market I’d never been able to get over my love for shameful erotic situations, and the slightest mention of spanking still made my tummy flutter, while the thought of the cane terrified me. As PA to the boss of an old, established and traditional company I’d had to keep my feelings to myself, aside from a few glorious moments of self-indulgence with boyfriends and with my colleague, Stacey Atkinson.
Stacey was a carefully guarded secret because for all that the company paid lip service to tolerance and equality we both knew full well that a lesbian affair would hurt our careers, while even a hint of anything kinky was likely to bring them to an abrupt halt. We both knew the risks, but I needed my fix of punishment and humiliation just as she needed hers for sex with another woman, which made us an ideal match. Otherwise I’d kept a strict rule of never accepting a proposition from anybody within the company or associated with the company. It was a shame, because I’d had several tempting offers, but I knew what would happen if I accepted. If the night was a success I’d let myself go, demanding the satisfaction of my deeper needs, including having my bottom smacked. Boys will be boys, and they do like to boast, so it was sure to be all over the office within a few days, with disastrous consequences.
When I was put up for a management training course in the West Country I was delighted to find that Stacey would be there too, but I was less happy to discover that three of our male colleagues were also going. There was Alastair Renton, a busy young man who looked as if he ought to have been a Spitfire pilot and was plainly fast-tracked for the top; Daniel Chambers, pushier still and even better looking, with a bad reputation to match, but just not as good, and Paul Yates, a great bear of a man said to be brilliant on computers but with a reputation as the office clown. The course was all about leadership and involved a lot of running around in the countryside, while every second word in the brochure we’d been given seemed to be ‘team’, but I still hoped to find the occasional private moment with Stacey during what looked like being a highly physical and challenging couple of weeks.
The great thing about having a clandestine relationship with another woman is that you can get away with far more than an ordinary couple could, or even two men. When Stacey and I said we’d forego our places in the minibus and take the train down the day before my boss made a comment about sticking with the team, but that was all. Nor did the staff at The Plough, a remote country pub where we’d chosen to stay the night, show any surprise when we booked a double room. We were in a tiny village more than five miles from Camp Aspiration, where the course was happening, and as we unloaded our bags I was looking forward to a delightfully naughty afternoon.
Our room was tucked in under the eaves at the top of the building, with a single, small window looking out over the beer garden and across the woods and fields of the Exe Valley, with the loom of Dartmoor beyond. Just to breathe the air was a pleasure, after being stuck in London all winter, while I couldn’t help but feel carefree, even irresponsible. We hadn’t quite had the nerve to ask for a double bed, but both the ones we’d been given were big enough for two, at least while we were up to no good. I bounced down on the one nearest the window and lay back, my arms and legs spread out in a star.
‘This should be a lot of fun, being with you anyway. I expect the course will be pretty silly.’
Stacey turned from where she’d been investigating the bathroom.
‘Why silly?’
‘Oh, you know, all this team business and outdoor stuff, when management’s really all about who you know and how you look and that sort of thing. Do you think Mr Scott would have chosen me as his PA if I’d been short and dumpy with a thick Birmingham accent?’
‘No, probably not, but going on the course will look good on our CVs.’
‘Oh, I know that, but I don’t expect it to be of any real practical value. It’s just boys’ games, really, you know, an excuse to show off a bit of machismo.’
‘You are going to try, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, of course, if only to show Daniel and Alastair up, but don’t expect me to volunteer for anything that involves getting unnecessarily wet or muddy. The boys can do it while we look on in admiration, staying nice and clean and dry.’
She laughed.
‘You know your trouble, Lucy. You’ve had it too easy. I bet you were daddy’s little princess, weren’t you?’
‘I was at public school, most of the time, and it wasn’t easy at all.’
‘Oh, you poor baby! Weren’t the servants sufficiently respectful? Was the caviar not of the best quality?’
It was my turn to laugh, remembering what it had really been like, but her mocking tone had got to me and I couldn’t resist answering her back.
‘We didn’t get caviar, but the servants were mostly girls like you, only they knew their place.’
I knew what was going to happen and was already snatching for a pillow as she scrambled across the other bed to get at me. My blow caught her full across the side of her face and from that moment I was in serious trouble. She called me a bitch as she pulled back to grab one of the pillows from the other bed, which left her in a crawling position for one perfect moment, with the seat of her tight blue jeans a perfect target. I brought my pillow home with every ounce of my strength, full across her bottom, a small victory but a very satisfying one. It was also my last.
She was on me in an instant, twisting around to bring her pillow down on my head, and once again before she stood up, towering above me as she rained down blows. I tried to defend myself, smacking my pillow at her legs and hips, but she was bigger and stronger. She also wanted to win, while my will to resist was fading with every smack of her pillow on my body. I soon rolled back, my efforts to hit her ever more pathetic as she laid in, hard and accurate, until I lost my pillow and curled up, my hands covering my face, my bottom on offer as a target. She took full advantage of my surrender, pummelling me with the pillow as I begged for mercy, although that was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t get it either, smack after smack applied to my back and legs and arms, but with ever more attention to my bottom, until at last she threw her pillow aside, twisted one of my arms into the small of my back and began to use her hand instead, talking to me as she gave hard, purposeful slaps to the seat of my jeans.
‘Girls like me, were they, Lucy? Girls who knew their place? I bet they did, and I bet they knew yours too, miss high-and-mighty, hoity-toity public school girl, swanning around like the stuck-up little bitch you are. Giving out orders and having them run around after you all day, was it? Yeah, sure, that’s really you. More like over their knees with your panties pulled down and your bottom bare for a good spanking, which is exactly what you’re about to get!’
‘No! Please, Stacey, not that. Don’t spank me, please!’
She just laughed at me, enjoying my discomfort as I began to squirm in her grip but knowing full well that the only way to really punish me would be to stop. That wasn’t going to happen, because whatever my reaction, she was going to thoroughly enjoy taking her feelings out on my bottom. Her sense of social inferiority was very real, which meant it was going to hurt, and that she’d do her best to humiliate me as well. Sure enough, the spanking stopped and her hand burrowed in to tug at the button of my jeans as she spoke once more.
‘Right, you little snob, let’s have these trousers down and see how superior you look with your knickers on show. Get your legs down, now!’
A hard slap to my thighs and I’d done as I was told, uncurling to let her get at my jeans, which had quickly been pulled down around my thighs to leave the pretty pink silk panties I’d chosen that morning on display.
