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It would make sense to read the first part of this story to understand what is going on here. The story was about my wife, Paula Mann

My first job

I had made some friends while I was in university but there was one special boy, Maurice Oakland, who I spent a lot of time with during the week. I told him, however, that Sundays were a special time for me and I was not to be disturbed. He seemed to think I was very religious and while I still went to church every Sunday, I had other things to do on Sunday that he would never find out about.

I ended the year with a good result but that was all the education my father would pay for. I had to get a job.

I had been offered a job in Durham in a factory owned by Maurice’s father. I was sorry to leave Auntie Mae and Uncle George, but It was a good job with a good salary which I needed because I would have to start paying rent as well as my Open University fees to finish my degree.

I managed to find a nice bedsitter to live in Durham and although it was small and I had to share a bathroom, I was finally on my own and working for a living. My boyfriend’s father owned the factory but he was rarely there, and my boyfriend had to do another two years at university so I was really on my own. I was given a job in the office which I soon mastered and my boss found that she could give me more and more work to do and eventually, responsibility as well.

After three months in Durham, my boyfriend and I split up. The distance was just too much to manage but I was leaving him behind in maturity as well. He hadn’t found out that I like to be spanked, although I am sure he would have liked to. But it turned out that he was a bit of a wimp and I was definitely in charge of that relationship. His father, Brian Oakland, was different.

After the split with Maurice, Mr. Oakland asked me to come and see him in his office after work.

His office was on the fourth floor in the corner. I had only been there once before when I came for my interview. Normally I would have been interviewed by HR but as I was his son’s girlfriend at the time, he thought he should see me.

So three months later, I was to visit his office again. I was a little nervous as I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. I was wearing jeans of course but I also had on a nice blouse and jacket because I had to look good in the office.

His secretary’s desk was empty so I knocked on the impressive office door and heard “Come” from inside.

“Ah Paula, come in, sit down,”

The office was large and there was a corner window with a view of the factory. The desk must have been two meters long and a meter wide. I remembered Uncle George telling me once, that the bosses had big desks. “The bigger the desk, the more important the man.” and this was a big desk with matching guest chairs in front of it. On the opposite wall was an impressive painting of the founder of the company. My boyfriend’s granddad I think. A drinks cabinet on the side and a circular dining table and four chairs completed the furniture and I guessed it was all antique. It was certainly impressive.

The other thing that was impressive was the man himself. He was standing up looking out the window as I came into the room and he directed me to one of the guest chairs in front of his desk. He was tall, probably about 6ft 2ins and slim. My boyfriend boasted that he used to row for Oxford and still goes out on the water twice a week. Standing at the window with a straight back he looked very impressive.

“I love this view,” he said to me. “I can see the whole factory from here and the parkland on the other side. I own this whole area. Did you know that?”

I spoke for the first time “No I didn’t.”

“Yes, my father bought it when the land was cheap here and I could probably sell it for more than this business if I wanted to.”

“And do you want to?” I seemed to be getting my voice back.

“No, I don’t. I want to leave it to my boy and him to his children if the wimp ever has the nerve to have any”

“He’s not a wimp!” I don’t know why I was defending him, I had called him a wimp often enough.

“Oh come on Paula. He is my son and I love him but he’s a wimp. I don’t suppose he ever told you what to do, or spanked you when you made mistakes. I spank my wife often just to keep her in line. I think that is important, don’t you?”

“I suppose so.” I wasn’t sure what to say. This man is my boss’s, boss’s, boss and very demanding. If you work for a man like that you tend to be submissive, don’t you?

“I also spank Maurice, cane him as well when he is at home on Sunday but it hasn’t made any difference, he’s still a wimp.”

I couldn’t help smiling, He was also punished on Sunday. That was something we had in common and neither of us knew it.

“I caught him wearing his Mum’s knickers once, I don’t know what you saw in him. You need a stronger man and I am going to show you how a strong man should act. Come over here Paula and bend over my desk.”

I halkalı escort sat still in the chair carefully choosing my next move.

“I said bend over this desk. You do want to keep your job don’t you?”

What could I do? Leave his office and the company I guess, with no job, no reference, and a full-year lease on my bedsitter.

“Come on Paula I am sure you were spanked at home by your parents.”

“No Mr. Oakland.”

“Well, you should have been. Maurice told me all about how you cheated on him and had another boyfriend at the same time.”

“But I didn’t”

“No point in lying to me, Maurice told me all about it. I told him that he should be strict with you, a spanking at least, maybe the cane, but he wouldn’t have it, so I am going to do what he should have done.”

“You have five seconds to get yourself over this desk with your jeans down or you will lose your job. I can’t have a liar and a cheat working in this company.”

He started to count and I realized I didn’t have a choice so I stood up and started to undo my jeans, I didn’t want to lose my place here. I didn’t mind being spanked, I was used to it after all, what I did mind about was Maurice lying.

Mr. Oakland didn’t waste any time. As I bent over the desk he pulled my knickers right up between my cheeks leaving my bottom bare and started to spank me with his hand. I was used to spanking, as I have said but this was different. He spanked furiously and I started to cry almost from the start. There was no 10-second gap between the spanks or gentle rubbing to take away the pain. This was punishment pure and simple.

Mr. Oakland pulled my knickers tighter and that started to hurt as well, but that was a different sort of hurt. At one stage he lifted me off the floor pulling my knickers, but he never stopped spanking me, until he did.

I lay over the desk not daring to pull the knickers out from between my cheeks as he sat in his chair watching me. He was the first to speak. “I hope you have learned your lesson here Paula. I may think my son is a wimp but he is my wimp and no young girl with half a degree is going to ditch him for another man.”

I was still crying at the injustice of it all. “But I didn’t.” I managed to get out between sobs.

“No more lies, please. Take off your knickers.”

I moved to get up but he spanked me again. “Did I say get up? No, I didn’t. I just said take off your knickers.”

I wondered what would happen next. “Is he going to rape me from behind?”. I was uncertain what to do, but he just said one word, “knickers”

So I reached behind me and edged my knickers down. It was quite a challenge as they were well and truly stuck between my cheeks, I remember thinking that I hope they are clean. Eventually, they fell to my feet and I stepped out of them.

Mr. Oakland was standing at the window with his back to me, surveying all he owned. “Just leave them on the desk on your way out. Next time it will be the cane”

I was sure there wasn’t going to be a next time as I left his office but as usual, I was wrong about that as well.

I get my own back

I walked home from work that Friday evening. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to sit on the bus comfortably and I was sure the walk would do me good. I was right. By the time I got to the pub just around the corner from my bedsitter, I had decided to have it out with Maurice. He has to tell his dad that he was mistaken and we mutually agree to separate. I walked into the pub, ordered a small draft beer, and went to the callbox in the corner to tell him to come and see me on Saturday afternoon. I wasn’t surprised when he agreed, he always did what he was told and anyway, he told me, he was coming to Durham to see his parents for the weekend.

I had a broad smile on my face when I hung up and ordered another beer when I sat at the bar. I know beer is not a lady’s drink but I like it, and my budget didn’t run to spirits and cocktails in those days, however fashionable they were.

Saturday afternoon came along very quickly, I had been busy all morning tidying and catching up with my washing, I also had to pop out to the hardware store, but that didn’t take long, so I had all afternoon to accomplish what I wanted. I wasn’t going to let that wimp affect my prospects at that company but to do that I had to get him to admit to his father that he had lied. Not such an easy task but I did have a few cards up my sleeve.

At two o’clock the bell rang and I walked downstairs to let Maurice in. I wasn’t in any hurry and it was raining outside. “Let me in Paula,” he was saying, “I am getting soaked.”

He followed me up the stairs and into my room. He knew where he was going, so he walked in and slumped down on the only armchair in the room. Don’t sit there in your wet clothes, you had better take them off and I will dry them in front of the gas fire. One of the cards up my sleeve was that he was used to doing what he was told so şirinevler escort in no time at all he had taken off his shirt and pants and stood there in just his ‘Y’ fronts and a white vest. He now looked very silly and rather small.

I pulled out the plastic-covered dining chair from under the small table. “Here, sit here,” I said. And he sat down.

“I have a bone to pick with you.” I started the conversation as I meant to continue. I was standing looking down at him.

“I was called into your Father’s office yesterday, and he told me that you had said I was cheating on you, and that is why we split up. You know that wasn’t true so why did you say it?”

“I am sorry Paula, I had to tell him something, he liked you and he said you were good for me so he was disappointed when we split up.”

“You didn’t have to lie, and now I might lose my job.”

“I am sorry Paula but I can’t do anything about that now. I can’t tell him that I lied.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.” Maurice was moving to stand up now so I pushed him back into the chair.

“You can’t because he will cane you for lying, well you deserve it don’t you.”

Maurice was visibly shocked. “How did you know?”

“Because he told me.”

There was silence in the room for a while.

I am going to make myself very clear so there is no misunderstanding. Two things are going to happen today. Firstly I am going to punish you for getting me into trouble and the second thing is that you are going to go home and tell your father that you lied.

“Oh God Paula, I can’t do that.”

“Which?”

“Oh you can punish me if you have to, I know I deserve that, but I can’t tell my Father that I lied. I just can’t.”

“Oh yes you can, because if you don’t I am going to tell him that you would always be wearing your Mum’s knickers when we had fun together, and if that doesn’t work I will tell him that you had a relationship with one of the boys at university.”

“How did you know about that?” Maurice was really scared now.

I am not sure which of the things I had said that he was most scared about. I had made both of them up but now he didn’t seem to be denying anything.

Maurice now had his arms on my small table holding up his head as he cried. “If my father finds out about that I am a dead man. At the very least he will throw me out and disinherit me.”

I let him cry for a while while he was trying to make up his mind. “Okay, okay, I will tell him. I have to, I guess.”

“Yes you have to but not until I have punished you for what you said to your father. I want to get my own back.” As soon as I said that I regretted it.

“Did my father punish you as well then?”

I wasn’t going to tell Maurice about being spanked by his father, but I had backed myself into a corner. “Yes,” I said with a small voice.

Maurice started to cheer up a little now, he thought he had found a kindred spirit and all the questions came flooding out. “Did he just spank you or cane you as well? Was it in his office? Bare bottom? I was caned in his office a few times when I was younger, where you bent over his desk. Oh, I wish I had been there to watch. Do you still have the bruises?”

“Oh stop it, Maurice. I just got a spanking over his desk and no, he didn’t take my knickers down.” I needed to take back control so I said, “But you will when I spank you. Get your pants down and bend over this table, I am going to take out my frustration on your bare bottom.”

Maurice was used to taking commands so he stood up and tried to hide his tented ‘Y’ fronts.

“Hands on your head.” I was enjoying myself now.

Maurice did as he was told and his pants seemed to stick out more. Taking the elastic I pulled them down with one quick movement and his enormous erection sprang free and bounced in front of my face. I had never seen it that big. We had fooled around quite a bit and he had managed to take my virginity with a little guidance, but, it seemed, he was never fully erect. Now he was, and then some.

“Well, well, well, Maurice. Look what you have been hiding all the time we were together.”

“I know, sorry. It does the same thing when my father is going to punish me as well. He tells me to go and masturbate first so it doesn’t get so big but it doesn’t seem to make any difference.”

It’s amazing what you don’t know about people. Maurice and I were together for eight months. He was my first real boyfriend but our sex life was not very good and I wondered if it was always going to be like that with boys. I managed much better orgasms on a Sunday on my own than I ever did with him. Now, with the size of his erection, I was getting very horny.

I needed to take back control again. “Right, get yourself over the table, I am going to put some colour into that white bottom of yours.”

Maurice bent and I started spanking him as soon as he was over. No waiting or rubbing, I learned that from his father. avcılar escort I spanked harder and harder until my hand hurt and then picked up the only thing I could reach from there and started spanking him with a kitchen spatula.

Maurice started crying as soon as I started spanking and was sobbing now, but he didn’t move or even ask me to stop. He must have learned that the hard way over the years. His bottom was glowing bright red as I put the spatula down but he still didn’t get up. His bottom was hot to the touch and I noticed that his erection had abated somewhat.

I let him calm down a little but he knew from experience not to stand.

I picked up the bamboo garden stake I bought at the hardware store this morning and swished it through the air. Maurice heard the noise and whispered “Oh God!” but didn’t move. The bamboo stakes came in a set of six and I thought I would never need all those. Just another thing I was wrong about.

I wasn’t sure how hard to swing the cane. Being on this end of the cane was all new to me, but I found it very exciting. If I thought I was horny just looking at Maurice’s erection I had no idea what horny was until I picked up the cane to use on a willing bare bottom. I loved this feeling and I had yet to start. I tapped Maurice’s bottom a few times just like Uncle George would have done and then brought my arm back. I wondered how hard it should be as I brought the cane down on his bare bottom.

“Ouch,” Maurice wriggled a little. “But Paula, my Father would have caned me much harder than that.”

I looked down and noticed his erection had returned to its former glory. “You are not meant to be enjoying this Maurice.”

“I am not, I hate it…. But I need it, I think.”

The cane came swooshing around again and landed squarely on the center of the target with all the force I could muster.

“Oww. One, thank you, Paula.”

This was new. When I had been caned by Uncle George he had never asked me to count, I am not sure I could anyway if the number got about 4 or 5, it just seemed to be one long cane stroke. But Maurice had been trained by his father over many years I guess, and he instinctively knows what to do.

With every stroke, Maurice’s erection bounced and seemed to get bigger. I am sure that wasn’t possible, it was just the way it seemed. I intended to stop at six, but I was enjoying myself too much. At seven Maurice jerked his bottom a few times and then ejaculated on the floor.

“MAURICE! What are you doing?” I knew exactly what he was doing of course but I was so surprised that I could hardly believe it. I had orgasmed over Uncle George’s knee many times and sometimes with Auntie Mae as well when I got my spanking just before bedtime, but never with the cane.

Maurice was very embarrassed. “I am so sorry Paula, it happens sometimes, I don’t seem to be able to control it. I usually get six more strokes when it happens.” With that, he bent over the table again.

“No Maurice, you have had enough and I need some release.” I was already undoing my jeans and pushing them down and off with my knickers. I stretched out on the bed on my back with my knees in the air. “Lick me!” I told him.

We had never done that and I am not sure how it worked, but I was very sure I wanted it.

Maurice was climbing on the bed between my knees “But we haven’t.”

I grabbed his head and pulled it towards my pussy. “Stick your tongue out.” Then I moved his head up and down over my very wet pussy. “Get the idea?” And he did.

I kept hold of his head guiding him. “Not there, there. That’s it. Now lower. Yes. Up a bit. Yes there. Yes.” And I came in bursts, raising my hips banging his mouth as I held his head down.

When I let Maurice go he was spluttering and wheezing. I am not sure if I nearly suffocated him or drowned him. I had certainly never cum like that before.

Ten minutes later his clothes were almost dry so I sent him on his way with the warning to tell his father the truth or I would be having a chat with his father myself.

“Yes. Right. Thank you, Paula, I will tell him tomorrow.”

And as a passing shot, I said. “You can also tell your father that we are back together and then come and see me once a month for more of the same.”

“Really? Oh thank you, Paula, I certainly will.” With that, I closed the front door in his face.

Lunch with the boss

The following week went past without incident but I wasn’t surprised to see a memo on my desk telling me that I had a meeting with Mr. Oakland at five-thirty that evening.

My boss, Miss Cavendish, also saw the memo and asked what it was all about. She knew I had been dating Maurice Oakland and that is how I got the job in the first place, so I told her it was probably to do with his son. “Let’s go out for lunch and discuss it,” she said. “Twelve thirty?”

It wasn’t a question so I just nodded. In those days young subordinates did as they were told.

I was quite pleased to be out to lunch with the boss. It was the sort of thing that happened to people who were doing well at work. So sitting in the coffee bar around the corner waiting for my ‘freshly made’ sandwich to appear and drinking my coke I was very happy.

Miss Cavendish started the conversation. “Mr. Oakland came to see me during the week and asked how you were doing?”

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