With an air of resignation, she walked slowly across the room to the desk. She acted as if she had no choice in the matter and in reality she had none. It was either this or go to the Job Centre first thing on Monday morning and try to explain to the clerk there just why she had lost her last job, and that was something she knew she just could not do. She also knew that the reasons for her immediate dismissal, and such it would be, would give the DSS adequate grounds to withhold any form of benefit money from her for the next six months; and then what would she do?
She was very conscious as she walked that he was standing behind her watching her back as she walked. Not only her back but also her bottom and legs. She was conscious that with the tension in her leg and buttock muscles from wearing high heeled shoes and the black pencil skirt the hem of which was an inch or so above the knee, he would be able to see the panty line across her bottom" but that was the least other worries for he'd soon see far more than the suggestion of the line.
She reached the desk and stood there, the edge of it pressing into her thighs. She saw him move, out of the corner of her eye and glanced behind her involuntarily. At the back of the office was a very large fern in an earthenware pot. The plant was tied to a long thin bamboo cane. She watched as he removed the wire ties from the stem and drop them on the soil at its base, and then slowly pull the cane out of the pot completely. She realized she was watching all this with a kind of detached fascination, as if she was watching preparations for somebody else's beating.
The command she had been dreading came. She was told to move the things on the desk to one side and hold onto the edge at the far side. The problem was that he had a second desk in front of the principal one to give a double width and this meant that the only way she could carry out the order was to lie flat across the two widths of polished wood. Even so, she found herself standing on tiptoe to reach across and felt every muscle down the backs of her legs, thighs and bottom go taught. She tried to lie as flat as she could but was hampered by her breasts pressing down on the desktops. When she had dressed that morning, and that seemed such a long time ago now, she had slipped into her 36 inch C cupped Wonderbra, feeling very much the femme fatale that she knew most of the staff thought her to be. Now, she wished she had chosen a more modest form of support, one that would allow a degree of flexibility and movement and would not insist that her bust was pushed forwards and upwards with maximum cleavage and incidentally causing her maximum discomfort in her present position.
A thought flashed through her mind. She suddenly remembered the last time she had been in this position. It was at school, obviously, and she had been seen in the town when she should have been in school. Moreover she had lied when questioned about her absence and told the Headmistress that she had been unwell; but it had been that lady who had seen her. This had resulted in her immediate summons to her study, where she had been made to touch her toes and had received four agonizingly blazing strap welts across her bottom; one on each cheek and one on each thigh. She thought back and remembered how thankful she had been that she had been allowed to keep her skirt down and how she had prayed that the thigh marks would be hidden by the dark blue material when she returned to her classroom some ten minutes later after a
quick trip to the toilet to look at the damage. She had been eighteen then and ten years had elapsed without anything remotely like it happening to her. She suddenly remembered that when she was in the toilet on that far-off day, twisting round to see her scarlet bottom in the mirror, that she had been very wet, and she now blushed furiously as this thought struck her because she realised that it could so easily happen again right now.
However, a sobering thought came to her. There were rules at school which meant
that even Headmistresses had to restrain their arms when beating naughty schoolgirls but she was outside the scope of those rules now and there was very little she could do about it.
She clenched her bottom cheeks as she heard him arrive behind her. He put the cane down on the desk in front of her. He had wiped the soil marks off with tissue paper and she could see that it was about three feet long and about three quarters of an inch thick at one end tapering to a little less than half an inch thick at the other end.
He reminded her of her crimes, that she, his trusted and usually so competent Personal Assistant had insulted the Chief Executive of their most important client and in all probability lost the firm one of its' most lucrative contracts and that in addition had shown no remorse and had announced in an open office that he had had it coming. And all for what? The man had paid her a compliment; had told her she was gorgeous; maybe not in so many words but surely she was an adult and dressing the way she did surely she was expecting some reaction from the opposite sex? She had reacted totally irrationally and now retribution was at hand. She watched him wrap his handkerchief around the soiled, thicker end of the stick and take up a position behind her, and to her left. He was holding it by the improvised handle of Irish Linen standing well to the side so as to get the maximum swing. He tapped her bottom two or three times and then she saw his hand holding the cane swing back.
She shut her eyes, gritted her teeth and clenched her bottom tight trying to reduce the target area. When it landed, there was no immediate pain, but within a split second a searing shock ran across both cheeks and she gasped. She realised that she had jerked forward because the friction had caused her blouse buttons, already under considerable strain to burst open and her breasts to touch the cold polished teak surface. She didn't have much time to contemplate this because strokes two, three and four landed in quick succession. There was then a pause in the proceedings, as he stood back.
He told her to stand up and for one wonderful moment she thought it was all over, but no; he merely wanted her to pull her skirt up round her waist. She obeyed realising as before that she had no choice. She was now regretting her choice from the knicker drawer this morning. She was wearing the skimpiest piece of frivolous white lace she owned, which formed a fantastically sexy pair with the Wonderbra. She had planned a much different evening for herself than the one, which was now taking place and these garments, had figured largely in those plans. She had a sense of foreboding that like her original plans for the time when the office had closed officially, these knickers were going to come down in the very near future.
She was also wearing a matching suspender belt and barely black seamless stockings. Why oh why had she done this? She almost always wore tights at work but today of all days she had thought there insufficient time to change and now her boss was staring at the bottom of a tart and thinking, no doubt, that all the theories about her which she knew had done the office rounds, were true and that she was interested in one thing only. Well, there was an element of truth there anyway. And what was wrong with that? Sex was a natural urge and she did enjoy it, but only with the right man. Another problem was that she had always had a thing about her boss as well as her regular boyfriend. In fact, if she was absolutely honest with herself she wanted him more than just about anything and she suddenly realised that she would love to take her knickers off for the man standing behind her right now, even though he was still going to cause her considerable pain.
His arm swung back again and came down in rapid succession four more times. Almost as if she'd told him about her last school strapping, she received two strokes on her bottom and two across her thighs. These last two caused her to yelp and flinch. She stood up on her toes and rapidly clenched and unclenched her buttocks.
She felt his fingers in her waistband and then without any resistance from her he slid her knickers down to her knees. In fact, she pushed her thighs away from the desk to allow him to pull them down more easily. She opened her legs as wide as she could with the restraining elastic in place and pushed her bottom out towards him.
He gave her a final six strokes at a measured pace, placing each one with methodical calm and precision and she realised that this was not the first time he'd indulged in this sort of activity. He had placed five strokes in a descending line across both bottom cheeks and now he gave her the sixth and final one diagonally across the other five.
He told her later when they lay in his king-sized bed together at his penthouse flat that this was called 'gating', but she was past caring. She was warm, (that was certainly true!) she was satisfied, (and that was also an understatement!) he was satisfied, (well, she only had to look at him to see that!) she was in a new relationship that she now knew was the one she had always wanted since she'd first taken the job. He'd finally confessed to her that it was what he'd always wanted and that he'd used the events of the day to satisfy his own urgent feelings and been stunned when he'd seen from her reaction that she was enjoying it (well, apart from her rather obvious gestures he'd noticed the wetness in one rather significant place!)
There was one other rather satisfying element to all this. Thank Heavens it was Friday and that she didn't have to go to the office tomorrow. There would certainly be talk in the place if she spent the entire day standing up!