The Tawse

Catherine opened her blouse, all too aware of the two pairs of eyes lingering on her. In a way, it was almost an everyday occurrence, but she'd never quite get used to it - she'd grown up in a rather different world.

She took her blouse off and put it on a nearby desk, neatly folding it in the process. She slipped out of her shoes, and then her skirt was next. Her bra followed, her annoying, somewhere-between-C-and-D-no-bra-ever-fit-her-perfectly breasts spilling out of it. She glanced up for a moment. Mr Greene prided himself on his impartiality and fairness, but he was still a man, and it was obvious that he didn't mind the view. He probably hadn't had anyone getting him off since before leaving for work, either.

She proceeded to take off her knickers and finally her stockings as well, then stood straight again, hands demurely folded behind her back.

Mr Greene stepped closer, one hand moving across her left breast. Catherine winced.

"Already been disciplined?" Mr Greene asked, his hand moving over the handful of stripes Catherine's husband's switch had left on it.

"Mark - my husband - feels that my discipline at work benefits from being done atop of switch marks," Catherine explained, still wincing.

Mr Greene raised his eyebrows. "Well, he's not wrong about that... I hope it's not daily, though."

"It isn't. He adds new ones as the old ones fade. It takes a few days."

"Good." Mr Greene stepped back. "Bend over the desk. I'll use the tawse."

"Yes, sir." Catherine did as ordered, trying not to look at Chloe, who was still standing at attention herself. She wondered whether the girl was in for some discipline herself, or whether her assistant was simply meant to wat-

"YEEOOOWWWWWW!" and with the first stroke, any thoughts other than the experience of the tawse striking her still-fresh switch marks left Catherine's mind.

It took a few seconds, then the second stroke hit her. Catherine yelled again, though she did manage to remain in position. For how long was a different question, though.

Mr Greene seemed to wonder the same thing. "Chloe. Please restrain Catherine's hands. You'll also find a ballgag in the right drawer. Apply that one to your tutor as well."

"Yes, sir."

Catherine heard Chloe's footsteps, then saw her assistant's skirt in front of her. She didn't dare looking further up as Chloe tied her hands to Mr Greene's desk.

"Right drawer, Chloe. Right is where your left thumb is."

"I'm sorry, Mr Greene."

Catherine obediently opened her mouth to accept the gag Chloe had since produced from the correct drawer. It wasn't an additional punishment - at least, not yet - but rather relief. Chloe didn't take more than a few seconds to fasten it, then disappeared around the desk again.

"I'll let you off with a warning this time," Mr Greene said. "But try to keep directions part in the future, okay? This tawse can be applied to your palms, too."

"Yes, Mr Greene," Chloe said, audibly relieved. "Thank you."

Then Catherine felt her supervisor's attention turning back to her. In a very literal sense, even, as she once more felt a line of fire exploding on her buttocks. The stroke after hit her thighs, making her legs flail, her **** screams muffled by her gag.

Six more strokes followed. Tears were starting to streak down Catherine's face. Certainly, she'd had far longer spankings - her husband didn't even consider ten strokes with the hairbrush the beginning of a spanking - but her supervisor's heavy tawse applied on top of her still-fresh switch marks nevertheless left an impression. A much bigger one than a hairbrush could, stroke for stroke.

Another set of footsteps, then Chloe quickly undid Catherine's restraints and her gag. Catherine gasped, but didn't yet get up from the desk.

"You can leave now, Chloe," Mr Greene said. "Try to avoid the situation your tutor is in right now as much as possible. It won't always work, but it hurts a lot less to at least try."

"Yes, Mr Greene." The door opened. Closed again.

For several long seconds, nothing happened, then Catherine could feel her supervisor's hand on her buttocks, following the marks the tawse had left on her. Catherine was reminded of the look Mr Greene had given her earlier, when she'd taken off her bra. She guessed the man needed some relief, now, though she was surprised he hadn't kept Chloe around for that.

"I don't want to be rude and intrude on your husband's rights - I assume he makes sure that you don't get unduly excited when used by other men? Else I shall refrain."

"Yes, sir. I'm on No-O."

As the world had changed and women's discipline had become commonplace in the context of work and the public alike, it hadn't been to anyone's surprise that men started to take advantage of women in other ways, too. As much as spankings and other disciplinary methods were meant for discipline, few people pretended that having a naked woman bend over in front of oneself to receive discipline wasn't also something intensely sexual.

The problem occurred when women enjoyed that second aspect a little too much. Spankings were supposed to be discipline, and any other use afterwards was meant to satisfy men's needs when aroused by the discipline they'd applied. Women also taking pleasure from their discipline or the aftermath was considered distinctly counterproductive. The idea was to punish, not to please.

The solution had come in the form of anti-orgasm gels, commonly called No-O or O-Go (people hadn't yet decided which version they preferred). The effect lasted for about a month and prevented the female orgasm (though not arousal). Husbands could also code the gel to their seminal fluids, allowing their wives to experience orgasms from them, and only from them, though not everyone did so. Then again, neither did everyone use the gels in the first place, though their popularity was rising rather quickly.

Mr Greene certainly seemed satisfied with Catherine's reply. His hand moved from Catherine's buttocks to between her legs, exploring her folds. A few moments later, and his hands were replaced by his manhood. Catherine bit her lips, and then she felt the first thrust, entering her with little warning.