Something in the air…

It was a strange morning at the Academy. Fitting perhaps for late autumn when the harvest was in the air and the moon shone so brightly that folks were drawn to the out of doors at all hours, leaving them edgy but sleepy at the time during the day. No, “edgy” wasn’t quite the word but it was something. Wandering the halls one could feel it….

In the sophomore art class, Diana Fame sat in the back only half listening as Professor Halverson, using a slide presentation, discussed the flow and colors in Rubens’ “The Head of Medusa” that they were covering that week. Diana instead, sharp red pencil in hand, had moved forward in the text to the nudes and was carefully shading Rubens’s beautiful large bottoms with a pink glow-accenting some with darker red stripes bisecting the milky globes.

She watched Halverson with his laser pointer and wondered what he would do to her if he found her defacing his text? Maybe she should sign her name she thought lightly, feeling a rustle in her breast.

Upstairs, in the senior hallway, Mrs. Knapp continued her lectures on “Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.” Susanna Potts, from her seat near the windows was almost entirely disengaged, allowing her eyes to wander out to the fields and surrounding woods when Mrs. Knapp, to illustrate the good knight’s swordsmanship, said “He was so deft with his sword that he could spank a maiden with the flat of his blade and neither slice nor nick her naked bum.”

There were twitters around the room and Potts shot her eyes front hoping to see such a thing illustrated in the slides. Not to be though-only a cheeky aside from Mrs. Knapp. From her angle she could see Mrs. Knapp’s profile clearly and imagined what it would look like-the flat of a blade slapping across her doughy cheeks. The thought of such a swat on her own naked bottom flooded her with a warmth that she settled back to enjoy, eye dipping to half-mast.

Further down the hall…

A Shower Interrupted



There were three women in the showers when he entered. Constance, her back the to the wall letting the water rinse the shampoo from her hair saw him walk in, clothed in shiny sweatpants and a dark polo that clung to his arms and shoulders. He glanced at her with a dismissive nod and she, relieved, turned off the water, grabbed her towel from the hook at the end of the room and exited through the door he had just entered.

Cheryl, facing the wall noticed Constance leaving and turned to face him. She had just gotten into the shower and was barely wet, so when his glance passed over her, it was easy to grab her towel and skitter out leaving Jenni alone in the room.

Tall and rangy, Jenni faced the pulsing water allowing it to pummel her cheeks then the back of her neck as she lowered her head-hands against the wall. The water felt good and switching from hot to cold to hot again was taking the edge off of her hangover in a way that her workout hadn’t. Indeed, that hadn’t helped at all and she felt shitty out on the field. Whatever. She had carried these women most of the season-they could hold her up now and again. Behind her he watched the warm streams roll down her back and glisten across her taut slim bottom.

She turned to say something to the women who were no longer beside her, startled to find herself alone. Then not, as she turned round. It wasn’t exactly normal to see Dr. Cherry in the shower but not unheard of. True, when he was in here after a practice he usually carried a cane, a paddle or a strap that on some days seemed to be a permanent extension of his arm. She relaxed a tad, seeing he was empty handed.

His dark eyes revealed nothing and Jenni wasn’t shy about meeting his gaze head on. Something about the light in the room accented the gray beginning to dust his temples and offset the jet black hair which he wore swept back over his ears. He picked up her washrag and soap from the bench near the lockers.

“Come here Jenni,” he ordered. She pushed the water from her face and stepped out of the stream.

“Turn”, he said. “And bend.”

With a sigh, she turned around and bent over, placing her hands on her knees. Her wet hair stayed plastered to her head and she could see his feet stepping closer then feel his strong arm coiling around her waist. She scooched her legs slightly apart to accommodate the soapy washcloth that Dr. Cherry had slipped between them. She held her position as he gently stroked the inside of her thighs, then the whole of her bottom. She gasped slightly but didn’t move as his soapy finger passed carefully and thoroughly over and around the ridges of her tight ticklish anus. She shut her eyes and waited for it to be over but unhappily knew there was only one reason he was paying this much attention to her bottom. But still, he was empty handed, she thought.

“There”, he said stepping back. “Go rinse and dry off. Then go back to your bunk and prepare yourself.”

Not back to the bunk! She thought. Even on Holiday break there were enough women still on campus to make this an uncomfortably public spectacle. Back to the stream, she bent slightly, reached back to spread her cheeks and allowed the water to sluice between them, then turned off the shower.

Just before he slipped out the door, she spoke up. “Can I not just come to your office?”

“No I think we’ll do it this way. I’ll be up soon.”

The surprise and humiliation she had felt just a moment before were replaced by a nervous dread tinged with a little anger but, as usual, she wasn’t sure who to be angry with.


Merry Christmas


(The Holidays and my coping mechanisms have stolen me away. I offer this repost from last year)

On his knees, head cocked against the smoke from the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, he spun the tree slowly.

“How’s this?” he asked knowing it was not so good. It had looked OK in the lot.

“It’s fine”, she said. “Better than fine. Beautiful.”

“Just like this then?”


He tightened the screws in the stand and sat back on the floor. It had been two years since she’d been cancer-free and half that since he’d had a drink. They had decided that drought would end tonight though-an exact year from when it started. One year in the desert was enough.

He’d bought a bottle for the occasion. Later though. First he had to turn two boxes of too many parts into Tony’s spaceship and Tammy’s dollhouse.

“I can see the twins have been good this year”, he nodded at the toys. “What about you?”

“Me? I’ve been good…I’m always good…” she said with a slight-almost shy- smile. “Mostly…”

“Mostly? Do you have something you want to tell me?”

“Nothing specific…just general…things…”

“Well”, he drawled, “I might have to take care of that.”

She reached for his pack and tapped one out. She held it between her fingers but made no move for the lighter.

“It’s been awhile.”

“Like you said, you’ve been mostly good…”

A light blush dusted her cheekbones. “You won’t break me, you know.”

He ground the cigarette out in the ashtray beside him and exhaled into the silence.

“What will we drink to?” he asked.


“Yeah, like what will we toast?”

She looked up at the spruce that was really too big for their living room.

“How about ‘being’.”

“Being?” he asked.

“Yeah.” She said. “Being. Sometimes that’s enough.”

He followed her eyes to the bare tree top.

“Sometimes that’s plenty.”

Wishing you Peace and All Good Things…

Work Process

(Continued from Meanwhile…back at the office)

Billy Lake stepped tentatively into the room. He was definitely Charla’s hire: mid-twenties, a good decade younger than Charla-a little more than Rebecca. Right in the boss’ wheelhouse.  Rebecca didn’t go for the young men necessarily and she had the idea that Bill was what you wanted in a little brother if, for some perverse reason, you wanted an impossibly hot little brother. Still, she wouldn’t deny that he did get her heart pumping a bit. Either him, or what was going on in here.

He nodded at Rebecca then met Charla’s gaze but became instantly distracted by the wicked plastic tube on the desk beside her. If there was any doubt on the way up to Charla’s office what was going to happen here, that doubt was now gone. The small flutter that he felt in his chest coming across the threshold increased to a gentle pounding.

Letting her eyes wander, Rebecca smiled inwardly. It was like all the young MBA’s in the office took a page from the Franklin Best book of fashion. Long hair combed straight back-snug-fitting distressed jeans, sneakers without laces and gray-on-black crew neck that clung to his shoulders and chest tightly enough to showcase his smooth skin. Sitting, her eyes naturally settled on his hip and the look of his thigh where it swelled against the denim as he moved. She vibrated a tiny shiver realizing that in a few minutes she wouldn’t have to guess what he looked like under his clothes.

“So, William. You know why you’re here don’t you?”

“I do now, for sure.”

“We do expect from you a level of competence from you that we think you are capable of? Right? That you’ve shown us before that has to be maintained…And we were-I was-very disappointed in…”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” He dropped his head fetchingly and Charla reached out to lift it with finger under his chin.

“Not to worry. As you know”, she pushed away from the desk and took up the plastic rod, “we have a way to clean the slate, as it were.”

“Mrs. Best….” He looked over as Rebecca winced inside at the “Mrs.” which made her feel like his Social Studies teacher.

“You’re on Rebecca’s team now-so I definitely want her to be a part of this. Right? You’ll be reporting to her and she’ll be…responsible for you.” He simply nodded.  “Now, William. Over here please.” Charla indicated a spot beside her, in front of the desk.

Bill must have been expecting something different. A different pace to his visit perhaps, a “get-acquainted” session maybe. Certainly a more intimate setting-and no guest observers. His movements were hesitant and it took three halting steps rather than two strides to step up beside Charla.

“Very good”, she said. “Now drop your pants please.” He hesitated for an instant and cut his eyes over to Rebecca as if hoping for an intervention of some kind. Rebecca wondered if she looked flushed as a wave of heat rose to her face.

“Do not make me ask you again.”

He blushed ferociously as he undid his belt. “This is embarrassing…” he mumbled under his breath.

“I don’t doubt it”, Charla said, clicking the rod in the palm of her hand.  “Of course humiliating would probably be the better word.”

“Go ahead Bill”, Rebecca said trying to sound reassuring. “Nothing I haven’t seen”. But it had been a long time since she’d seen any male’s bottom but Franklin’s and that was definitely not for a spanking! She was trying to remember the last time as she watched his hands shaking a little as unsnapped his jeans. Rebecca’s breath quickened and she unconsciously crossed her legs. How reassured would the guy feel if he knew his new boss’ crotch was buzzing.

The jeans were of course, slim fit and had to be pushed down over his thighs. Again, he paused. From her spot off to the side Rebecca could see the slight curve of his backside pushing at his black briefs as well as his rosy, blushing cheeks. She strangely settled on his eyelids which seemed longish.

“Am I going to have to give you step by step instructions, young man?”

He hooked his thumbs in his briefs and pushed them down to meet his jeans at his knees. Of course his young bottom was taut with no hint of drop or sag. Not the protruding cheeks that Bethany offered but very ready. He wasn’t hairless but lightly furred-soft looking down up to the top of his legs and revealed in the bottom of his crease as he slowly bent forward putting his hands on the desk before him. Rebecca heard voices and realized that they had been talking all the while she was mesmerized.

Charla stood casually next to him.

“This is a new weapon for me. You’re the first to try it.”

“It looks monstrous.”

“You’ll be the judge…”

“Are you ready?” she asked patting the rod to his backside.

“Yes Ma’am”, he said using the title naturally as a child might say please and thank you. Charla, always one to appreciate deference, took it in stride.

The first stroke landed with a wicked sounding slash which surprised everyone in the room. William answered with a grunt and Rebecca felt herself almost lift off the chair with the impact. A red welt appeared almost immediately across the cheek that she could see. Charla regarded it clinically and stepped back half a pace and let fly again. This one landed hard on the left side, out of Rebecca’s sight. He gasped at the contact and Rebecca put her hand to her mouth as if to stifle her own groan.

Sitting to his right and slightly behind, Rebecca could focus on Billy’s profile. How he would squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth firmly, tightly baring his fangs but leaving his bottom soft and pliant. Somewhere he had gotten the memo about not tensing. Then, with the whipping impact, his eyes and mouth would fly open soundlessly as if providing a track to expel the pain from his bottom out through his top.

From her seat Rebecca became conscious of his manhood hanging slightly away from his leg. Not hanging limply, nor pushing deskward like a pole but pleasantly full and throbbing slightly. Another stroke made it jump and startled her. Not comfortable fixating on his cock, she moved silently to the couch directly behind.

Charla ignored her movements, instead running her fingers across the welts and star-like blisters that punctuated the end of each. Every stroke had left a clearly defined path across his milky bottom and Charla’s deep brown finger touching and prodding made for a startling contrast. Rebecca squeezed her legs together feeling the growing dampness.

“Didn’t break the skin”, she said. “Close on this one….but not.”

He had no response for her, comfortable with just catching his breath. Rebecca counted seven stripes. Charla rubbed her left hand up his back tenderly.

“Are you doing alright William?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Oh Christ Kid, thought Rebecca-stop that. It will only go to her head…

“Bill-I’m going to give you one more. But it’s going to be a good one, you understand?”

“Yes”, he said quietly and seemed to brace his legs. Charla lay the rod across him and tapped once, twice and Rebecca imagined his sweet face scrunched and waiting. But not for long as Charla shifted her weight and pulled back further than she had previously. As the stroke whistled home Rebecca closed her eyes and heard the loud THWACK! His grunt was louder and tinged with a whimper.

She opened her eyes and saw a perfect scarlet signature-darker than the others-right across the center of his bottom. Rebecca leaned backward and opened her legs slightly-then closed them. Then opened them again.

“There-That’s it….” said Charla stepping away. Her color was up and Rebecca knew her well enough to feel there was something more than a simple workplace chastisement going on here. “You can get up”, she said to the boy who hadn’t moved.

He stood and immediately reached back to massage his burning buttocks-kneading and stroking the pain away. Christ! thought Rebecca trying but failing to look away.

“How was it?”

“That hurt”, he said as if in wonder. “Really hurt.”

“No doubt, but how was it?”

He paused his rubbing for a moment. “Glorious”, he breathed.

The women laughed. “Get dressed”, Charla ordered.

Keeping his back to the room, Bill pulled his underwear then jeans up. By his wriggling and posturing, Rebecca knew that he wasn’t hanging limply anymore and was struggling to harness himself into his pants.

“You feel that last stroke, Bill?”

“Oh, I did”, he said over his shoulder.

“Like it?”

“Not the word I’d use.”

“Well the next time you intentionally fuck up a work product to get me to whip your ass I’m going to give you 50 just like that last one across your bare butt. In front of the whole team. Would you like that?”

“No I wouldn’t”, he answered.

“Either figure out a code or come and tell me-or better yet-Rebecca when you need your bottom attended to. And we’ll take care of it outside of work process. You got it? What do you think you’d like better-fifty with this across your ass or fifty smacks on your bare bum laying across Rebecca’s lap?”

He turned and caught Rebecca’s eye. “I’ll take the lap.” Rebecca kept her eyes on his face, not wanting to see the size of what was tied to his leg.

“Word to the wise. Go now…”

He wasted no time and with a nod, walked stiffly out the door all four eyes watching him go. Once he was gone, Charla turned back. “Now, since we are on the subject of intentional fuck-ups. What possessed you to come in late today?”

Rebecca noted nervously that Charla still held the rod. She spoke quickly, explaining that Franklin put her in the corner-even though he knew what might happen if she came in late. The butterflies in Rebecca’s stomach turned to ice as she realized she had said the exact wrong thing.

“You mean Franklin expects me to cane you?”

“Well…not expects. Not exactly…he figured…”

“You better get up here then…it’s not my place to disappoint Franklin. Life is too short.”

“Char, come on….”

“You come on.”

Charla’s smile was hard to read. Definitely superior and in control-but leavened with a heavy dose of mischief. And something else. If a smile could wink-maybe this one was. “Come on, I need another opinion on this anyway.” She tapped the desk. “We haven’t got all day.”

Rebecca stood beside her boss and absorbed the younger woman’s scent. Her feelings were complicated enough that her eyes stung a little. She was bending to place her hands on the desk when Charla stopped her.

“Uh-uh-uh…Those slacks do hug your bottom beautifully but I’m not really interested in stroking your pants.” She was close enough to feel Charla’s breath feathering the side of her neck.

“No…of course…” Rebecca said quietly as she, for the second time that morning, reluctantly pushed her pants down over her bottom. She was about to slip her thumbs into the waistband of her panties when Charla beat her to it. She stood upright and allowed her friend to roll her panties down almost gasping as her hands contacted her legs. She felt Charla’s lips brush her neck and turned-lips parted-to accept a soft but strong kiss.

“This isn’t personal Becks. Just business….”

Rebecca answered the twinkle in her eyes with a wry smile. “It’s always personal with you Charla. Especially business.”

Another quick peck on the mouth as she backed away.

“Bend over now. Give it up for us…”

Rebecca placed her hands on the desk surface and arched her back-offering her bottom openly. She didn’t tense-but held her breath.




I don’t fancy myself a Don Draper and it’s been awhile since I was in the advertising game, but some ads write themselves. Something like…

“Foster’s-After a hard day of spanking.”

“Before your spanking, try Foster’s.”

“First the spanking, then the beer.”

“Beer and Spanking-and a good day to you!”

Meanwhile…back at the office

(Continued from Roles Can Change…)

Rebecca slipped her red coupe into its’ spot in the front next to Charla’s Beemer and hustled through the glass doors. The downside of designated premium parking is that empty spots were impossible to miss. The desks on the executive level were empty as she knew they’d be with everyone in the daily 9 a.m. briefing that had been going on for twenty minutes. She rushed-but didn’t run-to the conference room door, grabbed the handle, took a deep breath, and pulled it open.

Twelve sets of eyes tuned to her and nodded, winked or otherwise acknowledged her presence. “Sorry, sorry…” she said moving to an empty seat in the back-which wouldn’t hide her as Charla was in front of the room at the white board.

“So nice of you to join us Rebecca!” she said heartily with a bright, wide smile as if she meant just that. All Rebecca could do was raise her hand in an apologetic wave and sit. Charla went back to the presentation and all eyes swiveled to the front. And Charla usually drew all the eyes with her wide smile, deep mahogany skin, straight hair pulled back in a pony-tail that cascaded down her sloping back. She wasn’t really that tall-about Rebecca’s height-but something in her presence made her feel towering.  Something besides the 3” heels she usually wore, that is.

Rebecca did not know any of the details of what transpired at that fetish ball north of London over a decade before. She was sure she could know if she wanted, but why? What she did know was that the bright, young Harvard MBA on holiday was thoroughly swept away by the rakish older guy with the quick mind, soft fingers and apparent bundles of ready cash.

They were stateside less than a month before they had gotten together to start planning and building the unassuming empire that had made them-and all close to them-if not rich, comfortable. OK, rich. Everyone who worked at Swansea & Middleton’s wide-ranging organizations shared not only talent and a hunger for success and money, but a….particularity (the preferred term around the offices). And this particular particularity varied widely by degree.

Just to be clear, there were people who’d been in the organization for years that had never tasted the cane, paddle or hard palm against bare cheek. They either worked hard to avoid it-the class Rebecca sat in-or had worked out “special arrangements” with the boss. What those arrangements might be and who might have them was never clear. But as the companies grew and more and more people were added, the spanking pool definitely increased and there was something for everyone.

Years before Rebecca had started at the bar but that was a little over the top for her. She liked to keep the number of people seeing her bare bottom to a manageable number. She had taken her licks on the real-estate side and the marketing agency, before being “graduated up” to the holding company.

But no matter where she had been, what she had worked through, here she was now. Sitting in the back of the room her belly roiling knowing that she had put herself right in the deep end of the pool. And everybody in the room knew it too which was doubly mortifying. A senior partner, probably older (skip the probably) than anyone in the table…her cheeks reddened. Damn Franklin! she thought.

Lost in her reverie, she didn’t even notice the meeting breaking up until partners were pushing away from the table and walking out the door. When she snapped to, Charla’s eyes were on her. “Can you join me in the office to go over some numbers you missed?” she asked in a way that really wasn’t a question.

“Sure”, Rebecca answered with a slight, rueful smile.

She followed Charla into her large widowed office right off the conference room. She moved to the supplicant’s position before the desk while her boss went to the closet.

“What is it with you this week?” Charla asked rummaging through things stacked out of sight.  “I covered for you and told everyone at the start that you had an early meeting at Real Estate but you simply cannot show up late for…without letting me know…a text an email…something.”

“I know, I’m sorry. This morning….”

She froze when she saw what Charla had picked out of the closet. It was a piece of nasty looking gray conduit-a hollow tube used to run wiring. I looked unspeakably licky in her boss’ hand.

“Jesus, Charla!” she gasped, almost backing away…

“Oh-this?” Charla whipped it through the air. “Something huh? Picked it up on the uptown job last week.” She whipped it again through the air smiling at the sound it made. Rebecca’s knees quivered slightly. “Don’t worry. Not for you…” said Charla and Rebecca breathed again.

“You know Bill Lake, right? The new kid in finance?”

Please, thought Rebecca. Everyone knew Billy, even those who didn’t work directly with him. Tall and blonde with a dancer’s build and eyes the color of a June sky. “Sure I know who he is…”

“I think I’m putting him on your team. I’ve given him too much responsibility right off the bat and he’s been sloppy. Or he’s incapable of what we need. I’ll leave you to sort that out.”

“But that…”Rebecca cut her eyes to the nasty piece of tubing.

“His work on the Nettles Proposal was bad. Incorrect-beyond sloppy. I caught it-and for the life of me, I don’t know why Catherine didn’t.” Charla was working herself up into a decent snit. “I’m putting her on your team too. Get her squared away.”

“Cathy? That will be….I’m not sure that will….” Rebecca stammered.


“We don’t work together on too much. She…doesn’t really care for me, I’ve heard.”

“Of course she doesn’t! Not my problem. Imagine how much less she’ll like you laying over your lap with her pants down. And that’s your first order of business-I’m going to take care of young Bill here”, she flicked the rod for emphasis, “Catherine’s your issue. “

Rebecca froze in thought for a moment. She always thought that Catherine Musto was on the list of players immune to the corporal inducements of Swansea & Middleton. Or had she been and wasn’t anymore? Rebecca wanted to ask Charla a few questions but her assistant, Moliere, interrupted over the intercom.

“Char? Bill Lake’s here.”

“Very good…” Charla said under her breath.

“I should go…” Rebecca moved toward the door. It was good to be scarce when Charla’s blood rose.

“You will sit right there”, her boss sternly nodded to a chair off to the side. “He’s on your team now-you need to be in on this.”

She pressed the button on the phone. “Send him in,” she said and, staging, placed the wicked gray rod in clear view beside her and leaned against the desk facing the door. She allowed the edge of the surface to dig into her buttocks as she crossed her arms and greeted the opening door with a grim smile. Rebecca’s stomach fluttered-she had seen that smile a few times herself.

(Continued in Work Process)



So I guess it’s kind of funny how
I loved you so way back when
You say I wouldn’t know you now
Well I didn’t even know you then

-Avett Brothers “I never knew you”

I buried an old lover last month.

Of course, I didn’t-not actually. We were years ago.

What I did was read her obit and have a few drinks.

That had been an odd year of comings and goings and she’d dug her elbows into the middle of it determined to claim something. As if there was anything to claim. As if there was anything to be had.

She pushed and I pushed back. Territory was won-lost-won again.


Such relief when she left.

Could never have calmed her.

A friend had seen her a couple of years ago in an upriver joint that we frequented back in the day.

I showed up there a few times at the end of long drives just to….

What exactly?

Could not imagine.

She died with her father’s name.

Evidently, I was not the only one who couldn’t calm her.

Her picture looked as it should have. I would have recognized her on the street or in that bar.

Now she’s gone,

But in a different way that she had been to me for years.

Now she’s a shallow reflection of me-no longer herself.

Actually closer now than ever-joining the chorus of the dead who follow me, laughing when I piss on my shoes or forget to zip my fly.

King Ragnar


My queen was otherwise engaged so I kicked around a few local watering holes unattached.

Usually content with silent rumination I was pulled gently into conversation with a comely drinker on the next stool. “Describe yourself to me” she said “As a TV character.” Easy enough; insomnia and on-demand keep me current.

“King Ragnar”, I said. “From Vikings.”

“Huh. Really? How so?” she asked, then quickly added “in five words or less.”

A deliberate, if not particularly effective, editor I chewed for a moment before saying, “Aging alpha. Going mad.”

The crooked half smile would have been enough. Would have sufficed. But then she reached over and tousled what’s left of my hair. Get it? She tousled my hair! What was I to do with that? By her hands, I figured her a decade my junior. At least. She wore no ring but neither did I. She patted my hand and slid off the stool for the ladies room. I was careful not to watch her walk away.

Leaving a twenty on the bar I followed my hard-on out the door where the chill December night hit me like a splash. Little Tommy led me down the street to a place where the drinks were cheaper and women were scarce.