The Deal (part 4)


bent-over-for-him Part 1 here

“Where did you hang it?” John asked as Carolynn arrived for her weekly meeting with him.

“Sorry?” she asked glancing at her notes as if she had forgotten something.

“The gift I gave you?” John frowned.

The framed lines, he meant, she now realised and averted her eyes in discomfort.

“Oh that… it is hanging… on my wall,” she answered, trying hard to remember where she was supposed to have hung it.

In truth the framed side of A4 was under a pile of towels secreted beneath her bed. She had considered discreetly placing it next to her pin board where no one would give it a second glance, but the stark red ink announced its true nature from the other side of the room. The weekly cleaner would see it, if no one else, and it was hard to think that Imogen or Lucy wouldn’t slip into her room to ‘borrow’ perfume or some such.

“Which wall?” John pushed her.

“Eh… my bedroom of course, you don’t think I want that seen in the kitchen,” she laughed, now making light of it. “I put it behind the door if you must know. I doubt if anyone will come in and close the door.”

It sounded plausible, but Carolynn knew that the electric sockets were also behind the door where Mrs Janacek plugged in her vacuum.

“Hmmm,” John growled and muttered something.

Carolynn smiled innocently and moved to put her bag down.

“I have a new task for you this week,” John continued.

“Oh yes?” Carolynn looked up apprehensively.

“You have met Henry, but for next week I want you to identify five other implements of chastisement and write a paragraph about them and place them in order of severity, as you see it.” John watched his protégée for any reaction.

Carolynn worked her mouth and felt a pulse in her head. She had expected a hard time, and thinking in straight lines, she had assumed that she could call upon her resources to endure what was chosen for her. It had been ever thus for her entirely adult life. But this was evil. John wanted her to think about what he was doing with her and forcing her to engage with it.

“You mean like the cane, whip and stuff?” she threw at him with a casual shrug, but her face was glowing hot and she hated her weakness.

“The cane I will accept, but you will have to be a bit more specific about your choice of whip and I will only accept one type as an example,” Dacia said smoothly as he sat back on the edge of his desk.

“Whips come in types?” Carolynn blurted.

“Indeed they do,” he chuckled, “But not all are readily suitable for apply to a woman’s naked bottom.”

“I don’t suppose they are,” she muttered and looked at the floor.

John smiled indulgently. “You’ll never get used to it you know, but eventually you will get used to not getting used to it,” he said.

“Used to what?” Carolynn sucked in her cheeks and didn’t meet his eyes.

“I think you know,” he said sharply.

She shrugged.

“Tell me,” he commanded.

Carolynn drew in a deep breath and then flicking a quick glance at him she mumbled. “All of this, you know, getting sp-spanked.”

“And what is ‘all of this’?” he insisted.

“You know,” she shrugged again.

“I do, but suppose you tell me,” he said sternly.

“Come on, you know what I mean,” she blushed horribly.

John Dacia heaved a very heavy sigh and then reached for something in the draw.

“I was going to use my hand again,” he said wearily.

“But I…” Carolynn gasped when she saw Henry.

She was upended easily and hauled across his lap as he sat down in the same armless chair he had spanked her in before. Having him strip her of her somewhat masculine pinstripe trousers and more feminine knickers was surreal. Not that there was anything masculine about her hind end, in trousers or not.

“I think you know you have this coming,” he barked.

“Ooh,” she squealed and looked in horror at the outer office, just one readily opened door from John’s secretary.

The brush landed with a firm thwack to her tail and she couldn’t help but yelp. It was a girlish squeak and she clapped a free hand to her mouth and blushed. What am I a movie damsel in distress?

The second solid smack made her eyes bulge and she gasped out another shrill note. I guess I am, she thought ruefully as the onslaught began.

In the minutes that followed she squirmed on his lap as she bucked her legs in his iron grasp. At points she growled and gurgled angrily as she tried not to shout, but it quickly became more bearable to vocalise the pain. Even that did not stop the onrush of water at her eyes.

I won’t cry, I won’t, she prayed fiercely as she crossed and re-crossed her ankles. But after another few minutes that proved to be a lie and she began to hiccough out sobs as a prelude to fully voiced bawling. Her bottom was stinging, aching and burning all at once as she was spanked.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she wailed, not really knowing what she was sorry for.

“The whole thing, getting spanked, going to the corner, how you feel, what is it called?” John was almost yelling in her ear, but the volume was urgency not anger.

His pounding arm was poised mid spank as he waited.

“My submission,” she sobbed.

“Bingo,” John chuckled, “One thousand lines for next week, ‘I am a submissive who must learn to submit.’”

“But what about the other stupid thing,” she protested.

“Stupid thing?” he rasped as the spanking resumed, “You’ll do that too,” he told her.

Outside the door the secretary thought she heard… well it was a long drawn out waaa sound, that and as low steady clap of applause. Then she placed it and shot a glance at the door to Dacia’s office. The grin reached her eyes. So the rumours were true.

To be continued.

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