She stood nervously in the middle of the room. To the outside observer, it may look as if she was ready for work in a law office. She wore a skirt suit. The skirt was long enough to be respectable but short enough to be sexy. It was black, form fitting, and fell to just above her knees. Her blouse was a simple white, impeccably pressed. Her black jacket was sharp. She wore black, peep-toe, two-inch heels. Her dark, curly hair didn’t seem difficult to style, but still appeared as if she had taken her time. The curls and waves were sleek and shiny, and if she had used any type of holding product, it was undetectable. Her make up was exactly as I liked it: subtle with some sparkle around her eyes.
I walked around her, inspecting her in silence. I showed neither pleasure nor displeasure, and I allowed the tension in the room to thicken. At first, I didn’t touch her. I simply looked her up and down. When I finally caressed her bottom gently, she gasped.
“Sh-sh-sh,” I said, gently. I gave her bottom a little squeeze. She was firm, yet soft. I sighed a little, my thoughts wandering. I pulled myself back. There would be time for fantasy fulfillment later. I ran my hands along her thighs and felt the silkiness of her taupe pantyhose, impressed by her attention to detail. I inspected her soft, finely manicured hand. I realized that her career in law truly worked to my advantage. She knew how to take care of herself.
I finally looked into her brown eyes.
“Put your hands behind your head,” I said, quietly, and she immediately complied. I put my hand on her soft, supple breast. She turned a deep shade of red and looked down.
“Look at me,” I said, firmly, still keeping my tone quiet. She immediately looked me in the eyes again, obviously uncomfortable and embarrassed. It’s exactly how I wanted her. I took my time enjoying the feel of her breasts in my hand, keeping steady eye contact. She blinked frequently and her flush hardly faded.
I finally touched her face. Her skin was hot under my fingers, but she still faithfully kept eye contact. I was already in love with her deep, brown eyes, but I remained expressionless. I had plenty of time to express my pleasure at her appearance and demeanor. For now, her training had begun.
“Kneel,” I said, taking a step back to allow her to do so. She almost forgot herself and almost let her arms fall to her sides, but she caught herself before she let them fall completely. I slapped her face firmly, careful to only startle her and not cause pain. She gasped but said nothing. She was in training, and no slip ups were allowed.
As achingly beautiful as she looked while standing, she was twice as beautiful kneeling. I walked around her again, and after a few minutes, I spoke.
“Here are the rules:” I began, with the sharp tone of a drill sergeant (without all of the yelling and name calling,) “you address me as “ma’am” at all times. I will call you “girl.” I will not use your actual name until the end of your training, so I expect you to jump every time to her the word, “girl” out of my mouth, no matter the context. You speak only when I ask you a question directly or you need to be excused because of emotional stress, illness, or other biological necessities. At that time, you will state the issue specifically. You will obey every single command, unless you are physically incapable to do so. That being said, you will need to alert me to any injuries or other things that would make you incapable of fulfilling all commands. Finally, when I do ask you a question, I expect an honest answer. You will not tell me things that you think I want to hear. There are unpleasant things I will expect you to endure, as well as pleasant things. Lying does not please me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said.
“Stand up.”
This time, she kept her hands firmly behind her head.
“Go to the desk, bend over, and put your hands down flat on the desk.”
It was the part I had been eagerly waiting for. I caressed her bottom gently, hoping to draw this out as long as humanly possible. I knew we wouldn’t have sex for a while, but I was so tempted. I started her spanking with forceful pats. I wanted her to settle in and relax (as much as she could be in this position.) It wasn’t a punishment spanking, so I wasn’t seeking to inflict serious pain. I dragged the smacking out as long as I could, resisting the urge to pull up her skirt with some force, yank down those pantyhose, and truly redden her backside.
“Stand up and hike your skirt up to your waist, then resume the position.”
She immediately complied. When she bent over again, I tucked the hem of her blouse into the waistband of her skirt. I gave her a flurry of hard smacks that were in fact punishment for the panties she was wearing. They were lacy, high cut panties that showed off a good portion of her bottom. I had not been specific about her panties, but I was not pleased. She gasped at the sudden force, but she didn’t cry out or complain.
I grabbed a fist full of her hair, and pulled up gently.
“Unless I tell you otherwise, girl, you will wear plain white cotton panties, bikini cut. No colors, no designs, no lace or bows. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said.
I let go of her hair and resumed spanking her in the same gentle manner as before. I couldn’t tell how pink she was because of the dark taupe of her pantyhose.
“From now on, I want you to wear garter belts and traditional stockings. You have two days to procure them if you do not already own them. The garter belts will be white, and the stockings will be nude, taupe, or any variation of those. No black, no white, no other colors.”
“Yes-,”
“Stand up and look me in the eye,” I said, and as soon as we made eye contact, I slapped her face again, a little more firmly this time. She looked confused.
“I didn’t ask you a question,” I said, simply. “Resume your position.”
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of her pantyhose and pulled them to her knees. I couldn’t help but spend a moment appreciating the delicate lace of her panties before I started spanking her again. She was blushed pink when I started, but after only a handful of smacks, the shade deepened. She was gasping, but it was obvious that she focused her efforts on keeping quiet.
Her panties covered so little of the spankable parts of her bottom that there hardly seemed reason to pull them down except for the fact that there is nothing sexier than a bared bottom. I slowly pulled them down to her knees.
“Stand.”
She did.
“In the top drawer of the desk, I have a well-loved wooden hairbrush. Walk over and bring it to me.”
I admired the sight of her shuffles around the desk. She handed me the brush, and stood in front of me, keeping eye contact. I almost smiled. She had the detail-oriented mind of a lawyer, and she learned fast.
“Resume your position.”
She did. I noticed immediately that she was clenching her bottom. I stroked her gently in an effort to calm her, but it was obvious that she wasn’t looking forward to the next part of the spanking.
“Relax,” I ordered, and with great difficulty, she unclenched her muscles. I stroked her gently, feeling her struggle with the clenching and unclenching. I let this pass as her anticipation of pain was overwhelming her ability to completely obey. I spanked her with my hand again with the hope that it would settle her a bit. She clenched again when she felt me pick up the hairbrush. I kept the first few strokes light to get her past the assumptions of anticipation. I picked up the pace and the force, and a few times, a small cry escaped her lips. I appreciated her effort to keep quiet and the hairbrush rose and fell, painting her bottom a deep shade of red. I would probably bruise her, but I felt it was the only way to ensure that she would feel this for at least a few hours. I heard her sniffle a few times, but she held her position in spite of the ceaseless rhythm of my brush. Her bottom was wine red when I finished.
I didn’t order her up right away. I listened to her gasp and sniffle for a few moments as she composed herself.
“Stand up.”
I felt a wave of affection for her when I looked into her watery eyes. I brushed away one of the tears that escaped.
“Good girl,” I said, before I could stop myself. I reached around and gave her fiery bottom a tight squeeze that made her gasp.
“Did you enjoy that?” I said, quietly.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, sheepishly. She wasn’t lying. I could tell by her eyes that she was simply embarrassed for liking it. I had something to work on with her.
I let my fingers wander to the moist folds between her legs. I caressed her gently, enjoying the feel of her baby soft skin.
“Do you enjoy this?” I said.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said, with a slight moan.
“Would you like to have an orgasm?” I said, rubbing with slightly more force.
“Y-y-yes, ma’am,” she said in a breathy voice.
I took my hand away.
“Good,” I said, simply, and she looked crestfallen. “You are not to masturbate at all during your training. I will tell you if and when you may have an orgasm.”
Her look of longing was intense, as was my own desire.
“Put your hands behind your head and kneel in the corner.”
I admired her red bottom, her slightly mussed hair, and her straight, determined back as she kneeled in the corner. I sat at my desk and began to do some work. I was immersed in a project so deeply that I forgot about her until I heard her timid voice.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“May I use the bathroom, ma’am?”
“Why do you need to use the bathroom?”
She shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat.
“I- I need to pee, ma’am,” she said, her voice shaking.
“You may straighten up your clothes and then use the bathroom. When you return, stand in front of my desk.”
She straightened her clothes and then put her hands behind her head. She was cleverer than I thought.
“You can put down your arms now.”
I turned back to my work, and when she returned and stood in front of my desk, I ignored her for about ten minutes. She stood quietly the whole time without sighing, fidgeting, or giving any sign she was actually there. She was truly amazing.
“We’re done for today,” I said, and she noticeably relaxed.
more to come…