Wednesday, 22 December 2010

S.P.A.N.K.S. (call centre motivation) Part 4

Laila, on her flight back to Singapore, realised that her uncle was right about not implementing the S.P.A.N.K.S. program in the western branches of the company. She had let herself be talked into it by Simon, one of her performance advisors. It was a decision that she was now regretting, and a decision that she knew she would be regretting even more later today. Her uncle, the C.E.O. of the company, had requested that Laila came straight to the offices from the airport, a pattern that seemed to be becoming part of life at the moment, airport, office and then sleep. The constant travelling was starting to take it's toll on her humour, and making her fall into a deep, dark, foul mood. Sleep on the flight had more or less evaded her, all she could think of was how much her department had lost face with this debacle at the British office. The consequences she tried not to think of, but the harder she tried, the more the thoughts came into her head. She had to take action as soon as she got to head office, if she could prove to her uncle that she had things all under control, perhaps he would not take matters further. It was a slim hope, but it was her only real hope. Her uncles main concerns about the S.P.A.N.K.S. program had been threefold, the litigious nature of the U.S.A. and British employment laws, the fear of the company being sued for either constructive dismissal or assault, the worries of the program coming under the eyes of the tabloid press, and the bad publicity that would bring. To Lailas' eyes though his most odd concern was that of the so called 'English vice', how some of the Anglos, both British and American seem to take sexual gratification from corporal punishment. Coming from her uncle this seemed to be the most strange of his objections. Laila knew only too well of her uncles fascination with corporal punishment, being brought up by him since her early teens, she had seen and felt how her uncle ruled his household with, if not a rod of iron, certainly a rod of bamboo. Family members and servants were all liable to summary punishments for any indiscretions. Of course in Malaysia that in itself was not that unusual, but it was her uncles keenness to administer punishments that was unusual. So she knew that she would have to act quickly, and harshly to save herself, no matter how that effected those around her. In a way it pained her to know that Simon would have to be the sacrificial lamb, also though she hated to admit it even to herself it also excited her. Maybe it was in her family genes, or perhaps she had just spent too long in her uncles presence. For whatever the reason though, the idea of dumping the blame of the whole shambles onto Simon gave her a heady rush.

Upon reaching the office block at around nine thirty, Laila went straight to her office ignoring all the members of staff that she passed on her way. This morning was not a day for inconsequential pleasantries, this morning was a day for action, act now and save herself was her only thought. Well almost her only thought, Simon's coming admonishment was also figuring high in her consciousness. Laila took off her powder blue suit jacket and hung it over the back of her chair, she then went to her private bathroom at the side of her office. The bathroom was not just a pointless privilege handed out to the top executives, it had the purpose of enabling the 'top brass' of the company to work longer hours and not have to worry about personal hygiene. As always her uncle was very practical, even in the handing out of perceived perks. Laila unbuttoned her white blouse and removed it, then set about washing her face and upper body, feeling gritty from her long journey she decides that a full body wash is in order. She locks the door from the inside, not that anyone would dare enter her bathroom but better safe than sorry. She then strips completely and enters her power shower, as she cleanses herself the events of the last few days come to her mind. Thinking of the events in England as she soaps herself. Thinking of Jane Murray, the middle aged office manager having to bare her bottom and bend over her own desk, to receive a paddling from a girl almost young enough to be her daughter. Laila felt her nipples becoming harder as she soaped her breasts. She thought back to the photos too, they had both angered and excited Laila. To be stripped and punished so publicly, exquisite she thought to herself, as she soaped her belly, then lower still. She puts the shower onto massage, takes the head in her hands and starts to rinse the soap from her body. Eyes closed, a mixture of jet-lag and half forgotten feelings from her youth takes her mind drifting off to other places. Jane red-faced and shamed, unbuttoning her trousers for a paddling, her face the picture of anger. Then she day dreamed of how Jane will get her revenge on her sales staff. What was that girls name?.... Caroline. What will her fate be Laila wondered? Then she heard gasping, it brought her back to the room in a start. She realised the gasping was from her own mouth, as the pulsing columns of warm water from the shower head beat at her upper thighs and pussy. She was seconds away from orgasm as she pulled the head away from her sex. "Later". She told herself. Stepping from the shower, she grabbed a towel and dabbed herself dry, the rough of the cloth further irritating already sensitive areas of her body. "Later." She told her reflection in the mirror. Going to the small wardrobe where she kept emergency change of clothes, she opened the underwear drawer and picked out a pair of plain full cut white panties, and a white bra. She pondered the drawer a little longer, then decided against pantyhose, if things went wrong today they would only be something else she would have to lower. That thought sent a shiver through her body, it was one thing to give out humiliating corporal punishments, another thing all together though to receive one. She dressed quickly, trying to drive that thought from her mind, if all goes well she should escape it, depending of course on her uncle's humour. Now though to the matter in hand, Simon as the scapegoat. Laila picked up her phone and dialled. "Mr. Manners could you pop into my office please, straight away if possible."

Simon Manners smiled as he placed the phone back onto it's cradle, and headed towards Laila's office. Upon entering an unbidden Simon took the seat in front of Laila's desk.

Laila arched her finely trimmed black eyebrows, for her and her uncle the height of protocol should always be kept at work. Simon caught the look in her eyes and smiled, the smile soon disappeared as he realised it was not being returned to him.

"Mr. Manners I have just returned from England as you know," Laila said in her most business like voice, and the puzzled Simon nodded. "things in the British outpost of our company are not good. As a matter of fact they are quite bad, it all stems from the S.P.A.N.K.S. program. As you are aware this program being introduced to the western hemisphere of our companies was always of concern to me and Mr. Toi." Simon made to interrupt, but before he could even speak Laila held her hand up to silence him. "The program has been implemented very badly, and could be a cause of concern in public relationships, possibly a disaster even. I have a meeting with Mr Toi later today to discuss how we can save the situation that you have plunged us into."

"I've plunged us into?" Asked Simon angrily, bewildered by Laila's twisting of events.

"Yes." She said, then continued. "The program has worked well in the east, but we have different viewpoints and traditions here. The program was never really meant to be transferred worldwide. Until of course you really pushed for it."

You could have heard a pin drop in the room as Simon glared at Laila in disbelief.

"So I have decided that if I manage to nip this now, Mr Toi may be persuaded by the direct and swift action that I take this morning not to pursue the matter any further."

The penny now dropped with Simon, and he shook his head lost for words.

A shiver of anticipation ran down Laila's spine. He was going to go along with this, she could tell by his eyes, not happy but a sullen acceptance of the situation. Before he could argue, Laila stabbed at the intercom button on her desk. "Miss. Chandran could you bring me a cane please." Laila said to her P.A., then sat back in her chair and waited.

"Cane! Are you joking me?" Asked the indignant Simon.

Playing with the diamond solitaire on her left hand, Laila shook her head trying her hardest not to let her true feelings show. "It has to be done, I can't think of any other course of action that may appease my... I mean Mr. Toi." She said in her saddest voice. Then there was a sharp knock on her door, and Laila looked up to see Miss Chandran through the glass door holding a three foot long bamboo cane. Laila waved her in and thanked her as she handed her the implement of correction. As Miss Chandran left the office Laila stood up and had a couple of practise swishes with the bamboo rod. "Right, Mr. Manners, this is simply a case of you putting yourself forward for the rest of the department," Laila said matter of factly. "in the spirit of the S.P.A.N.K.S. program. So if you could get yourself ready please."

In a daze Simon stood up, then looked at the blinds on the glass wall of the office, and said pointing at them. "Are you going to close them... you know. before we start?"

"No, that is not in the spirit of the program."

Feeling that he was in some nightmare and about to awake, Simon started to loosen his trousers, all the time shaking his head. After his trousers were lowered to his knees, he looked imploringly at Laila.

"Boxers as well please, Mr. Manners, you know how punishments are given." Reluctantly his fingers went to the waistband of his underwear, then they to joined his trousers at his knees. Simon was all to aware of how exposed he was to all the other staff members outside on the department's main floor. Laila could feel the heat building in her crotch, though she was disappointed that Simon's cock was flaccid. She had often wondered if this sort of thing was a turn on for him, if this Englishman was a victim to the 'English vice', evidently he was not. "Could you bend over the back of your chair please, Mr. Manners. It will be six strokes, and they will be hard." Laila was astounded at how easy this was turning out to be, as Simon followed her instruction. Of course this wasn't the first time she had cause to punish a male in this way, but it was the first time with a western male. More to the point this particular western male, a little fantasy that she had harboured for some time now. Simon's bare buttocks upturned awaiting her correction, and now it was about to happen.

She took a step back and had one more practise air stroke, it amused her to watch his bottom cheeks tense at the sound of the cane. She waited. Then he relaxed his cheeks, and she struck like a Cobra. Simon called out in a mixture of shock and pain. Laila watched intensely as the mark of the rod came up on his bare bottom. Satisfied with her result she applied the next stroke, no less hard than the first. Again he called out, this time adding a little stamping motion that forced his clothing further down his legs. Silently Laila tapped the inside of Simon's upper thighs, for him to spread his legs further apart. As he did so his balls and the tip of his still flaccid member came into view. The third and fourth stroke she applied quickly, so that he had no time to prepare himself. He cried out in pain at the venomous strokes. The fifth stroke she decided would be a gate stroke, crossing the previous four to form a five bar gate. She had read about this type of stroke and wanted to see it for real. She was not disappointed by the result. The final stroke would be the one that he would feel tonight as he climbed up on to his bar stool for his post work drink. She aimed for the area where the bottom meets the tops of the thighs. Her aim was accurate, the accuracy was initially confirmed by his howl of pain, then seconded by the bright red weal appearing along the top of his thighs. "Thank you Mr. Manners, I hope this proves to be enough to satisfy Mr.Toi."

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