“Not at all, not at all. It is, after all, the least I can do to preserve the values that made this country what it is today.”
Subculture
Sarah Veitch
The story so far:
Lisa has travelled to Malta to live and work at Vitality, a prestigious health clinic – but when she arrives there she finds that the owner, Dr Michael Landers, physically disciplines his staff. Now she’s made a work-related error and is trying to talk her way out of being soundly spanked . . .
Michael blinked twice, then he smiled lazily down at her: “It’s no secret that I enjoy roasting a womanly bottom. All of the staff at Vitality have been recruited because of their sexual submissiveness.” He waved a hand in the direction of the window which led to the gardens and the stables. “I’ve got a veritable sub-culture here.”
“But I’m not like that.” Lisa made herself look at him square on, pushed her shoulders back in what she hoped was a dominant gesture.
“Oh, but you are. I knew that you had a subservient side the moment I met you,” Dr Landers said. He clapped his right hand softly down on his left palm three times with hellish slow precision. “I bet you used to fantasize about being spanked.”
Damn him again – was the bastard psychic, or did he use this line with every new member of staff? Lisa made a mental note to talk to Carmen, Marie-Rose and Jamilla about the doctor’s conversational gambits.
“I might have done,” she said cagily, trying to ignore the tingle which spread through her groin following his actions and words.
“Don’t tell me – and then you forced your desires back because you found out they weren’t politically correct,” Michael Landers continued. He was right again. Lisa fingered the legs of her olive green shorts. She wished that she was wearing more dignified clothes, that she could find the words and expressions to satisfactorily end this talk.
“I’m a businesswoman now. I believe in men and women being equal,” she said.
Michael Landers smiled. “So do I – equal but different.” He raised his eyes upwards, obviously searching for the right phrases and emphasis. “When a woman agrees to being punished by me, she momentarily hands me her power. She has to be powerful in the first place or she’d have nothing to give.”
“But Jamilla’s a servant, so . . .”
“A servant who knows what she wants and how to get it,” the doctor answered simply. He paused. “I assume you watched her being caned through a window or doorway. After the caning, did you stay?”
“I . . . yes.” Lisa felt caught out, at a loss again.
“Then you’ll know she cried out louder and longer in orgasm than she did when she submitted to her thrashing,” the English doctor said.
Lisa took a deep breath: “But that doesn’t . . . I mean, she still wriggled and begged for mercy when the rod fell over her bare bottom.”
The doctor nodded: “Of course she did. It hurt like hell, and she felt ashamed. I would, too, if I was bent over a desk and soundly beaten. Deep down, though, she’s submissive, so she got off on it none the less.”
He paused, then leaned forwards again. “Did it excite you to watch?”
“No, I thought it was an assault,” Lisa lied, remembering the traitorous rush of pleasure to her pubis.
“You’d react by calling the police if it really was an assault,” Dr Landers said. He smiled over at her. “You’re a woman of honour and of courage. You wouldn’t have stood by if you really believed that domestic violence was taking place.”
“So I’m honourable yet you still want to spank me?” Lisa muttered.
“Very hard indeed.”
Worse and worse. The twenty-eight-year-old cleared her suddenly tight, clogged throat: “And if I don’t agree?”
“Don’t agree to live by your employer’s rules whilst you have a live-in job?” The suited surgeon shook his head. “In that case I’ll put you on the next plane back to England and we’ll both forget that this sad little interlude ever took place.”
Lisa looked round the clean, wholesome and hope-bringing medical room. Then she walked over to the window and stared down at the Cactus Garden with its yellow rock backdrop.
“I don’t want to leave Malta,” she wailed. She stiffened as she heard the man approach, felt his strong arms on her shoulders.
“Then come over to the couch now and accept your first ever spanking,” he said.
How much could a palm-slap hurt? She’d just force her mind to think of other things. Feeling strangely nerveless and ashamed and just a tiny bit curious, Lisa allowed her employer to guide her towards the couch.
“Usually I stretch a naughty girl out so that her head hangs down on one side of my knees and her legs are stretched out on the other side,” he said conversationally. “Point is, when the legs are stretched out the thrashing hurts more.” He looked thoughtfully up at her as he settled himself on the couch, his feet firmly on the carpet, legs parted. “But as you’re new to being spanked I’ll let you put your belly across my lap and rest your weight along the couch.” She sensed him smile. “Now, isn’t that kind of me? And I’ll stop and start to let you get used to the heat.”
It was to be a long chastisement, then. Lisa stood where he’d guided her. Nibbled her lip as he patted his lap.
“I’ll add on an extra punishment if you don’t bend over my knee of your own volition,” he warned, smoothing his cream suit trousers.
The twenty-eight-year-old considered his words.
“Make me if you can,” she said. She braced her sandals firmly against the carpet. Put her hands behind her back. Dipped her head down like a see-nothing-so-fear-nothing ostrich. Squealed with surprise as he grabbed her around the waist and positioned her over his lap and across the examination couch in a virtually seamless move. But surprise wasn’t all that she felt – the sudden rush of blood to her clitoris unnerved her, and she pushed her slim thighs together and moaned.
“Oh, angel, is that pussy you’re so intent on keeping hidden feeling horny already?” Michael Landers murmured. “Will that clit that’s been wearing all these ‘Keep Off’ signs want to come?”
“Only with Reece. You said you wouldn’t touch me sexually unless I begged you to,” Lisa countered, raising her head from the surgical couch and twisting it back.
“And I’ll stand by my word,” Michael Landers said. His prick seemed to be standing to attention, none the less: she could feel the head of it pushing into her shorts-clad belly. Still, he couldn’t help his sexual cravings just as she couldn’t control hers. What they could control, Lisa reminded herself, was whether or not they gave in to them – and she couldn’t give in as she was engaged to Reece.
Waiting for the first spank was hellish. It seemed to take an age. Lisa closed her eyes and waited for the palm to fall. Waited. Waited. Waited.
“Why haven’t you started yet, you bastard?” she muttered eventually.
“Are you so keen to feel my palm?” The voice was low, amused. “You’re not going anywhere for a long time so I’m just contemplating your naughty bottom. Just examining the shape of an error-making arse.”
“Thought you’d have seen hundreds by now,” Lisa spat out into the medical couch, feeling a little of her spirit reassert itself.
“But each girl and her cheeks is substantially different,” her employer replied. He patted and palpated her shorts-hugged orbs. “Some backsides know that they’ve done wrong from the start. They jerk and writhe and . . . well, sometimes the owner tries to wriggle away before I raise the hardwood paddle. Whereas a bum like yours is a touch arrogant, almost relaxed.”
Lisa certainly didn’t feel relaxed. Her heartbeat was pounding its tattoo through her chest. Her braless breasts were rising and falling within the loose confines of her lemon polo-shirt and new lines of electricity were snaking their way towards her crotch.
Then Michael Landers raised his palm – and she forgot all about the crotch-based electricity. Felt her attention shift to her bum an
d analyze the new sensations that were happening there. Mm, that spank had been surprisingly light, surprisingly enjoyable. Maybe this chastisement wasn’t going to be so bad after all. Her new boss spanked on and on and on. His palm flattened first one small cheek then the other, bringing new stimulus to the hidden curves beneath the garments. He said nothing as he punished, his entire focus obviously on her clothed backside.
After an indefinite duration the heat began to build substantially in Lisa’s rear. “Ouch,” she muttered, and “That was a hard one!” and “Oh! Aaah!”
“Just another twenty, I think,” the doctor said. “Then we’ll let you stop and regain your composure.”
“What makes you think I’ve lost it?” Lisa muttered darkly, then yelped as he doled out six much harder spanks. He’d been holding back so far, then – she hated to envisage the force of a no-holds-barred spanking. She shut her eyes tightly and concentrated on keeping quiet as he pained her with the other fourteen smacks.
“Right, that’s the warm-up taken care of,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. She felt his palm tracing the full swell of her hips, “It renders the flesh more supple, prepares it for its proper punishment.”
“You mean there’s more?” Lisa managed, shocked to hear her own voice reduced to a breathless squeak. She searched for her businesslike tone, but found it sadly lacking. There was no hiding behind a power suit or a briefcase here.
“Of course there’s more. You can’t endanger life and not expect a serious reprimand,” her employer retorted. “A bum that’s put others at risk of fever deserves to experience a similar prolonged temperature itself.”
“But it already feels quite sore, sir.” Lisa forced out the hateful words to get herself off the hook. Her clitoris twitched slightly.
“Don’t forget that it’s your first spanking, so you’ve no yardstick to compare it with,” Dr Landers said.
He continued to lightly stroke her curves. Lisa felt the heaviness increase in her labial region. Forced the whimpers of pleasure back, damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of knowing he was turning her on.
“Right, I think you’ve recovered,” the thirty-something said a few moments later. “You’re ready to go on to Phase Two.”
“Phase Two?” Lisa repeated. It sounded like the title of a bad science fiction film.
“Mmm, Phase Two is where I pull down your shorts and spank you over your pants. You are wearing panties, I take it?”
“I am, but . . .” Stunned, Lisa tried to remember which pair of briefs she’d put on.
She put her palms back to her cheeks to hold the olive cotton in place. “You can’t take down my shorts, you bastard.”
“Believe me, my dear, I can.”
“But isn’t that getting . . . rather sexual?”
“As I said before, I won’t fuck you unless you plead for it,” Michael Landers said.
“You’ll wait for the rest of your life, then, mate,” Lisa replied, enraged at his conceit and arrogance. She mentally examined her plight some more. If she let him strip off her clothes he’d presumably get even more aroused and frustrated – and she’d let him stay that way.
“Go on, then,” she said, taking her hands away. “You can always wank in the toilets afterwards,” she added crudely.
“Oh, I think I can find someone to take care of me,” Michael Landers said.
He probably could. Lisa felt a new unexpected pull of disappointment in her chest. Somehow she hated the thought of him being pleasured by another woman. Sensed that if she chose to she could make him spasm into rapture and groan with more ecstasy than he’d previously felt.
But she was the one to groan softly with shame as he removed her olive green shorts. The awareness of him contemplating her bum in the cheek-hugging peach pants was just too degrading.
“Like what you see, do you?” she taunted.
“Well, I’ll certainly enjoy spanking it,” Michael Landers said.
Lisa buried her face in the surgical couch as best she could. She wished she could put a blanket over her head and just go to sleep till this humbling ordeal was over. Unfortunately her hot flesh was very much awake.
“I can feel the heat of your arse through your pants,” her new employer said conversationally.
“Congratulations. Means your faculties are in working order,” Lisa snapped.
“For a girl who’s bent over my knee,” the doctor continued, “you’re mighty uppity.”
“That’s medical speak, is it?” the twenty-eight-year-old taunted, determined that she wouldn’t be bested by this supercilious man.
“No, that’s straight talking, which is what a naughty bum deserves,” the former surgeon said.
Lisa flushed and held her breath as he fondled that self-same bum. The peach panties covered her cheeks from thigh to waist, would hopefully afford her poor bottom some protection. If nothing else it meant he couldn’t stare down at the folds of her labia or her dark dividing crack. He could doubtless see their shape, though, for the knickers were very close-fitting. And she could tell that the crotch was already damp.
The young woman trembled as he flexed his fingers. “Well, I can’t sit around chatting all day,” he continued. “There’s a girl here that needs a damned good thrashing. And my palm is itching to oblige.” He roasted his right hand against her waiting left cheek. Then he spanked the neighbouring orb. Found a slow assured rhythm. Chastened the lower and upper globes. He saved his hardest spanks for the centre of her cheeks where the flesh was as its fullest. Soon her small spheres started to glow. I can take it, Lisa told herself, pushing her belly forwards in a vain effort to avoid the worst of each slap, then arching her body up again before the next stinging encounter. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that I feel anything, she thought stubbornly.
Spank followed spank followed spank. “How many more?” she muttered at last.
“How many more do you deserve for endangering the public?” Michael asked softly.
If she said too few he’d accuse her of being self-lenient. The herbalist searched for a suitable figure. Finally she muttered: “Ten?”
“Ten it is.” Lisa relaxed across his knees, relieved that her chastisement was almost over. “Ten on the bare, my dear,” Michael said.
“But you’re a man and . . .” Lisa tried to scramble from his lap but his firm hands held her easily in situ.
“I could call in one of my female employees to correct you, if you’d prefer that?” he enquired.
“Christ, no, I . . .” She thought of how much more humiliating it would be for the likes of Carmen to chastise her. “All right, you bastard – just do it,” she said resignedly.
“And another six spanks for calling your employer a bastard,” Michael Landers said. He squeezed her flesh through the warmed cotton. “Trust me, my dear, you’re getting off lightly. I’d have used my belt on Marie-Rose or the others if they came out with insults like that.”
His belt was a matt black leather affair – Lisa’s eyes had been drawn to it earlier. She shivered and swallowed hard: “How do they bear . . .?”
“They can bear it because I’ve built them up gradually over many months.” There was an absolute certainty in his tone, “When they’ve been bad girls I slowly take them to their limits.” She heard the slight smile enter his voice. “Then I take them just a little bit beyond.”
“I think I’ve reached my limit,” Lisa muttered, trying to stave off the moment when he pulled down her panties.
“Don’t ever cry wolf, dear – it just earns you extra chastisement,” her tormentor said.
She felt his fingers on the waistband of her briefs. “Right, let’s see how this wicked bottom is getting on underneath the cotton.” She winced as her knickers were dragged down and left just below her naked thighs. Winced with shame as he laid both palms over her flesh as if taking her temperature. “Lift your head, Lisa,” Michael Landers said, “and look at the mirror on the ceiling. Enjoy the glow of your reca
lcitrant rump.”
He had to be joking. He couldn’t have . . . Lisa looked up and saw her own face and her back and her scarlet bottom reflected back at her from the ceiling-based looking-glass. “Pervert,” she muttered, glancing quickly away.
“The word would be voyeur – and isn’t everyone, these days?” He shrugged both his shoulders, keeping both hands on her back. “I actually installed this mirror for practical reasons. It reassures my patients by letting them see exactly what I’m doing to them during an intimate exam.”
“And the band played believe it if you like,” Lisa murmured. On one level she felt quite pleased with herself – she was still showing him that she wasn’t at all submissive. She wasn’t saying the shameful things which poor Jamilla had said. There again, Jamilla’s bum had trembled beneath the swishing force of the merciless cane, whereas she, Lisa, was just getting a hand spanking. Though some of those spanks had almost made her yelp.
“Such bold little globes,” Michael murmured. “I’ll have to double the number of spanks they receive because you’re so insolent. I’m usually more lenient with a new girl but still have to teach her manners and respect.”
“If this is you being lenient, I’d hate to see you on a bad day,” Lisa countered, wriggling shamefacedly over his lap.
As if in answer, Michael renewed the spanking with greater zeal. God, how she wished she had her panties back on to protect her! Lisa winced as the man toasted her unclothed flesh. Being spanked on the bare was a whole new experience – the cotton had obviously diffused the earlier slapping. Now his palm made stinging contact with a small section of helpless nude flesh. Dr Landers spanked her centre swell, he spanked to the sides, he spanked below so that his fingers strayed near her quivering thigh tops. His hand rose and fell till every centimetre of her hemispheres was writhingly aflame.
“Aaah!” At last Lisa put her hands back, fingers spread over the scalding contours. She twisted her head back, “I can’t take much more, honest, sir.”
“Then let’s stop for a little rest and a chat,” Michael said. Lisa kept her hands protectively over her curves, but she put her face down upon the couch again. “Do you agree that you were neglectful?” Michael asked.
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