I was working in my office and needed to refer to some documentation for something or other. I don't remember what I was actually looking for but it really makes no difference. The important thing is that I had to go into her office in my search. She's technically my boss but we're all professionals on an equal level and her function is more of a scheduler than a supervisor. She was at a client's site that day so I couldn't just ask her for it. My only option was to look in her file cabinet to get whatever it was I needed. Imagine how I felt to see a folder labeled `Quillis'. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty surprising isn't it? I thought so. My non de plume is a word I made up and didn't remember any client or company that shared the title with me so I had to pull the folder and see what that was all about. I stared in disbelief at printouts of all my stories. A quick glance at the rest of the files and I found individual folders for a few of the more prolific writers in our little group and one labeled `SSS Misc.' that contained the work of the one-time posters. I had to smile as I remembered the first day I started working with this firm. Even before we were formally introduced I had noticed her fantastic rear end and in the nine years I had been here it only got better and better. It fact, that was my mental model for many bare bottoms in my stories and here was a strong indication that it was attached to someone who was a dedicated student of the art of spanking. I didn't want to be too hasty in my judgment so I had to temper my enthusiasm. She may just like to read about that subject and might not be a practitioner. Still, as you can guess, it was something to discover this side of her. Imagine what it would be like to find out that someone you've known for years is as interested in spanking as you are. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty exciting isn't it? I thought so. Some of the papers showed signs that they had been read many times and I'm proud to say that my stories fell into that category. I reread some of my older ones and remembered the fun I had writing them and to think that just down the hall from me was a fan who kept copies for multiple perusals. Imagine what she would think if she knew one of her favorite authors used her as his fantasy model in many of those tales. Go ahead, imagine. Pretty sexy isn't it? I thought so but I wasn't sure whether to be pleased or not at my next discovery. She had more than one copy of some of my musings and I recognized early drafts. I should explain that I usually write a story quickly and let it sit for a day or two before going back see if it needs any modifications. Quite often my characters lead me in directions I hadn't planned on so it's not unheard of for me to revise the beginning of the story to better support the ending. I rarely worked on my stories at the office but occasionally I would transfer a work in progress from my laptop to the better machine on my desk and do a little editing while eating lunch. I didn't feel that this was stealing company time and would put my revisions back onto the portable when I had to visit some nice and lonely hotel. It must have been during one of those times that she got into my computer and found the unfinished versions. Imagine my concern about knowing she was aware of the proximity of writer to reader and said writer was one of her employees. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty disconcerting isn't it? I thought so at first. I knew she kept her bowling statistics on the computer so we all had tacit approval to use the company owned equipment for non-business purposes. Although I thought of my contributions to the literary world as artistic expressions of human emotions reflected in committed relationships and the sharing of love through explorations into God's gift of sexuality that just happens to involve one of them getting her ass spanked, paddled, strapped, etc., etc., etc. there are some narrow minded people that might see a significant difference between them and sports records. I had a feeling she wasn't one of those people or she wouldn't have read and saved the offerings of SSS but it still worried me a little. I put her files back in order and took out the document that was the true object of my search. Imagine trying to concentrate on office chores with those discoveries so fresh in your mind, Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty distracting isn't it? I thought so and gave up. I figured, what the heck, it wouldn't be stealing company time for me to do something to improve my mental condition besides preparing boring old client reports. I'm normally a shy person and couldn't see myself confronting her directly but I had an idea. I spent the afternoon writing a story that mentioned her by name. I described the office building and our facilities. Although stopping just short of explicitly identifying our company, I mentioned the type of work we do and anyone who knew of us would recognize the location and more specifically, her in the story. It wasn't one of my best efforts but that was just fine. It would look like I had left it on the computer for editing and eventual posting. Now all I had to do was wait. I knew she would see it and I wish I could be there when she did. I hoped she would be just a little excited reading how I saw her and maybe a little flattered. Then it would dawn on her that it was well within the realm of possibility that one or more of her clients might also be frequent visitors to the newsgroup. It would be close to impossible for them not to realize that the story was about her. Imagine sitting in a meeting and never knowing which of the other people present saw through her professional demeanor and knew that she was really nothing more that a little tart who likes to get her bottom spanked. Pretty unnerving isn't it? I thought so and that was my plan. She would have to take some action to prevent me from posting it and that meant admitting to reading my personal files on the computer. If she stayed silent she would have to live with the eternal questions of whether clients were looking at her slides during a presentation or trying to get a better view of her now famous rear end. Which eyes were slowly raising her dress and peeling her panties off? Would they see her confidence as nothing more that a thin veneer covering the scared little girl about to be spanked? She wouldn't dare look down or they would view it as her head hanging in shame before she shuffled to her fate. Heaven forbid she should drop anything on the floor. How should she pick it up? With legs straight and bent at the waist as if she was stretching her skin in preparation for the cane? Even if she performed the more ladylike motion of keeping her back straight as she bent her knees couldn't that be seen as genuflecting in front of an unseen Master to show her submission? Every time she had a private meeting there would be someone watching closely when she returned. Would she sit down or stay on her feet because they had done more than discuss business? Was part of the reason for her success because she provided an extra service? Did her hourly rate include not only the use of her brain but the abuse of her other end? Would attendance at her conferences soar because everybody would hope to be there when she made a mistake and have to be punished? Maybe this would be the day they saw her bent over the conference table while getting her bare bottom whipped with a belt. Imagine someone writing down all these possibilities. Never mind, you don't have to imagine that, I just did it but what you can try imagining is me imagining her imagining her clients imagining how she looks and acts when she's getting punished and me imagining her imagining her clients imagining that they were the lucky ones doing the spanking. Go ahead, imagine that. Pretty confusing isn't it. I thought so but I didn't want to take the time to figure out a better way to write it. Besides, those were the kind of things I mentioned in my story about her. Anyway, the trap was set. Now to put out the bait. She came back into the office late in the afternoon and I invited her into my office to exchange pleasantries and discuss business. It was very interesting to chat with her now that I knew a little more about her special interests. It was all I could do to maintain eye contact during our conversation and not stare at that glorious rear end. I saw her glance into the wastebasket next to my desk. She was a sly one and nonchalantly commented that it looked like I had my lunch at my desk. I pretended to be innocent of her real question and vaguely admitted that I had been doing some personal work while I ate. When I went home I noticed that she was still there and since she knew I was heading off on another trip in a few days she would probably look on my computer to see if I spent my lunch hour working on a new story. I am not a neatness freak and as usual had a number of papers scattered around in a seemingly random manner. However, I carefully positioned one or two so she would have to move them to get to the mouse and keyboard. The next morning the papers were still there but not exactly in the same place. It looked like she had taken the bait and the slight flush on her face when I passed by her office on the way to the coffee room and said, "Good morning." convinced me. All through the day she seemed to be avoiding me but there were things we had to go over about my client. It was wonderful to watch her squirm. She knew that I knew that she knew about my stories but was too embarrassed to talk about it. Every time I pointed to one of the papers on the table she had to look down and would read very fast. Her face would rise again looking a bit chagrined at having been in the position of submission and shame even for a second. She had to write something on the whiteboard and she was so uncharacteristically flustered that she dropped the marker. I could see the indecision as she considered how to pick it up. Ready for the cane or genuflecting? She chose the latter and although a crouch was sufficient, she did let one knee touch the floor for a moment. I considered that a hopeful sign. I joined her in putting more technogibberish on the whiteboard and asked her to get a manual I needed. Unfortunately, it was on the far side of the table and slightly out of her reach so she had to lean way over to get it. Needless to say, this put the bottom of my dreams in a very nice position for viewing and she was quite red-faced when she shoved the book at me. I couldn't ignore it any more so I asked if she was all right. The strong willed woman I usually work with rose from the embers of embarrassment and snapped, "No damn it and you know why. We'll talk about this later. Be in my office at 5:30." She stormed out of the conference room in a huff but I could see the redness in her eyes and knew that tears were not far away. The poor woman. I almost felt sorry for her. Imagine how I felt to be the one directly responsible for her consternation? Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty euphoric isn't it? I thought so and was grinning like the Cheshire cat as I gathered up the papers and went back to my own desk. It was a long afternoon and she stayed in her room with the door closed for most of it. If she had to emerge she would pass me with a stern look and avoid my eyes and when she tried glaring at me, the grim expression turned to one of despair and she almost ran back to her sanctuary. The rest of the staff was gone by 5:15 and although the minutes dragged by I waited even longer. It was almost 6:00 when I knocked on her door. She was armed for bear and immediately seized on my tardiness as an excuse to gain the upper hand quickly. I took the wind out of her sails with my explanation that I wanted to post something to a newsgroup first. She went white and fell into a chair as she gasped, "How could you?" I ignored the obvious answer that I connect my computer to a phone line, dial into my internet account, access the newsgroup and send the post. I think she already knew how to do that but what she meant was, "How could you send that story for the world to see and embarrass me in front of all our clients?" I was all innocence as I said, "I'm sorry. I was done with my work and wanted to respond to a question on my woodworking group. One of the folks wanted an opinion on bandsaws. I didn't think it would get you this upset." Her eyes narrowed as she hissed, "Damn you. You did that on purpose knowing which newsgroup I would think of. The secretary told me you were asking about the Quintet account and she sent you to look in my file cabinet for it so I know you found the Quillis folder. You set me up with your new little bit of pornography didn't you?" I smiled and that was all the answer she needed as she built up steam. "I could fire you right now for sexual harassment and if you post it I'll sue you for libel, slander, defamation of character and anything else my lawyers can think of. You'll be penniless and lots of luck trying to find another job. You picked the wrong woman to mess with pal." Imagine what you would think if you heard a speech like that. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty impressive isn't it? I thought so but I wasn't shaking in my boots. I calmly responded, "First of all, I've done nothing to sexually harass anyone. The file you found on my computer was not in a place where it would offend anyone and I don't recall sending it to you. Some of the stories you keep in an open file cabinet where anyone could find them might fall into the category of sexually explicit material that doesn't belong in the workplace but you'll have to look closer to home to find the one who put them there. I had a legitimate reason for looking in that drawer but you're the one who was snooping around the private directories on my computer. I fail to see how I can be responsible for you stealing something you say you find objectionable. If you really want to fire the one who brings in the highest billing rate you could try `using company property for personal use' as an excuse and I will go quietly but I'm taking my clients with me. As to your threat of litigation, I see a few holes in your case. First you would have to prove I wrote the story. The printout you have won't stand up in court. You could've downloaded the file and changed the date before printing it so that's not very good evidence. You might think the description fits you but I would just love to see you bending over the bailiff's lap to display exhibit #1. Regardless of what I think of it, the jury may not feel that what they are seeing is the most perfect bottom in the world and just made to be spanked. No, I don't think you really want to bring this out in public. Even if you won, think about where your clients would be looking every time you turned your back to them. Could they resist staring at the rear end that started a lawsuit?" I scored and she seethed. I took advantage of her dumbfounded silence to speak again, "By the way, I wasn't done with that story and did a lot of work on it last night. The one I have now is considerably different than the version you stole and it's the one I intend to share with the newsgroup but I'll make you a deal. All my stories are fiction. I never write about real life experiences or at least I never post them so if this new `bit of pornography' truly reflected an actual event, I would keep it private. Maybe you ought to read it now and then we'll talk some more. I'll be in my office." I gave her a hard copy of the latest version and took my leave. What she had in her hands was much better written if I do say so myself and I had whittled down the number of spankings. It now consisted of a lengthy and detailed description of her getting a long overdue punishment in the conference room after normal business hours by an unnamed but devilishly handsome coworker. The choice was hers. Would she let me post my fantasy or hold me to my promise to refrain from publishing the details of a real life encounter. Imagine how she would feel if she knew that I had a third version of the story where everything except my description of her bottom was changed and she would be quite safe from public humiliation. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty relieving isn't it? I thought so but I wasn't going to tell her I had no plans to post the one she had in her hands just yet. I was going to let her stew awhile and maybe she would think twice before poking her nose where it didn't belong again. It was more than 10 minutes before I heard her walking down the hall and opening the office supply cabinet. A few seconds later she stood in my open door with the printout in one hand and an 18 inch wooden ruler in the other. In the story this is the implement I use on her bare bottom and the first part of punishment is that she had to bring it to me. Imagine how she felt to show me she had opted for making it a real life and therefore unpublishable story. Pretty humiliating isn't it? I thought so and loved every minute. I we continued she would give the ruler to me and go to the conference room where the sentence was to be carried out but I thought this much was sufficient to drive my point about honoring other people's privacy home. She was on the verge of tears and visibly shaking in fear as she asked, "Is this the price of your silence?" I felt my mission was accomplished so I said, "If by `this' you mean following that script and bringing me the ruler the answer is Yes. That is all I wanted. You can put it away and go home. I think you've learned your lesson. I've already removed all references to you and the company so you're safe from anyone but me associating you with the woman in the story. I'm sorry this all happened and hope it doesn't destroy our professional relationship. You're darn good at what you do and a very nice person. I've enjoyed working with you in the past and maybe someday we can laugh about tonight and return to being friends again." I couldn't read her response. There should've been relief or residual anger or something but her face was blank. She looked at the papers in one hand and then to the ruler in the other and then back to the script she thought she was going to be forced to follow. Finally her face showed some emotion as she looked at me. What I saw was confusion and although I couldn't believe it at first, disappointment. She had a catch in her throat as she held up the story and asked, "Does that mean you're not going to do this?" Language is a beautiful thing in its ability to express subtle meanings. I noticed that she did not ask if I was going to use blackmail and coerce her into accepting the full retribution I had outlined. I considered that a major difference so I took her hand and led her into my office. I put the ruler on my desk before leaning back and saying, "Maybe I should reconsider. What exactly does it say?" Imagine having the woman with the gold medal bottom reading your story out loud so you could hear her telling you how she would present herself for and receive a series of spankings that ended with her bare rear end absorbing the impacts of the ruler? Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty arousing isn't it? I thought so and it appeared she did too. Although embarrassed at first, she soon lost the hesitancy in her voice and spoke in clear tones as she related my vision of how she should be punished. She made it extra special by changing a few words. Where the story mentioned her by name she read that as `I' and replaced the female pronouns accordingly. Likewise, the references to the male partner in this dance became `you' meaning her very appreciative audience. It shouldn't have been hard physically but she was breathing rapidly towards the end and the hand not holding the paper was drifting down in very close proximity to the true star of the narrative. She was able to look at me numerous times during her recital and her eyes added to my assumption that she was finding this experience somewhat erotic. They were wide open, shining brightly and a few inches above a mouth that was smiling as it formed the words. Since I was standing I'm afraid my reaction to her oral interpretation was fairly evident and I caught her glancing at that a few times. She ended her performance by dropping the papers and showing me that she had already memorized the last few paragraphs. Now she had both hands free and unashamedly acted out the ending of the script by rubbing and comforting her bottom as if she had actually gotten spanked. Imagine how I felt to see her do that. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty hope inspiring isn't it? I thought so and raised my eyebrows as a question. She lowered her head and went down on one knee for a moment before rising and heading out the door. She did not head towards her office but turned towards the conference room. I grabbed the ruler off the desk and followed her. She couldn't have gotten to the room more than a few seconds before me but when I arrived she was already bent over the edge of the table and holding the far side. She looking straight ahead and I couldn't see her face but that wasn't what I was most interested in right then anyway. The dress she wore was loose fitting but in her present posture it draped her rear very attractively. Imagine seeing the bottom you've only dreamed of pushed out and waiting for you to spank it? Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty wish fulfilling isn't it? I thought so and walked slowly to heighten our anticipation of my first contact with it. When I put the ruler on the table I first put one end of it down very softly and then slammed the rest of it against the wood. The crack echoed around the room and she jumped but didn't turn her head. However, we both knew she was thinking about when that hard object would be making similar sounds as it landed on a softer surface. My script called for her introduction to corporal punishment at my hands to be with my hands so I rested one of them on her back and brought the other one into play hard and fast. The multiple layers of clothing probably shielded her from the full effect but it got her attention. After a few more just as hard she spoke up. "Please go a little easier. I've never been spanked before so I'm not used to it." I said, "You like thinking about getting spanked don't you?" She nodded and I continued, "Didn't you realize that spankings are supposed to hurt?" This time she raised up on her elbows and faced me as she answered, "Yes but thinking about it and actually getting one are two different things. I know it's going to hurt soon enough. All I'm asking is for you to give me a chance to work my way up to it." I smiled and agreed but with a condition. "I'm going to give you at least a few at full force at the end of each stage. It'll be good for you to know what to expect if you ever do this again but I'll warn you, when it's time for the ruler on your bare bottom I won't hold back. You'll know what its like to have a well spanked rear end when we're done." She nodded again and said, "That sound fair but what if I decide I really don't like it?" I gently rubbed the area in question and said, "All you have to do is ask me to stop and I will. That applies to all parts of the spanking except the last. If we get that far you have given up your right to call it quits and I'll have the only vote as to when you've had enough of the ruler." I gave her rear end a little pat and she settled back on the table. In keeping with my promise to let her get used to the idea of someone bringing this sort of activity from fantasy to reality I kept the swats fairly soft. Actually, I didn't mind doing it this way as it gave me more opportunity to feel what I was going to slowly unveil. I ended this first phase with three hard slaps and then made a suggestion. "I'm serious about giving you a real spanking with the ruler but how about if I give you another three swats with it now and at the end of each of the next two spankings. That way you can make an educated choice whether to stop or not before I begin the grand finale." She looked up at me and said, "Those last three were pretty good by themselves but you're right. I'd like three more with the ruler please." I granted her request and got her first vocal reaction to the swats. It was a quiet one and more like a quick moan but it let me know she was starting to get a little more sensitive back there. According to our script she was to raise her dress herself and while she stood up I got a cushion from one of the chairs to put against the edge of the table for her. She appreciated it and so did I. It made her bottom stick out even more and her slip clung to her like a second skin. It also felt so nice and silky under my hand as I slowly started the next spanking. She stayed pretty quiet during most of that one but was making little noises by the time I gave her the three hard ones. She yelped quietly and said, "Oh That hurt. Can I have three more with the ruler please." Although our scenario called for her to voluntarily remove each barrier to a proper spanking I hadn't included a requirement for her to actually ask for her punishment. Imagine how I felt to hear her say those words. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty satisfying isn't it? I though so. I got three good yelps out of her before she stood up to add her slip to the material gathered at her waist. She had been given no restriction from rubbing her bottom between spankings so she repeated the hand motions she performed at the end of her reading only this time it was not an imaginary sting. I waited until she reached for the hem of her slip and reminded her that such comforting actions would not be allowed during the spankings, only afterwards. She said she understood and hoped she would be able to comply. I took off my tie and put it on the table with the explanation that I would use it to bind her hands if she found keeping them in front of her was too difficult but they would be freed when she needed them. She gulped and said, "That may be a good idea but give me a chance to try on my own first." She had no trouble raising her dress a few minutes ago but this time the slip was going come up with it and reveal something more intimate. It took her another few seconds to compose herself and then she lifted both of them very quickly and put herself back on the table just as fast. Imagine what that unbelievable rear end looked like with only a pair of panties covering it. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty wonderful isn't it? I thought so and was almost reluctant to stop staring and start spanking. She had a firm grip on the far edge and that perfect bottom was quivering ever so slightly. She was so mentally prepared for my swat that she jumped as soon as I touched her. It wasn't what she was expecting and she turned her face towards me and managed to smile as I ran my hand over the thin cotton and gently squeezed the soft flesh it barely concealed. I returned her smile and said, "This is a dream come true." She answered, "For both of us. I've been wanting to try spanking for as long as I could remember but never had the nerve to actually do it. It was a shock to discover that you and Quillis were the same person and since then I've thought about you doing something like this to me a lot. When you left my office and I read your story I was torn between excitement and humiliation. Here was my wish for you to spank me spelled out in complete detail but I didn't expect it to be under those circumstances. I wanted my first experience to be, I don't know, more romantic sounds silly but something other than actual punishment. I knew I deserved it but the thought of putting myself over this table because I had to was overriding the hope that I would someday do this with you because I wanted to. I'm glad things turned out the way they did." If it wasn't so far to walk around the table I would've kissed her but I let another gentle squeeze express my feelings and she grimaced a little. "My bottom hurts a little but in a way it was what I expected and I'm not ready to quit. I want the whole thing." I gave another squeeze and started the soft tapping again as she turned away. Those gentle swats didn't stay that way for long. She had moved from beginner to intermediate and my hand started landing harder. I half expected a complaint but except for her small cries of pain she kept her views on my increased efforts to herself. I built up to a crescendo and really lay into her for the last three. When she realized this portion was ended she turned her teary eyes to me and between sniffles said, "This is tougher than I thought. Could we stop for a few more minutes?" Imagine how she looked with her hair all askew and tears running down her face. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty pitiful isn't it? I thought so and agreed to the time out but she clarified her request by adding, "I meant after I get another taste of the ruler. Would you give three more with it before I get up please." That was followed by three small screeches and she lay on the table for another few moments before she stood up. Her dress and slip fell back into place and she held her hands together tightly. I reminded her that it was O.K to rub herself if she wanted to but she declined the offer. "I might in a minute but I've got to try and bear it as long as I can. I'll never get through the paddle without trying to reach back if I don't practice now." I decided that if she really wanted to keep her hands away from her bottom I could find a use for them. I opened my arms and she wrapped hers around me. I did the same and got a wet shoulder as she let herself cry freely. After a few minutes she asked if I had a pen. I dug one out of my pocket and she did a little impromptu editing of my story. She scratched out where it said she was supposed to stay on the table and I would pull down her underpants. Her replacement was written from her perspective and said, "I stood up and removed everything except my panties. When I was back on the table you slowly finished the job of making me completely naked for what was to come. Everything you did, everything you said and every carefully delivered swat was only to prepare me for this moment. I was now exactly as you wanted me. Totally nude and waiting for you and the stiff wooden ruler to punish me as I truly deserved." She handed it to me and then took it back to change her last word from `deserved' to `needed and wanted'. Now there was no table in the way to prevent me from giving her a kiss. She returned it enthusiastically and then stepped back as her hands finally went behind her but only to pull down her zipper. Maybe she was stalling for time to delay her last spanking as long as possible or maybe she wanted to make her disrobing as erotic as she could for my benefit. She was successful on both counts. Walking to place her dress neatly in a chair clad in her slip was beautiful. And when she slid the shoulder straps off and let the lacy garment shimmer down her body it was breathtaking. She stepped out of it and turned her back to me to pick it up. She kept her legs straight and bent way over so that glorious rear end wrapped in white cotton and framed by her garter straps was a sight to behold. She kept her back to me as she unsnapped and rolled down her stockings and then the garter belt. I saw her hands unhook her bra and she turned to face me again as it slid down her arms and threw it to one side. Her breasts were not very large and I usually favored looking at the world's most perfect rear end but I would have to expand my horizons in the future. These two attributes were lovely and since she was displaying them so proudly I felt I had to touch them. Imagine how it felt to wrap my hands around those two previously undiscovered treasures. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty electrifying isn't it? I thought so and so did she. She closed her eyes in erotic delight as I tweaked her nipples and I was sorely tempted to forego the final spanking in favor of other activities but when I suggested that she was still wearing too many clothes she pulled away from me and went back onto the table. She popped back up a few inches and informed me that the table was cold so I got a few more cushions she could lay on them. She smiled as she thanked me and then turned serious as she said, "I'm ready. Please take my panties off and spank me with the ruler. No wait. I've changed my mind." She was back on her feet and before I had a chance to figure out if I should be disappointed or not she used both hands to rub her bottom vigorously as she added, "I couldn't keep from doing this. I have to try and get some of the stinging relieved before you start again. I guess this means I'm not ready for a spanking like the one you're going to give me and keep my hands out of the way for very long. Would you tie my hands now?" When we were both satisfied that I hadn't impeded her circulation but she was unable to free herself she went down on one knee and lowered her head as she said, ""I am yours to do with as you wish." Imagine what I thought to see this strong and extremely competent woman bowing in supplication and offering herself body and soul to my whim. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty domineering isn't it? I thought so and in my sternest voice commanded her to get back on the table where she would learn the true meaning of punishment. Oh the glorious moment when I started those panties on their downward trek. Inch by inch I exposed the most wondrous, fantastic, beautiful, adorable, tastefully decorated with pink splotches and just begging to be spanked some more bottom. What I saw peeking out between her legs showed great promise too but that would have to wait. I put the sacred underwear on the table and picked up the ruler. She was watching me and saw it in one hand as the other touched the marks from her earlier spankings so she didn't jump like she did last time I decided to feel the territory I was about to bring to a new level of consciousness. So soft. So smooth. So in need of what I held in my other hand. When she saw me get it ready for its first contact with bare skin she turned her head away and rested it on the cushion. It rose up with a cry a moment later. Her neck got lots of exercise because I didn't rush the spanking and gave her plenty of time to fully appreciate each individual swat and let her head fall forward and relax for a second before it popped up again when the next stroke landed. I didn't want to overdo her first experience so after about two dozen swats I let her cry and threw the ruler onto the table so its clatter would let her know it was over. If I tried for a million years I couldn't get a ruler that size to land on a part of her panties and slide onto the rest of the material so quietly. I had to pick it up and hold the panties as I tried again. This time there was no doubt the thing was on the table and out of my hands. She was startled by the noise but as soon as she saw the cause she let her head go back to the cushion and between her sobs I thought I heard a sigh of relief. She kept a bottle of hand lotion on her desk and she was still on the table when I returned. She saw what I had and moaned her thanks as I applied it where it would do the most good. To be honest, my hand had also suffered from its frequent contact but I'm sure it was slightly less in need of the soothing ointment then the surface it was sharing the lotion with. She asked how it looked and I said, "It all depends on how you feel about corporal punishment as a recreational activity. It's still quite red and you have a few bruises but they'll be gone in a day or so. All in all I'd say you have a very well spanked bottom and you should be proud of it." She answered, "Personally I think I would be prouder of my rear end if I could detach it and just see it rather than feel it. I'm not sure I would call what I just went through a lot of fun but I'm glad we did it. I guess I should thank you properly." To show me what she meant she struggled to her feet and after a vain attempt to see the results of the spanking for herself, knelt in front of me. She lowered her head and raised her arms as she said, "I need these." She was referring to her hands which were still tied together and a moment later weren't. She used them to operate another zipper which was much shorter than the one at the back of her dress. As she extracted me from my pants she looked up at me and smiled before lowering her head to its task. Imagine having the mouth that threatened to terminate my contract and bring legal action only an hour ago slowly wrapping itself around me. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty heavenly isn't it? I thought so and had to lean against the table to keep my balance as my knees went weak with the joy of sexual satisfaction emptying into her. When she stood up again she used those hands to hold me close and we kissed for a long time. A quick demonstration on a chair convinced her that what she read in all those stories about sitting after a good hard spanking being very uncomfortable was true. She coyly said she wasn't sure if she could concentrate on anything but her bottom's objections to having most of weight on it and didn't think it would be wise for her to drive. I had only the safety of the other people on the road in mind also as I took the hint and offered to deliver her to her house. She graciously accepted my offer and put on her bra, slip and dress with the explanation that she didn't care for the thought of putting anything constricting on her rear end. We turned off the lights and locked the office. In my car she winced as she slowly eased herself down on the seat. Every little bounce got a moan of discomfort and she said she made the right decision. I didn't ask if she was talking about her decision to refrain from operating a car or her decision to let me give her the spankings. I hoped she meant both. When we got to her place she invited me in for supper. We found some food in her refrigerator that I threw together while she changed clothes. When she reappeared she was wearing a bathrobe and apologized for her attire by saying, "I hope you don't mind but I didn't feel like putting much on since I intend to go to bed right after we eat." I just nodded and have to admit I was just a little disappointed. I was hoping to spend more time with her. She showed that she suffered some aftereffects on our conference by squirming and otherwise trying to find a comfortable way to sit. We ate the meal in silence and then I said I should leave. As I walked towards the door she said, "You don't really have to go, do you? Maybe I didn't make myself clear." She opened her robe to make the fact that it was the only thing she wore very clear and added, "I said I was going to bed but I didn't say I was going to sleep. At least not for a few more hours." Imagine turning down an invitation like that. Go ahead, imagine it. Pretty foolish isn't it? I thought so and soon after she wasn't the only one nude and the bed was nothing more than a base of operations. Our experiments in finding new and unusual ways to share our desires involved other furniture throughout her whole house but we would relax between bouts under the sheets and snuggled together until the gentle caresses turned into the start of more athletic events. In the morning I woke up to the smell of coffee and the most beautiful woman walking around the kitchen. I looked at the clock and said, "Wow, it's late. I better get moving. We've got to get you to work before anyone sees me drive you there and starts the gossip mill going. I'll drop you off and then go home to get fresh clothes. She smiled and gave me a sweet kiss as she told me that she had left a note on the receptionist's desk explaining that we had to go to a client's site. There would be nothing abnormal about us meeting at the office early in the morning and driving together. That would explain her car in the parking lot and it also said we would be gone all day. Again, nothing out of the ordinary for two consultants to end the day having a leisurely dinner on the road to discuss the day's business so nobody would be surprised if we didn't get back to the office until very late that night. My boss had just given me the day off and she was providing the entertainment. Actually we both shared that chore and we did have lunch on the road. We were heading to my place where there was lots of new furniture to explore and since it had been about 18 hours since her first spanking, it was time for a refresher. Since then she has sent me quite a few of her own `stories' that had to be acted out to prevent publication and there's a lot of ideas I put into the computer that never ended up on SSS either. Imagine getting erotic e-mail from or sending similar messages to the woman who's now your wife and knowing in a short time these shared fantasies would become reality? Go ahead, imagine it. Life is good, isn't it? Yes.