The New Receptionist

“You’re going to be mad at me,” Linda began tentatively.

“Oh? Do I get mad? And why would that be?” he queried.

“I guess I listened to some gossip today,” she admitted.

“Well, can’t be helped sometimes.” Her nervousness was palatable. In fact, it reminded him of her own sweet taste. “And I suppose,” he continued evenly, “that you didn’t tell whoever it was that you didn’t approve of gossip?”

“No... ..” Linda whined quietly.

“As long as you didn’t repeat it,” she next heard him say. He could be such a bastard at times like these! Linda knew she should discourage gossip in others, but it was too hard. She didn’t feel strong enough to take a stand against such a commonplace activity. He knew and accepted that, though perhaps grudgingly. Still, she shifted nervously from one foot to the other, pressing her lips together. The knowledge that his eyes were on her held her transfixed as he kept her in his predator’s gaze, motionless, soundless, infinitely patient.

“You’re going to be mad at me,” Linda started again, almost as a cry. He waited. The silence beat down on her, accusing, demanding.

“You know Jenae, the receptionist? Barry said he recognized her from the Deja Vu - that she used to work there. As a stripper,” the words poured from her, and she felt the immense relief of releasing this secret. “He was telling Tom, and then Linda asked me what he was talking about and so I told her... .”

“And then the two of you laughed,” he condemned. Oh, how she wished she could correct him! For once tell him “No! We didn’t! You don’t know!” But of course she couldn’t. Not this time, not ever, it sometimes seemed. He always seemed to know, always seemed to be right. From the start he had known she would have repeated it, he had only been waiting for her to say so directly. Why couldn’t he save her the anguish? From the first sentence it was only a matter of how quickly she would get them to her punishment.

“Stand,” he spat. Her chair slid backward on the vinyl floor, then slid further as his leg brushed it to the side. He reached his arms around her and she longed for an embrace, got one even as he pressed her to him with his forearms, but all the while unfastening her slacks. From where he stood he couldn’t see her pout or the wrinkles that creased her brow.

Yank! inverted the top of her slacks, encasing her upper thighs in a second layer of blue. The hem of her white blouse rose as his hand sternly sought the waistband of her panties. A firm motion flipped them inside-out, trapping her in too many layers of fabric and the overpowering wave of disapproval that his roughness communicated like an endless shout. I’m sorry, a small voice inside of her begged. Really, please, I am sorry.... It would be okay, she knew, once she had been spanked.

He hooked an ankle around the chair leg and drew the chair under him. Sitting down hard, he toppled her onto his lap even as she scrambled for some kind of balance, some grip on something, anything.

“How much?” he demanded.

“Not, I guess,” she cringed in reply. The words were barely out of her mouth when the first spanks assailed her bottom. She was too far forward, she panicked, and feared she would fall - she couldn’t stand that, she would be embarrassed, humiliated. She didn’t want to do anything else he might not like, not even being clumsy, she wanted to behave for him and earn his approval back. She spread her arms out widely just as she felt him tug her strongly and more securely toward him. Now she was safe.

Safe, but spanked. He spanked firmly, insistently, with the sting and the slap growing and even as it did, so did its relentlessness. A few little sounds, the combination of a whine and a grunt, escaped her as she screwed her eyes shut and tried to accept what he gave her.

All too soon it was over, and he was standing her upright. She had asked for not very much, and she guessed she deserved it. When she got her spanking, it would hurt. It should. She peeked at his face and withered under his glower.

“I’m sorry,” she couldn’t help saying aloud.

“We’ll talk,” he promised, his severity ordering her into silence. “Walk!”

With him supporting her, she made her way to the bedroom, her arm around his shoulders, his around her waist. The hesitation in her steps was not entirely due to her dread of what awaited her - though her blouse covered her modestly, the ridiculousness of her costume remained. Her bottom was hot and sore but comforted by the swing of the soft fabric that curtained it.

As she was led toward the dresser, rather than the bed, she wordlessly accepted her fate.

“Stand,” he said once again, releasing her. He picked up the hairbrush and the insides of her legs shook slightly. There had never been any question, really, that he would use it, that she would get it.

“What,” he demanded, “does Jenae think of you?”

“She thinks I’m a nice person,” Linda squeaked.

“And she likes to think you’re a friend of hers, doesn’t she?” he went on.

“Yes?”

“And then Barry told Tom she was a stripper. Is that right?” God, why did he have to ask, it’s not like he’d forget - he remembers everything! “And Linda got involved and you wanted to show that you knew... ” Did she? Was there some of that? Sometimes, Linda knew, she did that. Did she do that today? But he had gone on. “And you had a good laugh about her, how she used to strip in clubs. And maybe you figured that wasn’t all she did - did either of you think of that?”

“Tom.”

“What?”

“Tom did. He thought of that. He said something, you know, some expression, you know... .”

“I know? I wasn’t listening to this. How would I know?”

Linda was confused. Tears filled her eyes and voice.

“You said... didn’t you? I don’t know!”

“Linda, look at me,” he ordered. It was a struggle to comply.

“This is about you. And Linda. Except Linda isn’t going to be spanked with a hairbrush until she can’t stand, let alone sit. You told Linda what you had heard.” He was looking deeply into her eyes. She couldn’t stand it! He was reading her mind! It wasn’t fair! “You told her what you had heard and the two of you thought it was funny.” Stop! Stop! No! Don’t do this! “Linda? Tell me.”

“We thought it was funny. Because... because... well, she’s so bony! And her butt’s got that strange shape... ” It did! Of course he wouldn’t see it.

“Strange shape? Like flattened? By a hairbrush? What do you think she was caught gossiping about?”

Linda looked at him, wondering if he was expecting an answer. His expression made it clear that he was.

“I don’t know! Nothing!”

“And you don’t think you could have returned the favor?” The power of his voice shook her.

I said I’m sorry, she wanted to scream. Can’t I just be spanked now? Spanked and spanked and then held and have this forgotten about?

A strong grip seized her above the elbow, another on her wrist. She hated this part. She hated a lot of these parts, but this was one of them. Stumblingly she was steered toward the corner.

“I want you to think,” he said, just as he always did. “I want you to stand and think. I want you to think about the fact that Jenae is going to hear that gossip is going around about her. She is sure to find out. I want you to think how happy she’d be to hear that you would not participate in such a thing. That she had a friend who stood up for her.”

Linda looked at him in amazement. He could always bring her to tears with nothing more than disapproval.

“But that isn’t what she will be feeling, will she? Instead she’ll be hurt. Disappointed. Mad at herself! Because once again she got her hopes up only to find out she was wrong.” In his words this little office situation had become a tragedy. Linda felt herself crumbling under his censure. Her mind spun, trying to focus on how much of this had really happened, how much damage she had already done, pain she had already caused. “Think!” he commanded, turning her into the corner and removing himself.

Linda made a mistake. She made the mistake of doing what she was told. She thought. Thought of Jenae smiling, being nice to her, being glad to see her. Thought of Jenae quitting, crying, wondering where her life would ever go. Oh God, she was evil! Just evil! What a spanking she would have to get!

After a long time, he returned - too soon. No words now, an arm around her waist, laid upon the bed, flat. He knelt on the bed next to her, his calf against her side. Almost automatically she guided her arm between his legs and he lowered himself onto it, trapping her, holding her. On the other side his fingers sought hers and intertwined as he raised their hands to her shoulder. Her blouse was already halfway up and he arranged it further out of harm’s way. She felt so exposed like this! Almost as if she would be violated somehow. She much preferred to run around in nothing but panties (when the curtains were drawn) - his frank admiration of her assured her like a hug, and when she slipped on a pair of pumps he looked at her as if she was the chicest woman on Fifth Avenue. But this, there was something obscene about this type of exposure.

His hand came down hard, and fast. This position was not the best, she wasn’t bent at all, just flat and exposed. The spanks just hurt, nothing else. Some landed oddly, somehow making her sad. She wished she could be held across his knee. I want to be good, she thought, and tried to stay still, knowing it would be over far too soon. The earlier warm-up was repeated, harder this time but just as short - very little preparation for what was to come.

“Do you want to be spanked as if the gossip you spread was true, or not true?” he asked her. His question panicked her - she hated decisions, she always chose the wrong answer. She never considered that it wasn’t true, it must be true, Barry sounded sure, he had been there, seen her.

“True?” she dared, cringing, trying to cross her legs in hope since her fingers were not available.

The first swat of the hairbrush surprised her so completely that she almost didn’t hear what he was saying. The second made her gasp and curl. Her legs weren’t held, so she tried to curl them away, which directed her punishment to her right, uppermost cheek. This soon flattened her again until he had caught up on her left. It hurt. A lot.

“So it’s true. But Jenae is not a stripper. She is a receptionist. Doesn’t that tell you something about her?” He brought the brush down in a more across direction than up and down and she just opened her mouth wide, trying to let the pain out. His speed and power had frozen her crying for an instant as her whole body protested, until in the space of swat the sobs broke from her.

“Jenae is trying to leave one life and start a better one. Do you think she has a reason for that? Besides a funny looking butt?” Linda thought he had been being brutal but with this remark she discovered she was wrong - up until now. No matter how she kicked, no matter how her ribs twisted and jumped, the swats found their mark faster than she could absorb them. And when they didn’t land on target they were replaced by half a dozen more attempts, many which were all too successful! She threw her head from side to side but from shoulder to hip she was pinned to him where he knelt.

“So for some reason she doesn’t deserve your help? Or do you think she’d rather be reminded of what she used to do?” The high-up swats hurt so badly, chopping down like a hatchet on the upper slopes of her poor buns! The more she ran, the more ways he found to make it hurt worse. Oh, God, please stop! Please stop and hold me!

Linda felt him throw down the hairbrush and release her even as she gulped huge breaths to try to calm her hysteria. His arm behind her knees curled her legs over his lap and soon his hard hand had returned. He found places he had missed. He found places he had not missed. He spanked upward and connected solidly with her poor sore buns. He spanked upward and barely topped the crests of her cheeks. Some stung. Some hurt. He held her tighter and his aim improved, pushing her back toward hysteria.

And then he stopped. Just stopped. It took her a moment to know it. His arm went back across her knees while the other slid under her shoulders.

Linda cried into his collar. They stayed like that for a long time.

Then he started to kiss her face.

The End