Corrective Measures

by Sarah Veitch

  Sherilee stiffened. So the relevant ex-boyfriend had entered the room. She tried to analyse the quiet tone. Was it Geoff? Or John? Or Simon? Could it be that guy from the Italian cafe whom she'd stood up last week?

  'Well, you've seen my rear,' she said icily. 'Is it red enough for you, you dirty bastard? Do I get to go home?'

  'You could go home this second,' the man answered. She heard his footsteps growing closer to her exhibited bare bum. 'But when I tease this little bud with the gentlest of touches I think that you'll decide you want to stay for seconds.'

  As his last word faded, she felt a finger brush her enlarged wet clit. 'Uh!' Sherilee gasped out. 'Ah! Oh yes. Jesus!' The pleasure was so intense that she almost shot over the desk. The teacher writhed desperately, trying to lift her hips and beg for further contact. Her pussy hungered for release. 'Please. I beg. Keep touching me like that,' she breathed, moving back against the unseen hand.

  'Are you sure that a little wildcat deserves this much pleasure?' her ex-boyfriend queried.

  'I do. I've been good. I...' She sounded like a four year old in a supermarket pleading for sweets.

  'Did you take your spanking without complaint?' asked the man.

  'Did she hell,' came the biker's voice. 'I had to put her over my shoulder and carry her to the spanking chair - then she wriggled and called me names and asked to be allowed to keep her pants on.'

  'A request which you sensibly ignored,' said Sherilee's ex-boyfriend, and she quivered as he fondled her naked bum.

  'I did. In fact I tanned her arse extra hard for even suggesting it,' the biker continued. Sherilee moaned with longing and shame, and tried to rub her mons against the stationary hand. Where were these all-knowing fingers? It was both wonderful and terrible being naked before two men with her well-disciplined small rump sticking high in the air.

  'Please stroke my clit,' she begged again. The fingers obliged. The voice which accompanied them was less obliging. 'Keep asking real pretty,' it murmured gloatingly.

  'Please,' Sherilee muttered, 'I'll do anything with my mouth, my hands, because I need this. Oh please, please, please, please, please.'

  'Will you ask nicely for six of the cane?' her tormentor asked. The English teacher mutely shook her head. Her poor arse was already blazing. 'Well, if the bottom doesn't want a striping then the clit can't have an orgasm,' the man replied.

  'My bottom wants cool ointment,' Sherilee begged.

  'You could have that after the cane,' said one of her new Masters consideringly.

  'But isn't the cane very painful?' the girl enquired.

  'Six of the best on the bare? Put it this way - it's not meant to tickle, sweetheart,' added the biker's voice.

  Sherilee groaned with hope as someone fingered her needy clit again. Then the finger was withdrawn, and she knew that she couldn't bear it.

  'I beg for the cane, Master,' she whispered urgently.

  'How many?' murmured the man.

  'Six strokes, sir. I deserve six strokes, sir.' Just saying the words brought further heat to her eroticised triangle and thrill-led pussy lips.

  But the cane's merciless focus took all thoughts of orgasm away.

  'Aaaaaah!' Sherilee wailed, as the first brand made its way across her already reddened globes. She tried to get up, but one of the men sweetly fingered her pussy lips and she submitted to the rush of pleasure.

  'Ask nicely for stroke two,' the clitoral teaser said.

  'Please lay on stroke two, sir,' the English teacher forced out. At least this time she knew exactly what was coming. Still the line of pain momentarily took her breath away.

  'Oh angel, you've got the hottest arse in Christendom,' her ex murmured, tracing the second weal. 'It's wriggling around like a roasted chestnut. It's the sorest backside I've ever seen.'

  Sherilee felt the signals go off in her brain which told her she was nearing orgasm. How was it possible to get turned on by this man's contemptuous tone? 'It hurts so...' she whispered.

  'Think of the climax, then beg nicely for stroke three,' the biker told her. Again he or the other man had to fondle her clit to persuade her to ask for more of the cane.

  'Just get it over with,' she muttered, moving her small hips the little she could in her bent over position.

  'Don't be impatient,' said the biker. 'We connoisseurs of bad bums like to take our time.'

  They took their time lining up the cane for the third stripe. Sherilee tensed and untensed her glowing cheeks. She pushed her belly more firmly against the desk and tried to think about her ultimate orgasm. She moved her legs in an agony of anticipation, then tried to force her restless bum to stay in place. 'What a nervous arse; it must know that it deserves a thorough roasting,' laughed one of the two men. Then they laid the third stripe on and almost immediately followed it by stripe four.

  'Can I rub my bum?' Sherilee pleaded, her hands clenching and unclenching on the legs of the desk.

  'No, that isn't what we want,' came the biker's voice. 'You have to remember that this bottom belongs to us for the duration of your punishment. Until you've paid your penance that arse must do exactly what its told.'

  'It's being good,' Sherilee muttered, wondering how she could convey with her sore globes that she was being obedient.

  'If it was being good,' countered the man, 'it would have asked politely by now for stroke five.'

  Sherilee asked and moaningly received the stroke midway down her well-chastened rump. One of the men applied the sixth stroke lower down, near her thigh tops. Then he turned his knowing light touch to her clit.

  'Horny, sweetheart?' he asked.

  'Uh, uh, uh!' Sherilee murmured.

  'God, you're hot for it,' said the man, fondling her desperate bud with the lightest touch. 'Baby, your pussy's dripping,' he continued, increasing the gentle stimulus. And Sherilee stretched her mouth into a huge grimace of release and came and came.

  She rode the waves of her climax for a very long time.

  'I think that if I entered you now I could make you come again,' said her ex-boyfriend's voice when he finally removed his euphoria-inducing fingers.

  'Do it,' Sherilee muttered, further spreading apart her already open legs.

  'That was the old Sherilee speaking,' the voice shot back. 'The new Sherilee says please and thank you. She's very demure but asks nicely for some cock...'

  Later her lover - or lovers - guided her to the school's gym showers. They soaped her, they rinsed her as she stood, blindfolded but trusting, every fibre of her being deliciously sated and thoroughly filled.

  'Are we quits now?' she whispered as they dried her off. She already felt half in love with this masterful ex-boyfriend. But she couldn't say so - she had to maintain some pride.

  'No, you're to come here again next week for your discipline and our pleasure,' her ex-boyfriend answered.

  Sherilee turned her blindfolded face in the direction of the vaguely familiar tone. 'But I thought that you... why do I need further discipline?' she enquired.

  'Well, as you were so difficult during this one,' the man explained, 'you've failed to fully wipe the slate clean. I've decided that you'll have to be further chastised.'

  'I took a new Polaroid of your sore red cheeks tonight,' the biker chipped in. 'Talk about living colour. Those globes were just pleading for mercy whilst they were squirming over the desk.'

  'And if I don't let you spank me, you'll...?'

  'Yes, show a photo of your caned bare bum to the headmaster and tell him you agreed to it,' the biker said and Sherilee's clit started to swell again.

  They finished dressing her. She strained to hear their words as the two men moved a little distance away. She stood there, trying and failing to peer through the doubled black cotton. She could just have untied the scarf of course, but that wouldn't have been entering into the spirit of the thing. What's more, it might have earned her an additional caning, and much as she'd loved the afterglow and the orgasm, she'd hated the latter sore stages of being s
triped.

  The teacher craned her head as one set of footsteps faded away. 'Who just left?' she muttered.

  'Your ex did so I can let you see now,' said the biker. She felt strong hands untying the blindfold, and she blinked until her eyes again welcomed the light.

  'So, you... em... chastise me here again next week?' she asked.

  'No, I don't. Familiarity breeds contempt,' the biker replied calmly. He started to walk with her towards the door.

  'You mean...?'

  'That's right. Your boyfriend will pay someone else to bare your bottom. And this time he'll use something other than the cane.' He winked as he added the words which made Sherilee quake with ongoing shame and new pelvic excitement. 'You're going to make the cutest little pony girl, sweetheart, as you wriggle under the springy riding crop.'

  Wet, Wet, Wet

  'Three hours till I declare Waterbed World officially open,' Katrina Mearns exclaimed. She waltzed round the glass-fronted structure, looking hungrily at each rippling King Size.

  'Let's just rehearse your performance, Katrina,' Blake Lewison said.

  'As you wish, Mr Lewison.' Katrina smiled at Waterbed World's manager for the four hundredth time, and wished he'd give her at least a token grin of appreciation. When she looked into his intent azure eyes she wanted to open much more than his bed store - she wanted to open her legs. But he seemed to be one of those business-orientated forty year olds who saw Beauty Queens as a necessary hazard or a total waste of space.

  Well, she was really just a Beauty Princess, Katrina reminded herself. She'd won two local competitions. The prize money was helping to pay her way through College. A year from now she'd graduate in Retail Management and maybe land a job like Blake Lewison's for herself. He was mentor material, which was yet another reason to get close to him. Another reason to win his attention and preferably his respect.

  She knew how to get the former, leastways. Katrina flexed her shapely calves as the manager checked the classical music cassette was in place. When he turned back to face her she was ready to give him a prick-perking performance. 'I know what to do. I just jump up and down on the biggest bed,' she said breathlessly, 'making it look impromptu to get the punters attention. That way they'll associate our beds with fun and sex.'

  'Just remember to...' Blake Lewison started, stepping quickly forward. But Katrina didn't hear his final words. She'd already clambered on to the bed and was launching herself up from it, spreading her thighs apart in mid air as far as her short skirt allowed her to. She came down with both shoes together, grinned foxily and said 'There!'

  'Ah,' Blake Lewison gasped out. Katrina stared at him hopefully. Had the sight of her black stockinged legs brought on an instant orgasm? As she smoothed her auburn hair back from her shoulders, something whizzed past her button-cute nose. She looked down. Water was spraying upwards. As she stared, dripping, the bed moved beneath her and another strong jet of water started from further back. 'You weren't supposed to jump on the bed till you were barefoot with your swimsuit on. You're still wearing your three inch stilettoes,' Blake Lewison said.

  Now she'd torn it. Blushing, Katrina untangled her high heels from what remained of the mattress and squelched her way off of the King Size and on to the puddle-spreading floor.

  'Either you lick it up with your tongue or you're going across my knee for a bloody hard thrashing,' the forty year old manager said grimly.

  Katrina stopped in her tracks and gazed down at the spreading gallons of scented water. 'I can't lick all that up,' she said.

  'A thrashing it is, then,' her mentor confirmed. He took hold of her upper right arm and marched her towards one of the beds that was out of sight of the windows. Then he sat down and pulled her firmly over his lap.

  Was he serious? Katrina lay there stunned for a moment. Everything had happened so fast. One moment she'd been wishing she could get inside his boxer shorts, the next she was being restrained across his knee, both of her wrists imprisoned before her in his strong left hand. Would he really use his right hand to spank her? He seemed angry enough for anything, which was hardly surprising given that she'd just wrecked his precious thousand bed store.

  'First I'm going to spank you hard over your pants. Then I'm going to pull them down and smack you on the bare until I grow tired of it. Finally, depending on how apologetic you've been in the interim period, I'll chastise you with an implement,' Blake Lewison said.

  'And if I report you for sexual harassment?' Katrina muttered, closing her eyes as water from her fringe dripped into them.

  'Believe me, my dear, that term doesn't apply.' He snorted angrily. 'After all, I won't touch your sexual centre. That is, not unless you ask me really nicely for a very long time.'

  Katrina saw a way to avoid her punishment and have some satisfaction at the same time. 'I'd rather that you caressed my flesh instead of correcting it,' she murmured throatily, then winced as the man hoisted her bottom higher.

  'Oh, the pudenda-based pleasure only happens after the posterior is thoroughly punished,' he murmured with a voice-held grin.

  His words obviously helped him focus on the task in hand, for Katrina felt his fingers on the hem of her short black skirt, edging it upwards. She shivered as the air conditioning sent its currents over her rapidly-becoming-exposed stockinged legs. She was also wearing full length black crotchless panties. But Blake Lewison didn't seem to be interested in her crotch...

  'Good,' he said when he'd finished rolling her skirt up to her waist, 'you're wearing nice clingy pants. Means I can see your bottom jiggling when I smack it.'

  'I do aerobics and swim. It doesn't jiggle,' Katrina muttered indignantly. She realised that he was coolly assessing her small taut bottom, and felt her anal muscles self consciously contract. 'Just smack me if you're going to, for God's sake!' she continued gutturally, staring at the water-filled mattress beneath her limbs.

  'Don't rush me, Miss Mearns. It's almost three hours till our Grand Opening,' Blake Lewison said.

  'You can't correct me for that length of time,' Katrina gasped. She gasped again as his slapping palm made contact with her black-laced left cheek. Ouch, he'd put some force into that one. Then he toasted the right, then warmed the left again. Spank followed spank in a hot-fleshed merciless rhythm. Katrina's buttocks trembled. She tensed and untensed her finger-licked young thighs.

  'It stings,' the twenty year old blurted out, her feet coming off of the bed of their own volition.

  'A bum that's caused thousands of pounds worth of water damage deserves to do more than sting,' her tormentor said.

  He slapped both hemispheres again. To Katrina's chagrin, she felt them jiggle. 'I'm going to thrash you until you never want to see another pair of stilettoes again,' he said.

  'I never want to see another pair now,' Katrina muttered, wondering if that would save her fast-heating posterior.

  'If only I could believe you,' the manager said sadly, squeezing both wriggling orbs. 'Problem is, I've studied young women like you. I understand the ways of the world. You spend half of your life wearing the kind of clothes and shoes that are designed to give any red blooded male a raging hard on - then you complain that these self same men are ogling you when you're half-dressed.'

  'I've got a brain as well as a body,' Katrina muttered, then winced as the latter was subjected to another four hard spanks.

  'I suspect that may be true,' Blake Lewison said, 'but so far I've only seen you use your thighs and breasts, dear.'

  'I'll use my brain if you'll just stop spanking me,' Katrina got in quickly as her bottom's torment went on. She wondered how red her cheeks were under their sheer black covering. She wondered if they looked as hot as they felt.

  'Oh, so your brain's come up with an idea to save our Grand Official Opening?' her spanker said. 'To mop up the carpets? To get the water back in the bed?'

  'I... guess not,' the twenty year old muttered, tensing her curves in anticipation of its next lambasting. She didn't have long to wait. />
  Christ, this bastard knew how to spank. Her poor bum felt as if it had been baking in the sun for at least an hour. 'Time to pull down your pants and see how this vandalistic little arse is looking,' her employer said. It was a good bum, Katrina told herself, a shapely bum which looked great in a swimsuit. Still she felt ashamed that his first sighting of it was to be lying helplessly over his knee, all quivering and scared.

  She started to pull her wrists free of his, intending to stop him taking off her pants. She'd kiss him, open mouthed, instead - she'd soon take his mind off her error.

  'Naughty,' said the man. 'Bad girls must accept that they deserve a sore bum, and should thank their teacher nicely. Bad girls mustn't pull away.'

  So much for her winning one over on him with her sexuality. Katrina squirmed in an agony of humiliation at his words and wriggled some more as she felt his arms moving. She twisted her head back to see him taking off his tie. 'I'm going to tie your misbehaving wrists in front of you,' he confirmed, 'so that you don't try to avoid the bare bottomed part of your spanking.'

  'I wouldn't. You don't have to...' Katrina whispered, excited yet shamed by this deed. Part of her accepted that it was better to have her hands bound in front of her so that she couldn't push them back and get extra smacks for her trouble. And she'd read that it was easier to accept a chastisement if you knew you couldn't escape. The other part of her felt hugely aware of the increased vulnerability of her poor about-to-be-bared little bottom, felt a tiny bit afraid.

  She flexed her wrists as Blake Lewison circled them firmly with his tie, watched numbly as he knotted the bonds in place. 'I've scissors in my inside pocket to cut you free if your arms start to cramp,' he said, as if that made all the difference to her ignominy.

  'In the Boy Scouts, were you?' she shot back sourly, then trembled as he started to edge down her pants. These pants had so far hidden her backside, whilst the open crotch displayed her equally hot but as-yet-achingly-ignored cock-craving void. 'Please go easy,' she continued as he dragged her knickers down to just below her thigh backs. Her bare bottom was now helplessly displayed across his firm knees.