How to deal with a careless employee. Based on a true experience.

By Julie Baker

My name is James Robson and I’m employed as a Fertiliser Trading Director in a medium sized, family owned, agricultural merchants business in the West Country. I’m currently 46 years old and happily married with three children under the age of 15. My wife and I are happy in all aspects of our marriage but I do have a particular interest in adult corporal punishment. This is somewhat reciprocated by my wife but she unfortunately has a low pain threshold which restricts activities! Overall, though, we have a good and secure life which makes me wonder why I allowed myself, almost four years ago, to get drawn into a risky situation which could have lead to disaster for all of us. Enough time has now passed for me to relax on these worries and feel confident enough, having changed all of the names and locations involved, to share my experience with others.

I joined the company that I work for direct from university. We have always had to compete with much bigger firms but we have a loyal set of farmer customers who seem to value the personal touch that we can provide. The business has steadily grown over the years and I have risen through the ranks to be in charge of all the company’s fertiliser trading activities with a place on the main Board. My responsibilities have expanded over time and dealing with farmers can be quite complex and time consuming. The early part of 2010 was particularly difficult and in the autumn of that year I went to my boss and suggested that we take on a graduate trainee to assist me and provide a bit of succession in the business for the future. He agreed and we advertised for applicants.   The economy at that stage was not good and we got a huge number of applicants. By some fairly arbitrary means we managed to whittle the list down to 15 and 12 of those accepted our invitation to come for a first interview, which I was to conduct on my own. I would like to say at this stage that I had no training in recruitment and I’m happy to admit that I was more nervous about conducting the process than many of the graduates! Some I didn’t like and they were easy to knock out. Something like 9 of them seemed fine to me but I had no idea which ones would turn out to be the best suited for the job. I’m ashamed to say that I therefore selected for second interview the best boy, for reasons of political correctness, and the two prettiest girls.   I did the second interviews with my boss and we offered the job to Rebecca Jones who came from a local town and had recently completed a degree in history at Birmingham University. She was 21 and completely gorgeous with a lovely athletic figure and long legs, a slim waist and beautiful breasts. She wore close fitting, well tailored, clothes and she had a smile that could light up the whole room. A real stunner with a great personality and I couldn’t think of anything better than to have her sitting opposite me for the next few years. We offered her good terms and she accepted.

To begin with all went fine. She was popular with the rest of our staff and went down well with our farmer customers who were mostly male. Our relationship was good but totally correct. I was her boss and it was my role to teach her how to do her job. She seemed quite happy in those early days. There was no evidence of a boy friend and she put in whatever hours were required and seemed to have busy weekends doing things with her friends. Given that she had no agricultural background she seemed to pick up the requirements of the job fairly quickly. She made the odd mistake but that was to be expected in a trainee.   It’s funny in life how a small and seemingly insignificant happening can subsequently change the course of future events quite radically. Rebecca had been with us for about six months when we had a chance conversation. The office is open plan and at the far end from our desks there is a rest area screened off where some staff choose to sit to have their lunch away from the phones. I tend to eat my lunch at my desk but Rebecca always had hers in the rest area. The water cooler is also in this corner and this is how we got into conversation on this particular day. I was topping up my water and Rebecca happened to be at the table alone, eating her lunch and reading her Kindle. I casually asked what she was reading and without hesitation she said: “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

‘Interesting,’ I thought. I told her that I would love to read it also but felt that it was a girl’s book and I would be embarrassed to be seen with it. I recommended that if she enjoyed that book then she should see the film ‘The Secretary’. Nothing else was said and it was left at that. It did lodge in my mind though that Rebecca had revealed a potentially interesting facet of her personality.   After about 18 months I was getting increasingly concerned about the number of errors that Rebecca was making. I had a few informal chats with her in an attempt to reverse the situation but I didn’t seem to be making much progress. One morning, after a particularly costly mistake, I asked her to accompany me to my private office which was off the main trading floor. We went over the situation that she had got herself into and I explained that things really had to change and that if they didn’t I would be forced to start more formal disciplinary proceedings.

I don’t know whether it was the word ‘disciplinary’ that triggered a line of thought in her head but she immediately responded by saying: “Why don’t you spank my bottom instead?”

Understandably, I was totally wrong footed by this and there was an awkward silence while both of us took stock of the situation. Eventually I spoke.   ”Is that a serious suggestion?” I asked.

”Why not?” She answered. “I know you like that type of thing and maybe it would help me to be more careful with my work.”

I had to think quickly. What an opportunity I was being offered but I had to be careful that I wasn’t being lead into a trap. Anything down this line was going to involve some risk to my job and family life but the reality was, I couldn’t resist seeing where this might go to!

”OK, we can try this, Rebecca, but with two provisos. Firstly you will have to provide the implement. And secondly this is between us only and I will totally deny any involvement if this gets out. Do you understand and do you want to continue down this line?”

”Yes, James,” she responded.

”Alright,” I said. “You go home at lunchtime and make whatever preparations that are necessary. We will meet back in here this evening when all of the rest of the staff have gone home. If you change your mind in the meantime then please let me know.”

”I won’t,” she replied and promptly left the room.

Rebecca went out at lunchtime as suggested and returned with a roomy handbag and a different set of clothes. Instead of the skirt and patterned blouse she had been wearing she was now in a plain white blouse and dark blue trousers. The blouse contrasted nicely with her darker skin tone, and the trousers, which I would describe as posh jeans, were skin tight, presumably with some elastic in the fabric to help the look and fit. To my practiced eye it looked as though she had nothing on beneath the trousers, but this was purely guess work on my behalf!

It was difficult to concentrate on the fertiliser trade that afternoon, but 5.30pm is official closing time and the office gradually emptied. It wasn’t unusual for Rebecca and me to be the last away and by 6 o’clock we were the only two left. As the last vehicle, apart from ours, left the car park Rebecca caught my eye. I noticed that she had much more colour in her cheeks than normal and she seemed to be taking short nervous breaths.

”I’m good to go if you are,” she said.

I got up from my desk. She stood up at the same time and picked up her handbag which she carried into my office. I couldn’t help my eyes lingering on her lovely shaped bottom as she walked in front of me. When inside I closed the door and we assumed our normal positions on either side of my desk. I had decided to play this out in quite a formal atmosphere.

”Rebecca, we have agreed on a form of punishment in an attempt to improve your performance at work. Any second thoughts?”

“No, James.”

”I asked you to bring in something that can be used on your bottom. Have you got this with you?”

”Yes, James, I’ve got it in here.”

She was rummaging in her bag. She produced a cream coloured leather sandle and handed it to me. It was reasonably substantial with a rubber sole and soft leather at the front with straps to secure the shoe around the heel. The moulded sole had little rounded knobbles to provide some grip and was reasonably stiff but with some flexibility. It was the right-hand shoe of the pair, and I could see that it was a size 7. It seemed perfect for the job in hand.

I think she could read my thoughts as she then said: “That was the best that I could come up with at short notice. I spent some time selecting the best shoe for you to use on me and I think that one will be fine.”

”I agree, Rebecca, well done. Now I want you to get up and stand with your back to me, facing the door. I’m going to give you six of the best and I want you to stay in position until your punishment is complete. Please bend over and grab your ankles.”

This she did, leaving her feet about ten centimetres apart. She went down so easily with the supple joints of youth and well selected clothing that didn’t restrict her movements. Her trousers were now drum tight across her bottom and still no sign of any knickers which she might have worn for a bit of added protection.

“Are you ready, Rebecca?”

“Yes.”   I placed the shoe on her bottom and gave it a couple of gentle preliminary taps. I then gave her the first whack. Quite hard and I could hear a sharp intake of breath. She held her position and I gave her the next one, a little harder and a bit lower down. No reaction again. I was leaving about ten second intervals between the blows; long enough for a bit of recovery but not too long. To my mind a good slippering is all about building the pain one strike to the next, and the pace should be reasonably brisk. The third blow with the shoe generated a bit of a whimper from Rebecca and I could sense that she was only just hanging on.

“Do you want some time out so that you can rub your bottom?” I asked.

“No thanks, James. I’m OK and I just want to get on with it.”

The next two resulted in some seriously deep breathing from her, but still she had not broken down in any way. Pretty impressive, but I knew that I was going to give her the toughest one last. I think she knew this as well and I could see her clenching her buttocks as tight as she could. She let out a startled cry when the last one landed but still she did not get up from her position.

“OK Rebecca, that’s it over. You can get up now.”

She slowly straightened herself and when she was upright both of her hands went round to her bottom, massaging the painful area to ease her discomfort. Her eyes were filled with tears but none fell, as far as I could see.

“Thank you for taking your punishment so well, Rebecca,” I said. “And please will you try to improve your performance so that we don’t have to go through this again? You are now free to go home.”

She picked up the shoe from my desk, placed it in her bag and left my office with a brief thanks and goodbye. Within a minute I could hear her car leaving the car park and I followed soon afterwards.

The next day all seemed to be remarkably normal in the office. She came to work in a light coloured summer frock which made her look exceptionally beautiful. On a couple of occasions she playfully grimaced as she sat down opposite me, but otherwise it was as if nothing had happened the evening before. We were again the last to leave that evening and I asked Rebecca if she could spare me a couple of moments before she left.

Once again we were together in my office. This time I wanted to adopt a less formal approach and opened up by asking her how her bottom was. I expected her to say something like ‘sore’ but instead she got up from her seat and turned her back to me. She then leant slightly forward and raised the back of her dress so that it rested in the small of her back. This action revealed a pair of white satin panties which completely covered her bottom. She then slipped her thumbs into each side of the panties and lowered them to the top of her thighs.

What a sight. A most attractive 23 year old naked bottom, but heavily bruised from the previous days slippering. It was mainly dark in colour where the shoe had impacted but there were still livid red marks in places, particularly around the edge of any bruising.

“I’m rubbing arnica cream into it,” she said without moving. “So it should recover in a few days.”

“OK, thanks for sharing that with me!” I said. “So long as you are alright then I guess we put this behind us and move on.”

She got up and pulled her knickers back into place. She gave me one of her trademark smiles and swept out of my office. As with the previous evening I could hear her car leaving within less than a minute.

This was now a classic case of the ‘genie being out of the bottle’. I couldn’t seem to think about much else other than Rebecca’s bottom and the sheer pleasure of being able to spank it. I was aware the situation was wrong on so many levels but I couldn’t help myself. I knew that I had to find a way of stopping it warping my judgement but I couldn’t resist trying to find the next level. Rebecca’s quality of work was not improving so I also had the problem of trying to look after the interests of the business. I couldn’t cover all of her errors and other people in the business were starting to recognise her poor performance. About two months after the events in my office I decided that I needed to speak to her again. That day she was again beautifully turned out with a blouse and flaired skirt combination which I admired as I ushered her into my office. I started off by telling her that we were heading into a bit of a crisis.

“Do we do the same again, James, and see if that helps?” She offered.

A large part of me hoped that this would be her reaction and I was ready for her.

“Not quite the same again, Rebecca. I’ll see you in my office after work as before, but this time I’ll provide the implement. Is that OK with you?”

“Yes, James,” she replied. “That’s fine with me.”

So the scene was set again. This time it was me going home at lunchtime. I knew that everyone would be at work or school so I had no difficulty collecting the cane that my wife and I used. It is about a meter long, straight and a bit whippy. It is certainly at the lighter end of the spectrum and, being quite thin, is designed to sting rather than deliver a high impact. I had only used it very gently in the past and knew that I lacked experience in delivering a proper caning. I would have to be careful with Rebecca.

When the office began to empty I could see that Rebecca was looking more nervous than the first time. Once again her cheeks had coloured up but this time she was biting her bottom lip and shifting around on her chair. Maybe it was the slight unknown that was unsettling her and the thought did cross my mind that she might back out. She didn’t though, and, as the last person left, she once again gave me the signal to start proceedings. Soon we were back in my office in the accustomed positions on opposite sides of my desk.

“I need to get something from my car,” I told her. “Please stay where you are.”

I left the room and collected the cane from the boot of my car. I made no effort to hide it when I returned and placed it on the desk between us. She made no comment but she clearly must have known now where this was going. I had decided beforehand that I was going for broke!

“Rebecca, for this to be effective I need you to remove your skirt and knickers. I will then ask you to bend over the end of my desk and I will apply six strokes of the cane to your bottom. This will be a painful reminder that you must stop making errors that are damaging this business. Do you understand?”

“Yes, James,” she said. “I’m ready to get started.”

Without further discussion she then got out of her chair and turned her back to me. Firstly she removed her shoes, leaving her short white socks in place. Her hands then went to the back of her skirt where she released the top catch and lowered the zip. This enabled her to slip the skirt over her hips and down to her ankles. She then stepped out of it revealing a similar pair of panties to the ones that I had seen two months ago. After neatly folding her skirt and placing it on the chair, she once again slipped off her knickers to reveal her beautiful bottom to me. This time, though, it was creamy white, smooth skinned and no sign of any marks from the reasonably recent slippering.

She didn’t look at all embarrassed as she walked round to the end of my desk that I had cleared earlier. Still nothing was said as she sized up how to get into position. The desk was slightly high for her so she had to get on tiptoes to be able to get her hips onto the desk surface. Once on, she was able to lie her upper body flat on the surface with her arms cushioning her head. Her legs were slightly apart and her toes were still just in contact with the floor. Her bottom was perfectly presented for the caning apart from the tail of her blouse that was hanging slightly too low.

“Rebecca, please can you lift the tail of your blouse up so that it is clear of your bottom?”

This she did and we were ready to go. I picked up the cane and lightly touched her exposed skin.

“Here we go, hold tight,” I said.

I landed the first one dead centre and not too hard. No reaction from Rebecca but a faint red line became evident after a few seconds. I had resolved to leave longer time intervals for the caning; more like 20 seconds between the strokes. The second one I gave her was lower down and then a higher one to mark out the intended target area. That was half way and, apart from three lines on her bottom and some heavier breathing, I wasn’t sure that I was making much impact. Having refused a break at the half way point last time I didn’t offer the same this time. I did ask her if she was OK, though, and she answered in the affirmative.

“Three more to go then,” I said.

The next one did crack into her bottom with considerably more force. She let out a yelp but still held her position. The next one was equally hard and I could see that the last two strokes had left much more distinct marks on her bottom. I sensed that she was beginning to struggle. Five stripes and I angled the last one across these lines with about the same power as the previous two. Because it was going over areas that were already tender, this must have been the worse one for her. She let out quite a cry and started gently sobbing. I told her that it was done and that she could get up, but she chose to lie on my desk for a few moments presumably to regain a bit of composure. Soon she was standing and giving her bottom a gentle massage. She wiped her eyes with her hands and then returned to her chair to recover her clothes. Panties on first with some care and then she replaced her skirt before putting on her shoes. She was out of my office and into her car in double quick time.   I was again thrilled with the encounter but had a sleepless night worrying about where this whole scenario might go next. I still hadn’t resolved this issue in my own mind when I got to the office the next day. Rebecca was in before me, looking lovely and seemingly in a very good mood. I couldn’t help thinking about her marked bottom but underneath I was still troubled. I called Rebecca into my office late that morning.

I opened up by asking her if she was alright.

“I’m fine, thanks James. I’ve brought this in for you.”

She pushed a white envelope across the desk towards me. I opened it. It was her resignation. She thanked me for all the training that I had given her but said that she could see it wasn’t working out. She was going back to Birmingham University to do a Masters in history and then planned to train to be a teacher. Here was my way out and I was so grateful to her for taking the lead. I wished her all the best and, with holiday entitlement, she left at the end of that week.

Do I feel guilty about this whole episode? Well, yes, to a certain extent. It was wrong professionally but what a fantastically erotic experience, and Rebecca was fully engaged with what was going on. I got away with it and I now reason that it was something that happened between two consenting adults after working hours with no harm done.

The End

© Julie Baker 2016    Email Julie at