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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Vicki Learns Her Lesson
by Author Obscure (1993)
***
A teenaged female shoplifter caught in the act. (M/f-
teen, nc, blkmail, v, tor, whipping, oral, anal-play)
***
Monday
------
Vicki did a slow, graceful pirouette in the confines of
the dressing room, seeing herself from different
perspectives in each of the three full-length mirrors.
She was, she told herself happily, absolutely stunning
in the emerald-green bikini. Danny couldn't fail to
notice her -- not if she wore this to the senior class
swimming party!
The thought of Danny made her knees go weak. She saw
the top of the bikini in the mirror sprout little knobs
as her nipples hardened abruptly. Her face reddened at
the thought that a swimming suit could advertise her
feelings so readily.
For four years -- all her life, really -- Vicki had
maintained what her teachers called a "wholesome"
image. She'd behaved in class, done her homework, made
good grades, lettered on the girls' track team, joined
after-school clubs, never cut classes, said "no" to
booze and drugs. It had always been a foregone
conclusion that she would go to college after high
school, and in the past few months she'd received an
almost embarrassing variety of scholarships, based both
on her scholastic record and her civic contributions.
At the same time she knew, as a matter of calm
certainty, that she was the best looking girl in her
class. Most of her fellow students would agree that she
had the prettiest face, but a number of girls were
commonly regarded as sexier. That was because they
tended to have dirty mouths and wore clothes that her
parents had taught her to regard as "trashy." Vicki had
seen those girls taking showers after gym class, and
there was no doubt at all that her breasts were fuller
and rounder, her stomach flatter, her thighs trimmer
and her butt firmer, than those of any of those
"sexier" girls.
No one else knew that, because Vicki wore clothes that,
while attractive, did little to call attention to her
figure, just as her reputation as a good student and
all around "nice girl" tended to discourage boys'
speculative attempts to get inside her clothes. The
last two years she'd dated a lot, going out with a
number of the most popular boys but never limiting
herself to one exclusively. Kissing, even French
kissing, was okay, but she had never let a boy feel
her, not even her breasts. It wasn't that she was a
prude, she was sure of that. She wasn't determined to
be a virgin when she got married, or anything so
extreme, but none of the boys she'd met so far seemed
all that special to her.
Until Danny. Danny who'd transferred to her high school
midway through senior year, Danny the third baseman,
Danny the soccer forward, Danny who washed his car on
Saturday morning wearing only ragged cutoffs. Vicki
suppressed a giggle as she remembered thinking, five
minutes after she'd seen Danny washing his car, that
her pants were probably wetter than his!
The problem was that Danny had never seemed to notice
her as anyone special. He'd say hi to her in the hall,
but he had never asked her out, and she never caught
him looking at her the way a lot of the boys did. Vicki
knew he'd gone out with other girls, but he didn't seem
to have anyone special either.
To get Danny's attention, Vicki was prepared to relax
her nice-girl image. (In fact, Vicki knew, if Danny
suggested it she was prepared to relax more than her
image!) The senior swim party looked like her best
opportunity. It was two weeks away, after senior exams
but before graduation, and everyone would be there. All
she had to do was be more noticeable than any of the
other girls. The swim party would, in a sense, be her
"coming out" party, and no one who saw her wearing the
emerald bikini would ever see her again, no matter what
she wore, in the same way they'd seen her before.
Vicki was pretty sure her parents wouldn't approve of a
suit like this one -- the bottom wasn't much bigger
than the top -- and she felt guilty about having to
deceive them, but they weren't very likely to find out.
What made her feel even more guilty was that, for the
first time in her life, she was about to steal
something.
The price tag on the strapless bikini was an even sixty
dollars, and Vicki had exactly $38.47. She'd brought
several cheaper suits into the dressing room and tried
them on first, but none of the others looked even half
as good on her. Her mother would probably advance her
enough money, but not without asking why, and Vicki
decided that she would rather steal the bikini than lie
to her mother about why she wanted the loan.
Her purse seemed to be the only place to conceal
anything, and Vicki decided that if anyone got
suspicious, her own underwear would be less conspicuous
in her purse than the bright green of the bikini. She
stuffed her bra and panties deep into the purse,
covering them with her hairbrush, her pocketbook and a
package of Kleenex, and quickly zipped herself into her
skirt and buttoned her blouse.
She was pretty sure that no one was using the dressing
room next to hers, so Vicki took the hanger on which
the bikini had hung and dropped it over the partition
separating the two rooms. It landed with a soft "thud"
on the carpeted floor, but there was no other sound. So
far, so good.
Vicki gathered up the other suits and their hangers and
stepped out of the dressing room. A sales clerk was
ringing up a purchase at the counter twenty feet or so
away, but she seemed to be paying no attention to the
dressing rooms. Vicki walked over the counter and
waited until the clerk had finished with her customer.
"I'm sorry," Vicki said. "None of these really seems to
be 'me'. Should I put them back on the hangers?" The
sales clerk thanked her for offering but said that
she'd had more practice and could do it quickly, so
Vicki left the tangle of cloth, plastic and wire on the
counter and started toward the front of the store. Her
heart was pounding, and she expected at any second to
hear someone shout "stop, thief!"
The dreaded shout never came. Vicki stepped out the
front door and shuddered with relief. Involuntarily she
looked back into the store and saw a young man walking
calmly toward her. "Excuse me, miss, didn't you forget
your purchase?" he asked politely. He stopped several
feet away from her.
"No," Vicki responded, walking toward him to avoid
raising her voice, "I tried some things on but decided
not to buy anything."
"I don't want to embarrass you," the young man said
apologetically, "but would you mind opening your purse
for a moment?"
Vicki felt her face turn scarlet. Thank God, she
thought, that I decided to wear it. She stepped closer
to the young man and handed him her purse. He opened
the clasp and began removing the items on top. Then he
lifted her bra and panties out and looked at her
questioningly.
"Those are mine," she croaked, blushing furiously.
"Please put them back."
The young man complied, and replaced the other things
he'd taken from her purse, but he didn't hand the purse
back to her.
"I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to come with me to the
manager's office," he told her. He sounded a little
less polite now. Without waiting for a response from
her, he turned and started walking toward the back of
the store.
Vicki felt a nearly irresistible urge to turn and run
outside the store, but where could she go, what could
she do? The man had her purse, her car keys, and he
would know who she was and where she lived as soon as
he looked in her wallet. She forced her rubbery legs to
follow the man.
He strode the length of the department store without
looking back until he had pushed through a swinging
door marked "Employees Only." He held the door open
briefly for Vicki, then knocked once on a closed door
before turning the knob and ushering Vicki into a small
office. He closed the door behind her and took her
purse over to a desk at the side of the office.
"This is Frank Jameson, the general manager of the
store," he told her, nodding toward the man seated
behind the desk, and then backed out of the office and
closed the door quietly. Jameson said nothing, but
opened Vicki's purse and began spreading its contents
out across his desk. When he came to the bra and
panties, he pushed the other items to one side.
He straightened the bra and laid it out in the middle
of his desk, cups upward and shoulder straps toward
himself. Then he smoothed the panties and placed them
flat on the desk, waistband toward the bra and about
the same distance away as they would have been if Vicki
had been wearing both. Vicki felt as though she, and
not just her underwear, had been stretched flat on
Jameson's desk for him to gaze at.
When Jameson finally spoke, his voice was as cold as
his expression. "Why were you carrying these in your
purse?" he demanded, gesturing toward the lewdly
arranged lingerie.
"I-I was going to a swimming party," Vicki stammered,
"and I wanted to change into those later."
"So you're wearing your swimsuit now?" asked Jameson.
Vicki nodded weakly.
"Let's see it." Jameson's words were a command, not a
request, and with trembling fingers Vicki unbuttoned
her blouse and pulled it open. Suddenly the emerald
cloth seemed too insubstantial to protect her from
Jameson's leering eyes.
"Show me the rest of it," Jameson snapped, and Vicki
wondered whether he wanted to see the rest of the
bikini or the rest of her body. She thought about
lifting her skirt to let him see the bikini bottom, but
somehow that seemed even more degrading than taking the
skirt off, so she unzipped it and let it fall to the
floor.
Vicki stood silently as Jameson made a complete circle
around her. She was sure that the brilliantly colored
cloth had turned as transparent as Saran Wrap under his
probing inspection.
"Where did you get this bikini?" he demanded sharply.
"I got it here, a couple of weeks ago," Vicki answered.
It was her first outright lie, but she had a faint hope
that Jameson would accept it, even if he knew the suit
had come from his store.
Jameson's eyes gleamed. Suddenly, with a movement
faster than Vicki would have thought possible from
someone of his bulk, Jameson's hand snaked out and
caught the front edge of the bikini's waistband and
rolled it halfway down. She cried out in surprise and
pain as his fingers jabbed through the flimsy cloth
into her abdomen, and then her heart sank -- for there,
nestled among the upper wisps of her pubic hair, was
the bikini's $60 price tag, still attached by its nylon
filament!
"This suit," Jameson told her, jabbing at the tag with
his other index finger, "was just put on display
yesterday." He pulled his hand away and let the bikini
snap back against her skin.
Vicki began to sob. "All right," she choked, "I took
it, this morning. I didn't have enough money with me,
but it was just perfect, and I really needed it. I'll
find some way to pay for it."
With tears streaming down her face, Vicki stepped out
of her skirt and stumbled over to Jameson's desk. She
found a Kleenex among the things Jameson had pulled
from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. Jameson said
nothing.
"Please," Vicki pleaded, "I've never stolen anything
before and I'll never do it again. Let me give you the
money I've got now and I'll bring the rest no later
than the day after tomorrow."
"I'm afraid that's not our policy, Miss..." Jameson
opened her wallet and glanced at her driver's license.
"Wilkins," he finished. "Shoplifting costs us so much
every year that we've made a firm policy of turning
anyone we catch over to the police, and making sure
they're prosecuted with maximum publicity, in order to
deter other thieves."
Vicki began to cry again. "Oh, no," she wailed. "I'm
graduating in two weeks. If you prosecute me, I'll get
suspended, they won't let me graduate, I'll lose my
scholarships. And it will just kill my parents! Please
don't do that!"
"It's a little late to be thinking of those things
now," Jameson responded. He listened to Vicki's weeping
and pleading for a minute or two, and then asked her
"Would you like to know how we knew you had stolen the
suit?"
Vicki nodded, not sure why that made any difference
now, but willing to do anything to delay her inevitable
doom.
"Come with me to the security office," Jameson
instructed, and opened the back door of his office.
Vicki followed him out the door and down a flight of
stairs that led to the basement under the store. The
stairwell was drafty and Vicki could feel goosebumps
springing up all over her barely covered body.
Jameson led her through an unmarked door and into
another office. This one was considerably bigger than
Jameson's, and nicer as well. The walls were paneled,
the floor thickly carpeted. The furnishings included a
sofa, several easy chairs, a huge desk with glass to
protect its wood surface, and wooden shelves stacked
with electronic equipment, including a whole row of
what looked like small television sets. Below them was
one of the largest television screens Vicki had ever
seen.
"Those little TV screens," Jameson told her, "are
hooked to cameras above each of our dressing rooms."
Vicki was horrified. "You mean you sit here and spy on
people trying on clothes?" she demanded.
"I don't," Jameson answered. "We have a woman who
monitors the cameras for the women's dressing rooms
part of the time and a man who monitors the men's area
part time. I only get called when they see something
like this."
Jameson punched some buttons and snow appeared on the
big TV screen. The snow turned into some wavy lines,
and then the picture cleared.
Vicki gasped as she recognized herself on the screen.
She watched herself remove first her blouse and then
her skirt. She saw her breasts spring into view, and
then the dark thatch of her pubic region. The camera
was well above her, but every detail was shown in
perfect clarity, even the little mole on the right side
of her bottom. She felt nauseous as she watched her-
self trying on each of the different suits, stripping
it off and putting on the next, until finally she put
her clothes on over the green bikini.
"My God, that's outrageous," Vicki hissed at Jameson
after the screen had gone dark.
"We will, of course, have to give that tape to the
police," Jameson observed, "to prove to them that we
had good cause to detain you. And I'm sure it will be
very effective evidence at your trial, too."
"Oh, no," Vicki moaned in horror. In addition to all of
the other humiliations she had foreseen, God only knew
how many people would see her totally naked on the
tape. Half the cops in town would get copies to show on
their VCR's at home, and everyone would know about it.
"Please," she begged, "there has to be some way, I
mean, I'll do anything you say to make it up to you,
but please, please don't go to the police."
Jameson looked at her for perhaps two minutes, though
it seemed like two hours to Vicki, without saying a
word. Finally he sighed. "Look," he said, "you're a
thief, and as far as I'm concerned you deserve all the
things you say are going to happen to you. There's no
way I'm going to let you just walk away from this."
Vicki broke into despairing sobs again, but stifled
them when Jameson continued speaking.
"On the other hand, I suppose if you get kicked out of
school you'll probably wind up on welfare, living on my
tax dollars and stealing besides, and I don't need that
either. So, Miss Wilkins, I'll give you a choice."
"What kind of choice?" Vicki asked hesitantly. Not that
it mattered a whole lot, because anything had to be
better than being turned over to the police.
"You can take your punishment publicly, through the
'system', or you can have it privately, right here,"
Jameson replied.
"What do you mean, what sort of private punishment?"
Vicki inquired.
"A spanking, Miss Wilkins, that will be as painful to
you as being prosecuted publicly -- that you will
remember the rest of your life, and will remember
especially clearly if you ever think of stealing
anything again."
Vicki was both shocked and relieved. She'd been
expecting Jameson to demand that she have sex with him,
and she thought she probably would have agreed; as
loathsome as the idea was, it would have been less
ruinous than the alternative. But a spanking! Vicki
couldn't remember the last time she'd been spanked,
though she recalled that she had received a few
spankings as a small child, for running into the
street, poking things into electric sockets or really
dangerous behavior like that. Being spanked like a
child would be humiliating, but it was better than what
she'd feared, and certainly better than having that
tape spread all over town.
"Well, Miss Wilkins," Jameson interrupted her thoughts.
"Which is it going to be? Public discipline or
private?"
"Private, please," Vicki whispered.
"All right," said Jameson. "Then let's get a couple of
rules straight right now. First, the kind of spanking
I'm talking about will take more than one session.
Today is Monday, and we'll start today, but I want you
back here at four o'clock sharp each afternoon this
week; our last session will be on Friday. Is that
clear?"
Vicki felt the muscles in her bottom tighten
involuntarily. This was going to be worse than she'd
thought, but what other choice was there? She nodded to
Jameson.
"You'd better be on time," he continued, "because if
you're five minutes late I'll think you've changed your
mind, and your file will go to the police." Jameson
looked to be sure she was listening.
"Second rule," he went on. "When you come here each
day, you are to be wearing that bikini you have on now
-- I want to be sure you remember the connection
between the crime and the punishment. Do you accept
those rules?"
Vicki nodded mutely, and Jameson walked over to the
sofa and sat down. "Good," he said, "let's get started.
Take your clothes off."
Vicki shrugged out of her already unbuttoned blouse but
begged to be allowed to leave the scanty bikini in
place.
"I don't see what you're so concerned about," Jameson
told her. "I've already seen you on television, wearing
nothing. Besides, I'm not going to spank you with your
clothes on."
"Please," Vicki pleaded, "I'll take the top off..." She
matched her words with the action, exposing her breasts
for the first time -- intentionally -- to a man other
than her doctor. "But let me keep the bottom on. No
one's ever seen me, down there, I mean, and you
couldn't see anything on the tape."
Her face and upper body were crimson with
embarrassment, and Jameson finally relented. He stood
up, walked over to the big desk and reached into one of
the lower drawers. "You can keep the bottom on," he
said. "However," he interrupted her thanks, "instead of
spanking you by hand, as I had intended, I'm going to
use this."
He held up a black paddle-shaped object. It was a
little more than a foot long, with a round handle like
a tennis racquet. The "business end" was maybe two
inches wide and seven inches long; one face of the
paddle part was smooth while the other was perforated
with holes about the size of a pencil.
Jameson returned to the sofa and sat on the edge. He
beckoned to Vicki, who walked shakily toward him, arms
folded across her chest. When she came within reach,
Jameson grabbed the waistband of her "monokini" and
pulled her around to stand beside his right leg.
"Down," he instructed, "across my knees."
Obediently Vicki draped herself over his lap so that
her pelvis rested on Jameson's right leg and her
breasts just cleared the outside of his left leg. His
arm rested heavily across the small of her back, just
above the bikini bottom. Her hands were touching the
carpet and she felt the blood rush to her head. She
tried to picture how she looked from Jameson's
position, and started trembling as she recalled how
much of her bottom the bikini left uncovered. Maybe she
should have taken it off, she thought, and avoided the
paddling that was about to start.
Her fear was reinforced when Jameson rested the smooth,
cold face of the paddle on the right cheek of her
bottom, partly on the bikini and partly on her skin.
Vicki sucked in her breath sharply as she felt the
paddle lift off her behind.
The paddle returned to the spot it had left, but it was
moving with all the speed and force Jameson's beefy arm
could give it. He watched with satisfaction as the firm
roundness of the girl's half-covered ass-cheek
flattened under the thick paddle.
"OWW!" Vicki yelled as the pent-up breath burst from
her lungs. Her eyes filled with tears as the pain
suffused her whole right buttock. She wasn't sure she
could make herself come back for five days of this,
even if he only gave her one a day, and that didn't
seem likely.
The paddle landed again, this time in a symmetrical
spot on the left side of her butt. Again Vicki yelled
in pain, but Jameson paid no attention. He began
peppering her backside with a steady series of blows,
moving randomly from spot to spot but concentrating on
the areas that were left uncovered by the skimpy bikini
bottom. Low and outside, he grinned to himself, but
still a strike.
He wished the girl hadn't been so squeamish about
taking off her pants -- he would have loved to feel the
sting in his hand as it landed on her exposed ass, and
he knew he could have spanked her nearly as hard bare-
handed as he could with the paddle. On the other hand,
if she hadn't been so virginal he probably couldn't
have conned her the way he had.
Jameson knew that if he'd turned her over to the police
she could have copped a plea to a minor misdemeanor and
gotten nothing worse than probation, maybe even a
deferred prosecution so the charges would be dropped if
she stayed out of trouble for a year. The school
wouldn't have found out, because minors' names were
never released. And of course he couldn't have turned
over the videotape -- he couldn't very well let the
public know that he was taking movies of naked girls in
the dressing rooms!
He'd accumulated quite a collection of those movies; it
was incredible what people would do when they thought
no one was looking, especially if you gave them enough
mirrors to see all sides of themselves at once. Jameson
had thought many times about using shoplifting charges
as leverage to get some broad down here, even bought
the paddle and some other toys in anticipation, but
he'd never before found one who was both scared enough
and beautiful enough to be worth the risk. Miss
Victoria Wilkins, whose gorgeous ass was now writhing
under his paddle, was the first, but well worth the
wait.
Jameson's musings had not disrupted his rhythm. By the
time she'd received eight or ten spanks Vicki's yells
had merged into a continuous wail that rose to a
wordless cry each time the paddle struck. She began
kicking her outstretched legs and rolling her hips,
hoping to throw herself off Jameson's lap, or at least
to dodge some the force of the blows, but he merely
tightened his grip around her waist and swung the
paddle a little harder.
After the paddle had landed a couple of dozen times
Jameson decided to give her a rest. Vicki was begging
him incoherently to stop, and Jameson was breathing a
little heavily himself. She laid sobbing and shaking
across his lap for a minute or more before crawling
sideways onto the floor and then standing up.
She touched her bottom gingerly with both hands and
looked at him pleadingly. "Please, can I go now? It
hurts so badly!"
Jameson snorted. "Don't be silly! We're a long way from
done. I just decided to give you a five minute break."
Vicki broke into renewed sobs, assuring Jameson that
she was sorry, that she'd learned her lesson and would
never steal anything again, and telling him that she
just couldn't take any more. When she saw that Jameson
was adamant, Vicki said "Please, just use your hand,
then. I'll take off my bottom, just don't spank me with
the paddle any more, please."
Jameson was tempted to agree. He wanted to see her
totally nude, and he wanted to spank her bare-handed,
but he decided that it could wait until later in the
week. Better not to let her think she could negotiate
her way out of anything. "I don't care whether you take
your bottom off or leave it on," he told her. "You
decided on the paddle, and that's what you're going to
get. And your five minutes are up."
This statement provoked a fresh round of protests and
wails from Vicki, but in less than a minute she was
back in position across his lap. This time, before
picking up the paddle he pulled the edges of her bikini
bottom up and toward the center, so only the crevasse
between the cheeks of her ass remained covered. This
provided him with a much larger target, milky white in
contrast to the angry red of the areas he'd paddled
earlier.
Without any preliminary contact this time, Jameson
brought the paddle down with a sharp "SMACK" in the
middle of her left ass-cheek. Vicki howled in pain and
rolled toward him in an effort to hide the burning
flesh from another blow. Jameson spanked her equally
hard on the other cheek, and Vicki obligingly rolled
the other direction and exposed the left side of her
ass to his next blow.
By the time Jameson decided to give her another rest,
Vicki's entire ass had turned a fiery red. Again she
begged him to let her leave, and again he refused. "I
told you this would be a spanking you'd remember for
the rest of your life," he reminded the sobbing girl as
he pulled her across his lap for the third time.
He had given her only a dozen spanks or so when he
realized that she'd had enough for one day. Although
Vicki cried continuously, and jerked each time the
paddle struck, it was clear that she no longer felt the
pain of individual strokes. Jameson gave her five more,
bringing the paddle down on her bruised buttocks almost
as hard as he could, and then told her to get up and
get dressed.
Vicki pulled the bottom of the bikini back into place,
refastened the top, and began buttoning her blouse
while Jameson put the paddle back into the desk drawer.
She wondered how she could ever make it back up the
stairs, but it proved to be easier than she'd expected.
In Jameson's office she retrieved her skirt and put it
on, then gathered her panties, bra and other things
from his desk and put them back in her purse. Only then
did Jameson speak.
"Tomorrow afternoon, four o'clock," he reminded her.
"Come straight to this office and knock on the door --
and be sure you're wearing that bikini!"
Vicki's began weeping again at the reminder that she'd
only experienced the first of five days of
indescribable pain. But she nodded through her tears
before opening the office door and going back into
store that had changed so quickly from a place of
delight to one of dread.
Tuesday
-------
Vicki locked her car and hurried toward the store. Her
watch said it was only 3:55, but she didn't want to
take a chance on Jameson's watch being later than hers
-- after the pain and humiliation she'd suffered
yesterday, she wasn't about to go through the public
disgrace of a criminal prosecution as well.
She'd told her mother when she got home last night that
she was really nervous about her exams and didn't feel
like eating, and gone straight back to her room and
changed into her softest nightgown. She spent the
evening trying to study, lying on her stomach; her
bottom was much too sore to sit down, or even to lie on
her back. Finally, after her parents had gone to bed,
Vicki tiptoed into the kitchen and made herself a
snack.
Most of the time while she was supposedly "studying"
Vicki spent reviewing the events of the afternoon and
trying to decide whether to go back the next day for
her second spanking. She felt horribly guilty about her
theft of the bikini -- she wasn't that kind of person
at all, and she couldn't recreate in her mind the
compulsion that had made her decide to take the suit.
Sure, she wanted Danny, but there had to be ways of
going after him that didn't involve her becoming a
criminal.
Part of her wanted to hate Jameson for inflicting so
much pain on her, but another part of her was grateful
to him for giving her a choice rather than just turning
her over to the police. And when Vicki thought about
the punishment she'd received, it was her rear that
recalled the memory of the burning pain, but it was his
eyes through which she saw the scene -- she could look
down and see her naked body across his lap, watch her
ass (completely bare, in her mental vision) bouncing
and squirming under the paddle in her hand.
It made no sense at all. And what made even less sense
was the fact that just picturing the scene in her mind
made her as horny as she'd ever been in her life,
including the day she'd watched Danny washing his car
in his cutoff jeans.
She'd lain in bed after her snack, still too turned on
to sleep. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she'd
pulled her pillow down under her hips to raise her
bottom up in the air and, stretching her arm back until
she could touch her throbbing clitoris with her
fingers, masturbated to a shuddering orgasm. Vicki had
felt a sense of shame as she drifted off to sleep.
She had not been ashamed because she had masturbated --
she'd done that a few times before, and she'd read and
been told that it was "normal" -- but because the image
that had stayed in her mind the entire time was not
that of making love with some gorgeous hunk, as it had
been the other times, but of a naked ass, writhing and
twisting in pain as she spanked it with all her
strength.
By this morning the pain in her tush had subsided
considerably, and she could see no bruises when she
looked in the mirror. She had already pretty well
decided to go back to Jameson again after school, and
the realization that the after- effects didn't last as
long as she'd feared they might made another spanking
seem at least bearable.
Thus Vicki found herself pushing past the "Employees
Only" sign and knocking on the door of Frank Jameson's
office at two minutes to four on Tuesday afternoon.
"Come in," his voice rumbled.
Vicki took a deep breath and opened the door. Jameson's
eyes gleamed when he looked up and saw her. He glanced
at the clock on the wall. "You're right on schedule,
Miss Wilkins. I'm glad to see that; I would hate to
think that our time together yesterday had been wasted.
Shall we go down to the security room?"
She gulped but nodded, and Jameson started toward the
back door of the office. Then he stopped and turned
back to her. "You are, I assume, wearing the bikini
under your street clothes?"
Vicki nodded again. It was having to stop at a service
station and put the bikini on in the rest room that had
almost made her late.
"Good," Jameson nodded, "you may leave the rest of your
clothing here."
She pulled off her sneakers, and then her shirt and her
jeans. Vicki didn't feel quite as embarrassed removing
her clothes in front of Jameson as she had the day
before, but she hoped they wouldn't meet anyone in the
stairwell.
The stairway was as empty, and as chilly, as it had
been on Monday, and the security room was as silent.
Jameson shut the door behind them and flipped a switch
she hadn't noticed before. Must be a lock, Vicki
decided.
Jameson stood in the middle of the room, looking at her
silently. Vicki stood uncertainly for a moment, then
removed the strapless top. She turned toward Jameson,
blushing, and said "I'll take off the bottom today --
that paddle just hurts too much." She peeled the tiny
garment down below her knees and stepped out of it,
standing totally nude a few feet away from the man who
had promised her punishment that she would remember the
rest of her life.
Jameson gave her a wintry smile. "I thought you would
probably come to that conclusion," he said. "However,"
he continued, "yesterday was yesterday, and we can't go
back to the past."
Vicki was mystified. "What are you talking about?" she
asked nervously.
"I mean," replied Jameson, "that we're going to do
things differently today." Grasping her shoulder, he
led her over to the sofa, which had been turned at
right angles and now stood in the middle of the room.
Instead of sitting down as he had the day before,
Jameson led Vicki behind the sofa, pushing her forward
until her naked pubes pressed against the back of the
sofa.
"Lean forward, Miss Wilkins, until your head is on the
cushions." Jameson enforced his command with pressure
on the back of her neck, until Vicki lay doubled over
the back of the sofa. Instinctively she moved her feet
apart so that most of her weight rested on her pelvis
atop the sofa. Vicki's forehead touched the seat
cushion, and she could feel her nipples hardening from
their contact with the rough fabric of the upper
cushion.
Unable to see anything but the upholstery of the sofa,
only millimeters from her face, Vicki closed her eyes
and visualized herself as she must look to Jameson.
With a start she realized that not only was her bottom
totally uncovered, but her spread-legged position gave
Jameson a perfect view of the secret area between her
legs that she had been so determined to hide the day
before. She was even more startled as the feeling of
heat and dampness in that area that had kept her awake
the night before rushed over her. Perhaps, Vicki
thought, this spanking would turn out to be quite
endurable -- as long as Jameson used his hand instead
of that hellish paddle!
Jameson was equally enthralled by the position of his
delectable victim. He was not surprised, of course; he
had worked out all of the positions, as well as their
sequence and the "toys" he would use for each, in his
mind months before. Last night he had moved the sofa to
make plenty of room for him to stand behind the girl --
and to provide better angles for the three video
cameras that were taping everything that took place in
the security room. This production would require a lot
more editing than the single-camera sequences from the
dressing rooms, but when he finished it would be a
masterpiece that he would savor for years!
If anything surprised him it was the absence of any
sign on her unblemished ass of the paddling she'd
endured yesterday. Then, of course, he'd used only the
smooth side of the paddle, while today he'd be using
the perforated side. Tomorrow, he guessed, those
perfect cheeks would not be quite so unmarked.
He had known the girl was a knockout from the moment
he'd seen the tape from the dressing room, but now her
naked beauty, only inches away from him, and the fact
that she seemed more at ease today, was enough to bring
a lump to his throat, and certainly to his pants! It
took all of his will power to refrain from stooping
down and licking her furry little cunt with his tongue,
or unzipping his pants and burying his rigid cock in
her. He was sure that it would slide in without
resistance, even though the girl was a virgin --
something had sure happened to turn her on since the
previous afternoon!
Jameson shook his head as if to fling his thoughts
away. Time to get back to business. He walked quickly
over to the desk to retrieve the paddle. The girl must
have heard him open the drawer, because when he looked
at her she had raised her head and was staring at him
with widened eyes.
"Oh, no, please," she begged, "don't use that again. I
thought you were going to spank me with your hand if I
took off my bottom."
"That was yesterday, Miss Wilkins," Jameson replied
firmly. "I was willing to start you off a little easier
the first day, but you decided otherwise. Each day we
will move on to something different, just as each year
of school gets harder than the last."
Vicki's face revealed her panic. "Please, no," she
whimpered, "I couldn't stand anything that hurt more
than yesterday! I thought you would be happy when I
took my bikini off."
"I knew you would do that," Jameson assured her, "and
if you hadn't I would have taken it off for you today.
And you can, and will, stand whatever I give you, just
the way you've always been able to do what was required
of you in school -- even though the work increased and
became harder as time went on." Jameson was walking as
he spoke, and by the time he had finished he was
standing behind and to the left of her, the paddle in
his right hand and his left hand pressing firmly down
at the base of her spine.
Vicki clenched the cheeks of her bottom together in
fear. She realized that in talking about "increased"
and "harder" schoolwork, Jameson was revealing his
plans for the course of her punishment. She had decided
that she could endure four more spankings like
yesterdays, but if they were going to get worse each
day, she would simply go out of her mind!
The pressure of Jameson's hand increased as he drew
back the paddle, and Vicki held her breath in
anticipation. Her suspense was short-lived. The paddle
landed with a "CRACK" on the fullest part of the left
cheek of her rump, and she howled in agony. It felt
like an entire nest of hornets had stung her behind at
the same time!
Before she could finish her outcry the paddle struck a
second time, lower on the left side. Vicki began to
thrash, kicking her legs wildly and pushing against the
sofa with her hands in a vain effort to regain her
feet, but Jameson's hand, pressing her hard against the
flat top of the sofa's back, kept her buttocks in place
as he spanked them again and again.
The girl's frenzied movements delighted Jameson as he
continued the paddling. The runner's muscles in her ass
and thighs alternately bunched and relaxed as she
struggled, and the twisting of her torso raked her
erect nipples back and forth across the ribbed
upholstery, first distending the breast he could see
and then hiding it from view.
And it was easy to see where he had already spanked her
and where he could inflict fresh pain. Yesterday, the
skin touched by the smooth face of the paddle had
turned a mild pink over a period of several seconds,
but today, each smack with the other face immediately
left an angry red patch punctuated with small white
dots, in a pattern matching the holes in the paddle.
After twenty five or thirty strokes there were few
areas left unmarked and Jameson decided to give her a
rest break. She stopped struggling once she realized
the spanking had ceased, but even after he lifted his
restraining hand Vicki continued to lie over the back
of the sofa sobbing convulsively.
Gradually Vicki's tears subsided and she rose to her
feet, cupping the cheeks of her bottom with both hands.
"Please," she implored Jameson, "please stop now. You
can't imagine how terribly that hurts."
"Of course it hurts," he responded sternly, "and it's
going to keep on hurting -- terribly. If I hadn't been
positive that it would hurt I would have called the
police yesterday and you would have spent the night in
a cell. I told you yesterday that private discipline
would be every bit as painful for you as that you faced
publicly. If you think you would find criminal charges
less painful than what you're getting here, then you'd
better put your stolen bikini back on while I make a
call to the precinct captain."
Jameson glared at the girl as fiercely as he could
while practically holding his breath. If she called his
bluff, he'd be lucky to stay out of jail himself! But
of course she didn't.
With fresh tears she whispered "No, don't do that. But
please, can't we do it like yesterday, with me over
your knees? I thought that was terrible, but this is so
much worse! Please?"
Jameson shook his head and told her to get back in
position over the sofa. Slowly she complied, bending
her knees this time instead of spreading her feet to
accommodate her long legs to the relatively low sofa
back. Jameson quickly grasped one of her thighs with
each hand and, feeling no resistance from the sobbing
girl, pulled them wide apart. He could spank her just
as effectively either way, but he enjoyed watching her
snatch as he paddled her and, more importantly, he
wanted the cameras to have the best view possible!
Vicki wondered vaguely why Jameson wanted her legs
spread apart. She supposed it was because he wanted to
see the area between them, but she no longer cared very
much. She was resigned to the fact that she would have
to accept whatever punishment he cared to administer,
because letting him go to the police was just
unthinkable. If she made him mad enough he might just
do it anyway -- it seemed as though he'd almost reached
that point a few minutes ago -- and she determined to
be as cooperative as she could make herself be for the
rest of the week. If only his spankings didn't hurt so
much!
She felt the pressure of his hand increase and tried to
make herself relax before the hornets stung her again.
This time they came very low, across both cheeks at
once, just above the place where her bottom met her
thighs. Vicki tried hard not to move, but there was no
way she could keep from crying out. Again and again
they stung her, all over her bottom but mostly along
the edges of the crack that separated the halves of her
rear, coming dangerously close to the secret area
between her legs. Each time she screamed and twitched,
but held on to her resolve to be cooperative.
After the paddle had stung her a dozen or more times,
though, the pain overcame her fear of making Jameson
angry, and she began to struggle again. She kicked with
all her athlete's strength, trying futilely to deflect
Jameson's aim. When that failed she planted her feet
and tried to swing her hips from side to side, to dodge
the blows, but the pressure Jameson was applying to her
lower back kept her from moving more than an inch in
either direction.
Worse still, Jameson began spanking the backs and
insides of her thighs, and continued until she stopped
struggling. Then the paddle moved upward and an
especially venomous bunch of hornets swarmed over her
backside, stinging, biting and ripping at her skin
until Vicki was sure there was none left. Just as
suddenly they had come the hornets left, and the room
was silent except for the echo of her last agonized
scream.
Jameson lifted his hand from her back and Vicki clawed
her way forward, dragging her legs over the top of the
sofa until she was able to topple off the front edge.
She huddled on the floor for a minute and then rose
slowly to her knees. Just as slowly she raised her head
until her eyes found his.
"Please, Mr. Jameson, that's enough," she cried. You
have to stop. I feel like I'm on fire, and I just can't
take any more. Please, I beg you."
He looked at her steadily for a moment before speaking.
"You have had a rather severe spanking, Miss Wilkins,
but that's what you're here for. I will give you
another two minutes to rest, and then you will go back
over the sofa so we can finish for the day." He knew
that she had already received a far more painful
beating than he'd given her the day before, and he
didn't intend to give her more than another half dozen
strokes. But he was also determined to make her realize
that he would not succumb to any amount of pleading.
Vicki sank back to the floor and lay prone, moaning "I
can't, I just can't," over and over.
Still holding the paddle, Jameson looked at his watch.
When two minutes had passed he snapped "Your time is
up, Miss Wilkins. On your feet." He waited while she
struggled to her knees.
"I can't," she repeated. Please don't spank me any
more."
"Miss Wilkins, I am warning you. Get back in position
or I will make you very, very sorry!" Jameson shouted.
Vicki rose to her feet but made no move to return to
the sofa. Angered now by her disobedience, Jameson
seized her hand and pulled her toward him. Planting his
right foot on the sofa, he dragged her over his
horizontal thigh and clamped both of her hands behind
her back with his left hand.
"NO, DON'T," Vicki wailed, but her cry ended in a
shriek of pain as he began swatting her bruised
buttocks with the perforated paddle. Her legs flailed
helplessly as he blistered first one cheek and then the
other. Instead of the five or six strokes he'd
intended, Jameson spanked her another two dozen times,
more than half of the blows landing in previously
unmarked areas on her upper thighs.
Finished, he pulled his foot off the sofa, dropping
Vicki unceremoniously into a sobbing heap on the
carpeted floor. "That's more than double what you would
have received if you'd obeyed me," Jameson told her,
"and you have no one but yourself to blame."
He turned on his heel, tossed the paddle into the desk
drawer and strode to the door. "You know where my
office is," Jameson snapped. "I'll be there for the
next thirty minutes. Unless you want to walk home
without your clothes, you'll be there before I leave."
He opened the heavy door of the security room and
slammed it behind him, leaving Vicki to weep alone.
Vicki lay sniffling on the floor for a few more
minutes, but the awareness that her punishment was over
for the day soon revived her spirits. She thought about
the evening ahead. She couldn't skip dinner with her
parents two days in a row, and she really did need to
do some studying. She hoped that she wouldn't find
herself as distracted as she'd been the night before.
Those thoughts stimulated her memory of that strange
image of being the giver and at the same time the
receiver of a painful spanking. Rising to her feet,
Vicki walked behind the sofa and pressed herself
against it, bending forward until she was in the same
position Jameson had demanded. She heard herself moan
as her tender breasts contacted the scratchy fabric,
and she began shifting her weight from one foot to the
other and back again, swaying gently from side to side
and raking her hardening nipples across the vertical
sofa cushion.
Suddenly Vicki had the sense that she was looking at
herself, from a position behind and above her moving
hips. She felt the pressure of a restraining hand --
but she knew it was her hand -- on her lower back,
forcing her to stop moving, and she saw, and at the
same time felt, the muscles in her ass begin to twitch
as they waited in terrible anticipation for her to
begin the spanking.
She could see a dark area where those trembling ass-
cheeks met the widespread thighs below them, but her
mind refused to supply any detail to the dark area,
because Vicki had never seen her secret place from that
angle. She wished that there were a couple of mirrors
positioned so she could see for herself what Jameson
saw, but there were none in the room.
Hoping to create the missing visual image from her
sense of touch, Vicki raised her head and torso until
she was leaning forward only slightly and slid her
right hand slowly down her lower spine, through the
tingling valley between the bruised cheeks of her
posterior, until she felt the slippery groove in her
secret place. Although she had intended only the merest
touch, a wave of heat surged around and through her
like a blast of tropical air, and Vicki felt her
fingers being pulled inside her. She leaned backward,
still pressed against the sofa, so her fingers could
penetrate more deeply, and cried out with shock and
amazement as her body seized control.
Her body alternately sucked her fingers deep within
itself and expelled them, and her buttocks writhed in
an erratic circle, forcing her protruding clitoris into
repeated contact with the edge of her hand while the
nails of her other hand clawed across her swollen
breasts until her nipples were the size of thimbles.
Her movements became more and more frantic as she felt
the orgasm building inside her, until finally it surged
through her in wave after dizzying wave, casting her at
last onto the back of the sofa, exhausted.
Vicki wouldn't know it for a long time, but she had
provided Jameson's video cameras with the most torridly
erotic footage he would ever see.
As Vicki's mind began to clear she realized that nearly
thirty minutes must have passed since Jameson had left.
Still trembling from the impact of the waves that had
swirled through her, Vicki retrieved the emerald bikini
and put it on. She opened the door of the security room
a few inches and peeked out. There was no one in sight,
and she climbed the stairs on rubbery legs and knocked
on Jameson's door.
He opened the door and stepped back as Vicki entered.
"I was beginning to think that you had decided to spend
the night," he remarked.
Vicki pulled her shirt on and buttoned it, but had to
brace herself against Jameson's desk in order to pull
her jeans over her trembling legs. Assuming her
shakiness resulted from the final frenzied spanking
he'd administered, Jameson said "I trust you've learned
now not to disobey me, and that you won't need any
further reminders."
She assured him that she had learned. "Good," he said.
"I will see you, then, at four o'clock tomorrow."
Vicki nodded her agreement and left the office to make
her way through the half-darkened store.
Wednesday
---------
At five minutes before four the next afternoon, Vicki
found herself knocking for the second time on the door
of Jameson's office. Obeying the muffled call for her
to come in, Vicki slipped into the office and closed
the door behind her.
Jameson was seated at his desk, poring over a stack of
printed forms. He glanced up when he heard the door
click shut. "Ah, Miss Wilkins," he said, "I'm glad to
see you're so prompt.
We'll go downstairs as soon as I finish these, so you
may as well get ready."
Vicki kicked off her sandals and unbuttoned her
sundress and pulled it over her head. Wearing only the
emerald green bikini that had gotten her into this
mess, she stood uncertainly for a moment and then sat
down in one of the shabby chairs facing Jameson's desk.
The chair was covered in a coarsely woven material that
felt scratchy wherever it touched Vicki's skin -- and
given the skimpy size of the bikini, that included a
considerable proportion of Vicki's bottom. Her rear was
still a little achy and tender this afternoon, but
she'd been able to sit through her classes without
squirming too obviously, she thought. She'd even
managed to sit at the table and chatter through dinner
last night, as though she had no concerns beyond those
of any other graduating senior.
Vicki wondered how today's punishment would be
administered and what it would feel like. Vicki had no
doubt that this afternoon's spanking would hurt, but
she hoped it wouldn't be as much worse than yesterday's
as that had been worse than the day before. The first
day would have been a hand spanking, if she hadn't
refused to strip all the way. The second day was that
horrible paddling.
She still couldn't understand why it had hurt so much
more yesterday than it had the day before; with the way
Jameson had pulled the sides of the bikini bottom into
the middle of her behind, she'd been almost as bare the
first day as the second. And unlike the first day's
paddling, which had left no marks on her skin at all,
last night and even this morning the skin of her bottom
had been mottled with dozens and dozens of reddish
dots, almost as though she really had been stung by
swarm after swarm of insects, just the way it had felt
while Jameson was using the paddle on her.
Thinking about her mottled bottom reminded Vicki of how
it had looked in the mirror the night before. Excusing
herself after dinner, she had gone to her room,
ostensibly to study, but she'd been careful to lock her
door. She had dragged her desk chair a few feet away
from her full-length mirror, and, placing her pillow
over the back of the chair to pad it, she had bent over
the back of the chair, her bottom toward the mirror and
her legs spread. It had been awkward, but she had
managed to get a pretty good idea of how she had looked
to Jameson in the afternoon.
Her rear had still been pretty red then, and she had
stroked and squeezed the widely spread cheeks with both
hands. Her fingers had parted the silky tangle of hair
between her thighs until she could see her secret place
clearly. She wished she knew what to call that place,
but the only words she'd learned, like "vagina",
"labia", "clitoris", and so forth, sounded more like a
sex-ed book than like the parts of her body she'd
explored last night.
She had overheard bits of giggling conversations among
other girls who used other terms that Vicki thought
probably referred to their secret places, but she
wasn't positive -- and she would rather make do with
the textbook words than find out later that she had
misunderstood what the other girls had been talking
about.
The fingers of one stroking hand had crept down to
spread her labia, which were damp and slippery inside.
The slipperiness seemed to suck first one of her
fingers and then two deep into her vagina, and within
seconds Vicki had found herself first squirming and
then writhing frantically as she bent over the chair.
She had told herself to stop, or at least to go lie on
her bed, but her fingers and her hips were no longer
controlled by her mind. Even when the pillow slid off
onto the floor and the top of the chair back dug
painfully into her stomach, Vicki had been unable to
stop her gyrations until violent orgasm had surged
through her, leaving her dangling weakly over the
chair.
"All right, Miss Wilkins, let's go." Vicki jumped as
Jameson's voice interrupted her reverie. Blushing, she
got to her feet and tugged at the bikini bottom, which
seemed to be stretched uncomfortably through her
crotch. Jameson opened the back door of his office and
led her down the chilly concrete stairway. He opened
the door of the security room and stood to one side to
let her enter first, then closed the door and flipped
the switch on the doorframe.
Without waiting for instructions, Vicki stripped off
the bikini, tossed it onto a chair and turned to face
Jameson. He marveled at how much she had changed in two
days. Monday she had been tearful, pleading, appalled
by the thought of being nude in front of him. Now she
had stripped without being told to, and stood facing
him, feet comfortably apart, her arms crossed not to
conceal her tits but to support and display them. He
hoped that her apparent lack of fear didn't mean that
she was no longer afraid of his filing charges against
her, because with that fear would go both his leverage
and his safety.
"I trust," Jameson addressed her sternly, "that you
remember the lesson in obedience you received
yesterday, and that you won't force me to repeat it."
He stared hard at her, hoping to see evidence that her
attitude wasn't as confident as it seemed, and was
elated to see her body stiffen as she remembered that
final fierce paddling the day before.
"Oh, no," the girl stammered, "I mean, yes, I remember,
and no, I don't want to be spanked like that again, not
ever." Despite the girl's stance, there was a tremor in
her voice, and she shivered as her skin erupted in
goosebumps.
"Good," Jameson nodded. "Well, then, today I don't want
to have to touch you."
"You mean you won't, I can, you're not going to spank
me?"
There was eager hope in the voice, but Jameson thought
he detected just a trace of disappointment in the
girl's eyes.
"I mean just what I said -- I'm not planning to lay a
hand on you. You will stay here, however, and I am
certain that you will be very much aware that I am here
also," Jameson responded. "Come over to the desk. Stand
against the front, facing the chair."
The girl complied quickly, even spreading her feet wide
apart so that he didn't need to force her to do that.
"You are to stay in that position until I tell you to
move. You may rest your arms on the top of the desk if
you wish, but you are not to move your legs. Is that
clear?" he demanded.
She nodded and leaned forward until her forearms rested
on the glass desk top. The position thrust her ass back
from the edge of desk provocatively, and it was all
Jameson could do to keep from drooling. He walked
around to the back side of the desk and stooped to open
one of the lower drawers, from which he drew a leather
strap about 30 inches long and three inches wide.
He had looked long and hard before he had found it in
an antique store. It was a razor strap, the kind that
once had hung from every barber's chair; they were used
to hone the edge of a straight razor, although many of
them found other uses as well, as Jameson knew from his
boyhood and Miss Victoria Wilkins was about to learn.
Although the leather had been abraded and thinned by
tens of thousands of razor strokes, it remained heavy
and exceptionally supple.
"You have learned what wood can feel like, Miss
Wilkins," Jameson told her as he straightened up and
kicked the drawer shut. "Today you will learn about the
feel of leather."
She turned her head to follow the strap as he walked
around the desk and took a position behind and to the
left of her waiting ass. He was pleased to see the
mottled appearance of the previously unblemished skin;
yesterday's paddling hadn't left any major bruises, but
each hole in the face of the paddle had left its own
mark each of the dozens of times the paddle had touched
her.
He noticed that her upper thighs were marked, too, but
his eyes were drawn inexorably to the tight young pussy
they framed. Despite the chill that had shaken her a
few minutes earlier, her snatch was damp, either with
sweat or with something else, and Jameson again felt
the all-but-irresistible urge to run his tongue over
those burgundy surfaces.
The girl was still looking over her shoulder as he
raised the strap. Her ass-cheeks clenched in
anticipation, squeezing the lips of her cunt together
at the same time. "Please," she whimpered, "don't spank
me as hard as yesterday."
"I assure you, Miss Wilkins, that this won't be like
yesterday," Jameson responded as he swung the strap. He
was aiming for the base of her left cheek, but the
strap landed two or three inches higher. The force of
the leather impacting on the girl's bare ass flung her
forward against the edge of the desk, and she cried out
with a mixture of pain and surprise. The knotted
muscles in her buttocks relaxed as she rocked back from
the desk, and Jameson lifted the strap to swing it
again.
Vicki had watched Jameson pick up the strap and step
behind her with both curiosity and relief. She could
see that the leather was thick and heavy, but she could
also tell by the way it dangled from his hand that it
was very soft. She was sure that it would hurt less
than the paddle, probably even less than a hand
spanking.
Even so, when he started to swing the strap toward her
she had felt her rump tighten up, as though hard
muscles could somehow shield her exposed bottom from
the leather. It hadn't done any good -- the hissing
strap burned her behind, and its weight and speed drove
her forward against the square edge of the glass desk
top.
Before she really had time to think about how much the
leather hurt compared to the paddle, the strap smacked
into her again, this time on the right side of her
bottom. She cried out again, her eyes beginning to fill
with tears.
Unlike the paddle, which had burned like fire the
instant it struck, the leather strap only stung a
little bit at first -- but the sting seemed to echo
around inside Vicki's tush, growing stronger and
stronger as it resonated. She was only beginning to
feel the full effects of the first lash when the strap
bit into her for the third time.
"AIEEE!" Vicki wailed. Jameson had swung the strap
upward, catching her just below the fullest part of her
left cheek, and Vicki could feel the whole mass of her
left buttock lift and then fall back as the hissing
leather coursed over it. The next stroke came straight
down on the upper surface of the same cheek, and her
knee buckled as she howled with pain. Another upward
swing of the strap brought her back to her toes.
Tears streaked Vicki's face and dripped from her chin
to splash on the glass desk top as the scourging
continued. She wanted desperately to obey Jameson's
command that she stay in the same position, to avoid
making him angry again, but each lash seemed to magnify
the hurt of each of the previous ones as well as adding
its own. Finally, Vicki could stand it no longer, and
let herself be driven to the side by a horizontal
stroke of the razor strap.
"I didn't tell you to move, Miss Wilkins," Jameson
thundered.
"I know, I'm sorry," Vicki cried. "I just can't help
it, it just hurts too much! Please, I beg you, just
spank me with your hand."
"We've already discussed the rules, Miss Wilkins. If
you don't have enough self-discipline to do as I tell
you, then I'll have to restrain you." Jameson dropped
the strap onto the surface of the desk and walked
around it. He rummaged in the drawer from which he'd
taken the razor strap and emerged with several short
strips of leather. They had metal buckles and looked,
Vicki thought, like extra-wide dog collars.
"Get back where you were," Jameson ordered curtly.
Vicki slunk back to the middle of the front edge of the
desk. Jameson seized her right ankle roughly and jerked
it sideways until her foot slammed into one of the
short legs that supported the front of the desk, then
whipped one of the dog collars around her ankle and the
desk leg and buckled it tightly. He repeated the
process with her left ankle, then stood up, walked to
the back of the desk pulled the chair out and sat down.
Vicki kept her eyes downcast. She was afraid to look at
him. She wondered why he wanted to rest, but she was
sure that he was going to do something awful to her for
disobeying again, and now she couldn't run away to stop
the pain, even for a few seconds -- although maybe that
was just as well, she thought. At least she wouldn't be
able to do anything to make him angrier.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Jameson jerked her
left arm toward him, bending her forward across the
desk. Vicki flinched as her left nipple touched the
cold glass surface of the desk, but he held her hand
tightly while he buckled another of the leather straps
around her forearm. He must have run the strap through
some kind of ring on the back edge of the desk, because
her arm was now immobilized. Just as quickly she found
her right arm fastened tightly, separated from the left
by a couple of feet.
The position was extremely uncomfortable. The front
edge of the desk top bit deeply into the fronts of
Vicki's thighs, just below her crotch, and both arms
were forced just as painfully against the back edge.
Her breasts just grazed the top of the desk, but her
nipples had hardened and elongated so much from
touching the cold glass that no matter how she
squirmed, she was unable to draw her body up enough to
avoid the contact.
"I'm sure you wish now that you had stayed in position,
Miss Wilkins," Jameson remarked as he stood up, "and
you'll wish it even more before we're through today.
But I'll help you keep your mind off the little
discomforts you're feeling now." He lifted the razor
strap from the desk and walked behind her.
Vicki felt more terrified than she had at any time
since she had first been taken to Jameson's office.
With all of the spankings she'd had up till now, she'd
at least been able to see him, or feel when he lifted
his arm. But now all she could do was look down at the
desk, knowing that Jameson was somewhere behind her,
not touching her, but about to inflict enormous pain on
her helpless bottom.
Jameson wasn't surprised that the girl had to be
restrained. He doubted that he could have held still,
when he was her age, for the kind of strapping she was
getting -- or could now, for that matter. Not that he'd
had any recent experience. The last time he'd had a
real licking with a razor strap was probably when he
was about 13, but he doubted that it felt much
different at any age. The leather was really deceptive;
it seemed soft and harmless, but with the right kind of
muscle behind it, the strap could be about as painful
as anything. Except a cane, of course -- but that was
for tomorrow.
He surveyed his trembling target. The girl's legs
weren't spread quite as wide as he would have liked,
but there was nothing but the inner legs of the desk to
which he could have tied her ankles, and he could see a
small rectangle of the desk framed by her thighs and
her tantalizing little cunt. The girl would have been
more comfortable if her waist and the desk top had been
at the same height, but he doubted that she would
notice her stiff back after another few minutes. She
wouldn't be able to move much forward or backward or up
and down, but she had enough slack for some sideways
movement, and Jameson guessed there would be plenty of
that as soon as she felt the strap again.
The luscious ass-cheeks were already marked with some
wide pink stripes from the initial 15 or 18 lashes, as
though a painter had begun outlining a picture on
canvas. Now it was time to begin filling in the blank
spots. Jameson grinned at the analogy as he selected an
unmarked area on the right cheek and raised the razor
strap.
His aim was good. The strap landed high on the outer
surface of the girl's right ass-cheek. She gave a sharp
cry of pain and swung her hips hard to the left in a
vain effort to dodge the force of the heavy leather.
Jameson gave her a backhanded swat that cut across the
middle of both cheeks, provoking another scream and a
swing of hips back to the right.
Jameson continued thrashing the helpless buttocks,
changing the direction and rhythm of his swings at
random. After a series of downward diagonal slashes,
alternating left and right, that had the girl howling
and begging, he stopped for several seconds, watching
her hips twitch and jump within the limits of her bonds
as she tried to anticipate where the strap would bite
into her next, and then launched a new series of
horizontal and upward strokes. By the time the strap
had slapped down 25 or 30 times the girl was sobbing
uncontrollably, crying out only at every third or
fourth lash, and Jameson decided it was time to give
her a rest.
"Five minutes," he told her, tossing the strap onto the
top of the desk beside her. The girl gave a long,
shuddering groan.
"Please," she implored, "no more. I've learned my
lesson. Even without the first spanking, I would never
have taken anything again. You just keep hurting me
more and more, for no reason."
Jameson didn't respond, and Vicki knew he wasn't about
to change his mind. In fact this spanking wasn't as bad
as the one yesterday had been, but she hoped that if he
thought she found this even worse, he might not whip
her too much more.
The strap did hurt, of course -- it hurt a lot! But it
was nowhere near as bad as that awful paddle; if she
had to choose between ten spanks with the paddle and
twenty with the strap, she'd choose the strap in an
instant. Besides, when he wasn't actually using it,
like now, the memory of the way the strap kind of
curled around her bottom made her wish she could touch
her secret place the way she had after the spanking
ended yesterday.
The thought reminded her of the way her secret place
had looked in the mirror last night, and then of the
view Jameson must have of it now, and a sudden thought
alarmed her. Thank goodness he hadn't hit her there
with the leather strap -- that would have to hurt
something awful! Vicki wished she could stand up
straight, or close her legs, or do something to protect
that part of her body. Suppose he let the strap hit her
there, even by accident! She began to struggle against
her bonds with all her strength.
"Getting restless for some more, are you, Miss
Wilkins?" Jameson asked mockingly. He lifted the thick
strap from the desk.
"Oh, no, please, no more," Vicki entreated. She
clenched the muscles in her bottom as tightly as she
could, trying unsuccessfully to protect the most
sensitive part of her body from the blow she knew was
coming. She heard the hissing of the leather a split
second before she felt it. To her dismay, the strap cut
across the very tops of her thighs, barely touching the
lower edge of her bottom, only millimeters from the
area she was trying to shield.
"NO!" she shrieked. "Don't spank me down there,
please." The strap snapped across the inside of her
left thigh, midway between crotch and knee, and then
again, an inch higher on the inner surface of her right
thigh. Vicki screamed and twisted frantically in the
restraints, finally standing on her toes as the lashes
crept inexorably higher.
Just as Vicki was concluding that the next stroke would
to prove her worst fears accurate, and hoping that she
would faint quickly from the pain, Jameson decided that
he had tormented her enough and lashed her instead
across the fullest part of the left side of her bottom.
He repeated the same stroke several times, and Vicki
cried out with each, but her cries reflected relief
more than pain.
Vicki continued rolling and swinging her hips, managing
occasionally to avoid at least part of the force of the
prolonged strapping. Her cries were real, but so was
her sense of reprieve now that Jameson was
concentrating the lashes on her behind. She could even
make herself think about going home and reliving
today's spanking in the privacy of her room.
Finally Jameson stopped and dropped the strap beside
her on the desk. This spanking had gone on at least as
long as the previous days', and Vicki waited for him to
begin unbuckling the dog-collar straps to let her go.
She was startled by his voice.
"We would be through for the day, Miss Wilkins, if you
had not forced me to restrain you. As it is, however,
we will take a short break and then I will have to give
you another lesson in obedience."
Remembering how terribly that final flurry of spanks
had hurt the day before, Vicki began to plead. "You
might as well relax and save your breath, Miss
Wilkins," Jameson interrupted her.
Vicki fell silent, trying to focus on the pain in her
wrists and her lower back as a distraction from the
throbbing in her bottom, which she knew would get a lot
more intense before she could leave. At least the glass
was no longer cold where her breasts touched it; her
body heat had long since eliminated that discomfort.
She tensed as she heard the razor strap slide across
the desk. Much as she wished this spanking were finally
over, it hadn't been as bad as yesterday's, and no
matter what Jameson did now, it couldn't possibly be as
painful as when he'd bent her over his leg and used the
paddle on her. Vicki closed her eyes and tried to force
herself to relax.
The strap swung straight upward, raking across the
tender flesh between the halves of her bottom. Vicki
howled with pain and renewed terror. Lunging from side
to side she tried to make the lashes land on the
muscular facets of her bottom, but Jameson unerringly
caught the inner face of first one cheek and then the
other, spreading them wide apart and raising new
crimson stripes with stroke after stroke, each one
slightly lower than the last.
Vicki yelled at the top of her lungs for Jameson to
stop, but she felt a sickening certainty that this time
he would not relent -- that the end of the strap would
reach lower and lower until it touched her labia, and
lower yet until it curled completely around her secret
place. Still she struggled and writhed, until her
wrists and the fronts of her thighs were raw from
rubbing against the edge of desk top and her nipples
had left long streaks of sweat on the glass top of the
desk.
When it finally came Vicki felt almost numb, as though
she'd been struck by a small bolt of lightning. The
strap flew upward, searing the insides of her thighs
before it cupped her secret place. She could feel the
very tip of the leather curl against her pubic bone.
She thought it hurt, probably hurt unimaginably, but it
was hard to tell because of the tingling surge of
electricity that rushed through her body.
The strap began teasing her, slapping fiercely at the
sensitive areas between the cheeks of her bottom and
then returning, without warning but with equal
severity, to fling itself against the outer folds of
her secret place. Her brain reeling with the confusion
of signals her nerves were sending, Vicki could manage
no more than a strangled gasp of a cry at each stroke.
Jameson gave her a final lash that covered an area as
wide as the strap from mid-thigh to coccyx, and then
let the strap dangle in front of him. He didn't know
exactly what to make of the last few minutes; the girl
had seemed earlier to be absolutely terrified that he
might whip her pussy, but when he'd laid the strap on
her all her fuses seemed to blow at once. Either she'd
liked it, which seemed hard to imagine, or else he'd
really hurt her.
That thought troubled him, though not because he was
concerned about the girl's pain -- she had that coming.
Jameson was worried first that she might decide to tell
someone, which could mean a great deal of trouble for
him, and second that she might not show up for the
remaining sessions, which would be a major
disappointment. Maybe he'd better look at the
videotapes as soon as she left, and see if he could
tell any more about what had happened.
Jameson walked around to the back of the desk, opened
the drawer and tossed the razor strap inside. Then he
unbuckled first one of the girl's arms and then the
other. She groaned and began massaging her wrists. Good
-- that didn't seem like the response of someone who'd
really been driven round the bend. He stood up and went
to release the ankle straps.
He had just unbuckled the second strap when the girl
stretched her legs wide apart, slid her feet back and
flattened her torso on the desk top with a groan. From
his kneeling position, Jameson found himself looking
past her red-streaked thighs to her spread-lipped
pussy. He felt himself hardening, and slipped a hand
into his pocket to adjust the position of his cock as
he got awkwardly to his feet.
"You can't stay here today," he told her gruffly. "I
have to leave the store for a while, and this room must
be locked."
Vicki slid backward off the desk top with a groan. She
had hoped to spend a few minutes alone in the security
room, the way she had yesterday, but things would have
to wait until she got home. She eased the lower part of
the bikini over her aching bottom, slipped into the
top, and followed Jameson up the drafty stairs to his
office.
Jameson watched her put on her street clothes over the
sweat-stained bikini. "I'll see you at four tomorrow,
Miss Wilkins."
Vicki nodded and left his office, her feelings still
confused. She ached all over, her joints from the
awkward position in which she'd been tied, her poor
bottom from the spanking she'd received, and her secret
place from both the strapping and from the tingling
shocks that had convulsed her. She knew that she would
spend a long time this evening reviewing today's
session in her mind.
Thursday
--------
When Vicki arrived at Jameson's office she found an
envelope, addressed to "Miss Victoria Wilkins", taped
to the outside of his door. She ripped it open with a
pounding heart. It must mean that Jameson wasn't there,
so maybe she wouldn't get her spanking today! She found
herself both pleased and a little disappointed by the
thought; she'd been psyching herself up all day and
didn't want to have to do that again. Besides, tomorrow
was supposed to be the last day, and if Jameson didn't
spank her today he might want to give her a double
session tomorrow. Vicki didn't see how she could stand
that!
With shaking hands she unfolded the handwritten note
and read it:
"Miss Wilkins: I have had to leave the store for a few
minutes but will be with you shortly. You know the
routine. Go into my office and lock the door behind
you. Leave your clothing there and then wait for me in
the security room."
"F.J."
Vicki stuffed the note and its envelope into the pocket
of her chinos and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked,
and she entered the empty office, shut the door and
twisted the deadbolt.
She pulled the tail of her blouse out of the waistband
of her slacks, then unbuttoned it and dropped it on one
of Jameson's chairs. She stepped out of her loafers,
unzipped her pants, and quickly added them and her
socks to the pile on the chair.
She wondered if Jameson expected her to take the bikini
off here too. The note had said "clothing", but Vicki
decided that meant just her outer clothes. It would be
embarrassing enough to meet someone in the stairwell
dressed only in her swimsuit; she couldn't take a
chance on running into someone stark naked!
Closing the back door of Jameson's office quietly
behind her, Vicki made her way down the cold cement
steps. The door into the security room had been propped
open with a rubber doorstop, and she peered quickly
into the room to be sure it was empty. Vicki picked up
the doorstop and let the door fall shut behind her. She
started to flip the switch on the doorframe as Jameson
had done, but it was already on -- so either the door
was locked now or else the switch wasn't a lock.
Vicki stripped off the green bikini and crossed the
room to sit on the sofa. Her tush ached some whenever
she sat on it, but it was a deep kind of ache, not near
the surface, and it didn't really bother her. She gazed
across the room at the glass topped desk, and
immediately pictured herself, as she had the night
before, bent awkwardly over it. She saw her bare bottom
and the lips of her secret place, and could feel the
weight of the leather strap as she drew it back and
swung it toward the waiting cheeks of her own behind.
She felt the muscles in her tush bunch under her as she
imagined the heavy strap slapping hard against her
skin. Just as it had in her room the night before, her
hand slipped unconsciously to her crotch, and Vicki
moaned as her fingers slipped between her labia and
touched the gooey warmth of her secret place.
Jameson, watching the videotape monitors in next room,
began to breath raggedly as the girl started
masturbating. It was exactly what he'd guessed would
happen, after watching the tapes from the three
previous sessions last night and seeing how she'd spent
her time alone in the security room after Tuesday's
paddling, but he still found the scene almost
unbearably stimulating.
The girl might do a lot of screaming and begging while
he was working her ass over, but the sessions really
seemed to turn her on. Thank god he'd remembered to
turn on the video recorders before she'd come down to
the security room! He waited until the girl was
writhing and bucking on the sofa, her fingers plunging
rapidly in and out of her gash, before slipping into
the hallway and walking into the security room.
He stopped abruptly and stared at the girl in pretended
shock and amazement. It took her a second to register
the fact that she was no longer alone, and then she
jerked her fingers out of her cunt and sat motionless.
Her entire body turned a shade of scarlet he wouldn't
have imagined possible, so dark he could barely
distinguish her wine-colored nipples and areolas from
the surrounding skin of her boobs.
"Well, Miss Wilkins," Jameson said with mock anger,
"you really had me fooled. I had thought you were being
punished, but now I see you've really been enjoying our
little sessions.
Obviously you need something a lot more severe than
what you've been getting up till now."
"Oh, no, Mr. Jameson," Vicki said with horror. "I
haven't enjoyed the spankings at all, they hurt
terribly. It's just that, well, I'm not used to sitting
around naked, and I started thinking about something
else. I know I shouldn't have been, uh, doing what I
was, but please don't do anything that hurts more." She
burst into tears.
"I don't know whether to believe you or not," Jameson
responded, "but I'm quite sure you won't feel like
playing with yourself when I'm finished with you
today." He opened the desk drawer and removed the
restraining straps he'd used the day before. Clutching
those in one hand, he walked over to the sofa and
seized the sobbing girl by the arm. He pulled her to
her feet dragged her over to the desk and pushed her
down on top of it.
"Get on the desk and lie face down," he ordered. The
girl climbed onto the desk and started lie lengthwise
atop the glass surface, then stopped with a gasp.
"It's too cold!" she exclaimed, still on her hands and
knees.
"You'll be quite warm in a minute, Miss Wilkins,"
Jameson assured her, seizing her arms and pulling them
out from under her. She protested loudly as the full
length of her body contacted the glass desk top, but he
held her wrists firmly as he passed one of the
restraining straps through a ring attached to one
corner of the desk and buckled it tightly around her
forearm. He repeated the same steps with the other arm
at the other corner of the desk.
"Please," she implored him, "I'll hold still today. Let
my arms go, and I'll just lie here."
"I don't think that's very likely, Miss Wilkins,"
Jameson commented grimly. Sobbing again, the girl tried
to get her knees under her as he moved to the other end
of the desk, but Jameson caught her ankle with one hand
and quickly strapped it to a corner of the desk. When
he finished buckling the fourth strap, the weeping girl
lay spread-eagled, face down on the desk, essentially
unable to move. The solid, creamy hillocks of her ass,
barely tinged with pink, jutted upward, inviting his
attention, and Jameson intended to give it in full.
He walked behind the desk and pulled the wide center
drawer out as far as he could. Wedged into it
diagonally, with a slight bow to accommodate its
length, was a birch cane -- another trophy from days
spent in antique shops. Jameson had heard that they
were still used sometimes in British schools, and no
doubt there were some that maintained firm discipline
in a few homes in this country, but the only one with
which he had had "first hand" experience had long ago
disappeared.
Even now, the memory of how that one had seared his ass
and the backs of his legs made him wince. Victoria
Wilkins was about to have an experience that, like the
strapping he'd given her yesterday, very few -- too few
-- of her generation had ever had. Jameson was willing
to bet that if she decided to jack off tonight, or
tomorrow, she wouldn't do it sitting down, or lying on
her back either.
He flexed the cane and lifted it out of the drawer,
then walked around to the end of the desk nearest the
girl's head.
"Today, Miss Wilkins," he informed her, "your
punishment will be administered with this cane." He
showed it to her, bending it and then whipping it
sharply downward to let her hear the "whirr" as it
sliced through the air. Then he moved to the front of
the desk and rested the cane across the twin summits of
her ass-cheeks for several seconds, watching the
muscles twitch as goosebumps spread across the skin.
Then he raised cane to roughly the height of his head
and brought it down sharply.
Vicki had suspected that she was in serious trouble
from the instant she had realized that Jameson had
walked into the room without her hearing him. Her fears
had been confirmed when he had insisted on strapping
her to the desk without even waiting to see whether she
would hold still. She had inferred then that whatever
kind of punishment he had in mind was going to be much
worse than she'd experienced in the three previous
days.
What on earth could have possessed her to start
fingering her secret place when she had known that
Jameson would arrive within a matter of minutes? She
certainly should have known, from her experiences in
her bedroom the last three nights that once she got
started with that she would be totally oblivious to
anything else around her. Now she was practically glued
to the icy glass top of his desk, her breasts squashed
flat as pancakes by the weight of her body, unable to
move to relieve even part of the pain. And any second
now, Jameson was going to lift that cane off her rump
and bring it whistling back down.
Maybe it would have happened anyway -- Jameson had
hinted that each day's spanking would be worse than the
last -- but why had she given him such a clear reason
to believe that she had been enjoying his punishments?
The fact was, of course, that she didn't enjoy the
spankings at all while they were happening, and what
excited her most when she thought about them afterward
was the image of giving a spanking, not getting one.
The only good thing was that unless he kept it up for a
really long time, that cane couldn't hurt all that
much. It was too light to bruise her bottom like the
paddle or the leather strap, and so small it could only
touch a tiny area at a time.
Vicki's thoughts were interrupted by a heart-rending
shriek, and it took her several fractions of a second
to realize that it had come from her. In the same
instant her brain was penetrated by a blinding flash of
pain from her bottom. It felt as though her lower body,
from the middle of her rear down, had been sliced off
by a sword!
She started to pull against the straps that held her
ankles, but before she could make her muscles obey her
thoughts she heard the cane whistle again and felt
another streak of pain across her rear. This time the
sensation of pain came before the scream, but the sound
was just as involuntary as her first shriek had been.
Vicki fought to catch her breath, to form some word of
plea or protest to accompany her next scream, but each
time the cane cut into her backside another wordless
howl tore itself from her lungs. She felt like one of
the rubber dolls she'd had as a child, with a little
metal button that made a crying sound whenever you
squeezed it, and wondered hysterically if there were
buttons hidden in her buttocks that emitted a scream
whenever the cane touched them.
She didn't really believe that, of course; the screams
were her body's involuntary reaction to the most
horrendous pain she'd ever experienced. The sensations
evoked by each stroke of the cane were like the
distilled essence of pain, clear and crystalline, in
contrast to the crude, opaque pain caused by her
previous spankings. Without conscious effort on her
part, her body bucked and jerked, alternately slamming
her knees, her sternum, her hipbones and her frontal
pubic bone against the unyielding surface of the desk -
- all of which caused new aches and bruises but did
nothing to interfere with the cane's unobstructed
access to every square inch of her bottom.
Vicki felt on the verge of suffocating when Jameson
finally laid the cane down on the desk top between her
knees. She lay gasping, the muscles in her legs and her
buttocks continuing to spasm, for nearly a minute
before she was able to cry. "Oh, god, stop, please
stop," she sobbed. "You're cutting me to ribbons! I
can't stand any more, I beg you."
Jameson grinned. "I don't think you have much choice in
the matter, Miss Wilkins. You're going to stay right
where you are until I decide that you've been punished
enough for today."
"Then please, use the strap, or the paddle -- anything
but that cane," Vicki entreated him. "I don't care if
you spank me twice as many times, just so you don't use
the cane on me any more."
"I'm afraid that's not possible, Miss Wilkins," Jameson
replied firmly. I'm glad to know you're finding this
painful; perhaps you'll keep this experience in mind
the next time you think about stealing something." He
picked up the cane and walked around to the end of the
desk to which her feet had been anchored.
Jameson gazed up the girl's long legs to her pussy and
then to her quivering ass-cheeks. The once-creamy skin
was marked with scarlet welts, many of which had
swollen well above the surface of her ass. The welts
were at slightly different angles but all of them were
more or less horizontal. By changing positions he could
leave her with a nice checkerboard pattern.
He could also give one of the video cameras an
unobstructed side view of her writhing, bucking body
(although the one he'd mounted directly overhead this
morning was bound to be getting some terrific footage),
and give himself a good view of her beaver at the same
time.
He rested the cane in the middle of her right ass-
cheek. The girl immediately renewed her tearful
pleading, which he ignored, and her right buttock went
rigid and her thigh muscles bulged as she pulled
helplessly against her bonds. He raised the cane high
and brought it whistling down hard. He let the cane
drift several inches sideways as it descended, and it
created a momentary but deep furrow in the relaxed left
cheek of her ass. The girl let out another of her
unearthly screeches and rolled her hips sideways by the
inch or so she was able to move.
The resilient muscle of her ass bounced the cane back
into the air, and Jameson brought it down equally hard
on the other cheek, provoking another shriek and
leaving another vertical welt. This was a lot less work
than the paddle or the razor strap, Jameson reflected,
especially when you considered how much more dramatic
the response was. Maybe he should have used the cane
from the beginning. On the other hand, if he'd used the
cane the first day the girl would probably never have
come back, so he really had been wise to bring her
along gradually.
Jameson found the girl's shrieks almost deafening. He'd
planned to give her a second rest break and then a
third session with the cane, but now he was impatient
to be through with her.
He increased the tempo of his strokes, leaving furrow
after furrow to be replaced instantly with rising
welts, until the entire surface of her convulsing ass
was a tight grid-work of blood-red stripes and her
cries had merged into a continuous scream, interrupted
only by gasps for breath.
He swung the cane a last time, then strode behind the
desk, flexing the cane to wedge it back in the drawer.
The girl lay sobbing and moaning, not even moving as he
unfastened each of her bonds in turn. Jameson left her
atop the desk, lit a cigarette and crossed the room to
sit on the sofa until her shuddering sobs had ceased.
Then he got to his feet. "You can obviously do what you
want with your own time, Miss Wilkins," he remarked,
"but if you need something to keep your hands busy
tonight, I might suggest that you put some ointment on
your ass instead of playing with your pussy." He
started toward the door of the security room, then
stopped and turned toward her. "I'll be in my office
for a couple of hours, so you can take your time."
Dimly Vicki heard the door close as Jameson left. She
lay motionless for another few minutes, then bent her
elbows and lifted herself until the weight of her upper
body rested on her forearms. She didn't even try to
move her legs; she was sure she was paralyzed from the
waist down. Except that if she was paralyzed, then she
shouldn't be able to feel anything, and the sensations
emanating from her bottom sure didn't feel like nothing
-- they felt like the most burning, cutting kind of
pain she'd ever known.
Supporting herself on one arm, Vicki reached back and
ran a hand over first one buttock and then the other.
Both were blazing hot to her touch and covered with
ridges. She looked backward over her shoulder and
gasped when she saw the maze of dark welts that criss-
crossed her buns. The sight brought fresh tears to her
eyes, and she collapsed with a groan onto the desk top.
Why, oh why, had she ever let herself be tempted into
stealing the bikini? She hated even the thought of it
now. And how was she going to survive tomorrow? She
didn't see how she could tolerate being touched, let
alone spanked, and Jameson seemed determined to make
each day's spanking worse than the last.
Large tears splashed the desk top as Vicki slowly
pushed herself backward, the square edge of the glass
sheet gouging her knees, her thighs, the soft flesh
covering her pubic bone and then her stomach as she
slid off the desk. Finally she felt the carpet under
her feet and pushed into a standing position. She
walked slowly around the security room, her posterior
throbbing with every step.
She knew she should put the bikini back on and go get
her clothes from Jameson's office, but she dreaded the
thought of pulling the tight bottom of the swimsuit
over her bruised behind.
And once she got dressed, there would be nothing to do
but go out to her car and drive home, and she wasn't at
all sure she could force herself to sit down in the
car. As an experiment, she backed up against the edge
of the sofa and gingerly transferred her weight from
her legs to her rear.
It wasn't as bad as she had expected; the scratchy
fabric was unpleasant, but driving home would be
bearable. Sitting on the sofa reminded Vicki of the
shame she had felt when Jameson had walked in on her an
hour earlier, catching her with her fingers inside
her... Jameson had called it her "pussy", and that was
one of the words she'd heard whispered at school, so
maybe she should start thinking of it as her pussy
instead of just her "secret place." She also knew that
"ass" was another word for "bottom" or "tush," although
she was sure her parents wouldn't approve of her using
the term. Of course, her parents wouldn't approve of
her stealing from stores, either, so from now on, with
Jameson at least, she would think of him spanking her
ass and not her bottom.
Vicki found herself picturing how she must have looked
to Jameson, spread-eagled on the desk, with her ass
just waiting for each stroke of his cane, and before
she realized what was happening the fingers of her
right hand were probing the entrance to her... pussy. A
slight shift of posture sent another stab of pain
through her ass, though, and she jerked her hand away
angrily and got to her feet. What on earth was the
matter with her? Jameson could decide to come back for
some reason, and she'd find herself ass-up under the
cane again.
Still annoyed with herself, Vicki pulled the strapless
bikini top over her head, slid it down to cup her
breasts and adjusted the strap in back. Then she eased
herself carefully into the bottom of the suit and
climbed the empty stairwell to Jameson's office. He was
on the phone when Vicki slipped in through the back
door, and she struggled into her outer clothing without
a sound.
Jameson was off the telephone by the time she finished
dressing. "Tomorrow is your final day, Miss Wilkins,"
he reminded her. "I wouldn't want you to waste the
punishment you've already received by failing to show
up or coming in late."
"Oh, I'll be here," she assured him, "assuming I can
make it out of bed tomorrow."
"I'm sure you'll do just fine, Miss Wilkins," he
replied frostily.
Friday
------
Jameson was upset with himself. He had lost control
during yesterday's session with Vicki. He was not upset
because of the severity of the punishment he had
inflicted of her bare, unprotected ass and thighs.
Quite the contrary, in fact, was true. He was upset for
the reason that losing his patience caused him to
negate some of the enjoyment factor of the session. He
was remembering the events of the past four days and
came to the unmistakable conclusion that Miss Victoria
Wilkins was the finest piece of ass he had ever had the
pleasure of punishing. Not to mention the loveliest
pussy he had probably ever seen.
He pondered all this while watching one of the tapes
from yesterday's session and was getting upset again.
"DAMN!! I didn't set the rear camera up right!" In his
haste Thursday he didn't get the angle quite right and
therefore the view was not as good as it should have
been for a good look at her beautiful cunt.
'Well,' he determined right then, 'that this would NOT
happen today.' After all, if this was to be the last
time he would get a chance at this lovely female, he
was going to enjoy every second.
He glanced at his watch and noted he had an hour before
the appointed time and headed downstairs to check the
special preparations he had made for today's
punishment.
The Maintenance Chief was at the door when he arrived,
after a quick stop at domestics, "Hi Charley" he said.
"Oh, hi MR. Jameson... I couldn't get the desk inside.
You are the only one with a key to this room..."
"That's okay Charley, I'll open it up so we can get it
inside."
They moved the desk into the room and positioned it so
that the two identical desks were right against each
other so that if you where sitting at one, you would be
facing the person at the other. He thanked Charley and
followed him to the door locking it behind him.
He returned to the desks and pulled out the object he
had brought from the bag and placed it across the desk.
It was one of those hard-foam pillows. You know the
kind that are supposed to be so good for your neck. He
had chosen it for another reason, of course. He picked
this king-sized model for its firmness and size. It fit
perfectly. 'It would raise her lovely little ass to
just the right height,' he thought to himself and
managed a wry smile.
He then replaced the wrist and ankle straps with longer
ones. 'She is going to be spread as far as her legs can
get...'
His earlier dark mood was now completely gone as he
repositioned the camera's for optimum viewing angles.
He stood back and admired his work with satisfaction.
He was now ready for his little victim. Vicki was
dressing to leave for her appointment, or perhaps un-
dressing would be more appropriate, since she was
getting out of the clothes she had worn that day to put
on that very costly swimsuit. 'No sense in
overdressing' she mussed to herself, after all I won't
be wearing anything very long.'
She stopped to turn and check out her backside in the
full length mirror attached to the back of her door.
She looked over the marks left by yesterday's 'lesson'
as she now was referring to them and could not believe
how badly welted she was. She had put lotion on her
butt and thighs at least 20 times already and it still
looked like she had been whipped an hour ago, not
almost 24 hors ago. What she really couldn't believe is
that she was going back.
She thought about this as her hands were, almost as if
they had a mind of there own, gently stroking her ass,
legs and thighs. Also in her thoughts was the fact of
how incredibly aroused she was. After all, she had
played with herself at least 10 times since yesterdays
'lesson', and had brought herself to an unbelievable
number of orgasms (even for her) and yet she was still
horny.
"You little slut!!" she said to her own reflection in
the mirror and made one pass with her middle finger up
then down her already wet slit and considered laying
back down for another finger-humping session, but
thought better of it.
After all, it would not do at all to be late for her
last 'lesson'. 'Don't make it worse than it has to be
girl...' she thought to herself as she looked down at
her pussy to check the shave she had given herself in
the shower just before this.
Not that she had much hair to begin with, but now all
that was left was a narrow band directly above her
cunt. The lips and for an inch above were completely
bare. After the shower she rubbed a generous amount of
baby oil on her freshly naked mound, cumming several
times in the process.
'I look like a 13 year old' she thought as she finished
dressing. Well, maybe if he is busy staring and lusting
after my cunt, he won't beat me so bad today.
It was a good thought, but she didn't realize how
determined Jameson was becoming at this very moment and
what a very good view indeed he was about to have of
that lovely spot between her legs, or she would have
thought twice about the shave job.
She grabbed her bag and headed for the door with a
certain amount of excitement and dread.
Jameson was waiting for her with a look of impatience
as she arrived at the door to his office. "Well Miss
Wilkins, Almost 5 minutes late today. I guess you
aren't taking this as serious as I thought. This is
going to cost you a little extra for your tardiness!"
She just bit her lip and finally stammered out "I'm
sorry Mr. Jameson, but I had to do some chores around
the house and just couldn't get here sooner..."
Her lie was obvious and lame at best, but the only
thing she could think of at the time.
He had to force down the smile that he felt coming on
and replied, "Well, we will have to give you a little
lesson in promptness in addition to everything else...
won't we."
She couldn't even come up with a response, out loud, to
this, but to herself she said, 'FUCK, I'm really in for
it now...'
'How right you are,' would have been his response if
she had said it out loud.
"Okay, Miss Wilkins, time to finish your punishment.
Let's go." He led her down to the room and opened the
door. She walked in, immediately saw the double desks
in the center of the room and let out a small, but
audible gasp. Not so much at the two desks pushed
together, but at the huge oversized pillow lying across
them.
"What the hell is this!" she said out loud almost not
meaning to and regretting it as soon as it came out.
"Well, Vicki, it's a way for me to present your
backside and other area's, for the punishment which I
am about to give you." And a way for me to get the best
shot at your lovely pussy he thought to himself. It was
then that she noticed his hand on her shoulder, gently
squeezing and propelling her forward at the same time.
It was also then that she noticed the throbbing between
her legs and the moistness quickly building inside.
This was the first time he had touched her, or used her
first name, other than for the punishment itself, and
she was definitly getting aroused.
'Get a grip girl... This guy's just some jerk who gets
his jollys by beating young females,' she thought to
herself, but it didn't help, she was still getting wet.
It was then that a sudden BLEEEEEEPPPPP...BLEEEEEPPPPPP
went off and startled her out of her thoughts. It was
his cellular phone, which he answered with a curt
"Jameson" followed by a few mumbles and a "okay, I'll
be right there."
"Well Miss Wilkins, you will have to wait a little
longer. I have to see to a small matter, but don't
worry I'll only be gone about 15 minutes, so why don't
you get undressed and lay face down across the desk and
I'll be back." The call, of course, was pre-arranged so
he could go and watch her for a time before starting
the session. He wasn't disappointed.
After surveying the scene a moment longer, she quickly
undressed and slowly lay down on the desks. She placed
her hips directly on top of the hard, foam rubber
'pillow' and was actually quite surprised to find this
to be the most comfortable position she had been given
so far. She also knew her 'comfort' was to be short
lived.
After laying there for a minute she turned to see the
mirror directly behind her on the wall about 4 feet
away. Then she spread her legs to where she knew he
would most likely bind them and was shocked to see just
how exposed she was. Her pussy was so open by being
raised and spread that her now rock-hard clit was
actually protruding clearly from between her lips.
This only served to increase her arousal and she almost
thought she could see her sensitive clit throb
slightly. 'Just my imagination' she said to herself.
She then reached down under between the pillow and her
body to play with her hot, wet cunt.
She stroked her clit, rolling it around with 2 fingers
and it took only a few minutes until she came, long and
hard, leaving her panting into the desktop. Jameson, of
course was watching these activities with lustful
interest and fighting the obvious bulge which
threatened to punch a hole right through the front of
his pants. He forced himself back into control. He
wanted to enter the room just as the girl was cumming,
so that he would have an excuse to give her that
'extra' whipping right on that very spot that she was
so enjoying right now.
He had been thinking of this since the other day when
he had been whipping her with the strap and gave her
several strokes right between her legs and she actually
came back for more. He debated for a long time about
this and came to the conclusion that she either liked
it, or he had her so cowed that she would accept
anything he wanted to do. Besides, he said to himself,
I may never get this good an opportunity again. Hell,
if she was going to report him she would have done it
by now, right? Well anyway, he had made up his mind and
there was no going back now. How far he went would
depend on her reactions. Just as Vicki was finishing
her orgasm, Jameson opened the door and shut it with a
BANG!! "Well Miss Wilkins, it looks as if you have
learned nothing from these little sessions of ours!!"
Vicki literally jumped off the desktops, heart pounding
(both from her cumming and from the shock) and started
to stammer again, "I'm-m-m Sorrry Mister Jameson... I-I
j-just couldn't help it... I-I'm sorry..." is all she
could get out.
"Never mind, never mind that now Miss Wilkins, just get
back up on the desk so we can get started, I haven't
got all day."
Vicki then slowly got back up on the desktops, setting
herself squarely over the pillow. Jameson then tied her
hands, taking his time, enjoying the moment. He next
went down to tie her legs, making sure her hips were
right on the pillow and mildly surprised that they
were.
It was when he was tying her second ankle, her legs
spread about 5 feet wide from toe-to-toe, that he first
noticed her totally hairless pussy. He almost dropped
the ankle binding he was holding and just stared, and
stared.
Her hard pussy lips were spread apart revealing the
pink moistness inside. Her clit was protruding out from
under its little hood and was sticking out straight
from between those beautiful lips.
He was almost in shock and his cock was now so hard
inside his pants it actually hurt. He didn't care,
almost didn't even notice, until he though he heard, in
a small voice, "Mr. Jameson..." She of course knew
exactly what he was staring at and it was driving her
crazy, not to mention getting her even wetter, so she
just wanted this to get over with so she could get home
to relieve this incredible itching between her legs.
Her voice broke him out of his trance-like staring of
her bared cunt and finished tying her right leg, making
sure he gave one last push to the side, making her
grunt slightly. 'You'll be doing a lot more than
grunting in a minute missy...' he thought to himself.
He walked over to a table and pulled something long and
black out of a bag.
She knew what it was, of course. She had, after all
been riding many times and knew a riding crop when she
saw one, but she had never seen one quite like it. It
was longer than any she had seen.
It was, of course a very special one and the prize of
Jameson's collection. It had a core of very hard, not
too flexible fiberglass, wrapped tightly with a one
inch strip of black leather and tipped with a roughened
black rawhide end which was also longer than normal. He
had let it soak for several hours last night so it
would be extra stiff and hard.
It LOOKED dangerous and she was starting to get a
little scared. She was just then getting the idea, from
the look in his eyes, that she was in for the beating
of her life. She was getting more worried by the
minute.
"JUST START ALREADY' she was thinking, but he was
taking a last few moments to admire her.
The way her ass was sticking up above the desk almost a
foot. The way her legs were spread so far apart that
all the area of her inner thighs and pubic region where
completely exposed for his pleasure. Even how her
breasts were clearly visible from the way her body was
angled up from head to hips. Yes, she was lovely... and
she was his...
Jameson finally broke the silence. "Well, Vicki, this
is your last session with me... and it's going to be
the worst and most painful by FAR... I'm going to give
you 3 separate sessions today, each about 10 minutes
long, so I hope that after this day that you will think
twice about breaking the law... here we go.''' He had
been slowly working his way over to her left side as he
was talking and when he stopped...
THHHWWWAAAKKK... came the crop down across her bare
butt. Before, with some of the implements he had used,
there was a moment of nothing between the hit and the
pain. Not so here, the pain was immediate and
unbelievable. To make it worse, or as bad as it could
get, he pulled the weapon down and back towards him
sharply as soon as it made full contact. This meant
that not only did the business end of the crop slam
into her unprotected flesh, but he actually dragged it
back across her ass leaving a long welt about 5 inches
long and an inch wide from the crop end and a thinner,
but equally painful, welt all the rest of the way to
the other side.
She screamed. Hard, long and loud and before she even
got to take in a breath... 'THHHWWAACCKKKKK!' came the
next... and the next.
'THHWWWAAACCCKKK!' "AHHHHHIIIEEEE!
'THHHWWWAAACCCKKK!' "AHHHHHIIIIEEEEEEEE!"
'THHHWWWAAACCCKKK' "AHHHHHIIIIEEEEEEEE!"
So it went for the next 10 minutes and she just kept
screaming.... and he kept whipping. He kept this first
part of the whipping just on her ass. From the very
top, to the very bottom of the sensitive underside. He
alternated his strokes from side to side.
First the right...
Then the left...
The entire surface of her butt was the deepest red,
with fast forming purple swatches all over. He also
made sure made the crop end landed on the side of her
ass cheeks leaving welts from her hip on down and in
between her cheeks almost right to her butt-ole. This
was particularly painful in that sensitive area. It was
a very long 10 minutes for her and she kept screaming
even after he had stopped. Finally, he did though and
after a few minutes she stopped and tried to regain
control. Little did she know that he too was having
trouble controlling himself and, in fact, had to stop
himself fearing he was going too far. To actually cut
her would NOT be good and he stopped, backed away a
little to assess the damage.
Also to regain a little control.
She just lay there panting, finally catching her
breath. The pain was unbelievable, but she also knew
somehow that the worst was yet to come. She was right
about that, of course, and after a 5 minute break he
broke the silence by saying "Well Miss Wilkins, it
looks like I'm finally getting through to you...
Too bad it had to take the worst kind of beating to
make that happen... Of course, we haven't gotten to the
worst of it, yet..."
She was still a little in shock from the severity of
the whipping she had just received and came out with
"Please...Please, Mister Jameson don't beat me any
more...
I'll be good... I promise I'll be good...Please nooo
more..." "Now there, there my dear little Vicki. It
will all be over after just two more whippings... so
just lay there and relax while you can." Now he was
surveying the damaged and was quite pleased with it so
far. Now time to get on with the second part of the
cropping. "Okay, Miss Wilkins, rest time is over. "
"Now for the second part of your spanking I will be
concentrating on the backs of your legs and inner
thighs...I'll be moving from the right side of the
table to the left after 5 minutes to give both sides an
equal thrashing..."
"NOOO!! Mister Jameson... You CAN'T!!"
"Oh, on the contrary, I can, and here we go..."
With those words, he brought down the crop abruptly
down THHHWWWAAACCCKKK! right on her right inner thigh.
The end landed sharply about halfway between knee and
crotch and he noticed how the tip made a deep
indentation for a moment before rebounding back into
place. He once again pulled the instrument back sharply
instead of just letting it land-and-stay as he had at
other times. It seemed to have the desired effect for
she let out a blood curdling scream, "AAAAHHHHHHHEEE!"
The crop end left a wide, raised welt and dragging it
back caused the welt to stretch out for maximum effect.
THHHWWWAAACCCKKK! "AAAAHHHHHHHHHEE!!"
He was taking his time with this beating, not wanting
to miss enjoying a single moment of it. He kept
glancing up at her face as she was screaming and
crying, her tears now flowing freely leaving a pool of
them on the desk below. Mouth wide open with each
stroke of the crop.
THHHWWWAAACCCKKK! "AAAAHHHHHHHEEEE!!"
He was leaving a path of welts from mid-thigh to the
very edge of her pubic region leaving only about a one
inch strip from her outer labia unscathed. He continued
beating her right thigh for the full 5 minutes as
promised, up the back, then down the inner surface, up
the back, then down the inner surface and so on,
occasionally placing a hard blow on her already well-
beaten ass just to mix things up a bit. He also
quickened his pace.
THHHWWWAAACCCKKK!
THHHWWWAAACCCKKK!
THHHWWWAAACCCKKK!
Finally he stopped.
She couldn't believe it. The back of the thigh wasn't
so bad, I mean, it hurt, but it was bearable. The inner
thigh was entirely another matter however. The pain was
unbearable. She couldn't stop crying. 'It was too
much', she was thinking to herself, 'Just too much.'
Finally she regained some of her composure and started
begging again..."Please M-ister Jameson... STOP!
PLEASE!!"
But Jameson wasn't giving her a real rest break. Just a
few minutes to collect herself and so he could walk
around to the other side to give the left thigh the
same treatment as the right.
He reached the other side and began without even an
answer to her plea. Or maybe this WAS his answer...
THHHWWWAAACCCKKK! "AAAAHHHHHHHHHEEEE!!"
He beat her left thigh with equal ferocity, starting
once again about mid-thigh and slowly moving up to
where thigh meets the pubic area. He left a series of
evenly spaced welts and then went back to fill in the
gaps. He was sparing her nothing, whipping the
instrument down as hard as he could. He was being
especially brutal to her inner thigh area knowing that
it would hurt the most. Once again he quickened the
pace.
THHHWWWAAACCCKKK!
THHHWWWAAACCCKKK!
THHHWWWAAACCCKKK!
So much so that he was able to get in three good
strokes between each of her screams. So he kept on
pouring it on. Again and again the wicked instrument
landed on her unprotected and sensitive thigh.
He looked up to notice that he only had a few moments
left, so he turned his attention back to her backside
and brought the shaft of the crop down fiercely across
her ass-cheeks, as fast as he could. Perhaps 1 per
second for the last 30 seconds raising a fresh set of
welts on her already severely welted bottom. He
stopped. He slowly walked back behind her to get a good
view of her extremely well-beaten ass and thighs, not
to mention her beautiful bare pussy. He just stood
there watching. Her entire body, especially her butt,
heaving up and down to the rhythm of her cries.
Vicki was once again fighting to gain control, but it
was hard. Those last strokes were brutal and it felt
like the shaft of the crop had cut her ass to ribbons!!
Not to mention her left thigh, like the right before
it, was burning like it was on fire. She cried -- and
cried -- and cried some more. Finally she did, however
get control of herself and she decided not to beg
anymore. It just seemed to make him hit her harder and
she could not even imagine being hit harder than this.
Her backside reminded Jameson of a Relief Map of the US
he had seen once. There were high ridged welts of
various sizes that looked like mountains which were
purplish in color. In between reddish valleys
stretching from the top of her ass, to the mid-way
point of her thighs. He almost laughed at the analogy,
but thought better of it. She just might forget the
pain to get angry and he didn't want to lose control of
her that way.
He then turned his attention back to that lovely pussy.
The stark difference in colors was striking. From the
purple welts bordered by a one inch or so strip of
unmarked and really white flesh to the dull red color
of her outer labia, to the various shades of pink of
her inner vaginal area and clit. 'They wouldn't be
staying those colors for long!' he thought to himself.
Once again he marveled at her clit, standing firm and
hard above the hood around it and knew now he had to
touch it, at least long enough to see what her reaction
would be. He could always stop if she started to
object.
Jameson had given the helpless girl a longer time to
rest this time. He wanted her full attention for the
next part of his plan. He was about to embark into
uncharted territory. See, even he had never tried
sexually touching one of his victims before and might
not have now except for the persistent throbbing in his
pants. He had so much hormones racing through his
system that he couldn't help himself. Of course this
didn't mean she was going to be spared the lash, quite
the opposite, if all went well he would be able to whip
that lovely cunt all he wanted.
He cleared his throat loudly and stated "Well Vicki,
it's time to start the final phase of your punishment.
Because you seem to persist in finding enjoyment in
this process, as evidenced by the little display you
gave when I walked in, I have decided that it will be
thorough and very painful whipping of your most
sensitive spot... right between your legs!"
The girl was startled by this announcement "NOOOOOOO!!"
she shouted clearly "you CAN'T whip me THERE!!" She
never consciously thought he was going to do THAT. She
thought, if fact, that was skirting around that spot on
purpose, knowing it would be too extreme a punishment
to give. "NO WAY!!" She shouted again But of course her
pleas where falling on deaf ears as he had already made
up his mind.
She continued to protest until he raised his large hand
and brought it down hard on her ass: WHHHAAAPPP!!
"OWWWWWWWWWW!! she exclaimed.
At the same time he shouted, "SHUT UP!!
She shut up, not wanting him to get any angrier with
her. He, of course, wasn't angry at all and was really
enjoying himself, but she had no way of knowing this.
"I AM going to thrash your little cunt... but first,
because of the really sensitive nature of that part of
your body, I will cover the area that is to be whipped
with a special cream I've mixed up." he continued "It
will also give some measure of protection during the
cropping" he lied "and also will put more on after I'm
finished the whipping to help it heal properly. I'm
going to give you some to take with you as well and I
want you to use it twice a day until the welts have
gone away... okay?"
"NO!! NOOO!!" was her only response. She still could
not believe she was about to get her cunt and more
importantly, her CLIT whipped!! This isn't HAPPENING!!
she kept saying to herself. I won't be able to even
WALK if he does this!! She was crying again and he
hadn't even touched her yet. She remembered just how
spread apart her nether lips really were, how exposed
and prominent her clitoris was and realized just how
much it would hurt to have that horrible crop-thing
smash into it!!
He went and retrieved the 'Special Cream' he had talked
about. It was a homemade mixture of a slightly thick,
water based lubricant and several types of antibiotic
ointments. The mixture was white in color and was quite
slippery when applied. He had checked it to be sure it
was just right so that, when applied, it would produce
an immediate arousal affect on her.
This was for two reasons. First; he wanted to se if he
could get her sexually excited. Perhaps even make her
cum. Second; he wanted that clitty as hard and
sensitive as it could get when he started whipping it.
He knew full well that the clit is most sensitive just
after an orgasm and he wanted it at it's most sensitive
state for the punishment phase of his plan.
He had used a 'squirt' type container for the mix and
pumped several times to place a generous amount on the
tips of his fingers. He then reached down towards her
vagina. The ointment was a little cold so when it
touched her enlarged clit, she jumped. Her ass moved
almost another 6 inches higher than it was before. He
ignored this and started to rub the area with slow
circles.
When he first touched her clit, the cold startled her,
but after just a few seconds his manipulations started
produced the desired affect. She took in a sharp breath
as two of his fingers expertly manipulated her now
totally aroused clit. 'FUCK that feels GOOD!!' she said
to herself. After the whipping of her ass and thighs,
this was heavenly!!
He continued to massage her now fully extended
clitoris. Occasionally letting his fingers glide down
the full length of her slit and probing, just slightly,
inside that forbidden zone. 'That will come later.' he
said to himself 'Hopefully' he added.
It was unquestionably working. She was starting to move
her ass up and down to the rhythm of his fingers. He
just kept rubbing, stroking, caressing that beautiful
clit and cunt until she was breathing fast and ragged.
He knew it wouldn't be long before she came and he
wanted her right on the edge before he stopped.
She was in ecstasy. The pain temporarily buried under a
sea of pure pleasure and she was building quickly to
orgasm. Her head was moving side to side. Her hips
thrashing all about. Then, all of a sudden, it stopped.
His hand was gone.
'NOOOOO!! DON'T STOP!!' she wanted to say, but she
still was wrestling with her mixed feelings about
letting this fucking pervert get her off. Right now
though, nothing mattered except she was about to cum.
She HAD to cum!!
Jameson had timed it perfectly. He stopped just moments
before her orgasm. He quickly picked up the riding crop
and with the practiced aim of a marksman, brought the
tip of the crop down directly on that jutting clit.
SLAP!! his aim was perfect. He didn't hit it too hard,
just hard enough to cause mild pain (compared to the
pain he had inflicted earlier) and to hopefully finish
her orgasm with the contact of leather to cunt.
SLAP!! once again and then a series of very fast,
medium hard strokes,
SLAP!!
SLAP!!
SLAP!!
SLAP!!
SLAP!!
SLAP!!
SLAP!!
It was too much for her and that built-up orgasm just
exploded out and through her like the breaking of a
dam!! She CAME!! Harder and longer than she had ever
cum in her life, but this wouldn't be true for long. At
the point of this explosion, a rush of female juices
came gushing out of her tight little cunt. She was lost
inside it. She never wanted it to end. It lasted for
several minutes and all the time he kept using that
same methodical stroke. Not hard, not hard at all. Just
enough to make her feel it. The sound of the crop
changed when she gushed to a SLOP! as the end of the
crop became wet from her juices. After about another
minute or so her orgasm subsided and he stopped.
'This isn't so bad' she thought to herself "hell, he
can do this all he wants!!'
What she didn't realize, of course, that this was all
part of his master plan and it could not have been
working more perfectly. He let her rest for a few
moments more then "I hope you enjoyed that... since you
are NOT going to enjoy what comes next." With those
words, he raised his arm to resume the attack on her
bare, unprotected cunt. Spread so wide, clit so damn
hard, so perfect for whipping!!
She didn't have time to ponder the words he had spoken.
In fact she barely heard them since she was still in
that wonderful post-orgasmic state and, in fact, was
still wanting more. Still totally aroused. It didn't
last. All of a sudden there were two noises. The first
was that old, almost familiar:
THHHHWWWWAAAAKKKK!! the next, she realized after, came
from deep down inside her: AAAAHHHHHIIIIIIEEEEE!!"
She almost didn't know she was screaming. All she knew
was there was a blinding, searing, agonizing pain down
there between her legs and suddenly she was aware that
all the pain she had endured before this was nothing.
Absolutely nothing compared to this.
Jameson brought the weapon down hard. Aiming the very
end of the now wet tip of the crop smashing into her
exposed clitoris. He started to think of another
analogy, 'Pretend her clit is a nail, the crop a hammer
and drive it back into her body.' The tip of the crop
found it's mark and could see, from only one stroke,
the color change between the top of the clit and it's
sides. It was already showing a small welt. It was
perfect. The height of the desk was low (30") and he
was tall (6"2") so the angle of attack was just
perfect. He was standing on her left side, facing
backwards (towards the mirror, which was why it was
there!) and bending over slightly. In this way he could
bring his arm down, snapping his wrist just before the
moment of contact. The result: Perfect!
He continued in earnest now fast and hard.
And the screams started and continued unabated.
He continued to whip her bare cunt without mercy.
Covering the entire area he had neglected earlier, that
narrow band of white at each side of her pubic mound,
with an ever deepening shade of red.
Now, to be sure, he was not whipping her cunt quite as
hard as he had whipped her ass, but he WAS hitting it
hard none the less. He wanted to leave welts, but not
the deep kind he inflicted on her ass and thighs. She
wasn't even crying, just screaming. Long, loud and
continuous....
THHHHWWWWAAAAKKKK!!
Finally he glanced up at the clock and saw that 5
minutes had passed. 'Time for a break' he said to
himself. So after one more set of strokes aimed for the
center of her already sore cunt, he stopped once again.
Although he stopped, the screams continued. Turning
finally into a flood of tears as she started to cry
uncontrollably.
She had no idea, in reality, of what being branded felt
like, but she was sure it must have felt something like
this. Her cunt was flame. The pain stretched up deep
inside her and down both legs.
"Five minute break Vicki. Then the last 5 minutes of
punishment." he stated as flatly as he could. He was
actually seething inside. A raw fiery buildup of sexual
energy was quickly consuming him. She wasn't the only
one who wanted to end this.
He too could not wait much longer before he would be
able to release the tidal flood of cum that had built
up inside his balls.
She could not get control. She was wracked in utter
agony and the violent movements of her hips betrayed
this fact. He just stared lustfully at her well-beaten
cunt. Noticing the welt lines that covered her
oversized clit.
"NO MORE!! M-MISTER JAMESON... PLEASE NOOO MORE!!"
she pleaded sincerely "ANYTHING, DO ANYTHING else but
PLEASE DON'T WHIP MY PUSSY ANY MORE!!"
He just stood there, watched her twitching about and
thought about it for a few moments. Then he said
emotionlessly "Anything? Anything at all?"
"YES! YES! ANYTHING BUT MORE OF THAT!"
"What if I wanted to turn you over, face up, and give
you the last 5 minutes on your breasts?"
"WHAT? YOU WANT TO W-WHIP M-MY BREASTS NOW TOO?!"
"Well, Miss Wilkins, it's not so much a matter of what
I want, but since you say you can't take any more on
your pussy, I'm just giving you an alternative... and
you have exactly one minute left of your rest period to
make up your mind.... otherwise I'll just take your
silence as a decline and continue my whipping between
your legs!" She tried to think quickly. She knew what
the whipping felt like on her bare pussy and didn't
think anything could be as bad as that. So somewhat
reluctantly she said "Okay, Mister Jameson, I'd rather
be whipped ANYWHERE but down there anymore."
He wasn't sure if he was pleased or not. It was
actually a spur of the moment decision to make the
offer and even though he wouldn't mind putting some
welts on those lovely tits and nipples, still he wanted
to whip her cunt some more. "All right now Miss
Wilkins. No trying to get away as I loosen your
bindings now, or it will go harder on you!"
"I won't." she promised, but she wasn't sure if she
would keep it or not. He started with her legs, untying
them quickly. Next he moved up to un-do her arms. He
helped her to turn over and started to re-tie her
without incident until he decided to use 2 extra pieces
of leather to tie her knees as far apart as he could
(at least he could have a good view!) so now her ankles
were tied almost 5 feet apart and her left knee was
tied, pull back straight to the side.
He then was tying her right knee in the same fashion
when he accidentally brought his hand down on her
bruised clit and she jumped, hands not secured yet as
he had started with her feet and punched him. Not very
hard, but it caught him right on the side of the jaw.
She recoiled and apologized as soon as it happened, but
the damage was done.
He was pissed. REALLY PISSED. "THAT is going to cost
you my dear Victoria!!"
"All deals are OFF!! Now GET BACK DOWN on the table
RIGHT NOW!!"
She knew she was in serious trouble now, but she almost
sensed something like relief showing on his face. As if
he was glad it had happened. Now she was sure she
should have let him finish the punishment on her cunt
lying face down. He very quickly moved up to secure her
arms and then returned to finish securing her right
knee. She was now spread as far as a person could get.
Her legs practically straight out from the hip to the
knees giving him total access to her already damaged
cunt once again. Her arms were tied tight and also
stretched out so much that she could not move hardly at
all from side to side. 'This was not good!' she said
toherself and started to apologize again, but he cut
her off with a curt " Tell it to someone who cares...."
and "You ARE going to be sorry, that is for SURE!"
He went and retrieved his prized Crop and continued,
"For that assault you made on me, Your now going to get
double the punishment you had left before.... First
off, you get 5 minutes on your breasts, followed by
another 5 minutes on your inner thighs and cunt!"
She again renewed her apology and begged for
forgiveness, but he just ignored her. 'Now to get those
nipples hard...' he mused to himself. He decided to use
his 'cream' on her tits, so he picked up the bottle and
let a large drop fall directly on each of her nipples.
Since the stuff was quite cool they immediately became
quite hard. He spread it around her breasts pausing to
pinch her nips at the same time, just to get them extra
hard. Like her clit, he knew if those long nips were
hard and erect, it would hurt MUCH more than if they
weren't. Now she was ready!
The worst part, next to the pain itself, was now she
was going to be able to see the crop whipping her and
she didn't have time to wait. He raised his arm and
brought the end of the implement down as hard as he
could right smack on her right nipple.
She screamed!
The first dozen or so hits landed on, or near her right
nip. Instant welts were rising all over her tit. He
then switched to the other side; on the left tit as
well. He decided to cover both tits at the same time,
rather than each separately as he had done with her
thighs. Now back to the right; and the left.
Back and forth this continued... and she was screaming
again! He was now TRULY glad for his inspired offer to
take the last of it on her tits. Now not only was he to
get this, but also another whipping on her delicious
cunt as well!! His strokes were all out. He was going
to beat those lovely tits to one huge welt!! Just
another few more until the 5 minutes is up... the last
of his strokes landing directly on each nipple, back
and forth, back and forth... He was sure he had given
her well over 200 strokes during that session and he
was panting from the exertion when he stopped. He was
panting, but she was still screaming...and crying.
He told her that she would get a 5 minute break before
the last whipping, but she didn't hear him. She
couldn't believe that the whipping on her tits could
hurt as much as the one on her cunt... she was WRONG!!
Of course he had whipped her tits MUCH harder and
faster than he had whipped her pussy, still it shocked
and surprised her just how sensitive her nipples really
were!!
Especially since he aimed for those raised buds more
often than not. It also occurred to her that the last
few hits didn't hurt as much and she surmised that the
area was becoming desensitized from all the whipping.
So she tried, in vain, to get him to give her the rest
on her breasts, trying to spare her cunt further pain,
but he just ignored her and just continued to examine
the damage.
The welts on her tits were GREAT! He couldn't believe
how HUGE and purple her nipples had become. He wanted
to reach out and touch them, perhaps pinch them a
little, but he figured to save that for later. No, she
wasn't going to get up right after the whipping was
over....not this time.... He said now simply "Rest
period over." and was once again on the left side of
the table... raised his arm... took aim...
and...THHHHWWWWAAAAKKKK!! it came down right on the
center of her cunt.
"OOOOH GOD!" came the response. Five quick more strokes
on the cunt... aiming at the center of her clit...then
he switched to her right and left thighs, alternating
between them... back and forth several times like that
then back to her cunt... He spared her nothing this
time, getting almost completely lost in the whipping he
was giving to the totally helpless girl. He just
couldn't help himself. The sound of the crop as it made
its way to her battered body... and that sudden;
THHHHHWWWWWAAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!! as it made contact and
the blood curdling scream that came from her lips was
just more than he could control with all the hormones
racing through his body and the aching pressure in his
nuts.
This continued for the whole 5 minutes. First attack
the cunt... then the thighs... then the cunt... then
the thighs... all the time her body twitching and
moving violently around as far as the restraints would
allow. Finally at the end he finished by turning
suddenly and giving her another 10 strokes on each
nipple, then turning again to give the last 10 strokes,
very hard strokes, directly on her clit.
It ended. He walked over to another table, sat down and
watched her, just stared at her. This continued for
almost 10 minutes. 'MAN am I horny!!' he exclaimed to
himself.
Over the next 10 minutes Vicki slowly stopped crying
out loud. Her sobs turned to heavy, deep breaths as she
fought to gain control over the intense pain she felt
and amazingly, the pain, or at least some of it, also
slowly subsided. She became aware of her surroundings
once again and also was aware that he was watching her.
She even saw the look of lust on his face and started
to get scared again. She tried to think of something to
say, but decided against it, at least for now.
Another 10 minutes slowly passed, but finally he got up
and walked over to her. He broke the silence then by
saying gently, almost lovingly, "I'm going to rub some
lotion on your welts now... Okay?"
She could only respond with a simple "Okay."
He picked up the lotion bottle and let a few, large
dollops land on her breasts. He then started to rub it
in very gently. At first it hurt and she took in sharp
breaths when it did. Each time this happened, he would
stop for a moment, then continue. After a while it
started to feel not bad. Not actually good mind you,
but not bad. He occasionally added more lotion with his
other hand and slowly, very slowly, after maybe 10 or
more minutes, it did start to feel pretty good.
Next were her thighs. He moved down to them working
very slowly and carefully, first up one thigh, then
down the other. He continued this until it too started
to feel pretty good. She was still in pain mind you,
especially on and around her clit (which was still very
hard) but he wanted to have the pain gone from her
breasts and thighs before attending to that spot. So he
kept working on the inner thighs for a long time. After
a while, she seemed almost to be enjoying his gentle
stroking.
Now it was time for her pussy. He put a large amount of
cream on his fingers and with one slow, careful swipe,
he spread it all the way up her slit, ending just above
the clit. She let out a sharp breath and a small
scream. Not anything like from the whipping, but quite
audible none the less. Tears once again filled her eyes
so he stopped for several minutes, until she calmed
down again. He resumed his ministrations to her badly
welted cunt. He couldn't believe how bruised and red
her clit was. It looked to be more than twice its
normal size.
He gently caressed the entire pubic area, but kept
returning to that huge clitoris. After more than 15
minutes of this, he turned his full attention to that
digit and after dropping another generous portion of
cream on it, used 2 fingers from his left hand to
gently spread her lips completely apart. Then he
started to softly, slowly circle her clit with his
middle finger. Around the outer edges, then over the
top, around, then over.
He repeated this for a very long time, with seemingly
infinite patience and eventually she started to
respond. He continued for another 10 minutes or so
until she was really starting to respond.
'DAMN!' she thought to herself 'That is actually
starting to feel really good!!' She kept her eyes
tightly shut, which was just fine with him, so as to
not betray how good it was starting to feel. It wasn't
working though. She couldn't stop herself from
occasionally letting out a little sigh and the more it
continued, the more animated she became.
Her hips started to rise and fall to the rhythm just as
they had done earlier, before the whipping on her cunt.
She moved more and more and started to moan and sigh in
earnest. That familiar feeling was starting to grow
down deep inside her vagina and she knew, she couldn't
believe it, but she knew that she was building to an
orgasm.
Jameson sensed all of this and his erection once again
threatened to split his pants wide open. He was going
to have to get relief soon... He now decided to move
on. So the task of massaging her clit fell to his left
index finger, after adding some more lotion, while 2
fingers from his right hand descended to her vaginal
opening. He placed them at the entrance and slowly
pushed them in.
She opened her eyes wide now, snapping her head back to
center as she did. He noticed this, of course, but
decided to keep his attention focused on her cunt. She
was going to say something, then realized that she
WANTED him to do this. She WANTED him to put his
fingers deep inside her. She WANTED him to scratch that
itch in there and give her release.
"Little slut" she said out load. Very softly, but
audibly as she again closed her eyes and turned away.
He had heard this, of course, and smiled. He HAD
her...He really, REALLY had her. Nothing would stop him
now!! He moved his mouth down to replace his finger
with his tongue and sucked her enlarged clitty into his
mouth, flicking his tongue over the entire surface as
he did.
He pushed his totally wet fingers into her cunt and
when they reached bottom, she let out a rather loud
moan "OHHHHHHH!!"
Now he started to move them in and out. At the same
time continuing to massage her oversized clit with his
wet tongue. She started to pant and moan "YESS!!
YEESS!! OH FUCK YEEESSSSS!! YESSSSS!!" Then she came.
Harder and longer than that first time. She fucked his
fingers hard and fast. Moving her hips to the motion of
his fingers that were buried inside her hot, wet cunt.
After almost 3 minutes of this, it subsided. He pulled
his fingers from her cunt, but continued to lick and
suck her clit. He wanted her to stay really horny. It
worked. He could tell from her movements that she
wasn't finished cumming yet. She was thinking the same
thing, in fact, and now he could wait no more.
Jameson removed his mouth from her clit and in about 3
seconds flat had his pants down and off. His cock
sprang free from his jockey's and she once again opened
her eyes to see what was going on. She let out a loud
gasp when she saw it.
"IT'S HUGE!!" she exclaimed.
Much to his delight. 'It WAS rather a nice size at
that' he thought to himself and she just kept staring
at it as he got on top of her. She watched as it's huge
head was at the entrance to her cunt. She watched as he
slowly, methodically plunged it into her depths. She
could not believe the feeling of it. It filled her so
completely that she was sure it would rip her apart,
but after just a few thrusts, her vaginal muscles
became adjusted to the size and it started to feel
incredibly good!!
He started fuck her hard and slow. Thrusting his cock
in and out, slamming his body into hers. Sometimes when
he slammed into her clit, she had to cry out, but the
pain it caused was mixing with the massive pleasure
inside her and she was actually starting to enjoy the
pain almost as much. In fact, she started to thrust
herself up to meet him so that the contact would be
that much harder, that much more painful.
On and on they fucked. Liked wild, crazed animals.
Finally the head of his cock grew and swelled to twice
its regular size and he started to cum. She was also at
the edge, although she had already cum many times and
kept thrusting to meet him. He yelled out as he came,
spewing what felt to both as a gallon of cum deep
inside her. She responded with a hard orgasm of her own
and after a few more minutes of gradually slower
fucking... he stopped... collapsing on top of her.
***
Much later, after several more hours of intense sexual
action (he had even taught her the basics of sucking
cock) they were in his office relaxing after a nice hot
shower in the men's locker room. They were talking
about the night's activities and then he said "you
know, I really am grateful to you... for more reasons
than one..."
"What do you mean by that?" she replied "I guess I mean
that if it weren't for young ladies like you to keep me
on my guard, I might get sloppy. If I get sloppy and
things start walking out of here, I'd be out of a
job!!"
"Well," she answered with a bright smile. "We wouldn't
want that to happen, now would we?"
"I'll tell you what," she continued. "I'll keep trying
and whenever I'm successful, you'll have to buy it for
me. After all we wouldn't want to have stuff come up
missing and risk you losing your job... would we?"
He thought it over and came back with, also smiling,
"OK, but if I catch you, you have submit to what ever
punishment I decide to give and you know how hard I can
punish."
"Yes I do and YOU know how much I enjoy being punished,
so I guess we could both win," she said widening her
smile even more. "Well, this could be the start of a
very interesting and arousing relationship." With that
they continued to talk about the particulars of this
'arrangement'.
THE END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 50