She will learn...

[Kalmoon]

Karen was hopeless. She had only been working at the office a week and already she made more mistakes in administration than any of the other staff had ever made in their entire careers. Miss Hazelmere was all for sacking the girl but paternal old Barrington wouldn’t hear of it. All he would say on the matter was, “she will learn.”

All very well for him to say, but it wasn’t him who had to phone 17 customers to explain variously why they had been sent the wrong invoices, received wrong packages and in some cases hadn’t received anything at all.

She will learn, was that it? So much for ‘you never had it so good,’ it was all very well for the Prime Minister to say that but with record employment girls like Karen were stepping in and out of jobs at will. In 1958: sack them and they didn’t care; sack them and they were damn hard to replace.

Susan muttered a few choice words and wondered if the old man was finally going soft.

Karen Temple also had a habit of going early for lunch and coming back at least 15 minutes late. Barrington was usually in a meeting and never saw this or pretended not to. Hazelmere had to bite her tongue. This was going to be a classic case of choosing her battles.

“Do you think old Barrington will let me go early tonight?” Karen asked from her desk opposite. She wasn’t even paying attention to her senior co-worker but currently sat fixed on her nails with a small metal file. She may have been a natural blonde but the ashen-white beehive definitely had some help from the bottle, and hadn’t been cheap by the looks of it. It was definitely a salon job.

Susan gaped at Karen incredulously; the girl had absolutely no shame. “No, I don’t think he will let you go home early,” she snapped.

Karen rolled her eyes and made a sullen pout with her full lips.

All lips and hips that girl, Susan thought and shook her head. Blondes were all the rage it seemed, the Marilyn Monroe look was definitely in. With a hint of introspection the routine chestnut-headed Susan wondered if she were jealous.

That train of thought was rudely interrupted. “What do you think he would do about it if I did go?” Karen asked without breaking off from her beauty routine.

Susan glared. Not some many years back a certain rookie brat, not a million miles from where Karen was sitting got her panties warmed by one Gerald Barrington esquire for far less cheek. Had she learned? Not quite, a second session had finished with a threat to take her knickers down if she didn’t ‘buck her ideas up.’

After one monumental screw-up she had faced the choice of the sack or a very sound spanking on the bare bottom. She might easily have resigned and found another job, but she had stuck to it and taken the consequences, as ***ful and embarrassing as they had been. More than once she had had to contend with a red face and a very red bottom; she had learned alright.

“Why don’t you go and ask him?” Susan said icily, half hoping that she would.

Karen mouthed the words back in muttered mockery and sneered before returning to her make-up and nails touch up.

Susan was beginning to wonder if her irritation with the girl was turning into out and out loathing.

*

It was a few days later when Gerald Barrington raised his voice to summon Susan into his office.

The senior girl gulped and felt her bottom clench. She hadn’t been spanked in almost a year, but the tone was unmistakable.

Barrington’s face was like a brooding sky before a storm and Susan licked her lips nervously as she waited for him to speak.

“The Jamison order…” he began.

Jamison & Sons were their biggest clients, Susan braced herself.

“You checked the invoice before we sent it?” Barrington said darkly.

Susan tried to think. Of course she had, “Yes Sir,” she ventured hesitantly.

“And it went?” her boss continued.

Susan cast her gaze around looking for a memory or an answer before finding it. “I put it in Karen’s in-tray, for the post I mean. It was checked a sealed.”

Barrington relaxed a touch. “Old man Jamison called while I was out. He is going to call back. That usually means a problem and I know the orders are good; we talked them over a golf game not two days ago.”

“Can I check?” Susan sounded almost meek. Please don’t let Karen have screwed up, she prayed.

“I think you had better,” Barrington growled.

Susan turned an about face and hurried out to Karen’s desk. As usual her in-tray was full and Susan hefted a pile of envelopes and sifted through them. The invoice was still there.

It was a long walk back to Barrington’s office carrying the envelope and she wondered if she would get sent to the corner again. She would die if Karen saw her compromised like that.

Barrington sighed. “I suppose you are going to blame Karen again,” he said.

“No Sir,” Susan groaned, “It’s my fault.”

Barrington eyed her sternly. “I will deal with you later.”

“Yes Sir,” Susan was almost relieved. Later meant after office hours and by then Karen would have been long gone.

She hadn’t gone two paces when Barrington said in a thoughtful voice, “Send Karen in when she gets back… where is she anyway?”

“Lunch Sir,” Susan answered in a neutral voice.

“Lunch, it is almost two,” he said in surprise, “Did she leave late?”

“N-no,” Susan said, hoping she didn’t sound like she was telling tales again.

“Hmm,” he said, “Send her when she gets back.”

“Sir,” Susan acknowledged. Fat chance anything would come of it.

*

“You wanted to see me Mr Barrington,” Karen said girlishly and fluttered her eyelashes.

Barrington looked up and smiled. “Miss Temple, yes, come in and close the door.” He looked at his watch. “Good lunch was it?”

Karen blushed and shifted uneasily on the spot in front of his desk. “Yes I…” she finished with a nod.

“I noticed the other day you had your coat on a good five minutes before home time.” He said casually, “You very efficiently went on the dot of five.”

Karen pouted and avoided his gaze.

“Miss Hazelmere was still here at 5.30 I noticed,” he continued.

Karen shrugged and now certain that was not her problem finally met his eyes.

“You hadn’t cleared your in-tray I understand, not even the post, a simple enough task to attend to on your wait out, I would have thought.” He smiled again as if awaiting a perfectly plausible explanation.

“Mr Barrington I don’t see…” she countered.

Barrington held up his hand to bat her words away. “Let’s not waste each other’s time with… recriminations. You are a bright girl, you understand my point. Miss Temple, you have a bright future here, I am certain of it. You just need to apply yourself. I am certain you will learn.”

“Thank you Mr Barrington,” Karen said shyly.

“Now I don’t think you have shown Miss Hazelmere respect, after all she is the senior girl,” he smiled.

Karen didn’t reply.

“So here is what we are going to do. I am going to give you three chances, not bad eh? But I am going to leave those chances in the hands of Miss Hazelmere,” Barrington smiled magnanimously.

“Chances, Mr Barrington?” Karen didn’t like the sound of this.

“Yes, the next time you forget to post a simple letter for instance, or come back late from lunch… that kind of thing, and Miss Hazelmere thinks it warrants bringing to my attention then you will get a warning.” He explained.

Karen frowned. She really didn’t like the sound of this.

“The first time: we will have a little chat, like this one,” Barrington positively beamed at her. “After that I will have Miss Hazelmere write you a memo outlining your shortcomings. If we have any more… disrespectful behaviour then you will face disciplinary action.”

“You said I would have three chances?” Karen blurted.

“Oh yes. You see an adverse report will affect your pay review, but we can avoid that with an unofficial sanction of some kind. The latter, not being on your record, will also protect you from dismissal proceedings for repeated offences, so a double advantage really.” Barrington fixed her with a steely gaze and leaned forward.

Karen felt the heat rise and dipped her head. So she had been caught out sneaking back from lunch, she would be more careful, message received.

“Don’t worry about it Miss Temple, you will learn,” he said and indicated the door with a paternal wave of his hand.

*

Susan Hazelmere stood in front of Barrington and chewed her lower lip nervously. The butterflies in her tummy were working overtime, unlike the rest of her colleagues, leaving them both alone in the office.

“You may leave the pullover on, just remove your skirt and so forth,” Barrington coughed.

“Yes Sir,” Susan said shyly as she blushed furiously.

“I am waiting for a call so once you are ready you can stand in the corner,” he said sharply.

Susan swallowed hard and shot a look at the exterior door that led to the corridor. She prayed the cleaners would not come too soon. There were two doors to his office; one leading to the outer office, the other straight into the hall. She took a deep breath and reached back to first unbutton and then unzip her skirt before wriggling out of it.

Barrington had stood up and was gazing out of his window with a cigarette; a gentlemanly gesture that she appreciated. It didn’t make stepping out of her panties any easier, which she stepped out of only after a deep sigh.

As ever it was strange standing in her boss’s office in just her stocking tops and woollen top and her hands cupped her sex protectively. For a long second she forgot what to do and just all but hopped from one foot to the other.

Then taking a deep breath she turned to the corner and parked herself there, nose to the seam of the wall. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she resisted the temptation to cover bottom with them and instead grasped them in the small of her back.

By some instinct Barrington turned. Seeing that Susan was ready he ran his eye down her exposed curves. Full and pert, he decided and availed himself of a small smile. Well worth the spanking and much deserved, he told himself. Down boy, this is business, he self-chided.

*

Susan felt silly and embarrassed as she stood in the corner like an errant child. She couldn’t decide if it was more humiliating having a man looking at her bare bottom from his desk or ignoring her while he had a business conversation. Besides there was a draft and the goose bumps peppered her thighs and bottom.

Always at the back of her mind was that somebody would come into the outer office and hear something, the cleaners for sure. They might even just walk in to empty the waste basket. Then there was Karen, she might have forgotten something.

To chivvy Mr Barrington along a bit she rocked back and forth a little to emphasis her bottom. Not a thought out or even conscious strategy, just a native instinct of girl with a deep need for a good sound spanking.

Finally the phone call ended and she heard him fiddle with papers and then put something away in a draw. Or maybe get something out, her eyes widened as she remembered what he kept there.

“Miss Hazelmere, come here,” his deep warm voice intoned.

As she turned she saw what she had ***ed, the foot long Kent suit brush in his hand, which he patted menacingly onto his left palm. Big hands, she gulped inwardly, pity he isn’t going to use them.

Barrington sat in the armless chair on her side of the desk and patted his knee.

Cupping her sex she took a deep breath and reluctantly tottered forward until she was standing next to his thighs. He didn’t wait and pulled her across his lap in one easy motion so that her bare bottom was uppermost and exposed to his gaze.

“You knew the girl needed watching, you told me about it. You were sulking weren’t you, hoping she would make a mistake to prove me wrong?” he said in a dark gruff voice.

It was true and Susan felt her body surrender. “Yes Sir,” she whispered.

Barrington ran the back of the wooden brush over her bare bottom and patted it twice so that heavy slow ripples moved across her skin. Susan gave a little gasp.

“You silly girl,” he chided her and patted her bottom more firmly with the brush.

Then they were off.

The hearty thwack cut through to Karen’s soul leaving a fiery oval pact across both bottom cheeks. She gasped as her eyes started in her head. There was no time to dwell however and the second and third spanks came almost on top of each other.

Even allowing for the occasional pause in the action when Mr Barrington would growl “do you feel that girl,” or “I hope you are learning,” there must have been upwards of 30 spanks in the first minute leaving Susan panting like a dog and her bottom singing like a scolding kettle.

Then came a longer pause while Susan regained her breath and Barrington studied the dull red sheen staining his employee’s bare bottom. He noticed tightly packed gooseflesh where the spanked skin was shocked and even as he watched the reddened area was raised a little to form a gentle pad of raised flesh in two distinct bands.

The burn in her bottom was not enough to overtake her embarrassment and Susan’s face burned almost as steadily as the other end.

“I hope this is a lesson to you girl,” he said sharply, announcing a resumption of the spanking.

Susan managed a strangled “yes Sir,” before she yelped in response to another two minute onslaught.

Maybe a 100 spanks in Susan started to cry. The combination of sting over burn over ache left her convinced she would never sit down again; indeed she was beginning to wonder if he would ever stop spanking her.

“Now, now,” he said in a kindly voice, “It is not as bad as all that is it?”

Between tears Susan sucked down great breaths giving the impression that she was sobbing hard. He was right, it wasn’t that bad. Although her bottom felt tight as if it might burst lava bomb

“No Sir, I am sorry,” she sniffed, “Such as fuss. I don’t mean to be a cry-baby.”

“If you want to cry off, we will call it quits,” he told her, adding in a warning tone, “This time.”

She didn’t like the implication, besides she was never one to give up on a challenge. “No Sir, sorry Sir.”

“Well you have had a break, let’s call that half way, shall we?” he said brightly and resumed the spanking.

Susan yelled and then spent the next two minutes grunting and groaning as her face danced through a series of comic contortions.

When Barrington stopped for his final pause to scold her, the dam finally broke and this time her sobbing was heartfelt.

“There, there, almost done,” he said and gave her the last minute or two of her spanking.

This time her shouts and wails were louder even than the thwack-crack of wood on her bare bottom as the spanking reached its conclusion.

“Lesson learned?” Barrington asked as he put the brush down on his desk.

Susan managed a nod as she sagged into him for a good cry. She almost loved this part. Instead of hating him, she wanted to worship him for his mercy and had a sudden urge to kiss his hand.

“Up you get then,” he chuckled and patted her on the back. “You can go back and stand in the corner while you pull yourself together,” he said.

Susan sniffed and nodded as she obeyed. Her bottom felt like two molten cannonballs and she cupped them as she tried to shake out the burn.

Barrington felt the old trouser snake stiffen as he eyed up the strawberry globes. “No rubbing now,” he told her, “Hands on head.”

Susan obeyed, although she had to do a little shimmy until the sting eased back to barely bearable.

“When you have had time to consider your sins, say in about 20 minutes,” he said, “I want to talk to you about Miss Temple.”

“Yes Sir,” Susan sighed.