JENNIFER by Helier  (M/F cons)

Jennifer trailed along the hedgerows feeling the tall wild flowers and
grasses brushing against her fingers.   The air felt soft this afternoon,
that late summer warmth that seems to bring out the richest scents
and colours.   She stopped at the top of a hill and looked out over the
lush green landscape.   She could have been out for any Sunday
afternoon walk but it was more than that.    She felt nervous.

All week long the feeling had been building.  Of course what she was
doing now was crazy and potentially very embarrassing but she just
had to know.    Professor Erikson was everywhere.   He was
beginning to figure in her dreams - tall with blue-grey eyes and hair
the colour of white sand.   All she knew of him was that his father was
Danish and his mother Finnish and that he had never been married.  
She guessed he was in his mid-thirties.   Apart from working in his
office assisting Greta, his secretary, Jennifer was doing post-
graduate studies in literature under his supervision.    It was scary to
be so dependent on him for everything when at the same time she
felt almost crippled with desire for him.   It was driving her nuts.

Greta was a cool confident brunette with fine olive skin.   She was
married now and had a child but she had worked for him for a long
time.   She talked a lot about earlier times but when he was
mentioned there would always be a sultry little smile on her lips and
she would fall silent if Jennifer asked too much.   All she would say is
that he helped her a lot when she first arrived and was feeling lonely
and out of her depth.    The memory of it seemed to make her quite
shy and Jennifer could only guess at what she was thinking of at
those times.

Jennifer was curious because 'lonely and out of her depth' was very
like she was feeling.   In the office it was easy enough because Greta
told her what needed doing and none of it was very complicated.  
Professor Ericsson had published a lot of studies that were in
demand in industry and business.   Most of their work related to the
distribution of his papers and arrangements for his speaking
engagements and workshops.   It was in her own studies that she
had trouble.   He seemed to understand immediately where her
problem lay.

"You have to be able to motivate yourself now," he said to her at their
last session.   "You have to want to do it."

That wasn't so easy for her.   During her college years her parents
lived only a few miles away and were both a huge help to her.    They
had always got on well and her studies gave them a common
interest.   She had done the work for the excellent degree she
finished with, but really the motivation had been very much tied to
them.   In a sense she had found it easier because she felt she was
doing it for her parents rather than for herself.   Now she was on her
own.   After such good results a lot was expected of her but she
couldn't focus on it so easily anymore."

"If you were little it would be easy to motivate you," Professor
Ericsson said.

"How?"

He laughed hugely.

"I would give you a spanking and put you in the corner," he said.  
"And next time you would do the work to avoid the spanking.  
Simple!   Now it's different."

But was it?   She so much wanted him to notice her that it seemed
strange that that wasn't motivation enough in itself.   It was as though
something in her had made up its mind that she would get more
attention from him by failing and now she just couldn't budge the idea.

On Tuesday she had been talking to two girls in the university
refectory - Linda and Millie.    She didn't know them really well but
they had always been kind to her and were certainly a lot of fun.   
Millie was from an island in the Caribbean.    Her skin was very dark
and she was incredibly pretty, Jennifer thought, with her big flashing
smile.    Linda was English, pale with almost black hair and a wicked
sense of humour.    They were giggling about Linda's new boyfriend
who it seemed was being made to feel more than a little bewildered
by Linda's demands.   They both obviously knew what they were
talking about and Jennifer was overcome with curiousity.   Her
questions sent them off into a new round of giggles.   

"You don't want to know, Jennifer," Millie said.

"Yes, I do."

"No, she doesn't," hissed Linda.

"Linda likes ... "

Linda grabbed her arm but Millie pulled away.

"Shut up."

" ... to have her bottom sp ... "

Linda had her round the neck and Millie collapsed in giggles.

"She likes it herself even more," Linda said to Jennifer.

"And he's too scared."   Millie struggled to speak through her laughter
and Linda's hand.

Linda slapped her arm and they both erupted in giggles again.  
Jennifer was staring at them in amazement.

"You mean like ... a lot?" she asked.

"Oooh, baby ..."

"Millie!" Linda said.

"Oh, no.  Not a lot."   Millie corrected herself then added quickly.  
"Just three times a day on her bare ass."

Linda grabbed her again

"With her Mommy's hairbrush!"  Millie just managed to get out.

Linda held on to her this time.

"She's behaving badly because then she thinks I'll spank her bare
bum when we get home."

She stiffled Millie's protests.

"But actually," she continued threateningly into Millie's ear.    "If she
doesn't behave herself she won't be spanked for a month."

Abruptly Millie stopped struggling.   She glanced anxiously at Linda
and sat up, suddenly subdued.

"See," mocked Linda.  "See how worried she is - see who likes it
most."

Millie whooped with laughter and they fought again.   Jennifer grinned
at them and shook her head.

"What's this girl gonna think?" Millie said.

"Take no notice of us," said Linda, smiling.   "Have you ever had your
bottom spanked, Miss Jennifer."

"No," said Jennifer, quickly.

"Don't tell anyone about us, please," Linda pleaded quietly.

"Of course not.   I wouldn't know how to begin."

"Or else it will be straight over Miss Millie's knee for you, my girl,"
Linda said in an English schoolma'am voice.   They all giggled.

Jennifer went away in a complete daze.   She could feel herself
trembling at the idea of it.    She had never consciously thought about
being spanked but suddenly she realised it had been there
nevertheless all the time.   It seemed all the stronger since Professor
Ericsson had also mentioned it the previous week.   She hadn't really
thought about it then, maybe because she was too busy worrying
about what to do.   She began to think back to Greta and the funny
shy look on her face.   Was the professor offering her a possibility he
had once offered to Greta?   No, that was a crazy thought.

Still it was a thought that refused to go away.   All week long it had
haunted her.   What if he was offering something to her and she
ignored it?   What did she really want from him?   Why the hell would
she want to be spanked anyway?   She had no idea what that would
feel like.  

One evening when the other girls were out of the house they shared,
she was lying on her bed studying.   Her fingers found their way on to
her behind and she felt the roundness of her bottom through her thick
cotton skirt.   She tried giving it a little slap but she couldn't feel a
thing like that.   She got up with her hand still on her bottom and
drifted over to the mirror.    She thought she had quite an attractive
face with her brown curls and startling blue eyes.    She turned
sideways and pulled her skirt tight to look at the shape of her bottom.  
She wriggled this way and that and finally, irresistibly, she picked her
skirt up from the hem and looked at it in just her white flowered
panties.   What would it feel like to be spanked?   She had to know.

She tucked her skirt right up into its own waistband and and hitched
the back of her panties down just under her rear.   It was sort of
exciting.   She was biting her bottom lip, amazed to find herself really
doing this.   She drew back her hand and gave herself as hard a
smack as she dared.   It tingled a little - not much - but it put a nice
little shiver through her fanny.    She liked it.   She did it again harder.   
It was awkward to do and it made her hand tingle just as much as her
rear but the feeling was sort of thrilling.

She ran across to the bed with her bottom still bare and took a ruler
out of her bag.   She had to catch her skirt to stop it falling down as
she ran.   Back in front of the mirror she tucked it up securely and
lined up the ruler across her bottom.   She gave herself three or four
strokes.   It stung a lot more than her hand.   She did it again.   The
stinging made her a little breathless and felt kind of itchy in her flesh.  
She tried it again much harder.   She tried it on her thighs, it hurt
more there.   She thought of Linda and Millie.   They would laugh at
her so much if they could see her.   She spanked herself harder, her
face going a little red with embarrassment at what she was doing.  
Finally she gave herself a series of really wicked little smacks that
actually brought tears to her eyes.   

Sitting up against the pillows Jennifer took off her panties and pulled
her skirt up to her waist.   She could still feel Millie and Linda's
laughter but the picture in her mind was of Greta bending down in
front of Professor Ericsson.   She had her panties down and she was
crying - her long hair in a ponytail beside her face.   Thinking about
her Jennifer stroked through her pubic hair and just above her clit
with one hand while with the other she slipped her middle finger up
and down her pussylips.   She was already very wet there.

She could so easily imagine Professor Ericsson spanking Greta with
a smooth wooden paddle.   Greta would squeal and cry harder with
every stroke and he would smile, happy to see the effect the paddling
was having on her.   Jennifer's fingers slipped up into her vagina.  
The main pleasure still came from her clit but she loved the feeling of
having her finger inside her when she masturbated.   Sometimes she
could find what she assumed to be her g-spot.   On a good day it was
fabulous but either she couldn't always find it or it wasn't always
sensitive.   Today however was a good day.

She imagined Greta clutching her bottom and being sternly told off by
Professor Ericsson then having to bend down for more.   She
imagined Greta crying hysterically and doing a humiliating little dance
of pain.   She imagined the professor telling Linda and Millie off and
then all three of them having to take down their panties for him to
spank them.   In the end she gave herself a beautiful soft orgasm that
lasted a long time and made her cry with its delicious intensity.  
Afterwards she felt weak and went on crying for a long time.   She
was confused about her feelings and terrified as much by the idea of
not knowing as of trying to find out.   She felt she wanted him and yet
what did she really want?   She fell asleep on top of the bed, curled
up and still clutching her sex.

>From the top of the hill Jennifer could just see the top of the roof
through the trees that surrounded it.   She walked down towards it.  
She had no idea what she was going to say but she would have gone
mad if she'd stayed in town.   She passed through the little gate and
looked around.   His was the only car in the shed.   Reassured she
went round to the doorway at the side of the house.

Erik Ericsson opened the door with his usual quiet smile.   At least he
looked happy to see her.

"Professor," she began.    "I ... I wanted to talk.  Is it alright?"

"Come in, Jennifer."  He laughed, his powerful voice purring.   "I've
been half-expecting you sometime."

He put his arm around her shoulders and led her down the hall.

"And I've told you - call me Erik.  'Professor' is only for formal when
there's no choice and if you're going to turn up at my house at the
weekend, damn it.  You can learn to call me Erik."

She laughed.   She was nervous.   She felt sick with nerves.

He brought her into a comfortable sitting room.    It was beautifully
furnished but quite dark.    He indicated a sofa for her and went to
open the curtains.

"I don't see this room unless somebody comes to visit.  Otherwise I
spend the whole day in the kitchen.   Logical place for the computer,
wouldn't you say?"

He threw open curtains on three windows and let narrow shafts of
sunlight cast a gentle glow around the room.    

"Would you like some tea?"

He turned to look at her and suddenly realised she was looking quite
strange.   Her eyes were a little wild and she seemed to be holding
her breath.   He took a step towards her and suddenly she couldn't
hold it anymore.   Huge wells of tears flooded her eyes and she broke
down sobbing helplessly.    He went to her and held her tight.

"I'm sorry ... " she said, trying with deep breaths to get control of
herself.

"It's okay - just cry," he murmured but she shook her head.

"You don't understand."

How could he understand?   She had solved nothing.   She still didn't
know what to say to him, what to ask him, what to hope for.

"Jennifer, you want to talk ... about what I said the other day."

She stopped sobbing and stared at him in utter astonishment.

"Yes," she said, incredulously.

He sat down beside her on the sofa and stroked the hair off her damp
cheeks.

"If anything I say or do is wrong for you or is not what you want you
will say my name 'Ericsson' loudly.   Okay?"

"Yes," she breathed, almost mesmerised by him.

His blue-grey eyes seemed so beautiful to her.   She seemed to see
fjords and floes in them as if he had been born looking out over the
fields of ice into a perfect blue sky.   They looked troubled now.   

"You know," he said.  "I have been very disappointed in the work you
have produced here."

"I know," she murmured.

"I want you to do well.   I'm sure your parents; Greta; everyone wants
you to do well.   I'm not sure you're trying hard enough."

"I don't think I am."   She could feel her face beginning to colour.

"And yet you're taking up a place in the university and a lot of
people's time - my time."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Well, perhaps this time, sorry isn't good enough, Jennifer."

She looked up at him.   Her face was red;  she felt ashamed of
herself.

"No ... maybe I should be spanked."

He sighed deeply.

"Yes, I think perhaps you should.   Stand up in front of me, Jennifer."

She glanced at him nervously.  His tone had become much firmer.   
She stood up unsteadily.   She could feel herself blushing right to the
tips of her ears.

"I think a spanking is long overdue for you, Jennifer.   It's about time
you learned to have respect for other people's time and effort.   Now
take down your panties."

Jennifer's mouth fell open in dismay.   She hesitated.

"Immediately, Jennifer."

Her panties ... but of course she would have to do that.   It was just
so difficult standing here in front of him.   She had to do it.   She
picked up the sides of her skirt and, taking her panties between
fingers and thumbs, she lowered them until they hung near her
knees.   She wasn't sure if she should have taken them off
completely.   She'd never been spanked before - she felt very unsure
of everything.

"Now you will put your hands on your head and wait until I return."

"Oh,"   Jennifer wanted to cry out but she knew she mustn't.   He was
leaving her standing in this room that she didn't know with her panties
hanging below her skirt.   She felt completely humiliated.   She knew
it was for her own sake that she was being punished but the thought
of what she must look like made her want to cry.   She thought of
Millie and Linda giggling at her.   She thought of Greta laughing in her
sultry way and suddenly it came home to her - Professor Ericsson
wanted to see her like this.   The idea of that brought a flush of
warmth between her legs.   He would be back soon, perhaps with a
paddle or a cane, and he would make her bend over for him to spank
her.   A little throb started in her pussy.

She heard his footsteps in the corridor and she straightened up so
that he would see her breasts standing out proudly under her sweater
and her panties as he had told her to have them.   He came in
carrying a wooden hairbrush.

Erik put the hairbrush down on the table and sat on the sofa.   For a
few moments he just sat and looked at her.   Jennifer kept her head
up, staring at the wall in front of her, but she could feel her eyes filling
with tears and she was blushing.

"Bend over, Jennifer."  He patted his knees.

Jennifer glanced down then very carefully bent over his lap.   She put
her hands on the floor and he pulled her further over and uncovered
her bottom.   She truly wanted a spanking and somehow she was
sure that he would know exactly what was right for her.   She found it
furiously arousing to be lying over his knee waiting to be spanked.  
She hoped he wouldn't wait long.   He didn't.

Suddenly his big hand exploded on her bottom and once he had
started she knew there was no turning back.   He slapped her very
hard and within moments she was grizeling and moaning, kicking her
legs and shaking her buttocks to try to still the pain.

"Aooow!   Ooooh, please.   Ow!"  she wailed.   Her buttocks felt as if
he were pouring boiling water on them and now he was starting on
her thighs.   Big resounding slaps made her bounce up and down on
his lap like a rag doll.   Her bare pussy kept rubbing on his trousers
which gave her feelings of pleasure mixed with the stinging smacks.  
She tried to increase the feeling, rubbing herself harder on him,
hoping desperately he wouldn't be aware of it.   The slaps got harder
and harder then suddenly stopped.

For a moment nothing happened and she felt let down.   She was
gasping and sobbing a little but she felt there should be more to
come.   She was right.   Erik had paused to pick up the hairbrush for
her.   He turned the brush over and, putting bristles against her
smarting flesh, he covered her whole bottom in long bristle-strokes.  
Jennifer squealed.   She squirmed and wriggled and kicked her legs
desperately.

"Ooooh!   Ow!"

She was crying out like a spanked schoolgirl but he was still aware
she was moving more and more sensually on his lap.   Now he turned
the brush back over and spanked her hard with it.   The stinging was
much greater than when she was spanked with his hand.   Jennifer
cried out twice and then burst into tears.   He spanked her a few
more times then stopped and let her cry.   She wept bitterly and he
felt this was the emotional release that she had very much needed.

Gently he began to stroke her over her reddened bottom and legs.  
She moaned with pleasure but carried on crying softly.   He let his
fingers slip between her thighs and he softly stroked the outer lips of
her pussy.   He felt the wetness there and slipped his fingertips
carefully down on to her clit.   He knew she hadn't climaxed during
her spanking but now that it was over he wanted her to be able to
surrender herself to the pleasure.   She groaned loudly with the
powerful stimulus of his finger on her swollen clitoris.   It filled her with
the desire for release and she found herself moving her hips to
increase the pleasure.   She opened her legs wider for him and with
his other hand he tickled round the little bud of her anus.   Suddenly
she was coming, thrusting her sex forward, the feelings flooding
through her body.   She cried out his name as she lost herself in the
delightful release.

He continued to finger her delicately until her feelings calmed a little
then he lifted her up, cradling her in his arms.   She had stopped
crying as her orgasm approached but now, curled up close to him,
comforted and protected, she cried softly again.   The feeling of his
arms around her was so warm and sweet, she couldn't help it and
she didn't want to.   She let herself go.   After a time she stopped and
opened her eyes.

"Th ... thank you, Erik."

He stroked her hair and gave her a kiss on her head.   He felt very
aroused too but he didn't want to let her know that.   He didn't want to
put her under any feeling of obligation to him.   He knew she had
needed what he had done for her but he wasn't sure she needed
anything else.

"I think you may have to be spanked quite regularly from now on ...
perhaps next time with the cane."

"Yes, whatever you think I need.  And I promise I will work hard now. 
Only ... only Erik ... "

"Yes."

"Will you ... will you fuck me."

She said it so beautifully, he had to smile.

"I think I need it," she continued.   "I want you so much."

"And if I did, how do you think you could keep that separate from your
work and from your study?"

"I know I could."

"And not expect any special privileges or extra attention that other
post graduates don't get?"

"Yes."

"Jennifer, to be honest, I want you like hell.   I have since the day you
arrived.   But I also want you to succeed; and when you do and
people say it was because of our relationship - and they will - I want
us both to be totally confident that you did this for yourself."

"Okay, Erik.   If I work really hard and I come back on Sundays for my
spanking whenever you say ... then in three months time - will you
then?"

"If I am sure that you are really working, then - perhaps."

She kissed him.   It was as far as they would get today.   They talked
the whole afternoon and then she wandered home.   They both knew
perfectly well they wouldn't last three months - in fact they probably
wouldn't be able to hold off longer than next week with the way they
both felt - but they were happy at least to have tried.   Suddenly
Jennifer was looking forward to studying.   She knew that everytime
she sat down to study her whole mind and especially her body would
be filled with reminders of him.   She giggled at the thought.


OLIVIA by Helier  (M/F cons)

She opened her eyes slowly and saw him, sitting, just watching her.  
She didn't move.   She felt a pulse begin in her body.  It was nerves.  
It was more than nerves.

"I knocked."   He spoke quietly.   "There was no answer."

She was lying on a chair with a cushion in her back and a pillow
under her head.   She was wearing only her cotton knickers and a
thin bra.   She had come in feeling hot and exhausted.   She had only
meant to sit down for ten minutes but she felt uncomfortable in her
black dress.   

She didn't want to move.  Above all, she didn't want him to move.

"You shouldn't be here," she murmured.  "In my room."

There was cool amusement in his voice.

"It's very impolite of you to say so ... I was looking for the storeroom
keys."

She bit her lip.   She still didn't want to move.  It was murky in the
room with the heavy curtains half-closed.   What light there was fell
on her.   She could feel his eyes burning on her body.

"I didn't mean to be rude," she said.   

"You were rude."

"But I'm naked," she whispered.

They were silent for a few moments.   He was older than her, more
experienced.   She had no idea of what she should do next.  Her
body felt rich as if it were full of warm honey.   She didn't know what
to do now.

"Olivia."   Her name sounded like a prayer in his mouth.   "Show me
your breasts."

It was no good.   Her breath was becoming shorter and she had to
swallow.   There was an aching in her sex that made it hard to still
her body, let alone her racing heartbeat.    If she moved something
would have to happen;  something would have to be decided.   She
had no choice.  Her fingers found the edge of the thin material - not
too tight.   She slipped it easily upward over her breasts.

They were firm and pointed.   Quite pointed, even when she was
lying down.
The aureoles were small and dark and her nipples became hard and
stood out immediately.   It was partly feeling the air on her skin but
more that he was looking at them.     He was Sir Robert's private
secretary.    She was the housekeeper.   It wasn't a huge job in this
house - she was studying for her MBA at the same time.   No-one
was in this afternoon.   Or any Thursday afternoon.   Except the two
of them.

"How do you feel?"   His voice was slow, sensual.   He was enjoying
the sight of her breasts.   How long had he been there before she had
woken up - maybe fifteen minutes, maybe longer.

"Nervous."

She could could hear him smile.

"Nervous?"

"A ... a little."

His eyes were drifting lazily over her body.   His voice was was soft
and deep.

"Wouldn't it calm you to touch yourself?"

She felt she was drowning.   She could hardly breathe between the
drifts of desire and she could feel the dampness squeezing out
between the lips of her sex.    Her hands, still close, crept up to
caress the sides of her breasts.   So sensitive.    It was impossible.  
She couldn't do this in front of him.

He sighed and watched as her fingers did their work.   She could feel
desire like rivulets trickling deep inside her.   She remembered the jet
of water falling on her clitoris earlier.   The memory made her
restless.   Restless desire for him to leave his chair or for her fingers
to leave her breasts.

"Olivia."   That soft growl disturbing the skin of her sex, releasing her
fragrance, turning her inside out.    "Your knickers.   Your panties.  
I'm going to take them off you."

It was her last protection against him - she shouldn't let him.   Nude
she would have no defence and she would be helpless in the face of
her own desires.  He would do whatever he wanted to her.

He moved from his chair.   A shockwave tripped up her breathing. 
Her heart missed a beat just when it needed all of them to be strong.  
It was too late.   She hadn't moved and now she couldn't.   His fingers
were circling the waist of her knickers.   They slipped underneath and
he slid the little garment over her buttocks almost lifting her.   They
still covered her sex but only just.   Tufts of dark hair showed over the
top of them.   He caressed the tops of her thighs, his fingers
wandering inward.   He pushed his fingers inside her useless loose
knickers and with exquisite care he separated them from the wetness
of her sex.   This is when it really began.

The back of his fingers brushes the lips of her sex.   He lingers
making her gasp and writhe with the sweetness of his touch.   His
fingers press and glide on her slippery flesh.   She lifts and tilts.
moaning, appealing to him to let her go, to be kind;  begging him to
force her, not to let it be her fault, her desires.   His finger glides
higher, the knuckle circling lazily round her clitoris, round but not
touching;  round but touching a little;  touching lightly, slightly.

Desire makes her inarticulate.   Little cries, incoherences, trickle from
her lips.   She wants to tell him how beautiful she feels, of her guilt, of
her wicked thoughts, of her skin but pleasure robs her of speech.  He
listens to her music instead.

He reaches up to the little cabinet on the wall beside her.   He knows
about that too.   The strap, a relic of past housekeepers in more
disciplined times.   He turns her effortlessly across the arm of the
chair, her hands spread on the little oak table beside.   She knows
what she must expect.   The strap fits so perfectly into his hands.  
He pulls her knickers down further.

A slap and a ripple of pain.   The strap makes a mark on her flesh. 
Again.   Louder this time along with little cries of anguish she can't
help.   He is gentle with her, a tiny sting in a sea of feeling.   He
repeats it a few times then turns her back over.   He lifts her legs and
leans forward to push his tongue into her slit.   It's urgent now - an
aching throb in her cunt that lifts her up.    The warm friction of his
mouth is twisting her, making her cry out.   She can't stop herself and
a little spend ripples through her insides, taking her breath away and
shaking her body.   It is beautiful but it is only a little flare and not the
fire hidden and waiting to burn.   More desperate than ever she shifts
from him, pulling her knickers off and kneeling up against the high
back of the chair.   Her legs are spread wide, her buttocks are tilted
and thrust towards him.  She wants his strap.   She wants it now,
stinging her, driving her.    She shakes her body impatiently - where
is he when he's needed?

"Ah!"   

The strap whips hard across her buttocks, jerking her.   It scalds her
legs, burns on her inner thighs.   He puts a hand on her neck and
whacks at her bottom.   She screams out, twisting her body
rapturously, terrified at her own desire.   The strap torments her,
reddens her skin, nips at her sex.  She is shuddering and crying, the
tears running down her face and on to her breast.  Pain and pleasure
mingle in her cunt, maddening her until she can no longer tell the
difference then she falls back on to her heels, pressed against him.

He holds her across her breasts and belly.   She turns her head and
they kiss, their tongues lost in each other's mouths, her hot tears
wetting his cheek.  His cock is loose and hard.  She can feel it
against her back.   She bends forward, reaching between her legs to
guide it in.   It presses to her slit and she can feel the flickering
tension in it.   She moves back and forth, wetting it.

She makes him wait for her now.   She ignores his urgency.   The
sizzling in her flesh is bright and continuous.  The touch of his cock is
softening everything.   She lets him push again at her slit with the tip
of his cock.   It's in her time now, in rhythm with the moon.   Her cunt
lets him pass and he enters firmly.   Being inside her gives him back
his confidence;  his movement destroys her peace.   Urgency floods
back, catching her unawares.   She pushes back on him.

She wants it all now - no restraint.   His cock is filling her - taking her
breath away.   The wet sound of her cunt, the frantic power of his
need, the slap of his flesh on hers, the profanity of fucking.   Her body
is screaming for release.   She cries out like a wild thing, shuddering
and wailing.   He slaps her buttocks with the strap.   Driving her on. 
Harder until she screams.    Her orgasm claims her.   She is clear.  
Pleasure floods her; sweet release melting her bones.   He comes in
her, moaning into her hair; fucking until every last drop of him belongs
to her; holding her, kissing her until she too is exhausted then
collapsing with her in the softness of the pillows.

They lie still, together now.  Olivia had never meant to move.   She
was forced, made to move, forced to submit to Sir Robert's private
sectretary; whipped soundly and made to participate in degrading sex
acts.   It was nice.

"Darling," she whispers.

"Ummm ... ?"

"Next time, what if I'm Sir Robert's private secretary and you're ... "

"The butler?"

"Umm ... "

"Ummm ... "

"You could come into my office when I'm incredibly busy.   I'll be rude
to you and you could ... "

"I'd love to come into your little office."

They giggled.

"Also ... if you want to use the strap ... on the door of my office ... It's
okay, if you're careful."

He beamed.

"Umm ... creative."

"Productive."

"Satisfying."

"What a lucky employer Sir Robert is."

"Umm ... "