I was the personnel officer for a medium-sized international company, operating in many parts of Asia. I joined the company in my mid-twenties following a divorce from a disastrous post-university marriage.
Self-denial did nothing for me for a year, and I admitted to myself that members of my sex interested me more than men. It was not long before I looked for a discrete means of satisfying these urges. The bar or ‘heavy’ lesbian scene did not appeal to me, and this didn’t help. On holiday in another Asian country with ‘liberated’ morals, I met another local girl with similar urges to my own. We met up when we could and we had a wonderful time together.
This girl had a job and took care of a sick mother. She found it quite difficult to get time away from her mother. Despite our friendship, it wasn’t satisfactory because of the limited time we could spend together.
As I looked carefully around the country in which I worked, I was sure things went on under the surface. However, I could not find the contacts or opportunities I was seeking. My job meant I had to avoid a compromising situation. It was frustrating for me, and I became a little despondent.
One day out of the blue, the supervisor of the main logistics yard contacted me about a serious problem he was having with a young female member of staff. At a meeting with him, he told me all about it.
Through photographic evidence, he had found that his secretary, aged twenty-four, was stealing from the petty cash. She was the office end of a consumable fiddle (a classic in his end of the business).
The girl did not know we were on to her. He showed me all the evidence. I asked him to leave the photographs with me, promising to get back to him about the matter shortly. After he left, I got the girl’s file out. She was in the most senior grade within the junior staff ranks. She was under consideration for the big promotion to senior staff grade because her staff reports had been excellent.
The photograph of her in the file showed an attractive local young lady with a demure expression on her pretty face. We would not go to the police about this sort of matter. We would sack the employee in question and refuse them a reference.
Looking through her file, I found her father had died suddenly when she was eighteen and there was a younger brother. This girl might well be the only breadwinner in the family and was possibly under a lot of financial pressure.
This might offer me the contact which I hoped for. Perhaps events offered me the small opportunity I was seeking if the girl was compliant and had similar urges to mine. It was well worth finding out. The risk was slight since the matter had not gone beyond me and the manager of the logistics yard, who simply wanted a solution.
In a very few days, there was a national holiday. The Company planned to celebrate this with a big party to which they welcomed all staff members. The girl in question would certainly attend. She was bright enough to know that a rising employee needed to attend the function. I could find her at the party, get her on one side and hopefully, we could have a discrete chat.
The day of the party arrived, and I did my best to look attractive, but not to upset the rather conservative local female community. At the party, I soon found Jasmine and got her on one side, saying it was time to talk about her future, doing so in a manner that excited rather than alarmed her.
The moment came, and I asked her if she would like to have supper with me in a few days. This would let me discuss things quietly rather than draw the attention of her colleagues by visiting my office. Jasmine accepted with alacrity.
I arranged with her to meet the following Friday evening at a big shop in town. We could go in my car to a discrete little restaurant a few miles out of town. I did not think they would recognise me out of the town area.
On Friday, we met in the store and went off to this little restaurant a few miles out of town. We had a good meal with a couple of drinks, and I kept the conversation away from work-related matters. I could sense Jasmine’s puzzlement.
Jasmine accepted straight away the invitation back to my flat for a last drink. Back in the flat, Jasmine sat there on the couch looking so desirable and innocent. I had to restrain myself in patience as she sat there sipping at a gin and tonic. It was time to show her the photographs! This gave her an awful shock, and she looked genuinely terrified because she knew I had all the grounds to sack her.
“Do you have to help to keep your mum and your little brother?” I asked gently. She nodded in confirmation as she miserably looked at her feet.
It was time for some reassurance and I said, “We can sort this out, don’t worry.”
I took a chance and eased her over to me. Putting my arms around her, I kissed her forehead. It was my responsibility and determination to temper any necessary justice with the maximum of mercy. She sat there mute, shaking a little, and I could see she was close to tears.
Eventually, she looked at me and said, “What will you do with me?”
“You’ve been very naughty,” I said, “But I realise that you have been under pressure at home. We can sort something out together. Please, just tell me what all this is about.”
Jasmine looked embarrassed but smiled at me. She picked up her drink and finished it.
Jasmine looked at me and said, “My Dad died six years ago in a road accident and my mum gets a small government pension. I’m the only one making any real money. I’m trying to keep things together for the family and to pay for my brother at school.”
Here is the confirmation of my opinion. I put my arms around her and said, “Jasmine, you are silly. Why you didn’t tell me? The Company can probably help a little?”
She looked sadly at me and slowly replied, “It’s so difficult to tell anyone. I know I have been a bad girl and a traditional punishment here is for a bad girl to be beaten on her bottom.”
That previously unknown factoid was a surprise to me, but I felt even worse when she finished.
Looking her in the eyes, I said, “But you could have written me a note explaining your problems and asked for a formal interview. That’s easy to arrange! Why didn’t you ask?”
She sniffed back tears and replied, “At my level, the company thinks my problems are mine alone. They won’t do anything to help. The older ladies warned me not to ask for help.”
She had half a point; the company just wanted huge amounts of work out of you and that was all. They didn’t care about your welfare. The company provided my rather grotty apartment. It was the minimum acceptable to personnel with the qualifications or experience required. Neither did the one-year leave period aid the company in terms of recruitment.
The apartment was cheaper than the chaos caused by the too-frequent resignation of personnel. I did far more for the Company than appeared in my job description, but isn’t that always the way?
Lifting Jasmine gently to her feet, I took her by the arm into the bedroom, sitting her on the bed. “Is this OK with you?” I inquired.
Jasmine said, “Yes, but please be gentle.”
I gave her another gin and tonic to cheer her up, as she looked so miserable.
“You just talked about beating,” I said. “Has that happened to you before?”
As I hugged her, she hung her head on my shoulder and I gently patted her back to comfort her. She turned and looked at me with big and slightly frightened eyes and nodded.
I asked, “When were you beaten, at school or home?”
“Both,” she replied. “If you had been bad at school, the headteacher caned you with six strokes, on your bare bottom and in private. It only happened once. It was awful. That school was very strict and almost all the girls got caned.”
I lifted Jasmine around to face me, smiled at her, and said, “Jasmine, you know I went to a public school in the UK where in the seventies they still caned the girls as a last resort.
“On the way back from a hockey match, someone smuggled a bottle of whisky onto the coach and a few of us got drunk. I was just eighteen. They gave six of the best with the cane on my bare bottom for that. It hurt terribly, and I cried a lot.”
“It was the only time, but I know what it is about. So tell me what happened to you at home, please.”
Jasmine paused, gave me another hug and went on, “At home, when I was very cheeky to my mum or very disobedient, my dad beat me on my bare bottom. Mum had to hold me down over a table because it hurt so much. He did it much harder than they did it at school, harder even than the headteacher did.
“The last time he caned me was about six months before he died. I was just eighteen. I think he may have hit me about ten or twelve times as I lost count.”
Jasmine paused and looked at me again before continuing. “As I got older, when my dad caned me, afterwards I got these funny feelings. At first, I couldn’t understand them, but I realised, as I got older, that it was ‘turning me on.’”.
“That last caning he gave me was the reason I lost my virginity. I knew a young lieutenant in the police and a few days after the caning, after confession in church, I walked back with him.”
“One thing led to another and I let him screw me at his parent’s house as they were out. I think he was very turned on by the marks on my bum because he came in about thirty seconds. He was very rough and ready and it hurt a lot. I was lucky not to get pregnant because he didn’t use a condom, so I was worried until I got my period.”
Jasmine grinned at me and squeezed my hand. I’m sure she knew by then what might happen between us, and she was mentally preparing herself.
Jasmine went on, “Maybe I’m not as simple and innocent as you might think. My Aunt works for the local airline and spent a few years in Europe. She’s only six years older than me and a bit like an elder sister to me.
“She brought some sex books back with her and she gave me a couple, including that ‘Joy of Sex’ book, which we can’t get here because of censorship. I love reading that book and I would like to try some things in it.”
Goodness, I thought she was not as pure and innocent as she looked! Manna from heaven! Caution returned. It would be so dumb to rush things and blow them.
I said, “Jasmine love, let’s just get to know each other a bit. I’m going to overlook your behaviour at work if you can show me you are truly repentant and I’m going to help you out, but no more fiddles at work. Do you understand?”
She hung her head and really could not look me in the eye. Her lips trembled and her hands went up to her face and for the first time, she cried as she sat on the bed, her head in her hands.
Back in the living room, I put a tape on and let her get over it. I got myself another drink and sat down. About fifteen minutes later, I heard light steps behind me and saw Jasmine standing there with a towel wrapped around her! She looked a picture!
She said affectionately, “Janet, is this better?”
I couldn’t contain myself and grabbed her, sweeping her off her feet. We were in each other’s arms for what seemed like ages. We found ourselves back in the bedroom and I got out of my clothes as quickly as I could.
“Let’s take a shower together,” I said.
Jasmine looked at me and said, “Can I take a pee first, please?”
“Sure,” I said. She made her way over to the little bathroom that opened off the bedroom and I followed her in. She looked a bit shocked and tried to shoo me away, but I wasn’t having any.
“No,” she said, “It’s too embarrassing.”
“Please,” I replied, “We are two girls together?”
She blushed and pouted a little, but removed her panties and sat on the loo. I gently eased her knees apart as she peed. She didn’t like it but she put up with it, which I thought was a good start! When she finished, I got a bit of toilet tissue and gave her a little wipe. She wasn’t pleased, but she put up with that too without resistance.
She flushed the loo. I directed her to sit on the bidet, which she did, but protested again, “Janet, this is very naughty. I’ve let no one see me do this before.”
