Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: redragon@interserv.com
Subject: Vicki's Shoplifting Punishment (Mf, spanking) [1/5]
Date: 26 Nov 1995 21:43:03 GMT

			Vicki Learns A Lesson
				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 O.K., 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 herself 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 asscheek 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 lay
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 bad!"

	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 asscheek.
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.

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: redragon@interserv.com
Subject: Vicki's Shoplifting Punishment (Mf, spanking) [2/5]
Date: 26 Nov 1995 21:44:39 GMT

			Vicki Learns A Lesson
			       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 aftereffects 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
yesterday's, 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 lay 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 what 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 the for 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 asscheeks 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.

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: redragon@interserv.com
Subject: Vicki's Shoplifting Punishment (Mf, spanking) [3/5]
Date: 26 Nov 1995 21:46:41 GMT

			Vicki Learns A Lesson
			      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, their 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 asscheeks 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 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 asscheeks 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 asscheek. 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.

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: redragon@interserv.com
Subject: Vicki's Shoplifting Punishment (Mf, spanking) [4/5]
Date: 26 Nov 1995 21:48:46 GMT

			Vicki Learns A Lesson
			       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."

	The note was signed "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 areoles 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 to 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
spreadeagled, 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 asscheeks 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 asscheeks. 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 asscheek. 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 gridwork 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, spreadeagled 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.

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: redragon@interserv.com
Subject: Vicki's Shoplifting Punishment (Mf, spanking) [5/5]
Date: 26 Nov 1995 21:51:58 GMT

			Vicki Learns A Lesson
				Friday

	Vicki arrived at Jameson's office promptly at 4:00, wearing a
billowy sundress, without stockings or panty hose. She didn't know
what he had in store for her today, but she wasn't going to repeat
yesterday's mistake of wearing something snug. Her chinos had been
agony to get into and had chafed her bottom - her ass - all the way
home.

	Her mother had been out when Vicki arrived, and she had gone
straight to her room, stripped off every stitch and taken a long cool
shower. The spray had stung her bruised ass, and she had patted
herself dry very cautiously, but the lotion she had spread over the
welts afterward had provided soothing relief. She had put on gobs of
the stuff, spreading it over her ass with gentle circular movements of
her hand, and lain face down on her bed while her skin absorbed the
lotion.

	Inevitably, it seemed, lying in that position and touching her
ass repeatedly to feel how much lotion was left had conjured up the
image of her position yesterday, and she had mentally watched her
immobilized asscheeks writhe as she whipped them with a cane. Just as
inevitably, her wandering fingers had found her pussy, waiting hot and
slippery, and had probed and stroked until her arousal had been slaked
by an orgasm that left her shaking. She hadn't repeated those
movements after dinner, though, because the orgasm had knotted her
muscles and really made her ass hurt.

	Jameson was waiting for her this time, and seemed to be in a
less intimidating mood. "Good afternoon, Miss Wilkins," he greeted
her. "I'm glad to see that you decided to stay the course. I think
we've accomplished a lot in terms of changing your attitudes toward
theft, and I would have been very disappointed if you'd made me file a
police report now."

	Of course there was no way he could have considered making a
report; he'd given up that option the moment he'd mentioned the
alternative of private punishment. The real disappointment would have
resulted from the fact that his videotape masterpiece would have
lacked the conclusion he had decided upon. Victoria wouldn't know what
a star she'd become, but she would learn before long how he was going
to conclude her punishment.

	Vicki had stripped off her sandals and sundress while Jameson
was speaking, and followed him meekly down the icy stairwell to the
security room. She slipped out of the bikini and turned to face him,
her breasts jutting toward him above her crossed arms. "I agreed to
let you spank me," she told him, "but I don't want anything like you
gave me yesterday. It still hurts, a lot, and I want you to promise
that you won't use the cane on me today."

	Jameson was surprised by the girl's defiance. He needed time
to think what to say; he didn't want to give in to any demands, but
neither did he want to lose the chance to play out the scene he'd
planned. "Turn around and let me see your ass," he commanded.

	Jameson caught his breath as the girl complied. The sheer
perfection of her body amazed him. Most of the welts from the day
before had faded, but some of the puffier ones remained, forming a
bright pink lattice-work across her delicious ass. Except for the
contact required for the spankings, he had avoided touching her until
then, but he couldn't help running a hand slowly over her asscheeks
and fingering the remaining welts. She winced at the contact but
didn't seem shocked by it - in fact, Jameson realized, she let her
feet slide apart by several more inches, opening more of her body to
his inspection.

	Reluctantly, Jameson pulled his hand away. "I'll tell you
what," he said. "Since today is kind of a graduation day for you, I
had planned a review session, repeating a small part of each spanking
you've had this week, beginning with the hand spanking you missed out
on, then going on to the paddle and so forth. I was going to give you
twenty of each, but since you are still showing the effects of the
caning yesterday, I will only give you ten with the cane today."

	Vicki turned to face him again. "Please," she said in an
anguished voice, "I'm still so sore from yesterday, just give me ten
of each." Despite the pleading tone, she was actually relieved. After
what she'd been through, she was sure that she could stand twenty of
anything - even the cane, if it had come to that. The really terrible
part of all of the spankings had been not knowing when they would be
over. As long as she knew he would stop at twenty, she could keep from
jumping around, maybe even from screaming so much. In fact, she found
the thought of a hand spanking a little bit exciting.

	"No, Victoria, this is going to be a thorough review session,"
Jameson told her firmly. He'd never used her first name before, but,
like his touching her earlier, he felt as though the relationship they
had developed made that appropriate. "And to be certain that you've
learned your lesson completely, we're going to discuss it again before
each part of the session. Do you understand?"

	Vicki nodded mutely. Jameson sat down on the front edge of the
sofa and beckoned to her. She crossed the room and positioned herself
across his knees as she had the first day. It was hard to believe
that that was only four days ago, so much had happened to her since
then!

	She felt Jameson's hand between her thighs, pushing them
apart, and she spread her knees cooperatively, feeling a slight thrill
at her awareness that she was giving him a better view of her pussy.
Then she felt the weight of his hand on the right cheek of her ass.

	"Now, Victoria, I want you to tell me why you're here,"
Jameson instructed.

	"Because I tried to steal a bikini," she replied.

	"You stole the bikini," he corrected her. "As soon as you
walked out the door of the store, your theft was complete. Now, why
have you been coming down here to the security room every day this
week?"

	"To be punished for stealing, and to learn not to do it
again," Vicki answered.

	"Very good, Victoria," Jameson congratulated her. "And how do
you think I should punish you?"

	"Spank me, I mean you should spank me with your hand."

	"How many times do you want me to spank you?" Jameson
inquired.

	"Twenty," came the reply.

	"All right, Victoria, I'd like you to put all of that together
into a polite request."

	Vicki thought for a few seconds. "Please punish me for
stealing the bikini, and teach me never to steal anything again, by
spanking me twenty times with your hand."

	"Since you ask so nicely, Victoria, I'm going to do as you
request," Jameson said sweetly. "Where would you like me to begin?"

	Confused, Vicki answered "On my bot - on my ass."

	"Yes, of course, all of them will be on your ass," Jameson
said. "But today I want your participation, Victoria. Each spank will
go exactly where you want it, but you must point out where that is.
Now lift your hand and point to where you would like the first spank,
and then get your hand out of the way, because I'm ready to start."

	Vicki reached back with her left hand and touched her finger
to a spot in the middle of the left cheek of her ass. She felt
Jameson's hand lift from the right cheek and jerked her hand forward
to rest in the small of her back. True to his word, Jameson gave her a
hard, stinging slap exactly where her finger had pointed.

	"Oh!' Vicki gasped.

	"Point!" Jameson ordered, and Vicki touched a spot high on her
right asscheek. She had barely moved her finger when his slightly
cupped hand cracked down again.

	"Ouch!' Vicki cried.

	"We'll be here all day at this rate, Victoria," Jameson said
with exasperation. "I don't want to have to say a word. As soon as I
spank you once you should be pointing to where you want the next one.
If you haven't pointed by the time my hand comes down, then it will
land wherever it happens to, but it won't count toward your twenty.
Now point!"

	Vicki pointed, jerking her finger from spot to spot with
Jameson's stinging hand following. He counted each spank aloud, except
for a few times when she failed to point quickly enough. She reacted
with a sharp little cry to each spank, but her eyes remained dry -
unlike her pussy, which was getting wetter and hotter each time he
touched her. She wished she could put her fingers in there, or better
yet, that Jameson would do it. She found herself so excited by that
thought that she didn't even realize when he counted "twenty". It was
only when she pointed to a new spot and Jameson's hand didn't fall
that she realized the hand spanking was over.

	Jameson laughed. "Don't worry, Victoria, we'll get to that
spot in a bit." He lifted her to her feet with his arm under her
breasts. "Now, go get the paddle and bring it back to me." He was
pleased that he had thought of involving the girl in her own
punishment, and she had seemed to enjoy it during the hand spanking.
He wondered if she would be as cooperative once he started paddling
her. He had been tempted to forget about the paddle and just go on
with his hand; the sight and feel of those firm young asscheeks
bouncing under his palm was hard to relinquish. But he knew she needed
more than a hand spanking to prepare her for the finale.

	Vicki had retrieved the paddle and was turning it over in her
hands as she walked back to him. "You used the side with the holes in
it, the second day, didn't you? That's why it hurt so much more, and
left those funny marks."

	"That's right," Jameson answered, getting to his feet. "And
since this is a review of what you've already had, I'll give you the
first ten with the smooth side, and turn it over for the rest."

	Vicki started to walk behind the sofa. "No," Jameson
interrupted her movement. "I want you facing the other way this time.
Kneel on the sofa, facing the back." There was no way he could move
the video cameras while she was in the room, and he needed to cover
the desk in a few minutes, so he hadn't been able to spare a camera to
cover the back of the sofa.

	Vicki knelt on the sofa, her knees widely separated, and
leaned forward until she was draped over the back. She knew her ass
was jutting out and reached back with one hand to be sure that she
could reach it to point. She wasn't sure how she felt about this
pointing business; it had been kind of nice to feel that she
controlled where Jameson's hand was going to spank her next, but with
the paddle it was going to be more like inviting lightning to strike
her. Maybe, she hoped, it wouldn't hurt so much now that she was used
to things that hurt even more.

	"Don't you have a request to make, Victoria?" Jameson reminded
her.

	"Oh. Yes," she answered. "To punish me for stealing the
bikini, and to help me learn not to steal anymore, please spank me
twenty times with the paddle. But only ten times with the side with
the holes," she added.

	"All right, I'll do as you ask. And remember, you have to show
me where you want each one," Jameson said. She pointed to the spot,
low on the left cheek, that she'd touched after he'd finished the hand
spanking, and he saw her buttocks quiver in anticipation. He put his
left hand lightly on her back, lifted it high and brought it down hard
and fast on the area she'd indicated.

	"YEOW!' Vicki yelled. She pointed quickly to a spot on the
right side of her ass and jerked her hand away as the paddle descended
again. "Ouch!" Sweat beaded her forehead as she concentrated on
holding back her tears. Her hips slammed forward into the sofa with
each stroke of the paddle, and her ass was a moving target at which
she tried to point as it rebounded to meet the next blow. God, how it
burned, Vicki thought, and it would get worse after Jameson counted
"ten".

	Jameson counted the tenth stroke and saw the girl hesitate
briefly before pointing to the outer edge of her right asscheek, her
muscles hardening to brace themselves for the additional pain she
obviously expected. He flipped the paddle over as he swung it, landing
it squarely on the spot she had chosen. The forehand swat knocked her
hips sideways several inches and provoked the closest thing to a
scream he'd heard today. The kid had really been stoic up till now,
but he didn't think she would make it through the paddling without
some real tears. She must have missed wherever she was trying to point
for the twelfth stroke, because her finger touched her asshole rather
than some accessible location. Jameson did his best to oblige,
however, flattening the lower edge of both cheeks with an extra-hard
swing.

	This time her cry left no doubt that she was losing control,
but she didn't forget to choose a new bulls eye and point it out to
him. By the time he'd landed the third stroke with the drilled side of
the paddle the polka dot pattern of the first blow was fully visible
and the second was emerging. Jameson continued paddling the reddening
cheeks without letup until he'd counted the twentieth stroke.

	Vicki turned to face him, tears streaming freely. Jameson
held out the paddle. "Put this away and go get the razor strap," he
ordered.

	She took the paddle from him as she knee-walked backward to
the edge of the sofa and stood up. "That really hurt," she said
plaintively, rubbing her ass with the knuckles of both hands. "Can't I
please have a break before the strap?"

	"Two minutes, Victoria, and then I want you over against the
desk," Jameson conceded, "so I can fasten your restraints."

	"I don't need those today," Vicki announced confidently. She
replaced the paddle in Jameson's desk drawer and withdrew the heavy
leather strap.

	"Are you sure of that, Victoria?" Jameson asked. "I'm willing
to let you go without them, but if you're wrong, even on number 19,
then I'll put them on and we'll have to start over from the
beginning."

	"I'm sure," she answered. "I know what it's going to feel
like, and as long as I know how many there will be, I can hold still."
She handed the strap to him and turned to face the desk, pressing her
thighs against the front of it, spreading her feet wide apart and
bending forward to rest her forearms on the desk top. "I would like
you to punish me for stealing the bikini, and help me learn not to
steal ever again, by spanking me twenty times with the razor strap,"
she recited.

	"Very well, Victoria, if that's what you want," Jameson
responded. "Show me where you would like to begin."

	Vicki reached back with her left hand and touched the lower
surface of her left asscheek, then lifted her arm until it rested
across the small of her back. Her buttocks remained relaxed as Jameson
lifted the strap and drew his arm back to swing it. There was a loud
"SLAP" as his upswing struck the spot to which she had pointed, and
the muscular mass of her left cheek was flung upward two inches or
more.

	"Oh!' the girl hissed softly. She pointed to a symmetrical
spot on the other cheek, and Jameson swung the strap again. Her gasp
this time was not so quiet.

	Jameson was impressed with the girl's fortitude. She continued
to direct the strap from place to place until, after fifteen strokes,
almost her entire ass, which had been speckled when he finished
paddling her, was overlain with broad red stripes. Her cries had
become tremulous, but she never really screamed, nor did she attempt
to dodge the heavy strap.

	Vicki hesitated briefly, then stretched her arm back to point
to the inside of her left thigh. She bit back a scream as the leather
whizzed within an inch or two of her pussy before scorching the area
to which she'd pointed. She slid her feet another few inches apart and
jabbed a finger toward a point slightly higher on the inner surface of
her right leg, pulling her hand away before the strap could catch her
fingers.

	Quaking inside at the thought of the pain she was about to
invite, Vicki pointed to a higher spot inside her left thigh. This
time the strap almost grazed the outer lips of her pussy before
spending its energy against her skin. From the first lash of the
leather strap the heat in her loins had been building, and she had
begun to feel a desperate craving to re-experience the electrifying
jolt that had left her almost insensate when Jameson had lashed her
pussy two days earlier. She invited the strap back to the inside of
her right leg and heard Jameson count "nineteen" as the sound of the
impact echoed in the room.

	There was still time to change her mind but Vicki barely
hesitated before jabbing a finger between the open lips of her pussy
and pulling her hand quickly away. Her body went rigid as she heard
the strap cut through the air. The impact almost lifted her from her
feet, and she was dimly aware, through the exquisitely confused
sensations in her brain, that she had thrown herself forward onto the
desk, clamping her thighs together as though that could clasp the
hissing leather to her pussy forever.

	Vicki didn't hear Jameson's "twenty," but her senses began to
clear when she felt the friction of the strap against her labia as
Jameson tugged it free from her thighs' embrace. She lay whimpering
softly atop the desk until she heard Jameson's voice again.

	"Get up, I said." Vicki realized he must have spoken before
but the words hadn't registered. She lifted herself shakily, letting
the weight of her legs pivot her body until her feet touched the
floor. "Put this away and bring me the cane, Victoria," Jameson
instructed, holding the razor strap out to her.

	She took the strap without a word and replaced it in the lower
drawer of the desk, then closed that drawer and opened the upper one.
She had to struggle with the cane for a few seconds before it sprang
free. Holding the cane for the first time, she noticed that both ends
of the birch had been burnished to a lustrous gloss while the middle
section was dull and grainy. She realized that the hard shininess must
have resulted from long use, of which her caning yesterday was only
the tiniest fraction.

	How many different people had used the cane, she wondered, on
how many squirming asses? Her mind filled with images, tumbling
kaleidescopically, of the cane cutting deep creases in asses of
different sizes, shapes and skin colors, some already heavily welted,
some as yet unblemished. The pictures made her dizzy, but the
dizziness could not obscure Vicki's realization that in each case it
was her hand that wielded the cane!

	" - on the desk." With a start Vicki realized that Jameson had
been speaking to her. The fragmented images in her mind were replaced
by the very specific image of her body lying on the desk, her ass
being furrowed by the polished cane, and she knew that this time, at
least, she would not be the one handling the cane.

	She handed the cane to Jameson and crawled onto the desk.
Starting from a position on her hands and knees, she slowly inched her
knees backward and bent her arms until she was prone. She couldn't
help flinching when the sensitive skin of her nipples and breasts
contacted the cold glass, but she forced herself not to make a sound.
Stretching her arms forward, she grasped a corner of the desk top in
each hand, then spread her feet until they slipped off opposite sides
of the desk and she could hook her heels under the top of the desk.

	"So you want to try this without the restraints, huh?"
Jameson asked skeptically.

	"Sure," Vicki responded bravely, "I can hold still for ten."
In fact she wasn't so sure she could, but it was very important to her
to try. She felt that she had embarrassed herself, more in her own
eyes than in Jameson's, by her lack of control the day before, and she
was determined not to repeat that performance. If she decided that she
needed to cry, or even to scream, she would do so, but she wasn't
going to let her ass decide the question for her.

	"Well, it's your ass, Victoria," Jameson told her. "You know
what will happen if you move. Is there something you'd like to say?"

	She had forgotten about that part of the ritual. "Please
spank me with the cane, ten times, to punish me for stealing the
bikini and to remind me not to steal anything else."

	"Very well," Jameson responded. "I suppose if you're going to
hold on to the desk like that, you won't be able to point, so you just
tell me `right' or `left' and I'll decide the rest." He rested the
cane across the tops of both her thighs.

	"Right," Vicki chose, trying to will her body to relax as she
felt the cane lift. She expelled all of her breath, and didn't begin
to refill her lungs until she heard the whirr of the cane's descent.
Her sudden intake of breath as the cane "thwipped" into her right
asscheek rasped in her ears, and she was surprised a moment later, as
the liquid ribbon of essence-of-pain streamed across her buttock, to
find her toes resting atop the desk.

	Grimly she wedged her heels under the desk top again,
stiffening her knees and ankles in an effort to lock her feet in
place. "Left," she said tonelessly. Vicki tried to empty her lungs
quickly but the cane was faster, and the last of her breath exploded
in a sharp "HUH!" Her eyes flooded with tears as she felt the welt
begin to rise on the left cheek of her ass. She took a small
shuddering breath and called out "left" again.

	Jameson was astounded. He would have bet that the girl would
leap off the desk at the first stroke, and when that hadn't happened
he would have bet the same odds on the second stroke. Both times he
had swung the cane faster and harder than he ever had yesterday, and
yet the girl wasn't even screaming. The noise had really gotten on his
nerves, but her lack of response today took some of the excitement
away. He raised the cane higher than he had the first two times and
aimed at the little crease of baby fat where her left asscheek met her
thigh. Maybe this would get a rise out of her!

	He saw the cords of muscle stand out on the girl's arms and
legs as the cane began its descent. The cane buried itself in the soft
flesh, and her ass rippled as the taut muscles convulsed, but it was
not until the cane had rebounded into the air that she gave a squeaky,
strangled cry. "Three," he counted aloud.

	The girl directed the next three strokes to the right side of
her ass, and Jameson spaced them equally, the first in the center and
the other two above and below. Each was administered with all the
force he could manage and still control where the cane landed. The
girl's body was shaking with silent sobs, tears were pooling under her
face and her entire body was bathed with sweat from the exertion of
locking her hands and feet to the desk, but she hadn't yet moved, nor
had he extracted the kind of involuntary shriek that every stroke of
the cane had produced the day before.

	Jameson was beginning to get annoyed. The girl had just called
for the seventh stroke to fall on her left buttock when Jameson rose
to his toes and brought the cane down with all his strength. She
hadn't had time to expel her breath when the cane landed, only a
diameter from the first of the two previous welts on the left side.
This time the shriek erupted, but she managed almost instantly to
choke it off. One foot had popped out from under the desk top and the
girl forced it back into position before calling for another welt to
join the three that already decorated the left cheek of her ass.

	Jameson moved to the end of the desk before giving her the
last two strokes, but even though those cut at right angles across all
of the previous welts, the girl retained her composure to an
infuriating degree. Only after he had counted the tenth and last did
her sobs become audible. She released the grip she had maintained on
the four corners of the desk and began weeping bitterly, her feet
swaying aimlessly above her bent knees.

	Jameson cursed to himself and vowed that he would never make
the mistake of giving another victim - assuming he ever found another
suitable one - as much control over the course of her punishment. He
hoped that the viciousness with which he had applied the cane, in his
ineffectual effort to break her will, had not numbed her to the point
where she would fail to appreciate the final phase he had planned so
carefully.

	"Get up, Victoria," he directed curtly, "and put your bikini
back on."

	Vicki could hardly believe her ears! She stopped crying and
tried to dry her face with her arm as she slid off the desk. She had
been so afraid that after repeating the previous days' punishment,
Jameson would have something new planned, and she had realized well
before the caning was over that she couldn't handle much more. Even
one more stroke of the cane would have turned her into the kind of
screaming idiot she'd been yesterday.

	She nestled her breasts into the cups of the bikini top and
smoothed the back strap, then pulled the bottom on as high as her
crotch. She stretched the fabric as much as she could before pulling
it up the rest of the way; that kept the elastic waistband from
touching her ass, but her knuckles couldn't avoid the high ridged
welts left by the cane. "Can I go now?" she asked, confident that
Jameson would say yes, although he might insist on lecturing her some
more.

	"Not quite yet, Victoria," came Jameson's reply. He replaced
the cane and then opened the lower desk drawer, removing two of the
"dog collar" restraining straps and a short length of shiny chain.
"You've done very well in your review sessions today, but there is
still the matter of your `graduation' exercises. Come here and give me
your hands."

	Vicki's heart pounded. She knew it had been too good to be
true, to think that Jameson would let her go after the caning. But
whatever was going to happen next, at least she wouldn't be totally
bare naked; the bikini wasn't much protection, but if Jameson really
wanted her to feel pain, he wouldn't have had her put it on. She
walked over to the desk and extended both arms toward him.

	First one wrist and then the other were buckled into the
leather cuffs, and then Jameson pressed some little clips at the ends
of the short chain and her wrists were hooked together, although she
could move them separately for several inches. Jameson grasped the
middle of the chain and led her toward the end of the room that held
toward the shelves with the TV sets, where he stopped and pushed a
button.

	Vicki heard a faint humming noise and looked around for its
source. She hadn't found it when she felt at tug on the chain between
her wrists, lifting her arms into the air. She swung back to look at
Jameson just in time to see him slip the chain over the end of a large
hook. The hook was on the end of a braided cable that went up into a
little hole in the ceiling. Vicki was wondering why she hadn't seen
the hook and cable before when she heard a click. She felt a steady
but increasing pull on her arms, and suddenly she understood - the
humming sound came from some kind of motor above the ceiling, and she
was being slowly hoisted toward it!

	She began immediately to cry and pleaded with Jameson to let
her go, and was told to shut up unless she wanted him to get the cane
out again. Vicki closed her mouth and struggled in silence against the
cable that stretched her upward until she could reach the floor only
by standing on tiptoe. Jameson touched another button and the humming
stopped.

	"Now, Victoria," Jameson told her gently, "you may think that
I've punished you this week just because I like seeing a beautiful
young woman in pain. But that's not true. My main concern has been to
make sure that you learned a lesson that would keep you from ever
repeating a mistake that could ruin the splendid life you have ahead
of you. Do you understand that?"

	Vicki whimpered and nodded. Her shoulders felt like her arms
were being ripped from their sockets, and her feet and calves were
starting to ache from the strain of standing on her toes.

	"I believe you've learned that lesson," Jameson went on, "but
I've been afraid that you may gradually forget it. I've given it a
great deal of thought, and I've decided that your graduation needs to
be very special, to make sure that doesn't happen."

	He left the girl hanging from the cable and went to retrieve
his last two toys from the desk. The cable had originally served to
raise and lower a projection screen, but Jameson had noticed that the
motor was absurdly large for that light duty, and had discovered that
it would even raise and lower his weight without apparent strain. The
screen was in the back room now, but would be re-attached to the
ceiling once he had finished with the girl.

	Rummaging in the desk drawer, Jameson found the two items he
needed. One was a green marking pen with a wide felt tip. The other
was a device he had made himself, out of a piece of broomstick, six
60-inch leather hiking-boot laces and some short pieces of wire. He
was proud of his craftsmanship and eager to test it. He had doubled
each boot lace and fastened the folded ends of all of them to the
circumference of the eight-inch section of broomstick with several
bands of wire, twisted tight and neatly crimped. The result was a
homemade whip with a convenient handle and twelve 30-inch leather
thongs.

	Jameson returned to the girl, whose eyes widened with terror
when she saw his whip. She began to remonstrate with him again, but he
cut her pleas off quickly. "I didn't invite you to speak, Victoria,
and you ought to know better by now than to make me angry," he warned
her.

	The girl gulped and closed her mouth. "One of the things I've
worried about, Victoria," Jameson's unctuous voice continued, "was how
to make certain that your mind associated your punishment with your
theft of the bikini. This may be your first bikini, and easy for you
to remember now, but I'm sure you'll have others in the future, and
you won't remember this one as clearly. So I've decided to give you
another bikini, the same size and shape as this one, but one you won't
be so likely to forget. We'll start by making a pattern."

	He pulled the cap off the marking pen and moved closer to the
girl. She tried to back away, but she could move inches at most.
Jameson touched the marking pen to the middle of her chest, where a
short strip of fabric connected the twin cups that made a pretense of
containing her tits, and began tracing the outline of first one cup
and then the other with the broad tip of the pen. After finishing the
cups, he outlined the narrow band that encircled her rib cage, and
then stooped to begin outlining the bottom of the bikini.

	The waistband was no problem, nor were the front, back and
sides of the leg openings. The lower few inches of each leg opening
presented more of a challenge, since the girl, standing on her toes,
probably couldn't spread her legs if she wanted to. Jameson knelt in
front of her and lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. He drew the
marker heavily along the edges of the fabric, through the few strands
of pubic hair that had escaped from the crotch of the bikini, keenly
aware of the way the thin fabric hugged the contours of the girl's
cuntlips.

	Jameson stood up, letting the girl's leg drop next to the
other one. "Now that we have the pattern for your new bikini, we can
remove the old one," he told her. She squirmed and began to protest as
he rolled the bikini bottom off her ass and slid it down her legs
until it puddled shapelessly on the floor. Then he unfastened the
clasp in the middle of her back that held the top together. He slid
his hands forward, around her ribs, until the cups slipped off her
boobs, unable to resist caressing them, as well as the rest of the
front of her body, as he slid the bikini top down to the floor.

	He pushed the "up" button on the screen control and watched
the girl writhe and kick as her feet left the floor. Suspended from
the cable, she rotated slowly in complete circles, giving him a chance
to check his work with the marking pen. The effect was truly erotic,
he decided. Every bit of flesh that had been covered by the bikini was
outlined in green, nearly the same color as the fabric had been, but
everything that had been covered was now exposed. It was like looking
at the negative of a photograph, where dark and light were reversed,
though the analogy wasn't perfect: except for the bright green
outline, everything that had been uncovered before remained so.

	When the girl's flailing feet were a foot or so off the floor,
Jameson punched the control button again to stop the hoist. The entire
weight of the girl's voluptuous body hung from her slender arms and
shoulders, and she was beginning to tremble from the strain - and
perhaps a little bit from fear, too, Jameson thought with
satisfaction. "Would you like something to stand on?" he inquired
solicitously.

	"Yes, please," the girl groaned. Jameson went to the corner of
the room and picked up the two low shelf-stocking stools that he'd
brought down so he could reach the video cameras. He carried them back
to where the girl hung and positioned them about four feet apart, so
that she could plant one foot on each, but only by stretching her legs
far apart.

	Vicki lowered her chin and stared down at the stools. The
whole room looked strange from her unaccustomed vantage point. Her
eyes were several inches higher than Jameson's; in fact, she could
even see the thinning hair on the top of his head. He had put the
stools down where she could barely reach one with each foot -
deliberately, she was sure - and standing above him with her legs
spread that wide would make her feel even more exposed than she
already did. On the other hand, he'd already had plenty of chances to
see whatever he wanted to see, and her shoulders were killing her.

	Awkwardly Vicki stretched her right foot out to the side. She
missed the stool on her first try, and the movement started her
swinging like a pendulum. After several more attempts she managed to
brush the stool with her toes, but the momentum of her swing pulled
her away again. Wish tears of frustration and pain streaming down her
face, she begged Jameson to let her down some. He pushed the button
and the motor hummed for several seconds before he pushed the button
again and the sound stopped. This time Vicki was able to plant her
right foot on one stool, and from there it was an easy matter to get
her left foot on the other.

	She sighed with relief. The muscles running up the insides of
her thighs burned like she had done the splits without warming up, her
shoulders ached with the tension that was still being applied to her
arms, and the leather straps cut cruelly into her wrists, but it was
nonetheless a big improvement to have something under her feet again.

	By lowering her chin to her chest and rolling her eyes down,
Vicki could see the broad green line that meandered across the swell
of her breasts like a contour line on a map. Below that she saw the
line that crossed her abdomen, several inches below her belly button,
at the level of her hipbones on the side. That line was connected to
the two diagonal lines that skirted her honey-colored patch of pubic
hair and nearly converged before disappearing between her legs.

	Vicki hadn't understood Jameson's talk about another bikini,
and she'd really been mystified when he'd starting drawing those lines
on her. She hoped the ink would wash off when she got home. By that
time, she realized, she was probably going to have a bunch of new
welts on her ass - that whip looked really mean. But she could stand
that, just as she'd been able to force herself to stand everything
else Jameson had given her today.

	Despite her confidence, Vicki felt her legs tremble when
Jameson picked up the whip. "Now, Victoria, it's time for your new
bikini. Unlike the one you stole, this one will be permanent, because
instead of being made out of cloth, this bikini will be part of your
body's memory of the punishment I'm about to give you.

	As the significance of Jameson's words sank in Vicki began to
scream. She jerked frantically at the cable that held her arms above
her head, and leapt off the twin stools in order to close her legs.
Jameson watched her struggle helplessly for a minute before swatting
her sharply on the rump with his hand. "Shut up!" he yelled at her.

	Vicki fell silent and let herself dangle, twisting slowly at
the end of the cable. "You know that's not going to do any good," he
continued, more quietly, "and you might as well be as comfortable as
you can be." Vicki felt his hand between her knees, and then felt it
slide up, between her closed thighs, until the edge of it touched the
lips of her pussy. The hand exerted a gentle sideways pressure,
spreading her legs, and she stretched one foot out reluctantly and put
it back on the stool. The edge of his hand slid across her pussy and
applied pressure to the other thigh until she stretched the other foot
out to reach the other stool. Jameson's hand dropped then, but Vicki
could feel his touch on her hypersensitive pussy for long afterward.

	"That's better," Jameson told her. "Let's not have any more
hysterics like that."

	"But you said you were only going to spank me," Vicki
complained. "I don't mind if you whip me on the ass, but please,
please, nowhere else."

	"Would you wear a bikini that only covered your ass?" Jameson
demanded rhetorically. "Of course you wouldn't. Besides, I'm not
about to have your future behavior depend just on your memory of how
it feels to have your ass whipped." He circled her, the makeshift whip
in his hand.

	Vicki tried to follow his movements with her eyes. She didn't
want to be taken by surprise, although that didn't make a lot of
sense, because she had no idea what the whip would feel like anywhere
on her body; wherever Jameson chose to start, it was going to be
something of a surprise.

	Jameson stopped moving. He was standing about three feet away
from Vicki's left side, looking at her profile as he raised the whip.
Vicki shivered as goosebumps of anticipation rippled over her body.
From where Jameson stood, his whip could reach her ass, her stomach,
her back or her breasts, and she could only wait to find out which he
had chosen.

	Watching the way Jameson turned as he drew back his arm, Vicki
decided that he was going to use a forehand stroke, which meant either
her ass or her back. She heard the leather thongs hiss through the air
an instant before they bit into the skin of her back. Vicki heard her
scream building even as she realized that the thin strips of leather
were still moving, streaking under her left armpit and across the
outside of her left breast.

	Vicki howled as she twisted helplessly on the end of the
cable. She wasn't sure how the pain of the whip might compare with
that of the cane, for example, if both were on her ass. But the rest
of her body was totally unprepared for the pain that seared her back
and blistered the side of her breast. She lowered her eyes, hoping to
find out what marks the leather thongs had left on her breast, just in
time to see the same thongs grip her left nipple and fling her breast
sideways as Jameson's return stroke raked across her delicate flesh.

	Jameson circled a couple of steps to his left until he was
standing directly in front of the screaming girl. He flicked the whip
from left to right, watching the thongs streak from the outside of her
right boob, across both protruding nipples and over the diminishing
swell of the outer edge of the other boob. Each thong left a separate
red welt, and the girl was obviously feeling them all as she tried
belatedly to twist her upper body away from the whip. The girl's tits
stretched sideways with the momentum of her turn, and Jameson met them
with a return slice of the whip, lashing the thongs across the lower
surfaces of both boobs just below the nipples.

	The girl was in a frenzy of pain, shrieking as she twisted
from side to side and tried to jump up or down in futile efforts to
deflect the cutting thongs. Most of the pale skin that had been
bounded by the horizontal green stripes circling her chest had become
a fiery red by the time Jameson lowered his aim and lashed the thongs
across the girl's belly. Instantly a band of skin stretching from an
inch or two below her navel down into her golden bush turned livid
with the thin welts, and the girl tried vainly to suck her gut muscles
in at the same time her scream distended them.

	Jameson ignored the girl's frantic pleas as he administered
several diagonal lashes, paralleling the green stripes he'd drawn on
her abdomen. It was like using a crayon in the coloring books he'd had
as a child, he thought absurdly - make a nice dark color, but stay
inside the lines! He let the whip drop down, then snapped it straight
up. The girl's eyes bulged with terror as she realized where the
thongs were headed, but her reaction came too late to slow the twelve
whistling strands of leather. Several of the thongs forced their way
between the lips of her cunt while the others bit deeply into the
sensitive outer lips themselves.

	With a tremendous effort of will Vicki tensed her arms and
jerked herself into the air as the thongs of the leather whip raced
toward her pussy. She tried to lift her knees and turn them at the
same time, but Jameson had been too quick. Almost as if it were
happening in slow motion she felt one thong after another bite into
the most delicate flesh of her exposed body. Vicki knew her mouth was
wide open but no sound was emerging. Her legs fanned the air wildly as
the whip dropped toward the floor, then began to rise again.

	Both the pain and the electrifying thrill were infinitely
greater than when Jameson had whipped her pussy with the razor strap.
Vicki lowered her feet to the widely separated stools. A shuddering
"Ooohhh" was the only sound she made as relaxed her arms and sagged
against the restraining cable. She was dimly aware that Jameson had
moved behind her and was flogging the sides and back of her ass, but
was too enervated even to cry out until a series of upward sweeping
lashes grazed her pussy from the rear and tore their way between the
cheeks of her ass.

	Twice more Jameson circled her suspended form, scourging her
back, her sides, her boobs, her ass, laying new welts each time over
older ones, but only when the thongs cut directly between her thighs
did Vicki react as though the whip were more than an annoyance.
Finally Jameson dropped the whip on the floor and pushed the button to
begin lowering Vicki's cable. Her knees bent until she was almost
squatting on the twin stools before she seemed to realize what was
happening and clambered to the floor, her arms still pinioned above
her head.

	"Well, Miss Wilkins," Jameson told her, "I think we can say
that you've passed your course of instruction with, shall we say,
flying colors. Do you think you have learned your lesson once and for
all?" He unhooked the short chain that connected the wrist straps from
the hook on the end of the cable, and Vicki's arms dropped heavily.

	The force with which her bound hands crashed against Vicki's
bruised pubes seemed to waken her. "Oh," she said, looking vaguely at
Jameson. "Oh, yeah, sure. I've learned, I won't do it anymore."
Jameson unfastened the two wrist straps, and Vicki rubbed the chafed
skin. "Uh, can I go now?"

	Jameson nodded. Vicki reached for the emerald bikini where
Jameson had dropped it when he stripped it off her, but Jameson was a
step ahead of her. He snatched it off the floor. "In a sense," he
told Vicki, "I suppose that by now you've paid for this. I'll let you
take it with you, but you can wear your new bikini back to my office."

	Vicki shrugged and walked out the door. Jameson followed,
flipping off the camera switch before pulling the door closed behind
him. He watched her closely as she slowly climbed the chilly concrete
stairs. From a foot or two away it was obvious that she was nude - he
could see far too many details of her body for her to have even the
sheerest garment on - but from a distance of several feet it really
did look as though she were wearing a somewhat wrinkled reddish
bikini, the color of tomato soup, trimmed in green. He'd done a good
job of staying inside the lines.

	Back in Jameson's office Vicki slipped into her sundress and
sandals. The dress was cut low enough to show a few of the stripes
across the tops of her breasts, but there was no way she was going to
put her bra on over all those welts! She stuffed the bra and her
panties into her purse, remembering how she had done the same thing
the day she'd taken the bikini. It was hard to imagine that that had
been just last Monday! Jameson handed the bikini to her, and she
stuffed it into her purse on top of her underwear.

	"Good bye, Victoria," Jameson told her softly, "and good luck.
I hope to see you again under different circumstances."

	Vicki walked to the office door and opened it. "Good bye, Mr.
Jameson," she said over her shoulder. "I'm sure I will see you again -
under different circumstances."

	Five years passed before Vicki saw Jameson again, and the
circumstances were quite different. But that's a different story.