6 of the Best Discipline at Work Stories (7 page)

   
Arrrgh
, she groaned after a particularly heavy blow. It seemed that her
bottom must have broken under that blow, she thought. She couldn't
understand how she could be taking this kind of pain. This had gone on
for hours. No, it couldn't be hours. But how many blows had she
received? She tried to count, to estimate, but she couldn't.
Fifty?
A
hundred?
Two hundred?
It could have been any of them. If could have been
their sum. She had no reference, no way of knowing. She knew that she
was in utter agony, but she had been in agony moments before from the
hand spanking, and that had been love pats compared to this.

    Finally it stopped and she was permitted to stand. She lifted herself
off the desk, her breasts sore and bruised from the pounding, her face
and hair soaked with tears. Every movement brought agony from her
buttocks. She tried to stretch even though she knew it would hurt, but
suddenly she was forced to bend over slightly, her legs spread extremely

wide
, and
John
spoke to her.

    "You spoke to me a moment ago. That is forbidden. You shall be severely
punished for that. That's worth several spankings like you just received
for that offense alone. But you pleaded," he spat the word as though
it had burned his tongue. "You asked for mercy. I'll give you mercy. Now
stand still and if you fall over I'll give you fifty extra!"

    The paddle slammed into her, and
Charlotte
almost fell over right then.
Her ass hurt so unbelievably much that the new pain, blinding as it was,
scare made a difference. She almost wanted to laugh. "Na,
na
,
na
,
na
.
You can't hurt me
anymore
! You can't hurt me
anymore
!"

    But the paddle continued to strike her, and in the standing position it
seemed to find new life in her poor rump, sending incredible rivers of
pain through her body. On and on and on the paddling continued, until
Charlotte
was sure she'd received at least fifty more blows, and she
wondered desperately how many more were to come.

    She danced for the paddle, waving her bottom from side to side,
wiggling and twitching her buttocks, moving her hips in and out in
grotesque and degrading motions that caused her to blush in spite of her
pain. Her breasts were bouncing and flying with her dance. But nothing
stopped the terrible flow of pain that
John
was administering.

    Again and again the paddle came up, striking her rump and lifting her
into the air. So many times had her bottom been struck and jiggled that
she felt it should be ready to fall off at any moment. It was so sore,
so
raw,
she could barely breathe when she thought of it. And that was
about all she could think of.

    Suddenly she noticed that the blows were less frequent, and perhaps
even less strong.
John,
it seemed, was tiring. The blows were slow and
steady now, good solid spanks that caused groans to effortlessly pour
from her mouth, but she no longer had to bit her lip to keep from
screaming.

    Then
John
took the paddle to the backs of her thighs, alternating
between each side. On this virgin skin the pain was unendurable, and
Charlotte
found herself dancing without trying. When her thighs were
thoroughly red,
John
moved on to her calves. Then back to her buttocks
and thighs.

    It had to be over soon, it had to, she thought desperately. But the
steady rain continued for several minutes more. When it finally stopped,
her heart was light even when she heard
John
say that that spanking was
a good start toward her punishment. She was just so happy that it was
over for now she could hardly contain herself. And her desire was so
huge and desperate she felt could mount a telephone pole to satisfy her
cravings.

   
John
applied more cream to her buttocks, commenting that they were
colo
u
ring nicely.
"Got some good welts there, girl.
Excellent.
Keep you
in line, those welts. A touch from my hand will feel like a sound blow
from a paddle."

    He turned her around and began slapping her breasts. Not especially
hard, but stinging blows that brought colo
u
r to her breasts and made them
feel huge and awkward.
Charlotte
couldn't help but feel the breasts
bouncing on her chest. It made her feel sexy and desired, like she was a
lingerie dancer. Unconsciously she began to move with blows, a slow,

uninhibited
dance.

    "Good, excellent!" cried Mort. "Keep it up!" He stepped away from her
and she continued the dance feeling cheap and vulgar and she closed her
eyes to block out the sight of the man she was learning to hate.

    Suddenly a blinding pain to her left breast awoke her and she shrieked
and clutched at her breast. It felt like her nipple had been sheared
off! She stood frozen in terror and stared at Mort. He stood in front of
her with a soft smile on his face, a long thin riding crop in his right
hand. "There's plenty more where that one came from," he said with a
cruel smile. "Now put your hands back behind your head and dance!"

    Somehow
Charlotte
obeyed. She thought of her father and the company and
everything she had already "invested" in this evening and knew she'd
have to pay whatever he asked. She danced and winced when he lifted the
crop. The flapper on the tip caught her nipple perfectly and waves of
pain flooded
Charlotte
's body. She shivered and moaned and shook
her head
violently. Her hands ached, literally ached to grasp her poor, tender
breast and console it, but she instead danced and wiggled her body to
please her angry master.

    Her right nipple was greeted with the crop next, and then, in a blur of
pain and confusion,
Charlotte
felt her mind leave her body. She was aware
of the pain only distantly, and she watched herself quivering and
shuddering with each stroke from that crop. She was aware of every part
of her body: the pulsing hunger between her legs, the aching of her
fingers which were clenched far too tightly, the wild, uncontrolled
beating of her heart, the skin of her legs and buttocks that tensed and
stretched and screamed in pain as she wiggled and danced. She knew what
she felt and yet did not feel it. She was lost in a haze of desire and
pain and as she watched herself, she felt that explosion building
between her legs,
fuelled
by the passion ignited by her stinging nipples
and swaying breasts, and she felt that explosion tear through her body
and she screamed in astonishment at the engulfment it produced, a
wonderful, filling, satisfaction that warmed her entire body and then in
a flash it was gone,
a
nd she was only
Charlotte
, naked and dancing before
a stranger, her body covered with welts and stripes of pain.

   
John
paused. He took the crop and pushed it between
Charlotte
's spread
legs and found her pussy and entered, rubbing her delightfully with it.
She cringed and moaned and desperately wanted to squeeze her legs
together and scream. She had an impulse to rip to crop from Mort's hand
and thrust it up into herself as far as it would go and masturbate until
she turned blue and fainted.

    Suddenly the teasing crop was pulled away and then, like the tongue of
a serpent, it licked at her sex. A stunningly raw source of pain filled
her body.
Charlotte
screamed like a dying bird and her hands broke from
her neck and she felt to the ground moaning, her hands between her legs
rubbing at the incredible burning. She distantly felt the crop landing
all over her body and Mort's shouting and cursing. The crop struck her
legs, her buttocks, her back, and then fell across her front, striking
her arms and legs and belly and the sides of her breasts, but still she
could not move, could not release herself.

    Another orgasmic explosion passed through her body and in a moment
Charlotte
was free, sobbing, being pulled to her feet. The crop struck
her between the legs again and again and again and
Charlotte
couldn't
help but spread her legs and offer herself to it, luxuriating in the
delicious kiss of crop against her naked sex. The pain was now
synonymous with pleasure, a wild, uncontrolled pleasure she had never
before known, an engulfing, mindless pleasure, animal in its intensity
and human it its depth. The pain made her body move but did little else.

    She felt herself being thrown onto the desk, hands and feet bound to
the four corners, but she did not care. A blindfold covered her eyes but
it did not matter. The crop played with her body, torturing her breasts
and nipples and her hips and legs and belly. It did not matter.

    Then she felt the thick pulsing finger of Mort's manhood throbbing
against her thigh. It was stiff and hard and she wanted it. She moaned
loudly and screamed, "Give it to me, please, don't tease me!" The cock
entered her easily, thrusting through her entrance with a passion that
defied reason and began to pump and probe at her insides. She had never
before felt so engulfed, so entered, so completely and utterly pierced
and consumed. She flailed wildly and pumped back at
John
the best she
could with her body pinned flat against the table. There was a fantastic
groan and then a cry of tremendous pain and suddenly she felt the full
weight of Mortimer
Mortimer
against her body. His body was shuddering
violently and she could feel his cock pulsing and exploding inside her
and she soared and peaked and with a desperate sigh she came and he came
and in a daze they laid there silently, exhausted and spent.

    It was late.
Charlotte
opened her eyes. She was naked but no longer
bound or blindfolded. She was lying on Mort's couch. She quickly
examined herself and found that
other than an indescribable soreness
that filled her entire body from pussy to headache she felt fine. She
was sticky with sweat and juices, though, and longed for a shower. She
wondered if
John
had a private shower she could clean up in.

    She saw him and watched him silently. He was standing by the far window
and staring out at the world below. He was fully dressed as she'd seen
him earlier and he didn't look at all like he'd been fucking like a
maniac rabbit only minutes earlier. Or was it hours?
Charlotte
had lost
all track of time.

    She stood and stretched and went to go get her things.
John
turned to
her. "One more thing before you
go
."
Charlotte
froze. She watched him in
silence as he walked over to the bar and picked up a long, thin white
cane.