textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/solitair.txt

			       Solitaire

I couldn't quite get back to work after lunch, and I was sitting at my
desk, playing Windows Solitaire, that silly game that all PC's have on
them these days.  I knew I shouldn't have been doing this during working
hours, and Ms. Kinder (with a short 'i', not a long one), my boss, had
warned me about what would happen if she caught me at it again.

My PC's back was to her office, and I was always careful to keep an eye
out for her coming out of her office.  When she did, I would simply flip
to another window, and act busy.  Today, though, she had gone out of the
office for the afternoon, I thought.

I was lazily moving cards around with my mouse, losing most of the time,
and not really caring. I sensed that there was someone behind me, and
before I even turned to look, I knew it was her.

"Hank, please see me in my office at 5:30 sharp.", the voice said,
slowly and firmly.

She was standing right behind me, and I was caught red-handed.  I was
embarassed, but could think of nothing to say.  There was certainly no
excuse for what I was doing, and there was no question of my guilt. She
had me, and she knew it.

"Yes, ma'am.", was all I could think of to say.

I could feel my face flushing as she walked away, her high heels
clicking on the hardwood floor. Damn! What was I thinking of?  I had
promised myself that I would never play this silly game unless I *knew*
she was in her office.  Now I was going to get it.  I thought back to
how I ended up in this predicament.

			     * * *

Ms. Kinder had hired me right out of college, about 8 months ago.  I'm
quite good at computer programing, and networking, and her office needed
someone like me to install and maintain PC's used in her real estate
office. There were 8 other people working there, and my efforts really
paid off in less wasted time, better customer service, and generally
more productivity. My efforts were very much appreciated.

She is a lovely woman, about 45 I'd say, but I'd never ask, with
shoulder length light brown hair, which was apparently rolled each night
on big rollers, which gave it wonderful bouncing body. She was not
slender, but not fat either -- about 5'8", and 160 pounds, with an
hourglass figure, I guess it's called. She has full breasts, and a
bottom that many men would call large, but that I call perfect.  She
always wears business suits, and black heels.  When she walks by me, I
always smell just a bit of her perfume.  In short, she is the kind of
woman I worship.  I have never heard her raise her voice, but she
commands the respect and attention of everyone.  Just thinking about her
excites me.

About a month ago, she saw me playing solitaire.  She paused for just a
moment, and then asked me to follow her to her office.  She sat behind
her desk, and I took a chair in front of it.

"Hank, you were playing games on company time."

"Yes, ma'am.  But only for a few minutes.  I had just started when you
spoke to me."

"This wasn't the first time I've seen you doing this.  There have been
two other times lately.  If I have seen you three times, there must have
been many other times you have done this."

I looked down at my hands in my lap, knowing that I had indeed done
exactly this.  She was unhappy with me, and I felt terrible. When you
worship someone, you just don't do something to make her unhappy.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Kinder.  I have been doing it sometimes.  I don't do it
when I have something important to do, but sometimes, well, I don't get
started on things.  I let them wait."

"Adults take of their work before they play, Hank.  I like having fun,
too, but I understand my responsibilities.  You were acting like an
adolescent."

"Yes, ma'am.  I'm really sorry.  It won't happen again."

"I like you very much, Hank, and I'd like to keep you as an employee."

Oh, god, is she going to fire me?  I looked up, and into her beautiful
brown eyes.  I wondered if she knew how much I adored her, how much I'd
do anything for her, anything she said.

"Thank you, ma'am.  I really like working here, and I'll do a much
better job from now on.  I promise."

She smiled at me, and seemed to immediately change the subject, "Hank,
what would your mom have done when you were, oh, sixteen, if she caught
you playing around when you had been assigned a job around the house?"

What a question. What was she getting at?

"Gee, I don't know."

"Oh, I think you know.  I've met your mother, and she is a no-nonsense
woman.  What would she have done?"

I stammered, "Well, um, I guess, she would have punished me."

"Yes, I think so.  How did she punish you in high school, Hank?"

I stopped looking at her, and look back down at my lap, and mumbled,
"She would have spanked me, ma'am."

"What did you say, Hank?  I couldn't hear you."

I cleared my throat and said it louder.

"How did she spank you?"

Now I was really embarassed. I squirmed in my chair.  Here I was caught
by a beautiful woman doing something I shouldn't have been doing, and
was now being grilled about a very private thing, something a man would
very much not like to discuss with a woman.  But I had to answer her.

"Well, she would make me take off my belt and hand it to her.  Then she
would have me drop my jeans and briefs to my ankles, and bend over and
put my hands flat on the bed."

"And then?", she asked, raising her eyebrows.

I didn't want to tell this lovely woman about my mom whipping me with
the belt, but I felt I had no choice.

"Well, um, she'd raise my shirt tail up, and then she would use the belt
on my bottom and thighs."

"How many strokes would you get?"

"Maybe 20 or 30, I don't know."

"What was it like to have your mommie punish you like a little boy?",
she asked, faintly grinning.

"I hated it, and it hurt a lot. It was all over in a minute or two, but
it stung for quite a while afterwards."

"Did you feel better after the spanking?"

"In what way?"

"I mean, you knew you had been bad.  Did you feel like you deserved it,
and the air was clear, and mommie still loved you?

"Yes, ma'am, I guess so."


She grinned slightly, and said, "Suppose I told you that the next time I
find you playing games at work, *I'm* going to spank you?"

"What?!"

"Remember that if you behave, it won't happen.  You said you wouldn't do
it again, didn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am. I won't."

"So what problem is there agreeing to a spanking, if you know you won't
have to take it?"

"Yes, I see your point.  I guess it's okay, then."

"Let me make sure we understand each other.  You are agreeing that if I
catch you playing games, any games, on company time, you will take a
spanking from me.  Is that it?"

"Uh...yes, I suppose so.  How will you spank me?"

"However I feel you should be punished.  But I'm not a cruel woman.  It
will hurt but not injure.  You will definitely feel punished when I'm
finished.  Do you understand?"

What am I getting myself into, I asked myself.  I was sure at the time
that I wouldn't succumb to temptation, and do it again, so I didn't feel
I was in any real danger.  And the thought of this woman spanking me was
making my heart race with excitement. Besides, my mom's belt whippings
weren't all *that* bad.  Since I could never touch or make love to her,
perhaps this was a substitute of sorts.

"Yes, ma'am.  I understand perfectly."

			      * * *

As she walked after away from my desk, as I sat with that silly game on
my screen, all the above conversation was coming back to me in waves.
What was I doing?! I felt so stupid.  I could have been very careful,
and never been caught.  It was my own damn fault.  My stomach was so
tense, I was actually bending over at the waist from the pain, with my
arms around my abdomen. Was she really going to do this?  Was I really
going to let her?  She said 5:30, and I knew the office would be empty
at that time. Damn. What have I done here?  I could resign, and just
walk away.  No, this is a fun job, and she is a goddess. Is she really
going to do this to me?  Maybe it'll just be a symbolic spanking, and
not a real one, I said to myself, with little hope. I looked at my
watch.  It was 2:55. Two and a half hours to think about this. Oh, god!

I tried my best to do something the rest of the afternoon.  Oh, I
*looked* busy, but my mind was on 5:30.  My eyes didn't focus on the
screen. My fingers typed, and the words made sense, mostly, but I
couldn't really concentrate on anything.

People started to leave at 5:00.  All of them were gone except me by
5:15.  Ms. Kinder was still in her office.  It was really going to
happen, and it was all my fault, and there was nothing I could do about
it.  I went to the bathroom to pee at 5:25. My penis was somewhat hard,
and I had trouble getting anything out.

Then it was 5:30, and time to report for the punishment. I went to her
office, and knocked on the door.  It was slightly ajar.

She softly said, "Come in."

I went inside, and stood before her desk. She was signing some letters
to be mailed, it looked like, and she didn't look up.

"Why are you here, Hank?", she asked, casually, as if making idle
conversation.

"I...guess you're unhappy about my playing games, ma'am."

She put down her pen, and looked at me, giving me *all* of her
attention.

"Well, 'disappointed' is a better word.  You promised you wouldn't do it
again."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm really sorry. I don't know why I did it."

"What did we agree would happen the next time you played games, Hank?"

My heart was in my throat.  I absolutely couldn't speak.  I just looked
at my feet.

"What did we say, Hank?"

My breath was moving in and out again, and I managed to say, "We agreed
that I would accept a spanking from you."

"Are you going to keep your word on this matter, Hank?"

No threats of this or getting fired. No anger. Just her expectation that
I would do exactly what I said I would do.  My legs were shaking, and I
was getting a little dizzy.

"Yes, ma'am.", I finally replied.  I wasn't going to beg, or offer some
lame excuse.  I was guilty, and I deserved what was coming, whatever she
decided I should get.

"You understand that I, and not you, will determine what the punishment
will be, and that I expect you to take it like a man? No resisting,
Hank. You will no doubt be making some noise, and you may squirm and
jump, and you may cry, but you will take it every bit.  Is that clear?"

I nodded, and waited.

She stood and said, "I'm going to my car to get something.  I'll be back
in just a minute.  You stand right there."

She walked past me, and out her office door, closing it behind her. What
was she going to get?  Something to punish me with? Probably. What would
it be? I had told her about Mom using a belt on me.  Is that what she
had in mind? Should I simply get out of here? Now?  No, I can't run
away. Besides, how bad can it be?  Anyhow, I deserve it.  I was facing
her desk with my back to the door, when I heard it open.  I turned and
looked at her.

She coming into the office, holding some sort of leather strap in her
hand.  It was probably 30 inches long, 3 inches wide, and split into two
tails at the "business end" for about half the length of the strap. It
was narrower at the handle end, and seemed to fit in her hand well. It
looked thick and heavy enough to really hurt, and appeared to be quite
flexible.  She looked too comfortable holding it.  Does she use this
often?  On whom?

"Do you know what this is, Hank?"

"A strap, I guess."

"Actually, it is called a tawse.  I bought this in Scotland when I was
there several years ago.  The tawse is used on very naughty schoolboys
there. On boys who fool around instead of doing their work!  I think you
will find it to be *very* effective in convincing you to mend your ways,
Hank.  Do you have anything to say before we begin?"

What could I say? I'd already said I was sorry, and I *wasn't* going to
beg for her to not spank me, or to go easy on me.

"No, ma'am", I said, simply.

"Very well.  Please get the chair there and move it in front of my
desk, with the back of the chair away from the desk."

I fetched the chair, an ordinary office chair, without wheels, from its
place against the wall, carried it back to her desk, and positioned
it as she had said.

"Now stand behind the chair, Hank."

Ms Kinder walked behind her desk, holding the tawse, as she called it,
in both hands, the handle in one hand, and the tails in the other. She
was facing me as I stood behind the chair.

"Hank, your punishment is going to be a dozen strokes of the tawse. You
agreed to accept this discipline instead of more drastic measures. The
sentence will be carried out immediately. Drop your pants, now."

Sentence?  That didn't sound good. Well, a dozen licks would hurt, but I
would survive, I thought, and she *is* a goddess. Mom used to give me
more than that with the belt, and this strap was just a kind of belt.  I
unbuckled my belt, unzipped my pants, and they fell to my ankles, my key
ring thumping against the floor.  My shirt tail still covered my
undershorts.

"Now bend over and put your palms on the seat of the chair.", she
ordered.

I complied without comment.  I looked up at her across her desk, waiting
for what was to come.  She walked around the side of her desk, coming up
to my left side, and pulled my shirt well up out of the way, so it was
all bunched up around my chest.  She laid the tawse on my bare back, and
I felt its warmth, presumably from being in the hot car.  It felt
heavier than I was expecting it to.

I didn't look back, but I felt her moving behind me.  I felt her fingers
in the waistband of my briefs. As I expected, she slowly pulled them
down until they were at my ankles, too.  I was now completely bare from
my shoulders to my ankles, with the strap lying on my back, waiting.  I
felt the tiniest stirring from my cock, at the thought of being exposed
to her gaze. I felt the tawse slowly sliding off my back, and she picked
it up. She walked forward so I could see her.

Sounding like a judge passing sentence, she announced, "Hank, you have
been a very bad boy, and you are going to be punished.  You are going to
get twelve strokes with this tawse. You are in the proper punishment
position now. Your hands and feet must stay right where they are during
the strapping. You will look straight ahead, and not down or at me. The
strokes will be given slowly, and hard, and you will ask me for each
one, by number. That is you will say the number, followed by the word
'please', before each stroke.  Do you understand?"

God, having to ask her to give me each lick!  How humiliating.  But what
could I do?

"Yes, Ms. Kinder, I understand."

"Very well.  Eyes front, and let's begin your lesson."

I looked straight ahead.  I couldn't see her any more.

I said, "One, please.", and steeled myself for the first stroke. What
would it feel like? Could I stand this? Can I be quiet and take this
stoically? Oh, what is she doing?! Hurry up and get this over w...

CRACK!

Oh, god, that hurt! The stroke landed across the top of my bottom, and
the burn was terrible.  I could feel it searing across both cheeks, and
the tails apparently were travelling at tremendous speed, because I
could distinctly feel where both tails hit.  I didn't move, or cry out,
however. I waited for the next one, wondering whether I could continue
my silence. Oh, I had forgotten that I had to ask for the next one.

"Two, please."

After only a short pause, it came, with another loud CRACK, and the same
sort of burning.  This stroke was lower, right across the middle of my
cheeks.  Ow!  But the pain was less than before. Probably I was better
padded where this one landed.  I became convinced I could take a dozen
of her best, and not make a fuss.

"Three, please."

I could hear this one coming. A whirring sound, followed by a SMACK,
right across the bottom of my buttocks, right above my thighs.  God,
this one stung like crazy.

"OW!", I said, unable to stop myself.  The stinging seemed to intensify
in the next few seconds, until my whole bottom was on fire. In only
three strokes, she had me wanting this to end now.  The right cheek
burned much more than the left one.  I was already thinking that I just
couldn't take nine more strokes like these.

I could hear Ms Kinder moving, and I looked back to see what she was
doing.

"Keep your eyes straight ahead, Hank.  Do exactly as you're told.", she
said, as she walked around my bottom to a position to my right rear.

She paused for a few seconds, and said, "Continue, please, Hank."

So, I was going to get whipped from that side. Good, I thought. My right
cheek really needed a rest.

"Four, please."

The CRACK came almost immediately, and was very low on my bottom. Her
backhanded stroke seemed to be slightly less painful than her forehand.
I took the pain without a sound.

"Five, please."

CRACK! Above the previous stroke. Again, the pain was bearable. My
breath hissed between my teeth. The tawse's tails didn't quite cover the
whole of my left cheek this time, and area between my cheeks felt its
share of the stroke.  These strokes were definitely not as hard as the
others.

"Six, please."

A long pause this time, while I waited for the last of the first half of
my strapping. Perhaps my bottom swayed to the right as I waited. I'm not
sure.

When the CRACK came, it was the worst of all, and I howled with pain.
The strap landed quite high on my poor bottom, and the tails wrapped
around on the side of my hip somewhat.  My head involuntarily jerked
upwards, and my hands came off the chair cushion.

"DOWN!", she ordered, and I did so immediately, groaning in pain, and
bouncing up and down on my toes.  "Your orders were to remain in
position for the entire punishment, Hank.  If you can't stay in
position voluntarily, I can see that you do."

She walked forward, cupped her hand under my chin, and pulled my head up
until I looked right into her eyes.  She was clearly not her usual calm
self.  She had tiny beads of sweat on her upper lip, and her breath
seemed somewhat labored.  Perhaps she was angry that I had moved.
Perhaps the effort of swinging that tawse was tiring her.  But I got the
distinct impression that she was sexually aroused.  I didn't dare let
her know my thoughts, however.

"Do you understand what I expect of you? Can you remain in position for
the full dozen strokes?"

I really didn't think I could, but I would try my best to perform up to
her expectations.  Perform?  What a word.  I wanted to please her, and
take my strapping, all of it, no matter what.

"Yes, Ms Kinder.  I'll be good"

Gee, I said I'll be good.  Like a naughty boy.  What was happenining to
me here.

She released my chin, and I looked straight forward again.  She walked
around my bottom again, to my left side.  My whole bottom was throbbing
now, having taken three strokes on each side.  I felt her fingers
touching my bottom. It was very painful where she touched.  I think she
was tracing the marks where the tails of the tawse left welts. At least
my bottom felt welted.  Yes, her fingers trailed 6 lines on my right
cheek, and then stopped.

"Hank, the next six strokes are going to be on top of the first six, and
you are going to find them quite painful.  Worse than the first.  You
can and will endure them.  Let's begin again."

I didn't waste any time, and said, "Seven, please."

CRACK, came the tawse. God, was she right! It must have landed directly
on top of the first stroke. The far right side of my bottom was burning
like hell.  I kept quiet, but couldn't be still.  My knees buckled a
little, but I recovered. Hurry, hurry! Get this over.

"Eight, please."

CRACK! Right in the same place!

"Aw!! Please! No more.", I yelled, as the pain seared into me. She said
nothing.

Right on top of the last one!  My bottom was being flayed. I dreaded
having to ask for another one like that. I needed time before the next
one.  She seemed in no hurry to finish.  I found I had tears in my eyes,
and I blinked them several times to clear my vision.  I didn't want her
to know her strokes were wearing me down so quickly.

No, I couldn't ask for another one! My bottom was burning all over, and
down deep now.  Not just on the surface.  I didn't want another stroke
of that vicious strap.  Please, have mercy on me and let this end! What
am I going to do?

She said, quietly and calmly, "Hank, ask me for the next stroke, please.
It's time for the next one."

I just couldn't do it.  I couldn't ask for the tawse to visit my poor
behind again.  I was clenching my teeth in pain.

"Hank. Now! Or I'll give you one and not count it."

No, please not that.

"Nine, please."

SMACK! Down very low, right on the crease between bottom and thigh. It
hurt like hell, but it was half on unstrapped territory. I grunted, but
stayed in position.

Again I could sense her moving to my right side for the last three
strokes. At least my right cheek was still intact, as best I could tell.
Now she was going to see that the left side felt just as bad.  How could
she do this to me?  She must realize how painful this was.  Yes, I
deserved to be punished, but not like this, not this hard.  Was she
enjoying this?  I was sure she must be.  Why else make it last so long?
I was going to try to get this over with quickly.  Surely three fast
strokes were not as bad as three slow ones.  If I could only make myself
ask for them.  I was damn well going to try my best. She could just make
me wait, even if I asked, but it couldn't hurt (what?) to try.

"Ten, please."

SMACK!  Quickly it came, once more down low on the crease of my bottom.
I squealed like a pig, and thought I could actually feel the skin
welling up.

"Eleven, please."

God, get it over with. But nothing happened. She was in no hurry. I had
had all of this I could stand. Come on!

"Eleven, please!"

"I heard you the first time, Hank. Please be quiet, and be still, and
wait for the eleventh stroke."

I waited. Finally it came. CRACK! Up high and wrapping around again. I
yelled, and grabbed my bottom with my left hand. CRACK! Immediately she
gave me another stroke, even while my hand was back there.  It struck
only my right cheek, and the tails found their way into the crack of my
bottom.

I cried out, "Please, ma'am.  No more! Please!"

"Back into position! Or I'll give you another.", she barked.

I did so quickly. The tender skin between my buttocks was burning like
crazy.  I feared another stroke there would hit my anus and really
injure me.  I settled back down.  Only one more to go.  I'm going to
live through this, I thought.  I will have taken all of her punishment,
and I will feel proud.

"Twelve, please."

She mercifully gave it to me quickly. A crack across the center of my
bottom, and very hard as the others. I grunted, but stayed firmly in
position. It was done.  I felt her hand on my bottom.  She rubbed it up
and down, and I could feel her fingers bumping against each welt from
the strap. She was soothing me.

"You were quite a good boy, Hank.  You took a severe tawsing, a man's
punishment, with only a little moving out of position.  I've proud of
you.  You are forgiven."

"Thank you, Ms Kinder.  It was terrible, and I don't want you to have to
do this again. I'll be a very good boy, ma'am."

She laughed slightly, and said, "I'm sure you will, Hank.  Now get up.
Your bottom will show the marks of your punishment for several days."

How did she know that? I stood as she walked behind her desk, and placed
the strap into her top right desk drawer. I didn't know what to do, so I
just stood there with my pants down, and shirt still up around my chest.
She looked me over, smiled, and took out a bottle of hand lotion from
the drawer.  She said, "If you'd like, I can rub some lotion on your
bottom."

"No ma'am.  That won't be necessary.", I replied quickly, afraid I would
have an erection, and embarass myself to death.

"Then you'd better go on home."

"Yes, ma'am."

I lowered my shirt, pulled up my underpants and trousers, and turned to
leave.

"Thank you for disciplining me, ma'am, and not firing me."

"My pleasure."

That evening, when I looked at my poor behind in the mirror, seeing the
welts, the marks of the tawse tails, and the bruising, I thought of Ms
Kinder, and what happened, and my penis got terribly hard.

THE END