Rosalind yawned, her striking hazel eyes widening and ran her hands through her half-secured wayward strawberry blonde hair. To an outsider she was pretty and filled out her clothes well, but she carried herself with careless confidence and cared little for such things.

She was supposed to be a manager, but she hated it. Just because she knew the job backwards didn’t mean she had to be in charge. Then she spotted yet another mistake and sighed. Without the authority to put the distribution on hold there would have been a cock-up. Oh well she thought, I suppose they do need me.

“But all the same,” she said cheerfully, even though there was no one there to hear, “I’ll run it past Mark.”

She stood up and screwed up her face as she surveyed the haphazard state of the tele-cottage shed. It was bad enough that it stank of creosote but why couldn’t that silly Leanne clear-up or one of the other girls?

It bothered her that she thought only in terms of the female failings. Not that she expected Mark to tidy up. But Tom or Allen were no more senior than the other girls. But it was an academic point, not a serious one. Rosalind knew full well that Leanne was to blame today; for one thing she was only one of them in. But where was she? Perhaps with Mark, Rosalind supposed.

Mark’s and her office was in the other building, although she preferred to work with the others. Mark loved the trappings of authority and although he made not the slightest attempt to lord it over Rosalind or anyone, being in-charge came naturally to him.

Well at least the birds are singing, she thought as she stepped outside. There was a small patch of green between the tele-cottage sheds and the fresh air got her away from the stuffy office, but only for a moment. After all, Mark’s office was only 20 feet away.

“Ow,” squealed a girlish voice.

The retort had been accompanied by sharp thwack. Rosalind smiled. Leanne had obviously screwed up again, but Mark knew how to handle that.

She thought of snooty Claire and her attitude and a conversation she had overheard just the day before.

“He is such a bastard,” she had whined, “He can’t do that to us. It’s not right.”

Janine had been nursing a sore bottom at the time and rubbed it copiously. “He doesn’t spank you does he?” she said ruefully. In fact that morning she had been caned. Twelve of the best and she could still very much feel them.

“As if,” Claire spluttered.

“So don’t stick your nose in,” Janine said archly.

“I was only saying,” Claire said defensively.

“Well don’t, it is embarrassing enough innit, Leanne and I have an arrangement don’t we?” Janine muttered.

Leanne had rolled her eyes and blushed.

Rosalind loved the eccentricity of it. Where else could you find office girls getting a spanking when they needed it? And good on Mark for having the balls to do it; if Claire didn’t want in then that was her business. Rosalind knew what she would have preferred in their place. If Claire wanted a reduced bonus then so be it.

Another crack broke brought her back to the present and Rosalind put her hand on the door.

“Ooh, that hurt,” Leanne said in pained voice from inside.

Rosalind went in.

Leanne was bending over the dress with her short red woollen dress pushed up on to her back. Her knickers were calve-bound so that her completely bared bottom stuck up invitingly.

There were more than half a dozen dark pink lines crossing the small white bottom and as Rosalind entered a sour-faced Leanne looked back over her shoulder with red shot eyes that were rimed with tears.

Mark paused, his stance akimbo with his stocky frame poised like a boxer. The pale wood stick contrasted with his black turtle neck so that it looked as if he had a line across his chest.

“Give her six from me,” Rosalind chuckled, “That office is a tip.”

Leanne gaped, “That’s not my fault,” she whined.

“Of course it is,” Mark growled and lay another slash across her bum. “But you still have the rest of your 12 to come.”

“Ahhh, that blooming hurt,” Leanne bleated.

“Twelve, plus six, is that enough I wonder?” Rosalind said mischievously.

“Mind your own… Ooh,” Leanne began, yelping as another stroke swiped her.

“Now, now, Rosalind is your boss too,” Mark laughed.

Leanne pulled a face, but her face softened and she piped up, “Sorry Sir, sorry Ros, I guess I know I deserve it.”

“That’s the ticket,” Mark said brightly and caned her again.

“Oh,” Leanne retorted angrily and stamped her foot.

“When you’re done with her, I need to talk about putting a short hold on distribution,” Rosalind said in a more serious tone.

“What?” Mark said impatiently, “Someone didn’t screw up again?” He shot and angry suspicious glance at Leanne.

She bit down on her lip hard and was suddenly very nervous.

Rosalind was about to agree that she rather thought that it was Leanne when she paused. She pulled a face and adopted a nervous pose.

“I eh… I think it might have been… eh… well that is… I think it was me,” she lied.

The startled look on Leanne’s face was a picture and her mouth and eyebrows danced a tango of confusion.

Mark straightened up and narrowed his eyes.

“Is that so?” he asked archly, “You wouldn’t be telling me porkies would you?”

Rosalind feigned outrage and spluttered, “Why would I do that?” But her blush told another tale.

“Let me just finish up here,” Mark said thoughtfully as he returned to address Leanne’ bottom with the cane.

*

Leanne had left in a flood of tears and vigorously rubbing her bottom. It was doubtful that she would be sitting at her desk for a while. Now that she had gone Rosalind coyly rocked back and forth on the spot with an odd grin on her face.

Mark frowned. “What are you up to?” he said.

Rosalind shrugged and pursed her lips. Her eyes strayed to the cane still lying on Mark’s desk.

“I’m just curious,” she said with a coy smile.

“I don’t think you want to go there,” Mark said as he followed her gaze, “It is not a game with me and I play for real.”

Rosalind weighed this up with a pout, her eyes focussing somewhere on the middle distance and then she seemed to decide something.

“I’m a big girl,” she said, “and I told you I screwed up. So what are you going to do about it?”

Mark sighed and slowly shook his head.

“Alright kitten,” he said, “It’s your arse, six of the best then, but if you cry off I am going to put you across my knee and you won’t ever trouble me again.”

Rosalind nodded, but her face was rose pink and hot to the ears.

“Knickers down and bend over,” Mark said taking up the cane.

By the time he had turned back Rosalind was already bending over and was busy sliding her dark blue trousers past her knees. She paused for a moment and looked up at him and them with an embarrassed smile she shoved her knickers down too.

Mark sucked in a breath and whistled at the magnificent bottom that met his gaze. Then he licked away a smile that had formed on his lips and found his stern character.

Rosalind squealed at the first stroke then took the next few moments breathing in and out sharply. But she didn’t move and Mark decided it was safe to cane her again.

But for a sharp intake of breath, this time Rosalind made no sound and merely let her bare bottom stick out defiantly as if daring him to do his worst. He did.

At four Rosalind let out a pained “ooh,” and began to make small running motions on the spot.

“Stings doesn’t it?” Mark chuckled.

“Huh-hmm,” she agreed with a wince, her eyes fixed on a spot on the carpet.

The fifth stroke was lulu and she jerked.

“That’s enough,” she said suddenly straightening up.

Mark gaped at her. “You were doing just fine…” and then he smiled smugly and shrugged. “I told you didn’t I?”

“I know,” Rosalind sighed, she bit her lip and gave him a little girl look.

Mark expected her to leave and let a superior expression play out on his face.

“Does a spanking hurt?” she asked innocently.

He made to answer but his mouth froze in surprise as the implication sunk.

“You did say that you would… I mean if I… you’re not a wimp are you?” Rosalind smirked.

Mark’s eyes narrowed and with sudden menace he advanced on his colleague with a purpose.

In the next 10 minutes Rosalind found out what a spanking could be as Mark held firmly across his lap and paddled her with a will.

“I don’t think you’ll be back,” he snarled.

“Not if this is the best you can do,” Rosalind countered, but by then it was pure bravado, her bottom was quite red and sore and tears had begun to prick her eyes.

“Say sorry Sir,” Mark rumbled.

“Up yours wimp,” Rosalind snapped back, but her face was tight and her teeth were sharp on her lower lip.

“Have it your own way,” Mark growled spanking her harder.

I will, Rosalind thought, but she knew it was going to be a very long day.