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She felt no shame as she stood naked in front of him. She was thoroughly excited. Her bottom was red, her clit was swollen, her nipples hard, and she wanted more. She could not wait to find out what he would do to her next. She dropped her head to the floor to submit to him. Oh, look, dear.” Mrs Foster smiled. “I do loathe it when someone wears the same dress—especially when that someone is young, pretty, and wears it beautifully.” She cursed her body for its excited response to his offer. Her pussy was soaking. “How often?” she asked. “I could not tolerate such a beating every night.” It is soundproofed,” he said. “You can scream and cry, and no one will hear you.” He smiled at her alarm. “I mean that in the least creepy way possible.” Layla changed reluctantly into her bar uniform, refreshed her make-up, and made her way out of the office. Mr Larson was leaving the kitchen armed with a microwaved meal as she walked towards the exit. “Goodnight, Mr Larson,” she said.

Layla had finished serving a group of office workers when she noticed another customer waiting on his own. She caught her breath. Layla was thrilled to have left the bar job. She had hated it. She had hated how she never got a day off, she hated that she was always exhausted, and she hated that the penny-pinching Aaron took every error in her till—even when she confirmed she had added items by mistake and the money was right—from her wages. She felt no guilt in leaving Aaron down a member of staff, though she hoped it would not make life too difficult for her colleagues. Before she could reply, the Fosters called to them. Mr Larson brightened, and Layla smothered her anger. She managed to avoid speaking to him for the rest of the day. Mr Larson appeared happy that he managed to sign a few more contracts with the Fosters to increase supplies to more of his branches. Mike had Layla speak in German with one of his associates. Mr Weber was very impressed and said Layla’s passable German was impeccable. Mike invited Layla to attend a meeting to translate for some of his clients. Layla hadn’t realised what she was getting herself into when she agreed to allow her boss to discipline her for her lateness. Little did she know she would awaken a need for domination and punishment. Nor did she expect to discover the thrill she felt when she allowed the fierce and intense Mr Larson to spank her.He was dressed in a designer suit, which no doubt cost a month’s salary. He looked very handsome, but did he really expect her to spend that kind of money on an outfit for one dinner? He smiled. “It’s all I need to do. All that I cannot fulfil elsewhere. It is hard to find a woman who will tolerate this. But, it arouses me, and if you wish, there can be a sexual element.”

Layla moaned loudly as she made herself come. She had not orgasmed so well in a long time and still felt incredibly turned on. She ignored the temptation to play more and cleaned up to ready herself for sleep. The day went faster than usual, and Layla became increasingly filled with dread. She barely touched her lunch. She had managed to complete a lot of work and had secured a new client for the company, over her lunch break no less, who would bring in a few thousand extra each month. She hoped Mr Larson would be pleased, and he would ease off her a little. She wondered if he had thought about her. Whether he had masturbated to the thought of her. Whether he wanted to take her.Perhaps he always does it. Perhaps all the girls in the company have had a spanking from him. He does keep spanking implements in his office. I didn’t want to,” he said. “Be on your best behaviour, and I’ll pay you. You’ve proven you can be good for money.” Thank you, sir.” She glanced around the hallway. The house was beautiful, though it did not seem to be decorated the way she would expect a young man’s home to be. “Your home is beautiful.”

Several types of good are exempt from being returned. Any item used, or worn, Lingerie, Breast Forms with a broken seal, or that have been used. Wigs, Adhesive/Remover or any undergarments (panties, bra, etc.) cannot be returned. While you are in my home, you will obey my commands. However, if you wish the proceedings to stop then use the safe word ‘red,’ if you would like things to continue, but less intensely then the word ‘amber’ can be used. All pleas such as ‘stop’, ‘no’, ‘don’t’ etc. will be ignored, and I will assume you wish to continue if you do not use the safe words. That said, I will closely look for signs that you are distressed or receiving an excess of pain. Do not hesitate to use the safe words—there will be no repercussions for using them. His hand felt incredible as he rubbed her stinging skin. She raised her bottom into his hand to encourage him to do it more. Mr Larson smiled hungrily and pulled her over his knee. After warming her skin with his hand he began to beat her with the sandal. Layla moaned as her bottom burned. She thought for a moment. She did not want him to hurt her, but she wanted to feel punished. She wanted to please him. “Ten strokes with the paddle, sir.”

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Then the woodshed whuppin evolved again. It still means getting one of the worst spankings of my life, but now she’s expanded beyond just using the belt and razor strap. Sometimes it is just the belt, sometimes it is a paddle or water soaked cane (one of the worse things ever), and sometimes it is a combination of 2 or 3 of her meanest implements. It just depends on what she feels like using that day or night. But no matter what she decides on using, it still remains a punishment, deterrent and attitude adjustment that will be remembered for a while.

She sighed. “Look, I was intrigued and excited by what you offered—the money was a bonus. I think I would have gone along with it anyway if you hadn’t treated me like you did afterwards.”

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There was this one day I had to go to the bathroom, but then a couple of my friends were jump-roping and asked me to join in. Apparently, I was so excited to jump rope that I completely forgot I had to go to the bathroom. While one of my friends was jump roping, she messed up and fell. I started laughing my head off...until I started to feel wet. When it was time to leave, my friend whispered in my ear, "Amanda, not to embarrass you or anything, but you are wet....in the 'bottom' area of your jeans..." At once I felt my face turn into a tomato, I ran to the bathroom to find a huge wet spot on my butt! As embarrassing as that is, I had to go the rest of the day with a big spot on my jeans. I have a blasted degree, and I can’t do anything with it. Perhaps I can retrain. What about teaching? No, how will I pay my debts? Mr Larson led them from his car to the picnic area and carried a hamper with him. He met several people he knew.