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Sunday, 15 September 2019

Disciplinary Action

From Janus 130
The black inked message on the white tiled wall of the ladies staff toilet expressed the sentiments of practically every member of staff at the Willow Crown Hotel. Since taking over as Duty Manager, Beverly Sayle had earned the contempt of staff and management alike. She revelled in her role as the flame-haired vixen from hell. As her father owned the hotel, she strutted with an unrestrained arrogance, knowing not even the General Manager would dare get in her way.
‘Bev the Bitch is a slut,’ she rasped through clenched teeth. ‘Well, they’re about to discover that this bitch bites.’
Throughout the day, every female member of staff on duty was individually summoned to her office, handed a notebook and pen and instructed to write down exactly what Bev had found on the wall. By six o’clock that evening, she was smiling. She had found her culprit. The girl had made an effort to disguise her handwriting, but to no avail.
Guilt was written all over the face of the senior Receptionist, as she returned to her superior’s office. Bev lit a cigarette, as she coldly appraised the dark blue uniformed girl standing uncomfortably before her desk. She was going to enjoy this immensely.
‘So Amanda,’ she finally began, placing the Receptionist’s handwritten slip on the desk before her. ‘You think I’m a bitch and a slut, do you?’
The plump girl blushed to the roots of her short blonde hair. ‘You told me to write that, Miss Sayle.’
‘Don’t mess me about,’ Bev snapped. ‘You know damn well what I mean. I’m giving you one chance to confess and you would be well advised not to lie. Did you scrawl that filth about me on the toilet wall?’ Amanda seemed close to tears, as she gazed at her feet.
‘Yes, Miss Sayle,’ she answered quietly.
‘How pathetic!’ Bev sneered. ‘You’re twenty-four years old, have worked here for five years and you can only express yourself through a childish scribble on a toilet wall.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whimpered.
‘You will be,’ the red-haired woman promised, crushing out her cigarette. ‘If you or any other member of staff have something to say to me, you will do so to my face. I will not tolerate juvenile vandalism. The best way to make an example of you would be to dismiss you.’
‘Fire me!’ Amanda cried. ‘For a silly piece of graffiti!’
‘For defacing hotel property,’ Bev corrected, rising to her high heels. ‘You see, I really am a bitch. A platinum queen of the breed, in fact.’
‘Please, Miss Sayle, give me another chance,’ the Receptionist pleaded. ‘I need this job and I love working here. I won’t put a foot wrong again, I swear.’
‘Of that you can be certain,’ Bev replied. ‘However, there may be an alternative. What would you be prepared to do to retain your position?’
‘Anything,’ Amanda fervently replied, hope widened her blue eyes.
Bev smiled. ‘That’s what I was hoping you would say. If you wish to remain in this hotel, there are two conditions, neither of which are negotiable.’
‘Name them,’ Amanda responded.
‘Very well. First, you will accept the punishment I deem appropriate. The second condition can wait until afterwards.’
While an abjectly relieved Amanda thanked her and swore to accept any conditions whatsoever, Bev locked the door of her office. She then returned to her desk, opened a drawer and produced a long, thin cane. Amanda uttered a startled cry.
‘Take off your skirt and bend over my desk,’ she commanded.
‘Surely you’re not going to…!’ Amanda was too stunned to complete the sentence.
‘Yes, I am going to cane you,’ Bev confirmed impatiently. ‘There’s a lot to be said for old-fashioned discipline. If you’d rather not be caned, of course, there is another option.’
‘The Job Centre.’
Amanda momentarily hesitated, while the older woman rapped her cane on the desk. Then, blushing all over again, she unzipped her skirt and let it slide down over her pale-stockinged legs. Before bending over the desk, she cast Bev an imploring glance. But there was no pity in the dark green eyes behind her wide rimmed spectacles.
‘Stick out your bottom,’ she rasped. ‘Further! That’s it. My, don’t you have a fat arse. Too much time spent sitting on it, I shouldn’t wonder. You won’t find sitting quite so pleasurable by the time I’ve finished with you.’
Amanda gritted her teeth. Bev was taking her time, savouring her torment to the full. She heard the swish of the cane, then felt the breathtaking sting, as it cracked loudly across her ample buttocks. Her sensible white cotton knickers absorbed some of the bite. Bev struck her twice more, with all the ferocity she could muster, then abruptly dropped the cane.
‘This is no good,’ she tutted, tugging at the waistband of Amanda’s knickers. ‘You must be caned properly. A fat arse like yours should be able to withstand two dozen of the best, without protection.’
Amanda choked back a protest, as her knickers were tugged down to her knees. The humiliating way she was now exposed to her superior was worse than any caning. Three livid pink stripes were already printed on her milky cheeks. Bev drew back the cane and delivered a stroke that cracked like a pistol shot across her quivering buns. She leaped upright, with a loud shriek. Bev found the scarlet stripe that blossomed on her backside much more satisfying.
‘Changed your mind?’ she sneered, slicing the air with her cane.
‘No… ow!’ the receptionist yelped, leaping as the lash stung the backs of her thighs.
‘Then I suggest you bend over and remain in that position until I’m finished with you,’ Bev said sternly.
With considerable reluctance, Amanda once more presented her bottom. Bev wielded the cane with searing precision, no two strokes falling on exactly the same spot. A resounding two dozen later, Amanda’s buttocks and thighs were streaked a fiery shade of lipstick red. Bev licked her lips, as she surveyed her handiwork. The girl had a most appealing bottom and it was hot to the touch of her fingertips. She was tempted to stroke her more intimately, certain she would offer no resistance, but she restrained herself.
Amanda’s face was as red as her nether cheeks, as she pulled up her knickers and put her skirt back on. Though Bev had touched her only briefly, the sensation of her fingertips on her burning buttocks remained. In the immediate afterglow of the caning, she was horrified to realise she had almost enjoyed it.
‘Now for my second condition,’ Bev announced, replacing the cane in her drawer. ‘You are not the only member of staff here who considers me a bitch. From now on, you will be my eyes and ears on the shop floor, as it were. At the end of each day, you will report all those who talk about me behind my back.’
Amanda was aghast. ‘You want me to be a spy!’
‘Exactly. It should come naturally to someone who expresses their feelings on a toilet wall.’ Amanda was about to protest, but wisdom prevailed. After all, her job was on the line and she had promised Bev she would do anything to keep it.
As soon as she had left the office, the Manager smiled. The caning had been a real turn-on, and not just for herself, she suspected. She looked forward to disciplining some of the other gossiping girls in a similar fashion.
Amanda proved herself to be an exemplary spy. In one week, Bev had compiled a long list of names and details of their offences against her. Not all could be punished in her favoured manner, of course. Those who couldn’t would be disciplined in a more orthodox manner. Having carefully studied her list, Bev selected her next candidate for the cane.
Debbie was a diminutive, cocky twenty-one-year-old chambermaid, whose name appeared on Bev’s list no less than twelve times in that one week. She seemed to be on a mission to badmouth the Duty Manager at every opportunity. Bev was determined to put a stop to that. At the end of her Saturday afternoon shift, the girl was summoned to her office.
‘What’s up?’ she demanded.
‘I don’t recall inviting you to sit,’ Bev snapped, locking the door.
The girl leaped up again, as though the chair were on fire.
‘I gather you don’t like me very much,’ Bev said, walking back to her desk.
 ‘Who told you that?’ Debbie responded.
‘You made some obscene jokes about me in the staff canteen,’ she continued.
Bev slapped her desk so hard it shook. ‘You heard me, girl. Regular little comedienne, aren’t you?’
‘I never said anything about you,’ Debbie protested, the last of her bravado evaporating.
Bev sighed. ‘I’m not going to waste my time arguing with you. I had intended to let you off with an appropriate punishment, but as you don’t intend to own up to what I know you’ve been saying about me, I have no alternative but to dismiss you.’
‘Dismiss me!’ she cried. But I never… Okay, maybe I cracked a few silly jokes. But I didn’t mean any harm.’
‘I don’t care what you meant,’ Bev replied. ‘I will not tolerate members of staff gossiping behind my back. I’ll give you one more chance. Discipline or dismissal?’
‘What kind of discipline?’ Debbie asked warily. Bev opened the drawer and whacked the desk with her cane, sending a sheaf of papers fluttering to the floor. ‘This kind.’
Debbie started to laugh, then realised she was serious.
‘You want to cane me!’ she gasped.
‘No, I want to cane my bloody self,’ Bev retorted. ‘Don’t waste any more of my time. Either lift up your skirt or pick up your P45. The choice is yours.’
While the girl agonised, Bev smacked the cane against her own right leg. Finally, Debbie took a deep breath and slowly pulled the pink skirt of her uniform up around her waist. What the hell? she thought. A few whacks across the arse can’t hurt that much. Might even be fun.
Bev stood behind her, moistening her pink glossed lips, as she sized up her bottom. Neither as well padded nor mouth-watering a rear as that of the overripe Amanda. Perhaps more suited to a spanking than a caning. She put down the cane, hooked both thumbs in the waistband of the girl’s flesh-toned tights and tugged both them and her lacy black panties down to her ankles.
‘I see you shave,’ she said, stealing a peek at her depilated sex. ‘Does your boyfriend prefer it that way?’
‘I prefer it,’ Debbie answered, feeling a pleasant tingling between her parted thighs.
‘So do I,’ Bev whispered, straightening up and drawing back her right hand.
The first slap was much harder than Debbie had anticipated and she uttered a small cry. Bev’s palm print blossomed to a warm shade of pink on her left cheek. She struck her again on the opposite side and followed on with a further ten slaps to either firm bun, leaving both glowing nicely.
‘Next time, it’ll be the cane,’ she warned, as the trembling girl pulled up her underwear.
She did not have to caution her to tell nobody about the punishment. Even if she had somewhat enjoyed it, a spanking was not something even the loose tongued chambermaid was likely to boast about.
Amanda’s spying proved even more fruitful than Bev had dared imagine. Of the eleven female staff members summoned to her office in the first three weeks, all opted for a caning or spanking, rather than instant dismissal. The offences were all similar. Bev even kept a record of the things said about her in a notebook. Debbie was the only one she had had to punish more than once.
Inevitably, Amanda’s colleagues soon figured out that she was the spy. Her daily visits to Bev’s office did not go unnoticed. Every girl who had been disciplined kept it secret, until one afternoon in the staff canteen.
Debbie was joined at her table by Louise, an attractive young waitress who had been working less than two months in the hotel. The blonde winced, the instant her bottom touched the seat.
‘What’s wrong?’ Debbie demanded.
‘Uh, nothing,’ she stammered. ‘Why?’
‘You look uncomfortable, that’s all.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Louise replied. ‘Oh God, there’s that arse-kissing bitch. If she sits down here, I swear I’ll throw my coffee over her.’
Debbie looked around. ‘You mean Amanda?’
‘Who else?’
‘What’s she done?’
‘Don’t tell me you’re that stupid,’ the waitress quietly replied. Amanda’s a proper little teacher’s pet. She reports everything we say about Bev the Bitch straight back to her.’
‘She squealed on you?’ Debbie whispered. Louise nodded. ‘She overheard me calling her beloved mistress a fuhrer dyke, with shit for brains. I’ve just come back from her office.’
‘What happened?’
‘I’d rather not talk about it. I just want to get my hands on that bloody Amanda.’
‘She punished you, didn’t she?’ Debbie said excitedly.
‘Forget it,’ Louise retorted.
‘What did she do?’ Debbie persisted. ‘Did she spank you?’
‘You’ve been disciplined too!’ Louise exclaimed.
‘Twice,’ Debbie answered. ‘What did she do to you? I won’t tell anyone, I promise.’
The waitress looked around, then leaned forward and spoke in a barely audible whisper. ‘You’d better not. The reason I can hardly sit down is because my bum feels like it’s been boiled in oil. I was given a choice, the sack or the cane. Twenty-six whacks of the bloody thing! She counted them out loud. She was really getting off on it.’
‘She’s a kinky cow,’ said Debbie. ‘You must be in agony. Did she make you take your knickers down?’
‘What do you think?’ Louise replied. ‘What did she do to you?’
‘I got off with a spanking the first time. Last Wednesday evening, she spanked and caned me. My arse is still sore. Do you think she canes Amanda?’
Louise snorted derisively. ‘I think she does a lot of things with her pet. Look at her, sitting there like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Listening for any tales to take back to Bev. We can’t let her get away with this.’
‘She won’t,’ Debbie vowed. ‘Listen, I have an idea.’
At the end of her afternoon shift, Amanda proceeded to Bev’s office, to make her daily report. The Manager was perched on the edge of her desk, flexing her cane with both hands. Her legs were crossed and the front split of her black skirt left an expanse of pale stockinged thigh on display. Amanda was taken aback. She had never seen her superior look so alluring.
‘Lock the door,’ she commanded, ‘Who are you stabbing in the back today?’
Amanda hated that way she spoke to her, as if she were the lowest form of life in the hotel. She was only doing what she was told.
‘Miriam, the new receptionist, said something horrible about you today,’ she replied, securing the lock on the office door with trembling fingers.
‘What was it?’ Bev demanded.
‘She said you were a frigid, frustrated cow.’
‘That’s not very polite,’ the manager tutted. ‘It’s time I had a chat with young Miriam. You really enjoy this, don’t you, Amanda?’
Bev studied her intensely, through her thick spectacles. ‘You know what I mean. You love being a spy, crawling back to me with your little stories. I bet you get a real thrill from thinking about all those naughty girls having their bottoms caned by me. It turns you on, doesn’t it?’
‘No,’ she protested.
‘You’re a hopeless liar,’ Bev snapped. ‘But a liar nevertheless. I had hoped you might be a little less coy, now that we understand one another. Get down on all fours and crawl over here. Come on, there’s a good doggy. Turn around. Don’t look at me.’
‘Are you going to cane me?’ Amanda asked huskily.
‘Shut up,’ Bev snarled. ‘I ask the questions around here.’
Amanda shuddered. Her mistress always addressed her in the sternest of tones, but there was something new in her voice. A kind of sensual aggression that was as exciting as it was frightening.
Bev hooked her cane in the hem of her skirt and drew it slowly up along her thighs, revealing inch after inch of smooth, tan-stockinged flesh. Amanda was wearing holdups and lacy pink knickers that had ridden up into the cleft of her buttocks, leaving the soft, pale globes three-quarters bare. Bev caressed one with the tip of her cane, the other with the pointed toe of her right shoe.
‘How should I reward you for your excellent work on my behalf?’ she mused, her toe moving down between Amanda’s parted thighs.
‘Let me watch you spanking Miriam,’ she panted. ‘Ohhhh… that feels good!’
Bev’s toe was nuzzling the mound of her pussy through the gusset of her knickers.
‘I can imagine how you would enjoy that,’ she purred, working her toe back and forth. ‘However, I’m a very selfish woman, Amanda. I punish for my own pleasure, not yours.’
Amanda’s soft moans of pleasure, in response to the friction of Bev’s pointed toe against her aching sex, drowned out the swish of the cane. Her moan turned to a shriek of pained surprise, as the lash exploded across her bottom. A straight line across the centre of her quivering cheeks deepened to the same shade of pink as the lace of her knickers.
Bev continued to masturbate her with her foot, as she brought the cane cracking down repeatedly, applying each stroke with such expertise that the deep pink furrows could have been lipsticked onto Amanda’s buttocks, from the frilled edges of her knickers down to the tops of her stockings. Eighteen strokes into the caning, she was writhing on the floor, in a shameless display of unspeakable pleasure. She would climax at any moment. The unmistakable electric heat suffused her loins, with an intensity she had never before known.
As though sensing her moment of blissful release, Bev cruelly withdrew her foot and ordered her to get up. Amanda could scarcely stand and was shaded scarlet from brow to bottom.
‘Off you go,’ Bev snapped, swishing the cane across her thighs, as her skirt fell back into place. ‘You surely didn’t think I was going to pleasure you like a lover?’
Amanda was shaking, as she left the office. Though her bottom ached unbearably, the pain was nothing compared to the humiliation of being so casually aroused, to the point of no return, then dismissed.
She was halfway down the corridor to the changing room, when her arm was grabbed from behind. ‘You were a long time in there,’ Debbie hissed. ‘Must have had a lot of tales to tell.’
‘Let go of me!’ Amanda cried, struggling to wrench her arm free.
‘Who did you squeal on today?’ she demanded. ‘Me again? What does that bitch give you for being her spy? Oops, I shouldn’t have called her that, should I?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ the receptionist protested. ‘If you don’t let go, I’ll…’
‘Run to Bev?’ Debbie finished. ‘Go ahead. But you’re not the only spy around here. Do you think she trusts you so much she wouldn’t have somebody keeping an eye on you? Think about it, Amanda. You’re just part of her game. Somebody’s been running back to her with stories about you. Just little things so far, but she’s keeping a list. Can you imagine what would happen to you if this other spy made up a really juicy story for Miss Sayle? I don’t think she’d be too pleased to hear that you’ve been putting it about that she’s being screwed by Albert Waver.’
‘I never said that,’ Amanda protested.
Debbie grinned. ‘So what? She’s going to believe you did. And that’s all that matters. And that’s just the beginning. Wait until the stories about you and Bev start circulating. Everyone knows you’re her spy. When word gets around that you’re her lover too, she’ll have to sack you, to save herself embarrassment. After all, this is her daddy’s hotel. It wouldn’t do for him to hear rumours about you and her.’
‘You’re her spy?’ Amanda whimpered, tears of rage and humiliation welling in her eyes.
Debbie shrugged. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. The point is, you’d better be at the first floor linen store in ten minutes, unless you want things to turn really nasty around here.’
Amanda cursed her own stupidity, as she made her way to the fourth floor. Now that she thought about it, why shouldn’t Bev be keeping tabs on her? It was her style to trust nobody. Having dared believe she might be something special to her boss, even if that something was only a slave, Amanda was now feeling supremely foolish.
Louise and Debbie were waiting in the linen store. The rooms on the fourth floor were out of service, due to renovations, so they were unlikely to be disturbed. Amanda had changed out of her uniform and into an ankle-length black skirt and denim shirt. The two other girls were in jeans and tee shirts.
‘Hi spy,’ Louise grinned.
‘What are you two playing at?’ Amanda demanded nervously.
‘It’s called revenge,’ Debbie replied. ‘We tossed a coin and Louise won.’
‘So I go first,’ the waitress finished. ‘Debbie, you keep an eye on the door. Right, fat arse, I haven’t been able to sit down properly all day because of you, so now it’s your turn for a red arse.’
As she spoke, she unbuckled her thick brown leather belt. Amanda slunk back towards the door, but her escape route was barred by Debbie.
‘You’re going nowhere until we’ve both punished you,’ she declared. ‘Unless.’
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless you want Bev the Bitch to be really upset with you.’
Amanda sighed heavily. ‘Okay, let’s get it over with.’ She hiked her skirt up around her waist and bent over, thrusting her bottom towards Louise. ‘You want to whack me. What are you waiting for?’
The waitress observed her cheeks, glowing below the line of her panties.
‘Hey Debs, take a look at this,’ she giggled. ‘Looks like the spy has been a naughty girl.’
The pair sniggered, as they studied her cane-scorched buttocks. Amanda pulled her skirt up over head, to conceal both her shame and pleasure. The heated desire Bev had stoked between her thighs was being rekindled, even though neither girl was touching her.
‘Pull down her knickers,’ Debbie urged.
‘You do it,’ Louise replied. ‘I’m not touching her fat arse. She’d probably enjoy it.’
Debbie had no such reservations. She grabbed the waistband of Amanda’s knickers and yanked them halfway down her thighs. Milky white met cherry red, in striking contrast on her broad buns.
‘It’s all yours,’ Debbie smiled.
Louise wrapped the belt twice around her right hand, then let loose with a lash that sounded like a pistol shot, striking the already reddened portion of Amanda’s bottom.
‘Ouch!’ she yelped. ‘Easy, you sadistic slut.’
‘Oh dear, I bet you don’t speak to Miss Sayle like that,’ said Louise. ‘Just for that, you get six extra.’
Amanda gritted her teeth and winced, as the belt struck her again. Louise might lack the finesse of Bev, but her whacks still had an eyewatering sting.
‘This is fun,’ she said, watching Amanda’s buttocks blossom to a deeper shade of red with every lash.
Debbie was holding the door of the linen store ajar, but her eyes were on the action. She was impatient for her turn. Amanda whimpered under her skirt, silently counting each lash. She prayed she was not betraying her excitement to Louise. She did not mind Bev knowing she derived some pleasure from her punishment, but had no intention of giving these two yet further cause to humiliate her.
Fourteen lashes later, Louise reluctantly handed the belt to her friend.
‘Wow, that’s what I call a well thrashed arse!’ Debbie exclaimed. ‘How does it feel Amanda?’
‘Sore,’ came the muffled reply.
She smiled. ‘Good. I hope you’re not able to sit down for a week.’
‘Get on with it,’ Louise whispered. ‘We don’t want anyone to catch us in here with this fat-arsed slag.’
Debbie’s nipples stiffened against the cotton of her black Metallica tee shirt, as she cracked the belt across the backs of Amanda’s stockinged thighs. She struck her a dozen times, from the tops of her thighs to the backs of her knees, then handed the belt back to Louise. Amanda started to straighten up.
‘Not so fast,’ Debbie told her. ‘I’m not through with you yet.’
Amanda’s protest was cut short by the scalding contact of an open palm with her bottom. She writhed in agony, feeling like she were being branded. The vigorous spanking did not cease until she begged for mercy. Debbie blew on her tingling palm, as she and Louise studied their handiwork. Amanda’s bottom could not have been redder if she had exposed it unprotected to several hours of intense sunlight.
Meanwhile, Bev was standing in the office of the General Manager. She was none too pleased by his uncharacteristically curt summons.
‘Is this important?’ she demanded. ‘I was about to go home.’
‘I shan’t detain you for long,’ Albert Waver replied.
Bev and the middle-aged manager who had worked for her father for twenty years shared a mutual dislike. He hated her arrogant manner, while she resented him occupying the position she felt was rightfully hers.
‘Well?’ she demanded, glancing at her watch.
He cleared his throat. ‘There’s no easy way to put this, Miss Sayle. I have had a serious complaint from a female member of staff, concerning your… er… disciplinary methods.’
‘That isn’t relevant. To be quite honest, I didn’t believe the girl, until she showed me the physical evidence. Even then, I had my doubts. So last night, I searched your desk and found the cane. I’d like to know what the devil you think you’re playing at.’
‘You had no right to go poking in my office,’ Bev retorted. ‘As for my methods of discipline, I am the Duty Manager. I shall deal with my staff as I see fit.’
‘You’re a depraved woman,’ he thundered. ‘A disgrace to this hotel.’
Bev leaned forward and smirked. ‘So fire me, Mister Waver.’
‘That would not be my favoured course of action,’ he replied.
‘You know you can’t,’ she gloated. ‘You might sit in that chair, but you have no authority over me. I can do as I damn well please and if you don’t like it, you can go fuck yourself. Now, was there anything else?’
Waver stood up. ‘What you need, Miss Sayle, is a taste of your own medicine.’
Bev laughed. ‘Are you proposing to beat my bottom?’
‘That is exactly what I’m proposing,’ he answered. ‘I’ve never met anyone who needed firm disciplining more than you.’
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she hissed. ‘You’re not man enough. I can walk all over you, just like I walk all over everybody else in this hotel.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ he responded, bolting from behind his desk.
Bev stood her ground, hands planted on her hips. ‘Come on then.’
Waver momentarily hesitated, before grabbing her right arm. He pushed her down over his desk and pulled her skirt up over her hips. Bev could probably have floored him at that point, but instead, she chose to further antagonise him by wiggling her exposed bottom.
‘Come on, big man,’ she taunted. ‘Either spank my arse or kiss it.’
Waver licked his lips. The latter course of action was suddenly much more appealing. Bev’s long, dark-stockinged legs led to a firm round bottom that the purple silk of her panties only quarter covered. He wished he had never started this now, but he had gone too far to back down. All day, he had been steeling himself to teach her this much needed lesson. If he failed to go through with it, she would cause him to lose much more than his job.
‘You are truly pathetic,’ she sneered. ‘Well, if you’re not going to… ouch!’
The masterly smack of his hand on her left cheek cut her off in mid-sentence. Before she could recover from the shock, a second slap stung the opposite bun. The acidic after-glow was excruciatingly pleasant.
Once he had started, Waver proceeded to spank her with a vengeance, instilling every slap with his pent up fury and frustration. She did not reward him with any further cries of pain or protest, nor did she beg him to stop, even when her bottom began throbbing violently. Only when his arm grew tired did he finally stop.
Bev felt a twinge of disappointment, until she was informed that the punishment was not yet complete. Waver pulled her panties down to her knees. The skin underneath was already a rich shade of pink, but he would not be satisfied until it was as red as the rest of her bottom. He took off his right shoe, slipped it over his hand and whacked her so hard she could not help but cry out.
‘Had enough?’ he panted, watching the shade of her cheeks deepen.
‘I doubt you can give me enough,’ she sniggered.
The shoe struck her again, even harder. She almost cried out for him to stop, but then thrust her bottom further out, daring him to do his worst. He paddled her furiously with the hard leather sole of his shoe, breathing heavily from the exertion. Finally, when beads of sweat were trickling down his brow, Bev gasped the words he had been waiting to hear.
‘Stop, please! Enough!’
He dropped the shoe. Her bottom was well and truly roasted. She would be needing a very thick cushion on her chair, for the next few days. As she started to rise, he grabbed her by the waist and pressed the swelling of his crotch against her, feeling the intense heat of her cheeks through his trousers. When she offered no resistance, he reached tentatively for his zipper.
‘Who told on me?’ she pleaded, pushing back against him.
‘That’s for you to find out,’ he replied. ‘You’re not the only one with spies among the staff.’

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