by Sarah Veitch
Her belly rubbed against his dark grey suit as he pushed her panties down to her mid-thighs and unveiled her peachy bottom.
'Right, let's get this backside nice and naked, and give it the spanking of its life.'
'No one's ever spanked it before, sir,' Jo-Anne muttered, hoping for leniency.
'In that case,' Gordon Wesley said, 'it's well overdue.'
The first spank on her bare bum was exploratory rather than reproving, as were the next eleven or so. Thereafter, her boss started to put more ire into his arm.
'You must obey all safety instructions! Show due deference to your superiors!' he instructed, punctuating alternate words with a hard buttock-slap.
Jo-Anne grimaced at the heat radiating through her bare bum, squealed as handprint followed handprint. 'I'll wear the goggles and earmuffs from now on, sir!' she gasped.
The senior manager stayed his hand, and for a moment Jo-Anne thought that her spanking was over.
'I'm truly sorry,' she whispered, twisting her head round to look up at his face. Surely now he'd comfort her with kisses and the relationship would swiftly and erotically progress?
'I have to make you truly sorry,' the man said, beginning to trace the hot marks left by his lashing fingers. Erotic arrows winged their way to her pubis, and Jo-Anne flopped down again with languid need. 'It would be easy for me to leave this at a few token smacks,' the forty year old continued, 'but as your employer I should impart a prolonged and painful lesson to those upturned cheeks.' He fondled those same squirming spheres again, kneading firmly at the redness. 'When you think of your soft sore bum you'll remember to wear your hard safety hat.'
'It was my goggles and ear muffs I forgot to wear!' Jo-Anne shot back, her spirit reasserting itself.
'And now you're forgetting your manners,' Gordon countered, doling out eight full-force whacks.
Jo-Anne yelled from the first to the last and moved her bare bum from side to side in a futile attempt to avoid each buttock-based smacking. Her haunches felt slightly swollen, had an all-over glow. She looked around reproachfully at her writhingly vulnerable little hemispheres and pitied their scarlet shading. God, he knew how to make a girl's buttocks dance! At the same time Jo-Anne felt a grudging new respect for her employer. After all, she could have gotten him into trouble with her acting-out.
'How many more spanks am I due, sir?' she gasped out between stern whackings.
'Oh, I'll know by the colour of your arse when you've had enough,' Gordon Wesley said. The conversation obviously over, he began to spank her again with easy vigour. He spanked the top of the right orb, then the top of the left. His palm connected with the centre of the right sphere before landing with similar impact on its twitching twin.
'Ah! Ow! Oh!' Jo-Anne squealed as the heat in her naked red rotundities intensified. She'd wanted to gain her boss's attention, but hadn't quite bargained on this!
'Let's stop for another little break,' the forty year old said after a few more resounding smackings.
Jo-Anne nodded, glad of the opportunity to catch her breath.
'I'm being a good girl now, sir,' she said submissively as the telephone to one side of them began to ring. Gordon let go of her wrists to flick on the answering machine, and she used the moment to lever herself up and sit, kitten-like, on his lap, looking sweetly sexual. Beginning to feel in control again, she kissed the side of his neck.
'What are you doing, Ms Kern?' His voice was neutral, unreadable.
Jo-Anne faltered. 'I was... just being friendly, sir.'
'Well, I'm in the midst of disciplining your ill-behaved bare bottom. Save your offers of friendship until I've finished tanning your naughty cheeks.'
Jo-Anne blushed with new shame. 'I thought that you were finished, sir,' she muttered, shifting about on her radiant extremities.
'No, failure to obey the plant safety rules requires a much more severe spanking,' her employer said. He slid both palms underneath to cup her rosy hemispheres. 'Of course, if you prefer, you could have an official warning instead?'
Jo-Anne bristled at the thought. 'God, no - I want promotion one day,' she muttered. She shivered with delight as he continued to caress her hot bare bum. Maybe there was a way to make him keep touching her which would also ensure that today's hard spanking stopped?
'I've a confession to make,' she whispered, nibbling briefly at his nearest earlobe. 'I ignored the safety measures deliberately in the hope that you'd notice me.' She grazed again at his ear then sat back on her haunches and looked fully at him, expecting to see the self-satisfied smirk of bolstered male ego. Instead her boss looked even more grim.
'Are you really trying to tell me that you deliberately risked your own health and the reputation of this company in order to flirt during working time?'
Put like that, it sounded reprehensible. For once lost for words, Jo-Anne nodded her head.
Gordon Wesley helped her to her feet. 'A sound spanking obviously isn't going to be enough,' he sighed, running his fingers through his hair in a distracted gesture.
Jo-Anne caught her full lower lip in her small white teeth. 'What... what do you mean?'
'Lucky that I keep a pair of slippers here for when I'm working the late shift. They'll connect nicely with a flirtatious female arse.' So saying, he marched her across the office to a four-legged square stool. 'Let's call this staff training session Raising Awareness,' he said with a half laugh as he helped her bend her body over the seat.
Her buttocks were indeed vulnerably raised - and it was a vulnerability which increased as Gordon Wesley brought a cushion over.
'Just to stop your belly from rubbing against the wood as you squirm,' he said evenly, pushing the bolster into place.
'Very thoughtful, I'm sure, sir,' Jo-Anne replied with as much sarcasm as she could muster. She'd wanted to make him notice her good points - not redden her badly-behaved arse! Still, he'd made it clear that she could walk away at any moment. It must be the more brave and curious part of her psyche that was making her stay.
The brave part faltered as Gordon Wesley laid on the slipper for the very first time. The smooth rubber size nine lashed her upturned buttocks.
'How many, sir?' the trainee manager yelped out, holding on tremulously to the rungs of the stool.
'Mm? Oh a slippering is like a spanking - one tends not to decide a specific number of whacks in advance,' the older man said.
'You mean I'm getting more than six of the best, then?' Jo-Anne whispered.
Gordon applied his slipper to her elevated rump again. 'That depends on your attitude, doesn't it, my dear?'
'Yes, sir. I'm a reformed character, sir. I'll be the best employee in the whole world from now on!' Jo-Anne promised as she sensed him raising the slipper in the air.
'Let's prove that,' her boss murmured after a moment's gloating reflection. 'Let's have a little test.' He set the slipper down on Jo-Anne's back, and her bottom gave a little twitch of trepidation. She could feel the rubber resting against her skin and knew how it felt as it whipped her bare backside.
'A test, sir?' she muttered warily.
'Mm,' said Gordon, 'an impromptu safety quiz.' He stroked her raised sore bum and Jo-Anne moaned with lust and pubes-based wanting. 'Obviously a girl has to be able to think quickly in a hazardous situation,' he continued in a merciless voice.
'Yes, sir,' a baffled Jo-Anne whispered.
'So I'll expect an immediate answer to my questions, or that arse will pay a punitive penalty.'
'I'll answer right away! I promise, sir!' Jo-Anne gasped out. She reckoned that she knew all that there was to know about the plant's security measures. She knew where every safety station and outdoor shower had been built.
'What does the sign by the lined tank say?' Gordon asked. As he spoke, he ran a finger down Jo-Anne's bum cleft and all non-sexual knowledge went out of her memory. Moaning, she opening her thighs in a gesture of need. If only he'd slide a finger up and down her feminine opening. It was so hollow that it hurt.
'No answer equals another application of my slipper,' Gordon said. He picked up the footwear and brought its sole smartly down on her upturned bare cheeks.
'Ah! Ouch! Ask me another question,' Jo-Anne muttered, tensing and untensing her bottom in a centuries-old cadence.
'How many burners are in each furnace?' her employer quizzed. Again he stroked his way down that most sensitive secret crease and the girl almost swooned with wanting.
'Please, sir,' she whispered huskily. 'Oh, please!'
'No, please wasn't the correct answer. Forty-eight was,' the man said matter-of-factly. 'That raised rump simply isn't trying, is it, my sweet?'
'It means to try, it just...' Jo-Anne's focus again shifted to her hot hindquarters.
'It doesn't know the safety drill,' her employer murmured, 'so it'll have to taste the nasty hard slipper again.'
Jo-Anne could sense him moving about, doubtless lining the footwear up with her tenderised buttocks. She trembled with uncertainty and anticipation as he got into place. She couldn't decide which was worse - the aching glow in her upturned hemispheres or the unquenched heat between her parted legs.
'Can't we just negotiate?' she muttered raggedly. The rubber sole smarted its try-harder message into her posterior and she bucked and yelled.
'Safety measures aren't negotiable. Protective rules are there to be obeyed,' Gordon said.
He, too, was here to be obeyed. She was getting the message. And she wanted to obey him, Jo-Anne thought lustfully - she really did!
'Let's try again, shall we?' Gordon continued in a conversational tone.
Jo-Anne felt a sudden streak of irritation at his complacency. 'Oh, let's!' she muttered in a challenging voice.
'A bum can earn extra marks for insubordination,' her employer continued.
'It'll be a good bum from now on!' a contrite Jo-Anne said. She wasn't so sure that her clitoris would be good for much longer. If he fondled her furrow again she might spontaneously disobey...
Gordon Wesley seemed to sense the sexed-up state she was in. 'Lewd wriggling and wrong answers will result in a more disciplined derriere,' he said matter-of-factly.
'Going on to the French test, are you?' Jo-Anne sparred, then gasped as he clapped the slipper across both elevated cheeks. A percentage of her being wanted to mock him so that he chastened her arse to its absolute limit. Another percentage wanted to cup both well-punished globes in her small silken hands.
'Back to the safety exam, Ms Kern. What does PH stand for?' Gordon Wesley queried.
'Potential Hazard!' the trainee manager gasped out as he fondled her secret gully from start to end.
'Good girl. You got that one right.' She felt a small surge of disappointment as he put the slipper down.
'Now for a question about the pressure control valves...' Gordon Wesley continued. He rimmed her anal ring with a knowing finger as he completed the question and she moaned and squirmed and her answer didn't make sense. 'At this rate your grievance procedure will go on all day,' the older man warned, fingering the eroticised groove between her upturned buttocks again.
Jo-Anne groaned wildly and pushed her haunches back, unable to bear his teasing.
'Slipper me as much as you like later,' she half-sobbed, 'but for God's sake let me come!'
'You're forgetting who's in charge here,' Gordon Wesley murmured, slippering her scarlet spheres for another thirty seconds. 'Is this what you've been begging for?' he continued, gliding a hand between her legs...
Exactly six months later Jo-Anne was in reminiscent mood as she wandered around the plant's outdoor section. She and Gordon had had a good half year, but their relationship had recently reached its natural end.
But their beginnings in bed had been great! She smiled contentedly as she looked at the factory's feedstock, then shivered with delight as she contemplated the splitter and control valves. She must be yearning for a new lover; leastways everything today was reminding her of sex! Jo-Anne gazed at the steam which rose from the fireman's lake and identified with its churning heat.
Lost in thought, she turned towards the methanol unloading area. Belatedly she realised that one of her superiors was watching each unprofessional move.
He stared coolly. 'You were daydreaming on duty, Ms Kern.'
'I didn't mean to, but... well, yes, Mr Andrews.'
'You've also gone missing from your post most weeks for at least an hour.'
'I know, but...' She could hardly admit that she was often in Gordon Wesley's office getting a sound spanking! 'I'm very sorry, sir,' she said.
The grey-haired director sighed. 'But saying sorry isn't enough, is it, my dear young woman? You'll still have to be disciplined for going absent without leave.'
So the rumours about him had been true! Jo-Anne felt a new rush of lust at his use of the word disciplined. She peeked up through her lashes at his challenging grey eyes.
'I deserve the most stringent correction. How exactly will you do that, sir?' she whispered, then stared hopefully at his heavy leather belt.
Motion Pictures
Lights. Cameras. Action! The sound man and the leading actor got into position behind the punishment trestle, but where was Leanne?
'Has she sneaked away to do her makeup again?' Dave the video producer asked the rest of the production team. He tried to keep his tone light hearted, but the irritation he was feeling showed through.
'Christ knows why she bothers,' the camera man added. 'I mean, the viewers are only going to see her arse.'
But what an arse! The flawless suntanned hemispheres were divided by a slim deep crease. The twin rotundities were taut yet softly smooth against a man's eager fingers. Dave knew just how good they felt - he'd moved her bottom into various angles whilst helping her to pose for his CP videos. It was a bum that deserved to be caressed and squeezed and held and gently bitten, a bum which visually cried out to be spanked.
But Leanne wasn't into spanking, unlike the other CP models he used in his film work. She was in it for the fame and the short working hours and the modest fortune; it was as simple as that. Not that she made his life simple with her frequent makeup breaks and increasingly unpunctual hours.
'Take six!' she grinned now, strolling back in wearing only a triangle of white cotton panties and a cobalt blue dress which skimmed the tops of her thighs and just begged to be lifted.
'You'll get six of the cane for real if you cause any more delays today!' Dave muttered, and was gratified when she blushed. Maybe there was an ounce of submissiveness in there after all, a desire to be dominated? He'd taken her word for it that she wasn't sub...
'I'll stick with the padded paddle,' Leanne answered, lowering her belly over the high punishment trestle and pulling down her pants for the camera's benefit. Her taut posterior was now beautifully bared.
The leading actor bent to tie her wrists and ankles to the furniture's legs, then stood back to admire his handiwork. 'You're going to stay like that for the next hour, slave,' he murmured, 'whilst I tan that pretty arse.' The camera zoomed in on the girl's helpless backside as the actor playing her Master lifted her dress up and drew the paddle back.
And brought it down across both tethered cheeks with an echoing whack. Dave smiled as he watched and heard; the soundtrack would reverberate nicely. It was a pity that Leanne insisted on this special softly upholstered paddle which dealt her almost painless slaps.
He felt his groin tauten as the mock discipline went on and on. All the other video models really took the cane, the belt, the whip across their naked arses. Their bums got red and their sexual centres got wet. 'Want to finish me off?' they often groaned at the end of a long day's punishment filming. And he used his fingers on their clits, knowing that in a few moments they'd turn their own slim fingers in the direction of his cock.
Leanne literally did nothing for him - but she did everything for his video's circulation figures. She was the girl who got the most fan mail because she had the best backside. It was a pert and cheeky
screw-you kind of an arse, one that tilted up as if to say that it was better than other arses. One that men fantasized about taming with their hard-slapping hands.
'Cut!' someone said as the action came to its scripted end. The crew started to gather their gear together and drifted towards the doorway.
'Can someone untie me?' Leanne asked.
Dave looked over. 'In a minute, love.'
'You'd better see this first,' gasped Pam their Public Relations Officer, hurrying in.
She handed him the latest issue of Hot Bum magazine which was published by a firm who produced rival spanking videos. Leanne Just Has Her Bottom Rouged For Photos And Films read the front cover line. Dave's heart started to beat faster and he took a very deep breath before he looked at the article inside. My God, she'd betrayed him to the enemy. She'd shown that his company rouged her bottom thus resorting to artifice.
The video-maker flexed his spanking palm and looked towards Leanne's still-bared bum. The makeup girl had wiped the scarlet blusher from it as soon as filming ended. He suddenly realised he could redden those globes for real.
'Leanne, want something to read while you're tied up?' Walking over to her face he crouched down and held up the tell-tale magazine. Then he watched her eyes widen with embarrassment and surprise.
'God! They promised this wouldn't hit the stands until I'd finished your video, the lying pigs!'
'You're planning to work for them exclusively from now on, then, I assume?' After all, she'd queered her pitch with him by selling her confessions.
'Well, yeah.' She tugged at the thick ropes that held her wrists and ankles in place. 'They promised much more cash.'
'What about loyalty?' Dave said. He got up and moved round to her rear, stroked the smooth bondaged orbs till she wriggled and drew in her breath sharply. 'Doesn't this bum have any allegiance to me, my dear?' He took his time, fondling and gently palpating each cheek. 'After all, I took you on despite the fact that you weren't willing to be genuinely spanked like the other girls. Gave you a start in the film industry when you were a complete unknown.'
