Chapter 1--     “Let’s see, accounts payable: 155,241.”

The numbers in the bookkeeping are dancing in front of my eyes, while my thoughts can’t help but drift away to the brand-new present I have been given.  I sigh in exhilaration. The thrill I felt yesterday when I received my long-awaited delivery, hurriedly skidding it into my bedroom to unbox it, this extraordinary and yet scary device.  My hand unconsciously doodles curvy lines on my note block... 

“Miss Perry!!”

I startle up behind my desk as my pen drops on the floor. Shyly, my eyes scan up along his tall posture, dressed as always in an impeccable dark-blue suit that contours his broad shoulders in perfect match with the blue tie and immaculate white shirt.  I venture to raise my eyes further up, past his muscular neck, clean-shaven chin, and mouth, until I meet his glare of aggravation drilling right through me.

“Hadn’t we agreed on finishing the aggregated figures, no later than last week, Ms. Perry?”

My chest freezes in dismay. “Yes sir, I…”

“And didn’t we agree this week, given your obvious lack of efficiency, that we would allow this deadline to be rescheduled to Tuesday, which was yesterday if I’m not mistaken?” he continues, overriding my stuttering response. I shrink behind my desk, my fingers fidgeting, tears welling up.  I need this job; really couldn’t do without it financially. It has been only half a year since I started working again. Being 35 years of age, recently divorced, and simply trying to survive in life doesn't come easy to me.

He raises his bushy eyebrows at me. “No sir… I sort of…I mean, yes sir I think…”

“Ms. Perry, you are paid here to do what you are told, not what you think!  And please spare me your usual deplorable excuses. Now, I don’t have to remind you of the fact that we are a prestigious company, built up by three generations of hard work.”

My embarrassed eyes descend along his torso, while imagination strikes again, picturing what might be hidden behind the impeccable tie and shirt: smooth sun-tanned skin, wash-boarding the shapes of tight abdominals, waiting to be kissed, as I kneel down in surrender. Hearing his preach from a distance, I drift deeper away, fantasizing over my good-looking employer whom I tend to avoid during the daytime, but whom I meet in my dreams at night. Me, bent over my desk, skirt up, girly bottom bared, witnessed by my upset colleagues. Then, his cane, swishing down in merciless stripes, making me weep and shake desperately in the anguish of the fire. I cry for forgiveness, but the cane lashes on and on…

“Miss Perry, are you listening at all to what I am saying?!” blows his raised voice into my ear, snapping me back to planet earth.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry, sir,” I stutter.

“You want to do something about your concentration skills, Ms. Perry. You’re not on medicine, are you?”

“No sir, absolutely not sir.”

“So, the new deadline I have just given you will stand, is that clear? No more delay, not a single day!” 

What new deadline? What day?? Damn, I haven’t paid attention, too much dazed away in dreams…

“Have I made myself clear, Ms. Perry?!”

“Yes, sir, I promise to keep this deadline.”

Hell, what else can I say…

He leaves with angry steps and bangs the door behind him, leaving a deadly silent office, my colleagues looking at each other with meaningful eyes.

Chapter 2--     5 PM, the workday has ended. My little Toyota buzzes steadily as the autumn evening sun tickles over the Northern Motorway that curves through Auckland’s gentle hills.

It is only a twenty-minute drive. My thoughts are spinning around when I think of the brand-new spanking machine in my bedroom. It must have cost a small fortune. Luckily, my internet master has paid for this generous gift. Yesterday I tested it out using my pillow, which I had placed on the edge of my bed, just as my master had commanded. Ouch, poor pillow, that was a real thrashing. No kidding around any longer, with that machine guarding my room!

Coming home, I step right into my bedroom to have another look at my new asset. It stands sternly on its mount like a knight, its lance in the attack, ready to strike on command. My fingers can’t resist touching the glossy red cane, causing its free end to sway agilely in the air, the other end mounted firmly in the click bracket of the swivel unit.

I have never met my master in real life. I am not even allowed to see him, except for his profile picture, which only shows his masculine hand holding a cane. His wrist is decorated with a subtle but fascinating tattoo: two small triangles wrought into each other in an interesting and mysterious way…

I have googled it up feverishly, but never got any further than finding a vague gray home page. It just showed the etch of a castle with a whip and a short list of avatar names, each with a token, the triangulated symbol being one of them.  ‘Twilight Castle,’ it said on the header of the website. And then there was the sign-in for members only.

I sigh; so mysterious, so magical, this man…

He is very strict, too. I shiver, thinking back to last week’s punishment. He had to kneel on the floor with my knees on a broomstick, and hands on my head. The week before that, he made me put a piece of soap in my mouth after I had snapped him an impertinent response to one of his questions, little brat I sometimes am. I really do need a strict hand!

I sink away in fantasy again. Imagine one would meet him in life to be dominated by him in person, ever so strictly…

Once, he had a ponytail delivered to my address. As a punishment, he commanded me to stick it in my behind and crawl on all fours through the room in front of the cam. Oh my god, so humiliating… A puff escapes my mouth, my fingers fidgeting with a button on my blouse. Today, I’d better behave! I look again at the inexorable knight standing on guard at the side of my bed, keenly prepared for a first battle… I open my wardrobe and put on my densely woven jeans skirt. To give me some protection, just in case…

Nine o’clock. I stare nervously at the already-opened chat box on my laptop. I have placed it strategically on my dressing table in the bedroom, allowing the webcam a good view of the machine. Let’s hope he will not resort to his favorite topic: my weekly achievements.

Bleep! I shake up. A pop-up asks my permission to activate the webcam. It is Him!... My hand is trembling with excitement when I click OK. His profile photo pops up, the triangle-tattooed wrist somehow seeming more threatening than usual.  The LED at the top of my screen lights up;  an examining bright white dot! The pen pictogram shows that he is writing something. I wait in anxiety.

“I am pleased to see you have received the machine. Did you test it as I instructed you?” 

My trembling fingers race over the keyboard: “Yes, I did, Master.” 

“Let’s hope its very presence will serve as a motivator to keep you on track. Last week, I was very displeased learning from you how badly you have performed at work lately. Any improvement like you promised me? Is your boss content with you now?”

I grab my forehead with a suppressed cry.  Oh, my God, of all topics, not this one, not today!! My fingers freeze in the air in hesitation for a few seconds, then start pecking the keys anxiously: “I’m not quite sure, Sir.”

“Stop testing my nerves!!”

I take a deep breath: “Well, no, Master, to be honest, he was displeased about my work.”

“Deplorable!!! You will be punished! Now, turn the selector back to ‘force 1’ and set the counter to 12 times, miniskirt up, directly on your panties. I am very disturbed about this. You have been a bad girl!”

Damn, directly on my waver-thin panties! Luckily, the thing doesn’t hit too hard in position 1, as I have seen during the test.

“I am so sorry, Master. I will improve.”

“Don’t interrupt me! You just violated Rule 1: Don’t address me unless I command you to do so or ask you a question. You will turn the force selector to 2 and increase the counter to 16 times, panties down, on the bare bottom! Now, take your punishment!”

“Please, please, Master, not on the bare, I am really, super, super sorry, and I really, really will improve.”

“How dare you talk back to me, and that was another violation of Rule 1! I command you to set the counter to 20, force on position four!!!”

I flinch back from the keyboard as if it were a red-hot bar of iron. Me and my big mouth!  Damn, I must be the stupidest drongo in New Zealand. Why can’t I simply abide by his clear rules?! I rise from my chair and shiver my way to the blinking machine. There is no escape from obeying his command unconditionally. No way back. With trembling hands, I change the settings as instructed by my master. The turning switch feels tight and sounds warningly when I turn it click by click to four, its penultimate position… It is one of the positions I have tested on the poor pillow. My tummy feels queasy.

A sense of naked vulnerability engulfs me when I lift my skirt and slide my thin panties down. I bend myself over the edge of the bed, swapping places with the ‘punished’ test pillow. My round white booty sticks out freshly and disgracefully in front of my Master’s white-dotted glare. The soft bed edge feels comfortable under my hips. I hold the remote-control unit in my right hand. It’s Zero-hour! My thumb strokes over the start button. A few seconds of hesitation overpower me. This almost feels like having a gun in my hand, about to pull the trigger, the barrel pointed at my head … 

Oh my God, on the bare and with a cane; this is going to be so strict! My cramped thumb summons all courage and then pushes the button with desperate determination.

The machine gives a bleep, angrily clicks a few times, and then growls with a buzzing sound as if it were loading itself with rage.

What happens next exceeds any level of expectation:  Bzzz, THWACK!!!... My head yanks up at the first lash, my hair fluttering up wildly. Bzzz, THWACK!!! Oh God, this cane hits so hard, it seems to whack right through my rear side, the sting hot as fire.

The dutiful batman couldn’t care less about my agony and continues the execution unemotionally. I slide my quivering hips desperately up and down to spread the welts more fairly over the surface of my backside. Not that it brings me any relief: lower bottom, middle bottom, upper bottom; the unbearable sting licks my naughty bare behind ever so mercilessly under the strict survey of the webcam’s bright spot.

I howl loudly and clutch my hands onto the sheets, pulling them towards me into a crumpled heap as if scrambling up a ladder in an attempt to escape the blaze of hell. Ten whacks done. Still, ten to go! My lungs squeeze a moan through my throat. …Bzzz, THWACK! eleven… I won’t survive this!! Bzzz, THWACK! twelve… my behind is shouting in flames as the mechanical executioner carries on its strict regime, bringing me out of my mind.

Finally, it’s over.  I keep lying for a few seconds to pull myself together, trying to re-catch my breath in a convulsive attempt while a stinging silence seems to paint the bedroom. I am sobbing. Wet are my eyes, and equally wet I am between my legs. I rise in pain and return to my PC, my trembling hand palms softly exploring my two girly-round half-moons engulfed with welts. I bend over to watch the screen, not a single hair on my head thinking of sitting down. The cam’s LED is dark. My mysterious master has already left, leaving a last line for me: “Behave better next time; Have a good night!”

I admire my red-striped bottom in front of the mirror and touch it softly. Ouch, the result of an authentic old-fashioned spanking. In bed, my butt is tingling with a thousand little sparks. It is a restless night as my mind drifts away, fantasizing about how my boss at work takes me from behind, after a well-deserved caning. I am tossing and turning, throbbing between my legs, ever so wet. I touch myself until I explode into a wild shaking orgasm…

Chapter 3--     I am late. Everybody is already at work in the office. Rapid fingers are pecking dexterously over the keyboards.

Secretly, I slip the soft pillow out of my plastic bag and slide it onto the chair behind my desk in one smooth movement. I look around. Perfect! None of my colleagues has noticed it.

‘Bleep’, goes the phone on my desk. “Please come over to me, Ms. Perry, I want to have a word with you.” “Yes, immediately, sir.” Whoops, one minute later, and he would have noticed me being late. What could it be that he wants from me?...

I scurry toward his office, passing the gray doors of Purchasing and Logistics, then into the elevator that snails itself up to the fourth floor with a patient buzz. Only a short walk through the thickly carpeted passage, and I am there. The oak panel door is looking down at me with supremacy.

I knock and enter my employer’s sanctuary. He looks up from behind his desk. I respond to his penetrating eyes with a timid smile.

“Miss Perry, apart from your current assignment that actually should have been finished long ago, I have an additional mission for you. Please have a seat.”

I sit down on the stiff chair at the opposite side of his impressive desk, but hop up immediately in discomfort.

“Something wrong, Miss Perry?”

My bottom tickles evilly, and so does my heart of embarrassment.

“No sir, it’s just that I have an issue sitting down right now. I prefer to stand if you don’t mind.”

“Probably your bottom’s desperate attempt to awaken its owner. But I suggest you do sit down nevertheless, as I don’t want to look up all the time.”

I feel a little drop of sweat pearling on my forehead.

“It’s, well, …sort of medical, sir…”

“Ah, I see, that’s different then. Well, as you know, we attach high value to the health of our personnel in this company, so I’ll have the secretary make an appointment with our medical officer. Today is Thursday, his consulting day here.”

“No, this really won’t be necessary, sir.”

“I insist, Miss Perry! Our personnel’s health during working hours is our responsibility. We’ll discuss your new task tomorrow. Off you go!”

His hand makes a nonchalant swing towards the door as if winging away a fly, while his other hand grabs the phone.

Three people are sitting in the waiting room. One of the three produces an ugly cough, holding his handkerchief before his mouth. The other two, both gray and old, seem to be staring apathetically into nothing. The light-green wall is decorated with posters about a healthy lifestyle with fresh food and sufficient physical exercise. I hide an ironic smirk; no one can say I didn’t have ‘physical exercise’ yesterday. I avoid sitting down and opt for standing with my face to the window, quasi-studying the view of a dark yard that accommodates a couple of brooms and a rusty container. A sigh of despair escapes my mouth. What on earth am I doing here anyway? No way I’m going to show my caned bottom!

My predecessors go inside, each one in turn; first the cougher, then Apathetic 1, and finally Apathetic 2, so that I end up alone in the waiting room pacing up and down, wringing my hands. What the hell am I going to say? The door opens when Apathetic 2 appears to shuffle his way out.

“Next, please!”

The typical medical smell encounters me as I enter the room. The bald doctor looks at his list through his half-frame reading glasses. Ms. Jane Perry, correct?” His white coat is hanging loosely over his shoulders, exposing his blue striped shirt, two pens in the chest pocket, clipped to the seam. His upper lip shows a blonde mustache, while his face and thinly-haired hands are covered with freckles.

“Well, this is all a misunderstanding, you know. I just have a sore behind as I stumbled and… well, fell on the floor yesterday.”

“Well, let’s have a look at it then.” His hand makes a friendly gesture: “Please lower your panties and lie down on your belly,” he says, pushing on a button to lower the electric treatment table.

A flush sweeps to my face. “I’d rather not, doctor. I have, well… it’s sort of ….personal… Not necessary really.”

“Well, if you don’t wish to be examined, I’ll need your signature on this form for your chef. The form says that you discharge me from the responsibility of diagnosing you.”

Damn, what to do?  

“It’s embarrassing, you know… I only had… just have a look then, but it’s sort of complicated,” I groan, raising my skirt and lowering my panties with trembling hands while bending over the treatment bench.

Oh god, so embarrassing.…

“I see. Hmm... Ms. Perry, have you been abused at home? We do have to report domestic violence to the Social Office,” the doctor says with an examining tone in his voice.

Shame shrinks me down to the size of an ant.

“No, no! I live alone. It was… well…let’s say a friend… and it was …well, sort of with my permission.”

“Hmmm…I see. Very well then. I’m going to give you a sample bottle of aloe oil. Rub it in softly three times a day. You will be fine tomorrow.” 

I pull up my panties.

“And, hmmm, tell your friend to keep his passion somewhat under control,” he adds, looking at me over his reading glasses with an understanding, almost fatherly smile. I return him a polite “Thank you, doctor” and blush my way out as quickly as I can...

Chapter 4--     Some days come with hope when it comes to confidence within a boss-employee relationship.

“Ms. Perry, Mrs. Swift reported ill unfortunately, so next Tuesday, I shall be needing your presence for taking notes at an important meeting in Hamilton.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be traveling one day earlier for some other business. I already had Mrs. Steel arrange for a train ticket for you. You take the morning train to Hamilton and a taxi from there. Here are your instructions and ticket,” he says, handing me an envelope.

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir.”

I am already leaving through the door with a feeling of pride and self-confidence when I hear his piercing voice behind me:

“And, Miss Perry, attempt to arrive on time for once!”

I quickly close the door behind me with a blushed ‘yes sir’. Feeling relieved and pleased, I prance my way back to my workplace.

Chapter 5--     Beep, beep, beep! goes the alarm clock. My hand makes a spastic swing through the air, accidentally knocking over the lamp on the nightstand, to finally find the way to the clock’s shut-up button.

Shit, 5:45 in the morning, inhumanely early!

I switch on the painful light and hurry into the bathroom, squinting my swollen eyes as if beaten up by this night’s wild dreams...

I must rush now, my taxi to the station will be standing in front of my door at 6:20 AM sharp!

The roads are still clear as my cab sets off toward the station. My thoughts are filled with pride and importance. Imagine being sent by my boss on a business mission, really something!

The twilight sky is still dark blue, almost black, when I rush towards the entrance of the brightly illuminated station that is already crowded with morning travelers on their way to work. Quickly now, platform 2A; There is the way up. The escalator steadily hums as I ascend to the platform. A cool morning breeze encounters me with the typical railroad scent. I look up to check the electronic info board: ‘Hamilton, Wellington: departure 7:05 AM’, it says.

There comes the train, rumbling in smoothly, while the first light beams of dawn are just about to brighten up Auckland’s morning sky. The train comes to a stop with a short squeal.

It turns out to be a nice sunny day. I enjoy my train ride through the bright green hills along the Waikato River. I nibble tastefully on the breakfast sandwich that I have taken along from home in a plastic bag, while I am looking outside where the overfull motorway promises a busy workday ahead. Wow, my first real business trip! I take the little mirror out of my handbag and check my hair, correcting a blonde lock with my fingertips. Then, I practice my best business smile in the mirror: self-confident and sophisticated, I must look! 

Gosh, I had such a wild fantasy this night. I dreamed I met my master in real life. Imagine that! He was so handsome and strict. That tattoo on his wrist looked more threatening than ever with those two triangles curled into each other in a mysterious way. He got me bent sharply over the backrest of a chair, entirely naked, buttocks slightly spread as I felt the mild air of the room kissing me cheekily in between. First, I felt his masculine hand caressing my naked bottom. Then, the cane gently traveled over my back, bottom, and thighs, making me shiver with goose bumps and wet between my legs.

“Hundred on the bare bottom!”

Oh my god, how I squirmed, yelled, and begged as the cane lashed down at a steady pace. He had no mercy while I was dying under the devil's fury. Hundred stripes of fire on my naughty bare bottom, so well deserved. Then, he let me caress myself in my folded position. My bottom was sparking soar as I orgasmed in a throbbing euphoria. It was magic...

I bite my lower lip in anger. Damn, I am getting wet again. I really must get a grip and stop daydreaming once and for all. Look, there is Hamilton station already, I almost forgot to pay attention to step out!

 My half-high heels clack rhythmically when I rush over the footbridge, waving down to a white taxi at the parking place. The strawberry-nosed driver steps around his taxi and kindly opens the door for me. “564 Victoria Street,” I read aloud, consulting my instruction envelope in a hurry.

Victoria Street turns out to be a wide and bustling shopping avenue. Traffic is steadily flowing through the ample parallel lanes. I pay the driver, collect the receipt, and step out. I have to run! There it is, number 564. I take another look at my instruction letter and report at the reception desk.

“The Smith & Harley meeting is on the third floor; the elevator is in the corner right over there,” explains the receptionist with a polite smile. The clock on the wall shows 10:25. Quickly, I shouldn’t arrive late, not today! As the elevator seems to take its time to arrive, I opt for rushing up the stairs.

“Morning, Ms. Perry,” says my boss, welcoming me on the 3rd floor, standing calmly near the coffee machine with a beaker of coffee in his hand.

“Good morning, sir,” I huff out of breath.

 “We are expected in a moment. Right now, they are still discussing other business. Have a cup of coffee, Ms. Perry.”

Thank God, on time!

 “By the way, Mr. Craig is from Sidney. Please show him around a bit in town today after the meeting and invite him for lunch. I promised him, but I don’t have time, as I need to get back to our office.”

“Oh?” I utter in pleasant surprise.

“He is an important customer, so don’t spare any costs and give him a good time. Here, take the company Mastercard. Invite him to the Restaurant of the Hilton, and afterward, you can show him Hamilton Gardens or whatever he likes to visit. His flight back is tomorrow, so you can take your time spending the day with him today.”

My chest glows up with pride, impressed by the confidence my boss is granting me. I try to visualize the client in my head: probably a distinguished elderly gentleman with gray hair who will tell me inspiring stories about his fascinating life and achievements during lunch. I smirk silently in myself; Maybe he is a rich widower and likes me very much. Who knows, anything could come from it.

The door opens, and three men in business suits leave the meeting room, laughing, gesturing with their hands, and chattering busily with each other. Through the open door, I see leather chairs around a white table covered with documents and some used coffee cups.  The diagrams, projected by a beamer onto the wall, breathe an air of sophistication. I clench my hands, my heart filled with determination. I’ll do a fabulous job today as a minute taker. No doziness or romantic daydreaming anymore! Yep, this is my day; I’ll make my boss proud of me!

Suddenly, a man, about in his early thirties, tall and impeccably dressed, steps out of the door opening and shortly nods to us in a composed manner.

Goodness me, he is gorgeous!  Shiny dark hair, black nearly flat eyebrows positioned closely above the determined eyes, a well-trimmed three-day beard, and an athletic figure in a perfect suit jacket. God, this man would qualify, no doubt, for the main role in any modern James Bond movie. My eyes can’t resist looking down beyond his tight waist, accentuated by a silver-buckled belt that tops off his impeccable black pants. Gosh, imagine I will be spending the rest of the day with him after the meeting, and maybe even the evening!

My boss smiles politely. Both men’s hands reach out to each other and meet in a firm handshake.

“Good morning, Mr. Craig, how do you do? This is my assistant Miss Perry; Miss Perry, this is Mr. Craig, CEO of Smith & Harley Ltd. 

I have only registered my boss’s words as from a remote echo while my breath wavers in perplexity. My blood is pounding in my temples, my astonished eyes fixed on Mr. Craig’s right wrist.

It exposes a subtle tattoo consisting of two triangles, wrought into each other in an interesting way…