by Evans, Trent
Amity stiffened, looking over Dane’s head. “I’m choosing to be… punished.”
“Punished, how?”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m going to be… spanked.”
“That’s right, you are.” Dane slid his chair back and stood. He walked over to the door and locked it. He smiled, hearing her breath catch.
“What… are you doing?”
He turned back to her, hands on his hips. “I can leave it unlocked, if you’d like. Maybe Cathie might walk in while you’re being spanked? Is that what you want?”
“No!” She glanced down. “Sorry. No, sir.”
There it is again.
Just that one word had his cock hardening, and he hadn’t even started her spanking yet.
Dane pulled one of the conference room chairs out, dragging it to the middle of the open section of the floor under the big picture window.
“Come here, Amity.”
For a moment, it was as if her legs refused to obey, a halting, almost spasmodic movement. Then she inhaled deeply, lifted her chin, and walked to him.
He gazed at her, watching for any reaction, any hint that she’d lose her nerve. But he didn’t see it. All he saw were those big, beautiful eyes, wide with apprehension, the trembling of her upper lip. He took a seat, looking up at her.
“Lie across my lap.”
“Sir, please… “
“Looks like we need to go over some ground rules.” He gave her a smile. “Not too many, at first. But this first one is a big one.”
He watched the slender column of her pale throat work as she swallowed, her chest rising and falling faster now.
“When you’re being punished, you obey any instruction given you. Do you understand that?”
Her nod was a halting gesture, more a jerk of her head than an acknowledgment.
“Try again, Amity. That’s another rule. When you’re asked a question, you respond verbally.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.” Her hands twisted together in front of her, her eyes on the floor.
My God, she’s beautiful.
“Now that you’ve agreed to the rules, what are you supposed to do now?”
She looked up at him a moment, then dropped her eyes again, her cheeks flushing scarlet.
“I’m waiting, Amity.”
He held out a hand. That first feel of her soft, trembling palm was something he knew he’d never forget for the rest of his days. He held her hand as she awkwardly obeyed, laying a hand on his thigh first that made his balls tingle, before lowering herself over his lap, the feel of her slight weight so sweet he wanted to just have her lie there so he could savor it.
But it wasn’t time for that, not now anyway. He needed to get this over with for her.
“Put your hands on the floor, and they will not leave the floor until I tell you. Understand that?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He gave her creamy thigh a little slap, and she jerked. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
She sighed a little as he said it, the tension in her body lessening ever so slightly.
He laid a hand on her skirt-clad bottom, savoring every second of this first punishment of the wayward girl. He knew he had to get this right if he had any hope that this wouldn’t be the last. He squeezed the taut bottom, feeling the tension in her muscles.
“Ready, Amity?”
“Oh, God…” Her voice was almost a squeak, quavering.
He waited for her, caressing her bottom, as she struggled with it, with her active submission to her impending punishment.
“Yes, sir.”
He brought his palm down at a measured pace, giving her firm, but not harsh spanks at first, warming up that bottom on this inaugural spanking. She stayed remarkably still as he smacked one side, then the other, then aimed lower, hitting a little harder at the base of her lush bottom. She flinched a little at those blows, but stayed quiet. The skirt was thin, so he knew it wasn’t giving her much protection. Then he stopped, rubbing slow circles over her ass, loving the roundness of it, the broadness of her hips.
He ran a hand down her thighs until his fingers hooked under the hem of her skirt, drawing it up slowly. She tightened then.
“What are you…?”
“Taking your skirt up,” he said, skimming it up to the base of her bottom, revealing the lush, pale thighs. He paused a moment to stroke them, to savor their soft vulnerability, the way she hadn’t made a move to get off of his lap even as she protested. There was something else going on with the intriguing young woman, something deeper, and he looked forward to the day when he could find out just what that was.
“You never said anything about… that.”
“All spankings are taken on a bare bottom, Amity. I never punish on anything but the bare. It doesn’t even need to be said.” His hand on her thigh stilled. “You’re just going to have to accept that. Are you backing out now?”
He would let her go, even though he silently prayed she’d have the courage not to run, to face what she needed, what he suspected she—deep down—wanted. It wouldn’t be easy, but this—and their mutual discovery of what might lead from it—was something she had to choose. But once that choice was made, he intended to hold her to it. All of it.
“Well, are you?”
Amity’s body shuddered, her breath coming even faster. “I’m afraid.”
His hand stopped, and he caressed her bottom once more, his other hand stroking up and down her back, feeling the bra strap be longed to unsnap, but knowing it wasn’t time for it.
“What are you afraid of, Amity?”
“I’m afraid of the pain, and I’m afraid… of you.”
“A little bit of fear is good, if it gets you to start listening, to start doing as you’re told.” He rubbed lazy circles over her bottom, loving the way the skirt fell into the cleft of her ass, molding and displaying the shapes of the broad buttocks he was about to bare to his gaze. “And the pain will help you remember, will help you choose the correct path next time.”
And you’re going to enjoy it too, asshole.
Yes, part of him was going to enjoy that too—his cock was already hard against her hip at the prospect of the spanking to come—but there was nothing he could do about that. He knew she’d be able to feel the hard length of him against her. She’d know how this really affected him, no matter what he said, so there was no point in denying it.
“So are you backing out? This is your last chance.”
Please, God, don’t back out.
“N-no, sir.” Her body shifted over his lap, then she grew very still. “I’ll take my… punishment.”
Dane wanted to roar in triumph and joy, and he wanted to squeeze her in his arms, never let her go.
Settle down, pal.
“Please, not too hard,” she whispered. “I really am sorry.”
“I know you are, Amity.” His voice softened, and he gave her hip a gentle squeeze. “I know you can do this. Be brave now.”
“Yes, sir.”
He pulled the skirt the rest of the way over her bottom, bunching it at the small of her back, revealing the glorious globes already blushing pink from his little warm-up. Her bottom was even more gorgeous than her tight skirts had hinted at, the buttocks soft and round, the almost translucent paleness of her skin calling to him to caress it, which he did. She was wearing white lace boy shorts, which left the bottom half of her luscious buttocks bare, the snug lace perfectly accentuating and displaying the appealing lushness of her ass.
His cock throbbed harder against her hip, and she squirmed a little against it, letting him know she felt it. He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he massaged the weight of each cheek, giving each one a deep squeeze that made Amity exhale a long breath. His fingers stroked the crease between buttock and thigh, and she clenched, making a sound deep in her throat.
“No, no. Keep that bottom rela
xed.” He patted each cheek in gentle warning, and her buttocks loosened slowly. “That’s it, very soft, just relax. That’s right, stay very still. There you go.”
His fingers eased back along that crease until he could feel the heat of her sex.
Careful, Dane.
“Very pretty panties,” he murmured as he drew them down her thighs, revealing her bottom finally to his gaze, leaving the lace to bunch around her knees. He had to remember to breathe as he felt her bottom, squeezing again, taking a cheek in each hand and easing the buttocks apart, the humid, clean scent of her sex strong in his nostrils, the scent of her making his cock ache even more.
She was aroused! The knowledge of what that might mean made his head spin even as he inhaled deeply, making sure she knew he was doing it.
“Oh, my God,” Amity’s small voice whimpered. “Please…”
“Quiet,” he gently admonished, smiling. “Nothing to be ashamed of. It’s quite normal.”
Well, that wasn’t quite true. It was normal for a submissive to be aroused at the prospect of a hard spanking, but he wasn’t so sure it was normal for a girl who appeared to be completely new to the entire idea. It didn’t matter though; he drank it in either way, her shame at that realization making the whole process that much sweeter.
He let her bottom close, placing a palm firmly against the full lower curve of a soft buttock. “Ready, Amity?”
* * *
The feel of his hand on her bottom made her entire body vibrate—but with what exactly, she wasn’t sure. He held his big palm there, cupping her ass firmly. She knew he was waiting for her to say it, to give in, to absolve him of any guilt she fervently hoped he might be feeling for doing this to her.
Does he really need to feel guilt, Amity?
She hated that he was right—hated it—but it didn’t make it any less true. She did deserve this. And if it saved her job, she’d just have to suck it up and take it.
Of course, there was more to this—namely what he’d inhaled, what had her inner thighs slick—but she wasn’t ready to tackle the implications of what that meant. At least not quite yet.
“Ready,” she said, the soft, almost meek tone of her voice making her face flame anew.
“Good girl.”
Before she had a chance to feel that confusing little flare of arousal and happiness those two words elicited within her, his hand came crashing down on her bottom. Her body froze a moment, as if current was passing through her muscles, then the explosion of fire and the clap of the spank registered and she grunted.
Oh, fuck, that hurt!
He held his hand to her other cheek, waiting for God-knew-what. She trembled, waiting for it, the ass cheek he’d just hit throbbing angrily. She could almost visualize the growing palm print blooming across her skin.
Dr. McKendrick hit hard!
He smacked her again, lower down where her thigh and buttock met and she yelped, the pain there even worse, the force of the blow sending a disconcerting vibration through her core, reminding her again of the traitorous reaction of her body.
The blows came faster then, sometimes coming in rapid-fire volleys all over her bottom, and other times methodical, hard spanks to the same spot over and over that had her crying out with the hot pain of it.
The spanks stopped, that huge, hard hand moving in slow circles over the boiling cauldron of her buttocks while she tried to catch her breath, the burn building by the second.
“When you come to work, what do I expect you to be, Amity?”
For a moment, she wasn’t even sure he was speaking to her, the sound of her name pulling her out of her red haze of hurt and shame.
“I… on time. Sir.”
“That’s right.”
He began again, going slower this time, tapping her bottom each time as if taking aim, then slapping hard, his hand cupping her martyred flesh for a moment before pulling back to deliver another stinging blow. She yelped and moaned with each slap, trying to ignore the way her bottom jiggled at each harsh spank, knowing the kind of show she must be putting on for Dr. McKendrick. She’d always been self-conscious of her bottom, always considering it too big, dreading anytime she’d had to go to a beach or don a swimsuit.
Now, her bottom was laid bare for Dr. McKendrick’s enjoyment—and discipline. She could feel his erection against her hip as he jostled her effortlessly, tucking her closer while he continued to rain blows down across her ass, barking at her to stay still.
The merciless spanking continued as he growled at her. “What happens to girls who forget to schedule appointments, who come to work late, who don’t even try to do their best?”
Her vision began to blur as tears stung her eyes.
No, you’re not doing this, Amity. You’re not crying.
His hand pulled up one of her cheeks, exposing the tender flesh at junction of thigh and bottom, a hard smack landing and making her cry out. Then he did it again, harder, and she reached back then, the pain too much.
“Please, no more! It hurts!”
“Put that hand back on the floor, girl, or you’re going to get more,” he said, his voice even, but the steel still there, his hand raining spanks down on her burning bottom all the while.
She forced herself to do it, even as the first tear spilled, tracking down her cheek. She was biting her bottom lip so hard she was afraid she might bite through it if he kept at her.
Dr. McKendrick stopped once more and let her cry, the only sound her now open weeping, the sniffles of her nose. His fingers tested the swollen marks on her bottom, making her hiss with fresh blooms of pain. He murmured to her, the words incoherent, soothing, as if she were a fractious animal, unable to control her reactions to what he did to her.
Finally, she lay motionless over his lap, hoping he might be finished, but his hand cupped her bottom once more, caressing each buttock in turn, keeping the fire simmering in her flesh.
“You never answered my question, Amity.”
Oh, God, no more!
“I—I don’t remember, sir,” she said through her tears.
“What happens to girls who forget to schedule appointments, who come to work late, who don’t try their best?” His hand stilled, spanning the cleft of her bottom, her buttocks seeming to pulse with pain. “What do you think should happen?”
“They get… spanked.” She sniffled loudly. “Sir.”
“Yes, they do, and that will happen each and every time, as long as you work in this office. Do you understand me, Amity?”
“Yes, sir.”
And she really did. She had no doubt—none whatsoever—that this man would take her over his knee again and blister her ass even worse than he was doing at that very moment. She knew she should’ve been enraged, fighting him like a cat, threatening, promising to ruin him, to cut his balls off. That’s what she’d always been taught, right? To never let a man take from her, never let herself be subordinate to male authority?
None of that shit mattered right now though.
What did matter was that a small part of her she didn’t even realize existed, felt some sense of… rightness, about what this was. Her guilt was strong, and somehow—though she knew it was probably insane—this assuaged it a little. Was it penance? Did she have daddy issues she’d long suppressed, only to be brought to the surface by this dominant male of her illicit fantasies, with hands of steel and huge erection to match, bending her will to his?
Or was it the fact her pussy was so wet she was positive her juices were running off her inner thighs and staining the dark gray of his slacks?
Stop. Don’t go there, Amity.
She froze as his hand moved down her bottom to stroke her tender thighs menacingly, his fingertips easing between her legs as he caressed, then back down her legs, her bottom throbbing angrily.
“Please, sir. No more… hurts.”
She wiped tears from her cheeks, and didn’t even want to think about what a mess her face probably was by that point.
But he i
gnored her words, pressing his palm to her thigh, just below her bottom, and she gulped, knowing what was coming.
“These last ones will be the worst. I want to make sure you’ve learned your lesson tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
Then the slaps rained down upon her thighs, marching first up one, then down the other, each burning stroke drawing a cry from her raw throat, her head thrown back, her legs kicking. After the third stinging smack, she reached back again, the pain too much.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he murmured, an odd sort of pleasure in his low voice.
He caught up both her wrists and pinned them in one of his hands, pressing them hard to the small of her back as she wept anew, the tears dripping to the green pile carpet below, a strand of her hair that had come loose during her struggles now wet with her tears too.
“God, it… fucking hurts! Please!”
“Watch that mouth, young lady,” he said sharply, cracking a particularly hard slap across her lower thigh that made her scream. The pain was so much worse on her thighs, and she found she couldn’t handle it at all, a pain she’d never experienced, or imagined, before.
“I’m so sorry, sir. Please stop. Please…” she said, dissolving into sobs now, her body going limp again, all the tension, the nerves, the anxiety pouring out of her now in a burst of emotion she was completely unprepared for. It was almost as if she were floating above herself, watching his remorseless hand cracking across her sore and reddened flesh, wondering what had caused her to lose all control, to surrender to the pain, the sensation that seemed to swamp all her awareness.
Then he stopped, rocking slowly back and forth as he let her cry, still holding her wrists firmly in his grasp, the other hand stroking over the angry hurt of her thighs, then up to the inflamed buttocks, circling then easing down the other. He kept at her this way, and Amity lost track of exactly how long she’d been draped over those hard thighs. He murmured to her, cooing and making shushing sounds, the words incoherent, not needing to mean anything, the kind, soothing tone everything. Eventually her sobs died to sniffles, and a great, sinking fatigue consumed her, her awareness hazy at the edges, his hand continuing its slow course over her throbbing flesh, his once punishing touch now almost comforting.
