Friday, 4 March 2011


Story from Roue 70.


She studied the ad in the shop window for quite some time. Karen had been looking for a job for what seemed like ages. She was becoming increasingly desperate.

The ad said: 'Young lady required to generally help around the house. Good pay and conditions. Apply Mr Gold.'

The address given was only a short walk from where Karen lived.

She decided to pop along and enquire about the position.

When she reached the house and rang the doorbell, the door was opened by a tall, elderly man (Karen thought him to be about sixty). He looked pleasant enough.

"Are you Mr Gold?" she asked.

"Yes, my dear," came his reply. "I take it that you have come about the job?"

"Yes, that's right."

"You had better come in so we can talk about it," he said, leading Karen through to the sitting room and offering her a seat.

"Would you care for a cup of tea?" he asked. Karen replied that she would, and he went into the kitchen to prepare it.

Whilst he was gone, Karen looked around the room which was very tastefully furnished. It seemed quite a nice little house, and she felt relaxed with her potential new employer.

Returning with the tea, Mr Gold sat down, taking a longer look at the young lady before him. She was certainly a very pretty girl, and he had to admit to himself that she possessed a fine figure. He wasn't too old to appreciate that — far from it, in fact.

She was, he later found out, eighteen years of age. Sitting there, he drank-in the sight of her shoulder-length hair, her prominent breasts beneath her tight sweater — all this added to the excellent bottom he had glanced at when she'd entered the house. Mr Gold like bottoms — especially those belonging to girls of Karen's tender years.

She was wearing a short, rather tight, black shirt which had allowed him to espy the jiggling twin cheeks.

He had more or less decided that she was right for the job, even though he knew nothing of her abilities. When it had been explained to her what the job entailed and what the pay would be, Karen jumped at the chance. It was, as it turned out, just a matter of tidying up and doing a bit of cooking, the wages offered for this being far more than she had expected.

So it was agreed that Karen would start the following day.

Mr Gold was more than a little pleased with himself. His chores would be done for him, plus he would have a pretty girl about the house. His mind began to work overtime at this delightful prospect.

The next morning, Karen arrived promptly, being met by a smiling Mr Gold at the door.

"I am glad to see you are on time," he said, "as I have my own special way of dealing with young ladies who are not punctual."

Karen smiled, but later that morning she got to wondering what he had meant by that somewhat cryptic statement. Did he mean dismissal? Maybe he would stop her an hour's pay? She certainly hoped that it wouldn't result in the sack as the pay and conditions were so good. Inclined to oversleep, she made a mental note to be on time, no matter how much she enjoyed a lie-in in the mornings.

Things went well for the first few days, then... disaster. Having stayed out late at a disco, she didn't hear the alarm clock and arrived at Mr Gold's some three-quarter's of an hour late.

A flustered Karen was led into her employer's house, the man looking grimly at his watch.

"We had better have a little talk about your future conduct if you are to continue working for me," he said gravely.

Leaving her in the sitting room for about ten minutes, he then entered and began to lecture the anxious girl, the subject being the importance of good timekeeping and reliability.

"My former helper knew exactly what to expect if she didn't toe the line," he told her. "She had two choices... the sack or a soundly smacked bottom."

Karen couldn't believe her ears. When the words had had time to sink in, she stammered: "How old was she? Y-You can't do things like that these days. Y-You just can't..."

"For your information, young lady," he interrupted, "she was about your age. But, young as she was. she was wise enough to realise that — especially in these days of high unemployment — a sore bottom was preferable to dismissal. And if you want to continue in my employ you have the same choice."

Karen considered leaving Mr Gold's house, but she knew that the pay was far more than she would get anywhere else for such little work. She therefore said she'd like to stay, and was relieved when the man told her that no punishment would be meted-out on this first occasion — although she was left in no doubt what would befall her if there was a repetition.

A week later, having spent the night at a girlfriend's place, Karen woke up only to find to her dismay that she would be at least an hour late. She was panic stricken. What could she do?

"Just ring up this Mr Gold and tell him what to do with his job... or go to work and face the music," suggested her chum, not knowing what 'facing the music' would entail.

Perhaps, thought Karen as she hurriedly washed and dressed, perhaps he had been joking about this spanking lark — after all, eighteen-year-old-girls don't get their bottoms smacked nowadays... did they?

Arriving at the house, Karen was greeted by a very stern Mr Gold. She knew straightaway that he had meant it after all. They entered the sitting room, the atmosphere tense. He spoke.

"Well, Karen, I think you know what to expect. You can, of course, decide to leave my employ. I would advise you, however, that the aforementioned course of action — that of a smacked bottom — would be far more beneficial to you. By accepting a spanking you will properly atone for your tardiness... and will still have a job here."

Karen thought for a minute then said mournfully: "Alright, I'll take a spanking. But please don't make it too hard; I've never been spanked before."

"Well, I can assure you, young lady, that it will certainly make your bottom sting; there wouldn't be any point in it otherwise, would there?"

"I suppose not," replied a downcast, head-bowed Karen.

"Right, come over here and get across my knee," he said, sitting himself down on the sofa.

Within seconds she found herself in the highly embarrassing position. Mr Gold's hand was resting on the seat of her mini-skirt, and she guessed that it would have ridden up sufficiently far for him to have a view of her thigh-tops... possibly even part of her knickers — some of her bare bottom as well, so brief were her pants.

To her horror, Karen's skirt was whisked up above her waist and equally quickly her knickers were whipped down to her knees.

She cried out. "No! Not on my bare bum, please!" as she tried to move her hands back to protect her rear-end.

Mr Gold, however, was very experienced in these matters and soon had her hands trapped up behind her back, leaving her bottom bare and completely defenceless.

"You are getting your spanking on the bare because that is precisely how naughty young ladies should be punished: bare-bottomed... and hard!"

With that he brought down his open palm with a resounding SMACK!

"Ooh!" squealed Karen.

Then one on the opposite cheek. SPLATT!

"Oh! Please," she gasped, "not so hard!"

He paused momentarily to admire the two red handprints forming on an otherwise flawless behind. He then set to work with a will. SMACK! WHACK! SPLATT! — hard, crisp spanks covering every inch of the lovely buttocks. Karen began to sob as the sting in her bottom grew hotter. She felt sure she couldn't take much more, but it was about five minutes before he finally stopped, by which time both cheeks were a deep crimson and burning like fire.

As Mr Gold helped the weeping girl up from his knees he said kindly: "It's all over now, my dear. You took your punishment well, and now we can carry on as normal. Go and clean yourself up now, then I have something to show you."

Still sobbing, Karen smoothed down her skirt, pulled up her knickers and walked stiffly up to the bathroom. She looked at her backside in the full-length mirror. It was certainly red — and he certainly knew how to spank a girl.

When ready, she returned to the sitting room. On the table in front of Mr Gold lay a long, thin, crook-handled cane. She gulped. Surely he would never use that on her, she thought.

"Right, Karen — sit down." She did so. He continued. "You have just had a sound spanking for being late, and the matter is over. However, if you commit the same offence again you will feel the cane across your bottom, is that understood?"

"Yes Mr Gold," whispered Karen, hoping that such a punishment would never be necessary. That cane looked really fearsome and she knew it would hurt like hell.

For the next couple of weeks Karen was extremely careful not to annoy Mr Gold in any way, but at the same time the cane — which hung behind the sitting room door — held a strange fascination for her. What, she wondered, would it be like to be caned on her bottom by a man. One day she actually took the implement down and was flexing it between her fingers, thinking how light and supple it was. A voice behind her said: "Interests you, doesn't it, Karen? Well, I suppose you will feel it soon enough."

Blushing furiously, the girl returned the cane to its hook and carried on with her chores.

A couple of days later when Karen was preparing her employer's dinner, he entered the kitchen and said: "I would like to eat in fifteen minutes, Karen."

She didn't know why; he wasn't normally fussy about the timing of his meals.

She replied curtly: "It won't be ready for at least an hour."

"And why is that?"

"I've been watching telly," snapped the girl. "I'm not a slave to you, anyway."

"No," he said, "you are not. But I pay you well to do a job of work. And I will certainly not put up with a lot of cheek from a young madam like you. Now, get that meal ready and afterwards you and I are going to have a little chat in the sitting room."

Karen knew exactly what he meant by 'a little chat', and as they ate their meal in silence she realised what she had done: made a rod for her own back... or in this case backside.

It was with a curious mixture of fear and fascination that she followed Mr Gold into the sitting room once the washing-up had been done.

"Well, Karen," he said, "the dinner was quite enjoyable when it eventually arrived.

But your behaviour earlier was inexcusable. I will not tolerate cheek from you, so I give you the choice you had before. You can leave my employ or you can take corporal punishment... only this time it will be the cane. What is it to be?"

"I'm very sorry I was rude, Mr Gold. I will accept the cane. I know I deserve it." She bowed her head as she finished the sentence.

"That's a sensible decision, Karen. After all, a bit of discomfort is better than being out of work. You now have another decision to make. You can either have twelve strokes across your knickers or opt for six on the bare."

The thought of twelve strokes with that awful-looking cane was something she was sure she'd be unable to endure. But the prospect of the implement being swished across her bare bottom filled her with dread. She chose the dozen over her pants.

Little did she know that the thin material of the garment would do little if anything to protect her from the cane's sting — and the fact that she was to receive twelve instead of six would result in a great deal more pain.

Mr Gold knew this, though.

Grabbing a cushion from one of the chairs, he placed same on the arm of the sofa, after which he took down the cane from the hook on the door.

"Right, Karen, let's have those jeans down and bend over there."

Karen started undoing the zip of her tight blue jeans, hesitantly tugging them down to her ankles. She then hobbled over to the sofa and obediently bent, her face being burried in the cushions and her bottom raised up well.

Taking careful aim, Mr Gold brought down the cane so that it landed on the very centre of the girl's knicker-clad rear. She hadn't imagined anything could be so painful, and let out a shrill squeal.

Down came stroke number two, her bottomcheeks twitching beneath their tight covering. The third stroke had her shooting up and pleading with him to end the punishment there.

"I... I can't take anymore."

"Well, that's unfortunate, isn't it? Because you have nine more to come."

"I... I'll take the six on the bare," she said.

"Very well," Mr Gold said. The three he'd given her over her knickers had been real sizzlers and he'd guessed that she might make this decision at some time during her ordeal.

Realising the stupid mistake she had made, she asked him: "Couldn't I have just three on the bare? I've already had three."

"Ah yes — but those were over your knickers. Now, get them down and take six of the best on your bare bottom, young lady." She obeyed.

Naked from her waist to her ankles and back in position, Karen awaited the six she had coming to her, her bottom utterly vulnerable.



SWISH! WHACK! "Arghh!"

SWISH! THWACK! "Oooooh!"



"The final one, my dear," said a somewhat flustered Mr Gold.

It was to be the hardest of the lot. SWOOSH!! THWACK "Arrrgghhh!!"

Karen just lay there sobbing while he returned the cane to its hook and congratulated her on how well she took it. "Perhaps," he said, "you would like me to rub some cream into your bottom. It will take away some of the sting." Karen nodded through her tears.

He was back in a flash with a jar of cold cream. Scooping some into his hand, he began to gently massage the punished rear-end of the girl. She gasped at the feel of his hand on her bottom. She gasped even louder when he pushed her thighs apart slightly and started rubbing there.

"Mr Gold! Do you think you should be doing that?" she asked.

She kept up her pretence for as long as she could. Before long, though, the man's handiwork had her nearing a climax. Her body stiffened, and then it happened. She couldn't help herself.

It was ecstatic, it was beautiful, it was worth every bit of the pain she endured... it was also not the last time Karen presented her bottom for chastisement to Mr Gold.

1 comment:

  1. Hello Dmitry, and welcome back from your break. I was a little 'put out' to find your blog closed - and closed - and closed again, and I began to wonder if you had deserted us!

    Imagine, then, my surprise and delight when, on trying 'one last time' this morning, to find your blog not only back in all its glory, but with a wealth of new stories!

    Thank you, Dmitry - you are so good to all us aficioados of 'Impact Literature'!

    Great to have you back - all my good wishes,