Tales of the CPA - Career Opportunities (Annette 4)
Posted: Sun May 15, 2022 9:15 am
Author's note: It has been over a year since I last wrote anything, but I'm happy with how this turned out. This story is another adventure featuring the "Bare-Bottomed Barrister" Annette - and also brings back another young lady from the very first "Tale of the CPA". I hope it entertains.
Tales of the CPA – Career opportunities (Annette 4)
Amanda carried her drinks tray across the floor of the lounge. Her dark hair was tied up in a coiffure, and a pair of black cat ears adorned her head. A generous application of makeup rimmed her emerald-green eyes, and her lips glistened with pink gloss. Around her neck was a felt collar with a heart-shaped silver medallion that displayed her name. Her shoulders were bare, her arms covered only in elbow-length black lace gloves. She wore a matching black lace crop-top that clung to her slender body and firm B-cup breasts. There was no bra underneath, and her soft pink nipples were visible through the flimsy garment. The top ended above her navel, which was decorated by a jeweled piercing. Around her waist was a black garter belt supporting sheer-silk stockings. She wore no skirt or panties, and her pussy was on display, the neat outer lips forming a delicate crease down the center of her perfectly smooth mound. Anyone standing behind her would be able to see the long cat-style tail that emerged from between her bum cheeks. It was attached to a butt-plug located firmly up her tight little backdoor. The gyration of her buttocks made the tail swish from side to side as she walked, a delicious display that was only slightly spoiled by the bruises that ran across the middle of her beautiful behind. They were a souvenir of a police strapping two days previously – she seldom had an unmarked bottom these days. But that was normal for any pretty girl living under the CPA.
It didn’t bother Amanda that her pussy was exposed – she had bent for the strap countless times over the last six years, and hundreds of people had been given an explicit view of her no-longer-private places. Many thousands more had seen them on the internet, with all of her public thrashings recorded for posterity. In fact, she counted herself lucky to be working at the Pussycat Lounge. It was a big step up from McDonald's in both pay and treatment. While she was of course subject to nightly groping from her customers, it was usually done in a casual, even affectionate manner. At McDonald’s she and her fellow servers had been the primary attraction, shameless titillation for openly ogling customers who were almost invariably low-income and low class. By contrast, the clientele of the members-only lounge were wealthy professionals who were primarily there to network and talk business in a relaxed environment. They viewed her shameless outfit as little more than decoration, something to compliment the atmosphere. Since most of them had either trophy wives or mistresses, they weren’t trying to vent their frustrations by feeling her up – unlike the people who paid for the “VIP” area of McDonald's. Her former customers would have their fingers up inside her as she took their order, (she had worn a microskirt and no panties, making her readily accessible.) If she was lucky, found the right customer, and pretended to enjoy the unwanted invasion of her body, she could score well in tips – but they weren’t obliged to recompense her for the liberties they had taken. To make matters worse, McDonald’s had capitalised on the now-commonplace use of corporal punishment. They used any excuse to beat their waitresses in front of customers, both in the VIP section and the general public area. The instrument used was a metal burger-flipper, hideously painful and dreadfully damaging to a soft behind. Not only was this a source of great entertainment to the watching crowd, but many would pay a couple of pounds extra to have their burgers flipped by the same spatula. In blatant defiance of health regulations, it was washed only rarely, thus ensuring that the diners had their food prepared by a utensil that had recently been in direct contact with the beautiful buttocks of a teenage girl. In a way, that was flattering, and Amanda knew that any one of them would have happily planted their lips directly on her ass – but it also meant that the spatula was in regular, (usually unfair,) use.
By contrast, the Pussycat Lounge only spanked her when she had spilled a drink, got an order wrong, or otherwise failed to give good service. And she was spanked in the kitchen, not in front of the customers. The upper-class didn’t want their conversation interrupted by the gasps and sobs of a disciplined damsel. She was a waitress first and foremost.
The buttplug didn’t bother her either. Her asshole had seen plenty of traffic since her sixteenth birthday, thanks to the cavity searches and colonic tubes eagerly applied by police. It had felt strange to be walking around with it at first, but she soon got used to it. In fact, she was starting to like it…
It was a usual work night, the lounge hired by a law firm that wanted to wine and dine its clients. But there was one thing that wasn’t usual. The waitresses weren’t the only ones with their perfect posteriors on display – several of the female customers were wearing outfits that were strategically tailored to leave their bottoms bare. It wasn’t something Amanda had seen before, and at first she had assumed that they were escorts hired for the occasion, since all were beautiful women in their mid-twenties or early thirties. But then she had noticed how the women were treated by the other guests. While they weren’t shy about patting, pinching, or squeezing the female flesh that was on display, the men actually spoke to the women with respect. Having observed many hours of interaction between people in social settings, Amanda could tell that these women were actually held in high regard, and were addressed as equals. This was most peculiar…
Curious to know what was going on, she had paid more attention than usual to the conversation around her. It was mostly business talk as she expected, but it soon became clear that the women were not escorts – they worked for a law firm. These were the famous “Bare-bottomed Barristers”!
Amanda had heard of them, as had nearly everyone in the United Kingdom. Hired for their beauty as well as their brains, their terms of employment required them to have their backsides on display whenever they worked – both in court and in the office. While the Pussycat Lounge was neither of those, it seemed the rules still applied at any work function. But none of them seemed bothered by their partial nudity. Like Amanda, they had spent years under the CPA, and modesty simply didn’t exist anymore. Any authority figure, whether Headmaster, police officer, or employer, could order a girl to present herself for a spanking – and it didn’t matter who was watching Being exposed was simply part of life. In fact, Amanda was pretty sure that she could have sold tickets to her gyno exams without batting an eyelid. But she was fascinated by these women, who were famous for both their brazen display and their impressive performance in court. Initially they had been regarded as a joke, but as they racked up win after win, it became clear to the startled legal community that they were a force to be reckoned with. With their open-backed skirts constantly reminding them of the price of failure, they were more motivated than anyone else. Combined with the fact that they were only recruited from the very best of the legal graduates, a bare-bottomed barrister was no laughing matter for opposing counsel or a public prosecutor.
Annette was in a good mood as she chatted to David Johnson, her employer and senior partner of the law firm. The fresh bruises on her beautiful behind didn’t trouble her a bit – she was still riding high on the satisfaction of her latest victory. She wore a backless evening gown that only became a full dress below her pert buttocks, and she loved how she looked in it. Tonight she could socialise with her existing clients and meet some potential new ones. To her this was a great career opportunity, as well as a pleasant evening. She was five-foot six, slim and pretty, with dark brown hair. Her blue eyes sparkled with professional pride - and the knowledge that she was an object of desire for all the men present. In court, she commanded a five hundred pound per hour fee, testament to her skill as a lawyer. But she also knew that many men would pay far more to share her bed, if she would only let them. Currently she was enjoying the best of both worlds, being both lusted after and in demand for her professional skills. And this was one of the few times when she didn’t have to worry about being spanked. The lounge was an exclusive club that the police couldn’t raid without a warrant, and the only man present who had the authority to punish her was David – who was currently expressing his profound admiration for her work. He was a tall, thin man, white-haired and wearing old-fashioned wire-rimmed spectacles. He was quick to apply corporal punishment in the workplace, but only when a woman failed to do her job properly. It had been months since she had had to bend for his cane.
“I’m proud of you Annette!” David was saying. “You never fail to uphold the name of the firm. Each time you appear in court you make us more famous – the phone just doesn’t stop ringing!”
“Thank you sir,” she replied. “But this one was easy. The prosecutor hadn’t done his homework.”
“You found a two-hundred-year-old principle legal precedent!” David laughed. “How could he possibly prepare for that?”
“It’s called an internet search. That guy should retire, he’s a living fossil.”
“Be that as it may, it was still a marvelous win.” He touched his glass to hers. “Here’s to victory!”
They sipped at their champagne. Annette’s relationship with David had become more equal over the past couple of years, and combined with the relaxed atmosphere of the lounge, she finally felt comfortable in asking a question that had been on her mind for some time.
“I’ve been wondering,” she said. “What happens when I’m no longer young and pretty enough to be eye-candy for the jury. Are you going to fire me?”
David looked genuinely shocked. “Good heavens, no!” he declared vehemently. “Do you really think we would fire a lawyer as good as you?”
“You always said that my ass helps me win in court. If it’s not worth looking at, why keep me on?”
David placed his glass on a nearby table and reached out to gently grasp her shoulders. “Please listen to me Annette, and know that everything I say is the truth.” He was looking her directly in the eyes, and she could tell that he was being absolutely serious. “Your beauty and your behind do indeed help in court, but that’s just a gimmick to keep jurors engaged. They are mostly disinterested observers who couldn’t find an excuse to get out of it – or else people on welfare who think a hundred pounds a day is a fortune. They are little more than sheep – and sheep are easily led. So that’s the first reason that we have you showing your sweet young ass. The second reason is that having the bare bottoms of our lovely lawyers on display is unbeatable advertising. Everyone knows about us!”
Annette snorted with laughter. “I WISH my bottom was unbeatable! It’s been beaten more times than a drumset!”
David chuckled at her joke. “Yes, indeed it has!” He grew serious again. “The third reason is motivational, since you know that judges will use any excuse to punish you. But honestly, that doesn’t seem to be necessary. We picked all of you based on your academic qualifications as well as your looks, and nobody does that well at university unless they have the intelligence and drive to excel. You are a great lawyer my dear, and you will only get better with time. I wouldn’t dream of firing you simply because you are no longer pretty. In any case, that day will be a long time coming!” He smiled at her.
“Thank you sir,” Annette replied. It was reassuring to know that he valued her skills more than her sex appeal. “But I can’t keep showing my ass when it gets wrinkled and saggy. So what do I do then?”
“Fair question.” David nodded. “If your bare bottom is no longer scoring points with the jurors, then you can start wearing a full skirt.”
“How will you know when that happens?”
“When the judges stop spanking you of course!” David chuckled. “If you are desirable, you get spanked. If not, you get ignored.”
It was a simple truth, but nonetheless hit Annette hard. Attractive women were frequently ordered to bend for punishment – plain ones rarely, and ugly ones never. So while she might long for a day when she was no longer subject to corporal punishment, that day would only come when she was no longer spank-worthy – and it would, ironically, be a sad day for her. She pondered this in silence as David retrieved his glass.
“But you may no longer be with us by then. I know you’ve had offers from other firms.”
It was true - Annette had been approached by interested parties. “Yes,” she shrugged. “But I think I have better opportunities with you.”
Since firing their male employees in favour of beautiful young women, The Quill and Cane had been left with a decades-wide gap between the frontline lawyers and the senior partners. This meant that there was virtually nobody standing between Annette and full partnership, and she was confident that her performance would push her to the top. She had been offered better pay at other firms, but she knew that she would be facing a glass ceiling, used for her beauty while being denied promotion. And when her looks faded she would likely be discarded. She wanted more for herself – and she knew she deserved it.
“I hear some have even offered to let you keep your panties on!” David raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that make a difference?”
Annette shrugged. “It hardly matters now, does it? I’ve been seen by half the country. And there’s no point covering my ass in court when I’m going to be flashing my pussy every time I bend over.”
Court spankings were frequent – especially for a woman like Annette who was both a natural beauty and relentless in presenting her case. She would raise every possible objection, no matter what the cost. That cost was usually bending over and presenting her bare buttocks for a quick four swats with whichever instrument the judge saw fit.
“A good attitude to have.” David inclined his head in a slight bow. “And you know that Alexander and I aren’t going to be here forever. I think we’ll both be retiring in the next ten years. When that happens, we will need to appoint new senior partners.”
David was in his early sixties. Alexander was a few years younger, but decades of smoking and drinking had taken their toll on his health. It was generally believed around the office that he would be the first to step down.
“Niccola has seniority over me.”
Niccola was an olive-skinned beauty of Greek descent, with dark eyes and long, thick, raven-black hair. She was a curvaceous woman whose pleasantly plump posterior always put on a fine display in court, bouncing, rippling and jiggling as she took her swats. Right now she was engaged in conversation with a potential client, listening intently to his legal troubles while pretending to ignore the fact that his hand was on her ass, his fingers slowly working their way into the deep cleft between her buttocks. The young ladies who worked at the Quill and Cane always perfumed their behinds so that any questing hand would smell tantalisingly feminine after being withdrawn. They were mindful of the fact that they had to be above reproach both professionally and when it came to intimate contact. This required them to be skilled lawyers, smooth diplomats – and to have the grooming standards of porn stars. It wasn’t easy to meet all of those requirements. Fortunately, by the time they had qualified as lawyers, they were already well-used to being groped and molested by the police, allowing them to take a dispassionate view of this kind of attention.
“True, but she isn’t the lawyer that you are. Still, there’s more to running a firm than just that.” He took another sip of his drink. “You won’t need to worry about advertising of course – we already have more prospective clients than we can handle. But you need to uphold standards, manage employees, and deal with conflicting interests. It’s a complicated thing. But ultimately, I think it’s going to be up to you. If you want to be the next senior partner, you’ll get there. You’ve always done what it takes to win. So, before too long, you may get to make your own decision about what to wear in court.” He winked at her. “Now please excuse me my dear, I must go and mingle.” He gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek.
Annette found herself lost in her own thoughts as he walked away. Senior partner! Able to decide on what to wear! She would be able to change this ridiculous uniform requirement and –
She frowned. A thought had struck her. What she had said was true, there was no point being coy when she would be giving the courtroom a full show several times during each case. Covering her ass after being bare for years seemed equally pointless. Why bother now? But, worst of all, if she tried to regain her modesty it would be admitting that being bare-bottomed had made her embarrassed. It would make her look weak!
It slowly dawned on her that even when she had the option to wear regular clothes, she would still have to go bare-assed just to maintain her own self-respect! It was a ridiculous situation that her superior intellect was having trouble processing.
Her reflection was broken by one of the waitresses, who walked past her with her tail swaying seductively. Annette couldn’t help but be curious. “Excuse me…”
The girl turned, a professional smile on her delicate lips. “Would you like a drink madam?”
“No, thanks,” Annette waved her half-full glass. “I was just wondering. That buttplug you’re wearing – does it hurt?”
“No, not at all. It’s a very good design.”
“Doesn’t it chafe? I mean, you’re wearing it all night.”
“It’s fine as long as you use a good lube. Anyway, it’s not the worst thing I’ve had up my ass!” she smiled ruefully.
Annette could certainly relate to that. Strip and cavity searches were hardly the worst thing that could happen under the CPA. Any girl old enough to be searched was also eligible to receive an enema – supposedly to “flush out contraband,” but in reality it was just another method to humiliate young women, while entertaining the police who administered it. The standard instrument was a twelve-inch tube, and any girl who was pretty enough to draw police attention could expect to feel it snaking its way up her back passage shortly after her sixteenth birthday. Amanda’s beauty and slender figure meant that she would be well-acquainted with the procedure by now. But there was worse in store for those who aggravated the cops. Annette had received the “special hose” at the hands of PC Carver some months ago. Her rear entrance had been violated to a degree that few women ever experienced. One and a half inches thick, and twenty inches long, it had boldly gone to places that nothing had gone before… and then a little further. She shuddered at the memory. Compared to that, a buttplug sounded like nothing.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” the younger woman continued, “Are you the bare-bottomed barristers?”
Annette nodded. “Officially we’re the Quill and Cane, but yeah, that’s what everyone calls us.” She heard someone walk past behind her, and felt a couple of quick pats on her ass. She didn’t bother to look around – getting felt up was normal for these functions. If the man actually wanted to speak to her, he could approach her from the front.
The waitress glanced around to check if her manager was watching. Satisfied that she could risk a quick conversation she stepped closer. “You’re my heroes! My name’s Amanda. I’m in first year law, and I’ve studied your cases!”
“Getting spanked in court makes me your hero?”
“Well, not exactly,” the young woman fidgeted as she sought the right words. “I mean, you’re the best! Your Crown vs Karloff case is in the syllabus! You’ve only been practicing for a couple of years, and you’re already making legal history!”
Annette was stunned – albeit flattered – to learn that she had made such an impact. Her dogged defence of Boris Karloff had been a gruelling experience. A losing case with a blatantly guilty client, she had won at great cost to her tender tushy – but it had indeed been her skill as a lawyer that carried the day. A shame she hadn’t thought about those points earlier in the case, but that was life sometimes…
“Could you give me any tips on how to succeed?” Amanda asked.
“I call it ‘the three p’s’. Firstly, preparation. You have to know everything about your case, both the facts and the relevant laws. Secondly, presentation. How you put your argument counts for a lot. If it’s a judge-only trial then you can get detailed on matters of law – in fact, they like that. But if it’s a jury trial, you have to dumb it down. Keep the legal arguments simple so jurors can understand them, and count off your points on your fingers. That helps them focus, and makes it appear as if what you’re saying is irrefutable fact. Thirdly,” Annette smiled grimly. “Pain tolerance. You’ll be getting spanked a lot – and the judges can choose what you get hit with. It’s only four swats at a time, so nothing compared to a police strapping, but you'll be getting several during the trial. My boss always says that if you aren’t getting spanked, you aren’t doing your job! And you can’t rub your ass – it makes you look weak. You have to pretend it’s no problem at all. I always make sure to thank the judge for issuing the punishment, as well as the bailiff for spanking me.”
“I’ve noticed,” Amanda nodded. “It was amazing how you could do that!”
“Years of practice. I learned early on that the cops are a little easier on girls who seem grateful. But that brings me to another thing. If you’re a good lawyer, you’ll be a target for the police. They don’t like losing, and when you’re out of court they have all the power. So expect to be getting more than your fair share of police attention. I got pulled over a while ago by a cop who I’d made a fool of in court. He took me down to the station and gave me the works. It was pretty bad, I can tell you.”
Amanda was beginning to wonder if she’d chosen the wrong career. “Is it worth it?” she asked.
“Depends,” Annette shrugged. “It’s a high-paying job if you work for the right firm – some will just use you as window-dressing to attract clients. But I guess the main reason I do it is because court is the one place where I can actually win over the police. It’s satisfying – if you’ve got the buns for it. You’re basically a HotBot as well as a lawyer, and you have to be good at both.”
“Having the buns for it” was a slang term for being able to put one’s ass on the line, knowing full well what would happen. A woman’s ability to take punishment made a huge difference to her job prospects these days.
Amanda chewed her lip. “Sounds tougher than I thought,” she mused. “I’m not sure if I really have what it takes.”
“It’s not too late to change your course,” Annette pointed out. “Some of your subjects can be counted toward another degree, and it’s better to lose one year than end up in a career that you aren’t suited to.” She heard more footsteps behind her, and saw Amanda’s eyes shift to the side as she looked at whoever was. She felt a gentle pinch on her cheeks – inconsiderately given right on top of her bruises. As before, she ignored the unwanted attention. The pinch became harder, trying to elicit a reaction. When she refused to acknowledge that she was being molested the fingers twisted with sudden force, bringing the pain to a truly nasty level. But she stood firm, her gaze still on Amanda. “So, it’s your choice,” she said calmly. “But you have to be committed to it, otherwise you’re just wasting your time. Do you think you’re up to it?”
The fingers released their grip, the owner stalking off with a heavy tread that indicated displeasure at being ignored. Annette waited a few seconds to ensure that he was out of earshot. “Who was that?” she queried.
“Um, short guy, bit fat, glasses,” Amanda replied.
“I know the one. He’s a prick.” She was used to being groped by her clients, but there was a difference between opportunistic petting and outright sadism. Boris Karloff, by contrast, had been a gentleman. He was fond of patting her lovely cheeks, but always gently. And after her famous win, once they were in private, he had got down on his knees and kissed her bruised buttocks for several long, soothing minutes. While she knew that he had enjoyed it, she also knew that Boris was a man of considerable pride, and would never have knelt for anyone else. So she had taken it as a great compliment. And in truth, she had enjoyed it too. She had been taken near to breaking point by the numerous strappings she had taken that day, and it felt good to have his warm lips on her throbbing, welted ass.
“So anyway, do you think you still want to study law?”
Amanda sighed. “I really don’t know…” Several seconds of silence followed. The older woman saw the doubt and confusion in her eyes and was sympathetic.
“I’ll make you an offer,” she declared. “Come to my house tomorrow evening and we’ll see if you’ve got what it takes. IF – and that’s a big if – I’m convinced you’re lawyer material, I’ll mentor you, and help you with your studies. In return, you can help me with research and case preparation. A win-win situation. How does that sound?”
Amanda’s eyes sparkled. “That’s so generous of you!” she exclaimed. “Of course, I’d love that!”
“Okay, but you’d better know your stuff. I won’t be going easy on you. This would mean a considerable commitment from me, and my time is valuable. So unless you REALLY impress me, the deal’s off.”
“Thank you!” Amanda gushed. “I’ll give it my best!” She suddenly realised that she had been neglecting her duties for several minutes. “Oh, crap, I’ve got to get moving!”
“I’ll get your number later. Back to work!”
Annette watched thoughtfully as the excited teenager hurried away, tail swinging enticingly between her legs. So beautiful! So young and hopeful! Life wasn’t easy under the CPA. A girl like Amanda was a target for men in authority. Constantly spanked, searched and otherwise abused, it was hard for a girl to stay positive. This one was special…
Later that night, as she was lying in bed, Annette began to have doubts. Was this really a good idea? It would take up a few precious hours a week, and Amanda wasn’t likely to be of any real help to her for some time – Annette wasn’t going to trust someone else’s research unless she knew it was rock solid. But then another thought occurred to her. Amanda did have something to offer…
Annette had been single since becoming a qualified lawyer. At first it was because she had been far too busy establishing herself to bother with dating, but then it had been because of a lack of eligible men. She had no shortage of offers, but almost none met her standards. She needed someone who was her intellectual equal – a requirement that ruled out ninety percent of men. She couldn’t date a man who wasn’t handsome either – she herself was a perfect ‘10’, and she wasn’t going to settle for less than what she was worth. But even if those criteria were met, there was still a personality test that most men failed to pass. She demanded to be treated with respect. That was a rare thing these days. Since men regularly saw young women bent over and showing everything they had, most assumed that the “modern woman” was little more than a cheap whore. In addition, they always assumed that they had a right to spank their girlfriends. Annette wasn’t averse to taking a few swats in the bedroom, as long as it wasn’t too hard or too frequent, but she wasn’t going to let a man thrash her the way the police did – and certainly not with the same instrument. On the other hand…
Annette had done her share of experimenting during her time at Uni. Drinking, partying, even some soft drugs such as ecstasy and pot. She had also experimented with women. While the soft touch of another girl didn’t equal the feeling of a hard cock inside her, it certainly wasn’t bad. And it was DEFINITELY better than being single. She had tried one-night-stands a few times but found them emotionally unsatisfying. Amanda could be the answer – and she was so very, very, lovely.
Annette pleasured herself that night, thinking of the winsome waitress in her shameless uniform, and imagining what the two of them might do together. She just hoped that Amanda could prove herself worthy. If she couldn’t make the grade, there was no point helping her. But if she COULD – then Annette might have something she desperately needed. A friend, an assistant – and a bedroom partner with whom she could be open and honest.
Please be the one! She thought as her body reached climax…
*****************************************************************************
The following evening, Annette’s doorbell rang and she ushered the excited teenager inside. Amanda was wearing blue denim jeans and a white T-shirt, while Annette was clad in track pants and a flannel top. She liked to be comfortable when relaxing at home.
“Glad you could make it!” She ushered the young woman into the living room. “Shall we begin?”
“Sure!” Amanda moved toward an armchair.
“Not like that!” Annette told her. “You won’t be sitting down for this.”
“You mean I have to think on my feet?” the girl quipped.
“Not exactly.” Annette walked to the sofa and pulled a thin rattan cane from behind it. “Bend and present!”
Amanda’s jaw dropped. “What?” she exclaimed in confusion.
Annette smiled. “I’m going to interview you the same way I was interviewed. And no, I didn’t get any warning either. But you have to be ready to take your licks at any time – and you have to keep your head clear while you do. So, this will tell me if you’re really good enough. Can you perform under pressure?”
With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Amanda realised that it was true. She was well aware of what happened in court, having read the transcripts of Annette’s cases. If she couldn’t take the heat, she had no place in the kitchen… At least this way she would find out one way or another. With a nod of assent, she knelt down to remove her shoes and socks, then stood to unfasten her jeans. She pulled them over her slender hips and took them off, revealing high-cut white cotton panties. Without hesitation she slipped them down, displaying the beautiful little pussy Annette had seen the night before. Turning her back, she took a deep breath and bent over, spreading her legs wide and holding her ankles.
“What do we say?” Annette prompted.
“I am ready to be punished ma’am. Please give me what I deserve.”
“That’s better. Remember, you have to be grateful for what you are about to receive!” The cane tapped against Amanda’s small round bottom. “We’ll start with six to get you warmed up. Then I’ll move on to the questions. Ready?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
*CRACK!* The cane bit into soft flesh, making Amanda gasp. But she was no stranger to its bite – the cane was used at uni as well as school. “One, thank you ma’am.”
*CRACK!* Annette swung again.
“Two, thank you ma’am.” Six was a standard punishment at school, and Amanda had received it often. She knew that she could take this – but what was in store after? “To get you warmed up” Annette had said – and the teenager knew that her ass would be very warm by the time she had taken her strokes!
It suddenly occurred to Annette that while she had bent for countless thrashings over the years, she had never given one before. It was certainly more fun on this end! But, as she admired the thin red lines that now accompanied the bruises on Amanda’s sweet little bum, she was discovering that using the cane was harder than it looked. She had aimed for the center of the girl’s buttocks, but the first stroke had gone too high, and the second one too low. She had a new appreciation for David’s skill with the instrument. He could lay six perfectly parallel strokes on one of his employees without any of them touching one other. Of course, he’d had years of practice…
She tapped the cane against Amanda’s chastened cheeks again to help her aim. Drawing back her arm slowly, she swung briskly and flicked her wrist a little more this time.
*CRACK!* This stroke hit close to her aiming point – she was getting better.
“Three, thank you ma’am.” Amanda’s voice was slightly strained, but she seemed to be taking it well so far. The next couple of strokes didn’t phase her, So Annette decided to give the last one her full strength.
*CRACK!*
“Yeow!” A small cry of pain showed that the girl hadn’t been expecting things to escalate. She panted a couple of times before counting off. “Six, thank you ma’am!”
This is just the start! Amanda was beginning to have second thoughts. Both about her choice of career, and about whether the famous lawyer was actually going to give the assistance she had promised. Her enthusiastic use of the cane didn’t seem to match her previous friendly attitude. But if she backed out now, Amanda would have taken six strokes for nothing. She decided it was best to commit to this interview. At worst, she would end up with a throbbing bottom – something she was used to. At best, she might actually have someone who was willing to help her achieve her goals. This wasn’t the first offer she had been given – several of her university lecturers had made it clear that they were in the market for a protogé/mistress, but they were all old, married, and physically repugnant. Amanda had also observed that success in her hopeful line of work didn’t just depend on what you knew – it depended on WHO you knew. Annette was a standout performer in a crowded field, a woman who was experienced in the harsh realities of the courtroom, and who was predicted to have a brilliant career. It was hard to imagine anyone better qualified to teach Amanda the ropes.
She paused to catch her breath. “Thank you for p-punishing me, ma’am,” her voice shook a little.
“Not bad,” Annette said approvingly. “Time to see if you know your stuff. Remember to keep the count! Now then,” she paused to think about her first question. As she did so, she found herself admiring the view in front of her. Amanda’s lips had parted slightly, her slit glistened with moisture, and her tiny rosebud was a beautiful shade of pink. “Are you shaved, waxed, or lasered?”
“What?” was the astonished response.
*CRACK!*
“Ow! S-seven, thank you ma’am!”
“In court, you must be ready for anything!” Annette lectured. “You must never seem surprised, you must never hesitate. You must be calm and collected at all times.” She swished the cane through the air, the sound making Amanda flinch as she anticipated a stroke that never came. “So, are you shaved, waxed, or lasered?”
“I’m lasered, ma’am.”
Excellent! Being lasered meant that her mound would be perfectly smooth at all times. Annette felt a stirring in her nether regions as she imagined how it would feel to run her tongue over the soft skin and investigate that delicious opening… She forced herself to get back to business.
“In what year was the Magna Carter signed?”
“Um, Twelve fifteen.”
Annette gave the pert posterior a couple of warning flicks with her cane, just hard enough to sting. “No ‘um’. No hesitation. Be prompt and definite!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The next few questions were answered more quickly. Now that Amanda had come to terms with this startling turn of events, and been sufficiently inspired by the pain in her tender tushy, her mind was working rapidly. She began to distance herself from the throbbing welts on her behind and was feeling more confident. But her winning streak didn’t last forever.
“What is the speed limit in a school zone?”
“Twenty miles per hour.”
“How many people are on a cricket team?”
“Eleven.”
*CRACK!*
“Ahhh! That’s not fair!” protested Amanda. “I was right!”
“There are TWELVE men on a cricket team,” Annette told her sternly. “Eleven players and one reserve. This is what I mean about preparation. You must know EVERYTHING about your case. Even one small mistake can make the difference between winning and losing.” She felt a bit hypocritical as she said it. She herself had failed to properly prepare for the Karloff trial, missing a couple of details that had been crucial in turning it from certain loss to a famous triumph. While everyone else saw it as a magnificent display of legal prowess, in reality it had been poor preparation that almost lost her the case, saved only at the last minute by a flash of inspiration.
“So, count off!”
“S… seven, thank you ma’am.”
Annette swung again.
*CRACK!*
“OOOOWWW!” Amanda waggled her bottom from side to side as if she could shake off the pain.
“The one BEFORE your incorrect answer was seven! So what was this one?”
SHIT! Amanda desperately tried to count in her head. Seven, then one for being wrong, one for losing count… “N-nine, thank you ma’am!” She swallowed hard. This was a far tougher interview than she had expected!
“That’s better!” Annette smiled in approval. She was enjoying herself far more than she had expected – and felt a little guilty about it. Being on THIS end of the cane was a new experience for her. She had always despised her headmaster for his blatant abuse of the power given to him. She had known early on that he concocted excuses to bend her over his desk – and even blamed her for things that other students had done. Sometimes this had resulted in another set of stripes across her beautiful little backside – other times she had “worked it off” by providing him sexual favours. And yet, now that she found herself in his position, she was behaving the same way! Granted, Amanda wasn’t obliged to take this caning, but the harsh realities of life under the CPA meant that she had little choice if she wanted a good career. Like countless women before her, she had to submit herself to undignified punishment just to give herself a chance.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
Amanda nearly blurted out the truth, but managed to bite her tongue in time. “Yes ma’am! I love having my ass caned – please give me some more!” She braced herself for another stroke, but it didn’t come. Instead, Annette gently caressed the gorgeous globes that were now streaked with welts. “VERY good!” she said approvingly. “That’s the attitude you’ll need in court. Always be grateful, always be eager to take your swats. As I said, you’ll have to be a HotBot as well as a lawyer.”
She had to resist the urge to slide her fingers into the moist opening that Amanda was presenting to her. How tight was she? How would she taste? Her own pussy was now shamefully wet, fantasies running through her head. She was going to need her dildo tonight – she wanted something hard inside her. Or maybe, Amanda could use the strapon? It had remained unused in her wardrobe for years – kept as a souvenir of her wild times at university. After what she had been through, the girl would doubtless be happy to give Annette a good, solid fucking. It would hurt – but in a good way…
Annette was hornier than she had been for months. She was confident now that Amanda had what it took, that she would be a worthy student. And maybe, one day, she would work with Annette at the Quill and Cane. But only if she gave Annette the satisfaction that she needed!
“Have you ever slept with another woman?” Annette’s heart was pounding as she asked. Please say yes!
“Yes, ma’am.” The answer was quick and unashamed.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes.”
That one simple word sent fresh thrills through Annette’s body. She was the one! This was truly a perfect match – a partner she could respect, desire, and have a more equal relationship with. In fact, more than equal, since Annette would be the one with the authority. She found herself lost in a sea of emotions – lust, admiration, relief, and (less honorably,) the knowledge that she LIKED being the one to administer corporal punishment. She now understood why her headmaster had caned her so often – why the police treated her the way they did. The simple fact was, power corrupts, and base instincts win over. Her panties were moist now, she could barely wait to take them off and spread her legs so she could take the strapon into her wet, eager pussy. This was going to be a wonderful night!
But first, she had to conclude the interview.
“You’ve done well Amanda,” she told the quietly submissive girl. “I’m going to give you one more test. I’m going to give you another six – and after each stroke, you will count off, and give me the name of a Supreme court Judge. Understand?”
FUCK! Amanda’s mind went into overdrive as she struggled to remember which old fogeys were sitting on the Supreme Court. But it wasn’t an unfair question – it was something a law student should know. There were ten Justices and she only needed six. Her injured rump was trembling in anticipation of more strokes, but if this was the final test she wasn’t going to back out now. “Y-yes, ma’am, I understand.”
“Good. If you can manage this, then I promise to be your mentor.” And your lover! The lawyer added silently.
“Thank you, ma’am! Give it to me hard!” Amanda gritted her teeth and waited for the cane to slice into her tender flesh. While she was dreading what was to come, she also knew that Annette was right. She had to be ready for anything, both physically and mentally. The thought of the cases she had studied, how Annette had raised objections even though she knew they were futile and would get her nothing but a whipped ass. She truly was a HotBot – and she had to practice law at the same time! It was no wonder that the Bare-Bottomed Barristers were held in such high regard. To be bending over several times during a case, and still keep a clear head was a difficult thing indeed…
Annette felt a twinge of guilt as she prepared to administer another harsh caning.
Was she being too hard on Amanda? No, the courtroom was a rough place, and if Amanda wasn’t ready for it then she’d never succeed. It’s for her own good, really… Annette told herself. The simple truth was, the CPA had changed everything, and life would never go back to how it had been before. But that raised another question – one that had been lurking in the back of her mind since her chat with David.
Did she really want it to? ...
Tales of the CPA – Career opportunities (Annette 4)
Amanda carried her drinks tray across the floor of the lounge. Her dark hair was tied up in a coiffure, and a pair of black cat ears adorned her head. A generous application of makeup rimmed her emerald-green eyes, and her lips glistened with pink gloss. Around her neck was a felt collar with a heart-shaped silver medallion that displayed her name. Her shoulders were bare, her arms covered only in elbow-length black lace gloves. She wore a matching black lace crop-top that clung to her slender body and firm B-cup breasts. There was no bra underneath, and her soft pink nipples were visible through the flimsy garment. The top ended above her navel, which was decorated by a jeweled piercing. Around her waist was a black garter belt supporting sheer-silk stockings. She wore no skirt or panties, and her pussy was on display, the neat outer lips forming a delicate crease down the center of her perfectly smooth mound. Anyone standing behind her would be able to see the long cat-style tail that emerged from between her bum cheeks. It was attached to a butt-plug located firmly up her tight little backdoor. The gyration of her buttocks made the tail swish from side to side as she walked, a delicious display that was only slightly spoiled by the bruises that ran across the middle of her beautiful behind. They were a souvenir of a police strapping two days previously – she seldom had an unmarked bottom these days. But that was normal for any pretty girl living under the CPA.
It didn’t bother Amanda that her pussy was exposed – she had bent for the strap countless times over the last six years, and hundreds of people had been given an explicit view of her no-longer-private places. Many thousands more had seen them on the internet, with all of her public thrashings recorded for posterity. In fact, she counted herself lucky to be working at the Pussycat Lounge. It was a big step up from McDonald's in both pay and treatment. While she was of course subject to nightly groping from her customers, it was usually done in a casual, even affectionate manner. At McDonald’s she and her fellow servers had been the primary attraction, shameless titillation for openly ogling customers who were almost invariably low-income and low class. By contrast, the clientele of the members-only lounge were wealthy professionals who were primarily there to network and talk business in a relaxed environment. They viewed her shameless outfit as little more than decoration, something to compliment the atmosphere. Since most of them had either trophy wives or mistresses, they weren’t trying to vent their frustrations by feeling her up – unlike the people who paid for the “VIP” area of McDonald's. Her former customers would have their fingers up inside her as she took their order, (she had worn a microskirt and no panties, making her readily accessible.) If she was lucky, found the right customer, and pretended to enjoy the unwanted invasion of her body, she could score well in tips – but they weren’t obliged to recompense her for the liberties they had taken. To make matters worse, McDonald’s had capitalised on the now-commonplace use of corporal punishment. They used any excuse to beat their waitresses in front of customers, both in the VIP section and the general public area. The instrument used was a metal burger-flipper, hideously painful and dreadfully damaging to a soft behind. Not only was this a source of great entertainment to the watching crowd, but many would pay a couple of pounds extra to have their burgers flipped by the same spatula. In blatant defiance of health regulations, it was washed only rarely, thus ensuring that the diners had their food prepared by a utensil that had recently been in direct contact with the beautiful buttocks of a teenage girl. In a way, that was flattering, and Amanda knew that any one of them would have happily planted their lips directly on her ass – but it also meant that the spatula was in regular, (usually unfair,) use.
By contrast, the Pussycat Lounge only spanked her when she had spilled a drink, got an order wrong, or otherwise failed to give good service. And she was spanked in the kitchen, not in front of the customers. The upper-class didn’t want their conversation interrupted by the gasps and sobs of a disciplined damsel. She was a waitress first and foremost.
The buttplug didn’t bother her either. Her asshole had seen plenty of traffic since her sixteenth birthday, thanks to the cavity searches and colonic tubes eagerly applied by police. It had felt strange to be walking around with it at first, but she soon got used to it. In fact, she was starting to like it…
It was a usual work night, the lounge hired by a law firm that wanted to wine and dine its clients. But there was one thing that wasn’t usual. The waitresses weren’t the only ones with their perfect posteriors on display – several of the female customers were wearing outfits that were strategically tailored to leave their bottoms bare. It wasn’t something Amanda had seen before, and at first she had assumed that they were escorts hired for the occasion, since all were beautiful women in their mid-twenties or early thirties. But then she had noticed how the women were treated by the other guests. While they weren’t shy about patting, pinching, or squeezing the female flesh that was on display, the men actually spoke to the women with respect. Having observed many hours of interaction between people in social settings, Amanda could tell that these women were actually held in high regard, and were addressed as equals. This was most peculiar…
Curious to know what was going on, she had paid more attention than usual to the conversation around her. It was mostly business talk as she expected, but it soon became clear that the women were not escorts – they worked for a law firm. These were the famous “Bare-bottomed Barristers”!
Amanda had heard of them, as had nearly everyone in the United Kingdom. Hired for their beauty as well as their brains, their terms of employment required them to have their backsides on display whenever they worked – both in court and in the office. While the Pussycat Lounge was neither of those, it seemed the rules still applied at any work function. But none of them seemed bothered by their partial nudity. Like Amanda, they had spent years under the CPA, and modesty simply didn’t exist anymore. Any authority figure, whether Headmaster, police officer, or employer, could order a girl to present herself for a spanking – and it didn’t matter who was watching Being exposed was simply part of life. In fact, Amanda was pretty sure that she could have sold tickets to her gyno exams without batting an eyelid. But she was fascinated by these women, who were famous for both their brazen display and their impressive performance in court. Initially they had been regarded as a joke, but as they racked up win after win, it became clear to the startled legal community that they were a force to be reckoned with. With their open-backed skirts constantly reminding them of the price of failure, they were more motivated than anyone else. Combined with the fact that they were only recruited from the very best of the legal graduates, a bare-bottomed barrister was no laughing matter for opposing counsel or a public prosecutor.
Annette was in a good mood as she chatted to David Johnson, her employer and senior partner of the law firm. The fresh bruises on her beautiful behind didn’t trouble her a bit – she was still riding high on the satisfaction of her latest victory. She wore a backless evening gown that only became a full dress below her pert buttocks, and she loved how she looked in it. Tonight she could socialise with her existing clients and meet some potential new ones. To her this was a great career opportunity, as well as a pleasant evening. She was five-foot six, slim and pretty, with dark brown hair. Her blue eyes sparkled with professional pride - and the knowledge that she was an object of desire for all the men present. In court, she commanded a five hundred pound per hour fee, testament to her skill as a lawyer. But she also knew that many men would pay far more to share her bed, if she would only let them. Currently she was enjoying the best of both worlds, being both lusted after and in demand for her professional skills. And this was one of the few times when she didn’t have to worry about being spanked. The lounge was an exclusive club that the police couldn’t raid without a warrant, and the only man present who had the authority to punish her was David – who was currently expressing his profound admiration for her work. He was a tall, thin man, white-haired and wearing old-fashioned wire-rimmed spectacles. He was quick to apply corporal punishment in the workplace, but only when a woman failed to do her job properly. It had been months since she had had to bend for his cane.
“I’m proud of you Annette!” David was saying. “You never fail to uphold the name of the firm. Each time you appear in court you make us more famous – the phone just doesn’t stop ringing!”
“Thank you sir,” she replied. “But this one was easy. The prosecutor hadn’t done his homework.”
“You found a two-hundred-year-old principle legal precedent!” David laughed. “How could he possibly prepare for that?”
“It’s called an internet search. That guy should retire, he’s a living fossil.”
“Be that as it may, it was still a marvelous win.” He touched his glass to hers. “Here’s to victory!”
They sipped at their champagne. Annette’s relationship with David had become more equal over the past couple of years, and combined with the relaxed atmosphere of the lounge, she finally felt comfortable in asking a question that had been on her mind for some time.
“I’ve been wondering,” she said. “What happens when I’m no longer young and pretty enough to be eye-candy for the jury. Are you going to fire me?”
David looked genuinely shocked. “Good heavens, no!” he declared vehemently. “Do you really think we would fire a lawyer as good as you?”
“You always said that my ass helps me win in court. If it’s not worth looking at, why keep me on?”
David placed his glass on a nearby table and reached out to gently grasp her shoulders. “Please listen to me Annette, and know that everything I say is the truth.” He was looking her directly in the eyes, and she could tell that he was being absolutely serious. “Your beauty and your behind do indeed help in court, but that’s just a gimmick to keep jurors engaged. They are mostly disinterested observers who couldn’t find an excuse to get out of it – or else people on welfare who think a hundred pounds a day is a fortune. They are little more than sheep – and sheep are easily led. So that’s the first reason that we have you showing your sweet young ass. The second reason is that having the bare bottoms of our lovely lawyers on display is unbeatable advertising. Everyone knows about us!”
Annette snorted with laughter. “I WISH my bottom was unbeatable! It’s been beaten more times than a drumset!”
David chuckled at her joke. “Yes, indeed it has!” He grew serious again. “The third reason is motivational, since you know that judges will use any excuse to punish you. But honestly, that doesn’t seem to be necessary. We picked all of you based on your academic qualifications as well as your looks, and nobody does that well at university unless they have the intelligence and drive to excel. You are a great lawyer my dear, and you will only get better with time. I wouldn’t dream of firing you simply because you are no longer pretty. In any case, that day will be a long time coming!” He smiled at her.
“Thank you sir,” Annette replied. It was reassuring to know that he valued her skills more than her sex appeal. “But I can’t keep showing my ass when it gets wrinkled and saggy. So what do I do then?”
“Fair question.” David nodded. “If your bare bottom is no longer scoring points with the jurors, then you can start wearing a full skirt.”
“How will you know when that happens?”
“When the judges stop spanking you of course!” David chuckled. “If you are desirable, you get spanked. If not, you get ignored.”
It was a simple truth, but nonetheless hit Annette hard. Attractive women were frequently ordered to bend for punishment – plain ones rarely, and ugly ones never. So while she might long for a day when she was no longer subject to corporal punishment, that day would only come when she was no longer spank-worthy – and it would, ironically, be a sad day for her. She pondered this in silence as David retrieved his glass.
“But you may no longer be with us by then. I know you’ve had offers from other firms.”
It was true - Annette had been approached by interested parties. “Yes,” she shrugged. “But I think I have better opportunities with you.”
Since firing their male employees in favour of beautiful young women, The Quill and Cane had been left with a decades-wide gap between the frontline lawyers and the senior partners. This meant that there was virtually nobody standing between Annette and full partnership, and she was confident that her performance would push her to the top. She had been offered better pay at other firms, but she knew that she would be facing a glass ceiling, used for her beauty while being denied promotion. And when her looks faded she would likely be discarded. She wanted more for herself – and she knew she deserved it.
“I hear some have even offered to let you keep your panties on!” David raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that make a difference?”
Annette shrugged. “It hardly matters now, does it? I’ve been seen by half the country. And there’s no point covering my ass in court when I’m going to be flashing my pussy every time I bend over.”
Court spankings were frequent – especially for a woman like Annette who was both a natural beauty and relentless in presenting her case. She would raise every possible objection, no matter what the cost. That cost was usually bending over and presenting her bare buttocks for a quick four swats with whichever instrument the judge saw fit.
“A good attitude to have.” David inclined his head in a slight bow. “And you know that Alexander and I aren’t going to be here forever. I think we’ll both be retiring in the next ten years. When that happens, we will need to appoint new senior partners.”
David was in his early sixties. Alexander was a few years younger, but decades of smoking and drinking had taken their toll on his health. It was generally believed around the office that he would be the first to step down.
“Niccola has seniority over me.”
Niccola was an olive-skinned beauty of Greek descent, with dark eyes and long, thick, raven-black hair. She was a curvaceous woman whose pleasantly plump posterior always put on a fine display in court, bouncing, rippling and jiggling as she took her swats. Right now she was engaged in conversation with a potential client, listening intently to his legal troubles while pretending to ignore the fact that his hand was on her ass, his fingers slowly working their way into the deep cleft between her buttocks. The young ladies who worked at the Quill and Cane always perfumed their behinds so that any questing hand would smell tantalisingly feminine after being withdrawn. They were mindful of the fact that they had to be above reproach both professionally and when it came to intimate contact. This required them to be skilled lawyers, smooth diplomats – and to have the grooming standards of porn stars. It wasn’t easy to meet all of those requirements. Fortunately, by the time they had qualified as lawyers, they were already well-used to being groped and molested by the police, allowing them to take a dispassionate view of this kind of attention.
“True, but she isn’t the lawyer that you are. Still, there’s more to running a firm than just that.” He took another sip of his drink. “You won’t need to worry about advertising of course – we already have more prospective clients than we can handle. But you need to uphold standards, manage employees, and deal with conflicting interests. It’s a complicated thing. But ultimately, I think it’s going to be up to you. If you want to be the next senior partner, you’ll get there. You’ve always done what it takes to win. So, before too long, you may get to make your own decision about what to wear in court.” He winked at her. “Now please excuse me my dear, I must go and mingle.” He gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek.
Annette found herself lost in her own thoughts as he walked away. Senior partner! Able to decide on what to wear! She would be able to change this ridiculous uniform requirement and –
She frowned. A thought had struck her. What she had said was true, there was no point being coy when she would be giving the courtroom a full show several times during each case. Covering her ass after being bare for years seemed equally pointless. Why bother now? But, worst of all, if she tried to regain her modesty it would be admitting that being bare-bottomed had made her embarrassed. It would make her look weak!
It slowly dawned on her that even when she had the option to wear regular clothes, she would still have to go bare-assed just to maintain her own self-respect! It was a ridiculous situation that her superior intellect was having trouble processing.
Her reflection was broken by one of the waitresses, who walked past her with her tail swaying seductively. Annette couldn’t help but be curious. “Excuse me…”
The girl turned, a professional smile on her delicate lips. “Would you like a drink madam?”
“No, thanks,” Annette waved her half-full glass. “I was just wondering. That buttplug you’re wearing – does it hurt?”
“No, not at all. It’s a very good design.”
“Doesn’t it chafe? I mean, you’re wearing it all night.”
“It’s fine as long as you use a good lube. Anyway, it’s not the worst thing I’ve had up my ass!” she smiled ruefully.
Annette could certainly relate to that. Strip and cavity searches were hardly the worst thing that could happen under the CPA. Any girl old enough to be searched was also eligible to receive an enema – supposedly to “flush out contraband,” but in reality it was just another method to humiliate young women, while entertaining the police who administered it. The standard instrument was a twelve-inch tube, and any girl who was pretty enough to draw police attention could expect to feel it snaking its way up her back passage shortly after her sixteenth birthday. Amanda’s beauty and slender figure meant that she would be well-acquainted with the procedure by now. But there was worse in store for those who aggravated the cops. Annette had received the “special hose” at the hands of PC Carver some months ago. Her rear entrance had been violated to a degree that few women ever experienced. One and a half inches thick, and twenty inches long, it had boldly gone to places that nothing had gone before… and then a little further. She shuddered at the memory. Compared to that, a buttplug sounded like nothing.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” the younger woman continued, “Are you the bare-bottomed barristers?”
Annette nodded. “Officially we’re the Quill and Cane, but yeah, that’s what everyone calls us.” She heard someone walk past behind her, and felt a couple of quick pats on her ass. She didn’t bother to look around – getting felt up was normal for these functions. If the man actually wanted to speak to her, he could approach her from the front.
The waitress glanced around to check if her manager was watching. Satisfied that she could risk a quick conversation she stepped closer. “You’re my heroes! My name’s Amanda. I’m in first year law, and I’ve studied your cases!”
“Getting spanked in court makes me your hero?”
“Well, not exactly,” the young woman fidgeted as she sought the right words. “I mean, you’re the best! Your Crown vs Karloff case is in the syllabus! You’ve only been practicing for a couple of years, and you’re already making legal history!”
Annette was stunned – albeit flattered – to learn that she had made such an impact. Her dogged defence of Boris Karloff had been a gruelling experience. A losing case with a blatantly guilty client, she had won at great cost to her tender tushy – but it had indeed been her skill as a lawyer that carried the day. A shame she hadn’t thought about those points earlier in the case, but that was life sometimes…
“Could you give me any tips on how to succeed?” Amanda asked.
“I call it ‘the three p’s’. Firstly, preparation. You have to know everything about your case, both the facts and the relevant laws. Secondly, presentation. How you put your argument counts for a lot. If it’s a judge-only trial then you can get detailed on matters of law – in fact, they like that. But if it’s a jury trial, you have to dumb it down. Keep the legal arguments simple so jurors can understand them, and count off your points on your fingers. That helps them focus, and makes it appear as if what you’re saying is irrefutable fact. Thirdly,” Annette smiled grimly. “Pain tolerance. You’ll be getting spanked a lot – and the judges can choose what you get hit with. It’s only four swats at a time, so nothing compared to a police strapping, but you'll be getting several during the trial. My boss always says that if you aren’t getting spanked, you aren’t doing your job! And you can’t rub your ass – it makes you look weak. You have to pretend it’s no problem at all. I always make sure to thank the judge for issuing the punishment, as well as the bailiff for spanking me.”
“I’ve noticed,” Amanda nodded. “It was amazing how you could do that!”
“Years of practice. I learned early on that the cops are a little easier on girls who seem grateful. But that brings me to another thing. If you’re a good lawyer, you’ll be a target for the police. They don’t like losing, and when you’re out of court they have all the power. So expect to be getting more than your fair share of police attention. I got pulled over a while ago by a cop who I’d made a fool of in court. He took me down to the station and gave me the works. It was pretty bad, I can tell you.”
Amanda was beginning to wonder if she’d chosen the wrong career. “Is it worth it?” she asked.
“Depends,” Annette shrugged. “It’s a high-paying job if you work for the right firm – some will just use you as window-dressing to attract clients. But I guess the main reason I do it is because court is the one place where I can actually win over the police. It’s satisfying – if you’ve got the buns for it. You’re basically a HotBot as well as a lawyer, and you have to be good at both.”
“Having the buns for it” was a slang term for being able to put one’s ass on the line, knowing full well what would happen. A woman’s ability to take punishment made a huge difference to her job prospects these days.
Amanda chewed her lip. “Sounds tougher than I thought,” she mused. “I’m not sure if I really have what it takes.”
“It’s not too late to change your course,” Annette pointed out. “Some of your subjects can be counted toward another degree, and it’s better to lose one year than end up in a career that you aren’t suited to.” She heard more footsteps behind her, and saw Amanda’s eyes shift to the side as she looked at whoever was. She felt a gentle pinch on her cheeks – inconsiderately given right on top of her bruises. As before, she ignored the unwanted attention. The pinch became harder, trying to elicit a reaction. When she refused to acknowledge that she was being molested the fingers twisted with sudden force, bringing the pain to a truly nasty level. But she stood firm, her gaze still on Amanda. “So, it’s your choice,” she said calmly. “But you have to be committed to it, otherwise you’re just wasting your time. Do you think you’re up to it?”
The fingers released their grip, the owner stalking off with a heavy tread that indicated displeasure at being ignored. Annette waited a few seconds to ensure that he was out of earshot. “Who was that?” she queried.
“Um, short guy, bit fat, glasses,” Amanda replied.
“I know the one. He’s a prick.” She was used to being groped by her clients, but there was a difference between opportunistic petting and outright sadism. Boris Karloff, by contrast, had been a gentleman. He was fond of patting her lovely cheeks, but always gently. And after her famous win, once they were in private, he had got down on his knees and kissed her bruised buttocks for several long, soothing minutes. While she knew that he had enjoyed it, she also knew that Boris was a man of considerable pride, and would never have knelt for anyone else. So she had taken it as a great compliment. And in truth, she had enjoyed it too. She had been taken near to breaking point by the numerous strappings she had taken that day, and it felt good to have his warm lips on her throbbing, welted ass.
“So anyway, do you think you still want to study law?”
Amanda sighed. “I really don’t know…” Several seconds of silence followed. The older woman saw the doubt and confusion in her eyes and was sympathetic.
“I’ll make you an offer,” she declared. “Come to my house tomorrow evening and we’ll see if you’ve got what it takes. IF – and that’s a big if – I’m convinced you’re lawyer material, I’ll mentor you, and help you with your studies. In return, you can help me with research and case preparation. A win-win situation. How does that sound?”
Amanda’s eyes sparkled. “That’s so generous of you!” she exclaimed. “Of course, I’d love that!”
“Okay, but you’d better know your stuff. I won’t be going easy on you. This would mean a considerable commitment from me, and my time is valuable. So unless you REALLY impress me, the deal’s off.”
“Thank you!” Amanda gushed. “I’ll give it my best!” She suddenly realised that she had been neglecting her duties for several minutes. “Oh, crap, I’ve got to get moving!”
“I’ll get your number later. Back to work!”
Annette watched thoughtfully as the excited teenager hurried away, tail swinging enticingly between her legs. So beautiful! So young and hopeful! Life wasn’t easy under the CPA. A girl like Amanda was a target for men in authority. Constantly spanked, searched and otherwise abused, it was hard for a girl to stay positive. This one was special…
Later that night, as she was lying in bed, Annette began to have doubts. Was this really a good idea? It would take up a few precious hours a week, and Amanda wasn’t likely to be of any real help to her for some time – Annette wasn’t going to trust someone else’s research unless she knew it was rock solid. But then another thought occurred to her. Amanda did have something to offer…
Annette had been single since becoming a qualified lawyer. At first it was because she had been far too busy establishing herself to bother with dating, but then it had been because of a lack of eligible men. She had no shortage of offers, but almost none met her standards. She needed someone who was her intellectual equal – a requirement that ruled out ninety percent of men. She couldn’t date a man who wasn’t handsome either – she herself was a perfect ‘10’, and she wasn’t going to settle for less than what she was worth. But even if those criteria were met, there was still a personality test that most men failed to pass. She demanded to be treated with respect. That was a rare thing these days. Since men regularly saw young women bent over and showing everything they had, most assumed that the “modern woman” was little more than a cheap whore. In addition, they always assumed that they had a right to spank their girlfriends. Annette wasn’t averse to taking a few swats in the bedroom, as long as it wasn’t too hard or too frequent, but she wasn’t going to let a man thrash her the way the police did – and certainly not with the same instrument. On the other hand…
Annette had done her share of experimenting during her time at Uni. Drinking, partying, even some soft drugs such as ecstasy and pot. She had also experimented with women. While the soft touch of another girl didn’t equal the feeling of a hard cock inside her, it certainly wasn’t bad. And it was DEFINITELY better than being single. She had tried one-night-stands a few times but found them emotionally unsatisfying. Amanda could be the answer – and she was so very, very, lovely.
Annette pleasured herself that night, thinking of the winsome waitress in her shameless uniform, and imagining what the two of them might do together. She just hoped that Amanda could prove herself worthy. If she couldn’t make the grade, there was no point helping her. But if she COULD – then Annette might have something she desperately needed. A friend, an assistant – and a bedroom partner with whom she could be open and honest.
Please be the one! She thought as her body reached climax…
*****************************************************************************
The following evening, Annette’s doorbell rang and she ushered the excited teenager inside. Amanda was wearing blue denim jeans and a white T-shirt, while Annette was clad in track pants and a flannel top. She liked to be comfortable when relaxing at home.
“Glad you could make it!” She ushered the young woman into the living room. “Shall we begin?”
“Sure!” Amanda moved toward an armchair.
“Not like that!” Annette told her. “You won’t be sitting down for this.”
“You mean I have to think on my feet?” the girl quipped.
“Not exactly.” Annette walked to the sofa and pulled a thin rattan cane from behind it. “Bend and present!”
Amanda’s jaw dropped. “What?” she exclaimed in confusion.
Annette smiled. “I’m going to interview you the same way I was interviewed. And no, I didn’t get any warning either. But you have to be ready to take your licks at any time – and you have to keep your head clear while you do. So, this will tell me if you’re really good enough. Can you perform under pressure?”
With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Amanda realised that it was true. She was well aware of what happened in court, having read the transcripts of Annette’s cases. If she couldn’t take the heat, she had no place in the kitchen… At least this way she would find out one way or another. With a nod of assent, she knelt down to remove her shoes and socks, then stood to unfasten her jeans. She pulled them over her slender hips and took them off, revealing high-cut white cotton panties. Without hesitation she slipped them down, displaying the beautiful little pussy Annette had seen the night before. Turning her back, she took a deep breath and bent over, spreading her legs wide and holding her ankles.
“What do we say?” Annette prompted.
“I am ready to be punished ma’am. Please give me what I deserve.”
“That’s better. Remember, you have to be grateful for what you are about to receive!” The cane tapped against Amanda’s small round bottom. “We’ll start with six to get you warmed up. Then I’ll move on to the questions. Ready?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
*CRACK!* The cane bit into soft flesh, making Amanda gasp. But she was no stranger to its bite – the cane was used at uni as well as school. “One, thank you ma’am.”
*CRACK!* Annette swung again.
“Two, thank you ma’am.” Six was a standard punishment at school, and Amanda had received it often. She knew that she could take this – but what was in store after? “To get you warmed up” Annette had said – and the teenager knew that her ass would be very warm by the time she had taken her strokes!
It suddenly occurred to Annette that while she had bent for countless thrashings over the years, she had never given one before. It was certainly more fun on this end! But, as she admired the thin red lines that now accompanied the bruises on Amanda’s sweet little bum, she was discovering that using the cane was harder than it looked. She had aimed for the center of the girl’s buttocks, but the first stroke had gone too high, and the second one too low. She had a new appreciation for David’s skill with the instrument. He could lay six perfectly parallel strokes on one of his employees without any of them touching one other. Of course, he’d had years of practice…
She tapped the cane against Amanda’s chastened cheeks again to help her aim. Drawing back her arm slowly, she swung briskly and flicked her wrist a little more this time.
*CRACK!* This stroke hit close to her aiming point – she was getting better.
“Three, thank you ma’am.” Amanda’s voice was slightly strained, but she seemed to be taking it well so far. The next couple of strokes didn’t phase her, So Annette decided to give the last one her full strength.
*CRACK!*
“Yeow!” A small cry of pain showed that the girl hadn’t been expecting things to escalate. She panted a couple of times before counting off. “Six, thank you ma’am!”
This is just the start! Amanda was beginning to have second thoughts. Both about her choice of career, and about whether the famous lawyer was actually going to give the assistance she had promised. Her enthusiastic use of the cane didn’t seem to match her previous friendly attitude. But if she backed out now, Amanda would have taken six strokes for nothing. She decided it was best to commit to this interview. At worst, she would end up with a throbbing bottom – something she was used to. At best, she might actually have someone who was willing to help her achieve her goals. This wasn’t the first offer she had been given – several of her university lecturers had made it clear that they were in the market for a protogé/mistress, but they were all old, married, and physically repugnant. Amanda had also observed that success in her hopeful line of work didn’t just depend on what you knew – it depended on WHO you knew. Annette was a standout performer in a crowded field, a woman who was experienced in the harsh realities of the courtroom, and who was predicted to have a brilliant career. It was hard to imagine anyone better qualified to teach Amanda the ropes.
She paused to catch her breath. “Thank you for p-punishing me, ma’am,” her voice shook a little.
“Not bad,” Annette said approvingly. “Time to see if you know your stuff. Remember to keep the count! Now then,” she paused to think about her first question. As she did so, she found herself admiring the view in front of her. Amanda’s lips had parted slightly, her slit glistened with moisture, and her tiny rosebud was a beautiful shade of pink. “Are you shaved, waxed, or lasered?”
“What?” was the astonished response.
*CRACK!*
“Ow! S-seven, thank you ma’am!”
“In court, you must be ready for anything!” Annette lectured. “You must never seem surprised, you must never hesitate. You must be calm and collected at all times.” She swished the cane through the air, the sound making Amanda flinch as she anticipated a stroke that never came. “So, are you shaved, waxed, or lasered?”
“I’m lasered, ma’am.”
Excellent! Being lasered meant that her mound would be perfectly smooth at all times. Annette felt a stirring in her nether regions as she imagined how it would feel to run her tongue over the soft skin and investigate that delicious opening… She forced herself to get back to business.
“In what year was the Magna Carter signed?”
“Um, Twelve fifteen.”
Annette gave the pert posterior a couple of warning flicks with her cane, just hard enough to sting. “No ‘um’. No hesitation. Be prompt and definite!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The next few questions were answered more quickly. Now that Amanda had come to terms with this startling turn of events, and been sufficiently inspired by the pain in her tender tushy, her mind was working rapidly. She began to distance herself from the throbbing welts on her behind and was feeling more confident. But her winning streak didn’t last forever.
“What is the speed limit in a school zone?”
“Twenty miles per hour.”
“How many people are on a cricket team?”
“Eleven.”
*CRACK!*
“Ahhh! That’s not fair!” protested Amanda. “I was right!”
“There are TWELVE men on a cricket team,” Annette told her sternly. “Eleven players and one reserve. This is what I mean about preparation. You must know EVERYTHING about your case. Even one small mistake can make the difference between winning and losing.” She felt a bit hypocritical as she said it. She herself had failed to properly prepare for the Karloff trial, missing a couple of details that had been crucial in turning it from certain loss to a famous triumph. While everyone else saw it as a magnificent display of legal prowess, in reality it had been poor preparation that almost lost her the case, saved only at the last minute by a flash of inspiration.
“So, count off!”
“S… seven, thank you ma’am.”
Annette swung again.
*CRACK!*
“OOOOWWW!” Amanda waggled her bottom from side to side as if she could shake off the pain.
“The one BEFORE your incorrect answer was seven! So what was this one?”
SHIT! Amanda desperately tried to count in her head. Seven, then one for being wrong, one for losing count… “N-nine, thank you ma’am!” She swallowed hard. This was a far tougher interview than she had expected!
“That’s better!” Annette smiled in approval. She was enjoying herself far more than she had expected – and felt a little guilty about it. Being on THIS end of the cane was a new experience for her. She had always despised her headmaster for his blatant abuse of the power given to him. She had known early on that he concocted excuses to bend her over his desk – and even blamed her for things that other students had done. Sometimes this had resulted in another set of stripes across her beautiful little backside – other times she had “worked it off” by providing him sexual favours. And yet, now that she found herself in his position, she was behaving the same way! Granted, Amanda wasn’t obliged to take this caning, but the harsh realities of life under the CPA meant that she had little choice if she wanted a good career. Like countless women before her, she had to submit herself to undignified punishment just to give herself a chance.
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
Amanda nearly blurted out the truth, but managed to bite her tongue in time. “Yes ma’am! I love having my ass caned – please give me some more!” She braced herself for another stroke, but it didn’t come. Instead, Annette gently caressed the gorgeous globes that were now streaked with welts. “VERY good!” she said approvingly. “That’s the attitude you’ll need in court. Always be grateful, always be eager to take your swats. As I said, you’ll have to be a HotBot as well as a lawyer.”
She had to resist the urge to slide her fingers into the moist opening that Amanda was presenting to her. How tight was she? How would she taste? Her own pussy was now shamefully wet, fantasies running through her head. She was going to need her dildo tonight – she wanted something hard inside her. Or maybe, Amanda could use the strapon? It had remained unused in her wardrobe for years – kept as a souvenir of her wild times at university. After what she had been through, the girl would doubtless be happy to give Annette a good, solid fucking. It would hurt – but in a good way…
Annette was hornier than she had been for months. She was confident now that Amanda had what it took, that she would be a worthy student. And maybe, one day, she would work with Annette at the Quill and Cane. But only if she gave Annette the satisfaction that she needed!
“Have you ever slept with another woman?” Annette’s heart was pounding as she asked. Please say yes!
“Yes, ma’am.” The answer was quick and unashamed.
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes.”
That one simple word sent fresh thrills through Annette’s body. She was the one! This was truly a perfect match – a partner she could respect, desire, and have a more equal relationship with. In fact, more than equal, since Annette would be the one with the authority. She found herself lost in a sea of emotions – lust, admiration, relief, and (less honorably,) the knowledge that she LIKED being the one to administer corporal punishment. She now understood why her headmaster had caned her so often – why the police treated her the way they did. The simple fact was, power corrupts, and base instincts win over. Her panties were moist now, she could barely wait to take them off and spread her legs so she could take the strapon into her wet, eager pussy. This was going to be a wonderful night!
But first, she had to conclude the interview.
“You’ve done well Amanda,” she told the quietly submissive girl. “I’m going to give you one more test. I’m going to give you another six – and after each stroke, you will count off, and give me the name of a Supreme court Judge. Understand?”
FUCK! Amanda’s mind went into overdrive as she struggled to remember which old fogeys were sitting on the Supreme Court. But it wasn’t an unfair question – it was something a law student should know. There were ten Justices and she only needed six. Her injured rump was trembling in anticipation of more strokes, but if this was the final test she wasn’t going to back out now. “Y-yes, ma’am, I understand.”
“Good. If you can manage this, then I promise to be your mentor.” And your lover! The lawyer added silently.
“Thank you, ma’am! Give it to me hard!” Amanda gritted her teeth and waited for the cane to slice into her tender flesh. While she was dreading what was to come, she also knew that Annette was right. She had to be ready for anything, both physically and mentally. The thought of the cases she had studied, how Annette had raised objections even though she knew they were futile and would get her nothing but a whipped ass. She truly was a HotBot – and she had to practice law at the same time! It was no wonder that the Bare-Bottomed Barristers were held in such high regard. To be bending over several times during a case, and still keep a clear head was a difficult thing indeed…
Annette felt a twinge of guilt as she prepared to administer another harsh caning.
Was she being too hard on Amanda? No, the courtroom was a rough place, and if Amanda wasn’t ready for it then she’d never succeed. It’s for her own good, really… Annette told herself. The simple truth was, the CPA had changed everything, and life would never go back to how it had been before. But that raised another question – one that had been lurking in the back of her mind since her chat with David.
Did she really want it to? ...
