The series continues, with Emily now married.

By Frances Stephenson

Part 5 – The Office Dinner/Dance

James had continued to do well in the Solicitors’ office and he was aware that his general behaviour was under scrutiny as well as his professional competence. The next step was an assessment of his young wife as a suitable wife for a Partner of the Firm.

The Office Dinner Dance was due to be held in a few days and would provide her with an opportunity to show herself off. Emily was aware that this was an important event for her husband and resolved to do her best to be a credit to him.

She purchased a new dress, pale yellow; it showed off her terrific legs as well as her pretty knees and a few inches of her soft thigh. With a modest ‘v’ neck it fitted really well around her well shaped breasts. Pale yellow tights and yellow high heels completed the ensemble. She examined herself in the mirror.

‘ Not bad,’ she thought. ‘Attractive without being too sexy.’

The Dinner part of the evening progressed well and Emily was seated between two quite senior partners. She seemed to get on well with both of them and chatted easily. She reminded herself that she should make sure to chat pleasantly with some of the Partners’ wives, keenly aware that their approval was probably just as important as that of their husband’s.

Again, she sensed overall approval and started to relax. She was mindful of James’s strictures about mixing her drinks and had stuck to champagne all evening.

‘Time for a modest change,’ she thought, and switched to vodka and tonic.

As the evening progressed, it became obvious that Emily had drunk a bit more than was good for her; not ‘tottery drunk’ but enough to make her flushed and slightly reckless.

Having done her best with the Partners and their wives, she looked around and was immediately scooped up by a handsome dark-haired man with a knowing look in his eye. He proved to be a good dancer and expertly guided Emily to a dimly lit corner where some couples were engaged in some smoochy and slow dancing.

The stranger pressed himself against Emily who, without thinking, automatically responded. Before she realised what she was doing, her right arm was clamped around his neck and he was passionately kissing her. Again, she automatically responded. She felt his hand clutch her bottom and his body press against her. She was aware that she felt a bit woozy but nothing too bad. Besides, she was enjoying herself, pleased that her partner was so obviously attracted to her.

Before she knew what was happening, James arrived on the scene and coldly directed her out of the dance and drove her home. He was clearly very annoyed.

Once they were home, Emily hoped that his obvious bad mood would have passed, but it was not to be.

“Take yourself off to bed,” he rasped. “We will talk about this tomorrow. I will sleep in the spare room as I have an early start and have to be on Bradgate by 10am. I will see you at around 5pm.”

He then turned on his heel and went upstairs.

Emily was devastated by his remoteness but realised that nothing else was going to happen that evening and she might as well go to bed, disappointed that the very promising evening should have finished on such a sour note.

James drove up to their house and carried a long parcel under his arm. Once inside, he left the parcel in the dining room before going to find Emily who, for once, was not there to meet him. He found her in the kitchen looking very pale and apprehensive.

“Hello, darling,” she whispered.

“Have you recovered from last night’s alcohol intake?” Said James, coldly.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied nervously.

“Come with me,” he said, leading the way to the Drawing Room. “Now young lady, it is time to review your conduct last night.”

“Yes, James, I am truly very sorry and I hope I did not cause you any embarrassment.”

“You did, of course, but let us go through the various points.”

It was clear the main focus of James’s anger was her dance with the dark-haired man, but he was clearly irritated that Emily had drunk so much at this important occasion in spite of the fact that he had specifically asked her to go easy on the alcohol front.

Emily was, by now, shaking as James returned with two canes.

“Take off your clothes,” he rasped. “I don’t want anything to get in the way of the thrashing I intend to give you.”

Shaking, Emily removed her dress followed by her bra and white knickers. Her dreams of an evening of enthusiastic reconciliation had disappeared and the prospect of a severe caning loomed. James was swishing a dreadful looking yellow cane, similar to the ones that were used on her at school.

“Over the chair,” ordered James.

“How many strokes are you going to give me?” Pleaded Emily.

“Enough to make you sorry for dancing with the Office Casanova in that lewd and disgusting manner. I want your bottom to look good and sore, added to which I will continue to thrash you until my anger and frustration have disappeared. Bear in mind that I may well give you an extra thrashing later in the week.”

Emily bent over the chair, locking her legs into position and grasping the front legs as tightly as she could. She could tell by the look in James’s face that this was to be a hard thrashing and it would need all of her resolve to accept it.

With that, the first stroke landed. It was indeed hard; the sharp whipping pain followed immediately by a much deeper, bruising pain. She squealed but held her position.

James then proceeded to stripe his wife’s delectable bottom with good firm whippy strokes, not super hard but hard enough to make her really squeal with each one. He gave her eight strokes and noted, with satisfaction, that the urgent movement of her hips indicated the pain she was suffering.

“Up you get, Emily, and off to bed with you, and don’t forget that you may well get another thrashing later in the week. I will be away tomorrow night but will be back on Thursday. When you nurse your well-caned bottom, reflect that the Office Casanova was clutching your bottom, on a dance floor, for all to see, your pale coloured dress making it even easier to see what his right hand was doing. I am disgusted at you behaviour. We will talk more on this matter when I return.”

Emily finally got to sleep. Her thoughts were chaotic. Apart from the severe pain in her bottom, she was afraid the she had seriously damaged her relationship with James.

She awoke in the morning only marginally refreshed. She went for a shower, pausing to examine herself in the mirror. It came as no surprise to see eight painful looking welts adorning her pretty bottom. She would need to use Arnica ointment after her shower. She found some of the ointment but would need to buy more and resolved to drive to town later in the morning.

She dressed in loose-fitting lightweight cotton trousers and moved, stiffly, about the house. Later she drove to town and bought some more arnica, adding an extra tube having remembered James’s promise to cane her again when he returned from his business trip. She wondered how she would bear another caning over her sore bottom.

She walked stiffly back to her car, pausing to chat to two of the Partner’s wives she had met at the dance. They exchanged pleasantries, but both women had a sympathetic air about them. They had noted Emily’s stiff gait and, bearing in mind her behaviour on the dance floor, had drawn the obvious conclusion.

‘Young James has obviously given his young wife a sound thrashing,’ thought Nancy Tennant.

Emily excused herself and continued her journey back to the car, unaware that both ladies were watching as she stiffly made her way back. Both ladies agreed that young Emily had been taught a severe lesson but it did the young couple no harm, in these ladies eyes.

James returned home on Thursday to find Emily waiting for him in the drawing room. He noted she had taken the cane out from under the stairs and had placed it prominently on the side table. She was obviously expecting further retribution.

He noted that she was wearing a short navy blue skirt which was one of his favourites, together with a waist-length white top; she had obviously taken some trouble with her appearance. She did look good, thought James as she stood nervously before him, her face pale and her eyes huge and apprehensive.

“Please, James, let me apologise for my behaviour at the dance,” she said with a tiny break in her voice. “I am so very sorry I would give anything for it not to have happened. Please thrash me again if you think it will make things better between us, I do so hope you won’t because I am still quite sore from the thrashing you gave me on Tuesday, but please do what you think best.”

She looked so apprehensive and penitent that James was tempted to take her into his arms, but there was something that had to be resolved before they moved on.

“There is still one aspect of your so-called dance that needs clearing up, Emily, come here,” he commanded. “Place your right arm around my neck. I want to replicate the position on the dance floor. Now Peter’s right hand was clutching your bottom, like this.

Emily winced slightly as her husband’s hand grasped her still sore bottom.

“Is this the correct position?” Asked James.

“Yes, it is,” responded Emily, quietly.

“We are now left with the matter of the two left hands,” said James. “Now tell me truthfully. A lie at this point would be very stupid and would be sure to be found out. Where was Peter’s left hand?”

“It was just under my breast, James,” she faltered. “But the way things were going, I am sure that the next move would be upwards.”

“That’s very honest of you,” said James. “What about your left hand?”

“It was around his waist,” said Emily. “Both my arms were pulling him closer to me. I am so sorry.”

James released her. “I think I have thrashed you enough,” he said. “Let’s close the book on this whole incident.”

The effect on Emily was immediate and she regained her colour and her poise.

“I think you had better return this to ‘Below Stairs’.” He indicated the cane which Emily took and put away with huge relief.

“Do let’s try and forget this episode,” said James. “I quite enjoy spanking you, but caning you was something quite different and not something I would want to repeat with any regularity but, nevertheless, you know that the cane will be there if ever it is required.”

“Yes, James,” she whispered.

“While we are on the subject, do you think your bottom will have recovered by Sunday evening?”

“Oh, yes James,” said Emily. “Even if it’s not, I would like to have a good firm spanking. I am just so pleased to have avoided a second caning. I will make sure that I write up the diary before then.”

“See that you do,” said James, smiling at her.

Part 6 – The Tennis Tournament and Emily is spanked by Celia

Emily had debated with herself whether to go ahead with the game as the marks of her sound caning by James were still clearly evident, but she was more or less OK and she enjoyed tennis.

She had carefully chosen low-cut knickers so that the marks would not show and resolved, not on any account, to bend over to pick up a tennis ball but rather to bend her knees to retrieve the ball. She had examined herself closely in the mirror and was pleased to see that her knickers satisfactorily covered her well striped bottom, even those strokes which had landed on her overhang and one, in particular, painful stroke which had landed slightly lower.

The main problem was the end of the cane had whipped onto the very upper part of her right thigh and had left two painful looking marks which, although faded, were still clearly visible. There was only one way that she could play tennis and not clearly advertise that she had been soundly thrashed, and that would be to buy a pair of sports knickers that would have a bit of leg on them, and this she proceeded to do.

The day was quite hot and the eagerly awaited Tennis Tournament was in full swing. Emily was playing in a rather strenuous singles match. It was the semi-finals with the show piece final game being played on the following day. She was a good average player who had been well taught, added to which her competitive instincts stood her in good stead and she had slightly edged ahead as the game progressed.

It was Emily’s turn to serve. She positioned herself on the base line, tossed the ball in the air, turned her hips sharply anti-clockwise before hitting the ball sharply. Her short tennis skirt swirled showing her knickers almost to the waist. It was a stylish serve rather than a powerful one and attracted some attention, due mostly to sight of her excellent legs and pretty bottom.

Nancy Tennant and Jean Donald, two of the Partners’ wives, watched closely, secretly hoping for evidence of Emily’s thrashing, but the trunk style knickers had satisfactorily covered all the caning evidence, much to Emily’s relief and to the disappointment of those spectators who were in the ‘know’ about Emily’s punishment.

Perspiration, the hot day and the new knickers had each contributed to Emily’s overall discomfort and she could not wait to get home and have a relaxing and cooling shower and then slip into something loose and soft.

The match had ended with Emily winning a hard fought contest. She was delighted and looked forward to tomorrow’s final. She stayed for a short time chatting to her friends but soon excused herself, heading for the much anticipated shower.

Celia, her mother-in-law, insisted on coming around for a cup of tea and a brief chat. Emily got on reasonably well with her rather severe-seeming mother-in-law and agreed, but stating that she was really looking forward to a cool and refreshing shower.

“Of course,” said Celia. “Please go right ahead; you deserve it after your victory this afternoon.”

Emily look herself off and had a thoroughly enjoyable shower in the master bedroom’s en suite. She was standing in the bedroom quietly drying herself with a fluffy bath towel when a tap on the door sounded.

“Come in,” called Emily, knowing that it could only be Celia. Nevertheless she made sure that the bath towel modestly covered all of her front from her knees to her neck.

“Please excuse me, I was making tea and wondered if…”

She stopped in mid-sentence, staring over Emily’s shoulder.

Emily glanced behind her and gasped. One of the full-length mirrored doors of the wardrobe was open and reflected Emily’s charming back view from head to toe. To Celia’s interested gaze, the view showed ample evidence of Emily’s caning in unmistakable detail.

“Oh my dear!” Cried Celia. “You have certainly been very well disciplined. My son must have been very displeased to give you such a hiding.”

Realising that there was nothing to be gained by dismissing the subject, Emily proceeded to tell Celia about the Office Dinner/Dance, her behaviour and the subsequent retribution. By which time, she had dried herself and dressed in a soft caftan.

She noted Celia was very interested in these revelations and quite animated in questioning Emily before the pair of them went down stairs to tea.

James was on one of his trips to America, and her own parents were in the Far East, so Emily decided on a party and invited some of her school friends to stay, together with some of her local friends. They were quite a raucous bunch but Emily felt like some fun and this slightly racy and boozy crowd would certainly provide that.

The evening progressed, like many other parties given the ingredients, with unlimited booze, good music, lots of pretty girls and unattached males. There were clouds of suspicious smoke coming from the conservatory but this was to be expected in a party of this type.

People got louder and louder and the music continued with its relentless THUD, THUD, THUD. In the early hours, a ring on the doorbell heralded the arrival of the Police in a response to a complaint about the noise. They asked if they might look around and Emily readily agreed.

In a little over ten minutes, they had left. The music was now very much quieter and had lost its primeval appeal, so the party started to break up.

On Monday, Celia received a telephone call from her old friend, Chief Superintendent John Mellor. “Celia,” he said. “I have seen a report from the Duty Patrol who visited your son’s house on Saturday in response to a complaint about noise. It was nothing more that a lively party but the officers thought they smelt cannabis. There seemed to be insufficient evidence so they moved on but their suspicions appeared in their log. I understand that your son is in America but that his wife is in charge of the house. The officers were sure that she was not under the influence of drugs but it is her house and she must bear most of the responsibility.

“Yes, John, I do see that,” responded Celia. “I will see that the matter is dealt with as soon as possible.”

“I know that your son’s wife is very young, Celia,” said John. “But she must realise that this could have been a serious matter and that she should be more than well aware of her responsibilities, especially if James is going to progress through his firm.”

“Please leave the matter in my hands, John,” said Celia. “I will phone James in America later on and between us I am sure we can come up with a solution that will satisfy you.”

“Very good, Celia. I knew I could rely on you; I should like a speedy resolution to this minor problem so please could you phone me before midday on Friday when the week’s ‘call out’ review takes place?”

A reflective gleam came into Celia’s eye as the significance of James being in America, Emily’s parents being in the Far East, and the need to resolve the matter by Friday, sank in. ‘Emily clearly needs a caning, or at least a sharp spanking, and I am the only one at hand to administer it,’ she mused.

The very thought made her quite excited. To deal with Emily’s delightful bottom was like a dream fulfilled and she paused to ponder on different scenarios.

Celia calculated the time difference and called James just after his breakfast. She explained all that John Mellor recounted to her and the need to have something resolved by Friday at noon.

“She wasn’t involved herself, then?” Said James.

“No but it was going on under her roof and we must assume she knew all about it and it was therefore with her tacit consent. John Mellor clearly expects some action to be taken. You will not return until next week and if you think that Emily should be caned or, at the very least, spanked I could do it for you.”

“I will think about this and phone you later. In the meantime, please do not mention anything about this to Emily.”

He phoned Emily later in the day and caught her before she went to bed. He was clearly irritated but not unsympathetic.

“There is no doubt that if I were present you would be across my knee for a sharp spanking,” he said. “I don’t think this warrants a caning as, after all, you did not smoke pot yourself and you can only be responsible for your guests to a limited extent.”

“Yes, James. Thank you, James,” whispered Emily, aware that she was in for a sore bottom. “Do you want to spank me as soon as you return?”

“Regrettably Chief Superintendent Mellor wants this to be buttoned up and finished by Friday morning,” said her husband. “Your parents are away and the only other person who is available and certainly capable is my mother. I am sure that she would agree to spank you. You will remember that she is an ex-headmistress of a girls school and has plenty of experience in dealing with naughty girlish bottoms.”

Emily listened to what James was saying, her eyes wide with apprehension and her heart beating ever faster, her free hand reflectively stroking her bottom.

“It would be good if you were to invite Mother to stay overnight,” said James. “I am going to leave the number of spanks to her discretion but I warn you it will be a sharp spanking. I want Mother to be able to tell Mellor that you have been dealt with in a severe and appropriate manner. I would like you to wear your short red skirt and white OTK socks. They make you look so penitent and so attractive. I will be thinking of you.”

Emily said goodbye and looked at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. A pale but calm face confronted her, with her huge eyes being the only giveaway to her inner turmoil. The wretched butterflies had returned!

Celia was highly delighted. She was, at last, in a position to deal with her daughter in law’s stunningly spankable bottom. She poured herself a nightcap by way of a small celebration before taking herself off to bed.

Emily phoned Celia on Wednesday morning. “I am sure you know why I am calling,” she began, hesitantly. “But I wondered if it would be convenient for you to spank me this evening. I would rather get it over and done with as soon as possible.”

“Yes, my dear, this evening would be convenient for me too, but I think in view of what is going to take place you should call me ma’am,” said Celia. “At least until this session has been completed.”

“Yes ma’am, of course.” Said Emily, a little hesitantly. “Why don’t you come around at 7 and stay the night. It would save you the drive home.”

“Thank you, Emily, that is most thoughtful of you,” replied Celia.

At about ten to seven, Celia arrived at her old house. She collected her small overnight bag and locked the car. She was wearing a navy blue high-collared trouser suit which, she thought, made her look rather menacing. It was sufficiently loose around the shoulders as Celia wanted to make sure she was able to swing her arm well!

She rang the bell and the front door was almost immediately opened.

“Good evening, ma’am,” said a very nervous and rather scared Emily.

Celia was charmed by Emily’s docile attitude and the sight of Emily in a red mini skirt, matt white ‘over the knee’ socks, well-polished black shoes with a slight heel to them and a crisp white blouse.

“Please ma’am, would you spank me now?” Gasped Emily. “The waiting really winds me up.”

“Yes, of course,” said Celia. “It has to be a sharp spanking, so I think you should be over your ‘spanking’ chair, knickers off of course.”

Emily reached to her waist and took down her white knickers and delicately stepped out of them. She then dropped them on one of the chairs. She placed one of James’s handkerchiefs on the spanking chair.

“I can crumple it in my mouth if I get too vocal,” she explained “We don’t want any more complaints about the noise, do we? May I ask, ma’am, how many strokes are you going to give me?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but resign yourself to the fact that it will be a good two dozen and very probably more,” said her strict mother-in-law. “Now let’s make a start; bend over, Emily, tighter now, head well down, hollow your back a bit more, that’s good, now hold that position and hold tight. Here it comes.”

With that warning, Celia slightly cupped her hand before landing the first spank with plenty of energy. It landed with a satisfying noise. There was a small grunt from Emily, more of an acknowledgement the spanking had started than an outright reflection of pain.

The next three strokes were delivered with the same accuracy and severity as the first one and mews of pain came forth together with some hip movements as she struggled with the sting.

Four more and Emily’s bottom was turning an ever darker pink. Four more and low but insistent squeals were making themselves heard.

‘That’s a dozen,’ she thought. ‘Am I half way through?’

Somehow she thought not as there was a cruel streak in Celia and Emily had noted the gleam in her eye when Emily’s punishments were mentioned. In the meantime another four which hurt much more and really made her poor bottom sting were delivered. She was now squealing much louder and her hips were in urgent motion.

She heard Celia tell her to keep still and keep her bottom properly presented.

Another four were administered. Then another four spanks were forcefully delivered, and by now Emily had started to cry out.

“OW OW OW OW AARGH NO NUH OUCH OUCH!”

“That’s two dozen, young lady,” panted Celia, highly delighted with her own performance and more than pleased by the sight of Emily’s red and sore-looking bottom which seemed to glow. “Last lap, so brace yourself.”

The sharply stinging pain resumed and Emily cried out in distress. She scrabbled about and found the handkerchief which she crumpled before stuffing it in her mouth. She knew she would soon scream with pain and wanted to be ready. The sharp spanking continued with the stinging slapping noises now joined by heartfelt, although muffled, cries.

At last, thirty-six was reached and Celia surveyed her handiwork. ‘Not bad at all,’ she mused. Emily’s marvellously spankable bottom now looked the part, red and glowing.

Celia placed her hand on Emily’s hip. “All right, my dear, it’s all over now.”

Emily proceeded to prise herself from her punishment position and to gently cherish her sore and glowing bottom. She stamped her feet and did a little dance to try and dissipate the sharp pain.

Celia thought she looked utterly charming.

Emily was weeping softly and mewing with pain punctuated by soft squeals, but the sharp stinging pain was gradually receding, helped by Emily cradling her hot and sore bottom. The hectic flush in her face was dying down but her lips continued to pout in a most attractive way, in Celia’s eyes, that is!

In a surprisingly short time Emily had recovered some of her poise and although her face remained flushed she seemed well on the way to a complete recovery. Emily did not attempt to change, or to put on her knickers, her bottom was far too tender to undertake that exercise, the soft red skirt being her only modesty screen.

On Thursday morning, after breakfast, Celia asked Emily about her bottom.

Emily recognised the spanking scenario was not quite over and responded accordingly. “Thank you for asking, ma’am.” She says. “Still quite sore but getting better.”

“I think I had better check before phoning John Mellor. Please come here and bend over.”

Emily did as she was bid and faced away from Celia before lifting her skirt and taking down her knickers. There was still clear evidence that she had been soundly spanked and dull red areas could be clearly seen. After a close examination, Celia told Emily to replace her knickers.

“Your bottom still looks sore, Emily,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am, it certainly is both sore and uncomfortable,” stated Emily.

Later on Thursday, Celia phoned John. “Just to let you know,” she said. “That James’s wife, Emily, has been severely taken to task for allowing things to get out of hand in my son’s house.”

“Thank you,” said John. “But between ourselves may I have a bit more detail?”

“She was very soundly spanked, by me, on her bare bottom,” stated Celia. “Three dozen very well delivered spanks which made her very sorry for herself and the pain will last for quite some time. I hope that is sufficient information for you. In fact, I checked this morning and her bottom still looks quite sore.”

“Thank you, Celia, it sounds as though you really did a very good job,” said John, an image of poor young Emily’s glowing bottom clear in his imagination.

Emily phoned James later on Friday.

“How is your bottom?” Inquired her husband.

“Still painful, James,” she replied. “Your mother gave me a really hard spanking and I am still feeling the effects!”

“At least it is all over and done with,” said James, softly, recognising that Emily was still quite emotional about her ordeal.

“Oh James it was awful,” cried Emily. “So much worse than when you spank me, although you sometimes do it quite hard. I would so much rather be spanked by you. I can’t wait until you return. Please come back soon, I am counting the days.”

“I will fly back on Friday,” said James.

“I will so look forward to it, darling. I will make sure my bottom will be more than fully recovered by Sunday.”

The End

© Frances Stephenson 2013