Continuing on from the earlier story

By Wendy A

Friday arrived, and there was a small party for Linda leaving which was held in Mr Ross’s office. Apart from Mr Ross, Steve and Stan, there was Katie, his secretary and some of the sales staff including Fran, Fiona and Sally. This was probably the first time she had been in the office since her whacking on the previous Monday evening, the difference this time was that the sales staff had changed out of their sportswear.

I watched Sally with interest. She appeared to be completely at ease and chatted to everyone including Mr Ross. She smiled and even shared a joke with him and Steve. I guessed that many of those present had been whacked by Mr Ross at one time or another. There was no “atmosphere” as I would have expected, I wondered how I would handle chatting to Mr Ross if he had whacked my own bottom, how could I look him in the eye? It appeared the staff accepted they had done wrong and were prepared to take a whacking and move on without any ill feeling towards Mr Ross or Steve. For the sales staff there was the added embarrassment of being whacked in front of the rest of the staff.

On the Monday morning, I had the office to myself and the extra desk was removed; I was going to miss Linda. At about 10.30 there was a knock at the door. I stood and opened it to find Fran and Fiona standing there. They said that I may be missing Linda and they had come for a coffee. I quickly made coffees for the three of us. They were both in sports kit, Fran in red shorts and a white top, Fiona had on a pretty tennis dress.

It was soon time for them to get back to work; they only had a 15 minute break mid-morning and giggled about the consequences of being late back. We agreed to meet after work and go to the local pub for a drink.

Mr Ross was my next visitor. He sat at my desk and asked how I was feeling. I replied that everything was fine, but in truth I was a little uneasy and had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I am not sure if he was aware of my concerns and how the whackings had affected me. He mentioned that I should never hesitate to call on him or Steve if I had any doubts; better to ask a silly question than make a stupid mistake, he smiled. That was the second time that phrase had been used, the first time it was Steve. I had lunch in the canteen and chatted to some of the sales girls. Katie popped in that afternoon and we had a quick coffee.

That evening I met Fran and Fiona after work and we went to the pub. I broached the subject of my concerns, or rather one concern, corporal punishment. I mentioned that both Mr Ross and Steve had told me to ask for help rather than making a silly mistake. They explained that this was a warning to me, they would have no problem helping me even if I should have known what action to take, they would never forgive me for screwing up if I took some action without referring to them, for example messing up the computer system.

Fiona told me that she had been caned once by Mr Ross, four very painful strokes with only a thin pair of sports shorts covering her bottom. She had entered the wrong amount of money in the till. Instead of calling Steve, she had tried to correct the error herself and ended up blocking the system. The company handling maintenance had been called and it was several hours before the system was up and running again. At the end of the day she had been called by Mr Ross and Linda had witnessed her caning. It had hurt like hell and the marks had lasted about a week, much to the amusement of her boyfriend. She knew she had been stupid and the consequences.

I slowly became more confident and rarely called on either Steve or Mr Ross for help. Life in the store continued much as usual with the odd whacking on the last Monday of each month.

One day Fran and Fiona asked to see me after work; we went to the pub as usual. They told me that they had received a new line of gym and aerobics clothing and that Steve was insisting that some of the girls wear leotards. The problem was, of course, that these would be somewhat revealing. Already it seems that some of the male staff of other stores nearby specifically came in to ogle our girls in their skimpy sportswear; leotards were considered a step too far. I had to agree with them that I would not wish to wander around the shop in a leotard and leggings. I promised to do what I could to support the sales staff although had little idea what I could achieve.

A day or two later Steve came in for a chat and a coffee. After chatting about a few problems, I raised the subject of the new lines and mentioned that I had heard that some of the girls were reluctant to wear leotards in the shop. He acknowledged that he knew of the problem and was thinking of ways of displaying the items without causing unease to the girls.

The very next day I was called to a meeting by Steve. All the senior sales staff were present. He broached the object of the meeting, the leotards and the management’s policy for staff to wear sports clothing. Fran and Fiona spoke first and mentioned that some of the girls, including themselves, did not wish to be the subject of ogling by guys from neighbouring shops. I added my own support and a couple of the guys present also said that they could fully understand how a girl might feel being dressed like for the beach but not in the context of the store.

Steve came up with a possible solution; firstly they would not have to wear the leotards all day long, just for a couple of hours, and that there would be at least two girls or possibly three at a time. The girls would be approached to volunteer and would receive a bonus.

The leotards appeared in the store and the problem seemed to have been solved without anyone backing down.

One day Steve came in to my office to inform me that there would be a special discipline spanking and said that all staff would be in attendance. This was exceptional due to the nature of the matter; one of the guys had lifted a girls sports skirt and smacked her bottom hard. Unfortunately for the lad, Fiona had seen his action and reported it to Steve. The caning was scheduled for the following morning at 8.30 before the shop opened.

At just before 8.30 the crowd had gathered and we filed in when Mr Ross opened the door. Jim the culprit stood on his own. There was first a lecture; he would never permit any staff misbehaving on the premises and in particularly anything that was of an insulting or physical nature. He said that normally he would have sacked Jim on the spot but Val had pleaded for him and as a result he was to receive 6 strokes of the cane. At this he told Jim to bend over the desk while Mr Ross took a cane out of a side cupboard. I had never seen a cane before, it looked frightening. He gave Jim 6 hard strokes over his shorts and had him grunting loudly by the end. When he finally stood there were tears in his eyes. We filed out to start work and I learnt that Jim had been sent home for the day. Over the next couple of days Jim looked depressed but it was not long before life returned to normal.

It was about 2 months after I had taken over the Finance job that I was asked to witness a special discipline session. Mr Ross was absent so Steve would handle it. We went into Mr Ross’s office and shortly a young member of the sales team knocked and entered. Steve ran through her offence; she was accused of stealing cash from one of the tills. At first she had denied being guilty, but after checking her locker some notes were found. As money had been going missing on a regular basis, and she was suspected, the till she was using contained marked notes; some were found in her locker. Rather than instant dismissal she accepted to be caned, she was to get 4 strokes.

Steve asked whether she had anything on under her shorts. Her answer was not convincing so Steve said he would go outside and she could dress as required in front of me. Steve left and Jane looked pleadingly at me.

“You know the rules, you had better just have one item covering your bottom. If not, you will almost certainly lose your job.”

She looked resigned and lowered her blue gym shorts. She had on a pair of white cotton briefs, took them off and put her shorts back on. At that I opened the door and Steve came back in. Jane was now crying and I could see her hands trembling.

Steve told her to bend over the desk while he went to the cupboard for the cane. Her bottom was encased in the skin tight shorts. Her bottom was quite small but prominent, a real bubble butt. Steve tapped her bottom a couple of times and then gave her the first stroke. It was not hard but her reaction was immediate, she stood up and clutched her bottom. Steve waited a minute or two then told her to get bent over and warned her that if she stood again or tried to cover her bottom with her hands then she would get extra and I would be asked to hold her down. She slowly settled back over the desk. Steve let go with the next stroke, she squealed but stayed down. A louder squeal followed the third stroke. I could see Steve tighten his grip on the cane, the fourth one was harder than the previous ones. She let out a scream and stood up clutching her bottom. Steve told her to go and get changed and go home for the remainder of the day.

Another memorable special discipline session comes to mind. One afternoon at nearly 5.00pm I was sorting out my desk to leave for the day when Mr Ross called and asked if I could come to his office. On entering he invited me to sit. He informed me that he wanted me to witness a paddling. I felt a little uneasy. I had been called to witness a couple of canings but not a paddling. He informed me that Katie and Fiona had been out at lunchtime and had had far too much to drink, they were drunk and not in a fit state to work. They had also been very late back at work without prior permission. He had considered caning them but had finally decided that 6 with the paddle was sufficient. Katie had been sent to the changing room to put on a pair of tennis briefs and they would be back at any minute.

At that there was a knock at the door. Katie came in first followed by Fiona. Both had heads bowed and looked like a couple of naughty schoolgirls. Katie still had on her usual black skirt and Fiona had on a tennis dress. For my part I did not know where to look, both had become good friends and we often met at weekends and had a drink in the evenings after work. I could even feel my own bottom tingling.

Mr Ross broke the brief silence. “Who is to be first?”

Fiona moved forward, went to the desk, lifted her dress and bent over. I had half expected her to have worn thick cotton panties and was surprised to see that she had chosen a relatively thin pair. If she were to be caned, I am sure that the marks would have been visible through the material. Mr Ross also seemed to have noticed the skimpy nature of her panties. Would he go easier on her?

I soon found out; she was going to get a hard paddling much as I had seen at the Monday sessions. She did not react to the first whack other than a tensing of the muscles in her bottom and legs. The next two met similar slight movement. He must have hit her harder on the fourth. She grunted and bent her legs. The fifth brought a louder grunt and a swaying of her bottom. The sixth was the traditional hardest and I could hear after the grunt her breathing, short sharp breaths. She slowly stood, adjusted her skirt and returned to where Katie was standing. Her eyes were wet but only the odd tear had run down her cheeks.

At this Katie moved forward. It was clear that she would not be able to pull her skirt up over her bottom, not that she was fat but rather the skirt was very tight. She unzipped it and unhooked it. She slid it to the floor and stepped out of it placing it to one side of the desk. She leant forward pulling her blouse up over her back. Like Fiona she was wearing thin white cotton panties. She had a cute bottom and I could easily understand her husband’s desire to spank it.

Mr Ross prepared himself for the onslaught on his secretary’s bottom. Like Fiona, she remained still for the first three, just the tightening of the muscles. At the fourth she let put a little squeal and I could hear her sobbing. With the fifth the tears were flowing and the sixth brought a loud squeal. She remained bent over for what must have been a couple of minutes which prompted Mr Ross to put a hand on her should and say: “It’s all over, Katie.”

She stood up slowly and turned, the tears were still flowing and Mr Ross handed her a couple of tissues. Mr Ross then told the two of them to tidy themselves up and get off home. I was about to follow when Mr Ross said: “I hope I never have to whack you, Wendy, but if you give me just cause I surely will do. Good night Wendy.” I left.

We never spoke of the special session and still met regularly in the evenings and at weekends.

I had been with Supersports for about 9 months and had got used to the routine. We were coming up to the annual audit and I noticed that Mr Ross had become short tempered. It was not that he feared that the auditor might find the figures wrong, his computer system produced everything he needed to know exactly where the company stood financially, but rather the amount of tax have would have to pay, what expenses would be allowed and which not.

The evening before the audit team was due to arrive, I was working late. I wanted to go through the figures one more time. I don’t quite know what I did but all of a sudden the screen went blank. My heart sank. I tried all sorts of ways to backtrack and seemed from time to time to have succeeded only to be devastated when I lost it again. After about an hour I was at my wits end. I went out of my office and noticed that Mr Ross’s office light was still on, I knocked and was surprised to hear him call come in. He was there with Steve, they were both sitting at the large table which was covered by designs of sportswear.

I was almost in tears as I explained what had happened. Steve said he would have a look to see if he could find the problem. It became obvious that my efforts to sort out the problem had made matters worse. We went back to Mr Ross and informed him that the only solution would be to call the computer company in the morning. He called the company and left a message on an answer phone. He suggested that I be back in the office by 8.00am and wished me good night. How he thought I would have a good night I really do not know.

I woke several times during the night. I had nightmares of bending over his desk and getting my bottom caned.

I could not eat breakfast and only managed a couple of mugs of coffee. I was at work long before 8.00am. At about 8.45am Mr Ross came into my office and informed me that the computer guys would be with us in about 15 minutes. After I had explained what I had done the previous evening I was to join him in his office for a meeting with the audit team. The computer guys arrived and I explained my actions as best I could. This was accompanied by sighs and “oh my god’s”. They told me that they would do their best to get us up and running as soon as possible.

On entering Mr Ross’s office, all eyes were on me. “Any progress?” Asked Mr Ross.

“Not yet,” I replied.

He was explaining that our computer system was down but they could start work on the paper records and that I was at their full disposal for the duration of their time with us.

After further discussions on the global financial position of the company, I showed the auditors to the rooms they would be using, one small office for the team manager and the boardroom for the rest of the team. I had set out the paper records the day before, bank statements, invoices, etc. The workload was distributed and they started their work.

Before going back to see Mr Ross I popped my head round the door of my office. “Any progress?” I asked. I did not like the reply which was punctuated with expletives.

I knocked on Mr Ross’s door and went in. He was there with Steve, Stan, and several of the senior sales staff. They were discussing how they would operate with the computer system down. It would mean keeping paper records until such time as these could be input into the system and we could start afresh.

We were disturbed by the computer guy. “Can I have a word with you?”

Mr Ross dispatched everyone to their posts and only Steve and I remained.

The Computer guy started. “Here’s how I see it. All of yesterday’s work has been lost and will have to be reprocessed as soon as we are running again. We have activated the back-up server and think that most of what we require up until the day before yesterday can be accessed. We plan to completely clean the main server.

“I doubt that we will be able to recover anything worthwhile from it. I will, however, take a copy of whatever we find on it. The download could take about one hour. We will then clean it and re-input the basic software. That will take about another hour.

“Finally we will copy the information from the back-up server, perhaps another hour, and finally we will test the result. That could take two hours. If all goes well you should be back online by about 3.00pm. You will then have to process yesterday’s transactions. We will then carry out further tests and if everything is working you will be fully operational you can then input today’s transactions.”

Not only had a black cloud descended but a full blown storm. Mr Ross thanked him and asked him to proceed as set out and he was to receive a report as each step was reached. He asked Steve to check that the manual systems were in place and to ensure teams would be available to re-input the transactions of the two days. Overtime would be paid and double time after 8.00pm if that were required, but we had to be back to normal by the following morning. Steve left.

Alone with Mr Ross I burst into tears.

“Wendy, control yourself.” He handed me some tissues.

I then started. “Mr Ross, I am so sorry, I really was stupid. I thought I was alone in the building yesterday evening, that’s why I tried to back-track. I know I should have reported to you or Steve as soon as I had a problem.” And then, I don’t know where it came from, but I ended by adding: “I know I deserve to be punished and will accept anything you consider to be right.”

At this he smiled and replied: “Let’s get things sorted out and then we will consider what is required. Your job for right now is to keep the auditors happy and liaise with the computer guys.” I was dismissed.

The computer guys worked miracles. We were re-inputting the previous day’s transactions by 2.00pm and by 5.00pm were inputting the transactions for the day. The computer guys did their testing and reported that all appeared to be running normally; they would be back in the morning to carry out a double check. It was about 8.00pm when I accompanied the computer guys into Mr Ross’s office. He reported as he had done to me and Mr Ross thanked him and his team, they left.

I turned to face Mr Ross.

“Right Wendy, it’s about time you were off home. We will speak later as to what actions I propose. Good night.”

Oh god, the uncertainty. What will he decide? Surely he will cane me, who will be the witness? Will he cane me in front of all the staff? I have caused chaos and everyone knows it was me that caused the problem. The cane hurts like hell, I am sure he will cane me, I have seen others caned, how will I cope? Will I be able to take it? That night I was still crying when I must have fallen asleep, fortunately I did not wake during the night, it was definitely mental exhaustion. The alarm woke me at 7.00am.

I was in the office by 8.30 and the computer guys reported that all seemed OK. I mentioned to Katie that I would like a meeting with Mr Ross during the day. The audit team were happy. They now had computer records to work from. In fact everyone seemed happy except me.

I managed to chat to Katie over coffee. “What do you think he will do?”

She replied: “I consider you as a friend and I will not tell you any silly story to help you, I will tell you the truth as I see it. Mr Ross is a stickler for rules and that they should apply to everyone. What you have done put our business in jeopardy, albeit temporarily. He does not forgive such errors, especially when they are aggravated by further stupid actions. You should expect a dose of the cane and as you know that will be bloody painful.” Despite her harsh words they did help, it let me resign myself to a caning.

It was about 5.00pm when Mr Ross asked me to come to his office. Steve was there.

“Come in Wendy. Have a seat.”

I sat at the table between him and Steve.

“Wendy, you know the rules; mess up and then aggravate that mess can only result in one sanction, dismissal.” My heart sank even lower. “I have been discussing with Steve, both of us would hate to lose you, you have fitted in and apart from your actions last Friday, both of us have been very pleased with your work. I am prepared to offer you an alternative, one that you may well not like but in my opinion is justified by your stupidity. As an alternative I propose 8 strokes of the cane. The punishment will be delivered next Friday afternoon after the office staff have left, as well as the auditors. It will also give you the weekend to recover which I can assure you will be necessary.”

I filled my lungs. Here was a crossroads. I loved my job, was delighted to have such a friendly bunch of colleagues, and knew even before he had spoken that I would be caned. I had imagined 6, but 8 would be even worse. With watery eyes I replied: “I will accept the caning Sir.” I was then dismissed.

Oh god, I would have to wait till Friday afternoon. My legs were jelly, my stomach was churning, I could see my hands trembling. How could I wait till Friday? It was surely part of the punishment. Why can’t he cane me now or tomorrow? Everyone will be looking at me knowing what is to come, some will be sorry for me. Others might just think that I deserve it, in the event everyone seemed sorry for me, “there but for the grace of god…” I was so conscious of my bottom, I felt that everyone was looking at it. Mr Ross would be looking at it as he lined up his cane. What would I wear? Oh shit, why make me wait?

Friday came quickly and slowly, my mind was in a spin. I don’t know how I performed from a work point of view, I was sure everyone knew, even the auditors.

Finally at 5.30pm on Friday there was the ring of the phone. “Wendy can you please come to my office?”

Steve and Katie were there.

“Do you have appropriate attire?”

I replied positively.

“Right, Wendy, you know what to do.”

I moved forward to his desk. As Katie had done, I unhooked my skirt and pulled the zip down. I eased my skirt down and stepped out of it, I placed it on the desk. I then leant forward, lifted my blouse and gripped the far side of the desk.

I could feel Mr Ross’s movements. He had gone to his cupboard and returned to behind me and to my left. I felt the cane touch my panties, white ones like Katie and Fiona had worn. They would offer little protection. The first stroke landed, I heard the swish and even the impact; it was a second or two later that I felt the pain, it was like an electric shock. I squeezed my eyes shut, my whole body tensed. He was tapping my bottom again.

‘Please not another one,’ I pleaded in my own mind.

There was the swish, the crack and then the pain. My eyes closed again and I could feel the tears expelled. Two and six to go, how would I survive?

There it was again, the cane tapping. The swish and crack, my whole body jerked forward in a vain attempt to move further from the pain, all it did was hurt the top of my thighs as they hit the edge of the desk. Again the tapping, I was ready for this one but that did nothing to reduce the pain, I cried out and tears were flowing down my cheeks. Half way through and my bottom was on fire, how could I take four more?

The fifth seemed to strike me lower on my bottom, the pain was excruciating. I might as well not have worn any panties. There was a numbness now, my bottom seemed detached from my body, it was not part of me but was like standing in front of an open fire, warming me.

The sixth and seventh did not produce the pain of earlier strokes, rather they added to the feeling of warmth. The last stroke again seemed to hit lower on my bottom and was certainly harder than the previous ones.

Eight, it was over. How had I survived? The tears had subsided, all I could feel was the warmth behind me.

Mr Ross spoke. “That’s it, Wendy, you may stand and put your skirt back on.”

I rose from my bending position and felt stiff, even with my hands providing assistance. I felt decidedly shaky, a little like after a long run. I kept my hands on the desk for support. Katie, seeing my problem, came over and put an arm round my shoulder. She picked up my skirt and helped me step into it. She then slowly raised it till it reached the tops of my thighs. Here she hesitated and said: “Hang on, Wendy, this may hurt.”

With one pull, she had my skirt up over my bottom. She need not have worried, my whole bottom was numb. She fastened my skirt and held my arm as I took my first steps, my legs now also felt detached from the rest of my body, they seemed to move by some automatic force and not because I was telling them what to do.

Mr Ross broke the silence. “Katie, can you look after Wendy and perhaps you could give her a lift home?”

Katie agreed and directed me towards the door.

“Wendy, I am really sorry that I had to discipline you like that. I really hope that I will never have to chastise you again, good night to the two of you.”

Katie led me to my office where I collected my coat and bag. I did not change my panties but slid them into my pocket. I would wash the tennis briefs and return them on Monday. We slowly made our way down the stairs and out the back to the car park, fortunately no one saw us. Sitting in the car was strange; it was like I was sitting on a rubber ring.

When we reached my flat she again helped me as I slowly walked to the main door. “Do you want me to come in with you?” She said.

I gratefully replied: “Yes.”

We went up in the lift and into my flat. She took my coat and bag and asked if I wanted something to drink. Perhaps a glass of wine? Perhaps not and I settled for coffee, she disappeared into the kitchen. By the time she returned with two mugs of coffee I was mulling over the events of the last hour, it was not a pleasant scenario and the embarrassment of being caned was sinking in.

We sat saying little as we drank the coffee then she said: “Do you want me to put some cream on your bottom?”

This slightly shocked me, she had just seen me being flogged and now would see the full effects on my bottom.

“Yes please, if you don’t mind. I am sure that it will need some help to recover.”

I moved slowly towards the bedroom and Katie followed. I held onto the back of a chair and managed to kick my shoes off. She helped me with my skirt and had some trouble getting it over my bottom. Next she helped me over to the bed and I lay face down. I told her where the cream was and she went into the bathroom. On returning with a jar in her hand she sat on the side of the bed. I felt her fingers as she took hold of the waist band and then slowly pulled my panties down.

“Oh god,” she said. “Your bottom is a real mess of cane lines and bruises, god that must have hurt like hell.”

She then started to cover my bottom in cream; she rubbed very gingerly thinking that it would be painful. Little did she know. I closed my eyes and concentrated on her ministrations to my bottom. I don’t know how long she had been applying the cream but all of a sudden I had an orgasm, she immediately stopped.

“Is that what a caning does to you?” She enquired, “I wondered how you were coping with the last strokes, it was like you were in a world of your own and were even enjoying the whacking.”

These last words were almost lost on me. All I could say was: “Thank you, Katie, I will be alright now. I will just lie here and probably drop off to sleep in a few minutes. Thank you again for all your support and I hope we can keep this just between the two of us.”

She leant over and kissed my forehead and then left the room. I was on my own.

The End