by Sarah Veitch
'I'll remember to tell future tourists about the timeshare touts!' she gasped to fill the embarrassing silence.
'This thrashing will make sure you do,' Richard Keat said.
Fay nibbled at her lower lip as she felt her flesh being divested of its pants. Now her employer was staring down at her little rotundities.
'I'm going to turn cafe au lait into red wine,' he said, kneading her lightly-tanned skin. She felt him shift a little as he moved his palm back then it connected with her exposed right hemisphere. It was swiftly followed by a spank to the left globe, then again to the right. Fay started to wriggle as he slapped alternate curvy targets. He beat an increasingly hard tattoo across both virgin cheeks. She gasped as he spanked on. It was punishment pure and simple - a bare-bummed humiliation that his lady wife was getting to see.
I won't cry out, the trainee rep told herself, not with that stuck-up bitch watching. I'll take this like a grown up, after all it's only a few slaps. But the whacks built up, turning her bottom from light beige to pink to painful scarlet. Soon she was whimpering, then crying out then begging, 'Please, sir, please!'
'Have you truly learned your lesson?' Richard Keat asked, squeezing her glowing tender spheres and causing additional writhing.
'Oh yes, sir!' Fay breathed, meaning it. 'I'll remember to warn my new guests about the timeshare tricks from now on.'
And she did, she did. Later that sore-bummed day she typed out a relevant warning notice then photocopied it and stapled one to every day-tours brochure. She tried to take care of every contingency, knowing that the merciless inspectorate was around for the rest of the week. Word had it that if you did well Keat wrote you an excellent report that more or less guaranteed a smooth career path. But if you made mistakes you got the option of dismissal - or of red hot nether cheeks!
All went well until the Thursday when Fay received a phone call from one of the other guests. She sounded semi-hysterical.
'Quickly - doctor for sister,' she said in broken English. She added something which sounded horribly like the German word for 'death.' The last thing a reputable company wanted was for a holidaymaker to die on them. Fay immediately asked for Richard Keat to be buzzed.
Ten minutes later the two of them were in his hire car racing towards the beach. Fay felt sad for the woman who was ill but quietly confident that she had nothing to do with it. They parked and raced over to the gesticulating phone caller. Richard Keat took one look at her disoriented sister.
'Sunstroke,' he said. He turned to the other woman. 'Have you phoned the number on the Medical Card?'
'No medical card,' said the woman, looking confused.
'Your rep should have supplied you with one on your first day.' Richard Keat shot Fay a look which brooked much torment. 'Centros Medicos,' he said into his mobile. Then he turned to Fay. 'I warned you what would happen if... Be on the sun roof at 4pm.'
Ten minutes till countdown... As 4pm neared Fay changed into black cords in the slight hope that Richard Keat would just chasten her over their thickness. Beneath the cords she'd put on hip-hugging cream cotton pants. Now she slipped on a matching cream bra and a short-sleeved lemon silk blouse. Like Mrs Keat she'd present a picture of understated elegance.
But Mrs Keat wasn't getting spanked. Fay bit back the thought and tried to concentrate on the benefits that this humbling chastisement would bring her. She'd get to retain all the benefits of living in a warm friendly climate, could enjoy all-night dancing fuelled by the island's colourful salads and fruits de la mere.
She was still nervously counting her blessings as she took the hotel lift to the roof which had recently been turned into an open air solarium. Very few guests knew of its presence yet. A four foot wall around the outside acted as a windbreak yet still let in all of the sun. Richard Keat presumably knew that they could talk there in relative peace.
Fay left the lift and walked, dragging her feet, to the solarium door. She opened it slowly. Richard Keat was already seated on one of the recliners, his wife on the next.
He stood up when he saw her. 'Ah, Miss Lors - we were just discussing how much more I'd liven that pretty bum if you were late.'
'She's five minutes late by my reckoning,' murmured Mrs Keat looking covetously at Fay's lower quarters.
Richard Keat quirked an eyebrow at her. 'Now, dear, you know you deliberately set your watch fast so that you're always ahead of schedule and never earn a stern birching yourself.'
Fay smirked at the thought of the PA having to pull her own pants down. Then her smile disappeared as the man folded the arms of the nearest white plastic recliner out of the way so that it presented a continuous smooth surface for her reluctant flesh.
'Bare your backside then lie on your tummy, Miss Lors. I'm going to give you a thorough taste of the cane.'
Fay stared frantically at him then looked with even less hope at his smug-faced wife.
'I thought maybe you'd just spank me again,' she muttered, her eyes fearfully fixed on the rod that he'd picked up from beneath one of the recliners.
'No, a light tanning didn't work so I plan to apply a much harder one,' the older man said. He pointed at her lower half. 'Take off your shoes, socks and trousers.' Not looking at him, Fay obeyed. She didn't really have an option. Well, she did - but it involved returning to grey-skyed Britain or going on to some obscure banana republic rather than staying on this tropical isle.
When she'd gotten down to her lemon top and cream briefs she looked at him helplessly.
'You know .I like to correct a nude bottom,' the man said coolly, 'so pull these panties down.'
Fay hesitated then told herself that she might as well get it over with. She edged off the cream material, noting how the strong sun had already gently warmed •her taut backside. Then, aware that she was now naked below the waist, she put her hands protectively in front of her pubic curve.
'Don't be shy, girl - we've seen it all before in your study. Put your hands on top of your head and turn around slowly,' the hateful Mrs Keat said.
Fay cast a beseeching look at Mr Keat but he simply nodded in agreement. Blushing, Fay did as she was bid. She could sense both pairs of eyes feasting on the sight of her twitching buttocks, tried to tell herself that this shaming was really for her own good.
'Now bend over and clasp your ankles so that my husband can examine the parts he's going to be caning,' the supercilious Mrs Keat said.
It was too much for Fay. With an angry shout she threw herself at the woman. Richard Keat stepped in and grabbed her arm.
'Both of you - stop it this instant!' he said sharply. He looked at his wife. 'Fay has made two very bad work mistakes. She needs disciplined and she's recognised that her arse deserves a very sound thrashing. But there's no need for you to make such crass remarks.'
'Well, she thinks that she can get away with murder just because she'd pretty!' Mrs Keat muttered. She sat down on the edge of one of the recliners and kicked off her shoes.
'Fay - take up your position. I'm going to stripe your bare bottom now,' the male inspectorate said matter of factly. She sensed him watching her every move as she got obediently into place. Then he took a couple of cushions from a nearby chair and slid them under her knees and belly. 'There! Now that the rest of you is comfy I can concentrate on correcting that wilful backside.'
'I just made a mistake,' Fay muttered, aware of her helpless twin rotundities.
'If that tourist had taken her sunstroke to a quack doctor or to a private clinic that we don't have an arrangement with then we could have been looking at serious litigation,' Richard Keat said.
He whisked the pale yellow cane through the air as if testing its flexibility. Fay trembled and stared at the light blue skyline ahead. Then she tensed her bum cheeks, pulling the pale flesh towards the central furrow as she sensed that he'd moved near.
'How many, sir?' she whispered with genuine trepidation.
There was a long pause then he murmured, 'Oh, I haven't decided yet.'
'I'd stripe her like a zebra, the trouble she's caused!' Mrs Keat added.
Fay was trying to think up a suitably cutting reply when the rod etched its pitiless presence on her exposed backside. She cried out at the pain, scrabbling about in an undignified dance on the recliner cushions and exhaling hard.
'Easy - if you leave the recliner I repeat the stroke,' her disciplinarian warned, flexing the rod.
Unable to stay still, Fay continued to massage her naked cheeks and make little whimpering sounds.
'Too hot for you to handle, is she, sweetheart? How about if I cane her for you?' his wife added, staring directly into Fay's wide dark eyes.
'No! I won't wriggle so much - you do it!' the younger girl gasped out, looking at Richard Keat as if he was her saviour.
'All right, my dear. Take those protective hands away from your cheeks and face the front again.'
Fay rolled back onto her belly then lay there clenching and unclenching her buttock muscles. This time she was expecting the lash - but its deep sore bite still caused her to yell and drum her feet.
'I'll place the next one just slightly further down,' Richard added when she at last calmed down. He lined up the wooden punisher. 'I like to land each stroke as close to its predecessor as possible so that the naughty girl has a completely glowing backside.'
'That last girl you whipped in Canada had an arse like a little cherry by the time she'd paid her dues,' Mrs Keat added with obvious satisfaction.
Fay closed her shame-filled eyes. If it got too much she could always walk away, she reminded herself stoically. This was just an extreme form of staff training - a sort of grown up boarding school. Then the rod seared into both disarmed hemispheres again and robbed her mind of all thought except her sore raised rump.
'What are you thinking about?' Richard Keat asked when she'd at last let go of her thrice-striped extremities. 'Nothing, sir,' Fay mumbled, gazing down.
'Really? You should be thinking of the reason for this punishment, of how you can avoid future work mistakes,' the inspectorate said.
'Yes, sir. I'll learn the routine off by heart,' Fay promised.
'No you won't,' the older man answered. 'You'll put a series of procedures in place.'
'Proceed with livening up her buttocks, dear!' Mrs Keat added liltingly.
'I'll liven yours if you're not quiet. You're supposed to be watching the door in case anyone tries the handle,' her unsmiling spouse said.
But she'd obviously reminded him of the task in hand for he turned again to the girl's apprehensive cheeks. These same cheeks quivered. This time the cane sizzled across the centre of her globes.
'I'll follow procedures!' Fay yelled, arching her back then half-straightening up and getting very close to leaving the recliner. She turned and caught a glimpse of Mrs Keats's half-smile and immediately lay back down. God, what was that woman's problem? Did she really relish another female being taken to task?
'Sorry, sir. I'm ready for the next stroke, sir,' she forced out in the hope of winning the man's favour.
'Good girl. I'll stripe the lower portion now,' the impassive man explained.
He bounced the rod experimentally against the untouched strip of flesh a few times and Fay moaned quietly with apprehension. Then he laid on the rattan for real and she gasped and wailed.
'It's too much,' she snivelled. 'I really don't think that I can bear it.'
'It's almost over - you're doing well. I'm sure from now on you'll be an excellent travel rep.'
At the man's praise Fay relaxed slightly against the plastic rack. Then she tensed again as she sensed him lining up his implement. She gripped the edges of the recliner and bravely listed all of the things she loved about working on this isle, then cried out as the lash reminded her of the errors that she'd made.
'Oh it hurts, it hurts!' she wailed, rubbing at her punished contours.
'Of course it hurts - it's meant to modify your behaviour,' her quietly-spoken chastener said.
Fay looked around at him beseechingly. 'Sir - please don't discipline me any further. I promise I'll never make such silly mistakes again.'
Richard Keat squatted down at her exposed backside and stroked both pained hot cheeks.
'I know it stings but if I failed to lay on this last stroke you just wouldn't respect me. And it's important for the future of the company that I have the respect of all our staff.'
'Couldn't you cane me on my hand instead then?' the trainee rep whispered.
'No, that's not a safe practice. Caning was meant for a big girl's arse.'
'I have a small arse,' Fay said with a renewed flash of spirit.
'A small red one that's about to get a little redder,' Mr Keat said. He stood up and flexed the rod then again caressed it over her taut backside as if preparing it. Fay gritted her teeth and reminded herself that this was going to be the last ever lick. 'Such an energetic bum,' he added conversationally. 'It wriggles about like a little dog in heat.'
Determined not to provoke further correction by being rude at this stage, Fay mutely buried her head into the recliner back.
To her relief the last stripe didn't hurt as much as the rest. Maybe he'd held back a little, sensing she was truly contrite - or maybe she'd just gotten used to the punishment. Whatever, she now lay obediently in situ in case her disciplinarian wanted to further examine her remorseful parts.
'You can dress now,' he said gently.
'Thank you, sir,' Fay murmured, then gingerly got up and put on her pants. She looked at her cords and couldn't bear the thought of them further constricting her hot buttocks. Richard Keat seemed to understand.
'Here - wrap my beach towel around your waist like a sarong. Then go straight back to your room for a cold bath,' he said.
'I intend to!' Fay muttered with feeling.
'Cold bath? I'd put her hot little bum into a basin of warm water if I was in charge here!' Mrs Keat said.
Wincing, Fay walked out of the solarium door. As it swung shut she heard Richard Keat's voice raised in exasperation.
'But you're not in charge here, are you, Rebecca? I am - and I've just about had enough of you.' She strained to hear the next few words as the discussion between man and wife continued. Heard Mrs Keat say, 'We agreed when we married that the place for discipline was only in the workplace - I'm your wife!'
'And as of last year you became my PA - so you're also my work subordinate,' the man continued in a tone that brooked no opposition. 'And you've behaved so unprofessionally that you clearly need to be thrashed.'
'I won't be treated like this,' Mrs Keat parried in an unconvincing voice.
'Either you submit to a caning now or I'll call Fay back and tell her what. I'd like to do to you,' her husband said matter of factly. Fay knelt and peeked excitedly through the keyhole. This she had to see!
'You wouldn't - would you?' Mrs Keat queried, taking a step away from him.
In answer Richard took a step towards the door. 'Miss Lors...' he started to holler.
'Alright, you bastard, do it!' his recalcitrant wife said.
Fay watched as the older woman reluctantly took off her skirt, bent over the solarium wall and edged down her panties.
'You've been rude, insubordinate, humiliated that girl way beyond the limits of a normal work punishment - I think that merits a full dozen strokes of the cane,' Richard said.
Fay watched as Rebecca's bum took its first prettily-reddening lash. She admired the way the bare bottom in question danced about before getting back in situ. It made the same convulsive movements after receiving the second stripe, and the third. By the time the disobedient little cheeks had received eight lashes they were marked all over so that the disciplinarian was forced to put a new cane mark over an existing tender one.
'Oh it hurts, it hurts!' Rebecca wailed, intermittently holding her frightened haunches. She looked at her husband-and-boss's face then slowly faced the wall again.
'You're on the final three. It's almost over,' he said coolly.
'Thank goodness. I'd no idea your precious cane could hurt so much,' Rebecca said.
Fay smiled as she watched the sorrowful backside take the rest of its strokes. In another few moments Rebecca's pride was going to be hurting far more than her reddened buttocks. For she, Fay, planned to remain behind the solarium door and she'd smile broadly when the older woman walked out.
No Panties Required
Any moment now he'd get close to the vibrant pop singer Luce. Don tried to hide his excitement as he handed over his ticket to the mammoth female bouncer. 'Sorry, sir, we have a dress code here. No leather trousers allowed,' the thirty-something woman explained.
Don stared at her but she stared right back at him. 'You don't understand - I'm the local contact for Luce's fan club,' he mumbled shyly.
'I don't care if you're the President of America,' the black-suited bouncer said.
'But Luce loves leather,' Don continued, determined to look his best for the sexual songstress. 'She said so in an interview last week.'
'Maybe so, but it also says on the back of your ticket that you can't wear denim or leather,' the muscular woman replied. Her voice was deeper than his and he wondered for a second if she was taking steroids. 'You've time to go home and get changed.'
Muttering inwardly, Don did as he was told. He had to see Luce, maybe even touch her shoe and have her smile down at him. He'd worshipped her for the last three years, since being given Luce's album for his eighteenth. Since then he'd arranged monthly nights out for local Luce fans. Now she was playing live in his home town for the next three nights. And these weren't public performances - only local dignitaries and fan club organisers like himself were in attendance. This was an exclusive half week where the singer would try out a different type of song.
And he must hear those different songs. Quickly he hailed a cab, went to the home he still shared with his parents and changed into his one good interview suit. 'That's better,' the bouncer said as Don handed over his ticket again.
