Light-hearted and whistling, humming to herself, Beth dusted and straightened the elegant library. Dark stained woods, somewhat austere, the room was definitely a man's room. It was filled with the interests of her boss: books on hunting and fishing and history were among the many that lined the shelves.
As she dusted the books, she noticed some tucked away in the corner behind a large dictionary. She pulled one from the shelf and was surprised when she opened the pages to see drawings of a woman bound and gagged in a position where her sex was exposed and a large item was inserted in to her vagina. Her anus was also impaled with an unusual looking object. Turning the pages further, a hooded man was implementing torturous pain to the woman. Whips of all sorts were striking this woman's buttocks, clitoris, and back. Her mouth gagged, her only expression came from her wide eyes that showed fear and excitement.
As she looked upon these pages, Beth found her own fear and excitement grow. She noticed a tingling twitch in her most private area as she wondered what it would be like to be so helpless with such large phallic items inserted into her. A man in complete control of her every breath, inflicting pain upon her flesh.
Deep in thought, a rustle behind her startled her and she spun around to see her handsome boss standing before her. His hair was graying and his jaw was square. His eyes were a piercing blue. Trim and in his late forties, he stood straight and tall. A former soldier, he carried himself with much confidence. She had always been attracted to him, but knew her place and was intimidated by his intelligence and wealth. She was a pretty girl, but at work she tied her hair neatly back in a bun, wore no makeup and dressed in a conservative grey maid's uniform with full, proper undergarments. She felt mousy in this home and preferred not to be noticed.
Once she had run into him in town when she was out with her friends. Her long hair flowing, make-up accentuated her almond-shaped eyes and high cheek-bones. Her full cleavage wasexposed in her sexy dress. He did not recognize her, and only after she shyly said "hello" did he realize it was her. His response was short and polite, as one speaks to a stranger. But she caught him staring at her breasts and when he noticed that she saw his stare, he commented that she looked "quite well this evening" and walked quickly away.
Today he appeared quite angry. "What are you doing in my personal things?" he barked. His eyes flashed with anger, his lips pursed.
"Oh, Sir..." she stammered. "I was just dusting."
"Miss Smith," he said, "I must ask you again what you are doing."
"Well, this book just fell off of the shelf, and I was putting it away," she replied, now scared to death as she lied, hoping he would just let it go.
He circled around her, studying her, never taking his stern eyes off of her. She could feel the thoughts churning in his head as he contemplated what to do.
His voice calmed as he decided upon the approach to this problem. "Miss Smith, when you were a child and you lied to your father, what did he do?"
She stammered, "I don't know Sir...he...he spanked me, I suppose."
Continuing his questioning he asked, "So when he spanked you, how did he perform this task?"
"Well, what do you mean, Sir?"
"Did he, Miss Smith, remove your underclothing and expose your flesh? Did he use a paddle or a belt? In what position did he place you? Over his knee? Over a bench?"
She did not want to answer these questions. She was so embarrassed and humiliated, she just wanted to run. But instead she responded. "I don't know...he lightly slapped me with the belt as I walked by with all my clothing on," she lied. It must have been obvious as her boss became more agitated and frustrated with each word that came from her lips.
"Well Miss Smith, apparently this technique was ineffective as your lying continues to this day," he said, "I watched you for five minutes as you were looking at a personal book and, I must add, touching yourself as you did so!"
Horrified that he had seen her (and also unaware that she had been touching herself), she didn't know what else to do but to apologize. "Oh Sir, I'm sorry. I am just scared as I was so interested in your book. I've never seen anything like that in my life! I'm so embarrassed and ashamed. How can I redeem myself? Please forgive me Sir. I won't lie to you again." She was nearly in tears.
"Well you can start by telling me exactly what your father did when you were being disciplined."
Quietly she told him of the punishment she had received as a child. "First my father instructed me to meet him in the garage. He told me to go first. In the garage there was a table of sorts that he had built. He was a carpenter, and this table was designed for the purpose of punishment. It was built so that one side was higher than the other. So when I lay down upon it my bum was higher up than my head and shoulders. My legs dangled over the other edge, not touching the ground, so I needed a stool to climb upon it.
"Once in the garage, I was instructed to situate myself on the table in the proper position with my skirt lifted up and my underwear pulled down so that my bare bum was exposed. He would then come into the garage, his belt already removed, and he snapped the leather loudly as he approached. He would then make me confess my crimes. Depending on the seriousness of the infraction, he would determine the number of strikes I would receive. Maximum strikes was twenty, minimum was six. I was then instructed to count the strikes as they came and ask politely for the next one. If I cried or moved at all, I received all twenty no matter the infraction. If I was already to receive twenty, I instead got twenty-five."
"How old were you the last time you were punished in this manner?"
"I guess about twelve, and then he said I was getting too big for this type of punishment and that it would be up to my future husband to discipline me properly when I married. I once saw him follow my mother into the garage and heard the sounds of the belt on flesh, so I assumed she had gotten into trouble."
"So, the last time you were properly whipped you were 12-years-old?"
"Yes Sir."
"And have you missed it?"
She felt uncomfortable with the question. She had never thought that she enjoyed her spankings, but often when drifting off to sleep she would think about her father's whippings and wonder if her husband would do likewise if she ever married. She assumed her mother had endured many whippings as she always obeyed her father and seemed enamored by his strength and sternness. Thinking of her childhood during the night, her panties often became wet and a throbbing took over her flesh. She had never really analyzed these feelings, but now in this situation, she realized she had become greatly aroused at the pictures in the book, and now at the memories of her childhood punishments.
It was all so confusing. The thought of such a sadistic husband actually made her feel safe, protected and loved, as she had felt all those feelings toward her father. It made no sense to her, but it was how she felt nonetheless.
"Yes, I guess I have missed it," she finally replied.
"Well young lady, you have a choice to make now."
"What choice Sir?"
"I will fire you now and you will receive two weeks severance pay...or..."
"Or...?"
"Or, I will discipline you in a similar fashion as your father did. Which will it be?"
"Discipline," she said quietly.
With the decision made, he told her to wait a moment. He returned a short time later and instructed her to go into the pantry and assume the position that she had assumed as a child. "Exactly as you were positioned, your skirt hiked up, underwear down, and bottom exposed for your punishment."
Entering the pantry alone, the large wooden block was centered in the room in its usual place. Atop the block were pillows placed in such a manner that if she lay over them, her bottom would be elevated. She found a stool to climb up on and positioned herself, first pulling down her panties, then lifting her skirt. Her head and arms dangled precariously over the other end of the block. It was uncomfortable, but she found the excitement and anticipation of what was to happen overrode her discomfort. She heard her boss' heavy footsteps enter the room. Her bottom faced the door and she could not see him as he entered, although she felt him close behind her.
She wondered what he was thinking, wondered if he was truly angry or if he was as excited about the ritual as she was. She wished she could turn to see the look on is face. She felt his eyes examining her nakedness and wondered if he found her attractive. She wondered whether he would do just as her father had, or would it be different? Different maybe in a way that she imagined her father and mother had done it. Oh she couldn't think about that, it was so taboo. What were these fantasies that she'd been harboring since maturing? Pain? Whippings? Or Sex? It was a confusing combination of all of them that she just couldn't understand.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a hand softly fondling her exposed bottom. Touching every curve, exploring its voluptuous roundness. She felt this hand and the more it caressed her the more she desired its touch. Then the sound of his voice mingled with his touch, "I'm so glad you obeyed me. I didn't want to make this more difficult for you to endure."
She shuddered with excitement.
The crack of the whip was sudden, unexpected in that moment, fully hitting her bare bottom. She cried out. Another and another came and then they stopped as suddenly as they had started. The voice again and the hand caressing her now sore rear. He said, "You continue to be disobedient."
"What?" she cried, gasping for breath.
"If I remember correctly you are not to cry out, you are to count each strike, and you are to thank me and ask for another."
"Thank you Sir. May I please have another?" She complied.
CRACK!
"Another one Sir!"
CRACK!
"Oh yes, another one Sir!"
The twentieth spanking finally came. She held her tears inside, her cries she muffled in the pillows. Her bottom was red and sore. Her pussy soaked, wet with excitement. His hand found her pussy, his fingers explored the wetness. The moans that erupted from her mouth were as loud as the cries that she held within. His phallus found her pussy and he fucked her savagely. The confusion was bliss.
The saga continues....
Originally Published August 2005 - "Sultry, Sexy Summer"