Читать книгу: «Across my Knee: The Delights of Spanking»

Birthday Surprise
Poppy St Vincent

‘You did what?’ His voice froze her with its tone.

‘I just thought you’d find it …’ There did not seem to be a good end to the sentence. Marie ran a manicured hand down her new dress and thought what a terrible waste. It should have been such fun.

‘She’s not an “it”.’ He looked at his girlfriend with hard eyes, for once genuinely angry at what she had done.

She scowled. ‘I never thought she was. I like her. I thought you’d like her too. I wanted you to be proud of me.’

‘OK.’ He sat on the sofa, leaned back and closed his eyes, then breathed in and out, just once but deeply, before he instructed her, ‘Tell me what you’ve done.’

She sat on the floor at his feet, curled her hands around his right leg and leaned her cheek on his knee. He could not see her face as she talked but that suited her.

‘It’s Ali; you know Ali. You know that she’s in a different department to me, accounting.’ She tried to pre-empt his question. ‘You know I have liked her for ages, we talked about that.’ Her cheeks coloured with a blush as she remembered what she had whispered in his ear. ‘Ali and I, well, we’ve talked before, but since my promotion things have … developed.’

She paused and pushed her head back a little, waiting for a comforting gesture, feeling the gentle weight of his hand on her head, but none came and she continued.

‘Well, you know I have to manage departments, and hers is one of them. I am her boss’s boss. Her boss, Mike, is a sweet guy, and terrified of me.’

She turned and looked at him for the first time, her neat eyebrows raised in a question.

‘No,’ he assured her. ‘I have never been scared of you. It’s never going to happen. Now get on with it. We don’t have a lot of time and I am going to give you a real hiding before she arrives.’

‘But you can’t! Not tonight! I am supposed to … I am …’

His eyes bore down on her. She turned away and nestled again, holding on to him tightly, continuing in a smaller and less confident voice. She knew if she argued at all it would be worse for her later. Even now she could feel her façade crumbling.

* * *

It had started properly about two months before. Mike had come to see her in her new role as his boss. As he often did when he spoke to Marie, he stood slightly farther away from her desk than would be considered normal and ran a shaking hand through his short hair as he spoke.

‘Do you mind if I speak to you about Ali? The thing is, she keeps coming in late, and when I speak to her about it she just laughs and says that’s why I get paid more than her.’

He paused and looked wistfully at the door.

Marie tipped her head to one side, causing waves of chestnut hair to curl on one shoulder and rest on her navy suit jacket. Her brow furrowed. ‘Seriously? That’s what she says? And you just took that?’

‘Er … yes. She thinks it’s my job to cover for her. I have spoken to her, but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind, because I know you are looking over … after my department now.’ Mike shifted a little on his feet. It had not occurred to either of them that he could have sat down.

Marie sighed but cut it short. ‘Sure, I will sort it out.’ She looked back at her work, and refrained from saying, ‘Don’t let the door hit you …’ though it could not have been more obvious.

Within twenty minutes Ali was sitting across from Marie. All Marie had asked was ‘How are you?’ and now she was listening to a rather high-pitched account of her recent run-ins with Mike and how unfair he was. Ali had had her hair cut, a new bob, almost a pixie cut, which suited her large brown eyes and made her monologue seem almost cute to Marie, but not quite.

‘We need to talk about being late,’ Marie interrupted. ‘About you being late, that is. You can’t be. You also can’t tell Mike that it’s his job to hold the fort for you when you are. It’s his job to bollock you if you’re late. God knows, if you were in my department I would. And now, of course, effectively you are in my department so don’t treat me as though I will let you get away with anything because I certainly won’t. I would make mincemeat of you if you spoke to me like you speak to him.’

And that’s when it happened. Ali opened her large brown eyes and looked up at Marie with surprise. Her olive skin took on a dusky pink hue and her lips formed a perfect round O of surprise.

Marie, who had told off plenty of adults, had never seen one react quite like this. She watched in silence as Ali transformed before her. She dipped her pretty little head as though Marie had pushed it down, her skin flushed a deep pink, and her lips moved as though to form an objection that never quite appeared.

Ali’s lowly posture reminded Marie of an ex-girlfriend, a very lovely girl with whom Marie had spent six months during her twenties. She remembered how she herself had responded when rebuked, the same shyness, the same almost virginal reaction. She thought also of her present lover, Ben, and how amused he would be by all this. And she saw a temptation, a possibility, and a delightful opportunity. All of these visions, ideas and possibilities came together as she watched Ali look down at her hands, which held one another on her lap.

Without missing a beat she said, ‘And do you know what I would do if you were in my department? I would make it so you never even thought of being late again. My people just don’t do this. You know that, don’t you?’

Ali’s shy smile faltered and she nodded a little, her head still dipped.

‘Ali?’

The girl looked up.

‘Has anyone ever told you off before? As an adult, I mean?’

Ali shook her head.

‘That explains a lot. You know that I am going to be overseeing your department from now on, and if you are late again I will be the one dealing with you, so a telling off will be the least you have to worry about. I have half a mind to make you stand in the corner and think about that.’

They both laughed a quiet, insincere laugh. Ali’s face was now bright pink and her eyes remained focused on the floor.

Marie dismissed her, watching the slightly awkward way Ali carried the cute dress that showed off her legs to perfection.

Marie then sat musing. She knew the look Ali had given her. She knew it because it was just the sort of look she gave Ben about twenty times a day. It was the early submission look. It was not giving in; it certainly was not the total bottom-up surrender that she always wallowed in eventually, but the surrender was there in its infancy. It was an early indicator of later success, and Ali had given it to Marie.

Later that day, she lay in bed with Ben. Her bottom was swollen and sore, and she lay carefully on her side while she pushed herself deeper into his arms.

‘How come,’ she asked his chest, ‘at work I get to be in charge of everyone and people are nervous about me, but here I get spanked for every little thing I do wrong?’

Ben opened one lazy eye and continued drawing a circle on her shoulder. ‘What exactly are you asking?’

‘Why am I in charge there and not ever in charge here?’

He opened both eyes now and reached down to squeeze her bottom. ‘Do you want to be? You can’t, but do you want that?’

‘No.’ Her voice squeaked. ‘I just want to know what it’s like. I just want to know how you feel sometimes. I want not always to be the one who gets spanked. I am important.’ Her voice sounded thin in her own ears, and she was starting to kick a little under the covers.

Ben took her face in his hands and made her look at him. It was a forceful move and her heart thudded heavily as she met his eyes.

‘Marie, you are important. And at work you can be as bossy as you like, but at home that’s never going to happen. You don’t even want it, do you?’

Her lips opened a little but no words were waiting there. She arched her back and tried to move her face towards his.

He looked at her for a moment more before he leaned down and kissed her. When he let her go, she pushed her whole body into his. He smiled, put her under him, and entered her with a force that made them both gasp.

At work over the next few weeks, Marie took a special interest in Ali. It made perfect sense to give her new charge a little more attention. Ali had a reputation for having a lot of promise and a terrible attitude in equal measure, and Marie compiled a list of complaints and concerns about her. Her tantrums were legendary; Mike and a few others were terrified of her outbursts, and she was known to fly off the handle at the slightest hint of an insult.

After one particularly difficult exchange that left Mike shaking in the hallway, Marie stormed into Ali’s office and demanded to know what had happened, but when Ali started to explain she interrupted.

‘No, Ali, just no. I asked but I am just not interested. This stops and it stops now. If we weren’t at work, I’d recommend you get the spanking of your life. Your behaviour would be unacceptable in a six-year-old. Go and see Mike, and sort it out with him, because if I have to you won’t like it at all.’

And she left. It was only when she reached her office that Marie realised what she had said. She started to go back and apologise but then stopped and sat at her desk instead, waiting for alarm bells to sound, for the police to run in, or whatever happens when someone says something totally unacceptable. Nothing happened. Shaking her head gently, she returned to her work.

On the other side of the building, Ali still sat where she had been when Marie burst in. Many minutes passed, and then in a tiny whisper she told the space where Marie had been, ‘I wish we weren’t at work.’

Time passed. Ali started to spend an inordinate amount of time wandering the corridors near Marie’s office. She tried very hard to remember exactly what it was that Marie had threatened her with, wishing she could have recorded the words to replay at night when she was alone. Every memory became precious – the furious way Marie had opened her door, the way Marie’s eyes had honed in on her, the words she used, but mostly the terrifying, hope-giving threat. She oscillated between being the perfect minion and the most awful harridan because she wanted Marie to be proud of her and furious with her in turn.

Eventually, she persuaded herself that it was all a myth, that Marie had said nothing of the kind to her, because no one had ever spoken to her like that. No one ever would, no one would ever dare. The thought made her furious, and that was how it happened.

A short while after this horrible realisation, Ali burst into Marie’s office with neither warning nor a knock, and plopped down in the chair facing Marie’s desk.

‘I have to talk to you,’ she said.

‘Evidently so.’ Marie responded, then took a moment to survey Ali. Her hair was messy, as if she had run her hands through it. Her shoulders were up, and her large eyes were filled with unshed tears.

‘Mike is a prick. Do you know what he did? The bloody idiot –’

Marie raised a hand. ‘Stop talking.’ She spoke as if Ali were a young child, her voice heavy and even. ‘I want you to think through what you want to say to me before you say another word. I am not going to sit here and listen to a tantrum. If you really want to risk it, then go ahead, but you won’t like the consequences.’

Ali glared, to no effect since Marie had already turned away to continue her work. So she kicked the floor a couple of times, the edge of her shoe catching on the chair leg. She looked at the door, opened her mouth three times, then sat on her hands. Her breathing steadied.

Minutes passed.

‘Yesterday,’ she started, and Marie turned and to look, ‘Mike came to see me and told me that he had given the Stirwick report to Charles. I really wanted that project and I’ve been here for ages more than Charles. I have more experience than him, and I am better at my job than him. It’s just jobs for the bloody boys, isn’t it?’

‘Did you do anything about this feeling you have?’ Marie asked quietly.

‘Yes, I bloody well did. I went to Mike, and Charles was there of course, because they are bosom buddies now, and told him what a jerk he was, Mike that is. And I told Charles that he can sod off too.’

Marie put her head on one side as Ali spoke. She took in every word of Ali’s tirade, and for the first time in her six years of knowing him, she pitied Mike.

‘Ali, you need to stop talking now. Mike asked me about the Stirwick project and I suggested Charles should do it. I could explain the reasoning to you, but, quite frankly, I don’t want to. Your behaviour today has been unprofessional and histrionic. Leave my office now, and we will talk about this when I have had a chance to think about how best to deal with it. But I think we both know what you deserve, don’t we?’

She turned away from Ali in cold dismissal.

After thirty long seconds, Ali left. She walked to the loo, locked herself in a cubicle and cried. ‘Stupid, stupid cow,’ she hissed, and tried with all her self-deception skills to pretend she was talking about Marie.

* * *

That night was the monthly session where the girls from several departments would meet and have a few drinks. It often ended up being quite a raucous affair for those girls that wanted it to be.

Ali was there and on fine form. She cracked jokes, and responded with shrieks of delight when Marie joined the party, which Marie did her best to ignore.Wine flowed, a couple of cocktails were quaffed, the conversation got louder, and everyone forgot about work. It may have been the drink, or the atmosphere, or even a desire to push Marie’s buttons, but a couple of times when Ali sat down she shoved the table and almost sent glasses and bottles flying.

Each time she did it, the girls all flew to save their drinks and their outfits, and annoyance with her grew rapidly.

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Mel snapped, ‘just watch what you’re doing.’

‘I can’t, I have a table leg, look!’ Ali pointed and gently rattled the table. ‘You can’t do anything else with a little skirt and a table leg. You can all bugger off.’ She laughed and toasted them by draining half a glass of red wine.

Marie waited until the next violent shake, and said in as stern a voice as she could manage, ‘Ali, I swear if you do that again I shall spank you.’

The whole table broke up into giggles, except for Ali. She blushed furiously but her half-laugh provided enough cover for the group not to notice. Marie, thrilled by the effect her words had had and keen to take further ground, desperately tried to decide what Ben would say next.

She followed her remark with what she hoped was a meaningful glance and a single, bright-red nail pointed at Ali’s nose. ‘Next time. I mean it.’ With a smile that could have meant anything, she then turned from Ali and asked the girl to her left just what it is about Radley bags that make them so addictive.

‘Why on earth did I need to think of Ben?’ Marie inwardly grumbled. ‘I can do this myself. If I were at work, I would not even think of asking him anything. I have to get a grip. I need my desk and my work head.’

Neither girl dared look at the other for several minutes. Marie felt uncertain that she could carry off her new game, and did not dare to check her progress. Ali was blushing, trying not to knock the table, and fighting such conflicted feelings that she felt on the edge of panic, which she covered with a smile so wide she thought her face would crack.

Marie was somewhat surprised when Ali accepted her offer of a lift home, but it gave Marie a clear indication that she could carry on with her plan. While driving, Marie swore quietly to herself and wished she could ring Ben to find out what to do.

It is all very well knowing what the man should do to make you feel terribly submissive, she thought, but how scary it is to do it. What if she just tells me to go away?

When she was at work, it was so easy to be in charge. She knew how to reduce anyone to a little piece of himself, and then build him back up to be confident and capable. But once in a home environment, she felt like a little girl playing with toys.

She listened to Ali’s pitter pat of chatter as they wove down dark lanes, and knew that Ali was feeling the quirk of submission. Marie recognised the signs of a girl who did not dare let there be silence for fear what might happen in it. It was just how she was with Ben in their early months together. Orange light rose and fell on Ali’s face as they drove out of town, and Marie enjoyed the way Ali’s lipstick looked almost black in the light.

She knew the way and drove the tiny one-track lane to Ali’s house without instructions. Marie parked and waited only a moment before she turned off the engine, and a moment of silence found its way into the car.

‘I want you to come in,’ Ali blurted.

Marie smiled, and hoped her heart did not sound as loud to Ali as it did to her. ‘Well, I shall then,’ she said, feeling, for reasons she did not quite understand, like the fox in a fairy story.

* * *

Marie leaned back on the sofa and crossed her legs, and was glad she had worn stockings. Ben preferred them, of course, but since she was on her own she had considered not bothering. Ali sat by her feet and had gathered up the courage to gently stroke her ankle, fingertips rolling up and down her ankle, a timid touch, a preamble.

‘I’m sorry about today.’

Marie shifted a little in her seat. ‘Ali, I like you so much, but you were awful. You really were. I don’t understand why you lose control like that. It’s as if you have everything going for you, but you just decide to throw it away.’

Ali sat still, her finger resting on the buckle of Marie’s high-heeled shoe.

‘All I wanted to do today was spank you, Ali, and that’s why I sent you away. I wanted to spank you and then I wanted to kiss you, both of which are not really things I should do at work.’ She smiled weakly, her heart pounding.

‘I wish you would.’

She swallowed dryness and surged on. ‘The thing is, I am in love, and you know Ben. He is quite –’ her eyes searched the ceiling for a word ‘– assertive, and there is nothing I don’t share with him, nothing at all.’ She let the moment rest. Somewhere the house creaked, as though approving her confession.

Ali nodded slowly, looking only at the shoe before her. ‘I like Ben. I like him a lot. He spoke to me at the Christmas party, and lots of us have crushes on him. I do, I guess. He’s a bit scary though. Except I think I like that.’ The final part was a whisper too quiet to be heard unless by ears that wished to hear it. ‘But you,’ she continued, ‘you can be scary too. When you are like you are at work, I feel better about myself. I feel safe. Well, not today. I felt crappy about today, and I still do.’