6 of the Best Discipline at Work Stories (6 page)

    The double doors opened and there stood
John
, roughly handsome as
always, his grim smile rather foreboding.
Charlotte
passed through the
doors. She shuddered when she heard him lock them behind her.

    "I see you are prepared to pay. Is that correct?" His manner was
formal, all business. She nodded and he smiled. "Then take off your
clothes."

    She swallowed. This was a little faster than she had expected, but she
did like getting right to the point. At least he wasn't going to mess
around. She set down her purse and began to strip. First she took off
her shoes and hose, delightfully wiggling her toes in the deep carpet
then the awful dress. Standing in her underwear she glanced at him, but
he seemed both impatient and indifferent at once. Without ceremony she
slipped off the bra and pulled down her panties.

    At once she felt chilled, cold air from the air conditioner brushing
her naked skin. Now
John
stepped forward, examining her closely. He
pulled back her hair and studied her face, her teeth. He toyed with her
breasts, weighing them with his palms, and comparing them to see if they
were as identical as they appeared to be. He passed his hand between her
legs, and forced her to spread them wide, and fingered her buttocks, his
fingers lightly spanking her. She held her breath, not sure what to say
or do.

    "
Charlotte
, you are now my slave. You will do everything I say the
instant I command it, or face dire consequences. Do you understand?" It
was not a question. He was utterly serious, and she felt afraid. What
have I got myself into, she thought. But a vision of her bank in ruins

flashed
over her eyes and she steeled herself. She nodded.

    "You will not speak unless I tell you that you may. You will only nod
and obey." She nodded again. As he led her over towards his desk,
something in her stomach began to grow cold. She felt within her a
complex series of emotions. She was stimulated, excited, but she dreaded
what was to happen.

    Suddenly her undefined fear took shape and became a cold reality. His
voice echoed in her mind. "You are still too proud. You require
discipline.
Severe discipline."
His enjoyment and satisfaction caused
her terror, but she also felt linked to him in their mutual excitement.

She shivered as his hand felt the roundness of her buttocks and the
smooth skin of her thighs. "Your skin is too pure. It must be reddened
properly."

    He motioned for her to lie across the desk. She did so immediately,
still wondering why she obeyed so willingly. Was she so afraid? Or did
she want it in some way?

   She stretched out awkwardly across the empty oak desk. It was so large
she was easily able to fit.
John
placed her hands behind her neck and
she understood that she should keep them there. This position forced her
breasts cruelly into the hard desk, and she wasn't sure which hurt more:
the stimulation of her sore nipples or the pain.

    "You are a very bad girl,
Charlotte
. You are very, very, naughty. You
are going to be punished
good
." His hands were feeling her bottom,
kneading it softly, gently rubbing it with his knuckles. "I am going to
spank you hard,
Charlotte
, very hard. And you are not going to cry out.
You are going to moan and groan and wiggle this pretty little ass of
yours, wiggle it like crazy. You are going to make it dance for me, just
to show me how much you appreciate the spanking, and how much you know
you deserve it, and how much you are paying for my little favo
u
r. Do you
understand?"

    Numbly,
Charlotte
nodded. Her heart was full of dread and fear just like
she'd known as a little girl, taken to be spanked by her loving father.
She trembled now, tears already forming in her eyes.

    The first few blows shocked her with its force, but didn't really hurt.
John
was using his hand. Each blow could barely cover both of her
buttocks, but he dealt them hard and furious, switching the focus from
one cheek to the other. Soon her bottom was throbbing. She could feel
the heat it generated, and she realized she was no longer cold. No, she
was hot.
Very hot.
Sweat poured off her body, and in agony she struggled
to keep her hands tightly clenched to her neck. She didn't know what
would happen if she moved them, but she didn't want to find out. The
pounding on her bottom was just aggravating the furious desire between
her legs.

    The blows were coming even harder and faster now, as
John
began to
relax and really let go. Again and again he spanked her, sometimes near
the top of her buttocks where the thin skin caused her to groan loudly,
other times cupping his swinging hand against her lower bottom, catching
her buttocks and lifting them, the force jiggling her entire bottom and
reawakening the stinging skin elsewhere.

    She groaned and wagged her bottom for
him,
desperate he should see her
cooperation and obedience and have mercy. But he continued to spank her,
harder than ever it seemed, and her groans grew louder than the spanks.
She couldn't believe a hand spanking could hurt so much. Her ass was on
fire, throbbing and stinging without relief. She could feel her
desire
increasing, the wet between her legs spreading onto the table. Groaning,
she wiggled her bottom, pleading without words.

    Suddenly it stopped. It was so sudden she could hardly believe it. It
seemed a dream. For a moment it seemed like all her life she had been
lying
there, being spanked. It was as though she had never been anywhere
else. Vaguely she heard a voice telling her to stand, and a sudden
painful slap on her bottom woke her fully to reality.

    Standing by the desk, shivering in the chill and her heat and pain, she
watched as
John
stepped over to the bar. After a moment he emerged
carrying a container of cream. This he promptly spread over
Charlotte
's
red bottom and her breasts. His massage elicited groans of pleasure and
pain from her, as he relived the burning skin and stirred her libido but
reminded her how much she hurt. He forced her legs wider, and told her
she was never, _never_, to put them together.

    Next, he had her kneel and he blindfolded her. In the dark she suddenly
felt a thick finger slide into her mouth. In revulsion she realized what
it was, but complied, sucking on it like a baby with a bottle. In horror
she felt stings striking her backside and she realized he was beating
her with an object, a strap or whip. The blows were thin, but raised
tiny welts wherever they
laid
. She shrank from the whipping in despair,
but the cock was still in her mouth and she was forced to satisfy it,
the whole time encouraged by the whip.

    Suddenly he came and she almost choked, gasping at the sheer volume and
intensity. Her mouth was free, but a hand promptly forced her chin shut,
and with reluctance but relatively few blows of the whip--she was
learning quickly--she swallowed.

    Now she was allowed to stand again, and the blindfold was removed.
John
stood there, still in his formal suit, not a hair out of place. That
turned her on, somehow, and she ached to put her legs together, to
achieve satisfaction somehow. She could almost feel the liquid dripping
down her legs, but of course that was just her imagination.

    With another grim smile, he motioned to the desk. With a terrified look
she gasped and fell to her knees. "No, please. I'll be good. I've been
good. I'll be good. Please, no more." She was weeping at his feet.

    He slapped her face, hard. She stared at him in awe and terror. "You
are not to speak!" he shouted at her. "Now get on the table immediately.
You will take what I give you and enjoy it. You will never
beg
me to
s
top, except through your tears and groans and by wagging that ass of
yours in supplication!" He shoved her toward the desk and she
practically leaped onto it and assumed her former position immediately.

    Her heart was a flutter of confusion, of terror and fear, of
desperation, both to stay and to run away, of desire and of dread. She
didn't know what to do. So she obeyed. It was easiest to simply obey.
Then there was no struggle. She had no rights, no action was possible.
She would simply obey.

    But her heart went cold when she saw
John
returning from the bar with a
large wooden paddle. She began to struggle, wiggling on the table and
groaning. He
laughed,
a contemptuous laugh that told her he despised
her, which somehow made her feel sad. "It won't do
no
good, pretty lady.
I'm go
ing to
bring some colo
u
r into those cheeks if it's the last thing I
do!"

    With that he rested the paddle gently on her rump, and she felt her
bottom swell and the heat throbbing. Her ass was huge and red, she could
feel it. Then he lifted the paddle high and brought it down onto her
buttocks. As far as people experienced in such things would
judge, it
wasn't that hard of a blow. But for poor
Charlotte
, it was devastating.
Her ass hurt so much she actually thought she would die or pass out. Her
bottom just kept stinging and stinging and she thought it would never
stop.

    But another blow landed, quickly followed by another. In moments she
had forgotten about the first one, and concentrated on wiggling for the
others. The moaning and groaning she was having no problems with: they
came
unsummoned
to her lips and poured out of her like a soul during
confession.

    She bounced under the paddle, her body actually lifting itself off the
desk by several inches at a time. The wetness between her legs was
almost splashing over her thighs and stomach as she bounced up and down
on the desk. The blows were hard and frequent, and it was all she could
do to remember to breathe.

    Her hands were frozen on her neck. She was too petrified to move them,
but her fear was that they'd move of their own accord. The paddling
continued, the loud smacks deafening to
Charlotte
's uninitiated ears.
Harder and harder it came down, the heavy wood slamming her to the desk
and, like a magnet to iron, lifting her off as it withdrew.

    It was
ecstasy
. It was torture.
Charlotte
had never felt anything quite
like it. She was terrified that it wouldn't stop. But she was also
afraid that it would. Oh, to be brutally beaten like this, thrashed
constantly and thoroughly, day after day, week after week, year after
year, chastising her more completely than she'd ever been before. To
receive something you know you want but can't bring yourself to
receive.
Y
et here she was, willing allowing herself to paddled and
spanked by a complete stranger!