Sunday, 22 July 2012

The First Red Box

Sitting in the office of J Calder and Associates usually gave Paul Fothergill a feeling of reassurance. Normally sitting in this old looking office gave him a feeling of permanence, but not today.

He remembered coming into this office with his father in the early nineteen seventies when he was only about twelve or so. It had seemed old fashioned even then and to his mind's eye nothing much had changed over the last thirty odd years. In fact if it wasn't for the computer console and the modern phone upon the desk, one would would swear that they had been transported back to the nineteen fifties!

Calder's had always been the Fothergill family solicitors since as far back as anyone could recall.

Fothergill's mill and Calder's office, two historic bastions of Dardale in Lancashire, two old family firms in an ever changing multinational world of commerce.

Today though Paul was finding Calder's as being the cause of feelings of loss and change rather than those of solid permanence. Today Paul was here for the reading of his Uncle George's last will and testament.

He had taken his uncle's death very badly. There is always something more tragic about a death near Christmas time and Paul's uncle had died on the Monday before Christmas. Also Paul's grief had been compounded by the relationship that he and his uncle George had shared. Uncle George had been younger than Paul's father by some thirteen years, so when Paul was born his uncle was only eleven years old.

As Paul grew up he looked upon uncle George more as a big brother than an uncle, and when his uncle married and his wife had the twins Mark and Julia, they both grew up looking upon Paul as an uncle rather than just a cousin.

It was Mark and Julia's position that had Paul puzzled today, he had always thought that all of his uncle's not insubstantial estate would have been divided equally between the twins, with perhaps a small amount of money being left over to Auntie Marsha, uncle George's estranged wife.

Despite their closeness it had never even crossed Paul's mind that he would be mentioned in the will, and in truth it troubled him slightly. As far as Paul was concerned everything should rightly go to the twins and no-one else!

Unlike Paul's father, Uncle George had made his money outside of the family business. The mill was not for him as he had other interests which he had managed to turn into money.

Uncle George was a history buff and a writer, two of his interests that he had managed to turn a handsome financial gain on. He wrote historical text books with a leaning to the social side of history, one of which had been made into a TV series. This was only part of his story though, he also specialised in Victorian Romances, writing some thirty odd novels under five different pen names. None were best sellers but they all did sell and were still selling.

So all in all with his books, his novels, TV rights and a small holding still retained in the mill it made for quite a valuable estate.

As Paul sat alone in the office waiting for the others to arrive, he felt every inch the 'circling vulture'. He had already decided in his own mind that whatever was left to him he was going to give to the twins.

As it turned out Paul needn't have worried, both Mark and Julia were glad to see him, if one can be glad in such circumstances. They both assured him that they did not in any way feel cheated by Paul's inheritance, Mark said to Paul.

"Before the end you know Dad got a little bit finicky about things, he said he wanted everything sorted out and one of the things that he was emphatic about was that you got these three red boxes. He said that you were the only person he knew that would appreciate the contents."

"So what's in them?" Paul asked.

"God only knows," was his younger cousin's reply.

Two week later the boxes arrived, each one was numbered and box number one had a note attached. The note informed Paul that these boxes contained documents that would be of interest to Paul, but he was never to let the family, or anyone else for that matter, know where he had obtained the documents from. The note from his uncle also advised Paul that should he decide to sell any of these documents, he would be wise to sell them sparingly as not to flood the market in one go.

When Paul opened the first box, he saw straight away why his uncle had kept them secret.

They were all historical documents, letters, newspaper clippings and handwritten accounts of the same basic subject, the corporal discipline of young ladies!

One certain item drew Paul's attention straight away, it was a wine coloured ledger. The reason it caught Paul's eye was that he recognised it, or at least recognised the style as being the same as the ones in the archives of the old cotton mill. Only this was not an order book, on the cover of the book was written "Disciplinary Record - June 1880 to August 1886."

As Paul read through this tome an idea sprang to his mind, statistically speaking there must be at least one or two members of his staff that shared his and his late uncle's interest in spanking. Of course it was not something that could be just casually brought up in conversation, but this book could act as an ice breaker. If he took it into work as just an odd curio that he had come across mixed in with the old sales and order ledgers, it would be like an angler scattering bread on the water to see if the fish would bite.

The second week of March two thousand and nine, three weeks after Paul had made the 'curio' known to the staff (and had been at least browsed through by most of his staff), Jennie Stapleton, his head of IT, came back from her holiday in Playas de Las Americas. As she entered her office she was greeted by John, her assistant, with, ""Mr. Fothergill said he needs to see you as soon as you get in Jennie."

"Really!" Jennie replied, with a little too much excitement in her voice. "I'll get along there right now."

Before John could warn her, Jennie turned heel and left excitedly to see Paul Fothergill. She was more than a little thrilled that her boss needed to see her so urgently, perhaps he was going to take on some of her ideas about expanding her department?

The look on Paul's face when she entered his office knocked the wind out of her sails a little.

"Jennifer take a seat please," Paul said, his heart softening as he saw his pretty blond IT manager, her post-holiday tan bringing out the blueness of her eyes. "We have a bit of a problem, I'm having to pay all the shop floor overtime to get this weeks orders out."

Jennifer nodded, a vacant smile on her face as she tried to work out what the problem was if business was that good that they had to do overtime to get the orders out?

"You see last week I had all the shop floor workers painting floors and doing early spring cleaning." As Paul said this he couldn't help but wonder if Jennifer's tan had any white bits.

"I'm sorry Paul, I'm still not with you here," Jennifer said unsure of where this conversation was leading and how it could involve her.

"Well it would seem there is a problem with that ordering software that you put into action last year, so last week we had no material to do any work, no cloth arrived from any suppliers."

Now Jennifer was really concerned, she started to wonder if she was somehow being set up to take the fall for someones cock up.

"The just in time system can't be at fault, it must have been a mistake with the ordering department!"

"I'm sorry Jennifer, we checked, all orders had been keyed in correctly and on time," Paul said, a note of sadness in his voice. "John seems to have worked out what the problem was, can you think of anything special about last year?"

"Er... no not really... I can't work out... oh shit!" Jennifer exclaimed. "Last year was a leap year!"

"Yeah that would seem to be the problem, you told the computer to issue the email orders on the twenty ninth of February, which was fine last year... but..." before Paul could finish his sentence Jennifer burst out in tears.

"So... so that's it then," Jennifer said between sobs. "I'm getting finished... I'm sorry sir... but I understand your position..."

It had never even crossed Paul's mind to sack Jennifer, sure he was going to give her a good telling off and make her redesign the program, but nothing more than that, but ever the one to grab an opportunity when it arose Paul said, making sure that there was an element of despair in his voice, "I know, it's so unfair in many ways the way the world is today, you know that back in my great, great, granddad's days such things would have been dealt with so differently but that is political correctness for you!"

"What do you mean?" Jennifer asked, her blue eyes now shiny with tears.

"Well you must have seen, or at least heard about that silly book that I found?"

"Er... the punishment thingie?"

Paul smiled at Jennifer's description of his family heirloom.

"Yes that's right, it would have been a few taps with the cane and then all forgotten about, it's a shame those days are gone now."

"So you would rather cane me than sack me?" As she said those words she felt an odd little skip deep in the pit of her tummy.

"Would that we could but..." Paul said as he lent over the desk and handed Jennifer a box of tissues. "It's just not done and it's probably illegal!"

"Not if it is at my request," Jennifer said clutching at straws. "If it is on my suggestion surely then it would be OK?"

Paul made a big act of thinking her suggestion through, even to the point of resting his head in his hands and rubbing at his forehead in concentration, finally he nodded to the girl opposite him.

"Lunchtime today I would like you to get a collection of bamboo canes from the local DIY centre, get a few of varying thickness and we can see how we go from there."

"Thank you Sir, you won't regret this!" With that the now strangely elated Jennifer left the office.

After Jennifer left, Paul wondered at what point it was that Jennifer had decided to refer to him as Sir? Not that it mattered greatly, but it did seem slightly odd as did her eagerness to taste the cane!

That lunchtime Jennifer felt so embarrassed as she did her DIY shopping, she felt that everyone in the store new exactly why and for what purpose she was buying the canes for. Then she had the added distress of of feeling each cane as she picked them, knowing that the next time she felt them on her hands it would be in such different circumstances.

When she got back to work it was no better, she was sure all her colleagues knew what was in the black bin liner that she was clutching so tightly, clutching to stop the rods from rattling.

Paul opened up the bag like a kid at Christmas, Jennifer had did exactly as requested there in front of him was eight canes, all in differing length and thickness.

"Well done Jennifer, I'll take these home tonight and have a few practice swishes on a pillow so I get it just right for tomorrow night, after all we don't want to cause any permanent damage to your bottom do we?"

"BOTTOM!" Jennifer said in disbelief. "I thought the cane was given on the hands?"

"No... no... in the book it is stated that it is to be delivered to the bared lower back, and that is Victorian politeness for the bottom... the bared bottom," Paul pointed out matter of factly. Here was the point he thought to himself that his prey may bolt, but she didn't.

Instead of storming out of his office Jennifer just nodded in wide eyed silence.

The appointment for Jennifer's caning was six o'clock the following night. For both Paul and Jennifer the clock seemed to be playing tricks upon them. For all that it seemed that the day was dragging, the appointment also seemed to come around so quickly.

As Jennifer made her way to Paul's office she wondered about some of the choices she had made this morning. She had decided to wear trousers instead of a skirt or a dress, she reasoned that lowering her trousers was a little more ladylike than having to lift her skirt. Her underwear was another dilemma, she had toyed with the idea of wearing a thong, as then her buttocks would already be bared but she also felt that a thong would make her look a little slutty. So she had chosen a pretty pair of full cut pale blue knickers with a rose motif, if Paul was going to see her knickers he might as well see a pretty pair, but then he was going to be seeing a lot more than just her knickers and that thought both excited and scared her in almost equal measure.

With shaking hands she knocked upon Paul's door.

"Please come in Jennifer, I'm glad you haven't changed your mind," Paul said as he opened the door. "As you can see I've put a little cushion on my desk, that should make you slightly more comfortable and it also helps to raise your bum up... you know make the target area more prominent?"

"Thank you Sir," Jennifer said sincerely.

"As you know this cock up has caused a lot of problems and cost the firm a substantial amount of money." As Paul was talking Jennifer was nodding in red-faced agreement. "So any punishment has to be a firm one, I propose eight strokes followed by a quarter of an hour or so for you to reflect upon things and to compose yourself, then if you're of a mind to we could go for a drink to show that there are no hard feelings between us and that the slate is wiped clean?"

"Oh... yes Sir, I think I would like that... you know the drink I mean."

"Right shall we begin, as I said this will be a bare bottomed caning so if you would like to arrange yourself over the the desk."

"So this is it, this is really going to happen?" Jennifer thought to herself as she undid her trousers. As Jennifer's shaking fingers struggled with her trousers, Paul picked up his chosen cane and thought to himself, "My god she is really going through with this!"

Now with her trousers undone and her back to Paul Jennifer slowly lowered them. She could have pulled down both her trousers and knickers in one go, but that would have negated the fact that she had picked this particular pair for Paul's delectation. Once her trousers were at her ankles Jennifer turned to Paul and coyly motioned at her panties, as if to ask if she could keep them up. Paul shook his head and her knickers joined her trousers at her ankles and Jennifer's white bits were now under his gaze as she bent across his desk.

The first stroke took Jennifer by surprise, it wasn't so much the pain, it was the concentration of the pain that shocked her, a blazing line that seemed to halve her bottom. Then as the pain subsided it also seemed to spread. It was a strange paradox, the line she first felt seemed to ease off but the area around it seemed to heat up.

The second stroke was not so shocking and it followed the same pattern as Paul allowed enough time between each stroke to permit each one to be savoured to the full.

Of course Jennifer did not know, but did suspect, that between each stroke Paul was making sure that he was getting a good eyeful of Jennifer's naked charms. She was not the only one savouring things this evening.

By the fifth stroke Jennifer felt like her whole bottom was ablaze, she did not cry out for him to stop or for any mercy, she had decided that she was going to be stiff lipped about what after all was once a regular schoolgirl correction. She was determined that at twenty five she would show Paul that she was no silly little girl. Despite her determination though, her eyes were now clouded with tears but she was not going to cry out loud, of that she was sure.

Sure enough she was right, even as the final stroke whistled down onto her now not so white bits all it elicited was a guttural gasp of relief.

Paul was well impressed by her stoicism. As he asked her to stand Jennifer turned to face him and thanked him for his kindness. She stood in front of him, her hands trying to rub the pain out from her behind, seemingly oblivious to the view of her closely shaven pussy she was now offering.

"Right Jennifer if you are quite finished massaging your bum I think we can make do with only ten minutes of you in that corner facing the wall... no there is no need for you to pull up your clothing, this will be bare bottomed reflection!"

Jennifer didn't argue, she just went over to the corner and concentrated on the wallpaper. She heard Paul moving his chair and sitting down, then she heard him turning pages in a book.

The book Paul was reading was a punishment book from a college for young ladies dated nineteen twelve. It was OK, but not as good as the mill book. As he read through it there were parts of it that he could see that his uncle hadn't thought out properly, also a few sections that were clearly written in ball point!

No this was not one of Uncle George's better fakes.