Here is a spicy little excerpt from my book about The Acme Paddle Company called Have Paddle Will Travel. Colin Masters is the sole proprietor of a company making fine quality, hand crafted paddles. He is also the sales force and so … he makes house calls. In this part of the story he has just demonstrated his wares for Mrs. Edith Fontaine, a wealthy widow, for the “benefit” of her grandnieces, Tanya and Britteny. But Mrs. Fontaine also has issues with her personal assistant, Emma Pearson. Or does she…?
Photos by Firmhand Spanking
For Tanya and Brittney, dinner was a subdued affair. Aunt Edith had insisted that they join her, Emma and Mr. Masters in the formal dining room. She thoughtfully provided pillows for their seats at the table. They sat gingerly and said little, casting nervous glances at Colin as if he might rise up and toss them over his knee again.
Aunt Edith made small talk. She asked Colin about his business, how it came about, all about the rising demand for the products. She noted with satisfaction that all the talk about discipline and consequences and taking responsibility made Tanya and Brittney squirm. But she also noticed that Emma was unusually quiet. She seemed both apprehensive and excited about something. Something is cooking. That she was attracted to the handsome and commanding Mr. Masters was obvious. But she ought to be chatting him up, flirting with him.
When dinner was concluded everyone retired to their quarters. Colin was in the front room of the guest house, his feet propped up, reading a book when he heard a knock at the door. He opened it to find Emma. She was holding an envelope. And she looked different. Her hair was down, for one thing. And she wore a short skirt, almost like a tennis skirt, and a tank top. It was in stark contrast to her business attire of earlier.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Certainly,” said Colin, stepping aside allowing her to enter.
She stood there nervously for a moment, then handed him the envelope.
“Won’t you sit down?” he said, breaking the seal and extracting a single sheet of paper.
“I’d prefer to stand, thanks.”
Colin sat back down and read the message. It was on the formal stationary of Edith Fontaine as trustee for the Fontaine Family Trust. It read:
I must beg your indulgence one more time. Your performance this afternoon has convinced me that what I am about to ask is the right thing to do in this situation. For some time now the performance of my personal secretary, Miss Emma Pearson, has been most unsatisfactory. In my view this resulted from mere laziness and procrastination. Miss Pearson seems distracted of late. I have spoken to Miss Pearson about this on more than one occasion, but to no avail. Until today, it seemed my only option was to let her go, however, you have inspired me to seek an alternative. Miss Pearson has agreed that in lieu of dismissal she would accept correction at your hands. I leave it to your good judgment as to how to proceed.
Thanking you in advance,
Colin looked up. Emma stood there blushing like a schoolgirl called before the headmaster.
“Do you know what this says?”
Emma drew herself up and replied with all the composure she could muster.
“Yes. I fully understand. Mrs. Fontaine and I have discussed it and we agreed that this is an acceptable solution to my, er, problem.”
“I see,” said Colin, now considering the quite attractive woman standing before him. “And what do you think you deserve?”
“Probably no less than Tanya and her sister received. I think Mrs. Fontaine was most impressed.”
“So this is for poor work, procrastination, not getting things done, those types of things?”
“Yes. Mrs. Fontaine has high standards.”
“I’ll bet,” muttered Colin. “All right, Miss Pearson.” Colin rose from the couch. “This won’t be pleasant, you know.”
“I know. It’s no less than I deserve. Maybe then…” She tugged on her skirt, a nervous reflex gesture.
“Maybe then, what?” Something was off here.
“Maybe then I’ll do better.” An evasive brush of hair away from her face told Colin she was hiding something.
Colin nodded and looked around. Whatever this was about, it was clear that this young woman wanted, or perhaps needed, what was about to happen. Colin lifted his sample case and put it on a coffee table in front of the couch. He unsnapped it and opened it up. Emma watched with baited breath as he picked up one paddle after another, testing each for weight and maneuverability, tapping them in his palm.
“What are you wearing under that skirt, Miss Pearson?”
Emma had debated about what to wear. In the end she decided on the barest minimum. “I knew I would not have the protection of my skirt. I wore nylon panties only. I know they have to come off.” She said it with matter-of-fact directness but her heart was thumping wildly. She could not take her eyes off of the long narrow paddle that Colin Masters held in his hand. He sat on the couch, facing her.
“Very well then, Miss Pearson. You may wish to unclip that skirt.”
Emma fumbled for a minute with the clasp and let it fall. She wore simple white nylon panties underneath, as she had said. She stood there, waiting.
“Ok, here’s what we are going to do. First, you are going over my knee for a spanking. I’m only going to use my hand.” Colin held his hand up, palm out. “It will sting, but not a like a paddle. This is to prepare you for what comes next. Since your fault seems to involve a lack of self discipline, after your spanking, you will bend over and present your bottom. You will get fifteen good solid swats with this ruler paddle. During that paddling you will not rise, you will not move. You will force yourself to remain still and endure the punishment. Your bottom will be tender from the spanking and that makes it harder for you to stay still, but it allows me to give you fewer strokes and get the learning point across with less overall trauma. Do you understand?”
Emma gulped and said, “Yes.”
“Do you agree this is fair?”
He’s going to put me over his knee for a spanking like a naughty child then paddle me like a schoolgirl in the principal’s office and I have to stand still and take it. I have to do this.
Colin nodded. “Then come here.” He motioned to her.
This was it, thought Emma. She sidled over to Colin. He took her hand and guided her over his lap. She laid flat, her elbows and knees on the couch, her bottom propped over Colin’s lap. Her groin touched his and she felt a surge of arousal. This was the closest she’d been to a man in nearly a year, and here she was, pressed down over his lap. She went stiff as she felt fingers in the slim waistband of the plain white nylon panties. “Lift up,” he said. She did and felt her last line of defense slide down her thighs. She was bare now from her lower back to her knees. The sensation was oddly liberating despite her acute embarrassment. He was in total control.
Emma’s bottom was plump—and nearly perfectly round. The cheeks were perched saucily over his knees. Colin patted each side as if to test their resilience. He felt her shudder and lower her head into the cushions.
Then she felt the first smack! It was loud. Her bottom tingled. It was followed by another, then another. Now it stung a bit. Her seat absorbed the blows, wobbling with each impact. After half a dozen she began to feel a growing warmth that engulfed her backside.
Colin began with a set of evenly spaced firmly applied smacks, about ten in all. He alternated from left to right, then spanning the center crease of her. She sucked in her breath. Colin stopped a moment. She relaxed. Then he gave her a flurry of quick smacks.
Yeouch! This stings. Now it’s stinging more! As the steady smack! Smack! Smack! of Colin’s palm continued without letup Emma realized that the stinging sensation was increasing. She wriggled involuntarily, as if that might make it easier to bear. Ow, it really stings now, but this is what I deserve for the mess I made. Go ahead, spank me hard, dammit!
And he was spanking her hard. Colin decided he had to bring her bottom to a cherry red to prepare her for the paddle. He alternated crisp flurries with sets of slow deliberate cracks. The cheeks of her fanny quivered when his palm connected. Red handprints merged into a pink then a red hue.
Emma couldn’t help it. She began to whimper. It was really hurting now, like a blazing fire someone had set on her backside. Tears began to flow, but with the tears came a kind of release. All the guilt and pity were being purged.
Colin stopped. Her bottom was a bright red and she was crying softly. It would do. The next part would be a test.
“All right,” he said. “We’re done with that. It’s over.” He lifted her up. Set her on her feet. “I’ll give you one minute, then we finish this.”
She stood, gulping, tears running down her face. She rubbed her flaming bottom. Colin wondered if he should let her do that but decided it wouldn’t matter much. The paddle was going to hurt.
He let her compose herself for a minute then said. “I think—over here, leaning over that desk.” He indicated a sturdy looking writing desk which was shoved up against the wall.
Emma nodded and kicked off her panties which had fallen to her ankles. She walked over and took up a position facing the desk. The spanking had made her buttocks feel hot, like her seat was radiating heat. She knew that her nerve endings back there were now hyper-sensitive and that enduring the upcoming paddle swats would be a real test of her endurance and courage.
At Colin’s command she bent over and rested her elbows on its surface with her palms flat. The posture made her arch her buttocks out.
Colin waited until she had positioned herself. “The swats with the paddle will come at measured intervals, ok? I want you to count each one off. It is important that you hold still to receive each one. I want to be as accurate as possible.”
“Yes, I’ll—I’ll try.”
“Good. I want to be able to report to Mrs. Fontaine that you accepted correction graciously.”
“Ok. I’m ready.” She took a deep breath, shuffled her feet a little.
Colin took up a stance and pressed the paddle against her seat. He drew back and delivered the first swat.
Crack! Emma felt an explosion of hot stinging pain. Oh my God, it hurts!
“One,” she managed to croak.
Colin waited a few seconds and then lined up again.
Crack! The paddle struck again, this time a little lower.
Oh! Oh! Oh! That stings. “Two.”
Crack! Number three was still a bit lower. The swats were coming in horizontally, almost lifting her up as they hit the underside of her sit spot.
“Ow! Three!” She cried out. What she wanted was to jump up and rub the fire out.
Colin settled into a sequence that allowed her to absorb a swat then prepare for the next one. He would deliver a spank with the paddle, wait for her to count it out and then line up the next one. The fleshy cheeks absorbed each impact with a ripple that flattened them only to resume their rounded shape when the paddle withdrew. He spread the swats around, working from the crown of her bottom down, then back up.
At first it was excruciating. The fiery sting threatened to overwhelm her. Each awful lick piled on top of the previous one and she began to understand the efficacy of spanking as a punishment. While no one swat was that bad, the cumulative effect produced ever increasing pain levels and heat. She struggled to maintain her position and her composure. Tears poured from her eyes, her nose ran. Her body jerked with the impact of each swat.
She didn’t know if she could take much more. She willed herself to stick it out, to take each harsh lick. But at about the tenth smack something happened. She accepted the pain, embraced it. She felt that the fire was driving out all the self pity, all the recriminations she’d heaped on herself. Since she was being punished, really punished, she did not have to punish herself any longer.
Colin saw the internal struggle. I don’t know what this woman did but clearly she feels that she needs to be punished for it. He thought about easing up, but realized that she might feel cheated. She wants to feel this in order to atone for something. So he put that thought aside and lined up the next swat.
The last three paddle swats were delivered at a faster tempo, crack! crack! crack! Emma yelped frantically, her voice rising in pitch as each one struck.
Then it was over.
Emma rose slowly. She closed her eyes. Her hands gently cupped her bottom cheeks. She stood like that for a moment, willing the pain to subside.
“You were very brave, Emma.”
“Thank you,” she choked. “I think that was the most excruciating thing I’ve ever endured.” She slowly rubbed her bottom cheeks. Her eyes were red and wet with tears.
“I’ll be able to tell Mrs. Fontaine that.”
She looked up, a shocked look on her face. “No, don’t tell her. Don’t tell her anything.” Now Emma realized her logical problem, but she saw Colin smile indulgently.
“I knew the note was a forgery,” he said.
“The handwriting doesn’t match her signature on the check.”
“Oh,” said Emma. “Oh dear. What you must think.”
“I think you wanted to be punished. For what, I don’t know. But it’s done now and I hope it met your expectations. Now if you like, I have some special salve in my case that will take some of the sting away.” He smiled at her. “Another useful addition to our ever-growing product line.”
“That would be nice,” she said.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to come over my knee again for me to rub it in.”
“I—I wouldn’t mind that it all,” she said in husky voice.
He took a jar from the case and sat back down on the couch. Emma lay back down over his lap. This time she definitely felt something beneath her, something hard. His hands were like magic, smearing the salve all over her swollen cheeks, massaging them, rubbing it in. She was becoming so aroused. She squirmed, her hips rising and falling. Her breath came in short panting gasps. When his fingers strayed close to her sex, down low, she said, “Yes” and spread her legs.
Colin understood what was happening and where it would lead. “Are you sure you want this?”
Emma half turned around and looked at him. “You don’t understand. I haven’t been with a man in nearly a year and the way you…you took control…and what your hands are doing. Yes, yes, I want this.”
Colin stood her on her feet and took her by the hand, leading her into the bedroom. He allowed her to help him out of his clothes. She peeled off her top allowing her breasts to spring free. In bed they lay side by side. Colin’s hands were all over her, up her legs, gently squeezing her buttocks. His lips were at her neck, nuzzling, nipping. He took a swollen nipple in his mouth and ran his tongue across it. Oh, how I missed this!
She found his hardness and stroked it gently. Colin moaned at her touch. He withdrew and turned her on her back. He knelt between her legs and began planting kisses up the inside of her thighs moving inexorably to the V between her legs. When he found it, she stiffened with pleasure. His tongue invaded her vagina, searching for her clitoris. When he found it, it was her turn to moan. Bolts of pure pleasure shot up her spine and she arched her back as she felt a climax approach. Colin sensed it and withdrew. His penis found her portal—wet, warm and ready for him.
He slid in with no resistance. He pushed inside her up to the hilt and held it there for a brief moment before starting the gentle thrusting that would bring them both to climax. He went slowly at first, but her urgent moans and entreaties signaled her desire to have him hurry. They came together in a blinding wave of climactic pleasure that seemed to go on and on as they bucked wildly against each other.
Afterward they lay facing each other.
“You must think I’m terrible,” she said. “Throwing myself at you like that.”
“You’re going to have to stop that talk. I don’t make judgments. What you did was brave. Maybe sometime you’ll tell me why. But don’t run yourself down like that.” He brushed her hair away from her face. “You don’t need to punish yourself.” Then he added with a wicked smile, “Now you have me for that.” Colin had decided. I want to see a lot more of this woman.
“Oh,” was all she said. It was to be a new beginning.