From: willmac@pixi.com (theshadow) Newsgroups: alt.sex.spanking Subject: Vicky's bad week-shoplifter-M/f (nc) part1 Date: Sat, 29 Jul 95 22:03:29 GMT Organization: Pacific Information eXchange, Inc. Message-ID: <3vf0g4$nb7@rigel.pixi.com> Here is part-1 of story in my collection about a teenaged female shoplifter caught in the act. there are 5 parts to the story and I'll post them in 5 consecutive days. It starts off slow, but there is some great action in parts 2-5. Part 1 kind of sets the scene so-to speak. Hope you enjoy! Aloha, theshadow VICKI LEARNS A LESSON Monday Vicki did a slow, graceful pirouette in the confines of the dressing room, seeing herself from different perspectives in each of the three full-length mirrors. She was, she told herself happily, absolutely stunning in the emerald-green bikini. Danny couldn't fail to notice her--not if she wore this to the senior class swimming party! The thought of Danny made her knees go weak. She saw the top of the bikini in the mirror sprout little knobs as her nipples hardened abruptly. Her face reddened at the thought that a swimming suit could advertise her feelings so readily. For four years--all her life, really--Vicki had maintained what her teachers called a "wholesome" image. She'd behaved in class, done her homework, made good grades, lettered on the girls' track team, joined after-school clubs, never cut classes, said "no" to booze and drugs. It had always been a foregone conclusion that she would go to college after high school, and in the past few months she'd received an almost embarrassing variety of scholarships, based both on her scholastic record and her civic contributions. At the same time she knew, as a matter of calm certainty, that she was the best looking girl in her class. Most of her fellow students would agree that she had the prettiest face, but a number of girls were commonly regarded as sexier. That was because they tended to have dirty mouths and wore clothes that her parents had taught her to regard as "trashy." Vicki had seen those girls taking showers after gym class, and there was no doubt at all that her breasts were fuller and rounder, her stomach flatter, her thighs trimmer and her butt firmer, than those of any of those "sexier" girls. No one else knew that, because Vicki wore clothes that, while attractive, did little to call attention to her figure, just as her reputation as a good student and all around "nice girl" tended to discourage boys' speculative attempts to get inside her clothes. The last two years she'd dated a lot, going out with a number of the most popular boys but never limiting herself to one exclusively. Kissing, even French kissing, was O.K., but she had never let a boy feel her, not even her breasts. It wasn't that she was a prude, she was sure of that. She wasn't determined to be a virgin when she got married, or anything so extreme, but none of the boys she'd met so far seemed all that special to her. Until Danny. Danny who'd transferred to her high school midway through senior year, Danny the third baseman, Danny the soccer forward, Danny who washed his car on Saturday morning wearing only ragged cutoffs. Vicki suppressed a giggle as she remembered thinking, five minutes after she'd seen Danny washing his car, that her pants were probably wetter than his! The problem was that Danny had never seemed to notice her as anyone special. He'd say hi to her in the hall, but he had never asked her out, and she never caught him looking at her the way a lot of the boys did. Vicki knew he'd gone out with other girls, but he didn't seem to have anyone special either. To get Danny's attention, Vicki was prepared to relax her nice-girl image. (In fact, Vicki knew, if Danny suggested it she was prepared to relax more than her image!) The senior swim party looked like her best opportunity. It was two weeks away, after senior exams but before graduation, and everyone would be there. All she had to do was be more noticeable than any of the other girls. The swim party would, in a sense, be her "coming out" party, and no one who saw her wearing the emerald bikini would ever see her again, no matter what she wore, in the same way they'd seen her before. Vicki was pretty sure her parents wouldn't approve of a suit like this one--the bottom wasn't much bigger than the top--and she felt guilty about having to deceive them, but they weren't very likely to find out. What made her feel even more guilty was that, for the first time in her life, she was about to steal something. The price tag on the strapless bikini was an even sixty dollars, and Vicki had exactly $38.47. She'd brought several cheaper suits into the dressing room and tried them on first, but none of the others looked even half as good on her. Her mother would probably advance her enough money, but not without asking why, and Vicki decided that she would rather steal the bikini than lie to her mother about why she wanted the loan. Her purse seemed to be the only place to conceal anything, and Vicki decided that if anyone got suspicious, her own underwear would be less conspicuous in her purse than the bright green of the bikini. She stuffed her bra and panties deep into the purse, covering them with her hairbrush, her pocketbook and a package of Kleenex, and quickly zipped herself into her skirt and buttoned her blouse. She was pretty sure that no one was using the dressing room next to hers, so Vicki took the hanger on which the bikini had hung and dropped it over the partition separating the two rooms. It landed with a soft "thud" on the carpeted floor, but there was no other sound. So far, so good. Vicki gathered up the other suits and their hangers and stepped out of the dressing room. A sales clerk was ringing up a purchase at the counter twenty feet or so away, but she seemed to be paying no attention to the dressing rooms. Vicki walked over the counter and waited until the clerk had finished with her customer. "I'm sorry," Vicki said. "None of these really seems to be 'me'. Should I put them back on the hangers?" The sales clerk thanked her for offering but said that she'd had more practice and could do it quickly, so Vicki left the tangle of cloth, plastic and wire on the counter and started toward the front of the store. Her heart was pounding, and she expected at any second to hear someone shout "stop, thief!" The dreaded shout never came. Vicki stepped out the front door and shuddered with relief. Involuntarily she looked back into the store and saw a young man walking calmly toward her. "Excuse me, miss, didn't you forget your purchase?", he asked politely. He stopped several feet away from her. "No," Vicki responded, walking toward him to avoid raising her voice, "I tried some things on but decided not to buy anything." "I don't want to embarrass you," the young man said apologetically, "but would you mind opening your purse for a moment?" Vicki felt her face turn scarlet. Thank God, she thought, that I decided to wear it. She stepped closer to the young man and handed him her purse. He opened the clasp and began removing the items on top. Then he lifted her bra and panties out and looked at her questioningly. "Those are mine," she croaked, blushing furiously. "Please put them back." The young man complied, and replaced the other things he'd taken from her purse, but he didn't hand the purse back to her. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to come with me to the manager's office," he told her. He sounded a little less polite now. Without waiting for a response from her, he turned and started walking toward the back of the store. Vicki felt a nearly irresistible urge to turn and run outside the store, but where could she go, what could she do? The man had her purse, her car keys, and he would know who she was and where she lived as soon as he looked in her wallet. She forced her rubbery legs to follow the man. He strode the length of the department store without looking back until he had pushed through a swinging door marked "Employees Only." He held the door open briefly for Vicki, then knocked once on a closed door before turning the knob and ushering Vicki into a small office. He closed the door behind her and took her purse over to a desk at the side of the office. "This is Frank Jameson, the general manager of the store," he told her, nodding toward the man seated behind the desk, and then backed out of the office and closed the door quietly. Jameson said nothing, but opened Vicki's purse and began spreading its contents out across his desk. When he came to the bra and panties, he pushed the other items to one side. He straightened the bra and laid it out in the middle of his desk, cups upward and shoulder straps toward himself. Then he smoothed the panties and placed them flat on the desk, waistband toward the bra and about the same distance away as they would have been if Vicki had been wearing both. Vicki felt as though she, and not just her underwear, had been stretched flat on Jameson's desk for him to gaze at. When Jameson finally spoke, his voice was as cold as his expression. "Why were you carrying these in your purse?", he demanded, gesturing toward the lewdly arranged lingerie. "I-I was going to a swimming party," Vicki stammered, "and I wanted to change into those later." "So you're wearing your swimsuit now?", asked Jameson. Vicki nodded weakly. "Let's see it." Jameson's words were a command, not a request, and with trembling fingers Vicki unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it open. Suddenly the emerald cloth seemed too insubstantial to protect her from Jameson's leering eyes. "Show me the rest of it," Jameson snapped, and Vicki wondered whether he wanted to see the rest of the bikini or the rest of her body. She thought about lifting her skirt to let him see the bikini bottom, but somehow that seemed even more degrading than taking the skirt off, so she unzipped it and let it fall to the floor. Vicki stood silently as Jameson made a complete circle around her. She was sure that the brilliantly colored cloth had turned as transparent as Saran Wrap under his probing inspection. "Where did you get this bikini?", he demanded sharply. "I got it here, a couple of weeks ago," Vicki answered. It was her first outright lie, but she had a faint hope that Jameson would accept it, even if he knew the suit had come from his store. Jameson's eyes gleamed. Suddenly, with a movement faster than Vicki would have thought possible from someone of his bulk, Jameson's hand snaked out and caught the front edge of the bikini's waistband and rolled it halfway down. She cried out in surprise and pain as his fingers jabbed through the flimsy cloth into her abdomen, and then her heart sank--for there, nestled among the upper wisps of her pubic hair, was the bikini's $60 price tag, still attached by its nylon filament! "This suit," Jameson told her, jabbing at the tag with his other index finger, "was just put on display yesterday." He pulled his hand away and let the bikini snap back against her skin. Vicki began to sob. "All right," she choked, "I took it, this morning. I didn't have enough money with me, but it was just perfect, and I really needed it. I'll find some way to pay for it." With tears streaming down her face, Vicki stepped out of her skirt and stumbled over to Jameson's desk. She found a Kleenex among the things Jameson had pulled from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. Jameson said nothing. "Please," Vicki pleaded, "I've never stolen anything before and I'll never do it again. Let me give you the money I've got now and I'll bring the rest no later than the day after tomorrow." "I'm afraid that's not our policy, Miss . . . ." Jameson opened her wallet and glanced at her driver's license. "Wilkins," he finished. "Shoplifting costs us so much every year that we've made a firm policy of turning anyone we catch over to the police, and making sure they're prosecuted with maximum publicity, in order to deter other thieves." Vicki began to cry again. "Oh, no," she wailed. "I'm graduating in two weeks. If you prosecute me, I'll get suspended, they won't let me graduate, I'll lose my scholarships. And it will just kill my parents! Please don't do that!" "It's a little late to be thinking of those things now," Jameson responded. He listened to Vicki's weeping and pleading for a minute or two, and then asked her "Would you like to know how we knew you had stolen the suit?" Vicki nodded, not sure why that made any difference now, but willing to do anything to delay her inevitable doom. "Come with me to the security office," Jameson instructed, and opened the back door of his office. Vicki followed him out the door and down a flight of stairs that led to the basement under the store. The stairwell was drafty and Vicki could feel goosebumps springing up all over her barely covered body. Jameson led her through an unmarked door and into another office. This one was considerably bigger than Jameson's, and nicer as well. The walls were paneled, the floor thickly carpeted. The furnishings included a sofa, several easy chairs, a huge desk with glass to protect its wood surface, and wooden shelves stacked with electronic equipment, including a whole row of what looked like small television sets. Below them was one of the largest television screens Vicki had ever seen. "Those little TV screens," Jameson told her, "are hooked to cameras above each of our dressing rooms." Vicki was horrified. "You mean you sit here and spy on people trying on clothes?", she demanded. "I don't," Jameson answered. "We have a woman who monitors the cameras for the women's dressing rooms part of the time and a man who monitors the men's area part time. I only get called when they see something like this." Jameson punched some buttons and snow appeared on the big TV screen. The snow turned into some wavy lines, and then the picture cleared. Vicki gasped as she recognized herself on the screen. She watched herself remove first her blouse and then her skirt. She saw her breasts spring into view, and then the dark thatch of her pubic region. The camera was well above her, but every detail was shown in perfect clarity, even the little mole on the right side of her bottom. She felt nauseous as she watched herself trying on each of the different suits, stripping it off and putting on the next, until finally she put her clothes on over the green bikini. "My God, that's outrageous," Vicki hissed at Jameson after the screen had gone dark. "We will, of course, have to give that tape to the police," Jameson observed, "to prove to them that we had good cause to detain you. And I'm sure it will be very effective evidence at your trial, too." "Oh, no," Vicki moaned in horror. In addition to all of the other humiliations she had foreseen, God only knew how many people would see her totally naked on the tape. Half the cops in town would get copies to show on their VCR's at home, and everyone would know about it. "Please," she begged, "there has to be some way, I mean, I'll do anything you say to make it up to you, but please, please don't go to the police." Jameson looked at her for perhaps two minutes, though it seemed like two hours to Vicki, without saying a word. Finally he sighed. "Look," he said, "you're a thief, and as far as I'm concerned you deserve all the things you say are going to happen to you. There's no way I'm going to let you just walk away from this." Vicki broke into despairing sobs again, but stifled them when Jameson continued speaking. "On the other hand, I suppose if you get kicked out of school you'll probably wind up on welfare, living on my tax dollars and stealing besides, and I don't need that either. So, Miss Wilkins, I'll give you a choice." "What kind of choice?", Vicki asked hesitantly. Not that it mattered a whole lot, because anything had to be better than being turned over to the police. "You can take your punishment publicly, through the 'system', or you can have it privately, right here," Jameson replied. "What do you mean, what sort of private punishment?", Vicki inquired. "A spanking, Miss Wilkins, that will be as painful to you as being prosecuted publicly--that you will remember the rest of your life, and will remember especially clearly if you ever think of stealing anything again." Vicki was both shocked and relieved. She'd been expecting Jameson to demand that she have sex with him, and she thought she probably would have agreed; as loathsome as the idea was, it would have been less ruinous than the alternative. But a spanking! Vicki couldn't remember the last time she'd been spanked, though she recalled that she had received a few spankings as a small child, for running into the street, poking things into electric sockets or really dangerous behavior like that. Being spanked like a child would be humiliating, but it was better than what she'd feared, and certainly better than having that tape spread all over town. "Well, Miss Wilkins," Jameson interrupted her thoughts. "Which is it going to be? Public discipline or private?" "Private, please," Vicki whispered. "All right," said Jameson. "Then let's get a couple of rules straight right now. First, the kind of spanking I'm talking about will take more than one session. Today is Monday, and we'll start today, but I want you back here at four o'clock sharp each afternoon this week; our last session will be on Friday. Is that clear?" Vicki felt the muscles in her bottom tighten involuntarily. This was going to be worse than she'd thought, but what other choice was there? She nodded to Jameson. "You'd better be on time," he continued, "because if you're five minutes late I'll think you've changed your mind, and your file will go to the police." Jameson looked to be sure she was listening. "Second rule," he went on. "When you come here each day, you are to be wearing that bikini you have on now--I want to be sure you remember the connection between the crime and the punishment. Do you accept those rules?" Vicki nodded mutely, and Jameson walked over to the sofa and sat down. "Good," he said, "let's get started. Take your clothes off." Vicki shrugged out of her already unbuttoned blouse but begged to be allowed to leave the scanty bikini in place. "I don't see what you're so concerned about," Jameson told her. "I've already seen you on television, wearing nothing. Besides, I'm not going to spank you with your clothes on." "Please," Vicki pleaded, "I'll take the top off . . . ." She matched her words with the action, exposing her breasts for the first time--intentionally--to a man other than her doctor. "But let me keep the bottom on. No one's ever seen me, down there, I mean, and you couldn't see anything on the tape." Her face and upper body were crimson with embarrassment, and Jameson finally relented. He stood up, walked over to the big desk and reached into one of the lower drawers. "You can keep the bottom on," he said. "However," he interrupted her thanks, "instead of spanking you by hand, as I had intended, I'm going to use this." He held up a black paddle-shaped object. It was a little more than a foot long, with a round handle like a tennis racquet. The "business end" was maybe two inches wide and seven inches long; one face of the paddle part was smooth while the other was perforated with holes about the size of a pencil. Jameson returned to the sofa and sat on the edge. He beckoned to Vicki, who walked shakily toward him, arms folded across her chest. When she came within reach, Jameson grabbed the waistband of her "monokini" and pulled her around to stand beside his right leg. "Down," he instructed, "across my knees." Obediently Vicki draped herself over his lap so that her pelvis rested on Jameson's right leg and her breasts just cleared the outside of his left leg. His arm rested heavily across the small of her back, just above the bikini bottom. Her hands were touching the carpet and she felt the blood rush to her head. She tried to picture how she looked from Jameson's position, and started trembling as she recalled how much of her bottom the bikini left uncovered. Maybe she should have taken it off, she thought, and avoided the paddling that was about to start. Her fear was reinforced when Jameson rested the smooth, cold face of the paddle on the right cheek of her bottom, partly on the bikini and partly on her skin. Vicki sucked in her breath sharply as she felt the paddle lift off her behind. The paddle returned to the spot it had left, but it was moving with all the speed and force Jameson's beefy arm could give it. He watched with satisfaction as the firm roundness of the girl's half-covered asscheek flattened under the thick paddle. "OWW!", Vicki yelled as the pent-up breath burst from her lungs. Her eyes filled with tears as the pain suffused her whole right buttock. She wasn't sure she could make herself come back for five days of this, even if he only gave her one a day, and that didn't seem likely. The paddle landed again, this time in a symmetrical spot on the left side of her butt. Again Vicki yelled in pain, but Jameson paid no attention. He began peppering her backside with a steady series of blows, moving randomly from spot to spot but concentrating on the areas that were left uncovered by the skimpy bikini bottom. Low and outside, he grinned to himself, but still a strike. He wished the girl hadn't been so squeamish about taking off her pants--he would have loved to feel the sting in his hand as it landed on her exposed ass, and he knew he could have spanked her nearly as hard bare-handed as he could with the paddle. On the other hand, if she hadn't been so virginal he probably couldn't have conned her the way he had. Jameson knew that if he'd turned her over to the police she could have copped a plea to a minor misdemeanor and gotten nothing worse than probation, maybe even a deferred prosecution so the charges would be dropped if she stayed out of trouble for a year. The school wouldn't have found out, because minors' names were never released. And of course he couldn't have turned over the videotape--he couldn't very well let the public know that he was taking movies of naked girls in the dressing rooms! He'd accumulated quite a collection of those movies; it was incredible what people would do when they thought no one was looking, especially if you gave them enough mirrors to see all sides of themselves at once. Jameson had thought many times about using shoplifting charges as leverage to get some broad down here, even bought the paddle and some other toys in anticipation, but he'd never before found one who was both scared enough and beautiful enough to be worth the risk. Miss Victoria Wilkins, whose gorgeous ass was now writhing under his paddle, was the first, but well worth the wait. Jameson's musings had not disrupted his rhythm. By the time she'd received eight or ten spanks Vicki's yells had merged into a continuous wail that rose to a wordless cry each time the paddle struck. She began kicking her outstretched legs and rolling her hips, hoping to throw herself off Jameson's lap, or at least to dodge some the force of the blows, but he merely tightened his grip around her waist and swung the paddle a little harder. After the paddle had landed a couple of dozen times Jameson decided to give her a rest. Vicki was begging him incoherently to stop, and Jameson was breathing a little heavily himself. She lay sobbing and shaking across his lap for a minute or more before crawling sideways onto the floor and then standing up. She touched her bottom gingerly with both hands and looked at him pleadingly. "Please, can I go now? It hurts so bad!" Jameson snorted. "Don't be silly! We're a long way from done. I just decided to give you a five minute break." Vicki broke into renewed sobs, assuring Jameson that she was sorry, that she'd learned her lesson and would never steal anything again, and telling him that she just couldn't take any more. When she saw that Jameson was adamant, Vicki said "Please, just use your hand, then. I'll take off my bottom, just don't spank me with the paddle any more, please." Jameson was tempted to agree. He wanted to see her totally nude, and he wanted to spank her bare-handed, but he decided that it could wait until later in the week. Better not to let her think she could negotiate her way out of anything. "I don't care whether you take your bottom off or leave it on," he told her. "You decided on the paddle, and that's what you're going to get. And your five minutes are up." This statement provoked a fresh round of protests and wails from Vicki, but in less than a minute she was back in position across his lap. This time, before picking up the paddle he pulled the edges of her bikini bottom up and toward the center, so only the crevasse between the cheeks of her ass remained covered. This provided him with a much larger target, milky white in contrast to the angry red of the areas he'd paddled earlier. Without any preliminary contact this time, Jameson brought the paddle down with a sharp "SMACK" in the middle of her left asscheek. Vicki howled in pain and rolled toward him in an effort to hide the burning flesh from another blow. Jameson spanked her equally hard on the other cheek, and Vicki obligingly rolled the other direction and exposed the left side of her ass to his next blow. By the time Jameson decided to give her another rest, Vicki's entire ass had turned a fiery red. Again she begged him to let her leave, and again he refused. "I told you this would be a spanking you'd remember for the rest of your life," he reminded the sobbing girl as he pulled her across his lap for the third time. He had given her only a dozen spanks or so when he realized that she'd had enough for one day. Although Vicki cried continuously, and jerked each time the paddle struck, it was clear that she no longer felt the pain of individual strokes. Jameson gave her five more, bringing the paddle down on her bruised buttocks almost as hard as he could, and then told her to get up and get dressed. Vicki pulled the bottom of the bikini back into place, refastened the top, and began buttoning her blouse while Jameson put the paddle back into the desk drawer. She wondered how she could ever make it back up the stairs, but it proved to be easier than she'd expected. In Jameson's office she retrieved her skirt and put it on, then gathered her panties, bra and other things from his desk and put them back in her purse. Only then did Jameson speak. "Tomorrow afternoon, four o'clock," he reminded her. "Come straight to this office and knock on the door--and be sure you're wearing that bikini!" Vicki's began weeping again at the reminder that she'd only experienced the first of five days of indescribable pain. But she nodded through her tears before opening the office door and going back into store that had changed so quickly from a place of delight to one of dread. From: willmac@pixi.com (theshadow) Newsgroups: alt.sex.spanking Subject: Vicky's bad week-M/f (nc) Part2 Date: Sun, 30 Jul 95 02:30:28 GMT Organization: Pacific Information eXchange, Inc. Message-ID: <3vfg4q$q23@rigel.pixi.com> Here is day 2 of vicky's bad week. This is where she starts to learn that crime doesn't pay. Part 3 later. hope you enjoy. Aloha, theshadow Tuesday Vicki locked her car and hurried toward the store. Her watch said it was only 3:55, but she didn't want to take a chance on Jameson's watch being later than hers--after the pain and humiliation she'd suffered yesterday, she wasn't about to go through the public disgrace of a criminal prosecution as well. She'd told her mother when she got home last night that she was really nervous about her exams and didn't feel like eating, and gone straight back to her room and changed into her softest nightgown. She spent the evening trying to study, lying on her stomach; her bottom was much too sore to sit down, or even to lie on her back. Finally, after her parents had gone to bed, Vicki tiptoed into the kitchen and made herself a snack. Most of the time while she was supposedly "studying" Vicki spent reviewing the events of the afternoon and trying to decide whether to go back the next day for her second spanking. She felt horribly guilty about her theft of the bikini--she wasn't that kind of person at all, and she couldn't recreate in her mind the compulsion that had made her decide to take the suit. Sure, she wanted Danny, but there had to be ways of going after him that didn't involve her becoming a criminal. Part of her wanted to hate Jameson for inflicting so much pain on her, but another part of her was grateful to him for giving her a choice rather than just turning her over to the police. And when Vicki thought about the punishment she'd received, it was her rear that recalled the memory of the burning pain, but it was his eyes through which she saw the scene--she could look down and see her naked body across his lap, watch her ass (completely bare, in her mental vision) bouncing and squirming under the paddle in her hand. It made no sense at all. And what made even less sense was the fact that just picturing the scene in her mind made her as horny as she'd ever been in her life, including the day she'd watched Danny washing his car in his cutoff jeans. She'd lain in bed after her snack, still too turned on to sleep. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she'd pulled her pillow down under her hips to raise her bottom up in the air and, stretching her arm back until she could touch her throbbing clitoris with her fingers, masturbated to a shuddering orgasm. Vicki had felt a sense of shame as she drifted off to sleep. She had not been ashamed because she had masturbated--she'd done that a few times before, and she'd read and been told that it was "normal"--but because the image that had stayed in her mind the entire time was not that of making love with some gorgeous hunk, as it had been the other times, but of a naked ass, writhing and twisting in pain as she spanked it with all her strength. By this morning the pain in her tush had subsided considerably, and she could see no bruises when she looked in the mirror. She had already pretty well decided to go back to Jameson again after school, and the realization that the aftereffects didn't last as long as she'd feared they might made another spanking seem at least bearable. Thus Vicki found herself pushing past the "Employees Only" sign and knocking on the door of Frank Jameson's office at two minutes to four on Tuesday afternoon. "Come in," his voice rumbled. Vicki took a deep breath and opened the door. Jameson's eyes gleamed when he looked up and saw her. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "You're right on schedule, Miss Wilkins. I'm glad to see that; I would hate to think that our time together yesterday had been wasted. Shall we go down to the security room?" She gulped but nodded, and Jameson started toward the back door of the office. Then he stopped and turned back to her. "You are, I assume, wearing the bikini under your street clothes?" Vicki nodded again. It was having to stop at a service station and put the bikini on in the rest room that had almost made her late. "Good," Jameson nodded, "you may leave the rest of your clothing here." She pulled off her sneakers, and then her shirt and her jeans. Vicki didn't feel quite as embarrassed removing her clothes in front of Jameson as she had the day before, but she hoped they wouldn't meet anyone in the stairwell. The stairway was as empty, and as chilly, as it had been on Monday, and the security room was as silent. Jameson shut the door behind them and flipped a switch she hadn't noticed before. Must be a lock, Vicki decided. Jameson stood in the middle of the room, looking at her silently. Vicki stood uncertainly for a moment, then removed the strapless top. She turned toward Jameson, blushing, and said "I'll take off the bottom today--that paddle just hurts too much." She peeled the tiny garment down below her knees and stepped out of it, standing totally nude a few feet away from the man who had promised her punishment that she would remember the rest of her life. Jameson gave her a wintry smile. "I thought you would probably come to that conclusion," he said. "However," he continued, "yesterday was yesterday, and we can't go back to the past." Vicki was mystified. "What are you talking about?", she asked nervously. "I mean," replied Jameson, "that we're going to do things differently today." Grasping her shoulder, he led her over to the sofa, which had been turned at right angles and now stood in the middle of the room. Instead of sitting down as he had the day before, Jameson led Vicki behind the sofa, pushing her forward until her naked pubes pressed against the back of the sofa. "Lean forward, Miss Wilkins, until your head is on the cushions." Jameson enforced his command with pressure on the back of her neck, until Vicki lay doubled over the back of the sofa. Instinctively she moved her feet apart so that most of her weight rested on her pelvis atop the sofa. Vicki's forehead touched the seat cushion, and she could feel her nipples hardening from their contact with the rough fabric of the upper cushion. Unable to see anything but the upholstery of the sofa, only millimeters from her face, Vicki closed her eyes and visualized herself as she must look to Jameson. With a start she realized that not only was her bottom totally uncovered, but her spread-legged position gave Jameson a perfect view of the secret area between her legs that she had been so determined to hide the day before. She was even more startled as the feeling of heat and dampness in that area that had kept her awake the night before rushed over her. Perhaps, Vicki thought, this spanking would turn out to be quite endurable--as long as Jameson used his hand instead of that hellish paddle! Jameson was equally enthralled by the position of his delectable victim. He was not surprised, of course; he had worked out all of the positions, as well as their sequence and the "toys" he would use for each, in his mind months before. Last night he had moved the sofa to make plenty of room for him to stand behind the girl--and to provide better angles for the three video cameras that were taping everything that took place in the security room. This production would require a lot more editing than the single-camera sequences from the dressing rooms, but when he finished it would be a masterpiece that he would savor for years! If anything surprised him it was the absence of any sign on her unblemished ass of the paddling she'd endured yesterday. Then, of course, he'd used only the smooth side of the paddle, while today he'd be using the perforated side. Tomorrow, he guessed, those perfect cheeks would not be quite so unmarked. He had known the girl was a knockout from the moment he'd seen the tape from the dressing room, but now her naked beauty, only inches away from him, and the fact that she seemed more at ease today, was enough to bring a lump to his throat, and certainly to his pants! It took all of his will power to refrain from stooping down and licking her furry little cunt with his tongue, or unzipping his pants and burying his rigid cock in her. He was sure that it would slide in without resistance, even though the girl was a virgin--something had sure happened to turn her on since the previous afternoon! Jameson shook his head as if to fling his thoughts away. Time to get back to business. He walked quickly over to the desk to retrieve the paddle. The girl must have heard him open the drawer, because when he looked at her she had raised her head and was staring at him with widened eyes. "Oh, no, please," she begged, "don't use that again. I thought you were going to spank me with your hand if I took off my bottom." "That was yesterday, Miss Wilkins," Jameson replied firmly. "I was willing to start you off a little easier the first day, but you decided otherwise. Each day we will move on to something different, just as each year of school gets harder than the last." Vicki's face revealed her panic. "Please, no," she whimpered, "I couldn't stand anything that hurt more than yesterday! I thought you would be happy when I took my bikini off." "I knew you would do that," Jameson assured her, "and if you hadn't I would have taken it off for you today. And you can, and will, stand whatever I give you, just the way you've always been able to do what was required of you in school--even though the work increased and became harder as time went on." Jameson was walking as he spoke, and by the time he had finished he was standing behind and to the left of her, the paddle in his right hand and his left hand pressing firmly down at the base of her spine. Vicki clenched the cheeks of her bottom together in fear. She realized that in talking about "increased" and "harder" schoolwork, Jameson was revealing his plans for the course of her punishment. She had decided that she could endure four more spankings like yesterday's, but if they were going to get worse each day, she would simply go out of her mind! The pressure of Jameson's hand increased as he drew back the paddle, and Vicki held her breath in anticipation. Her suspense was short-lived. The paddle landed with a "CRACK" on the fullest part of the left cheek of her rump, and she howled in agony. It felt like an entire nest of hornets had stung her behind at the same time! Before she could finish her outcry the paddle struck a second time, lower on the left side. Vicki began to thrash, kicking her legs wildly and pushing against the sofa with her hands in a vain effort to regain her feet, but Jameson's hand, pressing her hard against the flat top of the sofa's back, kept her buttocks in place as he spanked them again and again. The girl's frenzied movements delighted Jameson as he continued the paddling. The runner's muscles in her ass and thighs alternately bunched and relaxed as she struggled, and the twisting of her torso raked her erect nipples back and forth across the ribbed upholstery, first distending the breast he could see and then hiding it from view. And it was easy to see where he had already spanked her and where he could inflict fresh pain. Yesterday, the skin touched by the smooth face of the paddle had turned a mild pink over a period of several seconds, but today, each smack with the other face immediately left an angry red patch punctuated with small white dots, in a pattern matching the holes in the paddle. After twenty five or thirty strokes there were few areas left unmarked and Jameson decided to give her a rest break. She stopped struggling once she realized the spanking had ceased, but even after he lifted his restraining hand Vicki continued to lie over the back of the sofa sobbing convulsively. Gradually Vicki's tears subsided and she rose to her feet, cupping the cheeks of her bottom with both hands. "Please," she implored Jameson, "please stop now. You can't imagine how terribly that hurts." "Of course it hurts," he responded sternly, "and it's going to keep on hurting--terribly. If I hadn't been positive that it would hurt I would have called the police yesterday and you would have spent the night in a cell. I told you yesterday that private discipline would be every bit as painful for you as that you faced publicly. If you think you would find criminal charges less painful than what you're getting here, then you'd better put your stolen bikini back on while I make a call to the precinct captain." Jameson glared at the girl as fiercely as he could while practically holding his breath. If she called his bluff, he'd be lucky to stay out of jail himself! But of course she didn't. With fresh tears she whispered "No, don't do that. But please, can't we do it like yesterday, with me over your knees? I thought that was terrible, but this is so much worse! Please?" Jameson shook his head and told her to get back in position over the sofa. Slowly she complied, bending her knees this time instead of spreading her feet to accommodate her long legs to the relatively low sofa back. Jameson quickly grasped one of her thighs with each hand and, feeling no resistance from the sobbing girl, pulled them wide apart. He could spank her just as effectively either way, but he enjoyed watching her snatch as he paddled her and, more importantly, he wanted the cameras to have the best view possible! Vicki wondered vaguely why Jameson wanted her legs spread apart. She supposed it was because he wanted to see the area between them, but she no longer cared very much. She was resigned to the fact that she would have to accept whatever punishment he cared to administer, because letting him go to the police was just unthinkable. If she made him mad enough he might just do it anyway--it seemed as though he'd almost reached that point a few minutes ago--and she determined to be as cooperative as she could make herself be for the rest of the week. If only his spankings didn't hurt so much! She felt the pressure of his hand increase and tried to make herself relax before the hornets stung her again. This time they came very low, across both cheeks at once, just above the place where her bottom met her thighs. Vicki tried hard not to move, but there was no way she could keep from crying out. Again and again they stung her, all over her bottom but mostly along the edges of the crack that separated the halves of her rear, coming dangerously close to the secret area between her legs. Each time she screamed and twitched, but held on to her resolve to be cooperative. After the paddle had stung her a dozen or more times, though, the pain overcame her fear of making Jameson angry, and she began to struggle again. She kicked with all her athlete's strength, trying futilely to deflect Jameson's aim. When that failed she planted her feet and tried to swing her hips from side to side, to dodge the blows, but the pressure Jameson was applying to her lower back kept her from moving more than an inch in either direction. Worse still, Jameson began spanking the backs and insides of her thighs, and continued until she stopped struggling. Then the paddle moved upward and an especially venomous bunch of hornets swarmed over her backside, stinging, biting and ripping at her skin until Vicki was sure there was none left. Just as suddenly they had come the hornets left, and the room was silent except for the echo of her last agonized scream. Jameson lifted his hand from her back and Vicki clawed her way forward, dragging her legs over the top of the sofa until she was able to topple off the front edge. She huddled on the floor for a minute and then rose slowly to her knees. Just as slowly she raised her head until her eyes found his. "Please, Mr. Jameson, that's enough," she cried. You have to stop. I feel like I'm on fire, and I just can't take any more. Please, I beg you." He looked at her steadily for a moment before speaking. "You have had a rather severe spanking, Miss Wilkins, but that's what you're here for. I will give you another two minutes to rest, and then you will go back over the sofa so we can finish for the day." He knew that she had already received a far more painful beating than he'd given her the day before, and he didn't intend to give her more than another half dozen strokes. But he was also determined to make her realize that he would not succumb to any amount of pleading. Vicki sank back to the floor and lay prone, moaning "I can't, I just can't," over and over. Still holding the paddle, Jameson looked at his watch. When two minutes had passed he snapped "Your time is up, Miss Wilkins. On your feet." He waited while she struggled to her knees. "I can't," she repeated. Please don't spank me any more." "Miss Wilkins, I am warning you. Get back in position or I will make you very, very sorry!", Jameson shouted. Vicki rose to her feet but made no move to return to the sofa. Angered now by her disobedience, Jameson seized her hand and pulled her toward him. Planting his right foot on the sofa, he dragged her over his horizontal thigh and clamped both of her hands behind her back with his left hand. "NO, DON'T," Vicki wailed, but her cry ended in a shriek of pain as he began swatting her bruised buttocks with the perforated paddle. Her legs flailed helplessly as he blistered first one cheek and then the other. Instead of the five or six strokes he'd intended, Jameson spanked her another two dozen times, more than half of the blows landing in previously unmarked areas on her upper thighs. Finished, he pulled his foot off the sofa, dropping Vicki unceremoniously into a sobbing heap on the carpeted floor. "That's more than double what you would have received if you'd obeyed me," Jameson told her, "and you have no one but yourself to blame." He turned on his heel, tossed the paddle into the desk drawer and strode to the door. "You know where my office is," Jameson snapped. "I'll be there for the next thirty minutes. Unless you want to walk home without your clothes, you'll be there before I leave." He opened the heavy door of the security room and slammed it behind him, leaving Vicki to weep alone. Vicki lay sniffling on the floor for a few more minutes, but the awareness that her punishment was over the for day soon revived her spirits. She thought about the evening ahead. She couldn't skip dinner with her parents two days in a row, and she really did need to do some studying. She hoped that she wouldn't find herself as distracted as she'd been the night before. Those thoughts stimulated her memory of that strange image of being the giver and at the same time the receiver of a painful spanking. Rising to her feet, Vicki walked behind the sofa and pressed herself against it, bending forward until she was in the same position Jameson had demanded. She heard herself moan as her tender breasts contacted the scratchy fabric, and she began shifting her weight from one foot to the other and back again, swaying gently from side to side and raking her hardening nipples across the vertical sofa cushion. Suddenly Vicki had the sense that she was looking at herself, from a position behind and above her moving hips. She felt the pressure of a restraining hand--but she knew it was her hand--on her lower back, forcing her to stop moving, and she saw, and at the same time felt, the muscles in her ass begin to twitch as they waited in terrible anticipation for her to begin the spanking. She could see a dark area where those trembling asscheeks met the widespread thighs below them, but her mind refused to supply any detail to the dark area, because Vicki had never seen her secret place from that angle. She wished that there were a couple of mirrors positioned so she could see for herself what Jameson saw, but there were none in the room. Hoping to create the missing visual image from her sense of touch, Vicki raised her head and torso until she was leaning forward only slightly and slid her right hand slowly down her lower spine, through the tingling valley between the bruised cheeks of her posterior, until she felt the slippery groove in her secret place. Although she had intended only the merest touch, a wave of heat surged around and through her like a blast of tropical air, and Vicki felt her fingers being pulled inside her. She leaned backward, still pressed against the sofa, so her fingers could penetrate more deeply, and cried out with shock and amazement as her body seized control. Her body alternately sucked her fingers deep within itself and expelled them, and her buttocks writhed in an erratic circle, forcing her protruding clitoris into repeated contact with the edge of her hand while the nails of her other hand clawed across her swollen breasts until her nipples were the size of thimbles. Her movements became more and more frantic as she felt the orgasm building inside her, until finally it surged through her in wave after dizzying wave, casting her at last onto the back of the sofa, exhausted. Vicki wouldn't know it for a long time, but she had provided Jameson's video cameras with the most torridly erotic footage he would ever see. As Vicki's mind began to clear she realized that nearly thirty minutes must have passed since Jameson had left. Still trembling from the impact of the waves that had swirled through her, Vicki retrieved the emerald bikini and put it on. She opened the door of the security room a few inches and peeked out. There was no one in sight, and she climbed the stairs on rubbery legs and knocked on Jameson's door. He opened the door and stepped back as Vicki entered. "I was beginning to think that you had decided to spend the night," he remarked. Vicki pulled her shirt on and buttoned it, but had to brace herself against Jameson's desk in order to pull her jeans over her trembling legs. Assuming her shakiness resulted from the final frenzied spanking he'd administered, Jameson said "I trust you've learned now not to disobey me, and that you won't need any further reminders." She assured him that she had learned. "Good," he said. "I will see you, then, at four o'clock tomorrow." Vicki nodded her agreement and left the office to make her way through the half-darkened store.