Interns 2


At 2 pm precisely, precisely nothing happened. When the knock at the door came - actually it sounded as if she'd just kicked it a couple of times - it was creeping up to ten past and I was seething quietly. I should have made her wait out there, but of course that thought occurred to me only as I was opening the door, far too late to stop her sweeping in without a hint of an apology.

"If you would be so kind as to go through and take your clothes off " I said drily as she stood there nonchalantly, daring me to take command of the situation. She grinned and strolled casually into the bedroom, glancing back over her shoulder as if she was summoning me.

I followed her into the bedroom where she stood, still smiling, and making no attempt to disrobe. Feeling a pressing need to regain control of matters I reached up and yanked her down to her knees by her hair, and treated her to a firm slap across her face. It was intensely satisfying and her little smirk vanished in an instant. "When I say strip, I mean now, not when you feel like it."

Eyeing me more guardedly now, she slowly stood up and began to strip off, cautiously at first and then subtly flaunting her excellent physique. Stepping out of the last of her clothes she stretched and yawned and then stood challengingly, hands on hips, unperturbed by her naked ness. She had drawn herself up to her full height and tilted her head back slightly to exaggerate her height advantage looking down on me.

I felt control slipping away from me and hurried to seize back the initiative, in the form of her nipples, which were thrust invitingly in my face. With each held delicately between thumb and forefinger I smiled and squeezed. As I increased the pressure her grin slowly became fixed and then a grimace as she gritted her teeth. Only when her hands left her hips and started hesitatingly to lift up towards the source of her extreme discomfort, did I start to pull down, so that she was obliged to start dipping at the knees. As her face came down level with mine I looked into her eyes, smiled beatifically and pinched harder. I was rewarded by a gasp and a wide eyed start.

She was biting her lip now as I continued the downward pull on her breasts, bringing her down level with my own breastbone: just too high to kneel down so she splayed out her buckling legs in a most satisfactorily ungainly way. "Look at me." I murmured quietly, and as she looked up at me with watering eyes I looked down on her, still with my serene smile, before dropping her on the floor with a final vigorous pinch of her sore nipples. She yelped, collapsed in a heap and curled up massaging the discomfort in her breasts.

I poked her with the toe of my shoe. "Don't lie around on the floor playing with yourself: go and get a barstool and bring it her. Now" I added emphasis with another poke.

She lifted herself off the floor, disappeared into the other room and came back a moment later with the barstool. She looked slightly more dishevelled than before.

"Get down on your hand and knees," I said politely, "You seem to get ideas above yourself if I let you stand up."

I settled myself on the barstool and surveyed her. Her left breast was hanging invitingly close to my foot, so I jiggled it playfully. She snorted and flinched away slightly, so I jiggled it some more and then stretched out to play footsie with the other one as well. She wriggled some more and I continued the undignified foot play with her dangling titties, interspersing it with a little light massage of my toe between her legs.

"OK, I think it's time to give some attention elsewhere." I pushed up with my foot. "Get up here over my knee."

She managed a that-really-isn't-going-to-bother-me smile as she moved to settle herself over my knee. I hooked my right leg over hers and pulled her in close. She was grasping the cross bar of the stool to steady herself, so I demanded she give me her right hand which I grasped firmly with my left. Her grip on the cross bar held steady with her left hand, so I made her give me that hand too and she was left dangling freely and unsupported, immersed in a cloud of her own hair. I hoped it tickled.

I slapped her hard on her upturned buttocks and was rewarded with a slight grunt. I think she had underestimated my abilities as a hand spanker. There's an art to it and I'd had, well, a *certain* amount of practice. I continued a rhythmic assault, about one per second, each a good hard slap, moulding my hand into the curve of her backside and squeezing each ringing blow home. I felt the warm flesh begin to glow under my palm and every half dozen or so slaps I stopped to massage and caress her. As her neat buns took on a fiery red glow and she began to grow more than a little damp from my delicate probings I felt a strong urge to kiss it better. But I was afraid I'd drop her.

"How are you getting on down there?" I enquired solicitously, "Still quite comfortable?"

The only reply I received was a slightly strained grunt . I affected a tone of deep concern. "Tsk, tsk, that won't do at all. I can't put up with you just mumbling away. You know this is for your own good."

For a second or two she might have supposed this' to be her quietly glowing backside, at least until I pinched a fold of the soft skin under the (annoyingly tiny) crease of her buttock. She yelped and jumped deliciously and we enjoyed a minute or so of disconnected jerking and squealing while I explained patiently that thisandthisandthisandthis were for her own good too.

"There now, wasn't that fun?" I cooed at her, treating her to another healthy slap on her backside. She was still trying to catch her breath and I could feel the tension in her stomach muscles as they strained to support her body weight over the edge of my knee. I pressed the nails of my index finger and thumb into her buttock crease and began to draw them slowly together. As she reluctantly agreed, between gasps, that yes, it had been *ever* such a lot of fun and yes, she certainly *had* enjoyed it, I could see the muscles tightening, trying to draw in every last bit of loose flesh in anticipation of another assault. I contented myself with another half dozen vigorous slaps and her behind and then unceremoniously dumped her on the floor.

I stood up and stretched to restore the circulation in my legs and then poked the dishevelled heap on the floor with the toe of my shoe while it was curled over massaging its sore buttocks. "Come on, sit up. Let's see what you look like."

She unwound and sat up, wincing slightly as the carpet scraped at he more tender spots. Despite still being rather red faced from dangling over my lap she had recovered most of her earlier composure. I smiled back at her and turned to pick up a favourite little toy of mine from the dressing table. "Just sit up and put your hands on your knees for me, will you."

I turned to face her as she sat grinning at me, arms clasped about her knees. "Tsk, tsk, tsk," I tutted in mock dismay, "I said hands *on* knees, and just look at them. Naughty hands."

"Naughty, naughty hands" I said, putting down the thick 18" plastic ruler I'd just picked up and replacing it with a whippy rattan cane. "Just hold out those naughty hands for me, will you. No, one either side, I think. Palm up."

I flexed the cane and whipped it through the air a couple of times, while she sat arms out to the side, palms up like a Hindu goddess with a deficiency of arms, waiting for an unwelcome offering. I smiled at her and she glowered darkly at me. Can blondes glower darkly? I don't know, but she gave it her best shot and I gave her mine.

A little tremor ran up her arm and her expression became rather fixed. After her left hand received its offering her arms began to shake a little. "Well say thank you' then, " I grumbled. "*I'm* going to all this trouble to teach these naughty hands a lesson and they're *your* hands."

After eliciting a nice thank you from her I was happy to re-emphasise that they were naughty hands. Very naughty, naughty hands.

And so we resumed where we'd left off. Her sitting on the floor with her legs drawn up, gingerly holding her knees, me with my thick plastic ruler. I knelt down in front of her and tapped at the inside of her thighs. "Come on, spread them, you can get them further apart than that."

She stretched a little further in her ungainly and uncomfortable position, opening herself up to me. I reached forward and explored her, looking her in the eye as I gently manipulated her. I ran my lips over the inside of her thigh, lightly kissing her hot flesh. As I probed a little deeper I saw her eyes begin to close and her hips start to twitch, giving little jerky thrusts as she sank deeper into the pleasures of my touch. So I stopped.

She breathed hard and looked hungrily at me as I withdrew. I slapped her hard on the inside of her thigh with the plastic ruler and she howled. I liked that, so I repeated the slap, several more times., on both legs. As the skin grew cherry red under the stinging assault her eyes began to close again, but this time to the accompaniment of gritted teeth instead of the panting of desire. Her control over posture began to fall apart.

"Look at me while I'm doing this unless you want this bit to last a lot, lot longer." Her eyes opened, slightly filmy and watering and I savoured the look in them at each hard smack. When her legs began to involuntarily squeeze together I slapped at the sorest looking piece of skin I could see and hissed threats: If her hands showed signs of lifting from her knees I offered her another taste of the cane. I stopped when her self control was showing signs of giving way and I kindly allowed her to feel the burning surface of her scarlet, aching thighs.

I stood up, helped her to her feet and led her over to the bed: not to lie on it but to drape her over the end. I sat beside stroking her burning skin with a cool hand, giving her gentle spanks on her delightful firm bum and insinuating my fingers into her. I bent over her, kissing the small of her back, sliding my other hand under her, holding her close, joining us in the gentle and insistent rhythm of my fingers below. It seemed a pity to withdraw and leave her hanging there on the brink, but....

My cane was waiting. I arranged her rump a little higher with a thick pillow, which she tried to squeeze between her thighs before hastily deciding that squeezing anything there was not currently a good idea. I took my stance, measured my aim with extreme care and raised a livid vertical weal on her left buttock. She groaned and dug her nails into the bedding. Her groan was louder at the second parallel stroke, and she almost screamed when I cut across them with a vicious slash from the tip of the cane which raised a short, glaring horizontal welt.

As she clawed at the bedclothes I turned my attention to the other side and gave her two sharp diagonal strokes in rapid succession. She bucked and yelled at that and as the quivering died down I moved across and very, very, carefully gave her two more vivid diagonal stripes from the other side.

I couldn't contain myself any longer, threw the cane aside and my face between her legs. She came boiling up again under my ministrations and barely squeaked as I withdrew and rolled her over onto her tender behind. We merged together into one bucking, frenzied mass until we were both spent.

Some considerable time later she tumbled out of bed and stumbled about getting dressed in a haphazard sort of fashion. The glaring red colour had faded a bit from her thighs, but the weals on her backside stood out in sharp relief, purply red with a promise of bruises slow to fade. She ran her fingers cautiously over the ridges in her flesh and said "These feel really prominent, I'll have to put some cream on them when I get home."

I smiled beatifically. I was soooo glad there were no squiggly letters like S in my initials. But should I have put them on opposite buttocks so they read right in a mirror? No, they were fine as they were. "Yes, you should massage some cream in twice a day until the marks fade" I agreed.

I hugged myself with glee: ten days at least of reading my masterpiece.. .......


The previous part of this spanking story is at Interns 1

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