The Norwegians-Part 2

(Continued from The Norwegians – Part 1)

“I feel like I’m going to puke…” Jessica said.

“Don’t do that”, Angie said raising her hand. “Would be a mess.” Almost before she brought it back down, Bobby had materialized with two more drinks. Jessica hadn’t realized that she’d swallowed hers during her reverie.

“…I can’t…not back in the office….Jesus. Everyone will know…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Easy for you to say! This is the worst. Hey! Couldn’t you….like intervene…Tell her….”

“Already done”, said Angie leaning back happy to have used the words she’d been rehearsing.

“What’s done?”

“Taken care of. Stephanie and I go way back.”

Angie’s belly fluttered again, this time in relief. “What did you tell her?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it?”

The flutterbies in Angie’s belly turned cold when she looked across the table. “Wait a minute. You knew from the beginning that I wasn’t getting spanked and you let me think….”

“I didn’t say you weren’t getting spanked.”

“B…”

“Stephanie isn’t spanking you. Look. She likes you. You’re good over there and she sees you as an integral part of the team. But, she does have to enforce a level of discipline. If she did it over at the clinic, you are correct, everyone would know about it. Your standing in the eyes of….the team could slip.”

Jessica didn’t really know she had standing.

“So”, Angie continued, “I offered her my place. She’s used it for that before-for discreet discipline or liaisons.  I’m right over in the Gardens.”

“Duquesne Gardens?”

“Yes, silly. Right over there.”

Duquesne Gardens, just now casting its late afternoon shadow over Dish, was the most expensive address in the most expensive part of town. What was this lovely sprite doing living in Duquesne Gardens?

“But…she’s not, right? She’s not coming over.”

“Almost! But she had an engagement tonight. And she didn’t want this thing to drag on so she agreed that I should spank you. For her.”

Jessica scoffed lightly. “Right.”

“No. Really. She gave me the hairbrush out of her desk drawer and all.” Angie had a relaxed little smile as if she had just suggested a movie to see after dinner. “It was my idea…like I said, Steph and I go way back.”

“You’ve done this sort of thing before?”

“No. Look, it was a suggestion, that’s all. You don’t have to go along. I can just let her know that you weren’t comfortable with it and you can work it out with her. Just an option. I’m the option girl.”

Jessica watched the pucker of Angie’s lips as she sipped at her drink. The feeling of having her naked on the exam table not six hours before came wafting back over her but from the bottom up. She felt again the tingle between her legs as she saw the tiny pink flower peeking out from below her bottom-the almost undeniable urge to touch…fondle…kiss.

“It’s a good option”, Jessica said quietly.

“Absolutely!”

“So…when do we do this?”

“As soon as you finish your drink!” Angie answered a light pink flush-which could have been from the drinks-coloring her cheeks. “You wouldn’t want to put this kind of thing off, would you?”

Jess, realizing she was squeezing her legs together, lifted her empty glass.

“Let’s go then.” Angie stood and gathered her notebook.

“Don’t you have to pay…”

“Bobby will take care of it. I have a tab…”

Do people still have tabs, Jessica wondered as she followed unsteadily out the door. Her legs wobbled a tad-just as easily attributable to the liquor as to the music coming from between her legs.

Though Duquesne Gardens towered over them the entrance was still two short blocks away. Jessica followed Angie as well as she could, dodging the salary men and worker bees clogging the sidewalks. She looked away a few times when she realized her eyes were focusing on Angie’s perfectly undulating bottom. When they reached oasis of the awning draped over twenty yards of sidewalk an arrestingly tall door woman with a scythe of dark hair slicing across her eyes from below her cap reached for the door.

“Hi Toni”, Angie chirped.

“Good evening Ms. Miller. And guest.”

“Jessica”, said Angie.

“Jessica” repeated the door woman, passing a striking green-eyed gaze over her. What was it with the eyes today? They held her for a moment then released her, dismissed, like a fish that was too small for the creel. Jess noticed the tail of a tattoo peeking up over the starched collar.

“Wow…” she said following Angie into one of several elevator doors.

“Yes”, she answered. “Double wow. Word to the wise. Try never to find yourself across her lap.”

Jessica opened her mouth to speak but couldn’t utter a squeak. She did squeeze her legs together while Angie hit a code on a keypad inside the elevator. “Going up.”

(To be continued…)

The Norwegians – Part 1

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(Continued from A Visit to the Clinic)

Jessica’s phone buzzed with a text. It was about 3:15. She had avoided Dr. Greene for the day which wasn’t hard to do. She was a competent hustler and other staff were happy to make use of her when they were busy.

She read the text “Meet me at Dish at 4.”

Jessica didn’t recognize the number.

“Who?” she texted back.

“Most spankable ass in the state,” came the reply.

Jessica actually let out a low moan. She had almost…..no, forget that. She hadn’t almost put it out of her mind. Her little escapade in the exam room this morning had roiled her brain all day.

“Don’t know if I can get free.” She texted back with a frowny face emoji that was definitely for effect only.

“You’re shift is over at 330”, came the quick reply. “Steph told me.”

Jessica sighed long and deep, rubbing her temple which should have been worn raw by now. Before she could type anything, came the message: “No choice. Dish 4.”

Finished with her patients at 3:15 and still trying to make herself scarce, Jessica ducked into the locker room. She normally came and went in her scrubs but something about meeting somebody-anybody-at Dish, a high-end Italian fusion restaurant, called for something more than work clothes.

She quickly stripped and jumped in the shower careful not to wet her hair. Within 20 minutes she was in a short, denim skirt, bright floral top and sandals. She checked out with Selena in front and was on the street heading a short four blocks uptown.

The small dark bar was full even at four with sleek young men and women wearing shades of blacks and blues. Grey was the new white with this crowd and she suddenly felt like a Christmas tree light with her red and yellow top. She scanned the side tables and there she was-golden hair glowing in the sun peeking through the front window. Jessica was half-way to the table when Angie looked up and flashed her bright smile zapping her with the eyes. Jesus! Jessica thought and almost stopped walking. But didn’t.

Angie was writing in a small hard backed notebook with a slender golden pen. How long had it been since she’d someone writing in a notebook and not picking at a phone? A bottle of imported mineral water stood open at the table with a small glass-no ice-floating a lemon wedge. “You made it.” she radiated.

“I had no choice did I?”

“Nope. None.” She closed the notebook and lay the pen atop it.

“What are you writing?”

“Documenting my day-if it’s not written down, it didn’t happen.”

“Oh, well about today…”

“Some things I don’t have to write down to remember…”

Jessica felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I know…but I feel I should apologize.”

“For what? Not to me. Don’t be silly-sit.” She nodded to the seat across from her. She seemed taller in her short skirt than she did in her scrubs. Her long coltish legs showed well as they slid beneath the table. She was no sooner seated when a waiter appeared at her elbow with a matching glass and lemon wedge.

“Thank you Bobby…” Angie said pleasantly. “Do you want a drink?”

“I can have what you’re having,” she said nodding at the water.

“Sure-that’s fine. But you should have a drink. A cocktail-something.” When Jessica hesitated, “I will if you will.” Angie watched her trying to decide. The girl seemed to be in a constant, if varying by degree, state of fluster. “Bombay and tonic”, said Angie prodding.

“OK. Same.” Said Jessica. “Sorry…I’m just…it’s early. I wasn’t sure…”

“It’s never the right time, sweetie. Always too late or too early. Best follow your own clock. And a drink would be good for you right now.”

“Why? What do you know?” Angie sipped lightly at her water without answering. “Am I getting fired? Dammit!-I knew it, all day I had a feeling…”

Angie poured water into the fresh glass and slid it across the table. Jessica took it.

“You’re not getting fired…”

“Do you know that? I…I love that job…and Dr. Greene. It was just a…..”

“Would you stop? You’re not getting fired.”

They went silent and leaned away as the waiter set the drinks down in front of them. “Thanks, Bobby”, said Angie as Jessica grabbed hers and swallowed thickly.

“Was Dr. Greene mad?”

“Hmmmmm….I’d say extremely pissed would be more accurate.”

“Ohhh…” She rubbed her temple again. “How am I not getting fired…?”

“Come on! You’re great at your job-they love you there. You just had a lapse. That’s all. I’m sure firing you never came up.” She paused and sipped at her drink. “Besides, there are other ways to punish naughty nurses.”

It took a beat or two before Jessica actually registered the words and her eyes widened. “What? What? No…”

Angie moved her head almost imperceptibly to the side-what passed for a shrug. Spankings around the clinic were few and far between. But they did happen. During her first week she had seen a nurse in the locker room with a bruised bottom. She had almost panicked and looked away quickly but could never settle in her mind how the sight had made her feel. Frightened maybe? Apprehensive? She did know that even now she could recall the dark spots and marks in perfect detail and she never saw that nurse again without imagining…

Then there was the time she almost died, when she barged into Dr. Greene’s office to find the receptionist-the one before Selena-laid out across the Doctor’s lap with her pants and panties bunched at her knees. Carrie, the receptionist, was a big redhead-not fat but substantial-with beautiful alabaster skin much of it on display just then. Dr. Greene looked up with flashing eyes and pointed a wicked hairbrush in her direction. “A knock might be nice, Nurse Raymond!”

“Yes, Ma’am-I’m sorry…”

“Doctor.” She hissed. “I’m not your home room teacher.”

“No Ma’am. DOCTOR, I mean….” She stopped speaking her eyes pulled to the glowing white hip where it bent across the doctor’s knee. Carrie’s hair hung as a thick curtain so she couldn’t see her face but noticed her fingers squeezing the carpet under her hands.

“Can I help you Nurse Raymond?”

“Uh…no Doctor. It…can wait. I’ll be back later…”

“Good idea…”

She slipped quickly back out into the hallway realizing that she’d been staring and that she’d been noticed staring. Standing outside the door she heard a muffled word or two then the unmistakable SWAT! of paddle on skin. She jumped then heard it again, then again, each time answered with a small grunt.

The hallway was oddly empty for the time of day and anyone passing by would hear what was happening. And, with the receptionist desk untended, it would be no great stretch to understand who it was happening to.

After the fifth or sixth smack from inside, Jessica heard a whimper then a soft coughing cry. She suddenly felt conspicuous outside the door and couldn’t decide if she were spying or standing sentry. Either way, she didn’t want to be noticed out here and skedaddled down the hall to hide in the locker room for fifteen minutes.

That’s where her mind was when Angie reached across the table and touched her hand. “Are you still here?” she asked.

Continued here The Norwegians-Part 2

The Negotiation

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She was happy for the interruption if it was going to be one. He let the phone ring four times-three more than was usual-before he picked it up. “Yes?” he snapped into the receiver still glaring at her. “Oh-fine. Yes, thank you Midge. Put him through.”

He sat back to take the call and she signaled that she would step outside while he was on the phone.

He covered the receiver with his meaty hand. “You stay right where you are Mrs. Williams. I’m far from finished with you. “

His tone and glare froze her and she creaked slowly back into the chair. God, she was back in the principal’s office in Junior High.

She hadn’t really poached his clients. Hell, as the company president they were all his clients….She tried to remember if she had told him she was taking the meeting. Did she tell Midge? She didn’t put it past that little snot to not tell him if she had. Maybe that was it! She had told Midge but she hadn’t passed the information along! She worked hard on this construct for a moment trying to convince herself it was the truth.

She wasn’t listening to his call and couldn’t tell you what it was about but heard it winding up with a smooth and genial “I’ll have my girl call and set it up…” As soon as he hung up his face changed and any geniality was gone.

“John, I…”

“Enough”, he said. “I’m going to beat your ass, Mrs. Williams.”

“Oh no you’re not….” She hated that phrase, it sounded like two boys getting ready to fight at a bar.

As he pushed away from his desk she couldn’t help noticing the size of his hands.

“John”, she said quickly-trying to tamp down the flurry of panic she began to feel…”I told Midge that I would be…”

He froze her with a stare. “Are you going to slip another lie into your already overflowing folder?”

“I…”

He had come out from behind the desk and was taking a seat on the sofa. “I can bring Midge in right now, and we can ask her. You want me to do that?”

“No John…but I…”

He sat. “Get over here.”

She stood automatically if unsteadily and moved toward him, her wheels still spinning. “When they came in John, the Baxters, they hadn’t mentioned that you had been…”

“Yes, yes…you’ve said.”

He reached up and took her wrist and again she noticed the size of his hands. Paws really. And he was wearing his ring! Would she feel that?

“Wait…” she said breathlessly as she settled over his lap. “Now, John….it’s not too late.” She felt her skirt lift.

“I believe it is, Mrs. Williams.”

“No, John…we can still…”

“Can still what Mrs. Williams”

“Be reasonable….”

“I think I’ve been reasonable”, he said as she felt her panties being yanked down.

“Hey!…We still could talk this out before this goes too far…”

“Mrs. Williams, your skirt is up, your panties are down and you are over my lap. What would you consider ‘too far’?”

“You haven’t spanked me yet John. We can still…”

He cut off her negotiation with a firm smack to her fulsome right cheek. She uttered a surprised “ahhh…” rather than the pained “ouch!” that he would have expected from a younger girl whose whole bottom might fit under his meaty hand like a turtle under its shell. Mrs. Williams’ mature backside was thick enough to absorb what he was going to give her one firm cheek at a time with a little give and very satisfying jiggle.

“You were saying Mrs. Williams?”

“No. I get it. I understand John. It was your meeting and there is no way I should have…OUCH!”

She was surprised by the second swat which landed exactly where the first one had. And it stung.

“John! I’m sorry. Truly. That really hurt John. Can’t we discuss…”

“Is Eric in town this week?” he asked about her husband.

“Ah…” she was nonplussed having to answer a questions about her husband while in this situation. “No”, she blurted. “He’s in New York all week. Why?”

“I was wondering how you’d explain your red bottom to him. But then, being married to you I’m sure he’d understand.”

She absorbed his comment in silence as he rolled up his sleeve.

“You are not going to stop are you…?”

“Yes. I plan to pause after forty smacks.”

“Forty!” she had assumed ten or twelve spanks and they would be done.

“I’m sorry. Did I say forty? I meant fifty.”

“John! I…”

“I’d be careful about saying anything else if I were you.”

“This is going to happen, isn’t it” she asked quietly.

“This IS happening…and don’t clench” he said, rudely poking her cheek.

She quickly bit her bottom lip tasting her lipstick. In the pregnant silence before the next spank she felt-for the first time-John’s legs beneath her and the strength of his left hand pushing down on her back. Her mind cleared at the reality.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay quiet”, she said softly.

“Midge!” he yelled at the closed door.

“Yes?” came the reply from the outer office-too quickly and too clearly to have come from her desk. The little bitch was listening at the door!

“Oh John, please don’t bring…”

“Go to lunch. Now!”

“Yessir!”

She heard feet shuffling across the plush carpeting immediately and the outer door slam. Of course Midge would respond quickly. Lying face down over her boss’ lap she thought of the girl’s small round bottom.

“There.” he said. “We’re alone now.”

“John if you would…”

A spank harder than the others stole her breath. “Now it’s sixty”, he said. “Anything else?”

Her eyes burned in frustration. She so wanted to tell him…

“Nothing?”

“No John.”

“Very well…”

Eyeing the pink smudges on Mrs. William’s otherwise perfectly ivory backside he raised his hand and let fly watching the flowing impact with satisfaction. She grunted and whispered a sad, little ouch, her eyes filling with the knowledge that he was right and she was wrong and she might have to admit it. Eventually. But right now, she was where she belonged.

After slamming the outer door, Midge tiptoed back to her post and stuck her ear against her boss’s door.

The New Girl

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It wasn’t a race but Steve got there first by just long enough to order a martini. Not actually order it; the bartender saw him and started the process. Bombay Blue Sapphire-tiniest touch of white Lillet and olives. Cold, dry, clean and neat. He was halfway through when Dan slid onto the stool next to him. “Hey” Steve nodded, looking away from his gin for only the tiniest instant as if afraid it would run off.

Danny ordered double Dewar’s, rocks. Or rock is more like it. The only bitch he had with this bar was its hipster ice-a single huge block almost the size of the glass. He didn’t used to drink doubles but had to start here just to float the fucking ice.

As protocol dictated, Steve had nothing to say until his friend had caught up with him drink-wise. He sat in silence reading the condensation on his glass while Danny sucked Scotch around the frozen abomination. Finally he was close enough to half way through that Steve felt comfortable in opening today’s line of discussion.

“I really can’t stand that new girl in HR”, he said.

“Karen?” asked Danny swallowing off the rest of his drink. He knew his only hope of conquering the ice berg was to keep pouring whiskey on it. He raised the empty glass and Kyle-the ever attentive-grabbed it from him. “Same thing-same ice”, he told him.

“She’s not so bad…” he continued to Steve.

“Maybe not for you. But wait until you’re late with an expense report.”

“I was late last week.”

“You were….Wait! You cheap bastard, you’re never late with expenses.”

“I am now….every Friday.”

Steve drained his glass and set it on the bar. “You dog”…

“Ruff!” said Danny, surrounding the glass that Kyle slid in front of him. The ice cube was noticeably smaller.

River Life

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He sat in the pilot house watching Emmie through the wide front windshield as she hopped from the shore side barge to the outside one securing the lines in the short tow that they were contracted to take downstream. Given the light trip it was just the two of them on the boat today the other two of the regular crew enjoying a day at home.

He had taken her aboard the Maddy Belle over the summer as a favor to her uncle-whom it was better to have as a friend than an enemy. Three years widowed and a riverman for life, James Shacksbird had felt himself sliding into a comfortably solitary existence; his relationships a series of contracts, contacts and gentleman’s agreements. He relished the chance to have done something for the Deacon-to perhaps have him, if not in his debt, then at least well disposed toward him.

Watching her at her labors he had noticed a slight wobble in her gait. Something that, underway, could be attributed to a wave or the flow of current-but they were tied up tighter than a tick. Nothing was moving. It wasn’t a stagger-not a stumble-just a wobble. But with one as sure footed as Emmaline, who he had seen walk yardarms on the old schooners, a wobble was telling.

Gray drizzly October day. Couldn’t blame her, he thought. When he was drinking these were the days that did him in. He slid the side window and put his head out.

“Emmaline!”

She paused and turned toward him. “Yes?”

“Put on your life jacket.”

“We’re not underway.”

“Is that the river below us?”

There was nothing to be said. With a touch of petulance she took up her float and strapped it on. He probably would have just gone back to his book had she not paused once correctly outfitted and, coming to attention, snapped a quick military salute toward him.

She was always-different-with him when the others weren’t on the boat. She was headstrong and independent, used to running her own life and answered to no one ashore. Out on the boat, actually having to maintain subordinate position chafed her. Not a lot, but he felt it when they were on the Maddy alone. He had made mental notes to not do solo runs with her but mental notes are meant to be erased.

“Emmaline”, he called again. “Come up here please.”

One of the reasons the Deacon wanted her on the boat was to keep her out of the taverns. As he put it, his niece had an outsized thirst for strong drink. She had proven to be a quick learner, fearless, a more than capable riverhand, but always thirsty.

“Yes, Cap’n?” she asked cheekily as she stepped into his pilot house.

“You’re drunk woman.”

“Oh, I’m woman, am I? Not girl or child.”

“I never disputed you a woman.”

“Which, then, gives me leave to be drunk on occasion. If I were. Which I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Nope.”

They eyed each other across the small space.

“What then are you?”

“Perhaps, tipsy.”

“Tipsy.”

“Perhaps.”

“If so, does that seem a characteristic I would want in a mate or even a deck hand?”

“The British Navy would feed their sailors rum by the bottle.”

“By the shot actually-not the bottle. And this isn’t the British Navy.”

She was warming to the banter and became anxious when he went silent pulling on his lower lip. She had made a study of James these last months. The man was difficult to read beyond orders but she knew this to be his thinking posture. She thought of the bottle stowed on the barge, under the ropes. Maybe she had touched it one time too many that morning.

“What are you thinking?”

“Wondering how quickly I could get word to Thomas to join me on this tow once I put you ashore.”

“Ashore!? I’m not going ashore!”

“You are. We discussed this.”

“No! We…”

“The last time you were…tipsy.”

“My Uncle….”

“Your uncle would not appreciate me allowing you to drown on my watch-or be crushed between barges-because you were drunk. He will understand why you’re not on the river anymore.”

Emmaline panicked that the decision seemed to have been made already. This wasn’t a debate anymore-this was the end of her short river career.

“That wasn’t all you said!” she yapped nervously. “You didn’t say you’d fire me. You remember what you said?”

Since he quit drinking he forgot nothing. It was misery-every word he uttered stacked like cordwood in his head to be recalled at will. But these ones he let be.

“I remember telling you I’d put you ashore.”

“No. You said you would thrash me. You said you would beat me purple if I were drunk on your boat again.”

“Figure of speech. A threat to discourage you, that’s all. Fat lot of good it did.”

Emmaline was somewhere in her twenties-a full decade younger than he. She had a sharpness about her that extended beyond her tongue. She kept her dark hair short but no one would describe her as boyish. Athletic yes; nimble yes, but well-endowed top and bottom. It was solely the fact that she was clearly in his charge that had kept James from regarding her in way he might any other woman of her age and appearance.

“You should do it, then.” She said her voice tight in her throat.

Continued in (If the boat’s a rockin’…)

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.

(To be continued…If you liked this, I’d humbly recommend Ellison-an excerpt from “The Agency”from a couple of years ago.)

Lucky James-Mrs. Fortescue

Continued from Sweet James – The Letter

Absorbed in his raking, James was facing the lake and didn’t hear her approach. Caitlin Milan was in no hurry to interrupt him, content to watch the muscles in his back twist and flow as he labored shirtless in the creamy afternoon sun.

“Well, I must say, someone’s been very busy”, she said.

He smiled widely, straightened, and turned to face his benefactor.

Caitlin positively glowed in the sunlight that gleamed over James’ shoulder. Her hair, styled short around her face but falling over her collar, was streaked in honey shades-darker buckwheat to glimmering wildflower-to offset her piercing hazel eyes. She was tall-almost as tall as James-with wide swimmer’s shoulders and perfectly round small breasts. No real secrets there as she wore a tight fitted shirt that clung to her frame before disappearing into the waist of tight black slacks.

“It’s coming along, I think”, James said looking admiringly over the grounds.

“’Coming along…’ I would say so. Your secret has been blown, Mr. Cooke. Jane has let me know the sad state of affairs here when you came aboard. Your sanguine reports to the contrary.”

“I saw no need to trouble you with something as insignificant as the truth when you were on holiday. Figured given enough time you’d be none the wiser when you returned.”

“Most people in your position would have made the situation seem worse than it was-so that the reward upon finishing it would be greater.”

“Truthfully, couldn’t have been much worse…and to the other…just happy to be here. Thanks for thinking of me. “

“Tut”, she waved her hand dismissively. “Should have thought of you sooner…but…your recent….what do we say-episodes? Escapades? Debauches? All round reputation…” she raised a finger as he tried to protest. “Recently as I said…put me off I suppose.”

“Yes, well. Not much in the last month or so…since I moved into the boathouse.”

“So I’ve heard as well…Let’s try to keep that up.”

“Yes Ma’am”, he said. “Working on it…”

“Very good”, then with a final sweeping look around the grounds. “Very nice…Well, I’ll leave you to it.” she turned to head back up the hill. “Please meet us in the library at 5:00, James”, she called over her shoulder. She strode in a way that made James believe that she knew-and didn’t mind-that he was watching her ass undulating up the walkway. He regretfully broke off the stare and bent back to the rake.

The old brick house, shaded by towering black walnut and oak, kept the cool of the forest glade that it had been built in two hundred years earlier. He didn’t usually have cause to enter through the large front door but it gave easier access to the library than the roundabout side entrance. He paused inside a moment to let his eyes adjust to the perpetual dusk. A quick shower, fresh chinos and a dark shirt prepared him for dinner, drinks or more likely, tales of Tuscany from the returned matron.

James followed the voices murmuring down the hall. Straining, he only heard two-Caitlin and Mrs. Fortescue. As he got closer he could pick up the tone if not the substance of the conversation-Caitlin calm and steady, Jane a little…not strident exactly, but forceful and loud by comparison. As someone who has no control over a situation might be. He entered the room during a lull in the debate, knocking on the door frame as he came in.

The women paused. “Oh, great…now he’s here too”, Mrs. Fortescue griped in frustration.

James froze halfway into the room, one foot suspended in the air like a heron eyeing a minnow. His heart raced a little as he beheld the tableau in front of him.

“Now Jane, come on…” said Caitlin.

Caitlin was at the window holding the drapes aside looking nonchalant-as if there wasn’t enough going on in the room to hold her attention. Jane was standing at the table-one hand on the surface but not leaning. Just two women talking-nothing untoward about that. Until, that is, one looked around the room and noticed the armless chair sitting in the middle of the room. And behind the chair, on a low table, a round wooden paddle.

This was it. This is that whispered-about thing that made Goosington a scandal or joke in some quarters. Why few locals wanted to work there. Anyone who joined the staff on any level was made to understand that mistakes made in the employ of Caitlin Milan had consequences. Maybe not one mistake-maybe not even the second-the lady could be flexible for sure. But always, the threat was there. And, as with any threat, sometimes it had to be carried out or it stopped being a threat.

Caitlin would narrow her eyes and point-“those are grounds” she’d say. “For a spanking” went unsaid. Many had felt ice in their belly at those words. Sometimes she’d say you “goofed”; a simple, sweet word that had such a painful connotation at the Manse.

Not that it happened all the time. James had only seen one spanking in his previous posting. That had been a young serving maid who was woefully unprepared for her job. He thought she had been taken on as a favor. As he recalled, Caitlin had stood for what seemed to be dozens of shattered glasses and cracked plates-enough that the rest of the staff was murmuring about it-before she had to act.

The staff had all gathered right here in the library-of course there were eight of them then-with the same chair in the center. The spectacle of the spanking lost some of its charm as the young girl-nineteen tops, slim of hips and flat of bum-blubbered from the time she entered the library and wailed through her punishment. Caitlin gave her reason to cry, no doubt-she never held back-but it got so that even the staff who had been whispering about ‘favoritism’ were wriggling in their seats before it was over.

Truth is though, he never heard of so much as a chipped saucer after that and two years later the girl left Goosington to join the staff of a posh country club with a strong recommendation from the Lady herself. Who knew what motivated people?

His reverie was interrupted by the ongoing negotiations in the room. He guessed that everyone in the library knew this was going to happen eventually. This was the ‘little conversation’ Caitlin had mentioned and she was wasting no time in having it.

”You were charged with the management of the property, Jane. You didn’t have to really do anything but pay attention to what others were doing.”

“Look, I….”

“How could you have let it get that bad?”

“It wasn’t that bad when I checked the first time…when they got here…”

“And when did you check the second time? Was it before or after you gave them the money to buy materials for the dock?”

Jane shrugged and threw up her hands. “Caitlin. I’m not saying I don’t deserve…what you’re going to give me. Not saying that. I do. I’m so sorry for this.” She paused and swallowed. “I know I let you down. I know it. And I’ll take my medicine. OK? All I’m saying is that I don’t want to lie across your lap. I mean really, that’s for children and young ladies. I’m old enough to be your….”

“You are not Jane Fortescue-don’t even go there!”

“I was going to say aunt!”

Caitlin smiled at that. “My aunt, huh? I have one of those and she’s a pistol-I’ll tell you. Could probably benefit from a good spanking herself.”

“Look-Caitlin”, Jane had both hands on the table. “I’ll bend over here-however you need me to-and you can have at it. Just me bending over.” She had her back to James as she demonstrated. Her slacks were not tight exactly, but well fitted. James made excuses to visit the main house on the days when Mrs. Fortescue wore slacks that looked to be painted on. The contours of her hips and backside pushed every seam just to its fullest capacity.

The Lady of the House gave one last gaze out the window as if the answer were out there somewhere written on the clouds. Then, letting the drapery drop, she turned into the room and Jane.

“I get what you’re saying. I do. But let’s just do this the way we’ve always done it. OK?”

Jane dropped her chin, her gaze and her shoulders all at once. She had seen enough of these punishments in her years at the house to know what was coming-no use in fighting anymore. She deserved it, she accepted it, but she was NOT looking forward to it. After eleven years this would be her first.

“Let’s get on with it, shall we? James you are not an umbrella stand. Come away from the door. Sit.”

James took a few steps toward the couch that would put him directly across from Caitlin on the chair then redirected. He sat instead in the overstuffed lounge to Caitlin’s right, giving himself a view that he might enjoy more. Because yes, he had to admit he would enjoy this.

He had no particular antipathy toward Jane. On the contrary, he rather liked her-in addition to the carnal interest that he had in apparently all women. He knew of people who had worked at the house who were made uncomfortable by this whole drama-and some left employ here not because they were spanked, but because they had to watch others being spanked. That wasn’t James.

Jane noticed exactly where he was sitting and James might have imagined her small head shake before she turned to face the seated Caitlin for the recitation. It was the same with every spanking-something that made it all seem somehow more official and right. Jane stood and waited.

“Do you deserve this punishment, Jane?” Caitlin asked looking up.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Do you accept this punishment that I am about to mete out?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And any other I deem necessary in the course of your employment here?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Very good then. Step around.”

Jane stepped to the side, turning her back to face Caitlin’s lap. James was back to was admiring the shape and imagining the feel of her bum when the pants went loose at the top, Jane having opened her belt and unsnapped in front. As if watching a curtain rise in reverse, Lucky James saw the pink silk of her panties revealed-sharing a similar snug fit to the pants.

With only a slight pause she caught her thumbs in the waistband of her underwear and rolled them down to settle at her knees with the pants. She was no slim-hipped serving maid, that’s for sure. Jane Fortescue’s bottom was a woman’s bottom-wide and strong, heavy and creamy, gloriously if sparsely dimpled and bisected by a deep crevasse that James knew she holding together as best she could.

James crossed one leg over the other and settled sideways as Jane lowered herself slowly over Caitlin’s lap, the younger woman leaning back to make room. When she was down, Caitlin moved her backwards a little so that her bottom was positioned right over the rise of the Lady’s thigh almost exactly in James sight-line.

Without warning she raised her hand and smacked Jane’s right cheek as hard as she could. “Ouch!” the woman jumped, surprised. Then another hard smack in the same place raised the woman onto her toes. “Ow, that stings.” James, as unobtrusively as possible, shifted himself and crossed the other leg over.

“I bet it does. This”, she reached back and picked the paddle from the table “Will sting more, I’m afraid. Are you ready for this Jane?”

“Yes, Ma’am”, came the muffled reply.

Jane had braced herself on her toes with her hands flat on the floor. She was as ready as she could be. Caitlin raised the paddle and swatted her firmly on the right cheek. Jane jumped forward but said nothing. The next swat landed in the center of the left cheek and she again managed to hold off crying out. Not until the fifth swat landed loudly in the middle of her left cheek did she grunt.

On the sound, Caitlin paused to give her friend a moment to collect herself. Her bottom was splotching pink and the small of her back glistened slightly. For her part, Jane dug her fingernails into the carpet. She had promised herself to take this in silence but she didn’t know if she’d be able to. Her bottom was burning but her head hurt almost as much from clenching her teeth. Maybe it would be better to let it out.

“Go ahead, Caitlin” she said in a hoarse whisper that he couldn’t quite make out. The next three smacks landed hard in the center of her right cheek. Her butt was just as solid as it looked and absorbed the swats but it wasn’t much longer before she reacted with a sharp gasp. Caitlin’s only answer was a group of rapid smacks alternating cheeks and splitting them dead in the middle. Jane writhed on her lap and finally choked back a sob. “Caitlin! Christ, that hurts so much!” Another landed with a SWAT! “Ahhh…please….OW!!!” From his seat James couldn’t see Jane reaching back to grasp Caitlin’s ankle.

Over the next few moments-or minutes as the perception of time passing was very different for the three people in the room-Jane’s crying became more subdued as she tried to muscle through. She was doing her best to stay in place but the tiny kicks with her knees-almost running in place-had loosed her pants from around her knees down to her ankles. Without the tourniquet keeping her legs together, Jane’s writhing was exposing more than she would have wanted to show.

Caitlin, for her part, began backing off on the paddle judging the completion of the punishment by the dark red shades of the older woman’s bottom and the heat rising from it. To test, she slipped the paddle into her left hand and lay her right gently onto the glowing cheeks-cupping one, then the other. Time stood still. There was no sound-nary a sniffle-and the only movement was Caitlin’s hand gently patting her friend’s bottom.

“I think we’re done here”, Caitlin said huskily.

James, realizing he’d been holding his breath, exhaled and leaned back recrossing his legs yet again. Jane watched a tear drop and spread out on the carpet below her before pushing herself up-accepting a hand from her employer to help her stand. He beheld the glowing sunset colors of her backside for as long as he could.

Caitlin, wishing to spare her friend the final indignity of squatting or bending to pull up her pants, leaned forward herself and-with her cheek close enough to Jane Fortescue’s thighs that the older woman could feel her warm feathering of her breath-unrolled and lifted first the panties then the slacks up to where Jane could take them.

“Thank you”, said Jane softly.

Nothing more to be said or done, Jane turned and walked briskly, if a little stiffly to the door. She wished at this moment that her slacks had a looser fit. James opted to look away not wanting to catch her eye just now and not wanting her to catch a glimpse of his crotch.

When he looked back, Caitlin was back at the window. She knew her cheeks were flushed and she breathed deeply to still her shaking hands.

To be continued…….