A Study in Shame (14 page)

‘Easy. We spent a little too long in the bar. I missed my last train and you kindly allowed me to sleep on your couch. If I was a man, everybody would assume we’d had sex, whether we had or not, but, because I’m a woman, nobody will suspect a thing.’

***

She was right. There were several people around the lift as we stepped out together, but nobody paid us more than cursory attention. Mr Scott plainly didn’t know at all, and I was not about to enlighten him. He was also distracted by a new claim from his wife, which made it a busy day for me, but a fairly straightforward one as I was used to her little ways.

I saw Stacey several times during the day as I worked on various tasks around the office, but we were on our best behaviour, never sharing more than a quiet knowing smile.

Thursday was movie night for her and the other girls from the main floor, so I didn’t have a chance to see her in the evening, or Magnus, so I walked over to the Pink Pussycat to see Charlie and choose something to wear for my caning. I wanted it to be something that Magnus would appreciate, and I always think it’s important to dress correctly for a special occasion. For this I wanted an outfit I wouldn’t normally be seen dead in, and would be thoroughly ashamed to have on even for punishment.

Charlie understood immediately and began to give me a tour of her stock. ‘How about a saucy schoolgirl outfit? We’ve got tartan miniskirts and big panties in white, navy and bottle green.’

She was holding up a pleated skirt so short it wouldn’t have covered my bottom at all, leaving my panties on show before I even bent over.

I shook my head. ‘No. I wouldn’t look like a schoolgirl. I’d look like a stripper.’

‘That’s true of most of our stuff, I’m afraid. How about something retro? Here’s a fifties-style dress with petticoats and frilly knickers.’

The dress was blue and spotty, pretty but just not right.

Again I shook my head. ‘It’s not really me, or rather, it’s not
not me
enough to work, if you see what I mean.’

‘OK, if you want something that’s very definitely not you, how about this little black and white maid’s uniform? It’s satin, or satin-look anyway.’

It was black and shiny, with a white trim and a little white apron, but like the school uniform it could never have passed for the real thing.

‘No. I like the idea of being a servant, but it’s not right. I need something that brings me right down to earth, so I really feel the shame when my skirts get turned up.’

‘We’re going about this the wrong way. Hang on.’

She took out her phone, and moved to the end of the shop so that I couldn’t hear her conversation, looking up occasionally to glance at me with a critical eye. When the conversation was over, she was smiling, but she wouldn’t tell me what was going on.

I soon found out, when another woman came into the shop holding three dresses on hangers. One caught my eye immediately, a truly beautiful creation in heavy blue silk and fine enough to wear at one of my father’s receptions.

Charlie smiled and leaned close to whisper into my ear. ‘Imagine that turned up onto your back and your knickers pulled down.’

***

She was right. It was perfect. In a school uniform or a maid’s outfit, I’d have felt small even before the ritual of my punishment began, but in my new and beautiful ball gown I would look every inch a daughter of wealth and privilege, not at all the sort of girl who’d be touching her toes for a caning. I would look beautiful too, rather than merely sexy, and, while people would no doubt comment if I wore it in the street, they were hardly going to disapprove.

I’d tried it on in the shop and it needed a couple of adjustments, so I had it delivered to work on the Friday, successfully avoiding the attention of Mr Scott, who was sure to feel I was misusing the working day, but not the attention of Stacey, whose attitude was just the opposite.

‘That’s beautiful! Are you going somewhere special?’

She obviously wanted to know what was going on, and I’d already been considering the pros and cons of inviting her to watch me being caned. An audience was definitely a good thing, but while I was sure she’d enjoy the view I wasn’t at all sure if she’d be able to cope with my pain. I hesitated before answering. ‘Um … sort of. Are you busy later?’

‘I was going out for a drink, but …’

There was no mistaking the implication of her unfinished sentence. We were right under the eye of a CCTV camera, so I gave her a chaste peck on one cheek before going on. ‘Say you have to work late and you can come up to my flat for supper.’

She nodded and we went our separate ways, leaving me with a warm flush suffusing my skin. I was going to have to sound her out before inviting her and I already had a test in mind, one that was sure to spice up my evening, and hers.

The rest of the day seemed to last forever, but I finally found myself alone on the main floor but for Mr Scott, who was still in his office, and Stacey, who was sitting diligently at her computer. I’d spoken to Magnus earlier and knew exactly what Mr Scott was planning to do with his evening, making it extremely difficult to keep a straight face when he came over to the lifts.

‘Good night, Miss Salisbury.’

‘Good night, Mr Scott.’

He’d gone down rather than up to his own flat, and I was imagining him on his knees with Magnus’s big pink cock in his mouth as Stacey came over. We took the lift up in silence and kissed as we reached my door, then again as soon as we were in my flat, more urgently, with Stacey’s fingers going straight to the buttons of my blouse.

I kissed the tip of her nose and pulled back. ‘Not yet, darling. I want to teach you something. How to spank me.’

‘You and your spanking!’

‘Be fair. I’ll do anything you want.’

‘OK, but you’re a very bad girl. You do know that, don’t you?’

‘Yes, which is the perfect reason to spank me. Right, sit down. Lesson one, there are lots of good positions to put a girl in for a spanking: standing, or face down on the bed, bent over something or kneeling in a chair with her bottom stuck out, even rolled up on her back as if she’s having a nappy changed, but the classic is what we call OTK, or over the knee, like this.’

Stacey sat down on one of my kitchen chairs and I got into position, across her legs with my bottom lifted. She immediately gave me a pat on the seat of my skirt, which felt so good I was having trouble keeping my voice steady as I went on. ‘OTK is traditional, which is always good, and there’s nothing quite like it to reinforce the difference between us: me, the one being spanked, and you, the one doing the spanking. With me across your knees, that makes you everything strong, everything dominant, my superior in every way.’

‘And what does it make you?’

‘A spanked girl, which says it all. Lesson two, when a girl needs to be punished she forfeits her right to modesty, which is why you should always spank a girl on her bare bottom. Strip me then.’

I heard the catch in my own voice as I said it, and I closed my eyes in ecstasy as my smart blue office skirt was rolled slowly up around my hips to leave the seat of my panties on show. She gave me another pat, firmer than before, and told me I was naughty, then took a grip on the waistband of my knickers. ‘These too?’

‘Yes, definitely. Knickers should always come down for a spanking, Stacey.’

She peeled down my panties and I was bare behind, with my mouth open in pure bliss.

‘That’s right, and so nice. Bare means bare, Stacey, and it doesn’t matter who sees what, so there’s no reason to leave a girl’s knickers up when she’s going to be spanked, ever.’

‘But surely it doesn’t matter? Don’t you feel sorry for yourself, with your bare bum stuck out like this? And I can see everything, believe me.’

‘Yes, of course I care, and of course I feel sorry for myself, but nobody else cares. I’m going to be spanked so I’ve had my panties pulled down, pure and simple. Now spank me, Stacey, and don’t mind how I react.’

She began to spank, just gently at first but quickly warming to her task. I was in heaven from the start, enjoying simply being bare over her knee with the cheeks of my bottom bouncing to her smacks. Stacey Atkinson, who I’d fantasised over so often, now my lover, and the perfect girl to give me my spankings.

She was enjoying herself too, and after a while she admitted it. ‘This is fun. Are you sure you’re OK? I’m not hurting you?’

‘No. Do it harder if you like.’

Her giggle said it all as she began to spank me harder, to make my skin sting and my legs start to kick in my panties. My thighs had started to come open, and I could smell my own excitement, which meant she could too. I stuck up my bottom, letting my cheeks open and showing off my anus.

‘Dirty girl! You deserve this.’

‘Lesson three, Stacey. When you spank a girl, don’t be surprised if she gets turned on. OK, I’m warm now, you can put me down, at least for a bit.’

She ignored me, save to take a firm grip on my waist and to spank harder still, until I began to kick in earnest and yelp to the pain of what had suddenly become a real spanking. It hurt, but I wasn’t going to stop her and she was definitely invited to watch my caning. Finally, it stopped, by which time my bottom was ablaze and I was badly in need of a hug, and to be put on my knees. I was shaking as I climbed off her lap, but I didn’t get up, instead kneeling on the floor in front of her with my hot red bottom stuck out as I opened my arms.

‘Lesson four, always give a spanked girl a nice cuddle afterwards, then you can make her go down on your pussy to say thank you.’

I came into her arms, to kiss her mouth, cuddle up to her and nuzzle her breasts until she got the hint and pulled one out to feed her nipple into my mouth. She let me suckle for a while as she adjusted her skirt and pulled down her knickers, before taking me firmly by the hair to ease me lower and pull my head in between her legs.

It was time for my caning. Saturday had been unbearable, with my feelings slowly rising as the time drew closer and closer. I worried about how much it was going to hurt, whether I’d start to cry, if Stacey would be able to cope after all, if Magnus was going to fuck me when he was done and what the girls would think about that. Stacey had gone home after dinner and I was alone in the flat, with only Morrison for company. I knew what he thought, that the harder I got caned and the more I was humiliated the better, and of course he was right. He was always right, the voice of my true conscience.

I let him fuck me, mounted up on my bottom with the big dildo up my cunt, which gave me a wonderful orgasm, but it wasn’t enough. What I needed was Magnus, a good beating and then hard rude sex in front of the two girls, maybe with them too. The possibilities were superb, and I was praying everybody would get on, enjoying the show, and me. Just to think about it had me shaking, and I didn’t bother to get dressed again once Morrison was done with me, but spent most of the day in the nude.

At four o’clock I began to get ready, depilating my bottom and cunt, showering, checking my legs and nails, all the little details I’d have attended to if I was going to a ball. I took plenty of time with my hair, combing it out then piling it onto the top of my head, with a sapphire clasp to keep it in place. My make-up took longer still, applied with loving care, until I was every inch a queen, as my mother would have described it, and, if the reason I was taking so much trouble would have horrified her, that was her fault for teaching me the meaning of shame.

I was duly grateful, as nothing, but nothing had given me so much pleasure over the years, and it looked as if the evening ahead was going to provide a deeper, more shameful experience than ever before. Looking at myself in the mirror really brought that home, immaculate and poised for all my nudity, until I turned around to expose my rear view with the now fading bruises betraying the fact that I’d been beaten for sex. Now it was going to happen again.

My drawers contained several sets of underwear I’d never worn, including a complete set in pale cream, all silk and lace; a bra with full round cups, knickers that hugged my bottom like a second skin, a broad six-strap suspender belt and fully fashioned stockings. I put it on item by item in front of the mirror, thinking of how each piece would be revealed as I was readied for punishment, my modesty and dignity slowly stripped away to leave me all boobs and bum and cunt.

The dress made the image stronger by far, providing a cool aloof beauty in stark contrast to what was about to happen to me. White silk shoes added the final touch, lifting me to an inch under six foot, so that I’d be as tall or taller than most men, although not Magnus, not by a very long way. A small clasp bag for my essentials and I was ready, with just enough time to ensure that I got to the warehouse at precisely seven o’clock.

Only Security saw me leave. I was sure I could feel the envy and lust in their eyes as they watched my retreating back, no doubt imagining how it would be to strip me out of my pretty dress and put me across the front desk for a good rough spit-roasting. They had no idea, and I couldn’t resist turning to favour them with a quiet smile as I went through the doors. Outside, the night was cool and I picked up my pace as I crossed the plaza, my heels clicking on the flagstones.

The walk seemed to last forever, even though it was just minutes, but at last I found myself pushing in at the warehouse door, where Magnus was standing in a space he’d cleared among the pallets. He was in his overalls, a working man to my princess, and in his hands he held the long dark cane with which I was to be beaten. Charlie and Stacey were there too, seated together on the couch that normally occupied his office, each with a glass of wine in her hand. They had music on, a Mozart piano concerto.

Magnus wasted no time, pointing at the very centre of the cleared space, where he’d marked out two crosses with yellow tape. ‘Stand there, Lucinda.’

I obeyed, already blushing as I got into position, looking up into his ice-blue eyes as he lifted my chin under one finger.

‘Six of the best, Lucinda, bare bottom.’

‘Yes, sir.’