The Birthday Surprise


! ind 2  indigo-signature-banner“You did what?” His voice froze her with its tone.

“I just thought you’d find it …” There did not seem to be a good end to the sentence. Marie ran a manicured hand down her new dress and thought what a terrible waste. It should have been such fun.

“She’s not an ‘it.’” He looked at his girlfriend with hard eyes, for once genuinely angry at what she had done.

She scowled. “I never thought she was. I like her. I thought you’d like her too. I wanted you to be proud of me.”

“Okay.” He sat on the sofa, leaned back and closed his eyes, then breathed in and out, just once but deeply, before he instructed her, “Tell me what you’ve done.”

She sat on the floor at his feet, curled her hands around his right leg and leant her cheek on his knee. He could not see her face as she talked but that suited her.

“It’s Ali, you know Ali. You know that she’s in a different department to me, accounting.” She tried to pre-empt his question. “You know I have liked her for ages, we talked about that.” Her cheeks coloured with a blush as she remembered what she had whispered in his ear. “Ali and I, well, we’ve talked before but since my promotion things have … developed.”

She paused and pushed her head back a little, waiting for a comforting gesture, feeling the gentle weight of his hand on her head, but none came and she continued.

“Well, you know how I have to manage departments, and hers is one of them. I am her boss’s boss. Her boss, Mike, is a sweet guy, and terrified of me.”

She turned and looked at him for the first time, her neat eyebrows raised in a question.

“No,” he assured her. “I have never been scared of you. It’s never going to happen.

Now get on with it. We don’t have a lot of time and I am going to give you a real hiding before she arrives.”

“But you can’t! Not tonight! I am supposed to … I am …”

His eyes bore down on her. She turned away and nestled again, holding onto him tightly, continuing in a smaller and less confident voice.

She knew if she argued at all it would be worse for her later. Even now she could feel her façade failing.! ind 3

It had started properly about two months before. Mike had come to see her in her new role as his superior. As he often did when he spoke to Marie, he stood slightly farther away from her desk than would be considered normal and ran a shaking hand through his short hair as he spoke.

“Do you mind if I speak to you about Ali? The thing is, she keeps coming in late, and when I speak to her about it she just laughs and says that’s why I get paid more than her.”

He paused and looked wistfully at the door.

Marie tipped her head to one side, causing waves of chestnut hair to curl on one shoulder and rest on her navy suit jacket. Her brow furrowed.

“Seriously? That’s what she says? And you just took that?”

“Er … yes. She thinks it’s my job to cover for her.  I have spoken to her, but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind, because I know you are looking over … after my department now.” Mike shifted a little on his feet. It had not occurred to either of them that he could have sat down.

Marie sighed but cut it short. “Sure, I will sort it out.” She looked back at her work, and refrained from saying “Don’t let the door hit you …” though it could not have been more obvious.

Within twenty minutes Ali was sitting across from Marie. All Marie had asked was “How are you?” and now she was listening to a rather high-pitched account of her recent run ins with Mike and how unfair he was. Ali had had her hair cut, a new bob, almost a pixie cut, which suited her large brown eyes and made her monologue seem almost cute to Marie, but not quite.

“We need to talk about being late,” Marie interrupted. “About you being late, that is. You can’t be. You also can’t tell Mike that it’s his job to hold the fort for you when you are. It’s his job to bollock you if you’re late. God knows if you were in my department I would. And now, of course, effectively you are in my department so don’t treat me as though I will let you away with anything because I certainly won’t. I would make mincemeat of you if you spoke to me like you speak to him.”

And that’s when it happened. Ali opened her large brown eyes and looked up at Marie with surprise. Her olive skin took on a dusky pink hue and her lips formed a perfect round O of surprise.

Marie, who had told off plenty of adults, had never seen one react quite like this. She watched in silence as Ali transformed before her. She dipped her pretty little head as though Marie had pushed it down, her skin flushed a deep pink, and her lips moved as though to form an objection that never quite appeared.

Ali’s lowly posture reminded Marie of an ex-girlfriend, a very lovely girl with whom Marie had spent six months during her twenties. She remembered how she herself had responded when rebuked, the same shyness, the same almost virginal reaction. She thought also of her present lover, Ben, and how amused he would be by all this. And she saw a temptation, a possibility, and a delightful opportunity. All of these visions, ideas and possibilities came together as she watched Ali look down at her hands, which held one another on her lap.

Without missing a beat she said, “And do you know what I would do if you were in my department? I would make it so you never even thought of being late again. My people just don’t do this. You know that don’t you?”

Ali’s shy smile faltered and she nodded a little, her head still dipped.

“Ali?” The girl looked up. “Has anyone ever told you off before? As an adult, I mean?”

Ali shook her head.

“That explains a lot.  You know that I am going to be overseeing your department from now on, and if you are late again I will be the one dealing with you, so a telling off will be the least you have to worry about. I have half a mind to make you stand in the corner and think about that.”

They both laughed a quiet, insincere laugh. Ali’s face was now bright pink and her eyes remained focused on the floor.

Marie dismissed her, watching the slightly awkward way Ali carried the cute dress that showed off her legs to perfection.

Then Marie then sat musing. She knew the look Ali had given her. She knew it because it was just the sort of look she gave Ben about twenty times a day. It was the early submission look. It was not giving in; it certainly was not the total bottom up surrender that she always wallowed in eventually, but the surrender was there in its infancy. It was an early indicator of later success, and Ali had given it to Marie.! ind 4

Later that day she lay in bed with Ben. Her bottom was swollen and sore, and she lay carefully on her side while she pushed herself deeper into his arms.

“How come,” she asked his chest, “at work I get to be in charge of everyone and people are nervous about me, but here I get spanked for every little thing I do wrong?”

Ben opened one lazy eye and continued drawing a circle on her shoulder. “What exactly are you asking?”

“Why am I in charge there and not ever in charge here?”

He opened both eyes now and reached down to squeeze her bottom. “Do you want to be? You can’t, but do you want that?

“No.” Her voice squeaked. “I just want to know what it’s like. I just want to know how you feel sometimes. I want not always to be the one who gets spanked. I am important.” Her voice sounded thin in her own ears, and she was starting to kick a little under the covers.

Ben took her face in his hands and made her look at him. It was a forceful move and her heart thudded heavily as she met his eyes.

“Marie, you are important. And at work you can be as bossy as you like, but at home that’s never going to happen. You don’t even want it, do you?”

Her lips opened a little but no words were waiting there. She arched her back and tried to move her face towards his.

He looked at her for a moment more before he leant down and kissed her. When he let her go she pushed her whole body into his. He smiled, put her under him, and entered her with a force that made them both gasp.

At work over the next few weeks, Marie took a special interest in Ali. It made perfect sense to give her new charge a little more attention. Ali had a reputation for having a lot of promise and a terrible attitude in equal measure, and Marie compiled a list of complaints and concerns about her. Her tantrums were legendary; Mike and a few others were terrified of her outbursts, and she was known to fly off the handle at the slightest hint of an insult.

After one particularly difficult exchange that left Mike shaking in the hallway, Marie stormed into Ali’s office and demanded to know what had happened, but when Ali started to explain she interrupted.

“No, Ali, just no. I asked but I am just not interested. This stops and it stops now. If we weren’t at work I’d recommend you get the spanking of your life. Your behaviour would be unacceptable in a six year old. Go and see Mike, and sort it out with him, because if I have to you won’t like it at all.”

And she left. It was only when she reached her office that Marie realised what she had said. She started to go back and apologise but then stopped and sat at her desk instead, waiting for alarm bells to sound, for the police to run in, or whatever happens when someone says something totally unacceptable. Nothing happened. Shaking her head gently she returned to her work.

On the other side of the building Ali still sat where she had been when Marie burst in. Many minutes passed, and then in a tiny whisper she told the space where Marie had been, “I wish we weren’t at work.”

Time passed. Ali started to spend an inordinate amount of time wandering the corridors near Marie’s office. She tried very hard to remember exactly what it was that Marie had threatened her with, wishing she could have recorded the words to replay at night when she was alone. Every memory became precious – the furious way Marie had opened her door, the way Marie’s eyes had honed in on her, the words she used, but mostly the terrifying, hope giving threat.  She oscillated between being the perfect minion and the most awful harridan because she wanted Marie to be proud of her and furious with her in turn.

Eventually, she persuaded herself that it was all a myth, that Marie had said nothing of the kind to her, because no one had ever spoken to her like that. No ever would, no would ever dare. The thought made her furious, and that was how it happened.

A short while after this horrible realization, Ali burst into Marie’s office with neither warning nor a knock, and plopped down in the chair facing Marie’s desk.

“I have to talk to you,” she said.

“Evidently so.” Marie responded took a moment to survey Ali. Her hair was messy, as if she had run her hands through it. Her shoulders were up, and her large eyes were filled with unshed tears.

“Mike is a prick. Do you know what he did? The bloody idiot …”

Marie raised a hand. “Stop talking.” She spoke as if Ali were a young child, her voice heavy and even. “I want you to think through what you want to say to me before you say another word. I am not going to sit here and listen to a tantrum. If you really want to risk it then go ahead, but you won’t like the consequences.”

Ali glared, to no effect since Marie already turned away to continue her work. So she kicked the floor a couple of times, the edge of her shoe catching on the chair leg. She looked at the door, opened her mouth three times, then sat on her hands. Her breathing steadied.

Minutes passed.

“Yesterday,” she started, and Marie turned and to look. “Mike came to see me and told me that he had given the Stirwick report to Charles. I really wanted that project and I’ve been here for ages more than Charles. I have more experience than him, and I am better at my job than him. It’s just jobs for the bloody boys, isn’t it?”

“Did you do anything about this feeling you have?” Marie asked quietly.

“Yes, I bloody well did. I went to Mike, and Charles was there of course, because they are bosom buddies now, and told him what a jerk he was, Mike that is. And I told Charles that he can sod off too.”

Marie put her head on one side as Ali spoke. She took in every word of Ali’s tirade, and for the first time in her six years of knowing him, she pitied Mike.

“Ali, you need to stop talking now. Mike asked me about the Stirwick project and I suggested Charles should do it. I could explain the reasoning to you, but quite frankly, I don’t want to. Your behaviour today has been unprofessional and histrionic. Leave my office now, and we will talk about this when I have had a chance to think about how best to deal with it. But I think we both know what you deserve, don’t we?”

She turned away from Ali in cold dismissal.

After thirty long seconds, Ali left. She walked to the loo, locked herself in a cubical and cried. “Stupid, stupid cow,” she hissed, and tried with all her self-deception skills to pretend she was talking about Marie.

That night was the monthly session where the girls from several departments would meet and have a few drinks. It often ended up being quite a raucous affair for those girls that wanted it to be.

Ali was there and on fine form. She cracked jokes, and responded with shrieks of delight when Marie joined the party, which Marie did her best to ignore.  Wine flowed, a couple of cocktails were quaffed, the conversation got louder, and everyone forgot about work. It may have been the drink, or the atmosphere, or even a desire to push Marie’s buttons, but a couple of times when Ali sat down she shoved the table and almost sent glasses and bottles flying.

Each time she did it the girls all flew to save their drinks and their outfits, and annoyance with her grew rapidly.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mel snapped, “Just watch what you’re doing.”

“I can’t, I have a table leg, look!” Ali pointed and gently rattled the table. “You can’t do anything else with a little skirt and a table leg. You can all bugger off.” She laughed and toasted them by draining half a glass of red wine.

Marie waited until the next violent shake, and said in as stern a voice as she could manage, ”Ali, I swear if you do that again I shall spank you.”

The whole table broke up into giggles, except for Ali. She blushed furiously but her half laugh provided enough cover for the group not to notice. Marie, thrilled by the effect her words had and keen to take further ground, desperately tried to decide what Ben would say next.

She followed her remark with what she hoped was a meaningful glance and a single, bright red nail pointed at Ali’s nose. “Next time. I mean it.” With a smile that could have meant anything, she then turned from Ali and asked the girl to her left just what it is about Radley bags that make them so addictive.

‘Why on earth did I need to think of Ben?’ Marie inwardly grumbled. ‘I can do this myself. If I were at work, I would not even think of asking him anything. I have to get a grip. I need my desk and my work head.’

Neither girl dared look at the other for several minutes. Marie felt uncertain that she could carry off her new game, and did not dare to check her progress. Ali was blushing, trying not to knock the table, and fighting such conflicted feelings that she felt on the edge of panic, which she covered with a smile so wide she thought her face would crack.

Marie was somewhat surprised when Ali accepted her offer of a lift home, but it gave Marie a clear indication that she could carry on with her plan. Whilst driving, Marie swore quietly to herself and wished she could ring Ben to find out what to do.

It is all very well knowing what the man should do to make you feel terribly submissive, she thought, but how scary it is to do it. What if she turns around and tells me to go away?

When she was at work it was so easy to be in charge. She knew how to reduce anyone to a little piece of himself, and then build him back up to be confident and capable. But once in a home environment, she felt like a little girl playing with toys.

She listened to the pitterpat of chatter that Ali released as they wove down dark lanes, and knew that Ali was feeling the quirk of submission. Marie recognised the signs of a girl who did not dare let there be silence for fear what might happen in it. It was just how she was with Ben in their early months together. Orange light rose and fell on Ali’s face as they drove out of town, and Marie enjoyed the way Ali’s lipstick looked almost black in the light.

She knew the way and drove the tiny one-track lane to Ali’s house without instructions. Marie parked and waited only a moment before she turned off the engine, and a moment of silence found its way into the car.

“I want you to come in,” Ali blurted.

Marie smiled, and hoped her heart did not sound as loud to Ali as it did to her.

“Well, I shall then,” she said, feeling, for reasons she did not quite understand, like the fox in a fairy story.

Marie leaned back on the sofa and crossed her legs, and was glad she had worn stockings. Ben preferred them, of course, but since she was on her own it had entered her mind not to bother. Ali sat by her feet and had gathered up the courage to gently stroke her ankle, fingertips rolling up and down her ankle, a timid touch, a preamble.

“I’m sorry about today.”

Marie shifted a little in her seat. “Ali, I like you so much, but you were awful. You really were. I don’t understand why you lose control like that. It’s as if you have everything going for you, but you just decide to throw it away.”

Ali sat still, her finger resting on the buckle of Marie’s high heeled shoe.

“All I wanted to do today was spank you, Ali, and that’s why I sent you away. I wanted to spank you and then I wanted to kiss you, both of which are not really things I should do at work.” She smiled weakly, her heart pounding.

“I wish you would.”

She swallowed dryness and surged on. “The thing is, I am in love, and you know Ben. He is quite,” her eyes searched the ceiling for a word, “assertive, and there is nothing I don’t share with him, nothing at all.” She let the moment rest. Somewhere the house creaked, as though approving her confession.

Ali nodded slowly, looking only at the shoe before her. “I like Ben. I like him a lot. He spoke with me at the Christmas party, and lots of us have crushes on him. I do, I guess. He’s a bit scary though. Except I think I like that.” The final part was a whisper too quiet to be heard unless by ears that wished to hear it. “But you,” she continued, “You can be scary too. When you are like you are at work I feel better about myself. I feel safe. Well, not today. I felt crappy about today, and I still do.”

She looked up at Marie.

Marie leaned down and they kissed. ‘Her lips are so soft,’ Marie thought, ‘her whole self is open to me, and she is waiting for me to act. I want to be the girl who acts. I can be that girl with her.’

Ali wore a softer expression now than Marie was used to seeing. She looked expectant, hopeful, shy. She looked, Marie realised, like a girl who hoped to be taken somewhere and did not quite know where.

Everything was as new for Marie as it was for Ali. She was so used to Ben’s hard body, the trim, businesslike shape of a male, his hands that held her, and his lips that were unrelenting and demanding. But Ali’s lips parted and welcomed her while they kissed.  They responded to her desire, trembled, and followed Marie’s every lead. The girls stood, and Marie felt Ali yield, felt the way Ali waited for her, arms hanging at her sides. Marie reached up and tilted Ali’s head, surprised and empowered by her ability to manoeuvre another human being. She stepped forward and pushed Ali back against the wall, her kisses becoming more urgent and demanding.

Ali made a little noise almost of distress, but Marie knew it was not. It was the sound of wanting that is not quite ready, the sound of desire that wants to be forced to wait, to hold on to itself. Marie had made that sound a thousand times, and she knew this was the time to explore where she could take this pretty, hopeful girl and her desire that was not yet desire.

It was intoxicating. Marie had been given the keys to the castle while the lord was away. For once, it was all about what she wanted, and what she decided. Ali’s breasts rose and fell sharply, and Marie knew how strong her need had grown. She slipped a hand into Ali’s dress and reached for a hard nipple, and with one thumb she encircled the tip, kissing Ali gently until she could feel Ali almost break with wanting.

But still Ali needed to feel the desire more than the release.

Marie knew what she herself wanted, and she knew she could have it. For once, everything would be just as she determined.  She did not have to guess or hope, she could instruct and create. She looked into Ali’s expectant eyes, and saw them sadden as she pulled away.

Marie walked to the centre of the room, her heels announcing themselves on the wooden floor.

“Come here,” she commanded.

To her amazement, Ali did. She walked carefully, taking each step as if a thousand men looked on. But it was only Marie in front of the girl, waiting in barely hidden amazement to receive her.

Ali stood just where Marie had chosen. Her shoulders were square but her eyes were down, and a gentle blush spread across her cheeks, like a doll, or a design in a computer model. Marie knew what she wanted.

“Turn around.” Marie watched the confusion in Ali’s eyes as she obeyed. Her feet shuffled as she turned; she was clearly unsure and so wanted to show unwillingness, and both girls were taken aback by her compliance.

Marie smiled at the girl’s back, and reached up and unzipped Ali’s dress. Goose bumps formed on Ali’s shoulders. She was glorious in black satin and stockings, and Marie stared, ran her fingers down Ali’s back, watching carefully as Ali shivered at her touch. The sight of the girl’s underwear brought a powerful throbbing of desire through Marie. Ali had wanted this all along. She dressed for the evening with the desire to be unwrapped.

‘I can do anything,’ Marie thought, ‘and this is how it feels.’ She almost laughed with delight.

“I want you to learn to do as I say,” she whispered, her red lips almost touching Ali’s tiny ear. “I want you to learn how to mind me, before we move on to other things. I think you would love to spend time with Ben, wouldn’t you? Aren’t you curious about what it’s like with him? About how it feels with him?”

Ali used every ounce of her concentration to keep herself upright, to maintain an illusion of control.

Without saying a word Marie abandoned Ali, sat on the sofa, and watched the young woman. Could it be that Ali would stay there until she told her to move? Was that possible? What would she do if Ali moved?  She suddenly wished Ben were there, just for a moment, until she saw Ali’s hand reach around to cover her bottom. She felt self-conscious, and Marie knew the feeling well. She also knew what Ben would say

“Stay still.” Her voice sounded authoritative to both of them. Ali stopped. Marie could have clapped but knew that would spoil the picture.

Marie’s heart beat so hard that she could see her dress bounce against her chest. Could she do this? Did she have the nerve? She wanted to. She wanted to know how it felt.

“Ali, come and stand by me. Just here, to my right.” She pointed. Ali’s face was the image of regret and anticipation, presented to Marie as Ali fought to obey. With tiny geisha steps Ali crossed the room. It was only a short distance, but submission always feels farther than it is.

“Over my lap please.” Oh bugger. Should she have said “please”? She tried to remember if Ben ever said please. She pondered this as Ali slowly leant forward over her lap. Willing her hands to stop shaking, Marie stroked Ali’s knickers as they stretched over round curves.  The dark, smooth material stretched under her hand as the moved it down the centre of Ali’s bum. It was a subtle move but Marie knew just what Ali felt. She knew how much Ali wanted her to act; she was walking the bridge between fear and anticipation. They both were. Very slowly, with care not to let Ali feel her shake, Marie  lowered Ali’s knickers. Her bum was beautiful. Marie cupped her hand over it. It was round, pert, and perfect. It was so pale that all Marie wanted in the world was to bring colour to it.

“I know how you feel about today, and this is for that feeling, for both of us, because we both know you earned it.”

She raised her hand and brought it down sharply. Ali made a little cry, but it was only surprise, and Marie wanted to hear more than that. Cupping her hand she set to work, and for several minutes she peppered Ali’s little bum with spanks. It turned light pink, and Ali moved a little, a tiny squirm, but it was not enough. Marie knew what she felt. It was embarrassment, but more than that it was impatience. Marie tried harder and used more force; she spanked as hard as she could, up and over the waiting globes. She wanted more. She wanted to do more. She wanted to hear a peal of distress. She listened. She heard a little sound but she recognised it for encouragement. She did not want encouragement, she wanted Ali to wonder why she had asked for such a thing, she wanted Ali to mind her, to feel an edge of regret for what she had got into.

Marie stopped and thought. ‘What would hurt? What will make her put her hands back and try to make me stop?’

She reached down into her bag and found a small paddle hairbrush. She knew this hurt, because she had felt its impact countless times.

Ali called out at the first slap, but Marie ignored her and went for all she was worth. From the top of Ali’s thighs she worked up and down the bottom. The colours that blossomed fascinated her as, over and over, she covered the bottom in quick, hard pops. She felt the most powerful thrill, and it was all her choice. She did not ever wanted to stop, but did all that she wanted to; she remembered the sit spot; she remembered how much it hurt when the same spot was focused on; she remembered how it felt not to be able to predict pace or position. Everything she had learned on the receiving end, she used in that spanking.

And then she heard it. She heard Ali struggling, really struggling to accept what was being done to her. Marie did not stop. She wanted more, and she took everything she wanted.

‘I am not the girl I normally am,’ she thought. ‘I am the girl in charge now. I can do anything.’

At last, exhausted, she quit. Her breath came quick, and she felt invigorated. She looked at the bottom before her, a little horrified at its condition.

But then she remembered. She was in charge now. She could do what she liked. There was no need to be horrified; it was not her bottom.

“Stand in the corner. No rubbing.”

And she watched, enthralled, as Ali stiffly and slowly stood, and hobbled to the corner by the window.

Marie shook her head in disbelief, then sat half an hour and watched and wondered at what she had done.

Then she stood and walked over to the girl in the corner, the girl who was not her, and whispered into her ear.

“In one week’s time you will come to our house. It is my Ben’s birthday. You will come dressed as you were tonight, and you will do what you are told when you arrive. Do you understand?”

Her voice was gentle, like honey in warm summer woods. Ali nodded.

“Good girl.”

Marie kissed her shoulder gently, took her bag, and left.

When she had gone Ali walked stiffly to her room. She stood for several minutes staring in the mirror at her bruised and swollen bottom. She stroked it with her head to one side, a gentle hand where before there had been only pain.

‘Is this how it is?’ she wondered. ‘Is this how it is to be punished?’ She sighed. ‘I thought there would be more.’ But more of what she could not, or would not, think.

Marie finished telling her side of the story to Ben, not once daring to turn around and look at him, like a successful Orpheus.

“I am beginning to understand now,” said Ben, bringing Marie back to the present. “It would have been a good idea to talk to me about this in advance, don’t you think?”

“I know,” she said to the rug, “that this is a bit unusual. but you’ve been in charge of me for years, and I have been spanked so often and in so many ways that I wanted to know how it felt. I wanted to show you. I wanted,” she struggled with the final bit of truth, “I wanted to kiss her, like you kiss me. I wanted to share that with you.”

She paused, and the silence rang in her ears.

“Did I screw up?” she asked at last.

The room was heavy with waiting. All the power she had felt while she recounted the story dissipated and flew like a butterfly to Ben’s finger while she waited for his verdict.

“I can’t believe that you did all of this without asking me, and more importantly, without really thinking through the effect it would have on Ali.”

His displeasure made her sit up and search for a way to make it better.

“But I did, we talked about it, I just didn’t tell you everything because I didn’t want you to know about the surprise. It’s supposed to be a happy thing. Ali has always liked you, ever since she met you at the Christmas party three years ago. She thinks you’re gorgeous, and she told me. I do too. Two women who think you’re gorgeous, what’s not to love about that?”

Marie finished with a smile, and Ben tapped the edge of the chair with his fingers.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay? Really? So it’s all good?”

“Oh.” He looked down at the brown hair girl, still under his hand, “No, not yet. I wasn’t really talking to you. Get your hairbrush and come back here.”

She started to speak.


Flustered at his curt interruption, she dashed off to do as instructed. Her skirt flew up as she ran, and he smiled a little at the flash of stockings and black silk knickers.

Marie returned with hairbrush and excuses in hand. “Ben, I spent ages getting ready. I tried really hard to do whatever I … oh.”

He sat just pointing at his lap. They watched each other for a moment and Marie lost. She folded herself over his thighs without a word, and lifted up her bum so he could pull her knickers down.

“Jesus!” she called out as he unleashed the hairbrush with force over her pale cheeks, “Ben!” She tried desperately to get away but his arm clamped her tightly. “You haven’t warmed me up and it really hurts!”

He responded with a totally unfazed and unaltered assault on her bum. She tried to crawl away using the edge of the sofa for purchase but he held her still with his non-spanking arm and went to work with tenacity over all her bottom and thighs.

She heard it stop before she felt it. Her bottom burned and Marie groaned with relief, then realised Ben was speaking to her and resolved to listen to him dutifully.

“Right, listen very carefully to this, Marie. You don’t know what you are doing, do you? I know you. You feel all of this, you don’t think it. You have taken this girl somewhere. Why? What did you want? What did you think about her and how she felt? And did you think about who is in charge of all this? Did you?” He punctuated each syllable of the last two questions with a hard swat of the brush that made her cry out each time.

The doorbell rang. He paused, the brush in mid-air, and she waited, eyes squeezed tight shut for a number of reasons, none of them that she dared consider.

“Get up.”

She scrambled to readjust her clothes, trying to look dignified and normal for their guest.

He looked at her with stern bemusement. “What are you doing?” He did not wait for an answer. “Get into the corner, knickers down, skirt up, and don’t even think about moving before I tell you to.”

The confidence the man had in his authority was such that he did not wait to see her carry out his orders, but went straight to the front door and then ushered Ali to the kitchen.

After only a few minutes Marie started to feel a little less fear, and leaned backwards to try and hear what was being said. It was unkind and inconsiderate of him to put her into the corner when Ali arrived. He showed no respect at all for her position.

She could hear only muffled voices from the kitchen, and felt ignored and bypassed. Why couldn’t they discuss it with her? Why didn’t her feelings count? She was the one who had orchestrated this, after all.

‘It will be so confusing and bewildering for Ali,’ Marie thought, ‘and it would be fairer for everyone if I put myself to rights and joined them, like a normal person.’

Then she heard footsteps approaching and recognised Ben’s steady tread, and almost slammed her nose into the wall in her haste to get back into position.

Ben stood right behind her, his fingers carelessly stroking her exposed and still sore bum as he spoke. His voice sounded deep and certain in her ear, and in another situation it would have turned her on, listening to him speak so deeply and so close to her, but right then she was too frantic about Ali being there for that to happen.

“I have had a conversation with Ali. She and I have spoken about how she feels and what she wants. I also know what I want. Pull your knickers up and come out of the corner. Sit on this.”  He plonked a chair in the middle of the floor. “Right. Spank her. Let’s see how you do.”

Marie had pulled her knickers up before he finished that fragment of his sentence but she stood still, looking from the chair to him and then to Ali. Her stomach fell and she did not know why. This is what she wanted all along, but in front of him it felt stupid all of a sudden, as if she were a child playing at a silly game.

“If you need me to show you how it’s done, I can spank you before you spank her,” he offered, noting the forlorn and hopeless look in her face.

Something in Marie snapped to attention and she turned to face a rather less compliant Ali than she had seen the other night. She searched for her work voice and hoped she had located it as she declared to Ali, “Right then young lady, let’s finish what we started last week.”

Ali stood and stared, her chin jutted out in a way that Marie had not seen before, and her stance somewhat relaxed, but also somewhat ‘come and get me if you think you are hard enough.’ Marie paused for just a second, ignoring Ben as best she could, then took Ali’s wrist and sat on the chair as she yanked the girl over her lap. It was an undignified landing and Ali grunted softly as her stomach hit Marie’s thighs, but in a moment they were sorted out, Ali’s skirt was up, and her knickers at half-mast.

Marie felt more confidence then, which was impressive considering the pain in her bum and how having a woman, even a petite one, over her lap made that swollen bum feel even less comfortable. She tried to think of something Toppy to say, but Ben would know she was nicking all his lines so she resorted to action.

Slapping sounds soon filled the room, but that was all. Marie did her best to light a fire in Ali’s bottom, and she knew she was getting some good ones in but it simply was not having an impact. Ali glared at the floor and although Marie could not see her eyes, she knew how little effect she was having. She redoubled her efforts and tried with all she was worth to draw even a small squeal from Ali, but there was nothing. A sinking feeling grew in her stomach until suddenly she was reminded why Ali had been at trouble at work in the first place.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” the girl declared, “My grandmother can spank harder than that and she’s been dead five years.”

Marie heard Ben’s snort, which was rich considering that if she had said that over his lap, she would have to write a letter of condolence to her own bottom. She looked down at the light pink globes and realised she was sunk. She did not have anywhere to take it.

“God,” she moaned, “You can be such a little bitch at times.”

She spanked harder as she lost her temper. She had tried so hard, planned so well, and it had felt so good the other night, that it was beyond thoughtless of the other two not to help her. The frustration and confusion she felt poured out of her hands and onto Ali’s darkening bottom.

Ali felt the loss of control, felt the change of tempo and dynamic, and twisted herself off Marie’s lap, landing in a heap on the floor.

“A bitch? Seriously? Me? Have you even considered what you’re like?” She stood and glared, and Marie stood to meet her eye to eye.

Neither had seen the other like this. Marie’s poise and confidence from work had flown from her, and Ali’s compliance and eagerness to please had gone the same way. With their roles gone it felt less like a journey into submission and more like a battle of wills.

Ben recognised the signs in Marie that he knew preceded a vitriolic blow up, and decided enough was enough.

“My turn, I think.” His deep, calm voice made both women turn, and he took Ali’s hand and pulled her firmly down over his knee as he sat in the chair Marie vacated. “You.” He barely glanced at Marie. “Corner.”

Marie, so fired up she could barely speak, uttered an indiscriminate sound of anger and searched for words to refuse him, but then she saw for the first time how Ben looked when he spanked a girl. She watched his strong forearm pump up and down in a measured and methodical manner. She watched the way his head bent over his task, and how futile and tiny Ali’s protests sounded.

She stripped down her knickers and put her nose to the corner and wondered, “Why couldn’t I get her to make a noise like that?”

But inside she knew the answer, she knew it as surely as she knew what she was, with her nose poking into the familiar corner of the room and her bottom still sore behind her.

She listened as the sounds from Ali grew urgent and distressed, almost angry, and how they journeyed to fearful, to weepy, and then to just little noises of pain.

She had not realised how vocal it was, how much a girl gives away when she is spanked.

It was a novel all of its own, she thought. This is the sound of submission. She knew she was not destined to create that sound in another.

It was as though Ben had heard her because at that moment he took the totally pliant and repentant Ali to the dining table and bent her gently over it. She started to panic and he put a warm hand on the small of her back while he instructed Marie to come and put herself next to Ali.

She obeyed, bending over the table one space to Ali’s right.

Ben left the room and the girls did not look at each other, but Marie whispered, “Are you okay?” to Ali, who replied very softly, “Yes.”

Neither girl dared look back when Ben returned but when they heard the swishing sound they knew what he brought with him.

“Ali.” She jumped when he said her name and clenched her bum. “I think it only fair that Marie get the first set of these, don’t you agree?”

He did not wait for a response and Marie made a little “o” of horror with her mouth before the first burning stripe bit. She did her best to be brave and not show Ali how much it hurt, but by number four she was begging him to stop. At six he did.

“Your turn, Ali,” he declared.

Ali had no idea what to expect, but Marie’s sobs told her that she should be afraid. He gave her three.  At each stripe Ali shrieked and pushed her neat, tanned frame harder into the table, as if to slide through the wood and escape.

Ben went on, six more for Marie and three more for Ali, while the girls marked under his tutelage, while they altered. They pushed together on the table, holding hands, hot twisting fingers intertwined for support, and Ben knew he had done his job.

“What is it you really wanted, girls? What is it you wanted to know? To explore?”  He knew the answer, of course. He knew Marie better than anyone, and Ali had told him all he needed in the kitchen.

The women struggled with themselves, then they looked into the other’s tear muddled eyes and, still bent over the table, their red, marked bottoms facing him, they kissed.

“I want to take you to bed,” Marie whispered. It was a question, a plea, a hope, to Ali, to Ben, and to herself. “I want you to come too.”

Ben waited and looked at Ali, who held Marie’s hand and nodded, not quite looking up at him, but he could see the smile on her lips.

Ben lay on his side and watched at first.

The girls covered each other, their hands flew across the other’s skin like birds in mid-flight, tracing the currents and following a pattern of longing that only the other could know. They barely stopped kissing for breath, hands finding every tiny part, all questions answered. They knew how it felt to be touched. They knew where to travel so lightly that it was hardly a whisper, and where to insist deeper and more.

Marie’s head lowered, kissing Ali’s breasts and stomach and farther, seeking the place that would make her gasp and forget herself. She gave Ben a knowing look as she took Ali over the brink, and Ben held Ali safe as she bucked and came; a moment then of still, of calm and quiet, Ali still breathing hard, and Marie still eager and insistent.

That was when the movement changed; stroking, pushing hair away from eyes, fingertips tracing lips, and seeking the third. His hard body came between the two, his penis stiff and welcome.

Inquisitive lips and nuzzling mouths journeyed over one another and over him, wrapped their tongues around him, girls finding each other and him, in turn, and all at once.

Ben placed Marie above Ali, on her knees, a familiar posture. He entered her from behind, watching the cane marks on her bum as he held it, putting himself gently in and up to the hilt, pulling her to him in a gentle rhythm. Ali lay underneath, watching in awe.

She touched Marie persistently, delicately. Her light fingers fluttered in Marie’s folds as she leaned up to take one nipple in her mouth and then the other. Ben was above them both, slow and steady, building the pace until Marie started to break.

She cried out as she came and it was too much; she could not cope with the intensity, but Ben held tightly to her hips and completed into her.

Afterwards, lying down, a pile of warm, languid lovers, two of them said, “Happy birthday, Ben.”

“Well, yes, it really is. And you,” he said, and kissed Marie lightly on the nose, “are a rubbish Top. I think Ali needs someone a bit more forceful.”

He smiled as he fell asleep surrounded by lovers.

! ind 1


6 Responses to “The Birthday Surprise”

  1. Beautifully written, as always! You have such a lovely voice for writing erotic fiction. Xo

  2. 2 Rosie Jones

    Fascinating story Indigo.
    I don’t know what it is about Radley bags, though I have twenty-two.

    Rosie Jones

  3. 3 Svetlana

    Given what I said in my comment on “Dinner Date”, it’s probably no surprise that I simply love this story. While I have no experience of trying to be a top, I have often wondered what it feels like and I can relate to Marie’s curiosity. The long build-up really pays off in the end: By the time Marie and Ali are bent over side by side, they seem so familiar that it is easy to feel with them.

  4. 4 MrJ

    Hard to say iit more eloquently than Scarlet already did. Wonderful story, artfully told. The details – chestnut hair, the business shape of a male – they contribute a lot. x

  5. 5 DJ

    I loved this – I am glad you did too 🙂

  6. Beautifully told story, from the pen of an expert.

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