by Sarah Veitch
Still blushing, I tilted my head the little I could and watched as Rob Hillman walked over to the wall and took down one of the many paddles. 'Meet the corrector,' he said, pressing the smooth wood to my lips. I realised that the wood had probably been worn smooth through lashing into numerous defenceless bottoms and I shivered and closed my eyes.
Hard wood lashed into soft flesh, sending new heat ricocheting through me. I yelled and opened my eyes again but could only see the area of the woodshed immediately in front of me. As I squirmed, desperate to free my hands and protect my hemispheres, Rob Hillman paddled me again.
'Men have taken their women out to the woodshed for centuries and given them a good paddling,' he said, and I could sense from the air currents that he'd again raised the hateful implement.
'Wasn't it children that were reprimanded there?' I gasped, hoping to distract him from chastising me.
'It was - but now we know better than to hit kids so it's just the women who take a damn sound thrashing,' he said.
And he wasn't kidding. I felt the paddle lash repeatedly into my buttocks. I cried out, jerked, flattened my belly against the wood, called him names and eventually wailing but nothing made any difference. He beat me long and hard until my entire being was concentrated on my punished posterior.
'Let's have a closer examination,' he said at last - and I relaxed slightly as he unfastened my bonds. But I tensed anew as he helped me to my feet then slung me over his shoulder, carrying me to one of the long wooden benches which ran along the walls of the shed.
He patronisingly patted my blazing bottom as he walked. 'Oh, it's a hot little bum,' he said, sitting down and positioning me across his lap so that my naked rear was under his hands, 'like a toasted muffin.' He fondled both globes until I groaned. The embarrassment of being touched on the bare like that made me quiver and caused my sex to rub against his trousers. When he saw this, he put his fingers to my most private place and urged me to rub against them rhythmically. I didn't want to, of course, but his ministrations ensured that I kept wriggling and within a moment I cried out, enjoying the ultimate release. Diary, I haven't... you know... since the nuns found me exploring myself after lights out and said that I'd be damned forever. I've been such a good girl ever since.
For long moments I lay there over his knee, expecting something terrible to happen, but nothing did. Eventually he deposited me gently on the floor. 'Bridget, put your clothes on and go to the restroom and tidy yourself up. There's no hurry. You've done well and I'm sure you won't be a disciplinary problem from now on.'
'Thank you, sir,' I mumbled and was soon edging my panties back over my red hot bum.
January 8th
An exceptionally mild day. I felt surprised at how many people complained about the cold. I walked to work in record time, so decided to surprise my colleagues by buying them all hot doughnuts from the nearby breakfast shop. I felt embarrassed giving Rob Hillman his hot cinnamon special but he simply said, 'Thank you, Bridget,' and smiled as if I was his very best friend. Jimmy was so surprised to receive his doughnut that he dropped it and Shirley muttered, 'What's the catch?'
January 9th
Fridays always seem to pass slowly in the office so I brought in a tape of my neighbour's child singing to cheer everyone up. He's a nice little boy really. I took him to the Fun Fair last night and we had candyfloss and went on the merry-go-round.
January 10th
As usual I cleaned the house from top to bottom then went to Tesco for the weekly groceries, but it still didn't feel like a normal Saturday, for I felt strangely restless - and at night I had very odd dreams.
January 11th
Had even stranger dreams about long thick probes disappearing into slender tunnels. I've no idea what it means.
January 12th
Don't you just hate Mondays? An elderly beggar woman got in my way as I walked to work and I gave her a little push. How was Ito know she'd tip right over? The passerby who helped her up glared at me and I had to give them the finger. The security man at work was slow at opening the doors so I gave him the finger too.
Unfortunately, things didn't get any better in the office. The damn place was overheated so I had to shout at the maintenance man. I also told Janette off for telling a phone customer to have a nice day. I mean, don't you just hate these Americanisms? And Jimmy irritated me by making my coffee too weak.
By 3pm I was feeling so restless that I decided to tell Rob Hillman I was sick and ask to go home. I knocked on his office door and was pleased at how quickly he answered. But I felt less pleased when I saw what he was watching and realised that he had been spying on me.
'Ah Bridget, I've just been watching last month's security tapes to establish whether or not we can erase them,' he said, leaning back in his chair.
He didn't tell me to sit down, but after a moments hesitation I did so, then turned my chair to face the TV monitor. Damn, the tape was showing me hiding the office supplies, tearing up receipts and replacing Shirley's low calorie biscuits with high fat ones.
'A trip to the woodshed obviously wasn't enough,' Rob Hillman said slowly, 'so you've warranted an hour in the stocks.'
'You must be joking,' I muttered, staring desperately around the room as if the furniture held the answer to my problems.
'Oh, I take punishing a naughty bottom very seriously,' my new boss replied.
I kept sitting on that self-same bottom and tried to remonstrate with him - but he won the argument when he mentioned my high risk of homelessness.
Again he marched me downstairs and this time we entered the Historical Props Department. I saw that he'd already brought an olde world stocks into the centre of the spacious suite. The stocks have a cruel reputation, and I trembled as I saw the adjustable holes to entrap my wrists, ankles and neck.
'I just put the correction fluid under the radiator as a joke,' I mumbled, trying to delay the onset of my humiliation.
'It's wanton destruction of office property - and may even be dangerous if the heat causes the fluid to give off fumes,' the American said. He pointed to the wooden restrainer. 'Take up your position, knickers down.' Then he smiled and added, 'In fact, I think you should take everything off. These particular stocks are designed for fetish parties so they have a special section to display your tits.'
What could I do? I couldn't afford to lose this job, especially as he wouldn't give me a reference. Blushing, I walked behind the stocks to briefly preserve my modesty. There I removed my white bra and white scoop necked top and tried to ignore the fact that Rob Hillman had walked across the room to take a seat behind me. Breathing hard, I pulled off my black ankle boots, black trousers and brand new white cotton panties. Totally naked, I turned and looked at him beseechingly.
'In,' he said pointing to the stocks. 'Dilatory behaviour earns you a hotter arse.'
Swallowing hard, I faced the heavy-wrought contraption and pushed my head through one hole and my wrists and ankles through the other holes. Diary, it was terrible. The devilishness of the device ensured that my naked bottom stuck out like a little beacon. I was so shamed by this exposure that I started to withdraw my limbs - but Rob Hillman pushed me firmly back and tightened the holes so that I couldn't escape. I was now at the mercy of his hands - and at whatever else he wanted to chasten me with.
'Let's have a look at these coy tits of yours,' he said after walking around to inspect my quivering bottom. I relaxed for a moment, then shivered anew as he undid a screw and slid down a panel on the front of the stocks to reveal my breasts which were sticking through especially-made padded holes in the heavy wood. 'Mm, very nice,' he continued, placing one palm over each breast and squeezing hard. 'You really shouldn't keep them hidden behind polo neck tops.'
'But the nuns said...' I mumbled, then forced back my words.
'The nuns? Oh Bridget,' he said, smiling. 'We're going to have to work on your repression or you'll remain the most miserable office worker in the UK.'
He ran his thumb
s over my nipples. 'Does that feel nice?'
I nodded reluctantly, not looking at him, colouring further.
'And this?' He caressed the smooth undersides of my breasts until I moaned. 'They're very sensitive, aren't they?' he continued, wonder if I can make you come just from playing with them?'
Wordlessly, I shook my head but he played on regardless. And soon my laboured breathing turned into little groans and they, in turn, transmogrified into half screams as I built towards a crescendo. Soon I was voicing my first breast-inspired orgasm with guttural cries.
'That'll put a smile on your face for a few days,' Rob Hillman said with obvious satisfaction. Then he frowned. 'But we still have to punish you for your many infractions. I think as you're in the stocks we'll warm your bottom with a good old fashioned stick.'
He proceeded to fetch the punisher from the display case on the far wall - a case which held biting canes and heavy straps and three tailed tawses. 'Pm sure we'll try all of them in due course,' he said matter of factly, following my gaze.
'I'll be the perfect worker from now on,' I said quickly, desperate to spare my naked haunches.
'You will be after this thrashing,' Rob Hillman replied, 'albeit only for a few days.' He patted my head as if I were a little dog. 'I know your type, Bridget, know it intimately. If you don't have an orgasm for a few days it makes you irritable and you take it out on everyone else.'
'Then give me an orgasm every day,' I said brightly, hoping against hope that he wouldn't go through with this beating.
'Hell, I've an office to run and friends to meet,' he said, hitting the stick lightly against his open left palm, as if trying it out for size. 'Take care of your own orgasms for a change.'
'But the nuns said...' I mumbled again, my shame increasing.
'And how happy were they?' Rob Hillman queried, lining up the stick. Seconds later I felt it lash into my helpless backside.
The paddling he'd given me in the woodshed had been bad - but this was much, much worse. For one thing the stocks held me completely motionless so I couldn't wriggle. And because the stick was narrower than the paddle, each stroke was much more focused and intense. It seared the plumpest part of my cheeks and the sensitive underswell, occasionally grazing the top of my parted thighs. I bayed like a wolf and made all sorts of incoherent promises but he lashed on and on.
'I'm sorry that I sabotaged the office equipment,' I gasped when he at last stopped berating my helpless cheeks.
'You will be,' he said grimly.
'Can't I make it up to you?' I whispered, hoping that he'd free me from my bondage, take me in his arms and make love to me.
'I suppose so,' Rob Hillman replied offhandedly. He walked up to my face and undid his zip.
Diary, I've never... well, I'm sure it's classified as a mortal sin. Part of me thought that it would be very wicked to take his manhood in my mouth - but another part of me, the stronger part, wanted to see him writhe for a change. So I smiled at him wantonly then took him in my mouth and sucked, enjoying hearing his groans and watching him buck his hips. I slowed down as he neared orgasm, keeping him waiting, enjoying his heartfelt pleas for the harder tonguing which would bring him to climax. At last I sucked harder and felt his fluids fill my mouth.
'Jesus, Bridget,' he said when he eventually withdrew, 'you're full of surprises.'
'We aim to please,' I said lightly, feeling very proud of myself.
Rob Hillman busied himself with freeing me from the stocks. 'Not that you can afford to get complacent,' he added, 'I've various punishments lined up for when you next transgress.' He watched as I gingerly edged my panties and trousers over my flaming parts, then he took me to the Athletic Props Section and showed me the gym horse. 'Ideal,' he said, 'for displaying a recalcitrant arse.'
I flushed but recovered my composure. 'Told you, I'm going to be perfect from now on.'
'For four or five days until that post-orgasmic glow wears off,' my boss said.
Well, diary, I'm sure he's wrong. I felt so good that I skipped all the way home that night, marvelling at how atmospheric the fog made everything look. I also took in a stray kitten which had been mew ling piteously outside my house for several days. I phoned my mother and told her that I loved her and thanked her for giving me this beautiful diary.
January 13th
Another lovely day. Fog can be very bracing.
January 14th
Is it really Wednesday already? The week has simply flown by.
January 15th
I'm not one to complain, but I wish that Jimmy would stop singing the top ten singles. He has an indifferent voice - not that even a good voice could do much with rap.
January 16th
Rob called me into his office this morning and read me the riot act again. This time he marched me to one of the anterooms which he'd set up as a school-type gymnasium. F or the first five minutes he amused himself by having me climb up the ropes and bars.
Then he said to pull down my pants, that it was almost time for my proper punishment. Remembering how the nuns had caned us in the gym, I trembled as I obeyed his hateful instructions. I looked at him pleadingly as I tied my blouse up but he stared unforgivingly back at me.
Diary, you can't imagine what it was like to run around that gymnasium naked below the waist whilst he aimed his teacher's strap at my hindquarters and thighs. He even made me touch my toes to display my backside to its full effect, before ordering me to run on the spot with my hands behind my head. I could feel my breasts and bottom jiggling, but he just ordered me to raise my knees higher and increase my pace.
Only when I was panting and red-faced did he lift me, protesting shrilly, onto the leather-backed horse and strap me down so that my bare bottom made the most tempting target. And this time - I can still hardly bear to think about it - he used the cane.
Nothing, but nothing, surpasses the cane for causing anguish. I was begging for mercy from the very first stroke but my implacable boss didn't seem to care.
'You do the crime, you do the time, Bridget,' he said and proceeded to give me a verbal list of all of my most recent wrongdoings, punctuating each one with a hellish swish of the rattan. My poor little bottom quivered and flinched and pleaded silently for forgiveness - whilst my lips cried for mercy - but he caned on anyway.
'Let me please you with my mouth,' I whispered. 'No, I'm more interested in striping your rear end,' he said.
I bit back a sob. 'But I really can't take it.'
'Your arse is naked, you're tied down, I really don't think you have much option,' he said.
I begged him to take me to the woodshed and use the paddle, or to take me to the stocks and use the old fashioned stick on my imprisoned buttocks, but he was adamant that my behaviour was worsening and that only a thorough striping with the cane would do.
'Haven't I any alternative?' I whispered beseechingly.
'Yes, dismissal,' Rob Hillman said.
I'd already had a mortgage increase that month - and now I had a dependent kitten to feed - so he knew that I hadn't an option.
'Please cane me for all my wrongdoings, sir,' I whispered, closing my eyes and scrunching up my tenderised bum.
The problem is, a girl can't keep her bum tensed in forever. Eventually I had to let it relax and it was then - when it made a tempting, smooth target - that my boss applied the cane again. I squealed and jerked but couldn't escape from the leather horse yet my poor bottom was in torment. I longed to bathe it in a bucket of ice.
'Ask nicely for the next stroke,' the office tyrant said. Not in this lifetime, I thought. 'I'll try so hard at work,' I said brokenly.
He walked up to my face and briefly brushed my lips with his. 'You'll work even harder if I give you a really sore arse.'
I shook my head. 'I have my limits.'
'Limits which are there to be broken,' the implacable American said. He bent the cane between his hands. 'I've noticed that the harder I beat you, the harder you come. And the harder you come, the be
tter an employee you are. So I intend to make your punishments less frequent but more severe from now on.'
'But what if I can't bear it?' I murmured, genuinely fearful.
'I hear the burger bar on the corner is recruiting,' Rob said. He walked behind me and played the rod over my trembling globes. 'Ask nicely for the next lash now.'
Slowly I marshalled my remaining courage. 'Please... please cane me hard, sir,' I half sobbed.
He obliged. My half sobs got louder. He gave me time to recover then laid on another stroke. Only when I was practically promising to run the office single-handed, did he stop. Then I felt him climb on top of me and his hard cock slid into my warm wetness. He flicked me slowly but rhythmically, his right hand sliding under my body to touch my clitoris.
After I'd caterwauled my orgasm into the gym, I expected him to untie me from the horse. Instead, he left me there, my sore parts totally exposed, my soaking pubis making squelching noises as I squirmed against the leather. 'I'm going to let you recover for two minutes then make you come again.'
'I can't,' I said, aghast, sure that my tender tissues couldn't bear it.
'You can and you will,' he said. True to his word, he was soon teasing my labia with his knowing fingers, making me wail. 'Think of how the cane felt as it lashed into your cheeks,' he said, butterfly stroking. 'Imagine how pitiful your arse looks, all striped and trembling. In a moment I'll free your hands and let you feel the hotness of your punished backside.'
I came then, moans echoing around the well-stocked gymnasium as Rob fingered every last second of sweetness out of me, then fucked me again and made me lick my own juices from his shaft.
