Story from Februs 13.
Three colours red
by Sara Veitch
'So how long will you be away?' Debbie asked. She held her breath, aware that she wanted an encouragingly short answer.
'Oh, only two days,' Miles Johnstone murmured, setting his diary down on the pristine table top.
'That's not long,' Debbie said. She wanted to add I'll miss you, but she'd only been dating Miles for three weeks and he was still an unknown quantity.
He made her feel excited, though – even if he hadn't yet made love to her! Oh, they'd kissed a few times, but at the end of each long lip contact he'd gently pushed her away.
'Problem is, I'm back for one night then away for a three-day sales pitch in Paris,' Miles continued, stretching his legs out in the ample confines of the wine bar, 'The dry cleaners is closed by now, so I'll have to do my laundry tonight by hand if its to be ready for the second trip.'
Debbie grimaced inwardly. Every hour the manager of the Masculine Mode menswear label spent laundering his suits was an hour that they couldn't be together. And she wanted them to be together soon in his bed!
She cleared her throat and tried to make the offer sound casual: 'There's not much happening at College at the moment. Why don't I do your laundry while you're away?'
Miles quirked one eyebrow: 'Sweetheart, I couldn't presume. I'm quite capable.'
He looked more than capable. He looked dominantly divine! 'I have the time. You don't. It makes sense,' Debbie continued. 'As a reward you can treat me to a candle-lit dinner on your first free evening back.'
'I will indeed!' Miles said. He produced a set of keys from his briefcase, 'Here's my spare set. I'll be away by 8am. Let yourself in any time thereafter. My shirts are in the Aladdin basket in the laundry room. I like to wash and rinse each garment separately by hand.'
'I'll do the same, then,' Debbie murmured, hoping to get into his good books.
'It never occurred to me that you might do otherwise,' Miles replied. He covered her small hand with his larger one, 'I know some people think that an interest in clothes makes a man effete, but I have to look immaculate so that I inspire the retail outlets to buy.'
'I understand,' Debbie said, smoothing down her newly-purchased black velour dress. She suspected that if Miles saw some of her jeans and baggy jumpers he'd have an unfashionable fit.
* * *
Two days later he did indeed have a fit – but with regard to his clothes rather than hers.
Miles had driven to meet her straight from the airport, and taken her for the promised thank-you dinner. Then he invited her to see the "Masculine Mode's" latest retail catalogues. 'You can give me a woman's opinion on what suits today's man in his thirties,' he said casually.
Anything that you wear looks ace, Debbie thought, undressing him with her eyes for the five-hundredth time. Climbing the single flight of stairs to his deluxe apartment, she wondered if he'd take her own clothes off and make love to her tonight.
'I like the way you've laundered my clothes and hung them all up,' he said, pouring them each a brandy. 'My French clients will love them.' He joined her on the long chintz sofa, 'Just one thing, Debbie – I couldn't find the cream raw silk grandad shirt.'
Debbie felt the first tremors of guilt spread through her breasts. 'Ah, I'd forgotten about that one,' she said.
'You forgot to launder it? Damn! I'd better do it now. I need that shirt for my first meeting in Paris tomorrow. It's a special version of the new line we're hoping to sell there, and cost over three hundred quid.'
'Three hundred...?' Debbie felt her mouth drop open of its own volition. Miles Johnstone was going to hate her now, might even end the relationship. 'I meant I'd forgotten to tell you that it... got spoilt,' she continued hesitantly.
'What happened?' Miles asked. His features had gone sort of guarded, extra watchful.
The student felt her heart begin to speed faster. 'I... some dye came out of your scarlet gym shorts,' she said.
Miles stared at her, 'You've obviously washed the garments together when I told you to launder them separately.'
Debbie cleared her throat: 'I thought it would save time, so I just...'
'Then you failed to admit to your crime when we met for dinner,' Miles Johnstone continued.
Knowing that everything he said was true, she stared at the floor.
'Such carelessness has cost me three hundred pounds, and will weaken my sales position tomorrow at the buyers' meeting,' Miles finished, staring at her intently, 'You can give me the rest of the details lying over my knee.'
Debbie stilled with surprise. She felt the blush start somewhere in the centre of her cheeks. It spread warmly up and down her face then intensified further.
'You can't mean...?' She couldn't bear to say the words "that you're going to spank me", out loud.
'I mean that you've been negligent. That you have to be punished,' Miles Johnstone confirmed. As it to underline her fate, he took off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. 'There! Now I'm ready to teach a disobedient bum some very sore lessons,' he said.
'But ruining your shirt was a mistake!' Debbie muttered. She wondered what a spanking would feel like, but she couldn't just throw herself across his knees like a sacrificial virgin. It would be so embarrassing!
'It would be a mistake if I didn't modify your bad behaviour by pulling down your pants and warming your arse,' the manager continued. Debbie stared at him with mixed curiosity and apprehension. Was he really going to do this or was he just trying to psych her out, give her a scare?
'I'm stronger than I look. Bet you can't haul me across your knee!' she said challengingly. There seemed less shame in being bent across his knee if he put her there himself.
'I've spanked much bigger girls than you,' Miles said with a lazy grin. He reached for her arms and pulled her over in a single movement. Then he clasped both her wrists in one of his hands and placed the other in the small of her back. 'How many spanks should you get for not confessing you'd ruined my shirt in the first place?' he asked, stroking her wriggling bum.
'Eight?' Debbie muttered, beginning to feel vulnerably small. She'd half wanted this – but now she wasn't sure if she could bear it. What if he just pushed her away afterwards like he'd done when he'd kissed her?
'Eight spanks for a three hundred pound shirt?' the manager murmured, continuing to trace her small buttocks through her tight dress. 'That hardly seems appropriate. I think thirty sounds fair – for starters, that is.'
'That's only the beginning?' Debbie muttered, then waited for confirmation. She was hugely aware of her pantied and skirted little bum.
'Here's what I have in mind,' Miles Johnstone said. 'First I give you thirty spanks over your dress as a punishment for disobeying my laundering instructions. Then I lift up your dress and give you another thirty for not telling me about the ruined shirt right away. Finally I bare your bottom and give you a final thrashing, the number of spanks depending on how good or bad you've been during the previous slaps.'
By then her buttocks would be the deepest vermilion shade, Debbie thought, and she shivered with shame and excitement.
'I plan,' Miles Johnstone continued, as if reading her thoughts, 'To turn your bum three colours red.'
Debbie sensed that he'd raised his right hand. She puckered up her bottom nervously, and closed her eyes. Then she opened them in surprise as the first spank lashed down on her taut left buttock. It felt surprisingly strong, though warming rather than sore. Miles treated the other buttock to the same firm treatment and it too began to feel more alive, started to tingle. The twenty year old pressed her tummy more firmly against the manager's knees as he repeated the full force spanks on her dress-sheathed helpless bum.
'Been practising, have you?' Debbie muttered.
'I lift weights twice a week at the gym,' Miles said. He spanked hard at the tender underswell, 'Means I can really warm a naughty bottom.'
'Congratulations!' the student sneered, squirming ashamedly against his knee. The repeated spanks were beginning to make her cheeks glow and burn a little, so she tensed her derriere, trying to turn it into a smaller target for the hateful hand.
'How many more?' she quavered.
'A few more over your dress,' Miles answered, 'I forgot to count so I'll just have to guess at the number you've yet to receive!' He continued to whack her wriggling bottom through the tight-stretched velour, 'Then we'll really begin to have some spanking fun!'
Because he'll be pulling up my dress. Debbie thought back to the panties she'd put on. Damn, they were fuschia-coloured bikini style ones which matched the equally flimsy bra now moulding to her hardening nipples. Lingerie to inspire lust, not underwear to shield a punished bum. Miscreants in the past had put padding down their pants to protect their bottoms from the cane or the slipper. Her own poor buttocks would have no such protection! The student made little gasping sounds as Miles applied the final hard spanks to her clingy dress material. Then she awaited the next, more shameful, part of being taken to task.
For long moments the manager seemed content to just caress her tender curves through the black velour.
'It's getting nice and hot already, Debbie,' he whispered, 'Can you feel how tender it is?'
'Can't feel a thing!' Debbie muttered, wriggling on his lap like an eel out of water, and wincing at the outright lie. But she was dammed if she'd give this man the satisfaction of knowing that he was making an impact on her, even if he was making a very big impact. Being so close to him had obviously started off the familiar sexual signals, and now she was aware of a low insistent pulsing between her legs.
Miles squeezed her bum cheeks extra hard.
'Well, we'll have to change all that,' he murmured, 'After all, you are being punished.'
'You could just try sending me to Coventry!' Debbie said. She shivered as the man's large hands started to edge her dress up, and she realised that he was closer to baring her bottom.
'Rather than ordering you to keep silent,' he said with evident enjoyment, 'I'm hoping to make you squeal.'
'Sadist!' Debbie muttered. She whimpered with desire as Miles slid a finger inside the gussett of her panties and stroked her full, wet labia.
'In that case you're a masochist,' he said sweetly. 'You've got the hottest little quim.'
He was right! She'd been climbing towards a climax from the moment he first suggested she bend over his knee. The twenty year old stared down at the carpet as he moved her dress hem up her back by merciless inches. She'd had submissive fantasies in the past – but now this was reality. And she had a feeling that it was going to hurt like hell but she also knew that if someone had ruined three hundred pounds' worth of her clothes she'd have been itching to get her own back.
'Pink panties over an even pinker bum. How appropriate,' the Masculine Mode manager said. Debbie stiffened as she felt his fingers tracing the warmed flesh beneath her skimpy silken knickers. If only they weren't cut so high in the sides! 'I can see the top half of each cheek. It's got a lovely glow,' Miles Johnstone continued. 'Looks really sore.'
'Into colour co-ordination now, are we?' Debbie sneered.
'No, I'm into warming a wicked arse,' Miles replied, raising his knees in order to hoist her bottom higher. Debbie quivered at her increased vulnerability. Wished that she'd never ruined his designer shirt or tried to keep quiet about its demise.
'Maybe we could come to a deal about the spoilt clothes?' she muttered, trying to delay the next cruelly-sensitising slaps.
'The deal is that you get the hottest arse on the planet for being negligent and deceitful,' Miles replied.
Debbie felt the shameful lust slake through her. It was quickly followed by a new spread of nether orbs pain.
'Aah!' she gasped out as his palm slapped hard against one pantied cheek. 'Ow, that really hurt!' she added, as he toasted the other equally helpless rotundity. He was holding her down so firmly that she could only kick her ankles and writhe in place.
'Save the histrionics for when I'm spanking your bare bum,' Miles murmured, 'Then you'll really have something to squeal about.'
'I... don't know if I'll be able to take it,' Debbie said gutturally, gasping the words between smacks.
'The option,' said the manager, 'Is that I give you a bill for three hundred quid.' He stopped spanking her, and just stroked her bum. He seemed to be waiting. 'Well, what's it to be?' he said at last.
'I...' Debbie was already behind with her rent and gas bills, 'I'll... alright, just keep doing it!' she muttered.
'Doing what?' Miles Johnstone countered, squeezing her hot sore spheres, 'Come on, sweetheart, don't be shy. What is it that you want me to keep doing?' he prompted, pulling at her waistband to tighten her fuschia pants.
Debbie closed her eyes again. God, this was shameful!
'You know!' she got out.
'Articulate it,' Miles replied. 'My God, you're supposed to be majoring in English.'
'I... just continue the spanking,' Debbie said.
'That's what you want, is it, my dear?' the older man parried, 'A sore bottom for being a wicked, slovenly girl?'
Debbie clenched her teeth together. For a moment she wished that she was the one doling out the spanking!
'Yes, I... want you to keep spanking me,' she breathed.
'Tell me how your bottom feels now,' the manager went on.
More heat rushed to Debbie's groin. Her nipples hardened. But she couldn't say the kind of words he was insisting on! He was so new to her: she had to retain some dignity, had to put up the vestige of a fight.
Then Miles slid a thick knowing finger inside her rapturous recess, and all conscious thought fled.
'Please let me come,' she whispered, 'Sir – please!'
'Ask nicely for the rest of your spanking first,' her tormentor ordered, stirring the teasing finger deep inside her, 'You have to endure the main course before you can have dessert.'
He encircled her hungry clitoris. Then he stopped.
'Ask nicely,' he ordered again.
Debbie knew she'd say anything if her climax was the outcome.
'Please spank me hard, sir,' she said gutturally, blushing further, and dipping her head closer to the ground.
'Let's be more specific,' the manager continued, 'Say something like please spank me over my panties then pull them down and really give me what for, Sir.'
In a shaky voice, Debbie began to repeat his instructions. Humiliation made her stumble over the phrase.
'No, I want it in your own words,' Miles Johnstone said when she'd finished. She sensed a smile enter his voice as he put a fingertip on her peaking-out clit and kept it there, 'I'll just touch this bud ever so lightly to remind you how kind I can be to you, sweetheart. If I feel that you're not being sufficiently humble I'll take my nice friendly finger away.'
'No! I beg! Keep touching me,' Debbie pleaded, closing her eyes in near-ecstasy and pushing her mons against the friction, 'I promise that I'll say...'
Each self-belittling word deserted her as Miles played with her pussy. Then he stopped the movement, and just held his finger teasingly in place. Debbie's clit made her do the talking.
'I want... I want you to finish spanking me over my pants,' she muttered shamefacedly, 'I want it really hard.' She searched for further shameful images, 'I... em... deserve to be made to squeal a lot and wriggle and beg.'
'Yes, you do, don't you?' the Masculine Mode manager said. He stroked each swollen sexual lip. 'And what else do you deserve to happen to you, my naughty Miss?'
'To... have you take my pants down,' Debbie forced out.
The man was almost purring now as he cupped her pubis: 'You mean you know you deserve to be spanked very hard on the bare?'
'Yes, I... cause I've been a wicked girl. Cause I've been wilful.' Debbie squirmed with additional shame as she debased herself further. The urge to climax was colouring everything.
'And when your arse is the third shade of red, the hottest and sorest shade, what will you do to please me?' the spanker enquired softly.
'I'll take you in my mouth. I'll lick you from balls to shaft tip,' Debbie said. It was the most submissive image she could think of. To her surprise, Miles thought of an even more blatant one.
'I think I'd rather have you kneeling on the bed, with your head resting on your arms and your red rump sticking right up in the air,' he said thoughtfully, 'That way I could look at your hot bum as I fucked you, and could even spank it further if I felt like it.'
'Yes, Sir – I'd push my arse right up for you. I'd beg for your cock, each thrust from it,' Debbie whispered, rubbing her engorged clit against his leg.
'I'm sure you will – but for now I'm not interested in your hungry little hole, only in you disobedient bum,' Miles said. He squeezed each pantied cheek, 'How many of the spanks with pants on are you still due?'
'Ten, sir,' Debbie replied, recalling each focused and fiery whacking she'd already endured.
'Lucky for you that you remembered,' Miles said, 'else I'd have had to start that particular chastisement all over again.'
'You wouldn't, would you?' Debbie whispered, appaled at the prospect.
'Let's hope for your poor bottom's sake that you never have to find out,' Miles said.
He pushed her dress further up her back, then once again pulled at the waistband to tighten her panties. 'Ten more over your knickers,' he repeated. Then he raised his right hand and doled out the entire number in an aching tattoo of spanks. Debbie tensed each buttock, jerked and shoved her belly forward in the hope of making her bum a smaller target, but she hardly had time to make a sound.
'Ah!' she said belatedly when he'd finished, 'Those hurt like hell!'
'I'm sure Hell is hot, but I plan to make your bad bum even hotter,' the manager responded lightly. Debbie heard the smile enter his voice, 'especially now that you're about to have your panties pulled down to your ankles so that you can be thoroughly thrashed for an achingly long time on the bare.' She felt his fingers moving against the waistband of her knickers as he continued, 'I do so love to strip a naughty girl's bottom.' Debbie winced as she felt the material being dragged over her glowing bum, 'It's just so nice, knowing how shamed she feels, watching her small bum cheeks tremble. Knowing that I'm about to make a reddened arse even hotter still.'
'Oh, just get it over with!' Debbie muttered, pushing her pubis against his lap in a craving-for-a-climax gesture.
'Is that bottom so keen to take its thrashing?' Miles asked sweetly, 'I plan to make its naked punishment last as long as possible. After all, we've got all night.'
'Don't you want to save some of your energy for your second trip?' the twenty year old shot back, determined not to be totally cowed by her would-be lover.
'The trip is already at a disadvantage given that you've ruined its showpiece,' the Masculine Mode manager said.
The student quivered as he edged her panties over her thighs, calves and feet. With her dress folded way up her back, she was hugely aware of her newly-stripped buttocks, of her legs in the ten denier hold-ups. It was a bottom which already stung all over from the heat of the manager's large palm.
'How many did we say that this bare bottom would get?' Miles murmured.
'Thirty,' Debbie said quickly.
She heard Miles snort with amusement.
'So you want the full thirty, do you, my sweet?' He teased his fingers over her newly-bared bum, 'We originally said that the third part of your punishment was to be decided. But if you think that your buttocks deserve another full thirty, then thirty it shall be.' Slowly he cupped his palm around her quim, making her moan with desire and bear down against his fingers, 'I hope you don't orgasm whilst I'm spanking you. I'd like you to wait until it's time to plead for my cock,' he said.
Debbie knew that she'd plead. The increasing wetness at her crotch was a measure of her need. But as the first spank landed she momentarily forgot her everything except her tender buttocks. She cried out, the sound following on from the heavy slapping noise which filled the room. 'Not so hard! Don't! Aaah!' she pleaded, trying to reach her hands back in order to place them over her punished bottom. If she could just hold the burning flesh...
'Bad girls don't get to soothe their bums till the thrashing is completely finished,' Miles said.
'Have a history of girls ruining your shirts, do you?' Debbie muttered, flexing and re-flexing her sore buttock muscles.
'Let's just say that most of my girlfriends have digressed in some way at some time,' Miles replied.
'And you spanked each of their bums three colours red?' Debbie added sarcastically, trying to stall the remainder of her thrashing.
'No, sometimes I caned them mercilessly,' the irrepressible manager said.
The thought of the cane sent further seductive signals to Debbie's sex. Then Miles' hand sent a crueller sensation to her arse. It was funny, Debbie thought, how she'd gotten wet by being threatened with a spanking, yet the actual punishment took most lustful thoughts away.
'Not so hard!' she begged again, twisting her head round to stare at him pleadingly. But he just played with her clit till she agreed that he could spank her to his heart's and hand's content.
'Twenty!' said Miles after what seemed an agonizingly long time, 'Twenty one! Twenty two!' Debbie felt his spanks land on the centre of each bare cheek. She felt his fingers mark her buttock sides. Other spanks strayed down near the tops of her thighs above her hold-ups. The ones over the full crevice between her globes hurt the most.
'It's only a spanking,' Miles said as she cried out, and Debbie wondered if he'd ever been spanked himself on his raised bare bottom. Surely not, for then he would have shown some compassion during these last few stinging whacks. If he'd felt the heat of a frequently applied palm, he wouldn't be saying 'Twenty four! Twenty five!' with quite so much zeal. Only five more to go, she told her fiery bare buttocks. Only four, three...
'Twenty eight,' Miles continued, and Debbie winced as his large hand toasted the tender underswell. He added the twenty-ninth spank to the same susceptible region. Then he placed the thirtieth over the sensitive dividing crease. Not that it was really just thirty spanks, Debbie thought with bum-aching clarity – it was three sets of thirty, which made ninety in all.
'Permission to hold my bum, sir,' she whispered respectfully.
'Permission denied till I've examined it,' her punisher answered.
He let go of her wrists, and she felt him take one hot buttock in each hand. He squeezed and stroked the tender rotundities till Debbie trembled. She was terrified that he'd start spanking them again.
'I'm sorry that I ruined your shirt,' she whispered contritely.
'I can tell that your sore arse is genuinely sorry,' Miles said.
'It hurts so much,' Debbie added gutturally as he continued to mould and cup her scarlet posterior.
'You ruined hours of work done by tireless silkworms – its only right that you should be made to wriggle like they do,' Miles said.
She wanted to wriggle on his cock! She craved orgasmic satisfaction. Debbie waited for the man to order her to walk through to the bedroom. Instead he said 'Walk over to that mirror and look at your punished bum.'
'What mirror?' she muttered, looking slowly round the room which now seemed brighter than she'd remembered.
'Turn round and walk straight ahead,' Miles said. 'No, leave your dress up over your waist,' he added, 'I want to see your hot bum cheeks jiggling about.'
Debbie turned quickly so that he didn't see the new blush which spread over her face and neck at his disparaging words. Then she realised that he was now staring at her sore rear – and that was even more shameful. She moved quickly towards the mirror, wincing every step of the way. She still wanted to cup her tender cheeks and just hold them for a while till the fire subsided. But to do so might provoke further buttock-based wrath.
'Now turn and bend over and look at your sore arse,' Miles instructed.
More lust flooding through her loins at his authoritative tone, Debbie hastened to obey him. She stared back at the reflection of her thoroughly-chastened rump. Both small spherical cheeks were red from buttock top to thigh, especially in the centres. Each quivering globe seemed to radiate heat, to glow.
'You spanked me so hard,' she whispered, staring at her tormented derriere.
'And now I'm going to make you orgasm equally hard,' Miles promised. He carried her to his bed. She knelt then moved her head onto her bent elbows at his request. Moaned with relief as he slid deep inside her. Moaned louder when she climaxed, the waves of pleasure rushing through her pubis again and again.
'I was so desperate for it,' she whispered, after he'd enjoyed his own rapture, 'My sex felt so hollow. I needed to come so bad.'
'And you needed to be spanked,' Miles said, putting his arm around her shoulders as they lay on the bed together. Debbie hid her face in his armpit. She wasn't so sure about that bit! 'Your bottom is already fading to crimson rather than it's original ruby shade,' Miles continued, looking down at her small taut buttocks, 'Red is the least stable colour in the wash cycle. Did you know?'
Debbie took her face from his armpit. 'I did after I washed your red shorts with your white grandad shirt!' she said, 'Still, I've learnt my lesson! I plan never to touch your laundry again.'
'And you think that will save those tender young cheeks?' Miles asked, 'My previous girlfriend had to be disciplined for turning up late. For flirting with other men. For being grumpily pre-menstrual.'
'You mean you'd spank me for being bad tempered?' Debbie muttered. Already her breasts had started to gain weight, which signalled that her period was due soon. She usually snapped at boyfriends one minute and smiled at them the next.
'Oh, I might do more than spank you,' Miles parried, 'I might use this very effective long cane I keep in my wardrobe. Or I might just take off my belt.' He kissed her on the nose then pulled her bare bottom closer and started to examine its tender round smooth contours, 'There are tawses and riding crops and paddles I can use on your bad bum to turn it three colours red.'