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Vicki Learns Her Lesson
by Author Obscure (1993) 
 
***

A teenaged female shoplifter caught in the act. (M/f-
teen, nc, blkmail, v, tor, whipping, oral, anal-play)

***

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 okay, 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 her- 
self 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 ass-cheek 
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 laid 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 badly!" 

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 ass-cheek. 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. 


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 after- effects 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 
yesterdays, 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 
for the 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 ass-
cheeks 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. 


Wednesday 
---------

At five minutes before four the next afternoon, Vicki 
found herself knocking for the second time on the door 
of Jameson's office. Obeying the muffled call for her 
to come in, Vicki slipped into the office and closed 
the door behind her. 

Jameson was seated at his desk, poring over a stack of 
printed forms. He glanced up when he heard the door 
click shut. "Ah, Miss Wilkins," he said, "I'm glad to 
see you're so prompt. 

We'll go downstairs as soon as I finish these, so you 
may as well get ready." 

Vicki kicked off her sandals and unbuttoned her 
sundress and pulled it over her head. Wearing only the 
emerald green bikini that had gotten her into this 
mess, she stood uncertainly for a moment and then sat 
down in one of the shabby chairs facing Jameson's desk. 

The chair was covered in a coarsely woven material that 
felt scratchy wherever it touched Vicki's skin -- and 
given the skimpy size of the bikini, that included a 
considerable proportion of Vicki's bottom. Her rear was 
still a little achy and tender this afternoon, but 
she'd been able to sit through her classes without 
squirming too obviously, she thought. She'd even 
managed to sit at the table and chatter through dinner 
last night, as though she had no concerns beyond those 
of any other graduating senior. 

Vicki wondered how today's punishment would be 
administered and what it would feel like. Vicki had no 
doubt that this afternoon's spanking would hurt, but 
she hoped it wouldn't be as much worse than yesterday's 
as that had been worse than the day before. The first 
day would have been a hand spanking, if she hadn't 
refused to strip all the way. The second day was that 
horrible paddling. 

She still couldn't understand why it had hurt so much 
more yesterday than it had the day before; with the way 
Jameson had pulled the sides of the bikini bottom into 
the middle of her behind, she'd been almost as bare the 
first day as the second. And unlike the first day's 
paddling, which had left no marks on her skin at all, 
last night and even this morning the skin of her bottom 
had been mottled with dozens and dozens of reddish 
dots, almost as though she really had been stung by 
swarm after swarm of insects, just the way it had felt 
while Jameson was using the paddle on her. 

Thinking about her mottled bottom reminded Vicki of how 
it had looked in the mirror the night before. Excusing 
herself after dinner, she had gone to her room, 
ostensibly to study, but she'd been careful to lock her 
door. She had dragged her desk chair a few feet away 
from her full-length mirror, and, placing her pillow 
over the back of the chair to pad it, she had bent over 
the back of the chair, her bottom toward the mirror and 
her legs spread. It had been awkward, but she had 
managed to get a pretty good idea of how she had looked 
to Jameson in the afternoon. 

Her rear had still been pretty red then, and she had 
stroked and squeezed the widely spread cheeks with both 
hands. Her fingers had parted the silky tangle of hair 
between her thighs until she could see her secret place 
clearly. She wished she knew what to call that place, 
but the only words she'd learned, like "vagina", 
"labia", "clitoris", and so forth, sounded more like a 
sex-ed book than like the parts of her body she'd 
explored last night. 

She had overheard bits of giggling conversations among 
other girls who used other terms that Vicki thought 
probably referred to their secret places, but she 
wasn't positive -- and she would rather make do with 
the textbook words than find out later that she had 
misunderstood what the other girls had been talking 
about. 

The fingers of one stroking hand had crept down to 
spread her labia, which were damp and slippery inside. 
The slipperiness seemed to suck first one of her 
fingers and then two deep into her vagina, and within 
seconds Vicki had found herself first squirming and 
then writhing frantically as she bent over the chair. 

She had told herself to stop, or at least to go lie on 
her bed, but her fingers and her hips were no longer 
controlled by her mind. Even when the pillow slid off 
onto the floor and the top of the chair back dug 
painfully into her stomach, Vicki had been unable to 
stop her gyrations until violent orgasm had surged 
through her, leaving her dangling weakly over the 
chair. 

"All right, Miss Wilkins, let's go." Vicki jumped as 
Jameson's voice interrupted her reverie. Blushing, she 
got to her feet and tugged at the bikini bottom, which 
seemed to be stretched uncomfortably through her 
crotch. Jameson opened the back door of his office and 
led her down the chilly concrete stairway. He opened 
the door of the security room and stood to one side to 
let her enter first, then closed the door and flipped 
the switch on the doorframe. 

Without waiting for instructions, Vicki stripped off 
the bikini, tossed it onto a chair and turned to face 
Jameson. He marveled at how much she had changed in two 
days. Monday she had been tearful, pleading, appalled 
by the thought of being nude in front of him. Now she 
had stripped without being told to, and stood facing 
him, feet comfortably apart, her arms crossed not to 
conceal her tits but to support and display them. He 
hoped that her apparent lack of fear didn't mean that 
she was no longer afraid of his filing charges against 
her, because with that fear would go both his leverage 
and his safety. 

"I trust," Jameson addressed her sternly, "that you 
remember the lesson in obedience you received 
yesterday, and that you won't force me to repeat it." 
He stared hard at her, hoping to see evidence that her 
attitude wasn't as confident as it seemed, and was 
elated to see her body stiffen as she remembered that 
final fierce paddling the day before. 

"Oh, no," the girl stammered, "I mean, yes, I remember, 
and no, I don't want to be spanked like that again, not 
ever." Despite the girl's stance, there was a tremor in 
her voice, and she shivered as her skin erupted in 
goosebumps. 

"Good," Jameson nodded. "Well, then, today I don't want 
to have to touch you." 

"You mean you won't, I can, you're not going to spank 
me?" 

There was eager hope in the voice, but Jameson thought 
he detected just a trace of disappointment in the 
girl's eyes. 

"I mean just what I said -- I'm not planning to lay a 
hand on you. You will stay here, however, and I am 
certain that you will be very much aware that I am here 
also," Jameson responded. "Come over to the desk. Stand 
against the front, facing the chair." 

The girl complied quickly, even spreading her feet wide 
apart so that he didn't need to force her to do that. 
"You are to stay in that position until I tell you to 
move. You may rest your arms on the top of the desk if 
you wish, but you are not to move your legs. Is that 
clear?" he demanded. 

She nodded and leaned forward until her forearms rested 
on the glass desk top. The position thrust her ass back 
from the edge of desk provocatively, and it was all 
Jameson could do to keep from drooling. He walked 
around to the back side of the desk and stooped to open 
one of the lower drawers, from which he drew a leather 
strap about 30 inches long and three inches wide. 

He had looked long and hard before he had found it in 
an antique store. It was a razor strap, the kind that 
once had hung from every barber's chair; they were used 
to hone the edge of a straight razor, although many of 
them found other uses as well, as Jameson knew from his 
boyhood and Miss Victoria Wilkins was about to learn. 
Although the leather had been abraded and thinned by 
tens of thousands of razor strokes, it remained heavy 
and exceptionally supple. 

"You have learned what wood can feel like, Miss 
Wilkins," Jameson told her as he straightened up and 
kicked the drawer shut. "Today you will learn about the 
feel of leather." 

She turned her head to follow the strap as he walked 
around the desk and took a position behind and to the 
left of her waiting ass. He was pleased to see the 
mottled appearance of the previously unblemished skin; 
yesterday's paddling hadn't left any major bruises, but 
each hole in the face of the paddle had left its own 
mark each of the dozens of times the paddle had touched 
her.

He noticed that her upper thighs were marked, too, but 
his eyes were drawn inexorably to the tight young pussy 
they framed. Despite the chill that had shaken her a 
few minutes earlier, her snatch was damp, either with 
sweat or with something else, and Jameson again felt 
the all-but-irresistible urge to run his tongue over 
those burgundy surfaces. 

The girl was still looking over her shoulder as he 
raised the strap. Her ass-cheeks clenched in 
anticipation, squeezing the lips of her cunt together 
at the same time. "Please," she whimpered, "don't spank 
me as hard as yesterday." 

"I assure you, Miss Wilkins, that this won't be like 
yesterday," Jameson responded as he swung the strap. He 
was aiming for the base of her left cheek, but the 
strap landed two or three inches higher. The force of 
the leather impacting on the girl's bare ass flung her 
forward against the edge of the desk, and she cried out 
with a mixture of pain and surprise. The knotted 
muscles in her buttocks relaxed as she rocked back from 
the desk, and Jameson lifted the strap to swing it 
again. 

Vicki had watched Jameson pick up the strap and step 
behind her with both curiosity and relief. She could 
see that the leather was thick and heavy, but she could 
also tell by the way it dangled from his hand that it 
was very soft. She was sure that it would hurt less 
than the paddle, probably even less than a hand 
spanking. 

Even so, when he started to swing the strap toward her 
she had felt her rump tighten up, as though hard 
muscles could somehow shield her exposed bottom from 
the leather. It hadn't done any good -- the hissing 
strap burned her behind, and its weight and speed drove 
her forward against the square edge of the glass desk 
top. 

Before she really had time to think about how much the 
leather hurt compared to the paddle, the strap smacked 
into her again, this time on the right side of her 
bottom. She cried out again, her eyes beginning to fill 
with tears. 

Unlike the paddle, which had burned like fire the 
instant it struck, the leather strap only stung a 
little bit at first -- but the sting seemed to echo 
around inside Vicki's tush, growing stronger and 
stronger as it resonated. She was only beginning to 
feel the full effects of the first lash when the strap 
bit into her for the third time. 

"AIEEE!" Vicki wailed. Jameson had swung the strap 
upward, catching her just below the fullest part of her 
left cheek, and Vicki could feel the whole mass of her 
left buttock lift and then fall back as the hissing 
leather coursed over it. The next stroke came straight 
down on the upper surface of the same cheek, and her 
knee buckled as she howled with pain. Another upward 
swing of the strap brought her back to her toes. 

Tears streaked Vicki's face and dripped from her chin 
to splash on the glass desk top as the scourging 
continued. She wanted desperately to obey Jameson's 
command that she stay in the same position, to avoid 
making him angry again, but each lash seemed to magnify 
the hurt of each of the previous ones as well as adding 
its own. Finally, Vicki could stand it no longer, and 
let herself be driven to the side by a horizontal 
stroke of the razor strap. 

"I didn't tell you to move, Miss Wilkins," Jameson 
thundered. 

"I know, I'm sorry," Vicki cried. "I just can't help 
it, it just hurts too much! Please, I beg you, just 
spank me with your hand." 

"We've already discussed the rules, Miss Wilkins. If 
you don't have enough self-discipline to do as I tell 
you, then I'll have to restrain you." Jameson dropped 
the strap onto the surface of the desk and walked 
around it. He rummaged in the drawer from which he'd 
taken the razor strap and emerged with several short 
strips of leather. They had metal buckles and looked, 
Vicki thought, like extra-wide dog collars. 

"Get back where you were," Jameson ordered curtly. 
Vicki slunk back to the middle of the front edge of the 
desk. Jameson seized her right ankle roughly and jerked 
it sideways until her foot slammed into one of the 
short legs that supported the front of the desk, then 
whipped one of the dog collars around her ankle and the 
desk leg and buckled it tightly. He repeated the 
process with her left ankle, then stood up, walked to 
the back of the desk pulled the chair out and sat down. 

Vicki kept her eyes downcast. She was afraid to look at 
him. She wondered why he wanted to rest, but she was 
sure that he was going to do something awful to her for 
disobeying again, and now she couldn't run away to stop 
the pain, even for a few seconds -- although maybe that 
was just as well, she thought. At least she wouldn't be 
able to do anything to make him angrier. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when Jameson jerked her 
left arm toward him, bending her forward across the 
desk. Vicki flinched as her left nipple touched the 
cold glass surface of the desk, but he held her hand 
tightly while he buckled another of the leather straps 
around her forearm. He must have run the strap through 
some kind of ring on the back edge of the desk, because 
her arm was now immobilized. Just as quickly she found 
her right arm fastened tightly, separated from the left 
by a couple of feet. 

The position was extremely uncomfortable. The front 
edge of the desk top bit deeply into the fronts of 
Vicki's thighs, just below her crotch, and both arms 
were forced just as painfully against the back edge. 
Her breasts just grazed the top of the desk, but her 
nipples had hardened and elongated so much from 
touching the cold glass that no matter how she 
squirmed, she was unable to draw her body up enough to 
avoid the contact. 

"I'm sure you wish now that you had stayed in position, 
Miss Wilkins," Jameson remarked as he stood up, "and 
you'll wish it even more before we're through today. 
But I'll help you keep your mind off the little 
discomforts you're feeling now." He lifted the razor 
strap from the desk and walked behind her. 

Vicki felt more terrified than she had at any time 
since she had first been taken to Jameson's office. 
With all of the spankings she'd had up till now, she'd 
at least been able to see him, or feel when he lifted 
his arm. But now all she could do was look down at the 
desk, knowing that Jameson was somewhere behind her, 
not touching her, but about to inflict enormous pain on 
her helpless bottom. 

Jameson wasn't surprised that the girl had to be 
restrained. He doubted that he could have held still, 
when he was her age, for the kind of strapping she was 
getting -- or could now, for that matter. Not that he'd 
had any recent experience. The last time he'd had a 
real licking with a razor strap was probably when he 
was about 13, but he doubted that it felt much 
different at any age. The leather was really deceptive; 
it seemed soft and harmless, but with the right kind of 
muscle behind it, the strap could be about as painful 
as anything. Except a cane, of course -- but that was 
for tomorrow. 

He surveyed his trembling target. The girl's legs 
weren't spread quite as wide as he would have liked, 
but there was nothing but the inner legs of the desk to 
which he could have tied her ankles, and he could see a 
small rectangle of the desk framed by her thighs and 
her tantalizing little cunt. The girl would have been 
more comfortable if her waist and the desk top had been 
at the same height, but he doubted that she would 
notice her stiff back after another few minutes. She 
wouldn't be able to move much forward or backward or up 
and down, but she had enough slack for some sideways 
movement, and Jameson guessed there would be plenty of 
that as soon as she felt the strap again. 

The luscious ass-cheeks were already marked with some 
wide pink stripes from the initial 15 or 18 lashes, as 
though a painter had begun outlining a picture on 
canvas. Now it was time to begin filling in the blank 
spots. Jameson grinned at the analogy as he selected an 
unmarked area on the right cheek and raised the razor 
strap. 

His aim was good. The strap landed high on the outer 
surface of the girl's right ass-cheek. She gave a sharp 
cry of pain and swung her hips hard to the left in a 
vain effort to dodge the force of the heavy leather. 
Jameson gave her a backhanded swat that cut across the 
middle of both cheeks, provoking another scream and a 
swing of hips back to the right. 

Jameson continued thrashing the helpless buttocks, 
changing the direction and rhythm of his swings at 
random. After a series of downward diagonal slashes, 
alternating left and right, that had the girl howling 
and begging, he stopped for several seconds, watching 
her hips twitch and jump within the limits of her bonds 
as she tried to anticipate where the strap would bite 
into her next, and then launched a new series of 
horizontal and upward strokes. By the time the strap 
had slapped down 25 or 30 times the girl was sobbing 
uncontrollably, crying out only at every third or 
fourth lash, and Jameson decided it was time to give 
her a rest. 

"Five minutes," he told her, tossing the strap onto the 
top of the desk beside her. The girl gave a long, 
shuddering groan. 

"Please," she implored, "no more. I've learned my 
lesson. Even without the first spanking, I would never 
have taken anything again. You just keep hurting me 
more and more, for no reason." 

Jameson didn't respond, and Vicki knew he wasn't about 
to change his mind. In fact this spanking wasn't as bad 
as the one yesterday had been, but she hoped that if he 
thought she found this even worse, he might not whip 
her too much more. 

The strap did hurt, of course -- it hurt a lot! But it 
was nowhere near as bad as that awful paddle; if she 
had to choose between ten spanks with the paddle and 
twenty with the strap, she'd choose the strap in an 
instant. Besides, when he wasn't actually using it, 
like now, the memory of the way the strap kind of 
curled around her bottom made her wish she could touch 
her secret place the way she had after the spanking 
ended yesterday. 

The thought reminded her of the way her secret place 
had looked in the mirror last night, and then of the 
view Jameson must have of it now, and a sudden thought 
alarmed her. Thank goodness he hadn't hit her there 
with the leather strap -- that would have to hurt 
something awful! Vicki wished she could stand up 
straight, or close her legs, or do something to protect 
that part of her body. Suppose he let the strap hit her 
there, even by accident! She began to struggle against 
her bonds with all her strength. 

"Getting restless for some more, are you, Miss 
Wilkins?" Jameson asked mockingly. He lifted the thick 
strap from the desk. 

"Oh, no, please, no more," Vicki entreated. She 
clenched the muscles in her bottom as tightly as she 
could, trying unsuccessfully to protect the most 
sensitive part of her body from the blow she knew was 
coming. She heard the hissing of the leather a split 
second before she felt it. To her dismay, the strap cut 
across the very tops of her thighs, barely touching the 
lower edge of her bottom, only millimeters from the 
area she was trying to shield. 

"NO!" she shrieked. "Don't spank me down there, 
please." The strap snapped across the inside of her 
left thigh, midway between crotch and knee, and then 
again, an inch higher on the inner surface of her right 
thigh. Vicki screamed and twisted frantically in the 
restraints, finally standing on her toes as the lashes 
crept inexorably higher. 

Just as Vicki was concluding that the next stroke would 
to prove her worst fears accurate, and hoping that she 
would faint quickly from the pain, Jameson decided that 
he had tormented her enough and lashed her instead 
across the fullest part of the left side of her bottom. 
He repeated the same stroke several times, and Vicki 
cried out with each, but her cries reflected relief 
more than pain. 

Vicki continued rolling and swinging her hips, managing 
occasionally to avoid at least part of the force of the 
prolonged strapping. Her cries were real, but so was 
her sense of reprieve now that Jameson was 
concentrating the lashes on her behind. She could even 
make herself think about going home and reliving 
today's spanking in the privacy of her room. 

Finally Jameson stopped and dropped the strap beside 
her on the desk. This spanking had gone on at least as 
long as the previous days', and Vicki waited for him to 
begin unbuckling the dog-collar straps to let her go. 
She was startled by his voice. 

"We would be through for the day, Miss Wilkins, if you 
had not forced me to restrain you. As it is, however, 
we will take a short break and then I will have to give 
you another lesson in obedience." 

Remembering how terribly that final flurry of spanks 
had hurt the day before, Vicki began to plead. "You 
might as well relax and save your breath, Miss 
Wilkins," Jameson interrupted her. 

Vicki fell silent, trying to focus on the pain in her 
wrists and her lower back as a distraction from the 
throbbing in her bottom, which she knew would get a lot 
more intense before she could leave. At least the glass 
was no longer cold where her breasts touched it; her 
body heat had long since eliminated that discomfort. 

She tensed as she heard the razor strap slide across 
the desk. Much as she wished this spanking were finally 
over, it hadn't been as bad as yesterday's, and no 
matter what Jameson did now, it couldn't possibly be as 
painful as when he'd bent her over his leg and used the 
paddle on her. Vicki closed her eyes and tried to force 
herself to relax. 

The strap swung straight upward, raking across the 
tender flesh between the halves of her bottom. Vicki 
howled with pain and renewed terror. Lunging from side 
to side she tried to make the lashes land on the 
muscular facets of her bottom, but Jameson unerringly 
caught the inner face of first one cheek and then the 
other, spreading them wide apart and raising new 
crimson stripes with stroke after stroke, each one 
slightly lower than the last. 

Vicki yelled at the top of her lungs for Jameson to 
stop, but she felt a sickening certainty that this time 
he would not relent -- that the end of the strap would 
reach lower and lower until it touched her labia, and 
lower yet until it curled completely around her secret 
place. Still she struggled and writhed, until her 
wrists and the fronts of her thighs were raw from 
rubbing against the edge of desk top and her nipples 
had left long streaks of sweat on the glass top of the 
desk. 

When it finally came Vicki felt almost numb, as though 
she'd been struck by a small bolt of lightning. The 
strap flew upward, searing the insides of her thighs 
before it cupped her secret place. She could feel the 
very tip of the leather curl against her pubic bone. 
She thought it hurt, probably hurt unimaginably, but it 
was hard to tell because of the tingling surge of 
electricity that rushed through her body. 

The strap began teasing her, slapping fiercely at the 
sensitive areas between the cheeks of her bottom and 
then returning, without warning but with equal 
severity, to fling itself against the outer folds of 
her secret place. Her brain reeling with the confusion 
of signals her nerves were sending, Vicki could manage 
no more than a strangled gasp of a cry at each stroke. 

Jameson gave her a final lash that covered an area as 
wide as the strap from mid-thigh to coccyx, and then 
let the strap dangle in front of him. He didn't know 
exactly what to make of the last few minutes; the girl 
had seemed earlier to be absolutely terrified that he 
might whip her pussy, but when he'd laid the strap on 
her all her fuses seemed to blow at once. Either she'd 
liked it, which seemed hard to imagine, or else he'd 
really hurt her. 

That thought troubled him, though not because he was 
concerned about the girl's pain -- she had that coming. 
Jameson was worried first that she might decide to tell 
someone, which could mean a great deal of trouble for 
him, and second that she might not show up for the 
remaining sessions, which would be a major 
disappointment. Maybe he'd better look at the 
videotapes as soon as she left, and see if he could 
tell any more about what had happened. 

Jameson walked around to the back of the desk, opened 
the drawer and tossed the razor strap inside. Then he 
unbuckled first one of the girl's arms and then the 
other. She groaned and began massaging her wrists. Good 
-- that didn't seem like the response of someone who'd 
really been driven round the bend. He stood up and went 
to release the ankle straps. 

He had just unbuckled the second strap when the girl 
stretched her legs wide apart, slid her feet back and 
flattened her torso on the desk top with a groan. From 
his kneeling position, Jameson found himself looking 
past her red-streaked thighs to her spread-lipped 
pussy. He felt himself hardening, and slipped a hand 
into his pocket to adjust the position of his cock as 
he got awkwardly to his feet. 

"You can't stay here today," he told her gruffly. "I 
have to leave the store for a while, and this room must 
be locked." 

Vicki slid backward off the desk top with a groan. She 
had hoped to spend a few minutes alone in the security 
room, the way she had yesterday, but things would have 
to wait until she got home. She eased the lower part of 
the bikini over her aching bottom, slipped into the 
top, and followed Jameson up the drafty stairs to his 
office. 

Jameson watched her put on her street clothes over the 
sweat-stained bikini. "I'll see you at four tomorrow, 
Miss Wilkins." 

Vicki nodded and left his office, her feelings still 
confused. She ached all over, her joints from the 
awkward position in which she'd been tied, her poor 
bottom from the spanking she'd received, and her secret 
place from both the strapping and from the tingling 
shocks that had convulsed her. She knew that she would 
spend a long time this evening reviewing today's 
session in her mind. 


Thursday 
--------

When Vicki arrived at Jameson's office she found an 
envelope, addressed to "Miss Victoria Wilkins", taped 
to the outside of his door. She ripped it open with a 
pounding heart. It must mean that Jameson wasn't there, 
so maybe she wouldn't get her spanking today! She found 
herself both pleased and a little disappointed by the 
thought; she'd been psyching herself up all day and 
didn't want to have to do that again. Besides, tomorrow 
was supposed to be the last day, and if Jameson didn't 
spank her today he might want to give her a double 
session tomorrow. Vicki didn't see how she could stand 
that! 

With shaking hands she unfolded the handwritten note 
and read it: 

"Miss Wilkins: I have had to leave the store for a few 
minutes but will be with you shortly. You know the 
routine. Go into my office and lock the door behind 
you. Leave your clothing there and then wait for me in 
the security room." 

"F.J." 

Vicki stuffed the note and its envelope into the pocket 
of her chinos and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, 
and she entered the empty office, shut the door and 
twisted the deadbolt. 

She pulled the tail of her blouse out of the waistband 
of her slacks, then unbuttoned it and dropped it on one 
of Jameson's chairs. She stepped out of her loafers, 
unzipped her pants, and quickly added them and her 
socks to the pile on the chair. 

She wondered if Jameson expected her to take the bikini 
off here too. The note had said "clothing", but Vicki 
decided that meant just her outer clothes. It would be 
embarrassing enough to meet someone in the stairwell 
dressed only in her swimsuit; she couldn't take a 
chance on running into someone stark naked! 

Closing the back door of Jameson's office quietly 
behind her, Vicki made her way down the cold cement 
steps. The door into the security room had been propped 
open with a rubber doorstop, and she peered quickly 
into the room to be sure it was empty. Vicki picked up 
the doorstop and let the door fall shut behind her. She 
started to flip the switch on the doorframe as Jameson 
had done, but it was already on -- so either the door 
was locked now or else the switch wasn't a lock. 

Vicki stripped off the green bikini and crossed the 
room to sit on the sofa. Her tush ached some whenever 
she sat on it, but it was a deep kind of ache, not near 
the surface, and it didn't really bother her. She gazed 
across the room at the glass topped desk, and 
immediately pictured herself, as she had the night 
before, bent awkwardly over it. She saw her bare bottom 
and the lips of her secret place, and could feel the 
weight of the leather strap as she drew it back and 
swung it toward the waiting cheeks of her own behind. 

She felt the muscles in her tush bunch under her as she 
imagined the heavy strap slapping hard against her 
skin. Just as it had in her room the night before, her 
hand slipped unconsciously to her crotch, and Vicki 
moaned as her fingers slipped between her labia and 
touched the gooey warmth of her secret place. 

Jameson, watching the videotape monitors in next room, 
began to breath raggedly as the girl started 
masturbating. It was exactly what he'd guessed would 
happen, after watching the tapes from the three 
previous sessions last night and seeing how she'd spent 
her time alone in the security room after Tuesday's 
paddling, but he still found the scene almost 
unbearably stimulating. 

The girl might do a lot of screaming and begging while 
he was working her ass over, but the sessions really 
seemed to turn her on. Thank god he'd remembered to 
turn on the video recorders before she'd come down to 
the security room! He waited until the girl was 
writhing and bucking on the sofa, her fingers plunging 
rapidly in and out of her gash, before slipping into 
the hallway and walking into the security room. 

He stopped abruptly and stared at the girl in pretended 
shock and amazement. It took her a second to register 
the fact that she was no longer alone, and then she 
jerked her fingers out of her cunt and sat motionless. 
Her entire body turned a shade of scarlet he wouldn't 
have imagined possible, so dark he could barely 
distinguish her wine-colored nipples and areolas from 
the surrounding skin of her boobs. 

"Well, Miss Wilkins," Jameson said with mock anger, 
"you really had me fooled. I had thought you were being 
punished, but now I see you've really been enjoying our 
little sessions. 

Obviously you need something a lot more severe than 
what you've been getting up till now." 

"Oh, no, Mr. Jameson," Vicki said with horror. "I 
haven't enjoyed the spankings at all, they hurt 
terribly. It's just that, well, I'm not used to sitting 
around naked, and I started thinking about something 
else. I know I shouldn't have been, uh, doing what I 
was, but please don't do anything that hurts more." She 
burst into tears. 

"I don't know whether to believe you or not," Jameson 
responded, "but I'm quite sure you won't feel like 
playing with yourself when I'm finished with you 
today." He opened the desk drawer and removed the 
restraining straps he'd used the day before. Clutching 
those in one hand, he walked over to the sofa and 
seized the sobbing girl by the arm. He pulled her to 
her feet dragged her over to the desk and pushed her 
down on top of it. 

"Get on the desk and lie face down," he ordered. The 
girl climbed onto the desk and started lie lengthwise 
atop the glass surface, then stopped with a gasp. 

"It's too cold!" she exclaimed, still on her hands and 
knees. 

"You'll be quite warm in a minute, Miss Wilkins," 
Jameson assured her, seizing her arms and pulling them 
out from under her. She protested loudly as the full 
length of her body contacted the glass desk top, but he 
held her wrists firmly as he passed one of the 
restraining straps through a ring attached to one 
corner of the desk and buckled it tightly around her 
forearm. He repeated the same steps with the other arm 
at the other corner of the desk. 

"Please," she implored him, "I'll hold still today. Let 
my arms go, and I'll just lie here." 

"I don't think that's very likely, Miss Wilkins," 
Jameson commented grimly. Sobbing again, the girl tried 
to get her knees under her as he moved to the other end 
of the desk, but Jameson caught her ankle with one hand 
and quickly strapped it to a corner of the desk. When 
he finished buckling the fourth strap, the weeping girl 
lay spread-eagled, face down on the desk, essentially 
unable to move. The solid, creamy hillocks of her ass, 
barely tinged with pink, jutted upward, inviting his 
attention, and Jameson intended to give it in full. 

He walked behind the desk and pulled the wide center 
drawer out as far as he could. Wedged into it 
diagonally, with a slight bow to accommodate its 
length, was a birch cane -- another trophy from days 
spent in antique shops. Jameson had heard that they 
were still used sometimes in British schools, and no 
doubt there were some that maintained firm discipline 
in a few homes in this country, but the only one with 
which he had had "first hand" experience had long ago 
disappeared. 

Even now, the memory of how that one had seared his ass 
and the backs of his legs made him wince. Victoria 
Wilkins was about to have an experience that, like the 
strapping he'd given her yesterday, very few -- too few 
-- of her generation had ever had. Jameson was willing 
to bet that if she decided to jack off tonight, or 
tomorrow, she wouldn't do it sitting down, or lying on 
her back either. 

He flexed the cane and lifted it out of the drawer, 
then walked around to the end of the desk nearest the 
girl's head. 

"Today, Miss Wilkins," he informed her, "your 
punishment will be administered with this cane." He 
showed it to her, bending it and then whipping it 
sharply downward to let her hear the "whirr" as it 
sliced through the air. Then he moved to the front of 
the desk and rested the cane across the twin summits of 
her ass-cheeks for several seconds, watching the 
muscles twitch as goosebumps spread across the skin. 
Then he raised cane to roughly the height of his head 
and brought it down sharply. 

Vicki had suspected that she was in serious trouble 
from the instant she had realized that Jameson had 
walked into the room without her hearing him. Her fears 
had been confirmed when he had insisted on strapping 
her to the desk without even waiting to see whether she 
would hold still. She had inferred then that whatever 
kind of punishment he had in mind was going to be much 
worse than she'd experienced in the three previous 
days. 

What on earth could have possessed her to start 
fingering her secret place when she had known that 
Jameson would arrive within a matter of minutes? She 
certainly should have known, from her experiences in 
her bedroom the last three nights that once she got 
started with that she would be totally oblivious to 
anything else around her. Now she was practically glued 
to the icy glass top of his desk, her breasts squashed 
flat as pancakes by the weight of her body, unable to 
move to relieve even part of the pain. And any second 
now, Jameson was going to lift that cane off her rump 
and bring it whistling back down. 

Maybe it would have happened anyway -- Jameson had 
hinted that each day's spanking would be worse than the 
last -- but why had she given him such a clear reason 
to believe that she had been enjoying his punishments? 
The fact was, of course, that she didn't enjoy the 
spankings at all while they were happening, and what 
excited her most when she thought about them afterward 
was the image of giving a spanking, not getting one. 
The only good thing was that unless he kept it up for a 
really long time, that cane couldn't hurt all that 
much. It was too light to bruise her bottom like the 
paddle or the leather strap, and so small it could only 
touch a tiny area at a time. 

Vicki's thoughts were interrupted by a heart-rending 
shriek, and it took her several fractions of a second 
to realize that it had come from her. In the same 
instant her brain was penetrated by a blinding flash of 
pain from her bottom. It felt as though her lower body, 
from the middle of her rear down, had been sliced off 
by a sword! 

She started to pull against the straps that held her 
ankles, but before she could make her muscles obey her 
thoughts she heard the cane whistle again and felt 
another streak of pain across her rear. This time the 
sensation of pain came before the scream, but the sound 
was just as involuntary as her first shriek had been. 

Vicki fought to catch her breath, to form some word of 
plea or protest to accompany her next scream, but each 
time the cane cut into her backside another wordless 
howl tore itself from her lungs. She felt like one of 
the rubber dolls she'd had as a child, with a little 
metal button that made a crying sound whenever you 
squeezed it, and wondered hysterically if there were 
buttons hidden in her buttocks that emitted a scream 
whenever the cane touched them. 

 She didn't really believe that, of course; the screams 
were her body's involuntary reaction to the most 
horrendous pain she'd ever experienced. The sensations 
evoked by each stroke of the cane were like the 
distilled essence of pain, clear and crystalline, in 
contrast to the crude, opaque pain caused by her 
previous spankings. Without conscious effort on her 
part, her body bucked and jerked, alternately slamming 
her knees, her sternum, her hipbones and her frontal 
pubic bone against the unyielding surface of the desk -
- all of which caused new aches and bruises but did 
nothing to interfere with the cane's unobstructed 
access to every square inch of her bottom. 

Vicki felt on the verge of suffocating when Jameson 
finally laid the cane down on the desk top between her 
knees. She lay gasping, the muscles in her legs and her 
buttocks continuing to spasm, for nearly a minute 
before she was able to cry. "Oh, god, stop, please 
stop," she sobbed. "You're cutting me to ribbons! I 
can't stand any more, I beg you." 

Jameson grinned. "I don't think you have much choice in 
the matter, Miss Wilkins. You're going to stay right 
where you are until I decide that you've been punished 
enough for today." 

"Then please, use the strap, or the paddle -- anything 
but that cane," Vicki entreated him. "I don't care if 
you spank me twice as many times, just so you don't use 
the cane on me any more." 

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Miss Wilkins," Jameson 
replied firmly. I'm glad to know you're finding this 
painful; perhaps you'll keep this experience in mind 
the next time you think about stealing something." He 
picked up the cane and walked around to the end of the 
desk to which her feet had been anchored. 

Jameson gazed up the girl's long legs to her pussy and 
then to her quivering ass-cheeks. The once-creamy skin 
was marked with scarlet welts, many of which had 
swollen well above the surface of her ass. The welts 
were at slightly different angles but all of them were 
more or less horizontal. By changing positions he could 
leave her with a nice checkerboard pattern. 

He could also give one of the video cameras an 
unobstructed side view of her writhing, bucking body 
(although the one he'd mounted directly overhead this 
morning was bound to be getting some terrific footage), 
and give himself a good view of her beaver at the same 
time. 

He rested the cane in the middle of her right ass-
cheek. The girl immediately renewed her tearful 
pleading, which he ignored, and her right buttock went 
rigid and her thigh muscles bulged as she pulled 
helplessly against her bonds. He raised the cane high 
and brought it whistling down hard. He let the cane 
drift several inches sideways as it descended, and it 
created a momentary but deep furrow in the relaxed left 
cheek of her ass. The girl let out another of her 
unearthly screeches and rolled her hips sideways by the 
inch or so she was able to move. 

The resilient muscle of her ass bounced the cane back 
into the air, and Jameson brought it down equally hard 
on the other cheek, provoking another shriek and 
leaving another vertical welt. This was a lot less work 
than the paddle or the razor strap, Jameson reflected, 
especially when you considered how much more dramatic 
the response was. Maybe he should have used the cane 
from the beginning. On the other hand, if he'd used the 
cane the first day the girl would probably never have 
come back, so he really had been wise to bring her 
along gradually. 

Jameson found the girl's shrieks almost deafening. He'd 
planned to give her a second rest break and then a 
third session with the cane, but now he was impatient 
to be through with her. 

He increased the tempo of his strokes, leaving furrow 
after furrow to be replaced instantly with rising 
welts, until the entire surface of her convulsing ass 
was a tight grid-work of blood-red stripes and her 
cries had merged into a continuous scream, interrupted 
only by gasps for breath. 

He swung the cane a last time, then strode behind the 
desk, flexing the cane to wedge it back in the drawer. 
The girl lay sobbing and moaning, not even moving as he 
unfastened each of her bonds in turn. Jameson left her 
atop the desk, lit a cigarette and crossed the room to 
sit on the sofa until her shuddering sobs had ceased. 

Then he got to his feet. "You can obviously do what you 
want with your own time, Miss Wilkins," he remarked, 
"but if you need something to keep your hands busy 
tonight, I might suggest that you put some ointment on 
your ass instead of playing with your pussy." He 
started toward the door of the security room, then 
stopped and turned toward her. "I'll be in my office 
for a couple of hours, so you can take your time." 

Dimly Vicki heard the door close as Jameson left. She 
lay motionless for another few minutes, then bent her 
elbows and lifted herself until the weight of her upper 
body rested on her forearms. She didn't even try to 
move her legs; she was sure she was paralyzed from the 
waist down. Except that if she was paralyzed, then she 
shouldn't be able to feel anything, and the sensations 
emanating from her bottom sure didn't feel like nothing 
-- they felt like the most burning, cutting kind of 
pain she'd ever known. 

Supporting herself on one arm, Vicki reached back and 
ran a hand over first one buttock and then the other. 
Both were blazing hot to her touch and covered with 
ridges. She looked backward over her shoulder and 
gasped when she saw the maze of dark welts that criss-
crossed her buns. The sight brought fresh tears to her 
eyes, and she collapsed with a groan onto the desk top. 

Why, oh why, had she ever let herself be tempted into 
stealing the bikini? She hated even the thought of it 
now. And how was she going to survive tomorrow? She 
didn't see how she could tolerate being touched, let 
alone spanked, and Jameson seemed determined to make 
each day's spanking worse than the last. 

Large tears splashed the desk top as Vicki slowly 
pushed herself backward, the square edge of the glass 
sheet gouging her knees, her thighs, the soft flesh 
covering her pubic bone and then her stomach as she 
slid off the desk. Finally she felt the carpet under 
her feet and pushed into a standing position. She 
walked slowly around the security room, her posterior 
throbbing with every step. 

She knew she should put the bikini back on and go get 
her clothes from Jameson's office, but she dreaded the 
thought of pulling the tight bottom of the swimsuit 
over her bruised behind. 

And once she got dressed, there would be nothing to do 
but go out to her car and drive home, and she wasn't at 
all sure she could force herself to sit down in the 
car. As an experiment, she backed up against the edge 
of the sofa and gingerly transferred her weight from 
her legs to her rear. 

It wasn't as bad as she had expected; the scratchy 
fabric was unpleasant, but driving home would be 
bearable. Sitting on the sofa reminded Vicki of the 
shame she had felt when Jameson had walked in on her an 
hour earlier, catching her with her fingers inside 
her... Jameson had called it her "pussy", and that was 
one of the words she'd heard whispered at school, so 
maybe she should start thinking of it as her pussy 
instead of just her "secret place." She also knew that 
"ass" was another word for "bottom" or "tush," although 
she was sure her parents wouldn't approve of her using 
the term. Of course, her parents wouldn't approve of 
her stealing from stores, either, so from now on, with 
Jameson at least, she would think of him spanking her 
ass and not her bottom. 

Vicki found herself picturing how she must have looked 
to Jameson, spread-eagled on the desk, with her ass 
just waiting for each stroke of his cane, and before 
she realized what was happening the fingers of her 
right hand were probing the entrance to her... pussy. A 
slight shift of posture sent another stab of pain 
through her ass, though, and she jerked her hand away 
angrily and got to her feet. What on earth was the 
matter with her? Jameson could decide to come back for 
some reason, and she'd find herself ass-up under the 
cane again. 

Still annoyed with herself, Vicki pulled the strapless 
bikini top over her head, slid it down to cup her 
breasts and adjusted the strap in back. Then she eased 
herself carefully into the bottom of the suit and 
climbed the empty stairwell to Jameson's office. He was 
on the phone when Vicki slipped in through the back 
door, and she struggled into her outer clothing without 
a sound. 

Jameson was off the telephone by the time she finished 
dressing. "Tomorrow is your final day, Miss Wilkins," 
he reminded her. "I wouldn't want you to waste the 
punishment you've already received by failing to show 
up or coming in late." 

"Oh, I'll be here," she assured him, "assuming I can 
make it out of bed tomorrow." 

"I'm sure you'll do just fine, Miss Wilkins," he 
replied frostily. 


Friday 
------

Jameson was upset with himself. He had lost control 
during yesterday's session with Vicki. He was not upset 
because of the severity of the punishment he had 
inflicted of her bare, unprotected ass and thighs. 
Quite the contrary, in fact, was true. He was upset for 
the reason that losing his patience caused him to 
negate some of the enjoyment factor of the session. He 
was remembering the events of the past four days and 
came to the unmistakable conclusion that Miss Victoria 
Wilkins was the finest piece of ass he had ever had the 
pleasure of punishing. Not to mention the loveliest 
pussy he had probably ever seen. 

He pondered all this while watching one of the tapes 
from yesterday's session and was getting upset again. 
"DAMN!! I didn't set the rear camera up right!" In his 
haste Thursday he didn't get the angle quite right and 
therefore the view was not as good as it should have 
been for a good look at her beautiful cunt. 

'Well,' he determined right then, 'that this would NOT 
happen today.' After all, if this was to be the last 
time he would get a chance at this lovely female, he 
was going to enjoy every second. 

He glanced at his watch and noted he had an hour before 
the appointed time and headed downstairs to check the 
special preparations he had made for today's 
punishment. 

The Maintenance Chief was at the door when he arrived, 
after a quick stop at domestics, "Hi Charley" he said. 
"Oh, hi MR. Jameson... I couldn't get the desk inside. 
You are the only one with a key to this room..." 

"That's okay Charley, I'll open it up so we can get it 
inside." 

They moved the desk into the room and positioned it so 
that the two identical desks were right against each 
other so that if you where sitting at one, you would be 
facing the person at the other. He thanked Charley and 
followed him to the door locking it behind him. 

He returned to the desks and pulled out the object he 
had brought from the bag and placed it across the desk. 
It was one of those hard-foam pillows. You know the 
kind that are supposed to be so good for your neck. He 
had chosen it for another reason, of course. He picked 
this king-sized model for its firmness and size. It fit 
perfectly. 'It would raise her lovely little ass to 
just the right height,' he thought to himself and 
managed a wry smile. 

He then replaced the wrist and ankle straps with longer 
ones. 'She is going to be spread as far as her legs can 
get...' 

His earlier dark mood was now completely gone as he 
repositioned the camera's for optimum viewing angles. 
He stood back and admired his work with satisfaction. 
He was now ready for his little victim. Vicki was 
dressing to leave for her appointment, or perhaps un-
dressing would be more appropriate, since she was 
getting out of the clothes she had worn that day to put 
on that very costly swimsuit. 'No sense in 
overdressing' she mussed to herself, after all I won't 
be wearing anything very long.' 

She stopped to turn and check out her backside in the 
full length mirror attached to the back of her door. 
She looked over the marks left by yesterday's 'lesson' 
as she now was referring to them and could not believe 
how badly welted she was. She had put lotion on her 
butt and thighs at least 20 times already and it still 
looked like she had been whipped an hour ago, not 
almost 24 hors ago. What she really couldn't believe is 
that she was going back. 

She thought about this as her hands were, almost as if 
they had a mind of there own, gently stroking her ass, 
legs and thighs. Also in her thoughts was the fact of 
how incredibly aroused she was. After all, she had 
played with herself at least 10 times since yesterdays 
'lesson', and had brought herself to an unbelievable 
number of orgasms (even for her) and yet she was still 
horny. 

"You little slut!!" she said to her own reflection in 
the mirror and made one pass with her middle finger up 
then down her already wet slit and considered laying 
back down for another finger-humping session, but 
thought better of it. 

After all, it would not do at all to be late for her 
last 'lesson'. 'Don't make it worse than it has to be 
girl...' she thought to herself as she looked down at 
her pussy to check the shave she had given herself in 
the shower just before this. 

Not that she had much hair to begin with, but now all 
that was left was a narrow band directly above her 
cunt. The lips and for an inch above were completely 
bare. After the shower she rubbed a generous amount of 
baby oil on her freshly naked mound, cumming several 
times in the process. 

'I look like a 13 year old' she thought as she finished 
dressing. Well, maybe if he is busy staring and lusting 
after my cunt, he won't beat me so bad today. 

It was a good thought, but she didn't realize how 
determined Jameson was becoming at this very moment and 
what a very good view indeed he was about to have of 
that lovely spot between her legs, or she would have 
thought twice about the shave job. 

She grabbed her bag and headed for the door with a 
certain amount of excitement and dread. 

Jameson was waiting for her with a look of impatience 
as she arrived at the door to his office. "Well Miss 
Wilkins, Almost 5 minutes late today. I guess you 
aren't taking this as serious as I thought. This is 
going to cost you a little extra for your tardiness!" 

She just bit her lip and finally stammered out "I'm 
sorry Mr. Jameson, but I had to do some chores around 
the house and just couldn't get here sooner..." 

Her lie was obvious and lame at best, but the only 
thing she could think of at the time. 

He had to force down the smile that he felt coming on 
and replied, "Well, we will have to give you a little 
lesson in promptness in addition to everything else... 
won't we." 

She couldn't even come up with a response, out loud, to 
this, but to herself she said, 'FUCK, I'm really in for 
it now...' 

'How right you are,' would have been his response if 
she had said it out loud. 

"Okay, Miss Wilkins, time to finish your punishment. 
Let's go." He led her down to the room and opened the 
door. She walked in, immediately saw the double desks 
in the center of the room and let out a small, but 
audible gasp. Not so much at the two desks pushed 
together, but at the huge oversized pillow lying across 
them. 

"What the hell is this!" she said out loud almost not 
meaning to and regretting it as soon as it came out. 

"Well, Vicki, it's a way for me to present your 
backside and other area's, for the punishment which I 
am about to give you." And a way for me to get the best 
shot at your lovely pussy he thought to himself. It was 
then that she noticed his hand on her shoulder, gently 
squeezing and propelling her forward at the same time. 
It was also then that she noticed the throbbing between 
her legs and the moistness quickly building inside. 
This was the first time he had touched her, or used her 
first name, other than for the punishment itself, and 
she was definitly getting aroused. 

'Get a grip girl... This guy's just some jerk who gets 
his jollys by beating young females,' she thought to 
herself, but it didn't help, she was still getting wet. 

It was then that a sudden BLEEEEEEPPPPP...BLEEEEEPPPPPP 
went off and startled her out of her thoughts. It was 
his cellular phone, which he answered with a curt 
"Jameson" followed by a few mumbles and a "okay, I'll 
be right there." 

"Well Miss Wilkins, you will have to wait a little 
longer. I have to see to a small matter, but don't 
worry I'll only be gone about 15 minutes, so why don't 
you get undressed and lay face down across the desk and 
I'll be back." The call, of course, was pre-arranged so 
he could go and watch her for a time before starting 
the session. He wasn't disappointed. 

After surveying the scene a moment longer, she quickly 
undressed and slowly lay down on the desks. She placed 
her hips directly on top of the hard, foam rubber 
'pillow' and was actually quite surprised to find this 
to be the most comfortable position she had been given 
so far. She also knew her 'comfort' was to be short 
lived. 

After laying there for a minute she turned to see the 
mirror directly behind her on the wall about 4 feet 
away. Then she spread her legs to where she knew he 
would most likely bind them and was shocked to see just 
how exposed she was. Her pussy was so open by being 
raised and spread that her now rock-hard clit was 
actually protruding clearly from between her lips. 

This only served to increase her arousal and she almost 
thought she could see her sensitive clit throb 
slightly. 'Just my imagination' she said to herself. 
She then reached down under between the pillow and her 
body to play with her hot, wet cunt. 

She stroked her clit, rolling it around with 2 fingers 
and it took only a few minutes until she came, long and 
hard, leaving her panting into the desktop. Jameson, of 
course was watching these activities with lustful 
interest and fighting the obvious bulge which 
threatened to punch a hole right through the front of 
his pants. He forced himself back into control. He 
wanted to enter the room just as the girl was cumming, 
so that he would have an excuse to give her that 
'extra' whipping right on that very spot that she was 
so enjoying right now. 

He had been thinking of this since the other day when 
he had been whipping her with the strap and gave her 
several strokes right between her legs and she actually 
came back for more. He debated for a long time about 
this and came to the conclusion that she either liked 
it, or he had her so cowed that she would accept 
anything he wanted to do. Besides, he said to himself, 
I may never get this good an opportunity again. Hell, 
if she was going to report him she would have done it 
by now, right? Well anyway, he had made up his mind and 
there was no going back now. How far he went would 
depend on her reactions. Just as Vicki was finishing 
her orgasm, Jameson opened the door and shut it with a 
BANG!! "Well Miss Wilkins, it looks as if you have 
learned nothing from these little sessions of ours!!" 

Vicki literally jumped off the desktops, heart pounding 
(both from her cumming and from the shock) and started 
to stammer again, "I'm-m-m Sorrry Mister Jameson... I-I 
j-just couldn't help it... I-I'm sorry..." is all she 
could get out.

"Never mind, never mind that now Miss Wilkins, just get 
back up on the desk so we can get started, I haven't 
got all day." 

Vicki then slowly got back up on the desktops, setting 
herself squarely over the pillow. Jameson then tied her 
hands, taking his time, enjoying the moment. He next 
went down to tie her legs, making sure her hips were 
right on the pillow and mildly surprised that they 
were. 

It was when he was tying her second ankle, her legs 
spread about 5 feet wide from toe-to-toe, that he first 
noticed her totally hairless pussy. He almost dropped 
the ankle binding he was holding and just stared, and 
stared. 

Her hard pussy lips were spread apart revealing the 
pink moistness inside. Her clit was protruding out from 
under its little hood and was sticking out straight 
from between those beautiful lips. 

He was almost in shock and his cock was now so hard 
inside his pants it actually hurt. He didn't care, 
almost didn't even notice, until he though he heard, in 
a small voice, "Mr. Jameson..." She of course knew 
exactly what he was staring at and it was driving her 
crazy, not to mention getting her even wetter, so she 
just wanted this to get over with so she could get home 
to relieve this incredible itching between her legs. 
Her voice broke him out of his trance-like staring of 
her bared cunt and finished tying her right leg, making 
sure he gave one last push to the side, making her 
grunt slightly. 'You'll be doing a lot more than 
grunting in a minute missy...' he thought to himself. 

He walked over to a table and pulled something long and 
black out of a bag. 

She knew what it was, of course. She had, after all 
been riding many times and knew a riding crop when she 
saw one, but she had never seen one quite like it. It 
was longer than any she had seen. 

It was, of course a very special one and the prize of 
Jameson's collection. It had a core of very hard, not 
too flexible fiberglass, wrapped tightly with a one 
inch strip of black leather and tipped with a roughened 
black rawhide end which was also longer than normal. He 
had let it soak for several hours last night so it 
would be extra stiff and hard. 

It LOOKED dangerous and she was starting to get a 
little scared. She was just then getting the idea, from 
the look in his eyes, that she was in for the beating 
of her life. She was getting more worried by the 
minute. 

"JUST START ALREADY' she was thinking, but he was 
taking a last few moments to admire her. 

The way her ass was sticking up above the desk almost a 
foot. The way her legs were spread so far apart that 
all the area of her inner thighs and pubic region where 
completely exposed for his pleasure. Even how her 
breasts were clearly visible from the way her body was 
angled up from head to hips. Yes, she was lovely... and 
she was his... 

Jameson finally broke the silence. "Well, Vicki, this 
is your last session with me... and it's going to be 
the worst and most painful by FAR... I'm going to give 
you 3 separate sessions today, each about 10 minutes 
long, so I hope that after this day that you will think 
twice about breaking the law... here we go.''' He had 
been slowly working his way over to her left side as he 
was talking and when he stopped... 

THHHWWWAAAKKK... came the crop down across her bare 
butt. Before, with some of the implements he had used, 
there was a moment of nothing between the hit and the 
pain. Not so here, the pain was immediate and 
unbelievable. To make it worse, or as bad as it could 
get, he pulled the weapon down and back towards him 
sharply as soon as it made full contact. This meant 
that not only did the business end of the crop slam 
into her unprotected flesh, but he actually dragged it 
back across her ass leaving a long welt about 5 inches 
long and an inch wide from the crop end and a thinner, 
but equally painful, welt all the rest of the way to 
the other side. 

She screamed. Hard, long and loud and before she even 
got to take in a breath... 'THHHWWAACCKKKKK!' came the 
next... and the next. 

'THHWWWAAACCCKKK!' "AHHHHHIIIEEEE! 

'THHHWWWAAACCCKKK!' "AHHHHHIIIIEEEEEEEE!"

'THHHWWWAAACCCKKK' "AHHHHHIIIIEEEEEEEE!"

So it went for the next 10 minutes and she just kept 
screaming.... and he kept whipping. He kept this first 
part of the whipping just on her ass. From the very 
top, to the very bottom of the sensitive underside. He 
alternated his strokes from side to side. 

First the right... 

Then the left... 

The entire surface of her butt was the deepest red, 
with fast forming purple swatches all over. He also 
made sure made the crop end landed on the side of her 
ass cheeks leaving welts from her hip on down and in 
between her cheeks almost right to her butt-ole. This 
was particularly painful in that sensitive area. It was 
a very long 10 minutes for her and she kept screaming 
even after he had stopped. Finally, he did though and 
after a few minutes she stopped and tried to regain 
control. Little did she know that he too was having 
trouble controlling himself and, in fact, had to stop 
himself fearing he was going too far. To actually cut 
her would NOT be good and he stopped, backed away a 
little to assess the damage. 

Also to regain a little control. 

She just lay there panting, finally catching her 
breath. The pain was unbelievable, but she also knew 
somehow that the worst was yet to come. She was right 
about that, of course, and after a 5 minute break he 
broke the silence by saying "Well Miss Wilkins, it 
looks like I'm finally getting through to you... 

Too bad it had to take the worst kind of beating to 
make that happen... Of course, we haven't gotten to the 
worst of it, yet..." 

She was still a little in shock from the severity of 
the whipping she had just received and came out with 
"Please...Please, Mister Jameson don't beat me any 
more... 

I'll be good... I promise I'll be good...Please nooo 
more..." "Now there, there my dear little Vicki. It 
will all be over after just two more whippings... so 
just lay there and relax while you can." Now he was 
surveying the damaged and was quite pleased with it so 
far. Now time to get on with the second part of the 
cropping. "Okay, Miss Wilkins, rest time is over. " 

"Now for the second part of your spanking I will be 
concentrating on the backs of your legs and inner 
thighs...I'll be moving from the right side of the 
table to the left after 5 minutes to give both sides an 
equal thrashing..." 

"NOOO!! Mister Jameson... You CAN'T!!"

"Oh, on the contrary, I can, and here we go..." 

With those words, he brought down the crop abruptly 
down THHHWWWAAACCCKKK! right on her right inner thigh. 
The end landed sharply about halfway between knee and 
crotch and he noticed how the tip made a deep 
indentation for a moment before rebounding back into 
place. He once again pulled the instrument back sharply 
instead of just letting it land-and-stay as he had at 
other times. It seemed to have the desired effect for 
she let out a blood curdling scream, "AAAAHHHHHHHEEE!"

The crop end left a wide, raised welt and dragging it 
back caused the welt to stretch out for maximum effect. 

THHHWWWAAACCCKKK! "AAAAHHHHHHHHHEE!!"

He was taking his time with this beating, not wanting 
to miss enjoying a single moment of it. He kept 
glancing up at her face as she was screaming and 
crying, her tears now flowing freely leaving a pool of 
them on the desk below. Mouth wide open with each 
stroke of the crop. 

THHHWWWAAACCCKKK! "AAAAHHHHHHHEEEE!!"

He was leaving a path of welts from mid-thigh to the 
very edge of her pubic region leaving only about a one 
inch strip from her outer labia unscathed. He continued 
beating her right thigh for the full 5 minutes as 
promised, up the back, then down the inner surface, up 
the back, then down the inner surface and so on, 
occasionally placing a hard blow on her already well-
beaten ass just to mix things up a bit. He also 
quickened his pace. 

THHHWWWAAACCCKKK!

THHHWWWAAACCCKKK! 

THHHWWWAAACCCKKK! 

Finally he stopped. 

She couldn't believe it. The back of the thigh wasn't 
so bad, I mean, it hurt, but it was bearable. The inner 
thigh was entirely another matter however. The pain was 
unbearable. She couldn't stop crying. 'It was too 
much', she was thinking to herself, 'Just too much.' 
Finally she regained some of her composure and started 
begging again..."Please M-ister Jameson... STOP! 
PLEASE!!" 

But Jameson wasn't giving her a real rest break. Just a 
few minutes to collect herself and so he could walk 
around to the other side to give the left thigh the 
same treatment as the right. 

He reached the other side and began without even an 
answer to her plea. Or maybe this WAS his answer... 

THHHWWWAAACCCKKK! "AAAAHHHHHHHHHEEEE!!"

He beat her left thigh with equal ferocity, starting 
once again about mid-thigh and slowly moving up to 
where thigh meets the pubic area. He left a series of 
evenly spaced welts and then went back to fill in the 
gaps. He was sparing her nothing, whipping the 
instrument down as hard as he could. He was being 
especially brutal to her inner thigh area knowing that 
it would hurt the most. Once again he quickened the 
pace. 

THHHWWWAAACCCKKK!

THHHWWWAAACCCKKK!

THHHWWWAAACCCKKK! 

So much so that he was able to get in three good 
strokes between each of her screams. So he kept on 
pouring it on. Again and again the wicked instrument 
landed on her unprotected and sensitive thigh. 

He looked up to notice that he only had a few moments 
left, so he turned his attention back to her backside 
and brought the shaft of the crop down fiercely across 
her ass-cheeks, as fast as he could. Perhaps 1 per 
second for the last 30 seconds raising a fresh set of 
welts on her already severely welted bottom. He 
stopped. He slowly walked back behind her to get a good 
view of her extremely well-beaten ass and thighs, not 
to mention her beautiful bare pussy. He just stood 
there watching. Her entire body, especially her butt, 
heaving up and down to the rhythm of her cries.

Vicki was once again fighting to gain control, but it 
was hard. Those last strokes were brutal and it felt 
like the shaft of the crop had cut her ass to ribbons!! 
Not to mention her left thigh, like the right before 
it, was burning like it was on fire. She cried -- and 
cried -- and cried some more. Finally she did, however 
get control of herself and she decided not to beg 
anymore. It just seemed to make him hit her harder and 
she could not even imagine being hit harder than this. 

Her backside reminded Jameson of a Relief Map of the US 
he had seen once. There were high ridged welts of 
various sizes that looked like mountains which were 
purplish in color. In between reddish valleys 
stretching from the top of her ass, to the mid-way 
point of her thighs. He almost laughed at the analogy, 
but thought better of it. She just might forget the 
pain to get angry and he didn't want to lose control of 
her that way. 

He then turned his attention back to that lovely pussy. 
The stark difference in colors was striking. From the 
purple welts bordered by a one inch or so strip of 
unmarked and really white flesh to the dull red color 
of her outer labia, to the various shades of pink of 
her inner vaginal area and clit. 'They wouldn't be 
staying those colors for long!' he thought to himself. 
Once again he marveled at her clit, standing firm and 
hard above the hood around it and knew now he had to 
touch it, at least long enough to see what her reaction 
would be. He could always stop if she started to 
object. 

Jameson had given the helpless girl a longer time to 
rest this time. He wanted her full attention for the 
next part of his plan. He was about to embark into 
uncharted territory. See, even he had never tried 
sexually touching one of his victims before and might 
not have now except for the persistent throbbing in his 
pants. He had so much hormones racing through his 
system that he couldn't help himself. Of course this 
didn't mean she was going to be spared the lash, quite 
the opposite, if all went well he would be able to whip 
that lovely cunt all he wanted. 

He cleared his throat loudly and stated "Well Vicki, 
it's time to start the final phase of your punishment. 
Because you seem to persist in finding enjoyment in 
this process, as evidenced by the little display you 
gave when I walked in, I have decided that it will be 
thorough and very painful whipping of your most 
sensitive spot... right between your legs!" 

The girl was startled by this announcement "NOOOOOOO!!" 
she shouted clearly "you CAN'T whip me THERE!!" She 
never consciously thought he was going to do THAT. She 
thought, if fact, that was skirting around that spot on 
purpose, knowing it would be too extreme a punishment 
to give. "NO WAY!!" She shouted again But of course her 
pleas where falling on deaf ears as he had already made 
up his mind. 

She continued to protest until he raised his large hand 
and brought it down hard on her ass: WHHHAAAPPP!! 

"OWWWWWWWWWW!! she exclaimed. 

At the same time he shouted, "SHUT UP!!

 She shut up, not wanting him to get any angrier with 
her. He, of course, wasn't angry at all and was really 
enjoying himself, but she had no way of knowing this. 

"I AM going to thrash your little cunt... but first, 
because of the really sensitive nature of that part of 
your body, I will cover the area that is to be whipped 
with a special cream I've mixed up." he continued "It 
will also give some measure of protection during the 
cropping" he lied "and also will put more on after I'm 
finished the whipping to help it heal properly. I'm 
going to give you some to take with you as well and I 
want you to use it twice a day until the welts have 
gone away... okay?" 

"NO!! NOOO!!" was her only response. She still could 
not believe she was about to get her cunt and more 
importantly, her CLIT whipped!! This isn't HAPPENING!! 
she kept saying to herself. I won't be able to even 
WALK if he does this!! She was crying again and he 
hadn't even touched her yet. She remembered just how 
spread apart her nether lips really were, how exposed 
and prominent her clitoris was and realized just how 
much it would hurt to have that horrible crop-thing 
smash into it!! 

He went and retrieved the 'Special Cream' he had talked 
about. It was a homemade mixture of a slightly thick, 
water based lubricant and several types of antibiotic 
ointments. The mixture was white in color and was quite 
slippery when applied. He had checked it to be sure it 
was just right so that, when applied, it would produce 
an immediate arousal affect on her. 

This was for two reasons. First; he wanted to se if he 
could get her sexually excited. Perhaps even make her 
cum. Second; he wanted that clitty as hard and 
sensitive as it could get when he started whipping it. 
He knew full well that the clit is most sensitive just 
after an orgasm and he wanted it at it's most sensitive 
state for the punishment phase of his plan. 

He had used a 'squirt' type container for the mix and 
pumped several times to place a generous amount on the 
tips of his fingers. He then reached down towards her 
vagina. The ointment was a little cold so when it 
touched her enlarged clit, she jumped. Her ass moved 
almost another 6 inches higher than it was before. He 
ignored this and started to rub the area with slow 
circles. 

When he first touched her clit, the cold startled her, 
but after just a few seconds his manipulations started 
produced the desired affect. She took in a sharp breath 
as two of his fingers expertly manipulated her now 
totally aroused clit. 'FUCK that feels GOOD!!' she said 
to herself. After the whipping of her ass and thighs, 
this was heavenly!! 

He continued to massage her now fully extended 
clitoris. Occasionally letting his fingers glide down 
the full length of her slit and probing, just slightly, 
inside that forbidden zone. 'That will come later.' he 
said to himself 'Hopefully' he added. 

It was unquestionably working. She was starting to move 
her ass up and down to the rhythm of his fingers. He 
just kept rubbing, stroking, caressing that beautiful 
clit and cunt until she was breathing fast and ragged. 
He knew it wouldn't be long before she came and he 
wanted her right on the edge before he stopped. 

She was in ecstasy. The pain temporarily buried under a 
sea of pure pleasure and she was building quickly to 
orgasm. Her head was moving side to side. Her hips 
thrashing all about. Then, all of a sudden, it stopped. 
His hand was gone. 

'NOOOOO!! DON'T STOP!!' she wanted to say, but she 
still was wrestling with her mixed feelings about 
letting this fucking pervert get her off. Right now 
though, nothing mattered except she was about to cum. 
She HAD to cum!! 

Jameson had timed it perfectly. He stopped just moments 
before her orgasm. He quickly picked up the riding crop 
and with the practiced aim of a marksman, brought the 
tip of the crop down directly on that jutting clit. 

SLAP!! his aim was perfect. He didn't hit it too hard, 
just hard enough to cause mild pain (compared to the 
pain he had inflicted earlier) and to hopefully finish 
her orgasm with the contact of leather to cunt. 

SLAP!! once again and then a series of very fast, 
medium hard strokes, 

SLAP!!

SLAP!!

SLAP!!

SLAP!!

SLAP!!

SLAP!!

SLAP!!

It was too much for her and that built-up orgasm just 
exploded out and through her like the breaking of a 
dam!! She CAME!! Harder and longer than she had ever 
cum in her life, but this wouldn't be true for long. At 
the point of this explosion, a rush of female juices 
came gushing out of her tight little cunt. She was lost 
inside it. She never wanted it to end. It lasted for 
several minutes and all the time he kept using that 
same methodical stroke. Not hard, not hard at all. Just 
enough to make her feel it. The sound of the crop 
changed when she gushed to a SLOP! as the end of the 
crop became wet from her juices. After about another 
minute or so her orgasm subsided and he stopped. 

'This isn't so bad' she thought to herself "hell, he 
can do this all he wants!!' 

What she didn't realize, of course, that this was all 
part of his master plan and it could not have been 
working more perfectly. He let her rest for a few 
moments more then "I hope you enjoyed that... since you 
are NOT going to enjoy what comes next." With those 
words, he raised his arm to resume the attack on her 
bare, unprotected cunt. Spread so wide, clit so damn 
hard, so perfect for whipping!! 

She didn't have time to ponder the words he had spoken. 
In fact she barely heard them since she was still in 
that wonderful post-orgasmic state and, in fact, was 
still wanting more. Still totally aroused. It didn't 
last. All of a sudden there were two noises. The first 
was that old, almost familiar: 

THHHHWWWWAAAAKKKK!! the next, she realized after, came 
from deep down inside her: AAAAHHHHHIIIIIIEEEEE!!" 

She almost didn't know she was screaming. All she knew 
was there was a blinding, searing, agonizing pain down 
there between her legs and suddenly she was aware that 
all the pain she had endured before this was nothing. 
Absolutely nothing compared to this. 

Jameson brought the weapon down hard. Aiming the very 
end of the now wet tip of the crop smashing into her 
exposed clitoris. He started to think of another 
analogy, 'Pretend her clit is a nail, the crop a hammer 
and drive it back into her body.' The tip of the crop 
found it's mark and could see, from only one stroke, 
the color change between the top of the clit and it's 
sides. It was already showing a small welt. It was 
perfect. The height of the desk was low (30") and he 
was tall (6"2") so the angle of attack was just 
perfect. He was standing on her left side, facing 
backwards (towards the mirror, which was why it was 
there!) and bending over slightly. In this way he could 
bring his arm down, snapping his wrist just before the 
moment of contact. The result: Perfect! 

He continued in earnest now fast and hard.

And the screams started and continued unabated.

He continued to whip her bare cunt without mercy. 
Covering the entire area he had neglected earlier, that 
narrow band of white at each side of her pubic mound, 
with an ever deepening shade of red. 

Now, to be sure, he was not whipping her cunt quite as 
hard as he had whipped her ass, but he WAS hitting it 
hard none the less. He wanted to leave welts, but not 
the deep kind he inflicted on her ass and thighs. She 
wasn't even crying, just screaming. Long, loud and 
continuous.... 

THHHHWWWWAAAAKKKK!!

Finally he glanced up at the clock and saw that 5 
minutes had passed. 'Time for a break' he said to 
himself. So after one more set of strokes aimed for the 
center of her already sore cunt, he stopped once again. 

Although he stopped, the screams continued. Turning 
finally into a flood of tears as she started to cry 
uncontrollably. 

She had no idea, in reality, of what being branded felt 
like, but she was sure it must have felt something like 
this. Her cunt was flame. The pain stretched up deep 
inside her and down both legs. 

"Five minute break Vicki. Then the last 5 minutes of 
punishment." he stated as flatly as he could. He was 
actually seething inside. A raw fiery buildup of sexual 
energy was quickly consuming him. She wasn't the only 
one who wanted to end this. 

He too could not wait much longer before he would be 
able to release the tidal flood of cum that had built 
up inside his balls. 

She could not get control. She was wracked in utter 
agony and the violent movements of her hips betrayed 
this fact. He just stared lustfully at her well-beaten 
cunt. Noticing the welt lines that covered her 
oversized clit. 

"NO MORE!! M-MISTER JAMESON... PLEASE NOOO MORE!!" 

she pleaded sincerely "ANYTHING, DO ANYTHING else but 
PLEASE DON'T WHIP MY PUSSY ANY MORE!!" 

He just stood there, watched her twitching about and 
thought about it for a few moments. Then he said 
emotionlessly "Anything? Anything at all?" 

"YES! YES! ANYTHING BUT MORE OF THAT!" 

"What if I wanted to turn you over, face up, and give 
you the last 5 minutes on your breasts?" 

"WHAT? YOU WANT TO W-WHIP M-MY BREASTS NOW TOO?!" 

"Well, Miss Wilkins, it's not so much a matter of what 
I want, but since you say you can't take any more on 
your pussy, I'm just giving you an alternative... and 
you have exactly one minute left of your rest period to 
make up your mind.... otherwise I'll just take your 
silence as a decline and continue my whipping between 
your legs!" She tried to think quickly. She knew what 
the whipping felt like on her bare pussy and didn't 
think anything could be as bad as that. So somewhat 
reluctantly she said "Okay, Mister Jameson, I'd rather 
be whipped ANYWHERE but down there anymore." 

He wasn't sure if he was pleased or not. It was 
actually a spur of the moment decision to make the 
offer and even though he wouldn't mind putting some 
welts on those lovely tits and nipples, still he wanted 
to whip her cunt some more. "All right now Miss 
Wilkins. No trying to get away as I loosen your 
bindings now, or it will go harder on you!" 

"I won't." she promised, but she wasn't sure if she 
would keep it or not. He started with her legs, untying 
them quickly. Next he moved up to un-do her arms. He 
helped her to turn over and started to re-tie her 
without incident until he decided to use 2 extra pieces 
of leather to tie her knees as far apart as he could 
(at least he could have a good view!) so now her ankles 
were tied almost 5 feet apart and her left knee was 
tied, pull back straight to the side. 

He then was tying her right knee in the same fashion 
when he accidentally brought his hand down on her 
bruised clit and she jumped, hands not secured yet as 
he had started with her feet and punched him. Not very 
hard, but it caught him right on the side of the jaw. 
She recoiled and apologized as soon as it happened, but 
the damage was done. 

He was pissed. REALLY PISSED. "THAT is going to cost 
you my dear Victoria!!" 

"All deals are OFF!! Now GET BACK DOWN on the table 
RIGHT NOW!!" 

She knew she was in serious trouble now, but she almost 
sensed something like relief showing on his face. As if 
he was glad it had happened. Now she was sure she 
should have let him finish the punishment on her cunt 
lying face down. He very quickly moved up to secure her 
arms and then returned to finish securing her right 
knee. She was now spread as far as a person could get. 
Her legs practically straight out from the hip to the 
knees giving him total access to her already damaged 
cunt once again. Her arms were tied tight and also 
stretched out so much that she could not move hardly at 
all from side to side. 'This was not good!' she said 
toherself and started to apologize again, but he cut 
her off with a curt " Tell it to someone who cares...." 
and "You ARE going to be sorry, that is for SURE!" 

He went and retrieved his prized Crop and continued, 
"For that assault you made on me, Your now going to get 
double the punishment you had left before.... First 
off, you get 5 minutes on your breasts, followed by 
another 5 minutes on your inner thighs and cunt!" 

She again renewed her apology and begged for 
forgiveness, but he just ignored her. 'Now to get those 
nipples hard...' he mused to himself. He decided to use 
his 'cream' on her tits, so he picked up the bottle and 
let a large drop fall directly on each of her nipples. 
Since the stuff was quite cool they immediately became 
quite hard. He spread it around her breasts pausing to 
pinch her nips at the same time, just to get them extra 
hard. Like her clit, he knew if those long nips were 
hard and erect, it would hurt MUCH more than if they 
weren't. Now she was ready! 

The worst part, next to the pain itself, was now she 
was going to be able to see the crop whipping her and 
she didn't have time to wait. He raised his arm and 
brought the end of the implement down as hard as he 
could right smack on her right nipple. 

She screamed! 

The first dozen or so hits landed on, or near her right 
nip. Instant welts were rising all over her tit. He 
then switched to the other side; on the left tit as 
well. He decided to cover both tits at the same time, 
rather than each separately as he had done with her 
thighs. Now back to the right; and the left.

Back and forth this continued... and she was screaming 
again! He was now TRULY glad for his inspired offer to 
take the last of it on her tits. Now not only was he to 
get this, but also another whipping on her delicious 
cunt as well!! His strokes were all out. He was going 
to beat those lovely tits to one huge welt!! Just 
another few more until the 5 minutes is up... the last 
of his strokes landing directly on each nipple, back 
and forth, back and forth... He was sure he had given 
her well over 200 strokes during that session and he 
was panting from the exertion when he stopped. He was 
panting, but she was still screaming...and crying. 

He told her that she would get a 5 minute break before 
the last whipping, but she didn't hear him. She 
couldn't believe that the whipping on her tits could 
hurt as much as the one on her cunt... she was WRONG!! 
Of course he had whipped her tits MUCH harder and 
faster than he had whipped her pussy, still it shocked 
and surprised her just how sensitive her nipples really 
were!! 

Especially since he aimed for those raised buds more 
often than not. It also occurred to her that the last 
few hits didn't hurt as much and she surmised that the 
area was becoming desensitized from all the whipping. 
So she tried, in vain, to get him to give her the rest 
on her breasts, trying to spare her cunt further pain, 
but he just ignored her and just continued to examine 
the damage. 

The welts on her tits were GREAT! He couldn't believe 
how HUGE and purple her nipples had become. He wanted 
to reach out and touch them, perhaps pinch them a 
little, but he figured to save that for later. No, she 
wasn't going to get up right after the whipping was 
over....not this time.... He said now simply "Rest 
period over." and was once again on the left side of 
the table... raised his arm... took aim... 
and...THHHHWWWWAAAAKKKK!! it came down right on the 
center of her cunt. 

"OOOOH GOD!" came the response. Five quick more strokes 
on the cunt... aiming at the center of her clit...then 
he switched to her right and left thighs, alternating 
between them... back and forth several times like that 
then back to her cunt... He spared her nothing this 
time, getting almost completely lost in the whipping he 
was giving to the totally helpless girl. He just 
couldn't help himself. The sound of the crop as it made 
its way to her battered body... and that sudden; 
THHHHHWWWWWAAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!! as it made contact and 
the blood curdling scream that came from her lips was 
just more than he could control with all the hormones 
racing through his body and the aching pressure in his 
nuts. 

This continued for the whole 5 minutes. First attack 
the cunt... then the thighs... then the cunt... then 
the thighs... all the time her body twitching and 
moving violently around as far as the restraints would 
allow. Finally at the end he finished by turning 
suddenly and giving her another 10 strokes on each 
nipple, then turning again to give the last 10 strokes, 
very hard strokes, directly on her clit. 

It ended. He walked over to another table, sat down and 
watched her, just stared at her. This continued for 
almost 10 minutes. 'MAN am I horny!!' he exclaimed to 
himself. 

Over the next 10 minutes Vicki slowly stopped crying 
out loud. Her sobs turned to heavy, deep breaths as she 
fought to gain control over the intense pain she felt 
and amazingly, the pain, or at least some of it, also 
slowly subsided. She became aware of her surroundings 
once again and also was aware that he was watching her. 
She even saw the look of lust on his face and started 
to get scared again. She tried to think of something to 
say, but decided against it, at least for now. 

Another 10 minutes slowly passed, but finally he got up 
and walked over to her. He broke the silence then by 
saying gently, almost lovingly, "I'm going to rub some 
lotion on your welts now... Okay?" 

She could only respond with a simple "Okay." 

He picked up the lotion bottle and let a few, large 
dollops land on her breasts. He then started to rub it 
in very gently. At first it hurt and she took in sharp 
breaths when it did. Each time this happened, he would 
stop for a moment, then continue. After a while it 
started to feel not bad. Not actually good mind you, 
but not bad. He occasionally added more lotion with his 
other hand and slowly, very slowly, after maybe 10 or 
more minutes, it did start to feel pretty good. 

Next were her thighs. He moved down to them working 
very slowly and carefully, first up one thigh, then 
down the other. He continued this until it too started 
to feel pretty good. She was still in pain mind you, 
especially on and around her clit (which was still very 
hard) but he wanted to have the pain gone from her 
breasts and thighs before attending to that spot. So he 
kept working on the inner thighs for a long time. After 
a while, she seemed almost to be enjoying his gentle 
stroking. 

Now it was time for her pussy. He put a large amount of 
cream on his fingers and with one slow, careful swipe, 
he spread it all the way up her slit, ending just above 
the clit. She let out a sharp breath and a small 
scream. Not anything like from the whipping, but quite 
audible none the less. Tears once again filled her eyes 
so he stopped for several minutes, until she calmed 
down again. He resumed his ministrations to her badly 
welted cunt. He couldn't believe how bruised and red 
her clit was. It looked to be more than twice its 
normal size. 

He gently caressed the entire pubic area, but kept 
returning to that huge clitoris. After more than 15 
minutes of this, he turned his full attention to that 
digit and after dropping another generous portion of 
cream on it, used 2 fingers from his left hand to 
gently spread her lips completely apart. Then he 
started to softly, slowly circle her clit with his 
middle finger. Around the outer edges, then over the 
top, around, then over. 

He repeated this for a very long time, with seemingly 
infinite patience and eventually she started to 
respond. He continued for another 10 minutes or so 
until she was really starting to respond. 

'DAMN!' she thought to herself 'That is actually 
starting to feel really good!!' She kept her eyes 
tightly shut, which was just fine with him, so as to 
not betray how good it was starting to feel. It wasn't 
working though. She couldn't stop herself from 
occasionally letting out a little sigh and the more it 
continued, the more animated she became. 

Her hips started to rise and fall to the rhythm just as 
they had done earlier, before the whipping on her cunt. 
She moved more and more and started to moan and sigh in 
earnest. That familiar feeling was starting to grow 
down deep inside her vagina and she knew, she couldn't 
believe it, but she knew that she was building to an 
orgasm. 

Jameson sensed all of this and his erection once again 
threatened to split his pants wide open. He was going 
to have to get relief soon... He now decided to move 
on. So the task of massaging her clit fell to his left 
index finger, after adding some more lotion, while 2 
fingers from his right hand descended to her vaginal 
opening. He placed them at the entrance and slowly 
pushed them in. 

She opened her eyes wide now, snapping her head back to 
center as she did. He noticed this, of course, but 
decided to keep his attention focused on her cunt. She 
was going to say something, then realized that she 
WANTED him to do this. She WANTED him to put his 
fingers deep inside her. She WANTED him to scratch that 
itch in there and give her release. 

"Little slut" she said out load. Very softly, but 
audibly as she again closed her eyes and turned away. 

He had heard this, of course, and smiled. He HAD 
her...He really, REALLY had her. Nothing would stop him 
now!! He moved his mouth down to replace his finger 
with his tongue and sucked her enlarged clitty into his 
mouth, flicking his tongue over the entire surface as 
he did. 

He pushed his totally wet fingers into her cunt and 
when they reached bottom, she let out a rather loud 
moan "OHHHHHHH!!" 

Now he started to move them in and out. At the same 
time continuing to massage her oversized clit with his 
wet tongue. She started to pant and moan "YESS!! 
YEESS!! OH FUCK YEEESSSSS!! YESSSSS!!" Then she came. 
Harder and longer than that first time. She fucked his 
fingers hard and fast. Moving her hips to the motion of 
his fingers that were buried inside her hot, wet cunt.

After almost 3 minutes of this, it subsided. He pulled 
his fingers from her cunt, but continued to lick and 
suck her clit. He wanted her to stay really horny. It 
worked. He could tell from her movements that she 
wasn't finished cumming yet. She was thinking the same 
thing, in fact, and now he could wait no more. 

Jameson removed his mouth from her clit and in about 3 
seconds flat had his pants down and off. His cock 
sprang free from his jockey's and she once again opened 
her eyes to see what was going on. She let out a loud 
gasp when she saw it. 

"IT'S HUGE!!" she exclaimed. 

Much to his delight. 'It WAS rather a nice size at 
that' he thought to himself and she just kept staring 
at it as he got on top of her. She watched as it's huge 
head was at the entrance to her cunt. She watched as he 
slowly, methodically plunged it into her depths. She 
could not believe the feeling of it. It filled her so 
completely that she was sure it would rip her apart, 
but after just a few thrusts, her vaginal muscles 
became adjusted to the size and it started to feel 
incredibly good!!

He started fuck her hard and slow. Thrusting his cock 
in and out, slamming his body into hers. Sometimes when 
he slammed into her clit, she had to cry out, but the 
pain it caused was mixing with the massive pleasure 
inside her and she was actually starting to enjoy the 
pain almost as much. In fact, she started to thrust 
herself up to meet him so that the contact would be 
that much harder, that much more painful. 

On and on they fucked. Liked wild, crazed animals. 
Finally the head of his cock grew and swelled to twice 
its regular size and he started to cum. She was also at 
the edge, although she had already cum many times and 
kept thrusting to meet him. He yelled out as he came, 
spewing what felt to both as a gallon of cum deep 
inside her. She responded with a hard orgasm of her own 
and after a few more minutes of gradually slower 
fucking... he stopped... collapsing on top of her.

***

Much later, after several more hours of intense sexual 
action (he had even taught her the basics of sucking 
cock) they were in his office relaxing after a nice hot 
shower in the men's locker room. They were talking 
about the night's activities and then he said "you 
know, I really am grateful to you... for more reasons 
than one..." 

"What do you mean by that?" she replied "I guess I mean 
that if it weren't for young ladies like you to keep me 
on my guard, I might get sloppy. If I get sloppy and 
things start walking out of here, I'd be out of a 
job!!" 

"Well," she answered with a bright smile. "We wouldn't 
want that to happen, now would we?" 

"I'll tell you what," she continued. "I'll keep trying 
and whenever I'm successful, you'll have to buy it for 
me. After all we wouldn't want to have stuff come up 
missing and risk you losing your job... would we?" 

He thought it over and came back with, also smiling, 
"OK, but if I catch you, you have submit to what ever 
punishment I decide to give and you know how hard I can 
punish." 

"Yes I do and YOU know how much I enjoy being punished, 
so I guess we could both win," she said widening her 
smile even more. "Well, this could be the start of a 
very interesting and arousing relationship." With that 
they continued to talk about the particulars of this 
'arrangement'.

THE END 

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 50