Corrective Measures

by Sarah Veitch

  Three Colours Red

  'So how long will you be away?' Debbie asked. She held her breath, aware that she wanted an encouragingly short answer.

  'Oh, only two days,' Miles Johnstone murmured, setting his diary down on the pristine table top.

  'That's not long,' Debbie said. She wanted to add I'll miss you, but she'd only been dating Miles for three weeks and he was still an unknown quantity who had yet to make her feel emotionally secure.

  He made her feel excited, though - even if he hadn't yet made love to her. Oh, they'd kissed a few times, but at the end of each long lip contact he'd gently pushed her away.

  'Problem is, I'm back for one night then away for a three day sales pitch in Paris,' Miles continued, stretching his legs out in the ample confines of the wine bar. 'The dry cleaners is closed by now, so I'll have to do my laundry tonight by hand if it's to be ready for the second trip.'

  Debbie grimaced inwardly. Every hour the manager of Masculine Mode menswear label spent laundering his suits was an hour that they couldn't be together. And she wanted them to be together soon in his bed. She cleared her throat and tried to make the offer sound casual. 'There's not much happening at College at the moment. Why don't I do your laundry while you're away?'

  Miles quirked one eyebrow. 'Sweetheart, I couldn't presume. I'm quite capable.'

  He looked more than capable. He looked born to be in charge. 'I have the time. You don't. It makes sense,' Debbie continued. She sucked in another breath. 'As a reward you can treat me to a candle-lit dinner on your first free evening back.'

  'I will indeed,' Miles said. He produced a set of keys from his briefcase. 'Here's my spare set. I'll be away by 8am. Let yourself in any time thereafter.' He leaned forward, and Debbie breathed deeply of his Pour Homme scent. 'My shirts are in the Aladdin basket in the laundry room. You'll find that I don't have a washing machine or spin dryer. I like to wash and rinse each garment separately by hand.'

  'I'll do the same, then,' Debbie murmured, hoping to get into his good books.

  'It never occurred to me that you might do otherwise,' Miles replied. He covered her small hand with his larger one. 'I know some people think that an interest in clothes makes a man effete, and I want to assure you that's not the case here. It's just that I care about what I do, and I want to earn further promotion. I have to look immaculate so that I inspire the retail outlets to buy.'

  'I understand,' Debbie said, smoothing down the black velour dress she'd bought with her recent birthday money. She suspected that if Miles saw some of her jeans and baggy jumpers he'd have an unfashionable fit.

  Two days later he did indeed have a fit - but a fit connected with his clothes rather than hers, a fit that led to a thorough spanking. The kind of spanking that a girl doesn't forget...

  Miles had driven to meet her straight from the airport, and had taken her out for the promised thank you meal. Then he invited her back for liqueurs and to see Masculine Mode's latest retail catalogues. 'You can give me a woman's opinion on what suits today's man in his thirties,' he said casually.

  Anything that you wear looks ace, Debbie thought, undressing him with her eyes for the five hundredth time as she climbed the single flight of stairs to his deluxe apartment. She wondered if he'd take her own clothes off and make love to her tonight.

  He let them both in. He poured her a Benedictine, then showered and changed.

  'I like the way you've laundered my clothes and hung them all up,' he said when he returned to the lounge with a bottle of brandy. 'My French clients will love them.' He joined her on the long chintz sofa. 'Just one thing, Debbie - I couldn't find the cream raw silk grandad shirt.'

  Debbie felt the first tremors of guilt spread through her breasts. 'Ah, I'd forgotten all about that one,' she said.

  'You forgot to launder it? Damn! I'd better do it now. I need that shirt for my first meeting in Paris tomorrow. It's a specially made version of the new line we're hoping to sell there, and cost over three hundred quid.'

  'Three hundred...?' Debbie felt her mouth drop open of its own volition. Miles Johnstone was going to hate her now, might even end the relationship. 'I meant I'd forgotten to tell you that it... got spoilt,' she continued hesitantly.

  'What happened?' Miles asked. His features had gone sort of guarded, extra watchful.

  The student felt her heart begin to speed faster. 'I... some dye came out of your scarlet gym shorts,' she said.

  Miles stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. Then he patted his lap. 'You've obviously washed the garments together when I told you to wash them separately.'

  Debbie cleared her throat. 'I thought it would save time, so I just...'

  'Then you failed to admit to your crime when we met for dinner,' Miles Johnstone continued. Knowing that everything he said was true, the twenty year old stared at the floor. 'Such carelessness had cost me three hundred pounds, and will weaken my sales position tomorrow at the buyers meeting,' Miles finished, staring at her intently. 'You can give me the rest of the details lying over my knee.'

  Debbie stilled with surprise. She felt the blush start somewhere in the centre of her cheeks. It spread warmly up and down her face then intensified further.

  'You can't mean...?' She couldn't bear to say the words "that you're going to spank me" out loud.

  'I mean that you've been negligent. That you have to be punished,' Miles Johnstone confirmed. As if to underline her fate, he took off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. 'There! Now I'm ready to teach a disobedient bum to behave.'

  'But ruining your shirt was a mistake!' Debbie muttered. She wondered what a spanking would feel like, but she couldn't just throw herself across his knees like a sacrificial virgin. And being spanked like a naughty schoolgirl would be so embarrassing. She'd see if she could talk her way out.

  'It would be a mistake if I didn't modify your bad behaviour by pulling down your pants and warming your rear,' the manager continued. Debbie stared at him with mixed curiosity and apprehension. Was he really going to do this or was he just trying to psyche her out, give her a scare?

  'I'm stronger that I look. Bet you can't haul me across your knee,' she said challengingly. There was less shame in being bent across his knee if he put her there himself.

  'I've spanked much bigger girls than you,' Miles said with a lazy grin. He reached for her arms and pulled her over in a single movement. Then he clasped both her wrists in one of his hands and placed the other in the small of her back. 'How many spanks should you get for not confessing you'd ruined my shirt in the first place?' he asked, stroking her wriggling bum.

  'Eight?' Debbie muttered, beginning to feel vulnerably small. She'd half wanted this - but now she wasn't sure if she could bear it. What if he just pushed her away afterwards like he'd done when he'd kissed her before?

  'Eight spanks for a three hundred pound shirt?' the manager murmured, continuing to trace her small buttocks through her tight velour dress. 'That hardly seems appropriate. I think thirty sounds fair - for starters, that is.'

  'That's only the beginning?' Debbie muttered, then waited for confirmation. She was hugely aware of her pantied and skirted little bum.

  'Here's what I have in mind,' Miles Johnstone said. 'First I give you thirty spanks over your dress as a punishment for disobeying my laundering instructions in the first place. Then I lift up your dress and give you another thirty for not telling me about the ruined shirt right away. Finally I bare your bottom and give you a final thrashing, the number of spanks depending on how good or bad you've been during the previous slaps.'

  By then her buttocks would be the deepest vermilion shade, Debbie thought, and she shivered with shame and excitement.

  'I plan,' Miles Johnstone continued, as if reading her thoughts, 'to turn your bum three colours red.'

  Debbie sensed that he'd raised his right hand. She puckered up her bottom nervously, and closed her eyes. Then she opened them in surprise as the first spank lashed down on her taut left buttock. I
t felt surprisingly strong, though warming rather than sore. Miles treated the alternate buttock to the same firm treatment and it too began to feel more alive, started to tingle like her face did when she left the house and walked into the cold. The twenty year old pressed her tummy more firmly against the manager's knees as he repeated the full force spanks on her dress-and-panties-sheathed flesh.

  'Been practicing, have you?' she muttered.

  'I lift weights twice a week at the gym,' Miles said. He spanked hard at the tender underswell. 'Means I can really warm a naughty bum.'

  'Congratulations!' the student sneered, squirming ashamedly against his knee. The repeated spanks were beginning to make her cheeks glow and burn a little, so she tensed her derriere, trying to turn it into a smaller target for the hateful hand.

  'How many more?' she quavered.

  'A few more over your dress,' Miles answered. 'I forgot to count so I'll just have to guess at the number you've yet to receive.' He continued to whack her wriggling bottom through the tight-stretched velour. 'Then we'll really begin to have some spanking fun.'

  Because he'll be pulling up my dress. Debbie thought back to the panties she'd put on. Damn, they were fuchsia-coloured bikini style ones which matched the equally flimsy bra now moulding to her full hard nipples. Lingerie to inspire lustfulness, not lingerie to protect a punished bum. Miscreants in the past had put padding down their pants to protect their bottoms from the biting cane or the searing slipper. Her own poor buttocks would have no such padding at all. The student made little gasping sounds as Miles applied the final hard spanks to her clingy dress material. Then she awaited the next more shameful part of being taken to task.

  For long moments the manager seemed content to just caress her tender curves through the black velour.

  'It's getting nice and hot already, Debbie,' he whispered. 'Can you feel how tender it is?'

  'Can't feel a thing!' Debbie muttered, wriggling on his lap like an eel out of water, and wincing at the outright lie. But she was dammed if she'd give this man the satisfaction of knowing that he was making an impact on her, even if he was making a very big impact. Being so close to him had obviously started off the familiar sexual signals, and now she was aware of a low insistent pulsing between her legs.

  Miles squeezed her bum cheeks extra hard.

  'Well, we'll have to change all that,' he murmured. 'After all, you are being punished.'

  'You could just try sending me to Coventry!' Debbie said. She shivered as the man's large hands started to edge her dress up, and she realised that he was closer to baring her bottom.

  'Rather than ordering you to keep silent,' he said with evident enjoyment, 'I'm hoping to make you squeal.'

  'Sadist!' Debbie muttered. She whimpered with desire as Miles slid a finger inside the gusset of her panties and stroked her full wet labial lips.

  'In that case you're a masochist,' he said sweetly. 'You've got the hottest little quim.'

  He was right. She'd been climbing towards a climax from the moment he first suggested she bend over his knee. The twenty year old stared down at the carpet as he moved her dress hem up her back by merciless inches. She'd had submissive fantasies in the past - but now this was reality. And she had a feeling that it was going to hurt like hell. Debbie's pantied bum trembled. She knew that if someone had ruined three hundred pounds worth of her clothes she'd have been itching to get her own back. And, with her taut globes beneath his palms, Miles could do just that...

  'Pink panties over an even pinker bum. How appropriate,' the Masculine Mode manager said. Debbie stiffened as she felt his fingers tracing the warmed flesh beneath her high-cut silken briefs. 'I can see the top half of each cheek. It's got a lovely glow,' Miles Johnstone continued. 'Looks really sore.'

  'Into colour co-ordination now, are we?' Debbie sneered.

  'No, I'm into rectifying a girl's mistakes,' Miles replied, raising his knees in order to hoist her bottom higher. Debbie quivered at her increased vulnerability and wished that she'd never ruined his designer shirt or tried to keep quiet about its demise.

  'Maybe we could come to a deal about the spoilt clothes?' she muttered, trying to delay the next cruelly-sensitising slaps.

  'The deal is that you get the hottest arse on the planet for being negligent and deceitful,' Miles replied.

  Debbie felt the shameful lust rush through her. It was quickly followed by a new spread of nether orbs pain. 'Aah!' she gasped out as his palm slapped hard against one pantied cheek. 'Ow, that really hurt,' she added, as he toasted the other equally helpless rotundity. He was holding her down so firmly that she could only kick her ankles and writhe in place.

  'Use the histrionics when I'm spanking your bare bum,' Miles murmured. 'Then you'll really have something to squeal about.'

  'I... don't know if I'll be able to take it,' Debbie said gutturally, gasping the words between smacks.

  'The option,' said the manager, 'is that I give you a bill for three hundred quid.' He stopped spanking her, and just stroked her bum. He seemed to be waiting. 'Well, what's it to be?' he said at last.

  'I...' Debbie was already behind with her rent and gas bills, 'I'll... alright, just keep doing it!' she said.

  'Doing what?' Miles Johnstone countered, squeezing her hot sore spheres. 'Come on, sweetheart, don't be shy. What is it that you want me to keep doing?' he prompted, pulling at her waistband to tighten her fuchsia pants.

  Debbie closed her eyes again. God, this was shameful!

  'You know,' she got out.

  'Articulate it,' Miles replied. 'My God, you're supposed to be majoring in English.'

  'I... just continue the spanking,' Debbie said.

  'That's what you want, is it, my dear?' the older man parried. 'A sore bottom for being a wicked little girl?'

  Debbie clenched her teeth together. For a moment she wished that she was the one doling out the spanks. 'Yes, I... want you to keep spanking me,' she breathed.

  'Tell me how your bottom feels now,' the manager went on.

  More heat rushed to Debbie's groin. Her nipples hardened. But she couldn't say the kind of words he was insisting on. He was so new to her; she had to retain some dignity. Had to put up the vestige of a fight. Then Miles slid a thick knowing finger inside her rapturous recess, and all conscious thought fled. 'Please let me come,' she whispered. 'Sir - please!'

  'Ask nicely for the rest of your spanking first,' her tormentor ordered, stirring the teasing finger deep inside her. 'You have to endure the main course before you can have dessert.'

  He encircled her hungry clitoris. Then he stopped.

  'Ask nicely,' he ordered again.

  Debbie knew she'd say anything if her climax was the outcome. 'Please spank me hard, sir,' she said gutturally, blushing further, and dipping her head closer to the ground.

  'Let's be more specific,' the manager continued. 'Say something like please spank me over my panties then pull them down and really give me what for, sir.'

  In a shaky voice, Debbie began to repeat his instructions. Humiliation made her stumble over the phrase.

  'No, I want it in your own words,' Miles Johnstone said when she'd finished. She sensed a smile enter his voice as he put a fingertip on her peaking-out clit and kept it there. 'I'll just touch this bud ever so lightly to remind you how kind I can be to you, sweetheart. If I feel that you're not being sufficiently humble I'll take my nice friendly finger away.'

  'No - I beg. Keep touching me,' Debbie pleaded, closing her eyes in near-ecstasy and pushing her mons against the friction. 'I promise that I'll say...'

  Each self-belittling word deserted her as Miles played with her pussy. Then he stopped the movement, and just held his finger teasingly in place. Debbie's clit made her do the talking.

  'I want... I want you to finish spanking me over my pants,' she muttered shamefacedly. 'I want it really hard.' She searched for further shameful images. 'I... em... deserve to be made to squeal a lot and wriggle and beg.'

  'Yes, you do, do
n't you?' the Masculine Mode manager said. He stroked each swollen labial lip. 'And what else do you deserve to happen to you, my naughty Miss?'

  'To... have you take my pants down,' Debbie forced out.

  The man was almost purring now as he cupped her pubis. 'You mean you know you deserve to be spanked very hard on the bare?'

  'Yes, I... cause I've been a wicked girl, because I've been wilful.' Debbie squirmed with additional shame as she debased herself further. The urge to climax was colouring everything.

  'And when your arse is the third shade of red, the hottest and sorest shade, what will you do to please me?' the spanker enquired softly.

  'I'll take you in my mouth. I'll lick you from balls to shaft tip,' Debbie said. It was the most submissive image she could think of. To her surprise, Miles thought of an even more blatant one.

  'I think I'd rather have you kneeling on the bed, with your head resting on your arms and your red rump sticking right up in the air,' he said thoughtfully. 'That way I could look at your hot bum as I fucked you, and could even spank it further if you continued to be bad.'

  'Yes, sir - I'd push my arse right up for you. I'd beg for your cock. I'd ask really nicely for each thrust from it,' Debbie whispered, rubbing her engorged clit against his leg.

  'I'm sure you will - but for now I'm not interested in your hungry little hole, only in your disobedient bum,' Miles said. He squeezed each pantied cheek. 'How many of the spanks with pants on are you still due, girl?'

  'Ten, sir,' Debbie replied, recalling each focused and fiery whacking she'd already endured.

  'Lucky for you that you remembered,' Miles said, 'else I'd have had to start that particular chastisement all over again.'

  'You wouldn't, would you?' Debbie whispered, appalled at the prospect.