Monday, 29 September 2014

S.P.A.N.K.S (call centre motivation) - all parts

Caroline awoke after a fitful nights sleep; she lay there for a few moments deciding. She had to decide whether to go to work or not, and if she was to go, what to wear?


Skirt or trousers, tights or stockings, flat shoes or heels. She wished now that the call centre had some form of uniform. Even just a dress code, but they haven't so she will have to decide on her own, as she was this morning alone in her flat. She had made excuses to her boyfriend to put him off coming around to her flat last night. Some nights you just need to be alone, and after yesterday's news at work, last night was one of those days. When the new company motivational plans were first put in place, she wasn't in the least bit bothered. She was one of the stars of the sales floor; her lead-to-sale conversion rate was the third highest in the call centre. Sales Planning And New Kinesis Scheme, they all laughed when they read the title of the memo.

"It's called SPANKS, and no one can understand what it means?" Caroline said to the floor manager.

"Ah, you mean the kinesis bit?" He replied with a large grin. "Kinesis is the reacting to external stimulus. You're right though, it does spell out spanks, and that is roughly what the stimulus will be... you know, to egg on the lower sellers on the sales team."

Caroline laughed at the notion of spankings for poor sales figures, not a bad idea she thought to herself though totally impractical.

As the full details of the new scheme came out it caused much consternation among the staff. Cutbacks from the parent company in Singapore were being proposed. Anyone who didn't want to take up the new contracts, and enlist to the SPANKS bonus plan could be moved out to the nonsales side of the business. In some cases, they would  just let go of in new job restructuring. It was a complicated document full of "legalese", the gist of it was that the highest closers of leads got a new improved bonus. The lowest received corporal punishment in front of their peers, as a way of warning to them to buck up their ideas, and also a reminder to the others to keep on selling. Of course, if there were one hundred percent hitting of all targets, there would be no need for any corporal punishment and an enhanced group bonus would be paid to all sales staff.

All the staff took the whole thing as a joke; it could not be legal could it?

Well, with good enough lawyers, and complicated enough confidentiality waivers written into contracts almost anything is legal.

There would be no point to it would there?

The parent company had operated similar schemes in the Far East, and had proven to be a huge success in both raising sales, and improving team morale.

Would It only have an impact on the same few people each month?

Yes, that would be correct, and that was the mistake that the English office made, at least for the first six months anyway.

For Caroline the first six months were excellent, she was getting better than ever bonuses partly due to the amount of staff that left when the company brought in the SPANKS contracts.

The new team that came in were keen but inexperienced so they came nowhere near her figures. As for the CP side of the contracts, Caroline looked upon it as an entertaining diversion to bring the month to the end. It was carried out in an almost clinical way; there were three designated executors of the punishments, all female. It had been rumoured amongst the staff that the company preferred to use women in this role to avoid any form of sexual harassment charges being raised against them.
Also as the majority of the sales team were women, of the hundred, working on the sales floor only sixteen were male. The talk in the canteen was all about how did they get the training, did they have to practise on each other?
It had even been mooted that the company had hired people in for them to practise on. Either way, trained they were, and they were raring to go on the last working day of the first month.

All that day there was a palpable tension in the air, a kind of excitement at what was to come. Caroline thought this must be similar to how Rome must have felt on the first day of "The Games". Everyone was waiting for another's humiliating downfall.
Then four forty finally came along, for the first month there were two victims, both had only reached sixty percent of their target. Against all odds, it was one female, and one male. The girl Caroline did not know; she had seen her about the offices, but they had never spoken. A little bit inside Caroline was disappointed that it what not someone she knew well. Don't judge her too harshly though, because we all have that hint of schadenfreude in our personality, no matter how hard we try to hide it.

The male, now that made her smile broadly, Jack Danvers she knew only too well, Jack-the-lad as he liked to be called. Jack was the self appointed male chauvinist pig, no doubt there would be more than a few of the girls looking forward to seeing him get a whacking. Caroline made sure that she had cleared her desk early, so she could get a good front seat.
The office building had a large conference room; that had been slightly modified, a small, two foot high podium with a school type desk placed on it at the front of the room. Small rigs of lamps had been fitted onto the ceiling to flood the podium with white light. The purpose of this was twofold; it gave the audience a better view of events; it also made it hard for the victims to see their audience. The audience was seated in seven rows, arranged in a semi-circle and fanning outwards from the podium. (The following months the seats were numbered, and allocated in order of sales results, of course, Caroline still got a front seat.)

The show started; Jane Murray took to the stage and thanked everyone for being there. She praised the efforts of her sales teams; she knew they were going through tough times, money was scarce, but they had all, well almost all, pulled through. Then her mood seemed to change, as she said.

"I'm sorry to say though; we didn't hit our hundred percent target. I know there are a few people sitting in front of me now who didn't come close to it. Some who only managed sixty-five percent, it's to those people that what follows next should be taken as a firm warning of what might be to come. You people who are only sitting on sixty- five or seventy percent ratios should realise; that should things stay the same for you, while the ones around you increase their sales that it is one stroke of the paddle for each five percent under performance."

There was an audible intake of breath from the whole room, they all knew that the ones being punished had only made sixty percent. A ripple of whispers then went through the room, each whisper said, "that's eight strokes!" Jane then stepped down from the podium. Then in what could only be called a step into the over theatrical, the executor then took to the stage, complete with a white face mask, the type so common in old Venetian masked balls.
The mask was supposed to ensure her anonymity, but everyone knew it was Claire, as the other two appointed punishers were sitting amongst the audience, but it all added to the drama. It was the first time that Caroline had had a chance to see the paddle. To her mind, it looked pretty innocuous, it seemed, at first glance be constructed of transparent plastic. She was later to find that the material was Lexan.

No one in the audience was aware of the fact that a few implements had been mooted, and even tested, before this paddle was chosen as the ideal adjustment tool. In the Far East, almost without exception, the cane was the chosen method of correction. But the lawyers had decided that due to the propensity of canes breaking the skin, to avoid any lawsuits it was decided to use other methods in the Western countries. After a great deal of product testing, the three punishers decided that the Lexan paddle was the quickest, and most effective way to bring the required heat to the seat.

"Miss Maureen Corrigan, please," spoke the ridiculously masked Claire, "you shall be first."

Then the red-faced girl came out of the shadows and stepped up onto the podium. Caroline could feel her heartbeat rate rise, and her hands started to get sticky and sweaty in excitement. All the audience had been informed of what would take place, but few had believed it.
Claire approached the girl, who was now visibly shaking. This Corrigan girl towered over the five foot two Claire; she must have been approaching the six foot mark, her slim build making her seem even taller. Claire was whispering into her ear as she had to bend down to hear her instructions. The girl nodded; her face now gone from red to ashen as her visibly trembling  fingers tried to undo her jeans. Again Claire whispered something, and again the girl nodded.

Claire then put down the paddle and undid Maureen's jeans for her, lowering them well past her knees. She then lifted the poor girl's t-shirt high up her back, revealing white ladybug patterned knickers. The t-shirt was then secured by tucking it into her bra strap.
Caroline swallowed hard in anticipation. Then Claire's fingers went to the waistband of Maureen's exposed underwear, the girl didn't know where to put herself, chewing on her bottom lip, staring at the ceiling. Soon enough her knickers to were around her knees, giving all in the room a perfect view of her surprisingly full pale buttocks. She quickly took her place over the desk, bent across resting on her elbows. From Caroline's prime seat, she had a view of the girl's bottom, and the hint of her underlying sex.
Claire then moved to the girls left and applied the first stroke. The paddle came down with a light popping sound, followed quickly by a scream of pain.

Claire then stood back and waited. A band of red started to emerge on the girls behind, a band of red with a couple of pale spots left by the air holes in the polycarbonate implement. Claire was in no hurry at all to finish her well practised display; she waited till Maureen's wriggling had entirely subsided before bringing down the second popping stroke. The second stroke to was also greeted with an audible shriek of pain, again Claire waited for the pain to seep through the girl's bottom before continuing.

By the fifth stroke, the room was full of the sound of the girl's sobs. Each stroke was now also eliciting a little bent over dance from Maureen as she tried to stamp the pain out from her bottom.
This lewd dance had forced her jeans and underwear down to her ankles. Also, as she wiggled and wriggled over the desk more than a peek of her dark pink labia was being afforded to all in the room.

Caroline now felt a heat growing in herself, a heat she could do nothing to quench. After landing the eighth stroke, Claire waited for the girl to calm herself, before again whispering to her victim. Claire then helped the girl to her feet and led her to the side of the desk. To all the audience's surprise she then placed her hands onto the top of her head and stood there, tearfully staring ahead into the darkness of the room. Now all the audience was given the front view of the girls, now, not so private privates.

"Jonathon Danvers, please step forward." Called out Claire.

Then on to the brightly lit podium stepped forward Jack-the-lad. Caroline smiled at Jack being given his Sunday name of Jonathon; this was the part of proceedings that she, and many others in the audience had been awaiting. Standing in the bright lights like a stunned rabbit, he didn't look half as cocky as normal. In a vain effort to speed up proceedings, he quickly undid his trousers, and pulled both them and his underwear down in one movement, and almost hurled himself over the desk.

Yes, Caroline thought as she caught a fleeting glimpse of his limp genitalia, not half so cocky as usual, she thought to herself.

Claire took up her place as before, Lexan paddle in hand, and brought it across his rather hairy arse. Unlike the earlier light popping noise, this blow gave off a solid thwack. Whether she harsher because he was male or because like almost every other female on the sales floor at some point she had received from him a remark about the size of her tits, arse or legs?
Caroline didn't know, what she did know, however, was that Claire was certainly hitting harder. As before she waited to let him savour the stroke before continuing any further. She followed the whole punishment like this, allowing each stroke to be savoured, before delivering the next one.
Caroline noticed the muscles of his hamstrings tightening and shaking as he tried to keep the position and not give away the amount of pain he was feeling.

Claire noticed his resilience, upon the sixth stroke he was still unmoved. So she changed tack a little, the seventh stroke she delivered with gusto to the top of his thighs. It worked as he called out in both pain and shock, a ripple of snigger's wafted around the audience; the eighth then fell almost straight after, giving him no time to prepare himself. Another scream of pain left his lungs. Claire then helped him to his feet, whispering her instructions to him.
Like Maureen before him, Jack moved to the side of the desk hands on the head, his eyes closed tight in pain and shame. All eyes were on his limp, tiny cock; Caroline felt a mixture of triumph and pity for him. She was one of the few people in the room to know that Jack's smallish state was mainly the result of nerves. Of course, over the next few days, as all the girls talked about Jack-the-lad being only an inch or two away from being Jane-the-girl, she did nothing to correct or enlighten them.

Jane Murray then returned to the stage and thanked the audience for their time. Wishing them all a good weekend, she reminded them to keep closing sales, or it could be them next month up there on the podium.

Then the main room light came on, and everyone filed out, leaving the half naked Jack and Maureen still standing on the podium.

Caroline thought back on the last six months, thought back on how she had enjoyed that afternoon, and all the others like them. Remembering how she used to think to herself, "I wonder how it feels up there?" In about eight hours time, she was about to find out.


PART 2

Caroline knew she would have to get up and go to work, much as she would rather stay in bed and have a "duvet day". She pulled back the bed covers and padded naked along to her bathroom, the cold water of the shower waking her completely. Yes, it was not all some bad dream, she was going to have to step up onto the podium this afternoon and accept a bare bottomed paddling in front of all her workmates. Worst of all she couldn't work out why, as last month like all the prior six months, she had hit all her sales targets.

"Why did they have to change it?" she muttered to herself, as she patted her bare legs dry with a towel.

What Caroline did not know was that the whole S.P.A.N.K.S initiative had been implemented incorrectly from the start by the British office. The idea of it was to build a better team understanding and moral. In previous places where S.P.A.N.K.S had been put into place, they had all shown a marked increase in team performance, but not so in Britain.
One of the young executives from head office was flown over to see exactly what the problems in England were. At twenty-four years of age, Laila Toi was, like Caroline, a rising star in the company but at a much, much, higher level.
When Laila flew into England, Jane Murray was rather perplexed that instead of going to her hotel, she had insisted on going straight to the office and getting down to work. Not a good sign when your jet-lagged boss decides that she can't wait another day to get started. Obviously this was not just going to be a quick look around, followed by a nice dinner type of meeting.

Jane, the forty-five-year-old head of the British office was rightly worried about Ms.Toi's arrival. She had phoned her the day before, and had requested all paperwork and emails reference the S.P.A.N.K.S program to be available for her, and she made it clear that she wanted all of it. Jane met Laila at the reception area, and asked if she would like to have coffee before adjourning to her office, and which of the management team she would like to have in on the meeting.


"No. Get coffee sent to the room; I don't need to see any of your team this will be a one-on-one meeting." she replied brusquely. On getting into the office, Laila irked Jane further by taking the seat behind the desk. Jane's chair. "You have all paperwork I asked for?" demanded the small black haired girl.

Jane nodded, the rage in her growing at this fresh out of university chit of a girl, and handed her two large manila folders. One of the folders contained rather contentious photos taken at one of the punishment sessions. Taken without the girl's knowledge.
Laila put on a pair of reading glasses and started to work, silently. Jane watched as Laila seemed to read each paper a couple of times as she worked through the first file her face seemed to darken into a puzzled brood. The only thing she said, which only added to Jane's confusion was.

"Sandbagging!"

 Then she opened the second folder, the one containing among other documentation the photos. If she had looked in a dark mood before, now she seemed to be raging. She laid back in Jane's chair, closed her eyes for about thirty seconds in deep concentration, then took three very deep breaths opened her eyes and started to speak.

"Somewhere this program has gone wrong," she said, her voice calm and even, "the idea is to form stronger teams, where the better sales staff drive along the not so good ones. The four teams compete against each other, as you would say in 'a friendly rivalry.' The losing team if they have not achieved one hundred percent of the target will risk a team member receiving corporal punishment."

Jane nodded, confident that was how she had implemented the program.

"The results are measured as a team effort; all sales are grouped together, and an average taken."

Again Jane nodded.

"The lowest scoring team, will then have a member picked from them at random. Who will be the one to as the Americans say, 'take one for the team,' irrespective of their personal sales."

Jane could feel her face flush.

"This system discourages the sales team members from sandbagging their results, by holding back leads back for the following month. It also encourages them to make every sale that they can each month. I would expect some of your top closers to be hitting one hundred and fifteen percent of their targets at least, more likely one hundred and thirty. None ever go more than one hundred and five."

Jane nodded realising her mistake.

"Take this girl, for example, she hit one hundred and three percent of her target last month. Already only a week and a half into this month she has reached forty-seven percent of her target, she is sandbagging, and she is in the bottom team. If she had hit even only an extra twenty percent, her team would have been second."

Jane looked at the sales listings and saw Caroline's name highlighted.

"Can you now understand how this system is supposed to work?"

Jane nodded and cleared her throat to speak, but was cut off as Laila continued her monologue.

"Also you seemed to have turned the punishments into some sideshow to entertain your staff. You used psychological profiling questionnaires to enlist your punishers. Do you know what happens when you do that?"

Jane shook her head.

"You end up with people with a certain mindset. Some people, both male and female have a... let's just say fascination with the giving and receiving of corporal punishment. That is why we always recommend that the senior management carries out the required chastisements. So bearing all this in mind, and the mad inclusion of photographic evidence of something that the company would like to remain 'in house'. I would recommend that you go and bring the paddle in from where ever it is kept."

"W... what... why do you need the paddle?" Jane finally managed to stutter out.

"So you can learn about corporal punishment first hand," Laila said flatly, "as from now on, if you want to keep your job. You will be the only one to administer the punishments. To give you the right motivation, and to teach you for this inept usage of a highly valued program, you will also have a taste of the punishment you will be administrating."

"You can't be serious!"

"Never more so, I suggest you give your PA an early finish as I imagine that you will want to keep this between the two of us?"

Jane rose from her seat and set off to retrieve the paddle, on her way she told Eileen, her PA to have the rest of the day off. If the walk down the corridor to get the paddle had seemed long, the walk back clutching the paddle in her hand felt longer. She couldn't believe that this was happening. In a couple of minutes time, a girl young enough to be her daughter was about to spank her bottom. She was going to have to bare her bottom, and bend over like a naughty schoolgirl while this young kid laid into her with a paddle.

When she re-entered her office, Laila had closed the blinds and was now standing in the middle of the room; her jacket removed and the sleeves on her blouse rolled up past her elbows. All sorts of things ran through Jane's mind; what knickers did she put on this morning, how is she going to explain the bruising when she gets home?
Will it hurt, but most of all why did she feel sexually excited by it?
She handed the paddle to Laila, half hoping it was all a bluff, half praying that it wasn't.

"Trousers and panties down, please." Laila said, confirming that it was no bluff.

Jane unzipped her trousers, and lowered them along with her knickers in one movement; then unbidden bent across her now cleared desk. If the idea of receiving corporal punishment excited her, the reality didn't. The first swat came down on her catching both of her bottom cheeks, but more so on the right-hand side. The initial impact stung, but not too badly. Then it seeped in; the heat seemed to spread slowly the pain gathering in intensity, and then just as it seemed to level out.

THWACK! The second blow landed. How many will there be? Jane wondered gritting her teeth, waiting for the burning to dissipate.

THWACK! Came the third.

"Good girl, Jane. You take this very well; we are halfway now."

So it will be six; Jane thought. Worse than the pain, was this slip of a thing calling her a "good girl". It was bad enough having her hitting her bare bottom, without her patronising words.
Laila then moved around to the other side of Jane for the final three strokes.

THWACK! The fourth one came down; Jane's eyes were now misting over; tears were not far away.

THWACK! The fifth landed, and Jane sobbed.

THWACK! The sixth was delivered, with added venom.

"So that is it, Jane, we expect you to implement the suitable," Laila said as the crying Jane struggled to pull up her underwear and trousers without further agitating her bruised behind. "I will be back in three months, and I expect a huge change in the sales turnover, and then perhaps the paddle will not be needed so often. For either you or your staff."

With Jane still trying to make herself, decent Laila left the office for her hotel and a well-earned sleep. Through still tear filled eyes Jane looked at last months sales figures, and at Caroline's highlighted name, her fate was now sealed.



PART 3

Caroline looked at her naked reflection in the bathroom mirror. A body to be proud of she decided, not to skinny, curves in all the right places, but not running to fat. Her breasts full but not overly generous, hips wide, not quite an hourglass figure but not far off it.


Thanks to her boyfriend's liking of the natural look, she was sporting a full but unfashionable bush. She smiled, thinking to herself that the pubic hair would act as a pair of pseudo knickers, shielding her sex from view, least ways from the front anyway.
She knew only too well that once bent across the desk; she would be offering up a totally different visage. There was nothing she could do about that though. Last year the company did a sponsored obstacle course at the local pool, and Caroline felt quite comfortable changing with the other girls, all chatting together in various states of undress.

Today was going to be entirely different though. At the pool it was all girls together, today it will be just her, alone and exposed on the floodlit podium, bent over waiting for the paddle's kiss.

She shook her head slowly, still not grasping how this had come about.

"Just my luck." She muttered to herself.

Of course, luck had little to do with it. Once Jane saw the sales figures for Caroline's group and the paddling fresh in her mind, she decided that Caroline would be the first name to be "randomly" drawn.

Of course, only Jane, and Caroline's team leader knew this.

He had taken no persuading from Jane; the idea of Caroline bent over half naked in front of him quite appealed.

So that was it, her payroll number found itself magically generated from the other twenty-four of her team.

Dried off Caroline went back to her bedroom, now the big decision, what to wear.

She didn't want to look like she was sexing herself up.

Nor did she want to be onstage like a Miss Prim.

She needed to find a middle way, a plain dress, dark tights; that was easy.

The choosing of her underwear was not so simple.

Something not too sexy, but she didn't want to be standing there like Bridget Jones either.

Having finally decided, she started to get dressed, thinking all the time how Jane would later today be adjusting the clothing that she was now putting on.

Adjusting the clothing, to bare her bottom.

To bend her over the desk.

To paddle her upturned naked rear.

Caroline realised her fingers were shaking; her heartbeat rising.

A panic attack she thought to herself?

Or excitement?

Already she was close to tears, and she hadn't even left for work.


The day at work for Caroline was a huge paradox, it seemed to both drag, and to fly by.
No-one seemed to want to engage in conversation with her, but everyone seemed to want to say

"hi how are you?"

Only to try to gauge what sort of reply they would get, to see how nervous this month's victim was.

She knew what they were doing; she had done it herself only too often; It's not gloating as such. More savouring the moment, bathing in someone else's fears and insecurities.

Today though; she was on the receiving end, and it felt so strange, she was the centre of attention, and....and to her shame she was partly enjoying it.

Well, enjoying it was hardly the right word, but she found that it made her feel somehow, special.

Still though she hoped for a poor attendance. But who was she kidding, there had never been a poor turnout since the scheme had started.



If Caroline felt like a cauldron of mixed emotions about today's coming events. Jane Murray wasn't; this afternoon had been penciled in on Jane's calendar since she received her paddling from Laila, the Malaysian martinet. Jane was well-focused on what she needed to do today, well focused and looking forward to it. Over the last three nights; she had been taken the paddle home with her, to practise on some pillows. The idea had even crossed her mind, if there had been a paddle in the house two years ago, she might still be married. If ever there was a relationship that could have done with some domestic discipline, it was that one, but it was all water under the bridge now.

Also, she had decided, for a bit of a laugh to fill out one of the discipline evaluation sheets that they had used to appoint their nominated paddlers. Not to her surprise she had scored very highly. The last six months had re-awakened long half forgotten teenage fantasies.

Yes, Jane was truly looking forward to this afternoon's punishment session, though, of course, it was never called that.

Motivational Session was the more politically correct title.

Finally, for both ladies the time arrived.

Caroline made her way to the room ten minutes before her audience would arrive, as pre-arranged with Jane.

Standing in the normally lit room behind the podium, looking at the little desk, the whole enormity of her situation hit her.

She was going to get spanked in front of her workmates.

She was most likely going to cry.

She was going to have her bare bottom and have her sex on show.

She was going to have to look these people in the eye and work with them all again next week.

Her knees started to shake; she wanted to run away, and then in walked Jane paddle in hand.

She wanted to cry already.

"OK Caroline," Jane said cheerfully. "I know you are familiar with the procedure."

Caroline nodded glumly; her throat and mouth now feeling too dry for her to speak.

"Of course you are, after all you have never missed a show." Jane said, her voice now dripping with sarcasm.

Then the double doors then flew open, and everyone started to file in, the podium floodlights came on, and the roof lights went out.

Jane took to the podium.

"As you are all aware the S.P.A.N.K.S criteria has been changed slightly to engender better team spirit, and today taking one, well actually eight for the team is Caroline, please step forward Caroline."

Somehow Caroline managed to find the strength within herself to step up on to the bright lit stage, her eyes squinting in the white light.

Prepared for any clothing eventuality, Jane stepped towards her, a roll of masking tape in her hand.

Jane slowly lifted the hem of Caroline's plain green woolen dress at the back, lifting it well clear of the top of her dark tights, and then taped it into position.

Wordlessly Jane turned Caroline around by pushing on her shoulders.

Then slowly again, ever so slowly she lifted the green dress from the front pulling it clear of her tights.

Then she taped the hem to the underside of Caroline's breasts, Jane's eyes locked unblinking on Caroline's.

Then turning her again, so Caroline was now facing her unseen audience, from behind Jane lowered Caroline's tights.

Once her dark tights were at her ankles, Jane's fingers went to the waistband of Caroline's plain mint green knickers.

Caroline struggled to catch her breath, as these too were lowered to her ankles.

Jane managed to stifle a smile as she saw the giveaway little marks on the inside of Caroline's underwear.

After what seemed like an age to Caroline, Jane finally whispered for her to bend over the desk.

With her whole body shaking in anticipation, Caroline got herself as comfortable as she could.

Then she felt the paddle nudging at the inside of her thighs, signaling for her to spread her legs a little wider.

She parted her feet as far as the bunched up clothing around her ankles would allow.

She felt a solitary tear roll down her cheek, at her shame.

Jane had already decided in her head how she was going to play this.

She wanted the maximum reaction in the minimum time, so the paddle came down hard for the first stroke fully across both cheeks.

She waited.

Watching the white mark on Caroline's pale cheeks disappear, then waited for the redness to emerge, she knew now that the heat would be building.

Rather than letting it build then applying another stroke, she brought the paddle across Caroline again, but this time lower, at the underside of Caroline's bottom cheeks.

Caroline squawked out in both pain and surprise.

The third followed onto the top of the first, the fourth onto the second; Caroline was now sobbing hard at only the halfway mark.

Jane stepped back, not to give Caroline a rest, but to change sides and to let the heat build further.

Caroline was also busy trying to dance the pain out of her bottom. She was not aware of Jane moving, so the angle of the fifth stroke caught her by surprise, and no sooner than she had started to react to the new sensation when the sixth arrived at the lower part of her bottom.

Jane waited for Caroline's lurid little dance to stop, bent across the desk trammeling her feet to try and dissipate the heat, each movement bringing different views of her sex and anus to her mesmerised audience.

The final two strokes came down eliciting shrieks of pain from Caroline.

Jane bent over and whispered.

"Standup, turn around, hands on the top of your head, do not rub your arse, or we will start all over again."

Caroline struggled to her feet, the warning ringing in her ears, she turned to face her audience and placed her hands on the top of her head.

The main lights came on; her smiling workmates rose from their seats and filed out in silence.

Once the two of them were alone in the room, Jane put down the paddle and stood in front of Caroline, so close that Caroline could feel Jane's breath on her cheek.

"Next month I expect one hundred and twenty percent of the target from you."

Jane said, her left hand lazily playing with Carolines pubes.

"A bare minimum of one hundred and fifteen."

She continued, her finger now probing at Carolines crease.

"Or you will be getting a private paddling from me in my office."

Caroline pushed her hips against Jane's hand, wanting more contact.

Jane withdrew her hand.

"Now pull up your knickers and sort out your clothes."

Caroline was now on the verge of even more tears at this rejection from her boss.

"Then meet me in the car park."

Jane said stepping off the podium smiling broadly, leaving the half naked girl to try and make herself decent.


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 allowed herself to 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. This pattern seemed to be becoming part of her 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 evaded her, as 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 the head office if she could prove to her uncle that she had things all under control, maybe he would not take matters further.
It was a slim hope, but it was her only real hope. Her uncle's 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. Also, he had worried of the program coming under the eyes of the tabloid press, and the bad publicity that 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 uncle's fascination with corporal punishment. Having been 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 the punishments that were 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 room, 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 perhaps 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 some pointless privilege handed out to the top executives. It served 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 locked the door from the inside, not that anyone would dare enter her bathroom but better safe than sorry.
She then stripped completely and entered her power shower, as she cleansed herself the events of the last few days come to her mind. She thought of the events in England as she soaped 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 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 a picture of anger. Then, she daydreamed of how Jane wouldl get her revenge on her sales team.

What was that girl's name?.... Caroline?

What will her fate be Laila wondered?

Then she heard panting; it brought her back to the room in a start. She realised the gasping was from her 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 a 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 altogether 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 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 its cradle, and headed towards Laila's office. Upon entering unbidden, Simon then took a seat in front of Laila's desk.

Laila arched her finely trimmed black eyebrows, for both her and her uncle the height of protocol should always be observed while 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 a matter 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 the 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 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 real 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 metre 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 swipes with the bamboo rod.

"Right, Mr. Manners, this is only a case of you putting yourself forward for the rest of the department," Laila said in a 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 pants, all the time shaking his head. After his trousers had been 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 too joined his trousers at his knees. Simon was all too 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 onto 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."


PART 5

Laila sat at her desk and wondered how she could have misjudged everything so badly. She had been sure with the things that she had seen and read in England; coupled with Simon's avid advocacy of the S.P.A.N.K.S program, that he would have found the caning to be just as exciting as she had.
She was wrong.
She was very wrong, after his caning had been completed Simon had merely re-adjusted his clothing and left her office in silence. Laila though had found the discipline to be an erotic experience far out weighing any other punishment she had either given or witnessed. She shook her head as she realised she had got yet another thing so wrong, then set about checking her emails as she waited for the inevitable call from her uncle. She did not have long to wait; his secretary rang to say he wanted to see her whole team in the conference room one at four fifteen.

The rest of Lailas' day was taken up with wondering what was going to happen that afternoon. The time came around soon enough, as Laila and the other eleven members of her team filed into the room, Laila couldn't fail to notice the yellow cane lying on the black granite conference table. Nor could she fail to see the look upon her uncles face.

"This does not look good." She thought to herself.

"Ladies, gentlemen, please be seated." Said Mr. Toi, in an unassuming, amicable manner.

They all took their seats apart from Mr. Toi, who remained standing, smiling and nodding to his assembled promotion team. Laila knew her uncle too well not to miss the steely look in his eyes; she wasn't being taken in by his affable facade.

"So," He said, still smiling, "exactly who has been involved in this 'failed program' in Britain?"

Three people held up their hands, Simon Manners, Miss. Chandran and Mrs. Teoh.

"Ah! Miss.Chandran I understand your feelings of responsibility, you being Miss. Tois' secretary, but unless you were directly involved in the decision process that led to this debacle you may lower you hand."

Miss. Chandran smiled with relief as she lowered her arm. Laila stared at the black table top evading her uncle's gaze.

"I see we have no member of the legal department here, with their hands up, did these memos write themselves?"

"Sir I... I had a little to do with drawing up the documents," said Mr. Sanjeet, the promotion teams young Indian lawyer.

"Only a little, Mr. Sanjeet?" Asked Mr. Toi. "I believe you were educated in England."

Mr. Sanjeet nodded glumly.

"So you would be very aware of the sensationalist nature of the English press, and also aware of the employment laws in that country."

"Yes, Mr. Toi, and I had huge misgivings about the program."

Laila stopped looking at the table top to glare in disbelief at Mr. Sanjeet; her uncle caught this look and smiled.

"So, Mr. Sanjeet," Mr. Toi continued in avuncular manner, "you will no doubt have voiced your opinions to the rest of the team?"

Mr. Sanjeet shook his head, and Mr. Toi tutted.

"Mr. Sanjeet and Mrs. Teoh I will see you both tomorrow morning in my office at nine o'clock sharp, and your involvement with be dealt with then. If you are not there, I will take your absence as being you handing in your notice."

They both nodded glumly, only too aware of what that meeting would bring.

"Miss. Toi," Mr. Toi said to his niece. "I noticed you never raised your hand."

Laila coughed to clear her throat then spoke. "I didn't feel the need to as I am involved in all aspects of my department's work, including staff allocation of work and team discipline. Since my return from England, a trip that I found to be very fruitful, having changed their implementation of the program. I have already dealt with our matter of staff discipline."

"The program did not warrant a change in implementation," Mr. Toi butted in, "it needs fazing out in Britain, and all plans to introduce it to other western countries need to be cancelled. Is that understood?"

Laila nodded; her eyes now watery.

"And what staff discipline are you referring to?"

"I have dealt with Mr. Manners."

Mr. Toi seemed to be visibly taken aback that this statement, almost on the verge of laughter he asked. "Really! In what way?"

"As Mr. Manners was the driving force behind the program, I caned him this morning for not looking into all aspects of the problems that a program like this could cause in his homeland."

Now in real danger of laughing, Mr.Toi said, "As I remember events, Miss. Toi, both you and Mr. Manners were keen to push this program through. Both of you chose to ignore my heartfelt objections, assuring me everything would be fine. I also recall telling you both "on your heads be it if it all goes wrong" is that not correct?"

Laila shrugged her shoulders, and lifted her palms face up in the classic Gallic gesture; she knew she was beaten. She also knew now that she was about to be beaten. It was just now a matter of whether it would be public or private.

"I would like to talk now to all the department as a whole," Mr. Toi said, "I understand that Miss. Toi, and to a certain extent Mr. Manners are both looked upon in some sort of awe by the rest of you. I wish to dispel any feelings that you may have that nepotism rules the offices of this company, only consistent results produce promotions in my regime. To reinforce this; and also to teach some rising young things that sometimes a wise old head knows what he is talking about; I plan to make their punishment, a public one. At least to you assembled in this room."

 At that, Mr. Toi clicked his fingers. His secretary quickly ran around the office closing all the blinds, so that anyone, not in the office would not see the following proceedings.
Laila now felt very uncomfortable. She knew her uncle very well, and for all of her love of punishing people when the chance arose, the idea of being punished in front of her peers was bad enough. But being punished in front of her lessor's was plain awful. She now knew that that was exactly what her uncle had in mind. She and Simon were indeed going to be caned in front of her whole department.

"Miss. Toi," her uncle said still sounding amicable, "can you and Mr. Manners move to the front of the room and prepare yourselves?"

Laila stood up from her seat and walked, head held high to Mr. Tois' side. Laila knew only too well what was expected of her, and as a lead to Simon, Laila took off her jacket and placed it across the set of drawers behind them. Then she rolled up her suit skirt and tucked the hem into its waistband, revealing her white panties to her ever watchful audience.
Then in a token gesture born more from hope than from experience she said.

"Please, sir may I keep my panties up?"

In total silence, Mr. Toi shook his head.
Laila lowered her knickers to her knees, revealing her trimmed jet black bush to all in the room.
Simon looked on stunned by her display; then he too came forward like Laila before him he bared his lower body for punishment.

"In a difference to the usual protocol," Mr. Toi said, "today it will be gentlemen before ladies. Mr. Manners could you come forward and bend over, please."

As Simon moved to take his place, Mr. Toi caught sight of Simon's already latticed behind.

"Miss. Toi, how many strokes has Mr. Manners already had?" Asked Laila's uncle.

"Six, sir, six very hard ones." Replied Laila.

Mr. Toi nodded, and then said. "My intention was to give Mr. Manners eight strokes, but as he has already received six strokes, his sentence is reduced to two. Miss. Toi shall receive twelve strokes, as I see her as being the main culprit for the position that we are in at the moment."

Simon breathed a sigh of relief, and Laila gulped; the rest of the room tried to hold back their glee at the thought of the boss and her little pet getting a good caning. Mr. Toi picked up the cane and asked Simon to touch his toes. The two strokes were perfunctory, quickly laid on to his naked behind, one after the other with virtually no break between the two swishes.
But for all they were rapidly applied it made them no less painful. For an old man, he could still wield a wicked stick, and Simon was all too aware that there would be another two weal's joining the six that Laila had so over enthusiastically placed upon him. Mr. Toi motioned with his cane for Simon to stand to one side; Simon attempted to re-adjust his clothing but was met with.

"No, Mr. Manners, I see no need for you to be pulling up your clothing until your partner in ineptitude is also dealt with."

Those words stung Laila more than her uncle's cane would, or at least so she thought upon hearing them.

"Miss. Toi, please." Her uncle said, motioning to the vacated spot left by Simon.

Laila took the required position, bent forward her hands gripping hard at the back of her knees. The first stroke cut into her light brown buttocks, and she felt the tears start to rise within her, by the seventh stroke she was openly in tears, and crying for mercy from her uncle. Her uncle though was not feeling in any way merciful; all he said was.

"Let this be a lesson for all of you. No one in my business is immune from discipline should the need occur. I would advise you all that when you get home tonight, instead of watching television,"

He brought down the eighth and ninth strokes across Laila's naked behind by way of punctuation, emphasised on by her screams of pain.

"you should all thinking of a replacement bonus scheme that we can  implement in Britain; that will both appease the staff and not cost the company." Strokes ten and eleven reinforced his statement, leastways Laila's cries reinforced it. Stroke twelve, like Laila with Simon, was aimed at the little crease between the bottom cheeks and the top of her thighs. Like his niece, his aim was true, as the cane lashed across her upper thighs Laila howled out in agony.

"OK, Miss. Toi you may now stand," her uncle told Laila.

As Laila struggled back into an upright position, she could see through her watery eyes that her punishment had an effect on at least one male in the room. Simon was standing with his hands on his head, and his cock pointing skywards.

"Mr. Manners," Mr. Toi said, "you may now readjust your clothing. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for your time, you may now leave, and I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow. Remember, Mr. Sanjeet and Mrs. Teoh I will be seeing you both at nine o'clock in the morning."

 With that the room silently emptied, apart from Mr. Toi and his still half naked, sobbing niece. Once the room was empty, Mr.Toi stood behind his niece and said.

"Something for you to concentrate upon for the next twenty minutes."

Having said that he placed the cane between his niece's buttocks, and Laila gripped upon it with her bottom cheeks.
Fighting back the tears, she stood there, holding the cane in that obscene way knowing all too well the risk she ran of letting it fall to the floor. Once she had seen her uncle punish a maid in a similar manner for breaking a crystal decanter. For every time, she let the cane fall to the floor; her uncle gave the maid another cut of the cane and restarted her allocated time. Two and a half hours, the poor girl, stood there, earning herself seven extra cuts. Laila had no intention of that happening to her, so through her tears she concentrated on that cane between her cheeks like her very life depended on it.

POST SCRIPT.
Once her ordeal at her uncles hands was over, Laila went back to her penthouse overlooking Merlion Park, tonight though the view did not interest her. All she wanted was a long cold bath. Stripping off while the water ran, she thought of today's events and all their implications, how could she face her staff tomorrow after today's public humiliation? Then other thoughts, even worse ones ran through her head as she lowered herself into the cooling water. She heard a noise that she was dreading as she lay there in the large corner bath.

The sound of her fiance coming into the apartment, how could she explain herself?

The bathroom door opened, and he walked in, looking down at the naked girl in the water, her brown nipples peeking up from under the soapy suds, he asked.

"does it help then?" His voice was surprisingly soft and full of care.

"A little." She replied.

As her fiance stripped himself to join her, Laila looked at his naked welted buttocks. As he lowered himself into the cold soothing water, she said.

"I'm so sorry Simon."


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