School Reunion Year 1 (4 page)

‘Keep still, girl,' Rob admonished irritably, emphasising his command with searing slaps across the backs of her tender thighs.

‘Ow, no!' Julie shrieked at the indignity, struggling against his unyielding grip. Carly had neglected to mention there would be this amount of pain and discomfort.

With perfect timing Rob stopped to admire his handiwork and allow the thoroughly discomfited WPC some respite. Contrary to what many might have predicted, the evidence of the spanking was clearly visible on her dark skin, a roseate glow suffusing the flawless expanse of her coffee-coloured cheeks, finger marks faintly visible at the tops of her thighs. Pushing her knees roughly apart he slid his hand between her legs, up over her stocking tops and into the damp black curly hair at their apex.

‘Aha, just as I suspected,' he said, ‘betrayed by your hot little honey-pot. You're wetter than a rainforest down there, WPC. Indeed, we seem to have put the
cunt
in constable.'

Julie could hardly deny the incriminating evidence, and besides, she'd no desire for Rob's fingers to cease their skilful manipulation of her craving clitoris. ‘Mmmm, oh yes,' she groaned shamelessly, relishing the transition from pain to pleasure as her engorged labia were petted and teased. The glow from her burning buttocks, though fierce, was now flowing in waves through her lower body, intensifying the delicious sensations created by her lover's probing fingers.

Abruptly Rob pulled her upright, placing her cuffed hands on the back of her head and forcing her to stand hot and dishevelled in front of him. Rob rapidly undid the buttons of her regulation blouse, tearing eagerly at her almost transparent lacy white bra to free her succulent breasts. Palming then painfully, squeezing each engorged nipple between finger and thumb, he forced Julie, panting and flushed with desire, to even greater heights of arousal.

‘Okay tough guy,' she gasped, ‘you've made your point, I'm ready for you.'

‘I thought you might have learned to be a little less presumptuous by now, young lady,' he responded menacingly.

‘Please,' Julie whimpered, ashamed to be reduced to begging but desperate to escape a further assault upon her throbbing hindquarters, ‘make love to me now.'

‘I'll fuck you when I'm good and ready,' he responded evenly, ‘until when you can display your supposed aptitude for obeying orders.' In no great hurry, savouring each moment of the delightfully tactile ritual, he removed her skirt and knickers completing her humiliating exposure to his frankly lascivious gaze.

Julie, anxious and atypically silent, nervously returned his uncompromising stare. Naked from the hem of her blouse to the tops of her stockings she urgently wanted to massage her glowing pink bottom, but dare no longer move without Rob's permission.

The man in charge grinned wolfishly. ‘Bet you'd like to rub that sore little bum, wouldn't you?' he goaded.

Julie nodded vigorously, no longer so self-confident, unwilling to trust the timbre of her voice. No man had ever reduced her to such a compliant state before; no one had mastered her so completely.

‘Well you can't, but I guess you'd settle for me doing it instead,' he continued, with a wicked gleam in his eye.

‘Yes please,' agreed a much chastened WPC Christie, nodding furiously.

‘Well I'm not going to either,' Rob teased pitilessly, ‘so we'll just have to let your behind burn and stoke the fires a little longer.' Ignoring her plaintive complaint at this unwelcome news he began palpating the pained policewoman's sodden pudenda with one hand while gently patting her throbbing bottom with the other.

‘Now then, Julie,' he said, in a tone which clearly assumed a
fait accompli
, ‘time to complete your punishment.'

With a loudly audible, if largely incoherent response, Julie's body arched with conflicting sensations as two fingers slid craftily inside her wet sex and five more beat a tattoo on the soft under-curves of her gyrating twin moons. A few minutes was all it took before the simultaneous finger-fucking and spanking took its inevitable toll and a shattering orgasm reduced her to a quivering rag doll, moaning ecstatically in the arms of her lover. Who, kissing her tenderly, carried her limp form into the bedroom and lay her upon his big brass bed. Then placing Julie's cuffed hands on the rail above her head he carefully spread wide her legs, stripped off his clothes and knelt between her thighs.

‘And what do you deserve now, constable?' he coaxed.

‘Please sir, please, I've taken my punishment like a good girl even though you've made my bottom hot and sore and it hurts dreadfully. Now I'd like to be loved.'

‘And will you be good from now on?' asked Rob, extremely and pleasantly surprised, for Julie had never spoken or behaved so contritely towards him before.

‘Oh yes,' she rasped huskily, ‘I'll be very,
very
good.'

‘Then what do you want next?'

Julie stared hungrily at his rampant erection. ‘Oh, Rob,' she gasped, ‘I want your cock, all of it, right up inside me as far as it'll go. And Rob,' Julie continued, moaning passionately as she felt the bulbous tip part her nether lips, ‘do it hard; fill me, fuck me now.'

Which, obligingly, Rob did. Frustratingly slowly at first, making Julie wait as, inch by inch, he slid his cock into her velvet sheath. First tantalising her with slow, shallow thrusts and then without warning, grasping Julie's super-sensitised behind and brutally ramming his cock home. Again and again her hips rose to meet him as he ploughed his seemingly indefatigable prick the full depth of her vagina. Ultimately timing his coming to match Julie's, Rob flooded her aching pussy with thick, viscous sperm.

Back at the flat Julie shuffled on the sofa, clenching her thighs at the intensity of the memory. Beneath her hastily tidied uniform her bottom still glowed, and between her legs a pleasurable soreness reminded the delinquent policewoman of the intensity of their coupling. She shivered with self-conscious anticipation at the thought of the chastisement Rod had promised to visit upon her buttocks the next time they got a night alone together.

And to think, Julie reflected with a satisfied sigh, she'd set out to dominate
him
. She wouldn't try that trick again for a while. This had been quite a day, and if she didn't share her story with someone soon she'd go crazy. There was only one possible person she could trust to tell something so outrageous; oh, when would Carly be home?

At that precise moment Ms Carly Grant was shuffling painfully on a much less comfortable seat on the last bus from town. Her knowledge of spanking, or corporal punishment, as ‘Young' Mr James rather pompously referred to it, had undergone a very steep learning curve not two hours since. But, Carly reflected with a sigh of satisfaction, the trials and tribulations involved had certainly proved worthwhile - extremely worthwhile, in fact. She couldn't wait to get home and shock Julie with the story, and if she wasn't in, well, there was a pink, pouting pussy already aching to be filled again by a well used vibrator with Carly's name on it.

Earlier that day and only five minutes after Julie had left on her amorous mission, Carly followed her from the flat and set off for work in a different part of town. Past the police station, past the town hall, a short walk though a pedestrian precinct set incongruously with two pieces of sculpture - one modern, one Victorian, both hideous - past the elegant front portico of the town's only department store and round the back to the staff entrance.

Carly was even more ambitious in her professional and private life than Julie. She'd been fortunate to be accepted on the Jones Brothers management training course without a degree, having worked hard since leaving school at sixteen with just a handful of GCSEs to her name. Acquiring the necessary retail experience had meant starting at the bottom as a humble shop assistant and laboriously working her way up the career ladder; all the while saving assiduously for the deposit on a rented flat. Only shared, but her flatmate was brilliant and the space was paradise after five years of bedsits. As soon as she'd finished her exams she abandoned the family home to find freedom and fend for herself. If her mother chose to stay with that drunken slob who termed himself her stepfather - but still tried to feel her up at any opportunity - that was her lookout, but Carly was off.

So far the job was shaping up well. Jones Brothers were a long established firm with a pleasantly old-fashioned, if somewhat paternalistic, attitude to their employees. Effort was recognised and rewarded and workers were encouraged to train and develop their careers within the company, a welcome contrast to the casual hire and fire ethos of most shop work. The wages weren't brilliant but, Carly reasoned, shop money rarely was and staff discounts, free health care and a bullet proof pension - not that she intended to stay around so long - helped compensate.

Now, not to put too fine a point on it, Carly fancied ‘Young' Mr James, the son and heir to the family business, something rotten. Tall, fair, athletic and good-looking he radiated the sort of self-assured confidence available only those next in line for a multi-million pound inheritance. Auspiciously he was also extremely personable and pleasingly un-snobbish, on Christian name terms with everyone from the loading bay to the boardroom. Rumour had it he'd be a racing certainty to take over the reins from his father Mr Jonathan in a couple of years when the old boy retired, and Carly was anxious to insinuate herself into his affections before that happened.

Her most immediate problem was how. Without getting too dramatically Dickensian about her predicament, a girl from a council estate was hardly likely to inhabit the same social circle as a public school and Oxbridge educated scion of commerce. James was the forth generation to work in the family business and his predecessors' wives had all been drawn from the ranks of Sloanes, not showgirls. Thus far Young Mr James remained, mercifully, without a serious partner though there was no shortage of Annabels and Clarissas available to entertain him. Time was clearly in short supply, Carly had to act soon or any chance of upward social mobility she might have, real or imagined, would evaporate.

Fortunately, by dint of diligent personal enquiry, or what some might call snooping, Carly had found a chink in Mr James's armour; an apparent penchant for a certain, shall we say, recreational activity, not altogether unknown nor even unwelcome to Carly. Something she felt sure he'd love to indulge in but which he'd probably prefer not to share with the wider world in general and his paterfamilias in particular.

To be blunt, if people will read spanking magazines in their office it rather behoves them to lock their desk drawer. True, most junior colleagues, arriving early for meetings, are not in the habit of rifling personal possessions, but ambition can be a terrible thing.

What a capricious, almost Shakespearian twist of fate that the subject of Mr James's fascination should be an enthusiasm Carly shared. For as we already know, nothing so quickly got her in the mood than, as she so poetically phrased it, a well smacked bum. Carly didn't bother wasting money on therapy to discover why, to her enjoyment was its own reward and it evoked no feelings of shame. Her previous boyfriend had shown a particular flare for spanking, making sure to intersperse the slaps with teasing caresses of her most intimate parts.

Sadly, ruthlessly, she'd had to let him go, as a humble garage mechanic, good-looking and likeable though he was, had no place in Carly's master plan. She was more than prepared to earn money by her own efforts, painstakingly climbing the professional hierarchy with wits and application, but marrying into money was a parallel track to success and prudent insurance into the bargain. Blissfully unaware of the fact just yet, Mr James was her intended target and like the proverbial Mountie, Carly had a scheme to get her man.

Today, by coincidence Rob's birthday - and little more than a mile away across town proving a watershed for Julie - was the designated moment. Make or break time, if all went well, the stepping-stone to a whole new life for Carly. If not, then total failure and right back to the beginning.

‘Mr James would like to see you in his office,' announced the cultured voice of his PA, Ms Smith, from the end of a phone line.

‘Please tell him I'm on my way, thank you,' replied Carly, trying to suppress a tremor of nervousness.

Despite having spent the last six weeks engineering just such an encounter, Carly was scared. Managerial meetings considered likely to involve ‘unpleasantness' such as disciplinary procedures or even, although rarely, dismissal, were always arranged for the last appointment of the day. Miscreants were discreetly ushered into the MD's palatial office by Ms Smith who would then, circumspectly, go home, thus saving possible embarrassment for all concerned. From Julie's particular point of view the arrangements couldn't be more perfect - no witnesses and no interruptions.

‘Ah, Ms Dowson, do please come in.'

Heart thumping, tummy in, chest out, shoulders back, Carly walked slowly across the carpet, coming to a halt in front of a large oak desk, behind which calmly sat the object of her unrequited desire.

There was no polite invitation to sit; Young Mr James was clearly cross. God, he looked more toothsome than ever today. There was something about a man in a suit… Carly realised he was already into the point of the summons, and decided she'd better concentrate on what he was saying.

‘…Shocked and appalled to discover a quite dreadful mistake which could quite easily have cost us a major foreign customer of many years' standing…'

Well of course he discovered the cock-up, thought Carly. She made sure he would, and took great care to be certain there was still ample time to rectify the problem.

‘…Fortunately managed to remedy the situation before it was too late…'

She mentally patted herself on the back for such good planning.