Monday, 24 September 2012

Learning a lesson

“And where does that leave me?” I asked, afraid of the answer as my position with Cranbourne and Wheeler was now very likely over for good along with all my hopes for a future in publishing. 

“Where does that leave you?” He answered, his swarthy face as always sardonic and impenetrable. “I would say that leaves you across my knee with your knickers down.” 

I felt my face crimson with shock and embarrassment, and as that forbidden image flashed into my brain I was quite unable to speak as my breath seemed to have suddenly left my body.

In all my privileged twenty years no one had ever spoken to me like that, and the only thing stopping me from slapping his face and storming out was that my position was so vulnerable I had nowhere to turn. I was nine months into my training with a small but very prestigious publishing house in Bloomsbury and until the last twenty four hours I appeared to have had been doing staggeringly well and the future was be glowing. But suddenly I was in crisis. Being painfully honest with myself I had been getting all too pleased with myself and throwing my weight around with the junior staff and yesterday I had gone too far. I had berated the senior partner’s elderly and treasured secretary for incompetence relating to a mistake that it turned out was actually mine. There had been a complete furore and demands for my dismissal which had resulted in this meeting with Gordon Huxley one of the newer partners.

That it had to be him having this meeting with me made it even worse. He was dark and inscrutable and there was something of the night about him that I couldn’t put my finger on. Whenever I caught him looking at me in the office he seemed to be secretly laughing at me, and for a girl with an impressively academic career behind her and a very high opinion of her self it was very disturbing. And now here I was being threatened by him with a spanking. 

“But …” I managed to stutter, desperately trying to pull myself together. “Sorry, but you can’t talk to me…you can’t talk to anyone like that. It’s completely….” 

“It’s completely what you’ve been asking for.” He said cutting right across me. “You’ve been behaving like a spoilt brat for far too long and you’ve upset a lot of people. We are a significant name in the publishing world and if you’re dismissed from here the chances are you’ll never get a job in publishing again. I’m prepared to keep you on, but only if you’re punished for being such a little madam and only if as a result you learn some humility. A good spanking is exactly what you’ve needed for some time, but if you can’t cope with it then you can simply walk out of that door right now and that will be the end of it.” 

 What sort of choice was that? Being spanked over his knee like a naughty child or out in the wilderness form where I might never return.

With my brain in turmoil and my stomach churning I knew that there was only one answer and I would have to accept the shame of being punished. 

“Very well.” I finally muttered, my eyes downcast and my face a burning beacon.

 “Very well what?” He asked, clearly determined to wring every drop of humiliation from me.

 “Very well…….” God did I actually have to say the words. “Very well …I accept being punished.” 

“Being what?” He insisted, and I knew that that he was enjoying this and that I was helpless to do anything about it. “I accept being spanked.” 

“Good!” He said, and put his fingers under my chin to tip my face up so I was looking right in the eyes. “All in all a wise decision. And one small thing, for the foreseeable future I would like you to call me, Sir. Is that understood?” 

What could I say? He was clearly a sadist and I was at his mercy. “Yes, Sir!” 

“Right, I think you are at last learning your place. Now,” He took off his jacket and passed me a key that was sitting on the corner of his desk. “Go and lock that door and then bring me the key back.” 

With my heart in my mouth I did as I was told, closing and locking the outer door, then guessing he would want me to, also closing the green baize lined inner door that ensured that the room was completely sound proofed. I was now effectively his prisoner and for as long as he wanted he could do what he wanted with me.

 I walked back to him, conscious of his eyes burning into me and assessing the girl he was about to spank. That girl was, it had to be said, pretty gorgeous with a lithe figure and exceptional legs which today were shown off in a particularly short skirt, and no doubt the idea of having me pinned across his knee was hardly a torment for him.

Would he have been so keen to spank me if I was a middle aged frump? Who knows? It was me and it was going to happen any moment now. Not wasting any time he had already positioned a chair in front of his large desk and the full implication of what was about to happen was really hitting me but he did not give me time to think about it any further. Seating himself in the chair he took me by the wrist and made me stand beside him.

“Now you know what’s going to happen don’t you?” He said and I could tell he was relishing every second of this. “You’re going over my knee, I’m going to pull your knickers down and I’m going to spank you until I feel you’ve learned your lesson.” 

 “But….” Even at this crisis time some instinct for self preservation cut in “But is it really necessary, I mean……” But even as I was speaking he had pulled me across his knee and I knew that words were now a waste of time. “Look I’m really sorry, Sir…..” And he was shrugging me into place with my hands hooked up into the small of my back. With such a short skirt on I knew that my tiny panties would barely be covered and even as I thought this I could feel his hand roving over the fabric of my skirt and the flesh of my upper thighs. He wasn’t just punishing me, he was getting off on this, but to my complete amazement I realised that mixed with my horror of what was about to happen , some weird thrill of excitement was making itself known as well. I was so confused that it took a second to realise that he had already taken hold of the hem of my skirt and was pulling it all the way up,

and even though I had now totally accepted that was going to be spanked, some token resistance kicked in. He would now be seeing my miniscule panties and more than half of my bottom and whatever modesty I had left was affronted.

 “No…not with my skirt up Sir!” I was calling out. “That’s just not fair!” 

But even as I said it he was unambiguously exploring my half naked globes with his hand like someone testing fruit in the market before buying.

“The humiliation of being exposed is at least half of the punishment he said smoothly, carrying on his exploration without pause. “You need to understand exactly where you stand with me and the firm from now on. Nothing less than a proper old fashioned spanking will do, and that’s why,”  And to my horror I felt him take hold of the elasticated waistband of my panties. “That’s why to get the lesson across loud and clear you’re going to be spanked with your panties down.”

Dear God! How had all my career hopes ended up like this? Across a man’s knee, skirt up, knickers down and about to be spanked? It was all too much and resistance kicked in in a big way and I started to struggle for real, my body wriggling like a fish and my legs kicking up and down, but he was too strong for me and held me firmly in place. 

 “If you want to do it the hard way, it’s up to you!” And a stinging spank landed in the very centre of my bottom causing me to let out a scream, and then another and another followed it in sharp succession.

In all my twenty years no one had ever laid a hand on me and this burning pain was a complete new sensation and one that I was sot sure that I could cope with. It hit me that few generations back young girls could expect to be spanked like this two or three times a week, but how on earth did they manage?

As a burning rhythm of spanks started to build up I already knew that just one spanking was more than enough and that after this I would be the best behaved girl that ever lived to avoid the possibility of a repeat.

There was a moment’s pause and I was able to draw breath, but I knew that it was far from over and that he was just taking stock. Leaning down he pulled my panties down a few inches more and caressed my burning cheeks with his hand. “OK,” He said like an athlete who has jut completed a warm up. “Let’s get you spanked properly shall we?” 

But suddenly it was different. That brief pause had been enough, enough for me to realise that, yes I had been behaving like a spoilt brat and that I really did deserve to be punished this. I was now determined to accept it with as good a grace as I could, but more than that, as he caressed and explored, the strange intimacy of being across his knee with my bottom bared and my secret places on blatant display really hit me. It was as if I was a naughty child who was being spanked for her own good by a benevolent parent and a strange liquid pleasure started to seep through me. Wholly confused by this but determined not to loose it, when he started to paste my naked bottom again I tried not to struggle, tried to accept my fate and suddenly it was something else entirely.

Yes it burned and scourged my young girl’s flesh but now I embraced the pain and in doing so embraced the pleasure of it as well. The sounds emerging from my lips were different, a gutteral mix of cries and whimpers, sobs of arousal, and in tune with my heightened reaction he set in to really teach me a lesson that I wouldn’t forget. 

 (To be continued)

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