Kept in line

“Please…” she whined to no effect, “Please, no more…”

Her crimson buttocks felt like they were pulsating, sending waves of rich, hot pain up her spine with each of her shallow breaths. She swallowed and pleaded again, hearing no response. She didn’t dare look back, but she knew that the paddle was high in the air, just about to come dow—

“Oww!” she yelped as the hard wood connected with her bruised flesh once more. Tears streamed down her face, dripping over the desk. Her boss’ desk. He was mad. he was more than mad; he was furious. She had messed up. Again.

“OWW!” she cried, louder, another hard swat landing on her tender, plump bottom. For a few seconds, the pain became her whole world; it was all that she could think of. Then, it receded, leaving her ass burning, her legs trembling… and her panties wet.

She didn’t argue, because she knew that it was futile. When he had called her in his office, there had been no ambiguity as to her fate. She had walked in expecting to be punished, and she knew that she deserved it. She had closed the door behind her, and started to undress without a word. She had been through it a few times already.

It had started with a playful joke one day, about how she had messed up with a client. Her boss had been understanding, but she had carried on telling him how bad she felt, how guilty. He had brushed it off at first, until she had said these fateful words, as a jest: “Sometimes I wish I could get spanked again!”

He had raised an eyebrow, and she had let a little embarrassed laugh out.

“What do you mean, Caroline?” he’d asked, softly. She had instantly turned into a stuttering mess, cheeks as red as a ripe tomato.

“I… Hum… My mother, she… She used to spank me, you know? And, well, it wasn’t pleasant, but at least I didn’t feel the guilt anymore afterwards.”

“I see…” he had simply answered. He had kept his eyes on her, and she had carried on. She wasn’t sure why she had kept talking then, but the words had just kept spilling from her mouth.

“It’s… It’s like, cathartic, the punishment, the… pain… It takes the guilt away. Well, it did then…”

He had nodded. She had stared at the floor. She couldn’t look at him.

“And so… Caroline…”

“Yes sir?”

“You think a spanking would help you do a better job with the next client?”

Her eyes had widened. That little off-hand joke hadn’t seemed like a joke anymore. It had seemed very, very real. That day, she had received her first proper spanking as an adult, right there over her boss’ lap. As she had been quietly weeping in the corner afterward, he had defined a few rules. First, this was purely disciplinary, he was faithful to his wife, thank you very much. As such, she would get to keep her panties. She thought it a little odd, and a little hypocritical, but was in no position to argue ethics.

Second, any further punishment would increase in severity, going from hand-spankings to hairbrushes, paddles, the cane… She had shivered. And for a time, it had kept her on the straight and narrow. Then mistakes had happened. She had been late finishing a report. She had overslept and missed an early appointment. Paperwork got filed in the wrong place…

True to his word, he had summoned her in his office each time, and each time, the punishment had been more severe. And as much as she dreaded it, she knew she needed it, the discipline, the atonement. She needed it and desired it. Not enough to make her make mistakes on purpose, no! But she loved how it pushed her to do better. And indeed, after each session, she knew that her work got better. For a time, she was a model employee, employee of the month even! And then the slip started again. A little longer each time, knowing that the punishment would get harsher, but it always happened.

And so, as the paddle slammed into her ass once more, leaving a deep red mark, she cried her shame out and let the guilt leave her. The hard wood fell again, making her yell. No walls were thick enough to keep people from hearing, she was sure of it. Her panties were drenched —so much for keeping it modest— and she was heaving, sobbing, sniffling between each hard slap.

She knew she would be forgiven but— OWW!

She knew she deserved it and— OOWW!!

She knew she would be better, she would— OWW!!

She clenched her buttocks, knowing full well it would do nothing. She could feel the bruises coming, she imagined the marks. She bit her lip, waiting for the next one.

Nothing came.

“Get up, Caroline,” he boss said.

In her heels and underwear, she made her way to the corner, knowing what was expected of her. She would stay put while he fixed her mistake, her fingers interlocked above her head. No more mistakes, she silently vowed, no more screw ups. And for a time, she knew she wouldn’t. She closed her eyes and let the pain radiating from her crimson ass fill her mind.

Advent 5 – Christmas Party

It was the day of the Christmas party at the office, and Helen had come dressed for it in a short, red dress and Santa hat. She liked to turn heads, and the dress clung to her curves, plentiful as they were. She had decided that the dress was too tight for a bra or panties, and she was only wearing a pair of tights underneath it, much to her delight. Office life could be dull, and she liked to spice it up.

She was having a flirty conversation with John from accounting (or was it sales?) when she heard her name being called. She turned around to see her line manager, furiously coming towards her, holding his phone to his ear and a wad of papers in his other hand. She excused herself and mouthed ‘What?’ to Ben, her boss. He lifted a finger, telling her to wait, and pressed mute on his phone.

‘In my office. Now.‘ he said, ominously.

She blushed at the tone, and followed him in. There was another man there, waiting for them. He turned around, revealing himself to be the CEO of the company. Her dress suddenly felt very short, and she tugged on it. The door closed with a clack that sent a shiver up her spine.

‘Mr. Jacobs!’ she said, ‘it’s a—

‘Take a seat, Helen,’ Ben interrupted. He pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk. Mr Jacobs remained standing, eyeing her up and down. She blushed and did as she was bidden. Suddenly, the hat felt very silly. This didn’t look like a merry occasion. She didn’t dare move to remove it, and she felt her cheeks blushing to match the stupid hat’s colour.

‘Do you know why you’re here, Miss Clemens?’ Mr Jacobs asked. His voice was soft, gentle even, but she could tell by the steely gaze of his blue-grey eyes that he was anything but.

‘I…’ she hesitated, trying to think of what could have landed her in such a meeting. Ben, her manager, turned from the window where he was finishing his phone conversation, and put his phone on the large, glass desk that throned in the middle of the room. The view outside was gorgeous, and she noticed none of it, flinching instead as the phone thudded on the glass.

‘I… I have no idea, Mr Jacobs, S-Sir,’ she stammered.

He rolled his eyes and tutted in annoyance. He waved a hand for Ben to take over and went to the window to admire the view, his hands joined behind his back.

‘Helen,’ Ben said, ‘You’ve been here what, five years now?’

‘Six…’ she said, sheepishly.

‘Six years. That’s a long time, isn’t it? That shows commitment, that shows loyalty.’

‘Y-yes Sir…’

‘And in turn, you have been treated well here, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Of course, Sir!’

‘We are a forward-thinking, modern company, with values we’re proud of, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘Yes, Sir, I agree…’ she said, completely lost as to where he was going with that.

‘And one of these values,’ Mr Jacobs said, still looking out, ‘is a zero-tolerance policy towards sexual harassment in our offices.’

‘Sex-sexual harassment? Sir?’ Helen blushed, and tugged on her dress, biting her lip.

‘Four colleagues, Helen! It’s all in there!’ Ben said, loudly, shaking the papers. ‘How long did you think you would get away with it?’

‘But… Sir..’

Spanking the members of your team, Helen? Is that what you consider acceptable behaviour in this company?’

She said nothing, staring at the floor.

‘And taking pictures as well! You thought they wouldn’t dare report you! Well! HR has a pretty clear-cut case!’

‘B… b-ut…’ she stuttered, ‘they all agreed to it in… in writing when they joined my t-team and…’

‘You can’t make them sign a piece of paper and get away with something like this!’ Mr Jacobs said, his tone icy.

Chewing her lip, Helen’s gaze stayed down.

However,’ Ben said, ‘Given your track record, and given that you seemed to treat them well in every other respect, they have accepted to drop their complaint under one condition.’

‘One con-condition, S-sir?’ she said, looking up.

‘Unsurprisingly,’ Ben continued, ‘They want what happened to them to happen to you. They are willing to drop the claim if you submit yourself to a spanking of your own.’

Her eyes opened wide. ‘But… Sir…’ she said, her voice trembling.

‘Mr Jacobs and I will administer it. Your other option is to be fired for gross misconduct, with no severance pay and possible civil lawsuit. Your choice, Helen.’

‘I would say I’m sorry, Miss Clemens’ said Mr Jacobs, ‘but you clearly brought that on yourself.’

Helen thought of her skimpy dress, and the panties that she was not wearing. Surely there was another way. She looked at them in turn. She felt her world crumbling.

‘And… And if I accept?’

‘Then you will keep you position. With a different team, of course, and a year on probation.’

‘That… That’s it?’

‘We reward loyalty, and results, Miss Clemens,’ Mr Jacobs said with a dry smile.

He shoulders dropped and she nodded.

‘Do you accept the terms?’

‘Yes…’ she said, tears in her eyes.

Having signed a waiver without even reading it, she bent over the desk as Mr Jacobs instructed. She could feel her dress riding up and had no doubt the two men would soon be able to appreciate how little she was wearing underneath her already skimpy dress.

The first slap got her by surprise, and she let a little cry out. More soon followed, and she grabbed the other end of the desk, screwing her eyes shut not to yelp with each heavy slap. Soon, her bottom was warm, burning, and she was having a hard time trying not to kick her legs. Both men stayed silent, letting the noise of the barely muffled slaps fill the office. She knew people outside could hear them. She just knew, and her shame was instantly multiplied.

After what felt like an eternity, the slaps stopped. Her bottom was on fire, and tears had long ruined her make-up, pooling on the glass desk. She heard Ben say, ‘I think you should have a go, Sir…’ The relief she had felt at the pause vanished when she heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone. No no no no no… she thought. All of a sudden, she felt like a child again, like the bratty teenager she had been, coming home late to find the belt waiting for her. She shivered. Right when she thought things couldn’t be worse, she felt a hand grabbing the end of her dress and pulling it up to her waist.

There was a silent instant when time seemingly froze as the men realised quite what they were looking at. She felt a pang of desire and knew that she was wet as could be. Mortified, she buried her head in her hands, sobbing.

If she thought that would mollify the CEO, she thought wrong. The belt came whipping down a few seconds later, and she couldn’t help but yell loudly. A second smack of the belt fell down on her crimson bottom, and a third. By the fourth, she wasn’t trying to stifle her yelling anymore, and she was panting, trying to catch her breath between each agonising strike. She clenched and unclenched her buttocks, hoping to attenuate the pain, but the belt bit like a firebrand every time.

After twenty lashes, her tights were torn, and she felt like she had cried every tear in her body. Ten lashes later, she could barely stand on her trembling legs, and she was repeating ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ between sobs.

Finally, it stopped. She stayed down on the desk, her legs spread, her lips parted, dripping. She didn’t even care anymore. It was finally over. And it hurt, It hurt more than she thought it could. Her bottom hurt, her eyes, her thighs, the shame hurt. But at least it was over.

‘Now,’ Ben said, ‘as stipulated in the document you signed earlier…’ he unzipped her dress and passed it over her head, ‘You are going to stand in the corner of the open space for the duration of the office party.’

‘Merry Christmas!’ Mr Jacobs said.

Clumsy Tamika

Tamika turned around and reached for a box of products she was to put in the display window of the department store. As she did so, her round hips slammed into one of the shelves, sending it crashing down with a thunderous bang. Reaching to try and save any of it, she banged her elbow into the second display shelf, sending it down as well. All the intricate, delicately arranged displays, hours of effort, lay ruined on the floor. The other employees shook their heads and facepalmed. This wasn’t the first time she’d had an ‘accident’. The manager, Mr Jones, walked up to the bashful Tamika, who stood frozen in the middle of the mess she’d created.

“Enough is enough!” said Mr. Jones, his tone sharp and angry “Tamika, follow me to me office.”

“Oh, but Sir…”

“No ‘buts’, young lady, I’ve had quite enough of your excuses!”

The young girl looked down and twisted her fingers, looking for something to say, something to save her from what she knew was to come. The other employees had warned her: Mr Jones, as nice and fair a boss as he was, was pretty old-school when it came to discipline. They had told her he routinely spanked employees if they messed up. Surely, she had thought, they had been messing with her. Surely, it was just a prank to scare the newbie… Surely…

Hesitantly, she followed Mr Jones to his office, and closed the door that displayed a gold-lettered ‘Manager’ sign behind her. She was blushing, feeling scared and ashamed. Mr Jones had been very kind to her, patient despite her repeated mistakes. Now he seemed really cross. Even then, she couldn’t deny a certain attraction towards him. She’d always like authority; she liked to know her place in the world and being told what to do eased her anxiety. Still, her clumsiness had, once again, landed her in trouble.

Mr Jones pulled an object out of the top drawer of his desk and set it down on said desk with a wooden, heavy thud.

“Do you know what this is, Tamika?”

Her eyes widened.

“Hum… A… A paddle, Sir.”

“A paddle, exactly. Were you ever spanked before?”

“Sp-spanked, Sir? I… Hum… No, no, never…”

“Well, I’m sure I don’t need to draw you a picture…”

“But Sir, you’re not… I mean, you can’t—”

“Can’t I? As I see it, this is very simple, Tamika. Either you take responsibility for your actions and accept your punishment, or you can go find another job.”

“No Sir, please! I love this job! But please…. That… That would be so humiliating…”

He nodded. “Yes. And hopefully that’ll stick with you.”

“I…”

“I’m not going to say it again. The spanking or the door, your decision.”

She hesitated, thinking about her job, her colleagues, her future, weighing her mistakes against the utter humiliation of being spanked like a little misbehaving brat. Then again, she had been careless —again— and she was ashamed of herself. She looked up at him, his groomed beard and neat, pulled back dreadlocks a picture of fatherly authority. She felt… something in her stomach, a mix of fear and desire. She bit her lip and looked down.

“I don’t want to lose my job…” she finally said.

Mr Jones nodded. “Very well then, I think you’re making the right decision.” He pointed at her, “Take your shirt and skirt off,” he said.

“But Sir… Mr Jones, please…”

“No arguing, Tamika! You’re not the first I’ve had to bring here for a ‘talk’”

“Yes, Sir…” she mumbled softly, and slowly unbuttoned her shirt. Her skirt was next, and she stood in front of him in her unflattering underwear, her cheeks already burning with humiliation. She felt tears welling in her eyes when she looked at the paddle again. Her hands behind her back, she tugged at the band of her panties, pulling them up in the vain hope of covering her large, round buttocks a little more. The fabric tensed between her legs and she felt a shiver of pleasure running up her spine.

Sitting in his office chair, he beckoned her over, and she came, submissively, to lay across his lap. His hand held her at the waist, firm, warm. She closed her eyes and tears rolled down her cheeks. She deserved to be punished, she knew it. The first blow of the paddle came as she was about to say how sorry she was. Instead, she moaned loudly and kicked her legs. The paddle came down again, slapping across her round ass, setting it on fire. She gritted her teeth, trying to keep as quiet as she could. With each of the hard, heavy hits that followed, she felt the guilt leaving her, the pain washing it all way. The paddle fell again and again, and the more she hurt, the better she felt. Tears were rolling freely down her cheeks, and she sobbed with abandon, having never felt that relieved despite the shame, the humiliation, and the pain.

When her bottom felt like it couldn’t take any more of a beating, Mr Jones finally relented, and let her go. He directed her to the corner, where she stayed a long while, her hands over her head. Thoughts were racing through her head. She felt like the greatest weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She felt liberated. She knew now that there would be consequences for her mistakes. She didn’t have to internalise all the guilt anymore. She didn’t have to do it alone. She dared a glance back at Mr Jones, who was busy working at his desk. Her bottom was still burning hot. She loved it.