Wednesday, 25 February 2015

Welcome To The Hotel Gomorrah (part2)

Heather stood in the living room of her cottage though cottage was actually a misnomer. The building was the old gatehouse, going back to the time when the hotel was a manor house. When the manor was then converted to a hospital, the gatehouse and the drive from the gatehouse both became redundant. The small track was nowhere near capable of handling the extra traffic, so a larger driveway was made linking the hospital to the main road to its north.
The gatehouse then became an ad-hoc storage area for gardening equipment and decorating paraphernalia, it was basically a glorified workman's shed.

Once Heather saw the rundown building she fell in love with it. She viewed it as an Easter Egg, a surprise acquisition, as it came with the purchase of the hospital even though it was not listed in the original documentation.
She could not believe the estate agent who told her. “Yes Miss Moore, the gatehouse is covered in the price of the main premises, as are the extensive gardens.”

The gatehouse had not been a deal-maker, but it had certainly sweetened the pot. She decided then and there that the gatehouse was to be her home and to be partitioned off from the hotel. When the day came to sell the hotel, she would reopen the original drive, and retain the gatehouse as her residence.
For now though, the only access to her oddly shaped home was via the grounds of the hotel, which gave her the seclusion that she so enjoyed.

So, now, standing in her semi-circular living room, she looked out of the hotel facing window, waiting for Michaela's arrival.
Her plan was to give Michaela a choice, she would take Heather's discipline, and the previous night's shenanigans would be forgotten, the slate would be wiped clean.
Or, Michaela's other option was to be dismissed, as of today, for gross misconduct.

Should Michaela choose to take the latter option, it would throw Heather's timetable for today into disarray. That, however, seemed to be the least likely outcome, Heather was pretty confident that Michaela would take the discipline. With that in mind, she looked down on her small dining table and smiled to herself.
Lying there on the table was a vicious looking, but, in fact, innocuous riding crop. Next to that lay the innocuous looking, but very hard wooden paddle.

“More choices for miss Nichols to make,” She said aloud to herself, then added, “and here she is now!”

Heather could see her forlorn looking victim walking towards her house. Today she was not dressed in a business suit, today she was wearing jeans, and a sweatshirt. A bit of a disappointment for Heather, as she had hoped to lift Michaela's skirt in the manner that Ralph had last night.

Heather now studied Michaela in a way she never had before. She was slim, not very tall, only coming up to Heather's shoulders though, at five foot ten inches tall, Heather did tend to loom over most females. Michaela's chestnut brown hair was today pulled back in a ponytail, accenting her sharp facial features.

Heather did not wait for the knock on her door; she opened the door just before Michaela reached it and ushered her into her living room. Before Michaela had a chance to take in the oddness of the room's architecture, Heather started talking to, or rather admonishing, her twenty-five-year-old manager.

“Well, Miss Nicols, we seem to be in a bit of a pickle here aren't we? I'm not at all sure as how to fairly address this situation. We could just ignore it altogether, or perhaps even make a commercial play upon it. Our receptionists could wear badges, saying 'Welcome To The Hotel Gomorrah', we could get online reviews recommending our 'hot running barmaids'. Do you think any of these ideas or viable miss Nicols?”

Michaela stood in the centre of the room; her eyes cast down at the floor.

“I asked you are any of these ideas viable miss Nicols.”

“No Heather, they are not.” She finally replied, her voice little more than a whisper.

“So in my position what would you do?...Oh, and, by the way, don't call me Heather, call me Miss!”

“I don't know...probably fire me Miss.”

“Well, I can't lie; that was my original intention.” Heather lied. “Then I decided I was being a little foolish in getting rid of someone who until now had proven to be a valuable employee. So, I decided to give you an option, or rather a couple of choices.”

For the first time since Michaela entered the house, her eyes now met with Heather's. Heather could see the hope in Michaela's pale blue eyes.

“Yes, if you take my discipline now, that will be the end of the matter!”

“Your discipline Heather...I mean Miss...I don't understand what you mean?” Michaela said in apparent confusion.

“Last night you seemed to very keen for Mr Morson to spank you?” Heather said, her voice giving no hint of any emotion.

“Well...we were only larking about...” Michaela mumbled her eyes again focussed upon the floor.

“I know, my plan is to show you what a real spanking feels like, not a larking about one. Then you will have another option, after your spanking you will have either a paddling or a whipping.”

“What! You can't possibly be serious?”

“Oh, I'm serious miss Nicols, the choices are yours. Go now, and find another job. Stay and get spanked, followed by a paddling or a whipping.”

“I don't even know what a paddling is....” Michaela said her voice now starting to break.

Heather picked up the paddle from the dining table and handed it to Michaela, then Heather picked up the crop, flexing it in an almost cliched manner.

“Well, those are your choices...”

“But, I don't want to be spanked...paddled or whipped,” Michaela whined.

“Yes, well I don't want to have to spank you. Just as I don't want to fire you, but you have painted me into a corner. As I said, the choice is yours.”

“Will it hurt Miss?”

“Of course, it will hurt silly girl, but then the slate will be clear,” Heather said, now not even trying to hide her amusement at her employee's predicament.

“OK...I'll take the spanking...and this,” Michaela said holding up the paddle.

“Wise decision,” Heather said, placing the crop back onto the table. She then started to pull one of the dining chairs into the centre of the room, she then sat down upon it, “shall we begin then?”

“What...what happens now Miss?” Michaela asked in abject confusion.

“Put the paddle on the table, and then stand here,” Heather said pointing at the floor to her right-hand side.

In silence, the now defeated Michaela complied with her boss's instructions.

“Mr Morson seemed to take delight in spanking you over your knickers, I, on the other hand, believe that a spanking is only a spanking when it is delivered to a bare bottom!” Heather said as her hands went to the waistband of Michaela's jeans.

“Please Miss...” Michaela whined half-heartedly.

Heather could feel Michaela's whole body stiffen up as she unbuttoned her jeans. Slowly, as slowly as she could, Heather pulled the jeans clear of Michaela's hips, revealing a pair of plain full cut black knickers.

“Now, as I said earlier, these have to come down as well.”

As if Michaela needed any reminder, that her punishments were going to be on her bare bottom. As the knickers slowly started their descent to join the previously lowered jeans, Heather gasped in surprise.

“Oh my, miss Nicols, are you an old fashioned girl or just plain lazy? I have never seen a fanny this hairy, except in films from the nineteen seventies!”

“I just like to be natural...” Michaela replied, choking back a sob.

“Ah well, each to their own I suppose, I believe that some men prefer the hirsute look. Over you pop now, and we can begin.” Heather said, her overly cheerful tone masking the gravity of the situation for Michaela.

Once Michaela was in position across her lap, Heather quickly checked her watch; it was nine-fifteen. Her timetable for the morning was running to schedule.
Though Heather would never consider herself to be bi-sexual, she did appreciate the female form, and moreover she gained a certain sexual frisson from being in a position of dominance. She slowly ran her hand across Michaela's waiting bottom, feeling the firm, but also giving flesh of her well-rounded orbs. Michaela had a small behind though both cheeks were well rounded and in no way could her rear be called boyish. No, she was one hundred percent feminine, only smaller compared to Heather's frame.

“Yes, I think I am going to enjoy this next half hour.” Heather thought to herself as she brought down the first stinging slaps onto that yielding flesh.

Michaela surprised herself at how well she was taking the spanking. Sure it felt uncomfortable, but nowhere near as bad as she had expected. In fact, in a weird way, it was a kind of a pleasant sensation, as the heat slowly built up. The lead up to the spanking had been much worse the actaulité of the punishment. The way Heather had browbeaten her, and then the way she had been stripped, were both far worse than what she was feeling now. Of course, now she realised that the humiliation was all part of the punishment. It was as if Heather was dishing out a meal, one course at a time.

“Now miss Nicols, I know you may not believe this, but I'm actually doing you a favour by spanking you,” Heather said still keeping her voice ever so bright. “By warming you up like this, the paddle will not feel anywhere near as bad as it would upon cold flesh. Should we ever find ourselves in a similar situation again, I will not be so kind, and it will be on cold flesh.”

As she spoke those words, Heather slowed down the spanking; her hand was now coming down much harder as if to emphasise certain words. Each slap was causing Michaela to grunt out in pain, the enjoyable warmth was now being replaced by something altogether less comfortable.

“I think that will do for now,” Heather said, helping Michaela back to her feet.“ after all this is only the beginning.”

Once upon her feet, Michaela started to rub furiously at her stinging nates, this rubbing causing her hips to involuntary push forward towards Heather's face.

“Really miss Nicols, I don't need to have a closer inspection of your ample bush!”

Those words causing Michaela's face to flush nearly as red as her bottom.

“I'm sorry Miss I didn't mean to...” Michaela said her voice trailing off as she could not think of how to end the sentence.

“Shush, never mind all that,” Heather interjected. “I want you to now take off your jeans and knickers.”

“Er...they are off Miss?”

“No, they are down, not off. I want them off entirely.”

“Why Miss?”

This question had an adverse effect upon Heather's until now jovial mood. Before Michaela could register what was happening, Heather had grabbed her left arm, pulled her closer towards herself, and was now slapping the fronts of Michaela's thighs.

“When..I...say...I...want...something...done...I ...want...it...done...OK," Heather said through gritted teeth emphasising each word with a harsh slap.

“Yes Miss, I'm sorry Miss,” Michaela replied, quickly squatting down to untie the laces of her training shoes.

Heather stood over her, smiling at just how well things were going, then an idea crossed her mind as she watched Michaela struggle with her laces. She checked her watch, yes, she still had plenty of time.

“You know miss Nicols,” Heather started lying, “when I was at university, I played for the netball team. Our coach was a strange old bird; she was an ex-forces physical instructor. She had a quite a lot of out-dated ideas when it came to her training methods. Outdated, but still quite effective, if she felt that any of us were not listening, or following her instructions. She would just ask the girl in question to take off one of her plimsolls, and then give her a couple of whacks on her arse with it, just to reinforce her message of obedience.
This was long after corporal punishments in schools had been banned, and, of course, corporal punishment was never a university thing anyway. You know, I don't even think she looked upon it as being a punishment, I believe she just saw it as a good way to remind people of who was in charge.”

Michaela looked up and already knew what was coming next.

“Pass me one of your shoes please miss Nicols.”

Knowing there was no point in arguing, Michaela complied with her boss's command.

“If you would like to stand up, then bend over, grabbing the backs of your knees with your hands.”

Now, totally naked from the waist down, Michaela followed her instruction.

“No, not quite like that,” Heather said, “legs shoulders width apart....yes that's better...head lower please, and push your bottom up...yes that's perfect. Have you any idea of the view I have now? I'm sure you have...the charms that Mr Morson seemed so keen to handle are now quite openly on view. It's a shame that he isn't here eh?”

Michaela looked down to the floor, watching as her first tear splashed upon the carpet.

“These modern trainers are so light, you will probably hardly even feel the two whacks, plimsolls were surprisingly stingy.” As she said that, Heather brought the shoe down quickly, one whack on each cheek. Both impacts, causing, a pleasing to Heather's ears, grunt from Michaela.

“As I suspected,” Heather said, throwing the shoe to one side, “very ineffective. No, don't get up yet miss Nicols! I have to satisfy my curiosity about something.”

Michaela then felt Heather's hand upon her bottom again, only this time the hand was lower between her parted bottom cheeks. Next, to Michaela's shock and disgust, she felt one of Heather's fingers probing the lips of her sex, causing her to jump upright, and shout.

“You fucking pervert...I'm not a lezzer!”

“Shush!” Heather said calmly, but in a manner that would brook no argument “You silly girl, I was just checking if the spanking had got you wet, and look it has!”

Michaela sighed in despair as she saw Heather's glistening middle finger. The despair turned to disgust, as Heather smiled sweetly and sucked her finger clean.

“Don't worry miss Nicols, it's not unusual for a lady to get a little wet when being spanked, I think it has something to do with blood flow. Also, don't worry, I have no designs to seduce you, my tastes lay very much in other directions.”

Heather then picked up the small wooden paddle from the table.

“In the USA, these are often known as The Board Of Education, I think that is such a good name don't you?”

Michaela stood in silence, wide-eyed like a rabbit caught in car headlamps staring at the paddle in Heather's hand.

“Now it may surprise you just how hard this little toy can hit, in fact of the two, the crop would have been a better choice,” Heather said, now back to her previous sing-song tone of cheeriness. “So, with that in mind, you are going to get off with a mere six of the best, in the hope of educating you against flirting with my customers. However, they will be six of the best, three on each of your cute little rosy cheeks. Then after a little corner time for you to reflect upon this morning, you can be on your way, and the slate will be wiped clean OK?”

Michaela had come this far, to back out now at the final hurdle would be sheer stupidity.

“Yes Miss.” Came Michaela's reluctant reply.

“Now there's a good girl, you know it makes sense. Back over as before please, you know the drill. I have to warn you though, these will hurt, hurt quite a lot. However, keep in position, if you jump up, the pop won't count, that's what the call them in the States. Pops!” Heather said in a light, conversational tone.

The first pop hit Michaela's right cheek, the initial impact hurt, but not to the extent that Heather said it would. “This isn't going to be too bad”, Michaela thought to herself, then though she felt that pain turn to heat, and then the heat emanated outwards from the initial contact area.

“It's a shame you can't see this miss Nicols, the little holes in the board are supposed to make it aerodynamic, which I really doubt very much. It does though make such a lovely pattern, even upon your already, very rosy tail!”

The next pop was on her left cheek; again the sensation was the same, pain followed by the unbearable heat. Unbearable heat that she knew she would have to bear.

And, bear it she did.

By the time she received the sixth and final pop, Michaela was openly sobbing; all attempts at composure had fled, as she concentrated on holding her position.

“Very good miss Nicols, you took that really well,” Heather said, congratulating her employee. “Now if you would like to go to the back of the room. Nose to the wall and hands upon the top of your head, you can reflect upon the events of the last two days for half an hour. Oh, and, by the way, no rubbing that pretty little arse!”

Still tearful, but now totally submitted, Michaela obeyed without question. She stood for what to her seemed to her like a burning age. But, was in fact only fifteen minutes; when she then heard, to her terror, a knock at the front door of the cottage.
She twisted around at her hips, though still not moving from her allocated spot, her hands still on top of her head, her eyes full of fear as she stared at Heather.

Heather looked at her watch and said “That will be Mr Morson.”


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