Saturday, 16 March 2013

Monday...The Editor Is Chief!

Returning home from a visit to my editors office, yes I know any regular readers will be surprised to know that I have an editor, but I do, though she edits my other writing projects rather than this blog.
Her name is Arena Halfpenny, pronounced a-rain-ah and woe betide anyone who happens to call her a-reen-ah! As Arena is not famed for her mellow temperament.

So where was I, ah yes sitting on the bus. It would be of no surprise to regular readers that I have a penchant for spanking ladies bottoms. Ladies bottoms mind you not girls, I like the rounded swell of a mature bottom, I would choose flamenco dancers over ballerinas, Valkyries over wood nymphs every time!
That day though it was me that was nursing the badly bruised bottom; so I looked around my fellow passengers as the bus pulled out from the city centre. I wondered if any of the other travellers were sitting on stinging buns?

Perhaps the girl in front of me she looked to be about nineteen; young enough to carry off wearing a woollen giraffe hat complete with eyes and horns, but old enough to have the womanly swell I referred to earlier. She looked rather studenty in her dress, or perhaps worked in one of the city's more hip clothes shops.
For my imagining she was a student getting a later bus than usual perhaps because one of her tutors had asked her to hold back after lectures. Maybe that tutor had implemented some plan to help her through her studies, a paternal/maternal hand to her bottom perhaps, to help her to focus, not for any sexual reasons of course.
I wonder?

Then there was older lady to my left; going by her outer clothing she was an office worker, most likely a manager, at the very least a team leader.
Her long overcoat partially hid her black two piece suit and white blouse. Very elegant, very sexy in a 'business lady' way. My mind wandered to what could lay beneath that suit, what hidden sexy delights were covered by her almost stern veneer?
My eyes lowered down to her calves; they were wrapped in black nylon, stockings or tights it was hard to decide. A quick glance at her pale blue eyes that held an almost impish shine told me stockings!
What markings though could her bottom have?
She looked very much an English Rose, so tradition would have it that they would have to be cane marks. Six uniform lines above the tops of her upper thighs? Or maybe five horizontal lines with a diagonal slash to create a five bar gate pattern?
Her crime to warrant such treatment?
Perhaps her team were not hitting their targets, so her line manager had to bring her to book?

So now I know what you are thinking...'Tomas is a pervert who spends all his time fantasising about ladies bottoms'.
To a degree that would be true, as a large part of my stories are indeed formulated on bus journeys. Today though I was making my mind wander not in search of inspiration, but to take my mind off the very real pain in my own bottom!

It all came to head on the early morning when I received a phone call from Arena, she told me she needed to see me about a matter of some importance this afternoon. My initial feelings were that she had finished my short story collection and that it was ready to go on sale.
I was so, so, wrong!

“Nice to see can manage something on time!” was the less than warm greeting that I received upon entering Arena's plush city centre office close to the rail station.

“Er...sorry I don't follow what you mean.” I replied truthfully.

“One Rosytale per week, and a promise to send me work on the short story, also your book research...any of this sound familiar to you?” she asked me rather brusquely.

I knew deep down that she had a point, I had been fannying around a lot lately on chat rooms etc., and not concentrating on any of my writing projects.

“Quite for a change Tomas?”

I nodded feeling rather silly at being scolded by this much younger and beautiful lady. Did I mention that Arena was much younger than me?
Well without going into exact ages Arena is about ten years my junior, unlike me she is highly educated and at times quite intimidating in her manner, and this was one of those times!

“You deserve to be punished...but with your predilections you would probably enjoy it wouldn't you?”

I just stood there in stony silence, how can you answer a question like that anyway?

“Yes well we will see, perhaps I'll have a few little surprises for you that you won't enjoy quite so much!”

I nodded through lack of anything else to do or say.

Arena stood up from behind her desk and walked towards me, taking off her dark blue business jacket as she approached me.

“Hang that up for me.” She ordered handing me her jacket.

I did as requested putting her jacket upon an old fashioned hat stand in the corner of her office, as I did so I could hear her dragging the chair that was in front of her desk into the centre of her office floor.

“Come here,” She said her voice soft and even, “lift my skirt.” The shock upon my face must have registered with her as she added “Don't get any ideas, I have to wear this for a meeting tomorrow so I don't want to have to spend this evening washing out a snails trail of your spunk!”

So like some naughty little boy I nodded and complied with her wish, slowly I lifted up the hem of her tight skirt. It then became obvious that she was wearing stockings as the pale flesh of her milky thighs came into view, harshly contrasting against the black nylon.
Once the skirt was bunched up well clear of her stockings and filmy black knickers, Arena broke the heavy silence.

“Drop your trousers and underwear!” She commanded, and then added. “You better not for your sake have an erection!”

My fingers shaking I undid my belt, the thought that that belt may be finding it's way across my arse made me shiver. Then I undid my trousers and let them drop to my knees.

“Hold on!” She said stopping me as my hands went to the waist bend of my black boxers.

Arena then went to her desk, returning with a little clasp of safety pins.

“I think we'll have that shirt up eh? Hands on top of your head please.” She asked or rather ordered, as she started pinning up my white shirt, till it was hanging almost bra-like just below my chest.

Once she was happy that my shirt was out of her 'field of action' she then without warning pulled down my boxers!

“I said no erection!”

“It's not...it's not erect...” I stuttered out, my hand going to rub at my semi erect member.

“Hands on top of your head!” She barked out shaking her head in disgust at me. “This is not for your enjoyment!”

Arena then sat on the chair that she had placed in the centre of her office, her hand pointing at her lap in a silent invitation.
Awkwardly I draped myself across her lap, feeling my cock rub against her thighs as I did so.
Then the spanking started; she employed a brisk and not to harsh rhythm to my naked behind. Her slaps rained down causing a pleasant warm feeling in my arse cheeks, “I could grow to like this,” I thought to myself. In fact I could feel myself growing against her, I started to think that her having me move her skirt was a good idea upon her part.

Then she stopped.

Then she said.

“So can you explain to me your lack of work?” She punctuated the end of that sentence with a very hard whack to each cheek.

Did I tell you that Arena is a very sporty girl? Tennis and golf being two of her favourite sports, meaning that when she wanted to whack hard, she was more than capable in doing so!

“OK...OK...I've been chatting a lot on the internet....” I gasped out as the pleasant warmth from the initial 'light' spanking was giving way to a real painful heat.

“Need... I... ask... who... to...or... should... I...just... guess?” Her hand falling hard upon my bottom with each word.

“OK..it was Linda!” I gasped out in defeat.

“I thought as much, my troublesome twin,” Arena said, her hand now coming to rest and massaging my stinging behind. “she introduces us so I can help you with your writing, then chats so you can't get any writing done, is that the size of it?”

“Well I wouldn't put it that way...we just like to chat and stuff, every now and again!” I said trying to defend Arena's sister.

In truth they make for and odd pair, their second name is rather apt as they are both like two sides to the same coin.
Anyone meeting them for the first time would know straight away that they were sisters; both sharing the same dusty brown hair that the summer sun would turn to an almost magic reddish sheen, also both ladies share the same hour glass, or as I would like to think, guitar shaped figure. In fact I can't pick up my guitar now without thinking of Linda over my lap, as it rests there upon my thighs I can think only of Linda's rounded bottom under my palm!
The two of them though are also so different; where Linda is shy and demure, Arena is brash and confident. Linda's charitable nature is counteracted by Arena's ruthless business acumen. Linda submissive...Arena anything but.

Then my day dreaming was rudely interrupted by a harsh clash of Arena's hand upon the top of my thigh.

“Come on get back on your feet!” She commanded, she commanded and I obeyed.

Again my hand went involuntarily towards my cock.

“Get off that! How many times do I have to tell you? Get your hands on your head...no on second thoughts...strip!” Arena ordered me.

As I undid my boot laces I watched as she put the cushions off her small sofa onto the top of her desk, it was more than clear that she had not finished my chastisement. As I wondered what else she had in store for me my heart leapt into my mouth as I saw what she had pulled out of her desk drawer.
I watched as she placed the very familiar ash paddle onto the top of her desk. When I say familiar, I mean I was familiar with its feel, with its weight in my hand, but not with its sting!
You see I was quite used to delivering it to Linda's bottom, being on the receiving end though was a totally different matter.
However what perplexed me even more though was the pair of surgical gloves that she had lain on top of the paddle!

“Over you go then!” Arena said pointing at the little pile of cushions.

Now totally naked; I walked slowly to her desk, all the time nervously eyeing the gloves and paddle.

As I lowered myself across the cushions I could see Arena pulling on one of the gloves onto her right hand. As our eyes met she rather theatrically snapped the elastic upon her wrist.

"I have noticed," She said as she moved behind me, tapping my bare feet further apart with her shod feet. "that a couple of your stories feature ladies being sodomised."

I then felt her fingers trail down the cleft of my bottom.

"So I thought to myself, a little humiliation would turn this into a real punishment for you. Also it could be an instructional tool as to how it feels to have ones bottom invaded!" As she spoke I felt a finger probing at my anus causing an involuntary shudder through my whole body. "Oh Tomas that is only one finger...you are going to be taking more than that!"

I gasped as I felt another finger enter me to join the vanguard of her probing.

"Relax Tomas, that is the trick to being sodomised...you have to relax that tight little muscle...believe me I know." Arena said, her voice now an almost half whisper.

As I could not see her, I had no idea what other things she could have at hand. The mention of being sodomised brought ideas of dildos or butt plugs to my mind. I closed my eyes tight shut in abject resignation to her whims.
Then her fingers dove deeper into me, but not just deeper they also pressed down over.

"I have read that this is very pleasant and highly erotic for a male to have his prostrate massaged," She said, her voice now cheerfully mocking me. "of course being a lady I would not know how it really feels. So is it pleasant and erotic?"

In fact the actual physical feeling was indeed a sort of exquisite pain, but all pleasure was nullified by the deep shame as I imagined what state her gloved fingers would be in. So all I could manage in reply was a low guttural grunt.
Her shaming manipulations continued for what seemed like an age, though in fact it was probably no more than a minute or so. In that minute however she brought me high up to the edge of orgasm, then once I was on that precipice of release she withdrew her fingers.

"Now you are going to taste your favourite little toy, it will be five whacks and be warned I'm going to lay them on hard," She said in the same mocking tone. "Now pass me that paddle!"

With shaking fingers I reached out across the table with out rising, taking paddle I handed it back to her.

She kept her promise, the paddle struck hard on my right cheek with all the power of a real punishment, and not a play paddling.

After waiting what seemed like an age I felt the paddle slam into my left cheek.

She then waited allowing the heat, and no doubt the bruise to spread and rise.

Now she was applying the hard polished wood onto an already burning base, I kept my eyes tightly closed as she practised her already hard forearm stroke onto my flesh.

Then after the fifth crashing 'pop' had hit its target, Arena broke her silence.

"Stand up, and turn around." She ordered, as I obeyed I could see a devilish gleam in her eyes. "Kneel down." She ordered, as I knelt she turned her back on me, her black pantied bottom now directly in front of my face. "Pull down my knickers!" This I did not have to be told twice. "Now kiss my bottom better!"

My lips went to her now naked full bottom. I kissed at the purple and almost inky blue marks caused by the same ash paddle on her bottom yesterday.

Remember I did tell you earlier that Arena and Linda were both two sides to the SAME coin?