Chapter 6: Back To Work

It was the following morning when Amanda rang David again in the office. Her opening sentence was, “I have done my duty. Now it’s your turn, preferably today What time can you come to my place and sort out Yvonne’s punishment?”

David thought and then said, “I have a couple of things to do here first. I could be at your place about half past three or four o’clock, will that do?”

“Fine, and thanks again in advance.”

I’d better take my old slipper with me, otherwise my hand may hurt like hell if I’m expected to give her a real experience to remember. I wonder what she looks like? A young woman would really turn me on, but some sixteen year olds are still children, no tits, no pubes, no sophistication.

Just before four o’clock he drove up to the James’s house. He noted that it was a smallish cottage, but happily for their purpose it was some distance from the nearest other dwelling, and well down a little used lane. Good, he thought, nobody will hear no matter how loud she screams.

Amanda opened the front door as he got out of the car. I was beginning to wonder if he was coming. I’ve had her ready for almost half an hour. Still that’s no bad thing as it has given her time to worry. I didn’t tell her who was coming or what for.

On entering the living room David was confronted by the sight of a bare bum with pubic hair very visible between wide spread legs. It appeared that Yvonne had been handcuffed face down sideways over a dining chair with her legs and arms fastened separately to the chair’s four legs. Altogether the perfect position for spanking and fucking, he thought, I wonder if mother and daughter both expect both punishments? Only one way to find out.

Yvonne was craning her neck to see who had come in to the house, and she let out a screech when she saw that it was a man she had never met. “Who’s this bloke mum, and what’s he doing here? This position is so humiliating in front of a strange man.”

“Get used to it,” her mother snapped unfeelingly, “He is Mr. Ransome and he is here to give you your punishment.”

“What punishment?”

“A spanking for shoplifting. And it will hurt I hope.”

David nodded and took off his jacket, taking the slipper out of the side pocket. “If I might have a chair beside her, it will be more convenient and effective if I am sitting down.”

“Of course,” said Amanda and brought him one.

Sitting down, David addressed the victim, “Now Yvonne, you realise why you are here, I assume. You were caught shoplifting and your mother has decided you are to be spanked, and has asked me to do that. Such punishments are traditionally delivered ‘on the bare’ and that tradition is for a good reason. When people were flogged in the past, any clothing they might have had would be damaged by the whip whereupon torn and dirty shreds of cloth could get into the wounds left on the flesh which would then turn infected and could be dangerous. I continue that tradition. It is nothing to do with seeing you naked, though that is a side benefit I don’t mind accepting. Now you will count each stroke so that I will know when to stop, and when I have stopped you will thank me.”

She whimpered a little and then asked, “How many strokes will I get?”

“As many as your mother and I agree are enough. I certainly won’t tell you in advance, as it would spoil the suspense.”

SPLAT!

With no further ado he struck out with the slipper hard on to one cheek of her arse, and watched as it coloured most beautifully.

Yvonne flinched but did not cry out, nor did she count.

“That one does not count,” said David, “Since you did not count it.”

“One, please, one?” she begged, “just this once? I promise to count all the others. Honest,”