Authors: Jaye Peaches
Beep!
Spank that arse hard.
Casey gaped at the text message. Spank herself on the bottom with a ruler! Reaching round, she could just reach one of her buttock cheeks, and she gave it a slap. A slight sting emulated from her bottom, and she wondered if she was capable of hitting her own bottom hard. She slapped again and found it was possible to smack herself hard. Changing hands, she tried the other side with her weaker left hand. Her accuracy was not sufficient, and the ruler slipped down her leg. Trying again, she swung her arm to one side and landed the ruler with a noisier whack.
How many and for how long did he expect her to administer her own spanking? She felt ludicrous and very self-conscious. It was not the same as when Rob spanked her. It hurt, and she felt no sense of gratification. A slight coolness brushed against her legs; the door had opened. The temptation to glance behind her was strong, but she held back. The door shut with a click, and she waited for him to take the ruler out of her hands.
* * *
“Don’t stop,” said Rob quietly.
Casey whimpered at him—one of her ‘do I have to’ whimpers. She lifted the ruler and whipped it hard down onto her bottom. Every two or three blows she switched hands and continued to spank herself.
“Hard, isn’t it, doing something on your own?” he remarked softly. “Lonely, isn’t it?”
“Yes!” gasped Casey. “Oh, sir, please!”
Rob stood watching as Casey continued in her feeble efforts to spank herself, at least with regard to the accuracy and force of her smacks. The rest of her was falling apart spectacularly. Every part of her body trembled, her legs wobbled, and her spare hand clutched the edge of the table. Paper had been knocked off onto the floor, and only the mobile lay close by her face. She screwed up her eyes with each self-inflicted blow, and she let out a frustrated groan. It was not working for her, and he knew it.
However, Rob was quite content to watch and below, in his trouser pants, the reason was growing large.
“Some things we’ll always do together, Casey,” he said. “Other times we have to trust to do things on our own. When I travel to conferences and the like, you will always be mindful of me. You will answer my texts and my emails as diligently and quickly as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” rasped Casey as she continued to twist and turn. Her belly had stuck to the table surface with clammy perspiration, leaving a moist imprint of her flesh. The dress had ridden up above her breasts until her nipples were exposed. She looked wanton, and with Rob watching her ridiculous attempt at self-spanking, she had made herself voraciously wet and desirous.
He reached forward and grabbed her wrist. Taking the ruler from her, he applied it with the accuracy, force, and sweep of the arm she had failed to deliver.
“Thank you!” she hollered.
Casey lapped up her spanking, inspiring Rob with the growing redness of her lush bottom. He picked up his pace, and she spread her legs wider, offering her glistening slit to him with little decorum. The craving she exhibited between her legs was undeniable, and it matched Rob’s own burgeoning swelling. Her fingers spanned the table edge, clutching tightly as if he had pinned her to a life raft. Rob tossed the ruler onto the table, and the next sounded delight her: his zipper was lowering and he intended to enter her.
The location was not ideal for Rob, but since he had been with Casey, he had changed many of his habits. Spanking outdoors, sharing her with others, and soon he would put other ideas to the test. Work had been dismissed from his mind. The extraordinary sight of Casey’s shapely bottom and her self-spanking exploits had driven out the legal jargon of his daytime deliberations. Adding his own marks had been deeply satisfying, but now he simply wanted to crush himself against her hot cheeks and bury his aching stiffness deep in her pussy. Gripping her shoulders, with one forward lunge of his hips Rob speared her with his cock.
* * *
Such was the force of his thrust that Casey slammed into the table with a yelp. Her long hair was too tempting a lure to be left untouched. She had once told him she loved the pinch at the roots when he pulled her head up by the strands. Twisting his fingers around her loose hair, he did just as she desired, and he lifted the top half of her torso off the table with her makeshift ponytail, causing her breasts to be freed from underneath her.
Casey’s nipples were dragged back and forth across the table as Rob pummelled her from behind. The stinging in her scalp subsided, and she found herself wishing he would pull harder on her hair. The sound of his thighs slapping against her bottom encouraged her to bounce back at him. An earthy stream of noises slipped out of her mouth as she rocked back and forth on the table. When she clawed at the surface with her fingernails, she left tiny scratches in the varnish. She had come to crave the roughness and unexpected delights of improvised sex.
The master bedroom was the place for seduction and romance. The upstairs room was where fragrant candles were lit and occasionally background music played. She would swan about the room in his chosen lacy lingerie or allow him the indulgence of lacing a white corset about her waist, cinching her tight until she gasped. In the bedroom, she danced for him using the bedpost like a pole. Afterwards, there were always cuddles, and if time, a luxurious aromatic bath with her shoulders resting against his broad chest.
The frantic display of lust in her little office was not the same. It served a different purpose. Casey had been lectured about her neglectful behaviour and had been taught a lesson. Now as Rob pumped his hot milk into her pussy, she was reminded she was his, and she adored the sentiment of possession. It was at this point that Casey melted into the table and ceased to worry about her attitude—they were together again. The realisation triggered a stupendous orgasm of delight which rippled about her body in waves.
His hand released her hair, slipping down her back until it rested on her heated bottom. Rob caught his breath above her, and leaning forward, he whispered down into her ear, “When we’re in this house together, you’ll never sleep apart from me again. I could not bear it last night.”
She shut her eyes and let out a sigh of relief.
“I have a visitor at two o’clock, Casey,” said Mr Tolchard.
“Yes, sir,” said Casey expectantly.
“I need this report printed out and prepared.” He handed her a slip of paper with the title of the document.
“Very good, sir, I’ll get right onto it,” she said smiling.
In her little room, seated at the small desk and staring at the computer screen, she found the document. It was long and seemed to be a lengthy contract or some other kind of legal document. Casey had studied history—unlike Rob Tolchard, who was a leading expert in the incomprehensible and important field of law. She switched on the laser printer and hit the print button. The machine whirred and blinked at her, but no paper appeared in the out-tray.
There was no paper in the in-tray. She frowned and went to the cupboard to fetch more white paper. There was none. The box was empty and not a single ream was in the cupboard. Casey thought hard and could not remember when she had last bought paper from the small stationery shop. Picking up her jacket and car keys, she checked her watch. Plenty of time to sort the problem out.
“I’m going to get printer paper, sir,” said Casey as she stuck her head around Rob’s study door. He simply nodded back at her and returned to his reading.
Her little Mini, bright yellow and noisy, juddered up the road to the Banbury town centre and the office supply store. She bought a box of paper and paid with her own card. Rob always reimbursed her once a week of all expenses. The man was meticulous when it came to accounts and finances. Pocketing the receipt, she loaded the box in the car and drove back to his house.
The printer blinked at her again. Looking at the computer screen, there was a message.
No black ink.
She gaped in disbelief. Yesterday it had been fine—no issues or even a low-level warning. She slammed her hands on the desk and picked up her handbag again.
“Sorry, sir, run out of printer toner.”
Rob looked up this time, and his eyebrows furrowed. “I see. Well, off with you then.” He glanced at his watch. Time was ticking by fast.
The traffic looked worse and moved slower, and she struggled to find a parking space. The man in the shop gave her a second look, and she shrugged her shoulders at him. Fortunately, he had what she needed in stock. Rob was not one for computers or technology; though relatively young in years, he was old-fashioned in temperament and tastes. His house remained in a time warp, unsure whether to move from its stationary place in history. Casey thought she brought something different to its four walls—perhaps a little vibrancy and fun.
The printer was slow. Tediously slow. And as she fed it more paper, it chewed up the occasional sheet. Finally she was finished, and patting the pile of paper into neat edges, she smiled. She entered Rob’s study and cleared her throat before placing the printed document on his desk.
Rob looked at the pile of loose sheets and put down his pen. Leaning back in his chair, he pointed at the document and raised an eyebrow.
“That is not a report. It is a pile of pulped wood with black liquid arranged on it.”
Casey thought he was telling her some bad joke. She smiled at him and then wiped it off when she saw his face.
“Bound would be better, don’t you think?” he remarked. “A plastic cover and fasteners? Something smart. There should be some in the cupboard.”
The last words were said in dismissal, so Casey left holding the document in her hands. Opening the cupboard, she was dismayed to find there were no plastic covers or fasteners. She hunted frantically, aware the time was approaching for the arrival of Rob’s visitor.
She crept into his study with her handbag and car keys.
“Er, I have to go out again.”
“Do you?” he asked icily. “Somehow I never envisaged printing off one document could take so long, involve several car journeys, and fail to provide me with what I asked for.”
Casey stomped around the shop, trying to find the most perfect report cover. Not pink or bright purple, but something masculine like blue or grey. They had to be bought in packs of at least ten. Driving back in her Mini, she fumed at everything around her and swerved to miss a cat, almost hitting another car. She was convinced the world was against her that day. What had she done to deserve so much hassle and strife?
The visitor had already arrived. It was past two o’clock, and she still had to punch holes in the document, fasten the sheets together, and put on the grey cover. It seemed to take far too long, as if a slow motion button had been pressed on a video screen. She sweated, though it was not hot. Her fingers moved like stiffened plastic, and she signed in relief at the finished document. She had to admit, it did look smart and professional.
Tapping on his study door, she was summoned in. The two men were sitting by the meeting table—an oak antique masterpiece from some bygone era. The other man was older than Rob and was dressed smartly with a burgundy pullover and tie. His thin greying hair topped a rather handsome, striking face. Casey held out the report with a shaking hand. The two men had not taken their eyes off her as she progressed across the floor.
“Thank you, Casey,” said Rob, taking the report.
Casey started to turn to leave them. Then she remembered what she should say. “I’m very sorry it is late, sir. Things were a little trickier that I thought.”
“They were, weren’t they, Casey,” said Rob. “I’m sorry to say that all of it could have been avoided.”
Casey blinked as Rob in the presence of his esteemed guest picked apart her failings. “A report was requested, not a printout. I asked for it clearly, and you had plenty of time, Casey. Preparation is key to all good, well-presented work. Check your equipment regularly. Ensure your supplies are replaced before they run out, and keep a list ready for when you go shopping. One trip should have been sufficient if you had checked everything in advance. From now on I want you to maintain all my supplies with one weekly shop. If I find out you have been more than once, I will spank you.”
Casey wanted the floor to devour her entirely. She went crimson, and her eyes widened to vast proportions. She could not look at the distinguished visitor, who had listened mutely to Rob’s admonishment.
“Well, Casey?” asked Rob.
“Yes, sir,” she said in a mouse-like voice. “I will try… I will do as you ask.” She turned to leave.
“No, Casey,” said Rob softly. “I haven’t finished. You were late doing this, and I want you to remember what I have asked you to do. I think the best way to help you not forget is if I spank you. Here and now.”
“Sir, surely…” She eyed Rob in disbelief and jerked her head at the grey haired man.
“Are you questioning me, Casey?” asked Rob sternly.
Casey straightened up. “No, sir, just…” she halted.
Rob altered his position in the chair and taking the report, he rolled it up into a cylinder. He tapped his lap and gave Casey a look.
Casey knew that look well. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and lowered herself over his lap. Whatever their guest thought of the proceedings was unknown, because the man did not move, blink, or make a sound. Neither did he gasp nor comment when Rob lifted up her short skirt to reveal her naked bottom.
As spankings went, it was one of his meaner ones. Casey’s legs jerked and kicked, so Rob wrapped one of his legs over her own and pinned an arm behind her back. Not only was it painful, but it was mortifying. To be spanked and humiliated in the presence of a stranger was challenging her obedience. If Rob secretly expected her to enjoy the experience, Rob was wrong. It was not the same as her night time encounter with strangers. The daytime was different. They were different people, or so she believed.
“Repeat what you have learnt, Casey,” he said, slapping her tense cheeks with the stiff report.