Mr Smedley Punishes Lateness

Further lessons into corporal punishment.

Shortly after my experiences at my neighbours’ dinner party I got to work at The Smedley Property Agency (a little late again) and I was advised by my manager Colin that Mr Smedley was coming in later that day to do the annual appraisal interviews. Colin was looking particularly smug, he had the report and attendance book in his hand. He didn’t like me much, it was mutual. I found him an unattractive little man and I had told him so as a last resort to stop him continually coming on to me. He kept his hands to himself these days as our newest staff member Jenny (on the plump side and not adverse to displaying her ample charms in the most unsuitable workwear) seemed to enjoy his advances.

Mr Smedley, a stern looking older man, arrived around eleven o’clock. He marched through the office with a cursory nod to each of us and went straight to his upstairs office. We didn’t often go upstairs at the office as all there was up there was Mr Smedley’s locked office and a bathroom. One by one we were summoned to his presence each interview lasted about fifteen minutes.

At last, with just myself and Colin left to attend, I was called. Mr Smedley sat behind his desk with his chin resting on his hands, In front of him was the report book. I wasn’t invited to sit down.
“I see that you have arrived late several times recently” he said. I had my hands behind my back and my head lowered. I felt like a naughty schoolgirl. “Yes,” I agreed “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to be late again.” “You have also made some silly mistakes because you seem distracted. Is that right?” I nodded miserably. I had never found myself in this situation before. I usually took pride in my punctuality and professionalism. “Is there some reason for this poor performance?” I shook my head hesitantly. “No sir” I mumbled. Mr Smedley cleared his throat and hesitated for a moment which added to my discomfiture. After a moment he sat up straight and reorganised the items on his desk. He looked me in the eye. “Business is a little difficult at the moment and I have to cut my work force. It seems to me that you are not pulling your weight. Is there any reason why I should not dispense with your services?” “Please Mr Smedley,” I was shaken by this threatened action “I need my job. Please give me a second chance” “There is an alternative” I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or not. “You can report back to this office at five o’clock and accept a punishment from me.” I looked at his face, his expression gave nothing away apart from a slight sparkle in his eyes. “Punishment?” I asked.
“Yes, you will come back here this evening and accept a spanking from me or you can leave now and look for another job. Go away and think about it. If you are still in the office at five o’clock I will assume that you have accepted my terms. I will send for you” With a wave of his hand he dismissed me from his presence. I tried very hard to concentrate on my work for the rest of the day. I had already decided that my circumstances required my acquiescence to the boss’s suggestion. I had an expensive mortgage and a car loan to pay.

At five o’clock, when everyone but Mr Smedley, Colin and myself had left, the ‘phone rang, making me jump. It was Mr Smedley summoning me upstairs. I stood and headed for the stairs. Colin, nasty little toad, smirked as I passed him.

He was still behind his desk with a small round paddle in front of him. He indicated that I should stand in front of him as he addressed me.
“You’ve frequently been late and your work performance has not been satisfactory. This has put extra pressure on your co-workers. In order to keep your job you have agreed to accept a spanking as punishment which will be as follows: You are going over my knee for a lengthy hand spanking and this will be followed by twenty strokes of this paddle while you lean over a chair. You will not try to move or escape any stroke. If you move additional blows will be applied. Do you understand?”
My knees were trembling as I nodded and my voice was very quiet when I answered. “Speak up!” demanded Mr Smedley. “Yes” I said. “Yes, sir” he demanded. “Yes, sir” I whispered.

He pushed his chair back from the desk and waved me forward. He pulled me across his knees, adjusting my position until satisfied that I was where he wanted me. Then very quickly, to my complete surprise, he hitched up my skirt, placed one arm firmly around my waist and laid his other hand on my bare cheeks. After some gentle squeezing and rubbing he raised his arm and the spanking began. He hit my backside over and over until I began to groan and whimper. He covered every inch of my posterior with stinging hurting slaps. Between each slap he chastised me for my misdemeanours and called me a naughty, wicked, ungrateful girl. I was yelling and crying uncontrollably now and trying to remember how many slaps I had been promised. Twenty of the paddle were still to come and yet he was still landing very hard, fast blows with his hand. He stopped to pull my panties down to my knees and then continued with undimished vigour. Smack, smack, smack. I was bucking a bit as he slapped me. He demanded that I keep still. My bum was burning and throbbing. I just kept sobbing and apologising in hope of it coming to an end. Finally he stopped spanking me but kept me in position over his knee while he inspected the damage that he had inflicted. He let me stand and picking up his chair he walked to the middle of the room telling me to follow him and bring the paddle with me. Tears were still falling as I did as I was told. I didn’t think I would be able to take much more – but I had agreed after all. I reached the chair and was told to remove my knickers completely, raise my skirt, bend over the back of the chair and take hold of the seat with my hands. I was finding it hard to stop my knees from buckling. “Keep still!” I was ordered. “Remember what I said about extra strokes for disobedience” He parted my feet slightly to lower me onto the chair back and placed the paddle against my sore arse. He patted me a couple of times then smacked me hard, first on one cheek then on the other. He counted the strokes out loud. One, two, three, four. Then he stopped for a moment to remind me of my shortcomings. The effect of the paddle gradually grew in intensity as he spoke. Time for another four. Smack, five. Smack, six. Smack, seven. Smack, eight. Every application of the paddle to my rear end brought a yell from me and my knees seemed weak as they struggled to hold me in position. After each set of four whacks was a short pause for more chastisement, giving me time to appreciate the afterglow of the punishing application of the paddle. I was trying not to sob but there were tears and gulps as well as frequent yelps and gasps, I couldn’t help myself.

After the twentieth stroke I slowly started to stand. “No, not yet” said Mr Smedley calmly. “Just stay where you are for now. I’ll tell you when to move.” He stood looking at my battered and bruised bottom then he moved back to his desk, opened his drawer and took out a cane. I pleaded with him, “Please, not the cane, please.” He began to clear things from his desk and explained what was to happen next. “I understand from my friend Michael that you sometimes enjoy a good spanking. I can tell from your wetness that you have derived some pleasure from your punishment so far. To make sure that you appreciate that this is not a reward you are going to lay across my desk and accept six of the best. Is that understood.” He was standing in front of me now. “Y y yes, sir” I said as I stood. “Not yet” he pushed me back down again. “You can stay bent over that chair and think about those six cane strokes until I am ready. With that he perched himself on the edge of his desk and lit a cigarette. He was watching me very carefully. I considered my position. I could always leave but I needed my job. That cane looked vicious, I had never been caned but I had fantasised about it. Was I capable of taking it, like Annie and Peter had? I was scared and my backside was extremely sore. Throbbing and stinging. I wondered what it looked like. “Right” Mr Smedley brought me back from my wondering. “Come here and get across the desk.” I went to him and bent over carefully. He moved me further onto the desk so that my toes were just touching the floor. My legs were spread apart and my sore arse was presented in the manner he required. He poked at it a couple of times making me wince then he put out his cigarette and picked up the cane, swishing through the air several times. He had a slight smile on his face and his eyes were dark and sparkling. Moving to take up position he bounced the instrument on its target a couple of times. I squeezed my buttocks together and shut my eyes tightly. It was a long time before the first stroke was administered. When it came it was sharp and painful. I wasn’t yelping now but rather yelling. “You will count the strokes and thank me for each one” I was instructed. “Do it now” “One” I said “Thank you sir” “Not bad” he said “You are learning. The next stroke came with no pre-bouncing so it took me by surprise and I screamed. “Two, thank you sir” I braced myself for the next whoosh and crack but it was a while before I felt the cane being bounced against my cheeks again. As it lifted there was another pause before whoosh, crack, “Three sir, thank you” I sobbed. Each of the last three strokes was different although all three were accompanied by a grunt from Mr Smedley as he exerted as much power as he could into the caning. Each of the three elicited a scream from me and I had to gather my breath before I could utter the required count.

When at last I was allowed to get up from the desk I tried to hold my burning bum but Mr Smedley poked me with the cane and gave his final word on the subject. “Do not try to touch that in front of me. I know it hurts, it’s supposed to. Now I hope you have learned your lesson. If not, and you transgress again, you will be punished again. Next time it will be a public spanking. I will have someone here to witness your humiliation. Do you understand?” “Yes sir” I nodded. “Right, get your clothes sorted out, dry your eyes and go home. If I have occasion to spank you again it will be more severe. Get out, and don’t be late tomorrow”. I picked up my pants and went to the bathroom where I washed myself and eased my skirt and pants over my swollen backside. I went back downstairs to collect my coat very conscious that a grinning Colin was observing me closely. It seemed he knew what had just happened. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of gloating so I stood up straight and walked confidently to the door, turning and winking at him as I left. The look on his face was worth the effort it had taken to appear normal when my arse felt as though it was on fire. Later, at home, I lay on my stomach and cried with both pleasure and pain. My bum hurt and I was horny. For me the worst punishment of all was not getting fucked. My dildo was in my dressing table, but for now I was too sore to get up and get it. What, I wondered, would Annie & Peter make of this latest development in my education. I couldn’t wait to tell them