Gaëlle P.

Words of wisdom… And a picture to celebrate the many benefits that friendship can bring 😉

On a more personal note, it’s always fun to work with people to commemorate special times in their life, or to surprise a friend/partner with some naughty fun ^^

Horoscope

“Is it… Is it really necessary, Sir?” Ryleigh asked, her panties only slightly pulled down, the elastic band taught in her fingers.

“Down they go, Ryleigh,” he said firmly. Mr Wright was not in the habit of repeating himself.

“But it’s so… humiliating,” she pleaded, “I’m in my underwear already, surely that is—”

“Did I ask for an opinion, or did I ask you to take your panties off, young lady?” came the reply, cutting her short.

“Yes, Sir,” she mouthed, and she felt the caress of the fabric on her long, shapely legs as the panties fell to the floor. Despite her embarrassment —or was it because of it? — she shivered.

Without another word, he indicated his lap and, blushing red, she shuffled towards him and her impending punishment. “This can’t be happening”, she thought. And yet, it was. A spanking, she was going to get a spanking like a misbehaving child, her bottom bared for her boss to see and punish as he saw fit.

This was not how she had pictured the day going. In fact, according to the horoscope that she was reading with her breakfast that morning, it was going to be “a day to try new things”. That had sounded exciting then! On her way to work, she had decided to take that advice to heart and instead of her usual black coffee, no sugar, no milk, thank you very much, she had even ordered a fancy, multisyllabic, sort-of-Italian-sounding monstrosity of a drink. Sipping on the surprisingly tasty sugary drink, she had wondered what else she might discover she liked that day.

The morning had been her usual mix of boring admin and exciting gossip with Samantha, who always had the tea to spill. Mr Wright had fired his assistant; she had told him. Apparently, said assistant had made a mess of a big client’s account, and Mr Wright had had to spend two days patching things up. But that was not the juicy part! According to Samantha —who had a reputation for embellishing the truth for dramatic effect, in all fairness—, Mr Wright had given her assistant a choice: being fired on the spot, and possibly sued by the company, or receiving a punishment and being let go with a generous severance package. Giggling like a schoolgirl at a sleepover, Ryleigh had asked Samantha what she meant by “a punishment”, to which the latter had answered, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “A big ol’ fashioned spanking!”

Ryleigh had laughed out loud at the absurdity. Samantha really had a wild imagination, but she was good fun.

Later that day, a company-wide email had been sent, advertising the position of Mr Wright’s assistant. It came with quite a few benefits, flexible hours, and a big pay increase. Ryleigh remembered the horoscope. “A day to try new things.” Maybe that was the opportunity she had been waiting for? After all, there was nothing to lose. Gathering her courage, she had gone and knocked on Mr Wright’s door.

She estimated that he was in his early 40s, with dark hair just starting to turn grey. Tall, athletic, she had never seen him in anything but smart clothes, even on casual Fridays. Mr Wright was someone who took pride in his work, and who expected a lot of those under him. Samantha had told her that she had tried to invite him on a date —such a Samantha thing to do—, but he had told her that he had, quote, “no time for dating.” Not that that had stopped Samantha trying again several times, but to no avail.

“Ah, Ryleigh, is it?” Mr Wright had said as he opened the door to his office to let her in. She had been pleasantly surprised that he even knew who she was. “Yes, Sir,” she’d said, feeling like a schoolgirl in front of a headmaster. “I would like to apply for the position…”

“Of course, of course”, he’d said, sitting down behind his impeccably kept desk. In fact, the entire office was tidy. There was not a scrap of paper out of place, the books on the shelves were organised alphabetically, the plants symmetrically arranged on the windowsill. “Well,” he continued, “we can certainly give it a go today and see how it goes. But I have to warn you: I have high expectations. If you are not prepared to give this your all, then I would not bother trying.”

She had nodded, “Of course, Sir, I wouldn’t expect anything else!”

“I can assume you have read the job description and all its conditions?” he asked.

“Yes of course.” She hadn’t, really, not all of it. It was a PA job, nothing too novel, and the tasks and duties were the normal fare. Or so she had thought.

“Perfect, let’s sign your contract and you can begin your trial period, shall we?”

And just like that, she had become Mr Wright’s assistant. That had been four hours previously.

The memories still rushing through her mind, she lowered herself onto his lap, trying to ignore the shame, the mere idea that she was laying over her boss’ lap, her bare bottom on display… All that she was wearing now were a pair of high heels and her bra. Her skirt and blouse were on the desk, neatly folded. Her panties were still on the floor where they had fallen off her legs. Somehow, it was worse than being naked. She shivered again. His hand felt warm against her waist where he held her in place. She could smell his cologne, and she caught herself thinking that it smelled quite nice, like Samantha had said it did. “What the hell is wrong with me?” she thought, “Of all the things to be thinking of…”

Her train of thought was immediately interrupted as his other hand tapped her perky bottom a few times, surprisingly gentle. “Was that it, then? Had it all been a big joke to see how far she would go? That was quite—” His hand slammed into her bottom, and she let out a loud cry. The pain was as immediate as it was searing.  Without giving her time to catch her breath, another slap came down, targeting her other cheek, then came another, and another, and one more, relentless, heavy, painful slaps that made her kick her legs and brought tears to her eyes.

The new job had started easily. Her task had been to get acquainted with the accounts that her new boss was handling personally. Ryleigh an eye for detail, numbers, facts, and she was eager to please. Within the hour, she had written a memo detailing the most important aspects of each client, and he had praised her on her diligence. She had even found an error that the previous assistant, Clara, had made. He had muttered something about Clara getting off easy, but she had not dared enquire further. Ryleigh was positively glowing. This was going to be a great career move; she was sure of it. Then things had started to get more complex, and she had made a few mistakes. Nothing big: typos, files in the wrong folder, or in the wrong order. Mr Wright hadn’t said anything bad to her then, but simply tutted as he had rearranged the pages or pointed the mistakes. Blushing, she had made all the changes immediately, of course. Thinking back, the blushing had been foreshadowing, it seemed. From then, it had only gotten more complex, and she found herself struggling to keep up with the amount of detail that she was expected to remember. But all would have been fine if not for the email. The one email that clearly said “confidential”, the same email that had now been forwarded to the company’s entire mailing-list. The problem with working for people high up at a company was that mistakes came with a lot more consequences, as she had been about to painfully find out.

The moment the send confirmation sound had pinged off the computer, she had known that she was in trouble. Blushing still, head bowed and eyes wet with incoming tears, she had knocked softly on Mr Wright’s door. He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t needed to. She knew that she was going to be fired, that was clear. Not even half a day into the job, and she had made the biggest blunder of her career.

“You know what your contract says,” he had said, an affirmation rather than a question.

“A-about termination?” she had said, sheepishly.

“About dealing with grave misconduct or severe mistakes.”

“I…” she had hesitated, “I don’t…”

“Let’s have a look again, shall we?”

And there it was, black on white, with her signature right underneath: “In case of gross negligence, the employee acknowledges that they will submit themselves to corporal punishment, namely one (1) bare bottomed spanking taken over the knees of their direct line manager.”

Her eyes had widened as she had read and re-read the passage several times. It couldn’t be true. And yet, that was the contract that she had signed. She had swallowed, not daring to look Mr Wright in the eyes, and thought of Samantha’s silly gossip. Not so silly after all…

“I think that is pretty clear, yes?” he had asked.

“I-I…” she had stammered.

“To be clear, you are not being fired, miss Collins.”

“I… I’m not?”

“No, but you understand that mistakes must have consequences.”

“Yes but… A spanking, Sir?”

“A time-tested method, absolutely.”

“But Sir…”

“It’s your career and your reputation on the line, Ryleigh. I would rather shoulder the responsibility for that mistake and keep you as my assistant, but I cannot tolerate mistakes going unpunished.”

“Is that… Is that what happened to Clara? Did she choose not to be punished like… that?”

“Clara was… How could I put it… Clara kept a tube of soothing cream in her desk drawer.”

“For…”

“For her bottom, yes… That’s how often it had to happen. I do not think you will need it quite as much…”

“I…”

“Unless you’d rather walk out the door and pack your things, that is entirely up to you…”

“No I…”

A day to try new things, the horoscope had said. That was all bollocks, right? Stars didn’t really control anything… And yet, here she was, pondering whether a spanking was so bad after all…

Without a word, she had nodded.

“Right!” he had said, slapping his thigh and getting up from behind the desk. “Your skirt and blouse, if you please,” he had continued.

“Ex-excuse me?” she had stuttered, getting more flustered by the minute.

“It’s standard procedure… Blouse and skirt off.”

She hadn’t even thought of protesting further. She had already accepted her fate, what more was that now? With trembling fingers, she had unbuttoned her blouse, and folded it on the desk. Her pencil skirt had been next, and within a minute, she was standing in her underwear in front of Mr Wright, her boss. “What would Sam give to be in that position?” she thought. It almost made her grin. Almost.

Then he had said it. “Your panties too, Ryleigh. It’s a bare bottomed spanking.”

“Is it… Is it really necessary, Sir?”

The slaps kept coming and coming. The tears were freely rolling down her blushing cheeks now, and the burn form her bottom was overwhelming all her senses. Seeing that the only effect kicking her legs had had was to make him spank her harder, she had stopped struggling within minutes of the spanking starting, and had now fully submitted herself to his discipline.

“I expect you to learn from this!” he was saying, and in her mind, she was answering “Yes! Yes, I will!” But all that came out of her mouth were sobs and little cries of pain. She couldn’t see, but she imagined her bottom was crimson by now. She didn’t think she would be able to sit in days.

“With Clara, I had to resort to using a wooden paddle…” he continued, half-comment, half-warning.

She couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. That alone had her promise herself to never have a slip-up that bad again. There were mysteries that were best left alone, and the feeling of a paddle on her bare cheeks was definitely one of them.

After a few more interminable minutes of agony, shame, tears and a good deal of pleading for it to stop, Mr Wright finally did so. She didn’t dare get up, in case he was just taking a break, but a few gentle taps gave her the go-ahead. She got herself up, then let him guide her to the corner of his office were she naturally found herself, hands on her head. Despite never having been punished before, it had seemed like a natural continuation to the punishment. A moment to reflect and gather herself while her bottom cooled. As she would later discover, Clara had left her cream in the desk, a fact that she would be forever thankful for.

Years later, and after many more spankings of varying intensity over Mr Wright’s lap, Ryleigh found herself in the corner once again, and randomly thought back to that silly horoscope, on that fateful day. A day to try new things, it had said, and, thinking about it, it was probably the best advice she’d ever gotten.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!

Remember, what happens in Supermac’s stays in Supermac’s!

Have a good time, everyone, and enjoy the craic (and the buttcraic, in this case!)

Is breá liom sibh go léir!

Asking for it

I’m not saying that she was asking for it, but as I closed the door to our tiny apartment, she was lying over the back of the sofa, her tight skirt-clad bottom gently swaying up in the air, enticing me, beckoning me over. Next to her, precariously balanced on the back of the sofa was a hairbrush, a silicon spatula and a belt, waiting for me. From the tightness of her skirt, I could see that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. She didn’t say a word and shook her bottom a little more, as if a taunt.

Not one to go against her wishes, I uncuffed my shirt and rolled up its sleeves. I appreciate comfort, you see, and I didn’t want to give her a subpar performance. After all, she had gone through all that trouble to… lie around waiting for me, I guess. There probably were a hundred reasons for her to deserve a spanking, and, truthfully, I didn’t really need to know which one had brought that about right then and there.

Instead, I put the tip of my fingers in the small of her back, and felt her shiver. A small moan escaped from her lips, and I noticed that she was wearing a blindfold. One hand still on her back, the other slid across the skirt and cupped her round cheeks. She shook her bottom a little more, pushing it into my hand. I went down to her thighs and caressed them, seemingly at random, losing my hand between them. Her breathing was getting harder already, and she spread her legs a little.

Bending down, I laid a soft kiss on her right cheek, then immediately followed with a hard slap that pushed her hard against the back of our sofa. She cried out, but said nothing more. I spanked her left cheek just as hard, and she pressed herself against the sofa again. She raised her bottom up, tiptoeing in her heels, wordlessly begging for more. Being a gentleman, I obliged.

Slap after slap, she cried and moaned and heaved. At some point, her skirt had come up, revealing that I had indeed been right and that no underwear was to be found underneath it. Her pearly white cheeks had gone to pink, to red, to bright, deep crimson. I could see that her blindfold was getting wet, and that she was biting her lips not to cry harder. Between her thighs, the pearling wetness was an invitation and I couldn’t help but slide my fingers over it, caressing, probing, and teasing her. She pressed her legs shut and pushed her bottom out. Clearly, it wasn’t time for that yet. I grabbed the hairbrush.

Later, finally satisfied, she ripped the blindfold off, panting. On trembling legs, she got up. Without looking at me, she started walking towards our bedroom. Then, looking back over her shoulders and with her tongue licking her lips, she asked:

“Well? Is that all you’ve got?”

Rien de rien

« T’abuses…

— Moi j’abuse ?

—Voui…

—Et en quoi, s’il te plait ?

—Euh, mes fesses ? 

—Oui, et ?

—Et tes mains qui les tapent, mes fesses !

—Je vois toujours pas en quoi j’abuse ?

—J’ai rien fait !

—Ah oui ?

—Rien…

—Ah bah c’est un comble… 

—Bah oui, hein… Cette fessée, là, c’est de l’abus !

—Mmmhm… »

Sa main s’abat une fois de plus sur la croupe déjà rougie de la demoiselle.

« Mais arrête ! 

—De ?

—De me fesser !

—Non.

—Mais… !

—Mais rien du tout, Julie. »

Une autre claque, plus forte.

« Mais si ! Arrête ! J’ai rien fait !

—On est d’accord.

—Tu te fiches de moi, Thomas ??

—Ah non, je te prends très au sérieux, ma chérie… »

Il attrape sa culotte et la baisse en deux mouvements secs qui font rebondir les petites fesses de sa victime. Elle s’agite et remue, ce qui ne fait qu’amplifier le spectacle qu’il apprécie. Il la fesse de nouveau, à pleine main, laissant une marque brûlante. Elle gémit.

« Maaaais ! C’est pas juuuuste ! 

—Tu n’as rien fait, oui oui…

—Alors arrête !

—Non.

—Thomas…

—Tu n’avais rien à faire ?

—Quoi ? »

La claque la fait bondir. Sur le haut des cuisses, sèche et soudaine.

« Tu m’avais promis que tous tes dossiers seraient bouclés, oui ? »

Elle ne dit rien. Une autre claque. Une autre, cinq, dix.

« Oui ! 

—Oui quoi, Julie ? 

—Oui, j’avais promis… 

—Et ?

—…

Et ?

—J’ai rien fait…

—Vu le pot de glace vide, les canette de coca et l’état du salon, t’as passé la journée devant la télé, je me trompe ?

—Non…

—Non quoi ?

—Non tu te trompes pas… 

—Et donc, cette fessée, tu la mérites ?

—Bah oui mais…

—Mais quoi ?

—C’est pas de ma faute…

—Ah oui ?

—C’est de la faute à Netflix…

—Ah ça, quand tes fesses seront de la couleur du logo, on verra ce que t’en dis ! »

Elle fait la moue.

« Tu vas pas annuler l’abonnement, hein ?

—Oh non, t’en fais pas, tu regardes tes séries, et moi je profite d’un autre spectacle… »

Sa main frappe, Juli sens ses fesses qui gigottent. Clairement, il y gagne, le saligaud.

Happy Valentine’s

If I take you over my knee
And punish you mercilessly
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I spank you with hand and brush
And make both pairs of your cheeks blush
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I cane your trembling bottom
The colour of leaves in autumn
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I promise I’ll make you cry
While telling you exactly why
Will you be mine?
Will you be mine?

If I promise to hold you tight
And hold you close throughout the night
Will you be mine, will you opine?
Love, will you be my Valentine?