The members of the executive board took their seats. With one notable exception they were men in their sixties and seventies - the kind of men who are usually found at the top levels of a large company. Each one of them was accompanied by a young, (and extremely pretty,) personal assistant. The men were smiling with anticipation - these meetings were more entertaining than an outsider would expect. The ladies on the other hand, looked less enthused.
The chairman tapped his gavel on the mahogany slab in front of him. "This meeting is now in session!" he declared.
At seventy-four, Paul Eddington was the most senior member of the board. His white hair and lined face showed his age, but his mind was still sharp and his voice was firm and commanding. "It hasn't been a terribly good quarter, so let's air the bad news first and then discuss what we can do about it. Fowlds, make your report please."
Derek Fowlds was an amiable-looking man in his sixties, grey-haired and slightly overweight. Working in his department was considered one of the better positions in the company for young women. Like all the other executives he was an enthusiastic employer of corporal punishment, but rather than use the company-issue strap he would put a girl over his knee and spank her with his hand. "Nothing like the personal touch!" he liked to joke. While his spankings certainly stung, they were far less brutal than the beatings laid down by hard leather.
Fowlds rose, stepped behind his assistant's chair and pulled it back as she got to her feet. Chelsea was a dark-haired lass of twenty-five, pretty and plump. Fowlds liked his ladies that way - he was an admirer of large, jiggly bottoms. So while the other PA's had to diet constantly to maintain their slim figures, Chelsea was permitted - indeed required - to indulge herself with treats and snacks. She calmly walked to the head of the table to stand beside Eddington.
"Bend over!" he said with a nod.
Chelsea complied, laying herself over the desk and resting her chin on her forearms. The chairman flipped up her short business skirt and pulled down her white lace underwear. "Legs apart."
Chelsea obliged again, spreading her legs so that her generously-proportioned buttocks began to separate. With her feet now a yard apart, her rear entrance was still hidden between her generous globes, but the smooth mound of her pussy was now visible - and captured by the camera behind her. The view was displayed on the widescreen monitor mounted on the wall behind Eddington. With a smile, he reached for the wooden paddle that lay on the table. He carefully took position behind Chelsea, tapping the paddle against her bounteous behind to check his range.
"Has Human Resources met its diversity hiring target?" Eddington asked Fowlds.
"No, mister chairman, I'm afraid we have not." Fowlds looked apologetically at his assistant.
Chelsea clenched her jaw and braced herself.
*WHACK!* The paddle slammed into her buttocks. She gasped as the hard wood bit deep into her soft flesh. "Ah! Thank you sir!"
Her now-reddened bottom continued to bounce and jiggle for a few seconds, providing further amusement to the watching men.
"Can you offer any excuse for this failure? The diversity quotas are a government requirement."
"We can get diversity easily enough. The problem is finding diversity and competence at the same time."
*WHACK!*
"Yeow!" Thank you sir!" The red mark across Chelsea's backside was darker now.
"There are over sixty million people in this country," Eddington lectured. "Surely you must be able to find people of colour with university degrees!"
"Yes, but degrees aren't worth what they used to be," replied Fowlds. "I propose that start our own traineeship program, mentoring potential recruits as they move through university. That way we can steer them in the right direction, and hopefully they'll turn into something useful."
"A good idea," Eddington nodded in approval. "But that doesn't solve the immediate problem."
Chelsea grimaced. She knew what was coming.
*WHACK!* Another hard swat.
"Oooohhhh!" the girl moaned. "Thank you sir!" she said with a sniffle.
"Does anyone have anything to add?" Eddington looked around the room. There were only shakes of the head in response. Everyone knew that the diversity quotas were a millstone around Derek's neck, and they didn't envy him the task of meeting them while maintaining the quality expected by the company.
"Very well." Eddington replaced the paddle and gently pulled up Chelsea's panties. He took her skirt down again, and patted her on the back. "Well done. You may go now."
Chelsea stood up and rubbed at her bottom. Not so bad! She thought. Three was considered "getting off easy" by the PA's. She returned to her seat and Fowlds pushed her chair in as she carefully sat down. He gently kissed her on the cheek and returned to his own seat. After the meeting was done she would be bare-bottomed again, lying over his desk - but this time to be kissed better. Fowlds was a pleasant and considerate man to work under, and age had weakened his libido to the point where he was mostly content with just kissing and fondling her, with the occasional blowjob or very rare coitus. The other PA's had to give full service on a near-daily basis. Both Chelsea and her husband considered her fortunate to have the job she did.
The next few Board members made their reports. It was predictably bad news, resulting in predictable punishments for the perfect posteriors of the pretty PA's. One after another they had to bend over the table and present themselves for the paddle. Eddington delivered their swats with a professional attitude, lecturing their superiors as he did so.
"Now then, let us hear from the International Sales division. Miss Rutherford, please make your report."
Amelia Rutherford was the only female member of the executive board. Attaining her position had been a gruelling task - she had not only had to far outshine her male competitors, but she had had to do so while being spanked on a regular basis. She had to work with men who had seen her bent double and spread-legged at least a couple of times a week - and they were always reminding her about it. But she had managed to overcome this disadvantage.
Being publicly strapped since of the age of thirteen, (and enduring the constant taunts from her classmates,) had hardened her to the brutal and unfair treatment laid down to pretty girls. Being possessed of a keen intellect, she soon realised that girls who were ashamed of their public spankings were easy targets for teasing and bullying - those who shrugged it off with no trace of shame didn't attract the same attention. So she had learned to happily acknowledge her punishments. She matter-of-factly answered all of their questions about what had been done to her, without showing any embarrassment or shyness.
"Yes, I got a dozen for littering," she would tell an eager boy. "Then he stacked another dozen for disorderly conduct. I asked him to give me a discount instead of a raincheck, so I got eighteen. He flogged my ass good and hard!"
This stoic acceptance of the CPA had not only served to reduce the punishments delivered to her backside thanks to the discounting system, but had ultimately lessened the excitement of her fellow students (and later, co-workers.) Realising this, she had sent out a company email every time she was ordered to bend over in public so that the men she worked with could scan the spanking websites for footage if they wished. At first they had been delighted, smilingly asking her for the details - but when she replied with casual ease, graphically describing everything that had been done to her, (both on the street and down at the station,) they became bored and moved on. Her refusal to be ashamed took the fun out of it, and they eventually lost interest, focussing instead on young ladies who still felt embarrassment about their public punishments. Her staunch refusal to sleep with her colleagues was an even greater source of frustration for them. She knew that if she took even one of them to her bed she would forever be labelled as "the office slut." She was beautiful, desirable - but untouchable. So while her colleagues got to see her delightfully sculpted bottom strapped on occasion, none of them enjoyed the pleasure of being balls-deep inside her love-tunnel. That was a treat she gave to working-class men who she picked up in bars. Wearing sluttier clothes and less-skilfully applied makeup, she looked nothing like the cool businesswoman that she really was - and as such, she had more freedom. Rough sex, threesomes, spankings and even the occasional train-ride were all available whenever she wanted.
Amelia stood with deliberate slowness. She wore a business shirt and jacket, but only a miniskirt protected her modesty. Unlike the other board members she didn't have the luxury of having a PA take swats for her - she had to bend over and be punished herself. As with all things under the CPA this was taken for granted. Women got spanked, men didn't. Having grown up under this one-sided system, Amelia didn't bother to question it. Even a woman who had achieved an executive position such as she had was not above corporal punishment. Since she had become a board member, only the chairman could paddle her ass, and he needed a good reason for doing so. Unfortunately he would have that reason today.
Amelia walked to the head of the table and turned to face her fellow board members. She unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Beneath it she wore only an expensively tailored G-string that barely covered the slit on her pubic mound, clinging tightly to the cleft between her lips. She peeled it down slowly to mid-thigh, exposing the delicious little pussy that every man in the company lusted after - but none had been allowed to enjoy. She stepped out of her skirt, spreading her legs wide before bending over the table. Placing her forearms flat, she arched her back and pushed her bottom out, her well-toned buttocks separating to show the enticing openings between them. Her pussy was a neat little slit, her rear entrance a tiny ring that had been carefully bleached to be nearly the same colour as the skin around it. All the men she took to her bed had been eager to explore her with their tongues - she was picture-perfect and utterly desirable. Her blue eyes were wide and calm as she faced the board - while their eyes were narrowed with frustrated desire, flicking between her face and the wide-screen view of her rear end. All of them had enjoyed strapping her in her early years at the company, but now she was an executive they couldn't touch her. Naturally this made them keen to see her get the paddle at board meetings, and she knew that her beautiful behind was going to get soundly spanked as she made her report.
The paddle tapped her firm little bottom. "Have you met your quarterly target Miss Rutherford?" Eddington asked.
"No sir. Our European sales are down by five percent." She braced herself.
*WHACK!* The hard wooden paddle smacked into her adorable ass. She blinked and her lips twisted briefly, but she kept in position, never taking her eyes off her smirking colleagues. "Thank you sir!"
"Can you offer any reason for this failure?"
"The post-pandemic interest rate rises and economic recession have impacted disposable income. Public spending is down by over ten percent." Amelia replied. "In light of that fact, I submit that my department has actually performed above market levels."
She knew that this argument would hold no weight, and was unsurprised when the paddle was swung again.
*WHACK!*
"Thank you, sir!" Amelia said promptly. Her hands remained flat on the table, and she pushed her rear end back into position, ensuring that she was properly presented for punishment. Few around the table could look her in the eye - most were gazing at the widescreen display that showed the view of her beautiful behind.
"The target was for a two percent increase." Eddington lectured, completely ignoring her reasonable explanation. "Your advertising budget was raised in accordance, but sales went down." He tapped the paddle against her bottom several times, not hard, but with enough speed to make it sting. "We expect our executives to meet their goals, Miss Rutherford."
"Yes sir. I have not performed to standard." Amelia confessed. "Please give me another!"
*WHACK!*
"Thank you, sir." She cast her eyes around the table. The PA's were mostly looking down, not wanting to be reminded about how they had had to take the same punishment, but a few were smiling openly and clearly enjoying the sight of the beautiful and powerful Amelia having to bend over and be spanked like a naughty schoolgirl. The other Board members were focussed on the screen above her head, delighting in the view of her perfect pussy and reddened rump. The only exception was Nigel Hawthorne - a decidedly cruel man who had bent her over his desk for "a good thrashing" many times. Indeed, he was partly responsible for her stellar career. The desire to get away from him had inspired her to work harder and better than she ever thought she could. His eyes were locked on hers - and she refused to look away. Never show weakness! was her motto. She had been his plaything for several months before getting a promotion to a different department - and thanks to her natural brilliance and determination she was out of his reach entirely after a few years. It was a sore point with him that she had never wrapped her lips around his cock - choosing to take her beatings instead. It wasn't that she was prudish - she had been providing sexual favours for years to protect her posterior - but he was a nasty and openly chauvinistic man who proudly advertised the power he had over the women beneath him. He simply didn't deserve the pleasure of her body, and she had grimly accepted every spanking he had given her, rather than grant him the pleasure of enjoying her sexually. It had not been easy to maintain her resolve, but now that she was on the Board and untouchable, (by him at least,) she could take pride in the fact that she had not given him what he truly desired.
Hawthorne returned her gaze. She could see his mind working hard behind his wire-rimmed spectacles, and knew that he was concocting a reason to earn her another dose of the paddle.
"You were on the committee that negotiated the post-Brexit trade deal," he said pointedly.
"Yes Mister Hawthorne."
The paddle tapped against her ass again. Eddington knew he would get another turn, and he liked to build the anticipation.
"Did you not assure this boad that our European sales would continue to grow?"
She had indeed made that promise - but that was a year before "The Sniffles" had swept across the globe, leading to a planet-wide panic and a set of truly ridiculous travel and trade restrictions. It was an event she could not have foreseen - one that had affected every branch of the company - but nonetheless, she knew that her sweet ass would pay the price for supposed failure.
"Yes, Mister Hawthorne, I did." Amelia kept her voice steady. "Evidently I was wrong." She kept her eyes on him. She knew what was coming - she had expected this after reviewing the financial reports.
"This is a rather sad state of affairs," Hawthorne said smugly. "Given Miss Rutherford's failure to meet her own targets, I propose that she be given six of the best. Do I have a second?"
Several hands were immediately raised. Any motion that involved spanking a woman was enthusiastically supported, regardless of the facts.
The paddle was rubbing in circles over her bottom. "The motion is passed," Eddington said with obvious pleasure. "Are you ready to receive discipline Miss Rutherford?"
"Yes Sir," Amelia responded. "I need a good spanking!" She kept her eyes on Hawthorne, who was now looking at the close-up view of her rear end.
"Spread your legs wider," he instructed." As a board member, you should set an example to the other employees."
The only employees that her example applied to were the young ladies around the table, and all of them knew what was expected. A girl had to provide a nice view when bending for punishment. Amelia's legs were already wide but she stretched them further, knowing that her delicious little openings would be graphically displayed on the screen behind her. None of the men had enjoyed the pleasure of using her sexually - and now their frustrated desires would be vented on her beautiful bare buttocks.
"I am ready mister chairman. Please give me what I deserve."
Her calm voice did not reveal her true feelings. Despite his age, Eddington could lay down a serious beating when he so desired. Years of experience had honed his technique - even his standard swats were a thing to be feared. But his "best" swats were on another level, with his full weight behind them. Amelia was just grateful that her performance had not been bad enough for Hawthorne to demand she be given a full dozen. She had never taken a dozen of Eddington's "best", and had grave doubts about whether she could do so without breaking down into tears. Six was bad enough...
Eddington carefully placed his paddle against her delicious derriere and shifted his feet. Many years of golf had taught him that footwork was vital when it came to delivering power. Satisfied that he had the range correct, he took a large step backward and raised the paddle high. Amelia gripped the table and braced herself for the inevitable.
Eddington stepped forward while swinging his paddle down. The holes minimised air resistance and allowed for a faster, more painful, hit. But that was not what made the difference for his "best" swats. The fact that he was moving forward, combined with a well-practised swing and wrist action meant that each blow would have the "sweet science" commonly associated with boxing. Body movement generated power that was delivered through the arm and wrist like a whipcrack, resulting in a terrible impact on the targeted tushy.
*WHAM!* All of the PA's winced at the sound - it was impossible to watch a paddling without remembering how it felt. They had all felt Eddington's "best" swats at one time or another.
The paddle slammed into her soft behind and Amelia gasped, her face twisting with the pain that she could not hide. The initial impact was bad enough, but the burn continued to build up for several seconds, lighting her up as though she was on fire. She drew a deep, shuddering breath before speaking the required words.
"One. Thank you, sir."
"Counting off" was an automatic response. Mentally, Amelia was trying to distance herself from the pain in her rear end - and she knew how to do this. Focus on something else - something else that you like to be given to you hard... She had time to engage with her fantasy - Eddington liked to give his paddings slowly. This allowed him to enjoy the view for longer, and increased the anticipation for the recipient.
*WHAM!*
Another swing that would have done credit to a champion cricketer landed on Amelia's small round backside. Beneath her soft feminine curves was well-toned muscle, but even that was getting bruised by the fearsome impact of the paddle. "Mmmph! Two, thank you sir!"
She continued to count, while imagining a very different picture in her head. She would need to be fucked tonight - by more than one man. Attracting lovers was easy - her natural beauty drew men to her. The hard part was finding men who didn't mind sharing her. Simply by rolling up her skirt while dancing in some working-class bar she would have men fighting for her attention - but not many were up to the task of giving her the double-penetration she needed to put this paddling behind her. Amelia wasn't fond of men in general, having been used and abused by so many over the years, but she was very fond of cock. Thick, hard cock, sliding inside her, thrusting eagerly...
*WHAM!*
"Three, thank you sir!"
Amelia's tender tushy was ablaze now - each swing of the paddle hurt a little more - but she had bent for correction countless times and she was still within her comfort zone - (comfort being a relative term under the CPA.) She could take her six without losing her cool. The other board members were mostly enjoying the view on the screen behind her - except for Hawthorne, who looked her in the eyes each time the paddle hit home, then turned his gaze to the screen, smiling as her formerly white bottom turned into interesting shades of red and purple. His obvious pleasure at her predicament didn't disturb her as much as he though however. She was mentally in another place - a place where SHE was the one in control. She was imagining the men who would be eager to enjoy her body - and how many would be crushed by their own insecurity when she told them that she needed two lovers to satisfy her. Her brazen behaviour and casual dismissal of any suitor who didn't meet her requirements put her back on top when it came to dealing with men. The fact that she would be sandwiched between two of them once she had made her choices did not make her feel in any way submissive - she was always in control of these situations. So while at work she still had to "bend and present" now and then, in her personal life she was the one in charge.
But while she loved to be in charge, enjoyed directing men how to use her, there were times when she set herself up for a search. The feeling of meek submissiveness, the forced exposure as she knelt on the table and reached back to spread her cheeks... delicious when she was in the right mood. Even the hose was welcome when she was in that frame of mind. Twelve inches of thick silicone, slowly pushed up her back door, as she moaned and wriggled, invaded to unthinkable depths and helpless under male authority that could do whatever it liked to her. In regular life she was firmly in command - but sometimes she just needed to surrender. She was a woman after all... and despite her confidence and superior intelligence, there were times when she needed to be put in her place - either bent over and bare-bottomed, or else sandwiched between two strong, sweaty men who used her for their pleasure...
Years of taking punishment had conditioned her, and she knew that being strapped or paddled was frequently followed by some form of sexual abuse. Either being taken to the nearest station for an enthusiastic cavity search, or else kneeling in front of her spanker to pleasure him with her mouth. This had started in High School, but continued through her late teen years when the plods had managed to accost her in a secluded location where they could take advantage out of the public view. She had been frequently flogged and fucked in dark alleys and nightclub restrooms by uniformed officers who were well aware of the power they wielded over young women. All of her holes had been used by dozens of men, often while she quietly sobbed from the harsh strapping she had just received. It was common for girls to bend for the standard dozen and then trade sexual favours to "work off" any additional swats rather than put them on her tab. So she learned to play her part and submit graciously. A blowjob or fuck was a few minutes of inconvenience while a strapping or caning was a quarter-hour of hell, followed by several days of terror. Taking more swats or strokes on top of fresh bruises was something that few girls were prepared to face. Any young woman worth looking at was resigned to being strapped and caned on a regular basis - but at least three days were needed between punishments so that their bruised behinds could recover somewhat.
*WHAM!*
"Ahhh... Four, thank you sir!" She kept her voice steady. She could feel her body responding to the fantasy in her head, her pussy growing moist as she imagined what would be done to her tonight. A couple hours of solid fucking - after she had made them lick both her pussy and asshole at the same time. Men had to earn the right to enter her body. But if they met her standards and kept to her rules, the rewards were outstanding. There were few acts that she would not agree to when showed the proper respect and given the pleasure she craved.
The paddle tapped her bottom, making her flinch. "I hope this is getting through to you, Miss Rutherford."
"Yes... sir." She fought to keep her voice steady. "It's teaching me a good lesson... sir!"
*WHAM!*
"Five, thank you sir!" The pain was bad now, but with only one swat to go she knew that she could take it.
Eddington patted her ass with the paddle. "Ask for it," he instructed.
Amelia knew what was expected. "Please give me your best, hardest swat sir! My naughty little bottom deserves it!"
She pushed her ass toward him again and arched her back so that she offered him the best possible target. Naturally this pulled her buttocks tight, and they separated further to give an even better view of the special places between them. She gritted her teeth as Eddington stepped back.
Here it comes... She looked Hawthorne in the eye and winked. She knew he was disappointed at not being able to swing the paddle himself.
*WHAM!*
The final blow of her punishment landed squarely across her battered bum, sending fresh waves of pain through her slim body. Her face twisted in a grimace and it took a few seconds of heavy breathing to regain her composure. She didn't take her eyes off Hawthorne however.
"Six... thank you... sir!" she managed to say. The fire in her backside continued to burn - a testament to Eddington's skill with the paddle. God, I'm going to need a good fucking tonight! She imagined herself wide-spread and moaning with pleasure as she was vigorously pounded by whichever men had been lucky enough to meet her standards. Her jaw clenched - she needed a few seconds to compose herself. Waving her hips gently from side to side as a distraction for the delighted men around the table, she drew a deep breath and let it out in a long, slow moan.
"Aahhhh..." Her tone was not one of pain, but rather the deep sigh of a woman well-satisfied. "Mmmmm..." She grinned at Hawthorne, still gently wagging her perfect, though now badly bruised, ass for the benefit of the camera behind her. "That sure hit the spot sir!" Amelia declared, forcing herself to sound enthusiastic. "You gave it to me good!" She could feel the wetness that now glistened between her lower lips, and knew that her display would have all the men hard. Knowing that none of the sexist bastards who served on the Board would ever enjoy the pleasure of using her sweet young body in the way that they craved gave her a small measure of satisfaction. If one of them had only been considerate, she would have happily surrendered to his desires in exchange for the mentorship that would have made her rise to executive even faster. You don't know what you missed out on! she thought.
Eddington paused to admire his handiwork. He prided himself on accuracy, and Amelia's beautiful behind had a well-defined target zone that was only slightly wider than his paddle. Every swat had hit home, landing directly on the centre of her small round globes. He gently rubbed the paddle over her bruises. "Does anyone have any further questions?"
The board members were in no hurry to respond. They rarely got to see Amelia spanked these days, and were in no hurry to end the delightful display in front of them. But as Eddington looked from one to the other, they shook their heads.
"Very well. You may stand Miss Rutherford."
Amelia remained in place for a couple of seconds. Rising too quickly would be an admission that her paddling had hurt. She breathed deeply and slowly resumed the vertical. "Thank you mister Eddington, that was an excellent paddling." (It certainly had been - she would be sore for several days.) I am grateful for my correction. I will endeavour to do better in the next quarter." She turned to face Hawthorne. "And thank you, Mister Hawthorne for proposing it."
"Always happy to oblige, my dear!" he replied with a smirk.
It was galling to have thank him, but failing to do so would spoil her performance. Pretending to be grateful helped maintain the illusion that she was unperturbed by the ordeal. In truth, she was suffering badly. She could only hope this meeting didn't take much longer - she was in desperate need of some lotion and time to herself. Reaching down to her thighs, Amelia carefully pulled her G-string back into place. This did little to protect her modesty since it was nearly transparent and clung to her like a second skin. The delicious slit down the middle of her smooth mound stood out plainly, aided by the wetness that helped the silk fabric stick to every contour of her special place. She turned her back on her fellow Board members and carefully bent over to pick up her discarded skirt - giving them all a first-hand view of her battered behind and the tantalisingly pale asshole that her G-string failed to conceal. She stepped first one leg into her skirt, then the other, before buttoning it around her waist and walking back to her seat as though nothing had happened. Before sitting down again she made eye contact with Hawthorne once more - forcing a smile and a sneer of contempt. You didn't break me, and you never will!
Hawthorne was grinning smugly, but she could tell he was disappointed. He liked his victims to be humiliated - and that was a pleasure she had never given him. She cooly resumed her seat. The men had had their fun - and she was safe for the next three months. Enough time to (hopefully) get her figures up and deny them the pleasure of seeing her paddled again.
Amelia sat carefully on her chair. To distract herself from the pain she continued her fantasy. Two men inside her... It was best when they synchronised, both cocks driving into her at once. In... out... in... out... Being fucked, used - and fulfilled. There was a warmth in her loins now, and she mentally added "masturbation" to her planned session of self-care.
"Mister Hawthorne," Eddington turned his attention to Nigel. "Are you ready to make your report?"
Indeed." Hawthorne nodded to his PA. She slowly rose, her face white with obvious dread. Evidently she knew she was in for a hard time. With raven-black hair and large green eyes, Tamara was the only woman present whose beauty rivalled Amelia's. Her figure was slim, her bust small and firm, her features delicate and elfin. Her voice was a soft Irish lilt, music to the ears. She was a sweet-natured girl who deserved far better than to be Hawthorne's PA. Unfortunately for her, his seniority allowed him to get first choice of new assistants and her stunning appearance had doomed her. Slowly and tentatively she made her way to the end of the table and bent over, her eyes wide and her body trembling.
When Eddington pulled up her skirt the reason for her terrified appearance became obvious. Tamara wore only the smallest of G-strings, leaving every inch of her flesh on display. Her perfectly-sculpted white bottom displayed the bruises of a police strapping, evidently administered that morning. Worse yet, it had been done in the cruellest possible manner, with each swat landing across the exact centre of her delectable derriere. The result was a black and purple stripe barely wider that the strap itself, showing that her punisher had been a true marksman who hit with unrelenting force and the utmost precision. The other women fidgeted uncomfortably in their seats, each knowing first-hand what Tamara had endured. And now to receive the paddle on top of it! The next few minutes would be sheer hell for the luckless lass.
Eddington paused, taken aback by the sight in front of him. "Are you sure you wish to proceed Mister Hawthorne? You could nominate one of your other subordinates to receive discipline."
Hawthorne shrugged with callous dismissal of Tamara's plight. "She knew we had a meeting today, she should have stayed out of trouble!" he declared. "I'm not responsible for her poor decisions!"
In actual fact it had not been a poor decision that had earned Tamara her strapping, merely a slip of the tongue. On disembarking from her train that morning she had been accosted by a plod who waved her in the direction of a tent which had (somewhat incongruously,) been erected on the platform. "This way ma'am. Random search."
Tamara had been shocked. To be searched HERE? In the middle of the morning rush hour? With only a thin fabric barrier blocking the view from other commuters? Her mouth fell open in surprise, and the words "You can't do that!" had come out of their own accord.
The plod had grinned with delight. "Non-compliance!" he said with relish. "Bend and present!"
And so it was that Tamara received one of the most painful strappings she had ever endured. But the ordeal had not ended when the last agonising swat fell on her bare behind. The weeping woman had been pushed into the tent and ordered to strip. Holding her battered buttocks apart for a lengthy cavity search had taken all her willpower, with only the threat of another dose giving her the incentive to overcome the pain of squeezing her fresh bruises. After digging inside her for several minutes the cop had threatened to take her down to the station to be given the hose. Terrified of being late to work, and thus getting another strapping from the sadistic Hawthorne, she had offered him a blowjob. To her dismay he had refused. "Full service or no deal!" was his response.
So Tamara had bent over the search table and spread her legs once more. He took her from behind, his hips slamming into her throbbing rear end. Her moans and sobs were clearly audible to the delighted passers-by, and after finally being permitted to dress and leave she had done a "walk of shame" from the platform, accompanied by the hoots, catcalls and laughter of those who had listened in on the action. It had been a truly dreadful start to her day - and things were only going to get worse...
Eddington chewed his lip. As chairman, he could override Hawthorne and insist on fetching another girl to take Tamara's place, but such a thing was considered poor etiquette in the business world. "Very well," he sighed, and pulled down the tiny scrap of fabric that barely covered Tamara's pubic mound. She was a delight to behold, perfect lips that were tightly sealed and a delicious looking pale pink rosebud. Even the enlarged view on the screen failed to show a single flaw or blemish on her, save for the bruise across her backside.
Eddington took up the paddle once more, and Tamara flinched as he tapped it against her firm little cheeks. "So then Mister Hawthorne," the chairman queried, "Has the appliance division met this quarter's target?"
"No, it has not." Hawthorne's answer
Eddington drew back his arm and swung the paddle sharply into Tamara's tender tushy. It was far from his best effort, but the smack of the paddle was followed by a shriek of agony from the young lady on the table.
*WHACK!*
"YEEEEAAAAHHHHGGGG!" she howled, jumping up and standing straight as she rubbed furiously at her bottom. She was now presenting the board with a full-frontal view of her perfect pussy. Tears were flowing from her beautiful eyes and her lovely face was contorted with pain. "Waahh!" she bawled, while looking imploringly at Hawthorne. His response was typically dismissive. "Back down!" he ordered curtly.
"Wah - wah - haa!" the chastised damsel sobbed as she forced herself to assume the position once more. She buried her face in her forearms and her delicate hands clenched into fists. Her body heaved as she gasped for breath, and shook from the force of her sobs. "Thank, (sob) y-you, s-sir!" she managed to squeak out.
By rights, her failure to stay bent over and rubbing herself without permission should have earned Tamara another couple of swats, but Eddington chose not to press the issue. "Can you offer any excuse for this?" he asked Hawthorne sternly.
"Well, we are in a recession," Hawthorne replied, shamelessly offering the same explanation the he had not accepted from Amelia.
*WHACK!* The PA's looked in horror as Tamara's ass received another solid hit.
"Waaaahhh!" she howled, rising partly off the table. Her fists drummed on the polished wood as she fought to avoid rubbing herself again."THa... th... thank you, si-ir!"She dropped back down and bit her hand to distract herself from the fire in her rear end. Some of the other assistants were shedding silent tears of sympathy. All knew just how bad it was to get paddled over existing bruises. Even Amelia was unsettled by what she was witnessing.
"And do you have a plan to rectify the situation?" demanded Eddington.
"If we reject half our warranty claims we could increase profits by two percent," was the startlingly bland answer.
"Oh, for heaven's sake Hawthorne!" Eddington was clearly angry now. "Claw back two percent by abandoning our customer service and damaging our brand in the process? Have you lost your mind?"
*WHACK!* He swung the paddle again, but everyone could see that his heart wasn't in it. Nonetheless, Tammy shrieked in pain, and stood again to rub furiously at her badly bruised behind, while bawling loudly. Eddington did not remonstrate her for breaking position. There was a disapproving scowl on his face - not for Tamara, but for Hawthorne.
The policy of paddling PA's for their superior's mistakes actually had a purpose beyond mere titillation. Men generally develop affection for beautiful women who provide them with sexual gratification, and most board members actually felt somewhat guilty when seeing their assistant take swats that had been the result of executive failure. Furthermore, they usually felt jealousy when watching another man spank "their girl" - giving another reason to protect her from Eddington's paddle. Unfortunately, Hawthorne was unaffected by either of these considerations. He cared nothing for Tamara's suffering, nor did he care who beat her. Her beauty, obedience, and excellent service, (both professional and personal,) had failed to make an impact on his stony heart.
"Anything else?" Eddington asked testily. He frowned as he looked around the room. Hawthorne's sadistic enjoyment of Tamara's paddling, as well as her loudly-broadcasted anguish, had spoiled his fun. He almost never felt bad about spanking beautiful behinds, but this was different. Tamara should never have been put over the table in this condition, and in truth he was feeling guilty about not insisting on a replacement for her.
By rights, Hawthorne's poor performance should have earned Tamara the same "six of the best" that Amelia had received - but even the sexist members of the board could see that she was in no shape to take it. While seeing a young lady brought to tears was one thing, the sheer torture that Tamara had suffered was another entirely. This had gone too far...
Eddington's frown as he visually interrogated the other executives made it clear that he had no desire to administer more swats. They shook their heads silently.
"Report concluded." Eddington carefully pulled Tammy's thong back up and lowered her skirt. "You may sit now." In a rare show of compassion he hugged the distraught assistant and whispered, "I'm sorry, my dear," before releasing her.
The weeping girl stumbled back to her seat. Once there, she looked in obvious dread at the hard wooden chair, and the distressed look on her face plainly showed her fear of sitting down. While she hesitated, there were more expressions of disapproval from the executives around the table. Derek Fowlds frowned with obvious displeasure. Like all the other board members he was a firm believer that young ladies needed to be spanked - but he also believed it should be a "firm correction" rather than a brutal beating.
"If I may, chairman," Fowlds spoke up, "I submit that the poor performance of the appliance division cannot be put down soley to the economic squeeze. Every other department has managed to get close to targets." Nods of agreement around the table indicated support.
"In my very experienced opinion," Fowlds continued, "This kind of failure indicates not just not simply a bad economy, but a failure of leadership."
"Yes, indeed!"
"Poor management, definitely an executive issue."
It seemed that all present concurred with Fowlds.
Hawthorne was obviously surprised at this new development. The smug smile vanished from his face, replaced by a look of concern.
"In view of this failure, I propose that Mr Hawthorne be stripped of his executive privileges for the next three months," Fowlds said in a hard tone. "And that they may only be given back after the next board meeting, provided that his department has performed in line with the average. Do I have a second?"
Hawthorne looked shocked. Losing his executive privileges meant that he would no longer be able to use company limos, fly on the corporate jet - or lay a hand on his underlings. Both their sensitive openings and their firm young bottoms would be off-limits for the duration of his suspension. Worse still, everyone would know that he was in the doghouse! The embarrassment of being publicly shamed was nearly as bad as the loss of privileges. The girls would be laughing at him behind his back! He opened his mouth to protest - but was immediately cut off by Amelia.
"I second the motion!" she said loudly, while smiling at Hawthorne. She would not have dared to suggest it herself, but since Fowlds was a well-respected executive there was no risk in following his lead. "May we see a show of hands?"
The chairman nodded in agreement. "All those in favour?"
Everyone except Hawthorne raised their hands.
"All those against?"
Hawthorne had enough dignity not to protest what was obviously a foregone conclusion.
"Very well. The motion is carried." Hacker banged his paddle on the table. "Mr Hawthorne is hereby stripped of all executive privileges until his department comes up to standard. He will turn in his strap immediately after the conclusion of this meeting. Are there any other issues to be submitted?"
Shakes of the head indicated no, while Hawthorne sat in sullen silence.
"This meeting is now adjourned. Thank you all for your time." Hacker placed his paddle back on the table.
The board slowly rose - casting their gaze back to the delicate damsel who had taken a brutal beating on an already punished posterior. While her face was wet with tears and her hands were engaged in vigorously rubbing her battered backside, she managed a shaky smile of gratitude.
For pretty girls living under the CPA victories were rare indeed - but all the more precious because of it.
