Rebecca’s side of the story

This is a fictional story to follow the True Recollection ‘Punishment at work’

by Pat Greenham

My name is Rebecca, and I noticed that my ex boss, James Turner, recently told the story of the punishments he gave me during my employment at the fertiliser company in the South West, four years ago. I thought that you might be interested in my side of the story.

I applied for the job as a graduate straight from university. James initially interviewed me and he came across as a nice chap but was strangely a little nervous. He was also a little flirtatious which I did not mind. I have always prided myself on fitness and knew that I have a figure to be proud of. I was invited back for a second interview with him and one of his colleagues, and was delighted to be offered the job, which I accepted. I had studied History at University and had fully expected to go into teaching, but toward the end of my third year I made the decision to change direction and try the commercial world.

It was soon time for my first day and James went out of his way during the first week to train me about my new world of farmers and their needs for fertilizer, a world I knew nothing about. We actually had a very good working relationship and the flirtatious side I had seen at interview was always in the background, matched by my slightly cheeky responses.

There was one incident that I will always remember that shaped what happened later. During my lunch break he caught me reading Fifty Shades of Grey and joked that if I liked that sort of thing I should get the film ‘Secretary’ on DVD. I decided to do as he suggested and in the privacy of my flat watched the film. Actually it was a rubbish film, but I did find the spanking scene quite erotic.

It was about a year into my time with the company that he told me he wanted me to start taking more responsibility. This was when it all started to go wrong. The additional responsibility included me calculating quotes for our farmer customers and as maths has never been my strong point I started to make mistakes.

On at least four occasions I was reprimanded and it had clearly cost the company money and I felt very guilty that I was letting him down. When it happened again, I was called into his office and told that he may have to consider disciplinary proceedings. I will never know where it came from but I simply said: “Why don’t you smack my bottom? I know you are into that sort of thing.” It was in no way pre-meditated, it just came out.

He looked at me strangely and paused as he considered what I had said. In truth, I was not sure I could believe what I had said, and he asked if I was serious. I told him that if he thought it would help teach me a lesson I was ‘up for it’. He told me to go home at lunchtime and return with a suitable implement and that after everyone had gone home he would deal with me as I had suggested.

Once at home, I looked for a plimsoll but instead settled for a sandal that was quite flexible and I was confident that he would find it satisfactory. Strangely I started to think about what was going to happen in a slightly erotic way and started to think about him looking at my bottom bent over and decided to change out of my skirt into a more provocative pair of tight trousers that I knew would show off my bottom. Against my own interests, I also changed my knickers for a thong so as not to have a VPL when I eventually was told to bend over, obviously reducing my protection from two layers to one.

The afternoon was one of anticipation. I had never been spanked, and was way too young to have experienced corporal punishment at school and had simply read Fifty Shades and watched ‘Secretary’. I knew that I deserved something for all my costly mistakes, it was me that had suggested a whacking, but at the same time I knew I was going to experience something new. I strongly suspected that he was into the subject and, as I did not have a boyfriend, the idea of my bottom being the subject of his attention was something I found strangely appealing. But how painful was it going to be? That was the unanswered question.

At six o’clock I found out. It was a surreal experience. When everyone had gone home, James locked the outside door and came back up to his office and asked what implement I had brought from home. I went to my large handbag and gave him the sandal that I had selected. He then took an authoritative stance and told me that I fully deserved to be beaten, a word that I had not heard before. He told me the sandal was a good choice and that he would restrict my spanking to a traditional six-of-the-best.

I was told to bend over and touch my toes. This was the moment, and I planted my legs slightly apart and bent right, over easily touching my toes and feeling my trousers tighten across my bottom. I know I have a great bum and was sure that he would like the view presented to him.

I felt the sandal touch my bottom. Then there was a load whack as he hit my bottom for the first time and it is true to say I was taken aback by the very sharp sting across my whole bottom. My instant reaction was this was not what I had hoped; it was bloody painful! Ten seconds later he whacked me for a second time in exactly the same place and I gasped as the second level of pain seeped into my bottom. Any thoughts of being slightly aroused by him looking at my bottom bent over had gone as I struggled to cope with the pain and wondered why on earth had I decided to dispense with my knickers for a thong.

The third whack came and was equally as painful, but at least I knew what to expect. James decided to leave a longer gap before the fourth whack and I was dreading it, but something strange happened. It was not as bad and it was almost as if my bottom was now warmed up and was ready for more.

Perhaps, looking back, this was the first time I was to get a hint of the strange world of ‘pain and pleasure’, and very strangely I was no longer dreading the next whack. And again, despite being no less hard, I could cope a little better with the assault to my bottom, which was now feeling very warm indeed. As I stayed in position knowing that I had one last whack to come, it was almost as I wanted it to be hard, and James did not disappoint with a fearsome whack harder than any other.

In James’s account he says that I let out a ‘startled cry’ after this last whack, but despite having tears in my eyes I knew that I had learnt something fundamental about myself, and yes, despite the sheer shock of the pain of the first three whacks, it had built a residue that had made the next three bearable, and yes, hard to admit but almost pleasurable. I did not admit this to James!

Standing up, my hands immediately went to my bottom and James said I had taken my punishment well. I thanked him and left the building before going home to have a look at the damage. Both cheeks had a round bruise which was quite impressive.

The following day, every time I sat down at my desk I was reminded of the previous evening’s event and at the end of the day, when everyone had gone home, James asked me how my bottom was and I instinctively turned away from him, pulled my dress up and bent forward as I lowered my knickers so he could see for himself. I had not pre-meditated this and he certainly looked surprised as he complemented me, saying he was sorry that he had damaged such a beautiful bottom. I was flattered by the complement.

Everything settled down and our relationship continued in the slightly flirtatious and cheeky way, but in reality I was still making mistakes and starting to wonder whether this was the job for me. Increasingly, I was thinking that I would be more suited to the teaching profession and made some initial enquires about returning to University to do a Masters in History.

About two months after my spanking, I made quite a serious and costly mistake, which resulted in another meeting with James. I think we both knew where this could lead and I asked him if we should do the same again to see if it would help. James looked at me and said: “Yes, we will try again but this time I will provide the implement.” I was told to see him at the end of the day.

My brain was all over the place that afternoon. I wondered what type of implement he was considering, and I thought about the process I went through two months earlier when I selected one of my sandals. I thought a gym shoe might have been better but did not own one. Maybe he was thinking of a more appropriate piece of footwear such as a plimsoll, or maybe a belt or perhaps something from the kitchen like a wooden spoon or even a riding crop. I was also conscious that my flared skirt was not ideal and wished that I had time to get home and put a pair of trousers on which I thought would be more appropriate. It even occurred to me that he might make me remove my skirt and spank me over my knickers, a thought that was strangely slightly appealing.

At the end of the day, after the last employees had gone, I went to James’s office and asked when he would deal with me. His reply was that there was no time like the present but that first he had to go to his car. Obviously this was to fetch his chosen implement and a few minutes later he returned with a cane, an implement that I had not considered he was likely to own and all but confirmed my suspicion that he was more than just interested in corporal punishment.

I knew that in previous times the cane was the implement of choice in English schools but I had not previously seen one. His cane was straight and about three foot long and looked very whippy; it also looked painful.

Having put the cane down, James took off his jacket and then in a very matter-of-fact way simply told me that I was going to get six strokes and for the cane to be effective it would have to be given across my bare bottom and as such I would need to remove my skirt and knickers. I had already suspected that my skirt would have to come off, but it was a shock that he wanted my knickers off as well. I thought: ‘Wow! I am going to get the cane across my bare bottom,’ which was clearly a massive step up from getting the sandal across the seat of my trousers. However, I had suggested another spanking and had made no conditions, and simply felt I had no choice. In any case, I knew my carelessness had cost the company money and I deserved to be punished.

Kicking my shoes off, I undid my flared skirt and stepped out of it. I was not wearing tights and knew that my knickers were next. I don’t have a particular problem with nudity, but I did feel a strange combination of embarrassment and naughtiness as I pushed my knickers down my legs and stepped out of them before turning to face him completely naked from my waist downwards. My shirt that day was quite short and I did not make any effort to cover myself, instead giving James the full view of my frontal nudity and wanted him to like the view. I always keep my pubic hair nicely trimmed and was pleased that I had attended to my auburn triangle quite recently.

He told me that I was a very attractive girl, but there was a punishment to be given and told me to bend right across his desk. After taking a couple of steps toward the desk, I reached right over and, putting my hands together, I rested my face on them with my legs now stretched out behind me, straight and at a 45 degree angle. He then had the full view of my bare bottom perfectly presented to him and, although I knew he had seen it once before when I showed him my bruising the day after my first spanking, this time I felt a sense of complete submission. He touched the inside of one of my thighs to indicate he wanted my legs slightly apart and I was happy to oblige. As I lay there, I felt naughty, a little embarrassed and somewhat scared about what was about to happen, but powerfully I really wanted him to enjoy looking at my bottom.

I knew that I was about to experience a more painful beating and I felt him tap my bottom a few times with the cane. What happened next was truly devastating as I felt the cane leave my bottom to be taken back before whacking me for the first time.

For a very brief moment there was nothing before an explosion of incredible pain across my bottom. It was a terrible shock. I had never felt such pain before and I really had no idea that such a simple instrument could cause quite so much pain. My previous spanking had been nothing in comparison.

Nothing had prepared me for this and as I lay across his desk I just tried to absorb the incredible line of fire knowing that I had five more to come. Again, I note from James’s account that he thought the first stroke was “not too hard”, I can assure him that for someone who has never felt the cane across their bare bottom before, that first stroke was indeed ‘hard’.

The truth is that nobody that has experienced a caning will ever forget the shock of the first severe stroke of the cane they receive. James left at least twenty seconds before delivering the second stroke, which was equally painful. Any thoughts about naughtiness had gone as I moved my hands to the sides of his desk to at least be able to hold onto something.

The third stroke came all too quickly and, although painful, I at least had a better idea of what to expect. I think I may have moved my legs further apart which must have given James an ever more explicit view, but I did not care. My bottom was on fire and I was only half way.

James left a longer gap before giving me the fourth stroke, which was if anything even harder. Again, I note from his account of the caning that I only made a yelp after the fourth stroke, which he does admit to being harder. In truth I don’t remember that because I had found the caning very painful from the start. If I did not make a noise as I received the first three, I will take his word for it but they were certainly extremely painful. As to his comment that he was not sure he was making much of an impact, he need not have worried; impact was in fact an under-statement.

I now had two to go and as he caned me for the fifth time I felt for the first time able to cope with the pain. Not that it was anything but sheer pain, but I knew what to expect and knew that I had only one more to come. I have since read that the last stroke is always the hardest and I don’t think James disappointed.

I remember that I had tears in my eyes although I am not sure whether it was because of the pain in my bottom or because of the relief that the caning was over. I stayed in position across his desk for a while, knowing that he would be looking at my bottom presumably now with six distinct stripes.

Eventually I stood up and my hands went to my bottom as I tried to rub both checks and at the same time gave him another full view of my frontal nudity. I think I may have even thanked him for the caning and apologised for making so many costly mistakes.

I then put my clothes back on and left the building. Sitting in my car was a painful experience and I was shocked to see the state of my bottom when I got home with six very distinct stripes. That night I went out for a drink with some friends and wondered what they would have thought if they knew of my secret and the state of my bottom which remained painful every time I sat down. As the wine flowed my bottom started to ‘glow’ and that night in bed I lay on my side I had some strange slightly sexual thoughts about the plain ‘naughtiness’ of being made to take off my clothes below the waist and bend over for a bare bottomed caning. The sheer pain had been something I had not been prepared for and had been truly awful, but as the pain mitigated I thought about what had happened and submitting to James.

In truth I kept the marks for nearly ten days, and every morning as I looked in the mirror I did gain a strange kind of pleasure as I again thought about presenting my bare bottom to him.

I knew before this second punishment that this was not the job for me and had decided to go back to University to do a Masters in history and follow my original chosen career path. In many ways, the caning brought this particular chapter to an end and I felt before I made any more mistakes I should tell James that I was leaving. A short time later, I left the company and said goodbye to James and thanked him for everything, and yes, I did mean everything!

Four years have now passed and I was interested to read James’s account on the website which I think is pretty accurate. He did not appreciate that I gained some perverse pleasure from the latter part of my first spanking or conversely that I found the caning to be extremely painful right from the start. The cane delivers an incredibly intense pain like nothing else. I think we both knew that he had over-stepped the mark to administer punishments that in part satisfied his own sexual leanings. But it also true that the whole thing started when he caught me reading Fifty Shades of Grey and had suggested I watch the film ‘Secretary’.

I suspected then that he had an interest in Corporal Punishment and was secretly intrigued. And it was me that had said the first time: “Why don’t you spank my bottom instead?” And it was me that said the second time: “Do we do the same again, James, and see if that helps?”

James had leapt at both opportunities, but it was me that had driven each occasion. The first spanking was bearable; the second punishment with me being severely caned across my bare bottom had been an extraordinary experience. Being a bit of an exhibitionist, after the surprise of being told to take off my knickers, I enjoyed being half naked in front of him, and certainly enjoyed bending over in such an exposed and rude position. The caning itself was too much, but I have no regrets.

I look back at my time working with James with affection and do admit that I still think about the naughtiness of submitting to him for punishment, particularly bending over with my bare bottom presented to him for a caning.

In my wild moments I even think about being caned again. I still have his number.

Thanks, Rebecca

The End

© Pat Greenham 2015


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