It had been a shock to her system, that first experience. She had reacted with fury and embarrassment at first.. Then with mounting excitement and finally almost unadulterated pleasure. But later at home, thinking of it, it had really only seemed like a deliciously naughty game. An unreal kind of fantasy...her first ever spanking, in the woods last summer at the company Christmas picnic.
Charlotte had not considered then that it might lead to her current position. Which was bent over the antique Mahogany desk in her boss's office, hands bound behind her at the elbow, nipple clamps pinching her delicate breast tissue to screaming point, feeling the red hot sting of his thin School Master's cane stripe her raised peach perfect arse again and again. Saying obediently after each stroke:
“That's 9 Sir. Thank you Sir...That's 10 Sir. Thank you Sir,”
in a breathless, tear filled voice...and readying herself, presenting her quivering, burning, cherry red young arse for another. And another...
Still less, even if she had
known, would Charlotte have believed that she would not only be enduring this treatment, but actively seeking it. Revelling in it. Yearning for more of the same.
David Fordham. Her handsome boss, Wealthy. Exciting. Super smart. She loved smart men. Shame there were so few of them around. The dumb ones were so much easier to manipulate of course...but you had to talk to them in the morning, you know? Anyway, smart men made better lovers. Far better. You need imagination to really fuck a woman they way she needed to be fucked, she thought.
Well...a man needed imagination to do a thorough job of fucking a woman like Charlotte, at any rate.
Charlotte breathed deeply as she raised her quivering arse one more time, legs spread wide, arching her back as far as her position over the desk would allow, so it stuck up and out; a tantalisingly eager target.
The Company Picnic had been going well. It was in a lovely Reserve, with wood fired bbq's and picnic tables. A real bushland setting, not just some suburban park. Charlotte had created quite a stir in her lime green lycra gym shorts and cut off cream lace top. Her natural tan was so much more appealing than that peculiar streaky orange hue so many women seemed to adopt, post Jersey Shore.
She had also distinguished herself during the Touch Football game, where she managed to score the only try of the match...and was carried off the field in victory on the shoulders of her admirers. A few of whom, oddly, seemed to have been on the opposing side. But even the vanquished seemed keen to be one of the lucky few who got to hoist her up and even fleetingly have their hands on that delicious rump, and rest their faces against those long smooth thighs as they carried her.
Steve from Accounts had captained her team and he approached her when she had been lowered, proffering a beer.
“You've earned this,”
he said, and she, thirsty and flushed with victory took the proffered Stella Artois and upended it, draining it in three gulps.
“Wow...you worked up a thirst!”
and he handed her another.
David had watched it all from the sidelines. He had been amazed by her athletic ability in that game. She put every man on the field to shame. She played an aggressive, fearless attacking game. He had been surprised to find himself feeling a twinge of something like possessiveness when the fumbling idiots had hoisted her up and started pawing at her. He walked away, not liking the feeling at all. He never allowed women to penetrate his emotional defence system far enough to let jealousy be a consideration. He was unused to the feeling and resolved to rid himself of it. By fucking her royally, until he was sated and she was out of his system.
Someone had brought a portable stereo and as they prepared to cook the bbq, music started booming out of the tinny plastic box. Some dreadful compilation of so called “Classic 80's Pop”.
Classic my arse, thought David. Boy George
Charlotte too was looking unimpressed, downing what David was sure was her fourth beer. He clicked his tongue. Oh dear...don't say she's a closet drunk? Pity. It'll ruin her looks. I'd best make sure I get in and have a quick go on her before she starts to wizen.
And he chuckled to himself.
Out of the corner of his eye he noted Charlotte suddenly prick up her ears and look off in the direction of the music . She grinned from ear to ear and ran over to the table, leaned forward, cranked it right up and began again the song that had caught her attention,
She began to dance to it. She made elegant snake like gestures with her slender arms and hands and began singing along with it in a surprisingly clear, sweet voice: Out on the wiley, windy moors
We'd roll and fall in green
You had a temper, like my jealousy
Too hot, too greedy
How could you leave me?
When I needed to possess you?
I hated you, I loved you too
And then, to the delight of men in the crowd at least, Charlotte began to really dance. She was amazingly good at that as well. And David, having been quite a Kate Bush fan for many years knew well that she was in fact doing, step for step, the dance that Kate did in the video. He would have sworn she was far too young to even know Kate Bush...but apparently she was quite a fan too.
She had appropriated a couple of paper table napkins to simulate the flowing sleeves of Kate's Gothic-hippie-tart gown. It had been red, David recalled. Thinking...“Charlotte would look very good in that red dress. And out of it ...”
As the chorus came on, she began to really ham it up, playing to the crowd, dancing amongst them, touching faces fleetingly as she sang and then pirouetting away to flirt outrageously with someone else. Men and women were equally brought under her spell. She included them both in her outrageous flirting. It was a naughty little joke she was having, on herself and
them. She had them all laughing with her.
David was amused and liked watching the sinuous movements of that lithe body, so he was among those who moved closer. She spun from the rather pudgy accounts clerk who had been lapping up her attentions and found herself almost in the big boss's arms. It may have pulled a less confident girl up in her tracks, but Charlotte didn't miss a beat. She stepped back enough to give herself room for pirouetting and began the famous Kate dance sequence again: Too long I roam in the night
I'm coming back to his side to put it right
I'm coming home to Wuthering, Wuthering,
Wuthering Heights Heathcliff. It's me, your Cathy. I've come ho-o-ome...
As the chorus came near again, Charlotte laid her slender hand against the side of his face, tilted her head to one side and as she grazed his cheek with her fingertips and gazed into his eyes she sang sweetly:
Oh let me have it, let me grab your soul away
You know it's me, Cathy I've come home Heathcliff, its me, Your Cathy I've come home
I'm so cold, let me in your window
And she spun away from him again, to pay her attentions in the dying moments of the song to George, her direct boss in HR who was shaking his head and laughing, not so much at her as at the expression of mixed offended dignity and natural gratification that Charlotte's public attentions had brought to David's face. **
He noted with growing irritation that she continued to drink. And that the more she drank the less inhibited she became. Not an unusual side effect of booze at all, but always distasteful to David. Drunken women were not high on the list of things he admired. But Christ, even three sheets to the wind she was an elegant and enchanting creature. She had them all in her thrall. Not just the men either. She was an engaging and disarming conversationalist. She looked people right in the eye. She made them feel that while they spoke to her nothing and no one else would impinge on her consciousness. She seemed interested in everything and everyone. Genuinely involved in the conversations she was having.
She was, despite her sometimes sharp tongue and acerbic wit, one of the most popular people in the office, Everyone from the tea lady to the Company accountant loved Charlotte. And she was socialising with them all. It seemed every time she approached an new table, they had a fresh drink waiting for her.
She finally wandered off to the play equipment area, having offered to teach George's 11 year old daughter Belle to do cartwheels . She had a rapt and almost exclusively male coterie of onlookers from all round the picnic grounds. When David could stand it no longer, he approached her from behind and startled her by saying gruffly:
“Charlotte. Come with me!”
Charlotte, still in the midst of righting herself from a rather good cartwheel, sat quite heavily on the ground and looked up at him, breathless and laughing. A sheen of light sweat on her face and cheeks flushed from mixed effort and booze. An impish grin suffused her face.
“Oh Belle, Mr Fordham wants me to teach him cartwheels as well. Will you help me tutor him?”
Belle giggled and looked up at David. He had known her from the day she was born and the child was amazed that this pretty lady had the courage to speak to him so. Even her mum and dad treated him with deference. Though he had always been kind and gently mannered with Belle herself, she had heard him yelling at her dad about work many times. She was if she told the truth just a little afraid of him. And she admired Charlotte beyond words for being so free and easy with him.
David smiled at Belle and said,
“Can you tell your dad that Charlotte and I have just gone to look for some more firewood? We've lots more to cook yet and we don't want to run out of fuel now do we?”
Even the child knew she had been dismissed . But Charlotte, buzzing and still playful said:
“But Mr Fordham, Sir. I left my axe in the office! Are you going to sack me now for dereliction of my chopping duties?”
and she burst out laughing, laying on her side on the ground and holding herself round the middle..
He reached down and raised her up, none too gently, by one hand.
“We'll stick to fallen branches then,”
he said brusquely and walked towards the tree line, away from the people gathered round the tables and bbq's, almost dragging her with him.
Charlotte was still giggling and guffawing at her own humour, really quite tipsy. Beer drinking in the sun was not something she was used to and she had to admit she felt quite festive from it. She said as much to David.
“Perhaps. But it can have side effects which are very bad for you.”
He looked at her. “And for your career,”
he couldn't resist adding. Let her know who the boss was...picnic or no.
But Charlotte didn't miss a beat.
“Oh no. I've disgraced m'self have I? Gettin' the old pink slips on Monday am I?” S
he giggled. “Well just as well I can boogie, eh? I'll have to get on as a pole dancer!”
They were in the wooded area now...quite far in actually as they both walked quickly.
“So...how much wood are we supposed to gather? Just an armful each, or are we planning on being snowed in?” S
he bent her head to examine the floor of the forest, which seemed to Charlotte remarkably stick free. “Bit light on kindling here David. You really ought to have sent the forest one of your FOR URGENT ACTION memos before we arrived. Mother Nature could have organised to drop a few tree limbs for you.”
“You impudent little strumpet!”
Charlotte's mood altered. Not to fear or nervousness, but to fury. He had called her a “strumpet” Apart from the fact that it sounded like a word her grandmother might use, she was mortally offended, not by the implication that her morals were looser than they need be, but by his arrogant assumption that the possession of wealth and power gave him the right to speak to her that way.
“You rude, misogynistic pig!”
she thundered back...shocking even herself. But it was out now. No taking it back. Best to plug on and later tell the Dole Office she went mad with rage and couldn't control herself than to suffer the humiliation of begging forgiveness and being unemployed anyway.
David, for his part was momentarily struck dumb. Try as he might he could not think of the last time a Junior employee had raised their voice to him. Let alone loosed off a decent insult. Or a Senior one for that matter. David was having trouble recalling when the last time anyone
had raised their voice to him except to shriek of her sexual satisfactions. David had a tendency to be the one in charge. Always. He was not challenged by many. Most people he dealt with were too afraid of his legendary ire to tempt seeing it directed at them. Or too keen to secure his business to dare risk offending him. Charlotte was not apparently, one of these people.
And despite his fury, by Christ he admired her for it.
Charlotte plowed on, aware that David's face was trying unsuccessfully to hide an amused smile, but interpreting it to mean that he was contemptuous of her anger. This made her far angrier still.
“How dare you pass judgment on my morals!”
“I did no such thing!”
“You called me a strumpet! Now that may be a word that Noah had on the Ark with him...but antiquated usage or not....I know when I've been called a slut!”
“Oh Charlotte don't be so stupid!”
His voice was impatient but he was really quite perturbed. He hadn't meant that. Not at all and he didn't want her to think he had.
“Oh I see...a dumb slut an' all!”
She was really worked up now. Drawn up to her full 5ft 10. Shoulders dawn back, face cold and still, lips tight. Her dark brown eyes actually were
Fuck she was gorgeous! Spitting wildfire at him, with grass and bark chips through her hair from the cartwheel landings that had not gone quite according to her (tipsy) plans. He'd known for two years he would have her one day. From the day she came to them fresh out of University, with a marketing degree and so keen you'd have cut yourself on her. She was taken on as a Cadet in the HR Dept. He didn't make a habit of screwing his staff, but he wasn't letting go of something this special, and he had always known it.
He knew right now that the time for having her was fast approaching. She was a beauty. With a rare spirit and a fine mind. David liked a challenge. And young Charlotte seemed a project well worth tackling.
“A strumpet, according to Dr Johnson, is a woman of lax manners. Untidy, unclean or drunken.”
He smiled a slow, lazy, superior smile. “I have no interest at all in your morals my dear...or any perceived lack of them for that matter.”
“Oh! Oh well then...that makes all the difference. How can I ever apologise for my erroneous interpretation. I'm not a stupid slut. I'm a filthy slut!...a filthy drunken slut!”
David casually turned away from her and began walking deeper into the forest. He looked back over his shoulder and drawled.
“Don't be petulant. Come. We've got to go deeper...that's where there's some good fallen wood. I saw it last weekend when I brought the dogs here.”
“If you think I'm wandering through this bloody forest with you collecting firewood like some Grimm's fairytale character you've got another think coming. Who the hell do you think you are?”
She strode towards him, face reddened from alcohol fuelled anger and stopped inches from him.
“You give me orders all week at work...understand? And I follow them. After work...all people are again equal OK? And I don't give a rat's whatsit if you paid for a few sausages and bags of marshmallows. This is most definitely after work.”
She paused for a moment, breathing hard and David appreciated very much how that made her firm high breasts heave under the lacy white tank top she wore, smudged with dirt and grass from her gymnastic efforts. She saw him looking at her breasts. Ogling them to tell the truth and, suffused with rage and righteous indignation she spat at him.
“And stop staring at my tits, you disgusting old perv!”
David laughed out loud at the infuriated girl.
“Disgusting middle aged perv, if you don't mind Charlotte; 43 is hardly geriatric.”
She raised an eyebrow and her face became impish. A catty gleam entered her eye and she said, “I was only reading in Vanity Fair last week that 43 is a very common age for men to begin suffer from erectile dysfunction. Is that your problem David? Does yours watch you tie your shoes ? Is voyeurism all that's left to you now?” 'Oh God.'
Her internal dialogue started up as soon as she heard the words leave her mouth. 'Charlotte will you please engage your brain before you put your mouth in gear?'
Yep. That had worked. He was angry again. Oopse. Too proud to back-pedal now, Charlotte stood her ground. Though truth be told she really was hoping that the ground right about now would open up and swallow her. Actually thinking, 'I hope they let me clean my own office out. I've got those photos from the nude beach in my hard drive and they'll be passed round the entire company before the gate's shut on me if anyone else gets to them first.'
When he did speak, it was very quietly. But menacing for all that.
“I think you need to calm yourself Charlotte,”
he said in a low, tight voice. “And take time to decide how best to apologise to your employer. Or you may find yourself rather unemployed.”
The hide of him! As if apologising was going to get her job back at this point. True enough what they said about staff socials wasn't it? Best to claim deathly illness or a dying granny if you wanted to keep both your job and your reputation intact.
“Oh sure. I grovel to you and you forgive me. All forgotten. As long as I pop back to my office first thing Monday morning, collect my things and bugger off, right?”
“Don't be childish Charlotte. I would never sack a competent employee for something they said while they were drunk and raving.”
He looked down at her sternly and said. “Well, not unless it happened again.”
He paused for effect and then added:
“And of course, as long as they apologise.”
Nude beach pics be damned she thought. Dignity was all, eh?
“Mr Fordham. I have something I wish to say to you.”
David smiled. That had been almost too easy.
“Do you indeed Charlotte. Well it may take you a while, so do you mind if I sit while I listen? “
And without waiting for her reply he strode over to a large, flat piece of sandstone and sat down, facing her.
“Now Charlotte, I am ready to hear your apology.”
Charlotte fumed. The arrogance of him. Born to bloody rule, or so he thought. She walked to where he sat and said.
“Yes I am terribly sorry Mr Fordham, but I really do need to tell you to poke your bloody job where the sun won't shine on it!” And she flashed out her hand, striking him, hard on the cheek, leaving a clear imprint of her hand reddening from cheekbone to jawline.
She froze. Instantly horrified by what she had done. Charlotte had quite literally, never struck another human being in her life. But she had been so angry....and the alcohol had loosened her inhibitions, fogged her judgement to the point where she had lashed out at him, in fury at his sneering dismissal of her, almost as if by instinct. She started to shake, overwhelmed by shame at what she had done as much as fear of retribution to come. She turned away in a vain attempt to hide from him that she had begun to cry. In fact she had two great tears slowly rolling down her cheeks.
David was ominously quiet for a moment. He raised his hand disbelievingly to his own tanned cheek, feeling the flesh under it burn and sting. The little bitch! She had meant it. She had delivered him no flirtatious girly slap. This was a blow, meant to convey disdain and contempt. And fury. She had struck him in anger. He grasped her by one arm and roughly pulled back around to face him.
“What gives you the right to strike me?”
“I -I'm so sorry David...Mr Fordham. I...All I can say in my own defense is that I am unaccustomed to drinking. And....”
she hung her head “And I know that that is no sort of defense at all. Not even a decent excuse.”
David's jaw worked even more furiously. The sight of her backing down did little to calm his fury at the temerity of this little glorified secretary,
striking him because he took the trouble to point out when she was behaving like a cheap little whore.
His grip on her arm became iron and he slowly drew her towards him until her face was almost touching his, despite her efforts to drag herself away, he grasped her other arm and she drew her head back.
“Ouch. You're hurting me!”
“Your slap was quite painful for me to endure too, Charlotte.”
“I've said I'm sorry.”
Suddenly she began to cry in earnest. “I am so sorry, Mr Fordham, really I am.”
She felt dizzy...from the booze, from the upset, from the shock at her own outrageous action. “Please. Please believe me. Tell me how I can make you believe I am sorry. I know I've lost my job, but I really do not want to lose the last shreds of your good opinion of me.”
Her big green eyes were swimming in tears, which she valiantly struggled to control.
Slowly David began to smile. It wasn't a friendly or reassuring smile. “Really Charlotte? You'd be willing to go out of your way to make amends to me?”
Charlotte sniffed, nervousness suffusing her suddenly, though as yet she could not pin down quite why. But all at once she felt a lot like a prey species.
“Yes I would. Of-of course I would.”
she managed to stammer out in what was almost a whisper.
“Because you know Charlotte if you demonstrate true remorse for this...unpleasant incident...”
he almost spat out the last two words, and his grip on her tightened still more, biting into the delicate flesh. “Well if you can show me you';re truly sorry. And have learned a lesson. Well. I don't see any reason why we can't put the entire thing behind us. Silly to talk about losing one's job over one stupid, drunken, thoughtless act, isn't it?”
Charlotte's senses became suddenly heightened. She could almost smell the danger now. She looked into his eyes and saw there a coldness which she had really only seen him display before when in the midst of an especially sticky business deal. When he had to best an opponent in order to maximise his own gains. He always looked, well...thirsty for the victory as much as the financial benefit it brought. He was looking at her like that now.
She was breathing hard. Panic rising in her chest. Unsure of what he was implying, but certain it terrifying her anyway.
“Wha-what can I do to make up for this though?”
She began twisting ineffectually in his iron grip. “I don't see how there is anything I could do to make you forget that I slapped you.”
Panicking now. Really looking for a way to get out of his grip, but trying to make it seem as if she were still engaging in a detached discussion about ...what was it he had called it?...her “penitence”.
“Well you slapped me Charlotte. As you've acknowledged, that is a very serious transgression. It is what the Constabulary refer to as 'Assault' I believe.”
“Will you have me charged?”
Oh god, her life flashed before her eyes. She would be ruined. Never travel overseas, never work anywhere decent again. A criminal record . For assault...on her boss
! “Of course not. As I said Charlotte. No need for any lasting repercussions. As long as you make amends. Here...Now.”
Charlotte took a long shaky breath. The tension between them was like a tightrope wire, and even through her fear and shame, Charlotte knew that most of that tension was sexual in origin. Carnal in fact. He wanted her...and if she was honest...she him.
“You mean...here? In the forest?”
she asked shyly, thinking, 'I've never had sex outdoors...well tents don't count as outdoors do they?'
and shivering a little, in anticipation as well as trepidation.
“Yes here. In the forest”
. He mimicked her cruelly. She was just coming to terms with the notion that he seemed to be suggesting that if she had sex with him on the forest floor, he would forget all about her slap, when he utterly astounded her by saying:
“I suspect from your attitude Charlotte that you've never been soundly spanked in your life. I think it's probably well overdue and we'd best start right away if we're to have any hope at all of salvaging your character. Don't you agree?”
Spanked!! Was the man mad?
Charlotte tried to find the words to say that to him, but all that came out was a kind of indignant, squeak, and she began to thrash about in his grip. To no avail of course. His massive hands fully encircled her upper arms. He seemed to hold her tighter with every lunge she made, till finally, exhausted, she became still again.
“You want to spank me?”
she asked, still feeling as if she were in a dream. Truth be told she'd had more than one dream about being spanked...but ...not like this... In a forest. With 50 other employees and their partners and children not 1,000 metres from them, shielded from view by a few straggly rows of eucalyptus trees!
“I think it's the only thing that would give me fair redress, don't you Charlotte? I mean I can hardly haul off and slap your face back.”
He released one of her arms and brought his huge hard hand down, not all that gently against her delicate cheekbone. “I would scar you for life.”
He waited what seemed like an eternity to Charlotte. Her mind whirled but try as she might she could not hold onto a single thought for more than a second. She felt faint and said so.
David responded by sitting himself down on the flat sandstone shelf, and pulling her down to sit on his lap. “ I won't wait all day for you to decide either,”
he said brusquely.
she squeaked out.
“Well I am not a brute Charlotte. I would not spank any woman without her express permission. You have admitted you've erred. Grievously. You said yourself. What you did was unconscionable. Unforgivable. But...”
He smiled like the Cheshire cat and ran his eyes over her with a hungry, assessing gaze. “But you're a lucky girl. I am a forgiving man. As long as I know you're truly sorry. And that you will take a lesson from this experience.”
His grip on her upper arms was now no more that a firm caress. He was looking into her eyes, with a light smile in his own. Assessing her, leaning his head back to let her see him rake his appreciative gaze over her. She shivered in his hold. But this time the shiver was, she knew far more one of excited anticipation than of fear.
She began to calm down and as she did so, to weigh up her options. She knew that what she had done was more than justification for sacking her. However, she also recognised now that he could have no intention of calling in the police. The very thought of David, a 6ft 4 inch tower of long lean muscle, with boxing and Tae Kwan Do trophies decorating his office and home, telling the police that this slender waif of a girl had either injured him, or made him fear that she could...well it was laughable that, wasn't it. She didn't even realise that a small amused smile at the prospect of that had started to lift the corners of her mouth till David's voice broke into her thoughts.
"Is something amusing you Charlotte?”
She pulled herself back to the here and now. "No. No not really I just thought...well...”
She tilted her head and began to smile wider. "I just thought Sir that...”
she broke off, suddenly overcome by a flooding rush of blood to her face - and other parts. She squirmed on his lap, but he held her a little closer, whispering into her ear now.
"You just thought you might quite like to be spanked by me?”
Charlotte was amazed that despite her deep embarrassment, she couldn't resist replying honestly. "Yes. Yes that's actually just what I was thinking.”
David laughed softly, an affectionate, appreciative kind of laugh. He kissed her neck lightly and growled at her, "I knew you were my kind of girl.”
Charlotte was beginning to get more and more excited by the prospect of being spanked. Here. Outdoors. And by David of all people. David whom, though Charlotte would have died before she admitted it to anyone, featured so heavily in her sexual fantasies...both waking and sleeping. David who, for the last three months of her recently broken off engagement, had been the man she imagined to be looming over her in bed, pumping away at her slender loins. David's back her magnificent legs were wrapped around. David's tongue invading her mouth, suckling at her breasts...and yes...David spanking her... David holding her arms pinned to the bed as he slammed into her....
But her annoying little moralist side was still chiming in, making her blush and stammer. That voice her mother would have approved of. The voice in fact that her mother had put inside her head. It said: 'How kinky...how sexist...how 1950's sitcom cliche.'
Oh Anglican Girls School morals be damned, thought Charlotte. She had been a bad girl...a very bad girl. And it was
magnanimous of David to offer her a way to keep both her career and her reputation in tact.
And anyway....she was coming to realise that she really wanted him to chastise her. She felt she had never really been disciplined properly in her life. Her charm and wit and beauty had always managed to allow her more leeway than she knew was good for her to be able to take. When Charlotte was being perfectly honest with herself as she was now, she knew she was a spoiled little princess, who had gone uncorrected far too long for her own or anyone else's good.
“Alright...OK...I mean...I don't know how...what to do but I...”
David had begun to smile broadly as he realised she was almost as excited about this as he.
"What do you want me to......where?”
she started to say again and then trailed off, embarrassed and stimulated by turns.
David leaned back, really grinning now.
“Oh over the knee Charlotte. As all bad girls are punished.”
She shivered slightly at the visions this conjured for her and then jumped as he said, “Fifty. Over the knee. On the bare.”
“On the bare what?”
She had found her voice now. She had fairly shouted that at him.
He roared with laughter at her chagrin and said sanguinely, “The bare arse Charlotte. But you know that. You have the Internet in your office...and you have been busy downloading some very interesting Lush stories from it too, I must say.”
She burned with shame and horror. He had been spying on her Net usage. Oh god...it was only two stories. Why the hell had she risked doing it at work? Her laptop had been in for repairs and she had been working late one night, drifted onto Lush without thinking while she ate her chicken salad roll, as if she had been at home....alone with her vibrator.....
She steeled herself. It could have been worse, she thought. Her boss could have been some fat balding ugly old guy...and the girls in the stories all seemed to enjoy spanking. Charlotte was certainly stimulated beyond all her experience as she began to seriously contemplate putting her fantasies into action here. Today. With this gorgeous man. She shivered and this time knew...it was all desire that was making her shake now. The fear was gone. She was keen as mustard to be honest, but knew from her dabbling in the literature that she was meant to at least appear nervous. So she turned it on a little:
Again the little girl whisper, but now tinged with more than a hint of eager temptress. “But...but I don't know...you'll have to tell me where you want...what you want me ...to...do.”
She fluttered her eyelashes in that way she knew drove men almost mad with wanting her.
“Well the first thing you need to do is not look me in the eye unless I tell you to.
She lowered her eyes immediately. Glad if anything of the personal space it afforded her. She could get control of her own needs far better when not looking into those amazing blue eyes of his. “Stand up,”
he ordered. She did so with alacrity. So much so she almost stumbled as she stood. He steadied her and unwittingly she looked up at him again. “Look down!”
Shocked at his tone, but knowing he would like it if she gave a good show of submission, she did so, quickly.
“Now. Take down your shorts and knickers.”
Charlotte felt a thrill go through her entire body at the words. She did as she was bidden. Did it so swiftly in fact that David chuckled, knowing now that he had been right. She was
his kind of girl .
Standing now before him, eyes lowered modestly. Playing the role she knew he wanted from her...of the penitent, nervous, naughty girl. In reality she was stimulated beyond her wildest dreams simply by standing there just a few feet from him, naked from the waist down. Knowing he must surely be marveling at the perfection of her lovely arse, her smooth long legs, her silky smooth waxed pubis now throbbing with desire. She clamped her legs together tightly as she felt the first tell tale droplets of her own sweet sex juices begin to flow from her.
She thought this might hurt a bit. She realised it would be embarrassing in a way. But she also knew that it was what she wanted..."Spanking”
even the antiquated nature of the words aroused her.
And she knew too that it was he and only he from whom she wanted to receive it..
And the next thing she knew he was sitting back on the rock. But this time she was draped over his knee, her outside arm pinned behind her back, her toes only just touching the rough forest floor and the fingers of her free arm splayed out on the ground in front of her to prevent herself from toppling over. Later she honestly could not recall the swift trip she had taken to land in this ignominious position.
David's groin was pressing against her pelvis. He laid his large strong hand on her bare arse, pressing firmly and rubbing it several times...round and round. Very slowly.
“As I said. We'll call this your apology...and say no more about any of it, shall we?”
she said, in a voice now husky with mounting sexual excitement. She was mortified to realise that her smooth sweet hairless quim was becoming disturbingly wet and tingly while David rubbed her arse. Surely he must see it. He must smell it...she knew she could. Its deep musky odour assailed her nostrils. He was right there, looking at it drip and glisten in the filtered forest light. She flushed with both shame and desire, quivering all over.
And then, to both her humiliation and her relief, he began to spank her. Hard. On both arse cheeks. By turns on each cheek...She had no idea how many. He had said 50, but it might have been twenty or 60. She lost count after the first few. It hurt. It was humiliating. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her and the confusion of these sensations and emotions overwhelmed her. Till by half way through, she was sobbing quietly, but lying still across his lap. Feeling the blows. Feeling the desire those blows stirred in her. Grinding her pelvis down into his between strokes, Tightening her pussy muscles as each one landed, thrilling at the sensations this was creating in her. Oh god it was so much better than reading about it.
Then he delivered a final almighty Thwack
across both burning arse cheeks.
She was sobbing now. Not really in pain, but in frustration that she was so completely aroused, and utterly determined that he would not see the full extent of it. Willing herself to push back the orgasm she could feel rising within her loins. He held her tightly on his lap and once more rubbed his hand over her arse.Very gently this time, and for much longer than he had before he began raining blows on her.
She could no longer feel even the remnants of her anger and ruffled dignity Charlotte was now dominated by a much different feeling. Something disturbingly pleasurable And obviously very very moist. She realised that the region between her legs was tingling and flooding still.. And while it tingled David's hand ran over her arse right near it again and again, because his crossed leg under her hips had raised her buns up, and his foot pushing out on her ankle had spread her legs rather wide.He must be looking right into my sex, she thought.
Shame and embarrassment engulfed her. He'd think she was such a whore! She struggled wildly to get off his lap. He held her seemingly without effort and said.
“You'll stay there till you're still Charlotte and then you may get up.”
She struggled again and he brought his hand down on her arse again..harder than any of the other blows he had delivered. Five or six more times. She jumped and yelped, but to her horror she also felt a large amount of her pussy juices flow out of her again. Much more than before. And the tingling intensified.. She froze, terrified that any leg kicking would display to him even more clearly the moisture which felt like it was about to literally begin dripping out of her throbbing cunt. Even worse, it would almost certainly stymie the efforts she was making to not come, right there, draped over his lap.
David continued to rub her arse for a few minutes. Saying nothing. Charlotte was utterly still except for a trembling borne of both physical stress from her precarious position, emotional stress from her frayed nerves...and that treacherous moisture which seemed to flow out of her in an unending stream.
She shivered erotically, feeling her nipples pucker and tingle as they brushed against the rough lace of her top. She was trying desperately to suppress it but David still felt the involuntary motion she made with her pelvis as she did so. Downward, into his groin. And his cock reacted to it immediately. She felt it jab up into her belly. He laughed and slipped on of his long strong fingers into her sopping wet slit, ran it lightly from her arse to her clit, gently teasing her inflamed flesh.“Something tells me you may have enjoyed that rather more than you'd thought you would my lovely.”
And at almost that precise moment he pulled her up and off his lap.
But he continued to hold her arm and in fact he grabbed the other one, linked her wrists together loosely behind her with one of his hands and continued to sensuously rub her arse, standing behind her, for a good few minutes more. She could no longer help herself. She pushed her arse back against the rough denim of his jeans, moaning aloud as she felt his hard huge cock press up against her stinging arse cheeks.
While she did this he brought his mouth close to her neck. Nuzzled it and bit. Ran his tongue up the side of it and for a half second flicked the tip of his hot tongue into her ear. He took his hand off her arse and dropped her wrists, brought both hands quickly round to the front of her. He roughly pushed up the lace top and with both hands invaded her flimsy little demi bra... tweaking her nipples sharply. He continued to pinch them, hard while she again ground her bare, burning arse cheeks into his massively swollen crotch . Then he growled into her ear:
“Women who drink to excess are shrill and unattractive. It leads them to impetuous actions....And it's bad for the skin.”
He licked her cheek as she trembled in his arms. “Don't do it again while you work for me.”
He abruptly let go of her breasts and pushed her, firmly but not roughly, laying one more firm, playful slap on her stinging arse as she stumbled forward.
“Now I will see you Monday won't I Charlotte? We have that Telephone Conference with the London Agency at 7.am. We really cannot get through it without you”
He stopped and looked casually down at the ground, where her shorts and lacy knickers lay crumpled and forgotten, adding “You might want to put those things back on before we return to the others. Or not...if you'd rather.”
Charlotte was in the shower a long time. She had stripped off her shorts and the sopping cotton lace knickers she had worn under them as soon as she was in her door. Checking her stinging behind in the full length mirror in the hallway, she was fascinated to see it rosy red all over. Even more interesting to note was that her vulva was still throbbing and becoming if anything more engorged as she gingerly prodded, squeezed and rubbed her tender arse cheeks. Fuck it.
Spanking had been a fantasy of hers for a long time. She had never dared tell anyone about it. But she had always imagined that one day she would have a lover who was both skilled and tender, whom she trusted and she could try it. Now she had been spanked... ouch
...soundly spanked...and yes it had been stimulating. But look by whom!
Oh god, she groaned...how would she ever face him again? Was he was some kind of weirdo who wanted to use her as his personal spank toy now? She shuddered again at that, but she had to admit to herself that the shudder was not mainly born of fear, but of excitement at the prospect of just such a thing happening. She absentmindedly began rubbing her nipples, remembering the delicious sting in them when he pinched and held them.
And then a final humiliating thought assailed her...oh shit! What if any of the others had seen...or heard?
She ran the hot water over her head, feeling it cascading down her breasts and over her firm, nicely rounded belly. When she turned round it stung a little on her arse at first, but then settled down to a soothing drumming on her inflamed glutes. She played the hand held shower head over her throbbing arse cheeks, her sopping, engorged vulva...directed it right onto her clit, sighing deeply.
She began to soap herself up, making slow circling motions with her sudsy hands on her breasts. She shuddered. God her nipples had been hard as rocks all afternoon. Standing at attention through the flimsy white top. She had tired of the leering eyes and walked around for the rest of the day with her arms folded, saying she had a headache.
She had walked
around, because every time she sat down she winced and squirmed. She had to plead cold on one of the hottest days of the year and wear David's leather jacket back to the picnic ground, as her upper arms were reddened with the marks of his strong fingers.
Several times she caught David giving sly glances at her rear, winking at her once, a small smile playing at his mouth. And when he did it, she flooded again. The minibus he had hired to prevent any drink driving incidents on the trip home had been a painfully humiliating ordeal She didn't know what part of her body had more blood rushing to it...her face, her arse, or her swollen,sopping cunt. She was terrified they all knew how horny she was. She could smell herself the whole way home.
Now, alone in her shower, reflecting on the day's extraordinary turn of events, she rolled her nipples and squeezed them with both hands. Remembering his rougher, harder hands on them. She leaned back against the wall, feeling the cold tiles bringing welcome relief to her tender nether regions, and slipped her left hand down to her clitoris. Smooth and hairless there. She had a large collection of teeny weeny bikinis in all different cuts. It was best just to take it all off than need to trim for every beach wardrobe change.
Her middle and index finger rolled over her clitoris, firmer with each pass. The hot water rained down over her breasts as she rolled the right nipple. Pinching and tweaking it. Squeezing the breast tissue. Her hips began to thrust against her hand. Her eyes fell upon the long slender deodorant can on the basin outside the glass door and she reached for it.
Sighing aloud as she inserted it...god she hadn't masturbated with a deodorant can since she was 16. At boarding school, fantasising about her Riding Coach in her narrow little dorm bed after each dressage class. She laughed. Still felt good though. She thrust it inside herself, over and over, imagining it was David in there. David's fingers. David's hard huge cock. She had felt it hit her in the belly as he spanked her...felt it against her arse afterwards. More than once it had jumped up at her. And that man was well hung, she was sure of it.
And as she rubbed her clit and played the can in and out...in an out...she moaned and whimpered out an orgasm which was stronger than any she had ever had under the clumsy, uninspired pawings of her so recently ex fiance.
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