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Tuesday, 26 March 2019

Julie’s Comeuppance

From Blushes 81
Julie Malving thought she could get away with just about anything using her looks and feminine charm, always the ones you had to get round or persuade if you wanted something? Yes of course and basically all a girl had were her looks and femininity. Julie pitied those unfortunate members of her sex who weren’t blessed with good looks and a good figure.
Julie was doubly fortunate because in addition to being very good-looking she was blonde and everyone knew men were always that extra bit interested in a blonde. As well as this she also had a really lovely figure. Petite (Julie couldn’t claim to be tall) but perfectly formed: full bust and sensuously rounded hips accentuated by her slim waist; plus shapely and glamorous legs. And who wanted to be tall anyway; some girls did but Julie didn’t think men liked tall women. Tall girls weren’t feminine.
Julie could be very feminine, with coy flutterings of those long lashes on her big deep blue eyes. What man could resist their charming and seductive invitation? Surely no man could. But… an invitation to what? Were those big blue eyes actually promising anything? Was Julie prepared to deliver up that so delicious body— in exchange for whatever it was she wanted? The answer was no. Julie might promise but she did not want to produce. For one thing she was a happily married young woman, wasn’t she? Well more or less happy. Because Julie and Simon did have the occasional tiff — most frequently about what Simon considered Julie’s overly flirtatious behaviour at parties etc.
Julie brushed off those little tiffs. Simon was just being silly and jealous. Could she help it if men found her attractive? And if occasionally they might possibly get funny ideas, well Julie knew that all she had to do was flutter her eyes some more and they would get the right message. Which was that they were very lucky indeed to be with her and on the receiving end of her lovely smile and for them to think anything else, even for a moment, was really too much. And naturally they always quickly realised this.
Didn’t they? Well yes. Always. All of them until Mr Penfield.
----//----
Mr Penfield was one of the senior people at Hartlands, the accountants where Julie and Simon both worked. He was at the main London office but he had once or twice visited their Northwich branch where Julie worked as secretary to Mr Bingley and Simon was a very junior manager. Mr Penfield was sixtyish, a big man with almost white hair which gave him a very distinguished look. Last time Julie had very briefly met him when he came in to see Mr Bingley and she had of course fluttered those long lashes and probably also stuck her tits out at him (though naturally Julie would have denied that).
No doubt he had noticed the beautiful big blue eyes that first time and also the lovely tits in Julie’s demure lacy white blouse. Anyway the next time he came Mr Penfield made a point of coming into her little office to say hello. He was very chatty and Julie could guess right away that she had made another conquest and this time a very senior one. So the eyelashes were immediately fluttering furiously again — and the tits were also put on impressive display.
Yes Julie had made a conquest because before Mr Penfield went that afternoon he looked in again. Fortunately Julie was alone again — because this time Mr Penfield said discreetly that if Julie was ever in London she should give him a ring. He would like to take her out to lunch.
Julie replied that this would be very nice indeed. Naturally she didn’t tell Simon but it was Simon she had in mind. Simon’s career. As far as Julie could see, without some help Simon was likely to remain where he was for quite a while. Perhaps for ever! But Mr Penfield could clearly pull strings, get Simon on the promotion ladder. If she played her cards right.
And what did Mr Penfield want? No more than the pleasure of being seen with a very pretty young woman. Probably at his age he was in any case no longer interested in more basic matters — though of course you could get older men with ideas. But distinguished-looking Mr Penfield, Julie was sure, just wanted the pleasure of her company and that didn’t surprise her at all.
So a confidential date was agreed on a Saturday when Julie could tell Simon she was going shopping with a girl friend. It was really exciting — going out with this new and impressive admirer and also the prospect of getting something really good for Simon.
Mr Penfield took Julie to an expensive restaurant. Wasn’t this marvellous! With all those other people of course able to admire her in her smart outfit. Yes, really great. But then when they were waiting for their starters… Julie felt Mr Penfield’s hand slide onto her leg under the table. His hand on her soft and shapely thigh.
They were sitting side by side (Mr Penfield had no doubt arranged this) so his hand could not be seen by other diners — but that of course wasn’t the only consideration. With a sweet smile but a firm voice Julie said, ‘Please don’t do that, Mr Penfield.’ Under the table she firmly pushed the hand away.
Mr Penfield seemed not at all put out. He smiled: ‘You’re such a lovely girl, Julie, You’re just too much of a temptation.’
Well that was alright, wasn’t it? Julie was sure some men did find her just too attractive. She gave a charming smile back. Mr Penfield understood the situation now; she could be admired but that really was all.
No doubt if there had just been that lovely meal in the restaurant everything would have been OK. But Julie then agreed to go with Mr Penfield afterwards. To the flat which he said belonged to a friend. The trouble was she was still putting her case for Simon and during the meal Mr Penfield, the perfect gentleman again now, had seemed quite encouraging. So Julie had agreed. Just for a coffee and then she would have to get home. But she had had no qualms: Mr Penfield understood what was what and accepted it. Didn’t he? He would do docilely just what she wanted and no more.
But… it proved to be different. In the very beautiful lounge Mr Penfield said:
‘Yes, I have heard a bit about pretty Mrs Malving. She’s so charming and sweet — but never gives anything away. Isn’t that it? Such a lovely charming girl — but she won’t ever take her knickers off.’
That was a shock. That last bit. A real shock. Julie tried to smile but Mr Penfield was going on:
‘Well I reckon I know what a young lady like that needs, Julie. She needs what they call a short sharp shock. More specifically… she needs a taste of the cane. On that lovely bottom. With her knickers down of course.’
Could he really have said that? Unbelievably yes. Because Mr Penfield repeated it. Well then was it just a very awful joke? But Penfield wasn’t acting like he was joking. And he actually now had a cane in his hand!
It was quite unbelievable. Julie was impotently stuttering that really she had to go — while Mr Penfield was saying that he wanted her up on the chair. That big armchair. He wanted her kneeling up in it and then she had to pull her skirt up. He was going to cane her bottom.
‘Look… This is r…ridiculous… You can’t possibly…’
Mr Penfield brusquely said he could. Did she want to lose her job? And have her dear husband lose his as well? But on the other hand if Julie was sensible and did as she was told perhaps he might be able to do something for Simon.
What Mr Penfield was saying was blackmail. Yes, quite clearly. But what could she do? He could probably get them sacked, on some pretext or other. But… that cane…
‘Y… You can’t… really cane me…’ Julie said whimperingly.
Mr Penfield said yes he could. She certainly needed something of the sort with the way she always acted. Teasing and flirting and then, oh no, that was it. Not even allowing a friendly hand on her leg. Well, she had now done it once too often. Oh yes, Mr Penfield said, he was going to really enjoy caning her bottom.
He meant it and Julie could see she had no choice. She felt sick… but she was finally doing as instructed. Getting up on the big armchair. And then forcing herself to slide up her skirt.
She was wearing stockings and a suspender belt. Julie liked to wear stockings, they were so much more glamorous and sexy than tights. She had on white stockings with her white high-heeled courts, and a slim-strapped white suspender belt. With brief and tight white lacy knickers. She certainly hadn’t planned to show any of this to Mr Penfield — or of course to anyone else. But now Julie was having to pull her skirt right up round her waist and give Mr Penfield this intimate and dazzling display.
That in itself was really dreadful. Humiliating. But…
THWACK…!!
Aaaaiieeeehhh…!!’ The cane had cut crisply in across those lovely swelling nates. A mind-stopping stinging cut. The embarrassment of showing her knickers abruptly disappeared. There was only that awful pain.
THWACKK…!!
Aaaafyyyyaaaahhh…!!’ Another fiendish cut. This one landed partly across Julie’s hand which had automatically gone down to grab at her red-hot bum.
‘Keep your hands away,’ Mr Penfield ordered curtly. And then whipped the cane in again.
He gave her two more and then told Julie to take her knickers down. She was in something of a state of shock now.
That really dreadful pain in her poor bottom. It was killing her.
‘Come on! Get them down. Let’s have a look at that lovely bum. And that precious pussy too, eh?’
Julie was having to do it. Her hands which she seemed to have lost some control of awkwardly grabbing at the brief white knickers. Sliding them down.
There were bright red stripes across the pale moons of her bottom where the cane had landed. Mr Penfield’s hand was there. Fondling.
‘Now some more cane on the bare, eh,’ his voice said softly.
Julie gave a shuddering squeal. Mr Penfield chuckled… and his hand slid in between her legs. To take hold of her now bared pussy.
Julie’s breath spluttered out. Her viciously caned bottom was making her feel sick but now in addition there was Mr Penfield’s hand at her cunt. His large fingers slipping in between the outer lips to the wet and succulent interior of Julie’s sex.
‘And what about this, young lady. Eh? Always teasing that it’s available but then if anyone seems at all interested we become the prim and proper little housewife. Don’t we? Prim Mrs Malving who always keeps what she’s got between her legs for dear hubby.’
Julie let out a strangled cry. ‘Keep still,’ Mr Penfield rasped. He was pulling her knickers on down. Yanking them down over her knees to her ankles. Then spreading her knees apart. There was a pause. And then there was something up between Julie’s thighs again. Her thighs that were now parted. And the something this time wasn’t Mr Penfield’s hand. Julie cried out again, as she realised what it was. It was Mr Penfield’s stiff prick. Sliding in between the open lips of her pussy.
----//----
That wasn’t going to be all. That unbelievable Saturday that seemed more like a nightmare than reality, it wasn’t going to be the end of it. Because Mr Penfield before he let her go said he had so enjoyed her visit that Julie just had to come again. Yes he had so enjoyed it and also of course it had been so good for her, it was exactly what Julie needed. Julie tried to say that she couldn’t, wouldn’t, come again. Mr Penfield simply repeated those earlier threats. About her and Simon’s jobs.
‘The next time,’ he told her, ‘I think I’d like to take a few photos. Artistic shots. If you know what I mean.
She had hardly been able to face going home afterwards, the thought of facing Simon after what had happened. After that mind-searing caning and then of course the other. Mr Penfield screwing her as she knelt in the armchair. Screwing her from behind as she knelt with her knees spread. How could she possibly face Simon after that? He was bound to know. It would be written all over her face.
But somehow Julie did face Simon. And somehow he failed to see any tell-tale signs of what had happened on her face. But… she had to go to Mr Penfield again. Next Saturday. ‘That should be convenient, shouldn’t it?’ he had said.
----//----
Photos. Artistic shots. What did that mean?
‘Have a drink,’ Mr Penfield said. Julie shook her head, then changed her mind and said yes. She was going to need something. Here she was in that flat again. There had been no expensive restaurant meal this time, the appointment had been to come straight here. But then she didn’t want a meal, didn’t want to be seen in any expensive restaurant with Mr Penfield. She didn’t want any of this nightmare.
Julie had been thinking of nothing else all week of course. The unbelievable events of last Saturday and now this Saturday. She was supposed to be shopping with her friend Claire again — but what if Simon rang her up? Two weeks in a row! He was bound to wonder. But here she was…
‘Yes what I thought was that this time I’d like you in a little outfit, Julie. For me to take some nice pictures. Only for my own delectation of course. Tell me, do you play the piano?’
Julie shook her head. What did a little outfit mean? And pictures. If he took pictures he could show them to someone else. He would even if he said he wasn’t going to. Or someone could get hold of them. Julie shook her head again.
‘I d…don’t want any pictures.’
Mr Penfield grinned. ‘Of course you do, Julie. A lovely girl like you, I’m sure there’s nothing you like more than having pictures taken. And it’s going to need to have some more of the cane. Afterwards.’
Mr Penfield showed her, in the other room with the piano. It was really awful what he wanted. Really sickening, and humiliating. He had specified that she was to wear stockings and a suspender belt plus a pair of brief and sexy knickers again today. Now Mr Penfield said she was to strip down to just these items. She then had to put on a pair of long black net evening gloves… and this awful dicky front. One of those awful pretend-shirt things complete with black bow tie. That was to be her outfit for Mr Penfield’s photos.
Julie weakly shook her head. It was too much. Too awful. Being photographed like that. She could imagine other people at the office seeing them. Or Simon. No! Mr Penfield couldn’t make her do it.
But of course he could. ‘Get moving!’ he rasped. ‘Or I’ll cane that arse right away. So hard you’ll think it’s been cut in two!’
No there was no choice. It was another nightmare. Just like last Saturday. But worse than last week because now she was in this really sickening outfit. For Mr Penfield to take his photos. Plus there was still the caning. He had that cane out and when he wasn’t clicking his camera Mr Penfield was whipping in the cane. And of course there was the other too. When he had had enough of caning and getting his pictures. The other. Screwing her.
----//----
Mr Penfield had said he wouldn’t show the pictures to anyone. He had promised that. But a week later Mr Grantley said he would like to see Julie. Mr Grantley was a manager at the office who had been very interested some months earlier. Julie had been coy and charming as usual but then when Mr Grantley thought he might be getting somewhere he had got the cool brush-off.
Now he wanted to see her… and in his office he showed Julie. One of Mr Penfield’s pictures.
Grinning Mr Grantley said ‘How about lunchtime? We can go out in my car. I’ll pick you up in town so we won’t be seen. How about…’
In his car Mr Grantley said, ‘Have you shown any of them to your husband? I’m sure he’d love to see them. You look so lovely.’
Parked out in a lovers-lane place he made Julie suck him. Unzipping his trousers and pulling out his cock. Making Julie take it in her mouth.
She had no choice of course. Not with that photograph. And the question was, as she sucked Mr Grantley’s erect cock, how many others were there going to be? Other men at the office who would get a picture. And perhaps then finally… Simon.

4 comments:

  1. terrific little story. Great stuff.

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  2. The girl in the photos is sexily Eighties, whereas my private nickname for her spanker (who I think appeared only a couple of times in the Blushes stable) is 'Big Daddy', after the popular wrestler of that name seen regularly on ITV's 1970s 'World of Sport'.

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  3. Yes, I too was put in mind of Big Daddy. I'd hardly say he has "a very distinguished look" though. More of a working class bruiser type. A rent collector or loan shark perhaps with some unorthodox methods of dealing with young ladies' arrears.

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  4. More ITV than BBC, more World of Sport than Grandstand, he's the type, I agree, who in those roles would take a rough and ready, bruising interest in cracking down on young ladies' ar/rears.

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