School Reunion Year 3 Read online

  ‘You were on…’

  ‘The train,’ she said, and they both laughed together.

  ‘I wouldn’t even want to begin to calculate the statistical probability of that happening in a city of eight million souls,’ smiled Richard.

  ‘Serendipity, or just coincidence?’ Lauren wondered aloud.

  ‘Whoa, too philosophical for me at this time of day,’ he replied. ‘But fortunately I can fix computers. What seems to be the trouble?’

  The trouble, it transpired, was a software glitch which had frozen Lauren’s PC and threatened to bring down the whole office network. Richard took a seat at her desk. ‘This may take a little while to rectify,’ he said, flicking confidently through icons Lauren never knew existed. ‘At the risk of sounding sexist, any chance you could get some coffee? My treat,’ he added hastily.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’ll take more than that to make me feel put upon,’ she said warmly, ‘but thanks for the thought. I’ll pop down to the patisserie on the corner and be back in ten minutes, if that’s all right.’

  When she returned as promised the problem was well on the way to being solved. ‘Good news,’ said Richard. ‘As I thought, it’s not a hardware meltdown, just a bit of dodgy software.’

  ‘You mean a virus?’ Lauren asked in alarm.

  ‘No, just some poorly written codes. It looks as if someone,’ he looked meaningfully at Lauren, ‘might have imported a programme from one of those free discs you get with computer magazines.’ Receiving no immediate reply he took to be mute confirmation that his diagnosis was correct.

  ‘I assume you wanted it to open those two picture files you downloaded onto the hard drive,’ he continued conversationally.

  The colour drained from Lauren’s face as quickly as it had arrived moments before. Prudently maintaining her silence she sat down heavily. ‘Probably not the sort of thing you’d accidentally want to email to a colleague,’ Richard went on breezily, ‘so I’ve stored the images on a floppy instead. And better than that,’ he added triumphantly, ‘I’ve opened them. Come and look.’

  ‘Erm, I,’ gasped Lauren.

  ‘Ah, good, your power of speech has returned, but not as we humans know it,’ he observed with a grin, and taking her hand he pulled her towards him to see for herself. There, on the flat screen, were two exceedingly frank pictures. In one a slender blonde girl wearing nothing more than a skimpy T-shirt and short white socks lay across the knee of a muscular tattooed young man. Judging from his raised hand and the reddened state of her bottom she’d been in situ for some time. The other showed a sophisticated older woman, kneeling, skirt raised, upon an upright chair, knickers at half-mast, her buttocks framed by stockings and suspenders, who was casting an anxious look over her shoulder at a stern, grey-haired male determinedly lifting a cane to shoulder height.

  ‘I, um, that is…’ stammered Lauren.

  ‘You don’t have to justify yourself to me,’ said Richard. ‘Plenty of people take private pleasure from the Internet; it harms nobody, unless of course narrow-minded workmates, or even managers, happen to find it. I’m just a bit surprised you didn’t store these images on your home PC.’

  ‘My laptop’s playing up as well,’ said Lauren, feeling utterly embarrassed. ‘I thought I could get in early and just print them here. Still,’ she added, brightening slightly, ‘at least you fixed it, and quickly, too.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Richard murmured thoughtfully, ‘if I guess correctly my presence today is a piece of unapproved expenditure that you’ve taken upon yourself to organise.’ Sensing the ominous turn the conversation was taking Lauren’s initial relief was proving premature, and much to his enjoyment she pouted dejectedly. ‘Don’t panic,’ he offered reassuringly, ‘I mean, look at the number of CP sites and communities on the web, someone must be looking at them. Didn’t you ever think you might not be alone?’

  ‘Well yes,’ said Lauren shakily, ‘but I didn’t expect to meet someone…’

  ‘Like this?’ replied Richard, raising an eyebrow. ‘Why not? Spanking’s a broad church, encompassing people from all walks of life; publishers, computer engineers…’

  ‘You’re unusually well informed on the subject,’ she observed suspiciously.

  ‘You’d be surprised what opportunities this job sometimes turns up,’ Richard replied purposefully.

  ‘Oh yes,’ replied Lauren, recovering her equilibrium and with more than a trace of sarcasm, ‘that’s all very neat, isn’t it?’ Her face remained pale but her eyes gleamed with determination, evidence of the steely qualities that had originally earned her this managerial post. ‘And I suppose, caught red-handed, I’ve to accept whatever punishment you choose… or face public exposure.’

  ‘Blackmail, you mean?’ Richard replied smoothly. This was getting more interesting by the minute; a feisty personality was always so much more of a challenge. ‘But of course, that’s the whole point. Coercion forces you to acquiesce to something you’d be too inhibited to otherwise consider. This is your “get out of jail free” card, Lauren. Whatever happens it’s not your fault; you were made to do it.’

  ‘So you’ll just have to give the naughty girl a spanking,’ she responded testily. ‘How persuasive, how convenient. But maybe your plan’s based on shaky assumptions? I might want to give, not receive. I could be seeking a female to female encounter, or I may even have chanced upon the site by accident.’

  ‘Unlikely,’ said Richard, annoyingly un-phased by this quick-thinking riposte. ‘For all the tabloid hysteria CP site operators want to attract adults with money, not juveniles and bad publicity, so they don’t make accessing easy so people can’t just innocently stumble upon the contents. And if you’d wanted to thrash some wimpy bloke there are plenty of fem/dom sites.’

  ‘And the girl to girl option?’ Lauren grasped at a straw.

  ‘As yet untested,’ admitted Richard, ‘but for all that bravado the fact remains I’ve called your bluff. In fact,’ he added, advancing slowly towards her, ‘I reckon I’ve got you almost exactly where I want you.’

  The next ten seconds would be crucial, giving her ample opportunity to come out as a lesbian, order him angrily from the premises, or even apply a swift kick to the bollocks.

  Fortunately Lauren did none of these things. Unknown to Richard he’d already been subjected to a rapid evaluation, his physical attributes speedily weighed in the balance - just the sort of objectification women so often complain about - and had he but known it the interim results were encouraging. Put simply, to Lauren he looked and sounded like a man confident enough to take charge. Well, he’d get a run for his money, but should Richard prevail she was self-confident enough to believe he’d think the prize worth winning.

  She expressed outrage, but not too loudly, as he dragged her towards him. She struggled, but not too violently, as he firmly pulled her down across his lap. ‘Get off!’ she cried vehemently, almost convincing herself, fists flailing and legs kicking in an impressive display of temper.

  To no avail whatsoever, because with practiced ease Richard pinned her wrists into the small of her back and stilled her feet with a leg across her calves, which still left one hand free to unhurriedly raise the hem of her skirt.

  ‘Nooo…’ groaned Lauren, wriggling her hips, the only part of her body still capable of mobility. Unfortunately this had the opposite effect to that intended, conveniently enabling him to drag the material up around her waist.

  ‘Hmm, unusual these days,’ commented Richard, idly twanging a taut suspender strap.

  ‘Practical,’ contradicted Lauren, her face only inches from the polished wood floor. ‘I always have to be smart for clients, and stockings are cooler in the summer.’

  ‘So the fact that they render an already stunning pair of pins even sexier wouldn’t enter into it, then?’ asked Richard.

  ‘Of course not,’ she growled through gritted teeth.

  ‘Liar,’ he replied, decisively delivering a crisp smack to the seat of her tightly stretched knic
kers.

  ‘Oww, not fair,’ wailed Lauren

  ‘Sorry, you’re right of course,’ said Richard, punctuating the sentence with a similar ringing slap to the opposite cheek, ‘I should explain my rules.’

  ‘Rules?’

  ‘Answer untruthfully or withhold information and the smacks get harder.’ Slap!

  ‘Oww, okay, message received and understood. Oh that smarts, all right, I’ll tell the truth.’

  ‘Which is…?’

  ‘I’ve been told I’ve got good legs.’

  ‘By whom?’

  ‘Boyfriends,’ Lauren paused, ‘lovers.’

  ‘Indeed? And did they also mention you’ve a perfect peach of an arse?’

  ‘No.’ Slap! Slap! ‘Oh stop, ow, yes, but not in those words.’

  ‘Full and firm,’ Richard said reverentially, ‘I can’t wait to see it with your knickers down.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh yes, when I’ve made the surrounding area a uniformly pretty pink we’ll have these panties out of the way and start your punishment proper.’

  ‘Nooooo,’ cried Lauren, suddenly and painfully aware she’d no choice but to endure.

  For the next five minutes her thoughts were fully occupied with the increasing heat suffusing her hindquarters. Although she continued to writhe across Richard’s lap, all the while loudly complaining, her struggles diminished to manageable proportions enabling him to release her wrists and ankles.

  Eventually, sharply aware that his palm was beginning to sting, Richard elected to end Lauren’s baptism of fire by peppering her pert posterior with a rapid volley of stinging slaps. ‘Yeeeow, oh please, I don’t think I can take much more,’ she wailed.

  ‘Nonsense, I’ve only just begun,’ came the crisp reply.

  ‘Can’t take much more of this position,’ pleaded Lauren, anxious for any compromise, however slight, ‘my back hurts and I’m fed up with staring at the floorboards.’

  ‘In which case,’ he replied, helping her shakily to her feet, ‘I suggest you emulate the second of the images which led you to take such a ridiculous risk and kneel on this chair.’

  Lauren needed no second bidding, and once there turned to look over her shoulder. ‘Ohhh,’ she gasped ruefully, ‘no wonder my poor bum’s stinging so much, you’ve smacked it bright red.’

  ‘Not as red as it’s going to be,’ he countered throatily as he grasped the silky material around her loins, ‘but let’s take a closer look…’

  ‘Don’t you dare.’ Lauren reached frantically back to try and halt the inevitable downward journey of her knickers.

  ‘No, don’t you dare.’ Richard’s voice was raised as he slapped the back of each of her thighs, and Lauren snatched her hands away with a cry of anguish. Undeterred, he held her firmly around the waist and immediately recommenced spanking, this time with increased intensity for her temerity in trying to bring proceedings to a premature halt.

  Poor Lauren, her bottom felt as if it were ablaze, white finger-marks had become visible upon the glowing red of her gyrating buttocks, her feet and hands drummed futilely in protest at this unexpected onslaught. Satisfied he’d made his point, Richard abruptly changed tempo, stroking her hot-to-the-touch cheeks and drawing gasps of pleasure from her at this welcome respite.

  Tentatively his other hand dropped from her waist, brushing across the curly down of her triangle, detecting the first signs of the telltale dampness there. Flushed and panting Lauren moaned in response to this fleeting caress, rolling her hips in silent invitation. Delicately Richard’s finger sought out the deep moist valley between her thighs, deftly tracing the emerging bud of her clitoris, all the while stroking her burnished globes. ‘Mmmmm, ah,’ sighed Lauren, as a fingertip invaded her engorged labia.

  ‘Good?’ enquired Richard, with a smile.

  ‘So, uh, intense,’ she whispered, lifting her hips to impale him deeper. ‘My bum’s sore, but my fanny is…’

  ‘Wet,’ agreed Richard. ‘Yes, that’s a common side affect of a well-smacked bottom. ‘Now, I’d like you to stand up, kick your knickers right off and sit on the edge of the desk.’

  All her resistance was now completely quelled, and not taking those olive eyes off her tormentor for a second, she did as he ordered, wincing as her smarting derrière came into contact with the smooth, cold wooden surface.

  In one single practiced movement Richard caught her behind the knees and tipped her backwards across the desktop, ankles high, buttocks on the very edge, blazing bottom and pouting pussy both rudely exposed to view.

  ‘What are you…? Oh!’ Lauren’s enquiry died on her lips as Richard’s intentions became abundantly clear. Holding her behind each knee he spread her thighs wide, ducked down and darted his tongue into her juicy vagina. Lauren’s hips bucked and jerked in a parody of penetration as he adroitly applied his mouth to her hidden secrets, bringing her to the brink of a climax before cruelly pulling away.

  ‘The American’s call this the “diaper” position,’ he observed matter-of-factly, ‘and as you’re now only too aware it leaves your most private parts defenceless - perfectly presented, in fact. I can access all areas, pleasuring or punishing your inner thighs and buttocks,’ he allowed a dramatic pause before continuing with deliberate crudity, ‘cunt or arsehole, on a whim.’

  ‘For instance, I can just as easily smack this naughty little pussy,’ his fingers gently slapped her sopping pubic mound, creating jolts of sensory electricity, ‘or plunder hidden delights,’ another digit circled the tightly puckered ring of her virgin anus.

  ‘Nooo,’ she whimpered in alarm, struggling helplessly in his strong grip.

  ‘Or,’ he continued, ignoring the protest but transferring his attentions elsewhere, ‘simply screw you. Now, which is it to be?’

  ‘I… I…’ stammered Lauren, caught indecisively between lust and trepidation.

  ‘Can’t decide?’ Richard pressed. ‘Shame, perhaps a few hard strokes with my belt would help concentrate your mind.’

  ‘No, please,’ Lauren almost shrieked, ‘my bum’s too tender, please, fuck me.’ Her hand grabbed urgently at the front of his trousers. ‘Fuck me now.’

  Which he did, and knees pressed back against her breasts, hands clutching his shoulders, Lauren came almost as soon as she felt him sink deep inside her.

  Later, inner thighs damp, fidgeting and unable to sit comfortably, Lauren clasped his hand on the tube journey home.

  ‘That was amazing,’ she said wholeheartedly.

  ‘The best yet,’ Richard agreed.

  ‘Unquestionably; doing it at work and the possibility of being caught adds such a frisson,’ Lauren almost purred at the recent recollection.

  ‘You were very convincing,’ he said sincerely.

  ‘And you were very severe,’ she responded haughtily, squirming on the seat, ‘that’s a much harder spanking than I’ve ever had at home.’

  ‘The more aroused you become, the more you can take,’ averred Richard, with a meaningful smile.

  ‘Hmm,’ she considered this for several seconds, ‘painful but true.’

  ‘When we get in I’ll rub some soothing cream all over that beautiful, burning bum of yours,’ he added solicitously.

  ‘Sounds great, do a good job and it’ll be my turn to go down on you.’ Lauren’s eyes shone at the prospect.

  ‘I can’t wait,’ he said truthfully, ‘so, how about a clandestine visit to my office next weekend?’

  ‘You’re on,’ she agreed without hesitation.

  ‘In which case,’ he said, smiling, ‘we’ve a date, Mrs Henson.’

  -oOo-

  Enjoy more erotic spanking stories by Laurel Aspen in Managing Mrs Burton, also exclusively published as an eBook by us:

  Every stroke produced a frantic, immodest weaving of hips and drumming of toes, but Mrs Burton somehow managed to maintain her stance, keeping some shred of decorum as her curvaceous bottom was soundly whipped.

  ‘Well done,’ he said, ‘you took
that caning very well, now stay exactly where you are and I’ll reward your fortitude.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Mrs Burton replied huskily, ‘that would be lovely.’

  In town and in the country, in offices and suburban semis, women have been getting their first spanking. Reluctantly, hesitantly, sometimes forcibly; some even discovering a taste for further punishment. Perhaps that’s why the woman sat next to you on the train is smiling?

  Over-confident career women are tamed and petulant young wives receive a stinging comeuppance in this compelling collection of short stories written by Laurel Aspen, who may well have been present at the time…

  -oOo-

  And as mentioned in the intro pages of this short story collection, if you’re a published author of erotic fiction and have existing work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to you, we would love to hear from you.

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