FFE

Katrina Lambert joined her co-workers for dinner and drinks that Thursday.  Apparently, it was a weekly thing and though she passed the first week, she received so much ribbing that she didn’t dare miss it again.

She had recently come to work for FFE as a staff assistant.  The job was wonderful, the best one ever.  It was an employee-owned enterprise so everyone had a stake in the success. The lower salary was compensated for by company shares and fantastic benefits.   It didn’t even seem like work although everyone there worked hard, giving it their all, all the time.  The weekly get-together was a chance to really let loose and FFE footed the tab.  It was a time to let your hair down and let the ideas flow, sometimes enhanced by a little too much imbibing but creative ideas needed an open mind and a receptive audience.  Not to worry, there were always UBER cabs available to take the tipsy to their door.

After Katrina had been working there about two months, one Thursday night her spirit consumption had gone beyond her comfort level.  When she started to leave, a weaving walk to the exit alerted Don Kostas, a fellow worker.

“Katrina, sit down and give me your keys.  I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be driving right now.  I’ll call a UBER for you.”

“No, I’m fine.  Really, I am.”

“No, Katrina, I wouldn’t feel comfortable being on the road with you, so sit down and wait for the UBER.”

“You're silly, Don.  I’m fine.”

“You’re not and we’re not talking about this anymore.  Be a good girl and wait for the UBER.”

Katrina didn’t hand over her keys as Don asked and started, once again, for the door.  This time, Don didn’t hesitate, instead of asking her to sit down, he merely picked her up and brought her back to their booth and sat her down.  Her demeanor had ramped from stubborn to antagonistic.

“I’m not going home in an UBER.  I wouldn’t feel safe.”

“Fine, then.  Sit there until I’m ready to leave and I’ll take you home.  But you are not to have any more alcohol.”

“Who died and made you my daddy?”

“You did when you had one too many.” He motioned for the waiter and asked for a large glass of water and a cup of coffee.”

“I don’t drink coffee,”  She answered.

“You do tonight.”

“All coffee does is provide a wide-awake drunk,” Katrina said sounding a lot more sober than she appeared.

“Then don’t drink the coffee, but you will drink at least two glasses of water.”

“You know what, Don, you are a pain in my ass.”

“I’d like to give you a pain in your ass.  Your behavior definitely warrants a good spanking.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

This whole table had been listening to this exchange between Don and Katrina.  There were a couple of snickers around the table at Don’s last remark. 

“That’s what my husband does.”  Miranda piped up with after this last statement. 

“What does your husband do?” Asked one of the others.

Miranda blushed.  “Makes me drink two glasses of water, of course.  What did you think I meant?” she said with a smile on her face.

“Yeah, I bet,” another person said.  It started an entirely new conversation about the spanking of adults, both men, and women.  Everyone seemed to have a different opinion and it wasn’t just gender related.  Some men didn’t agree with ever striking a woman, no matter what while others thought turning a naughty girl over their knee would resolve a lot of issues.  The women seemed to have the same opinions, with some for spanking and others totally against even the thought of it.  After about an hour of the ball being bounced back and forth, Don stood up to leave. Sometime during the banter back and forth, Katrina had fallen asleep and Don touched her shoulder to wake her.

“Time to go, sleepy head.”

“Just let me sleep here.”

“No darlin’, somehow I don’t think Mallery’s allows that sort of thing.”

He pulled her out of the booth and picked her up.  “Why not throw her over your shoulder, Don, fireman’s style and give her a couple of good whacks on the way to the car,” a co-worker said.

“It’s a helluva idea Bob, but I think I’ll save it for another time.”  There was a lot of oohing and aahing from others as he walked out carrying Katrina, princess style.  It looked amusing with her purse dangling from his wrist and a couple of chuckles accompanied the barbs.

By the time Don arrived at Katrina’s house, she was awake and sober enough to walk to her door.  He unlocked it and said good-night.

“What no good-night kiss or threat?”

“You know, you are one cheeky little lady when you let your hair down.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Get inside before I give you the kiss and act on the threat.”

“Chicken,” she called out as she shut the door.

The following morning, Katrina woke with a bad headache.  It was both the alcohol and remembering her conversation with Don Kostas.  She kept chiding herself for drinking too much and carrying on as she did.  How was she ever going to face everyone once she got to the office?

Other than a few sly looks, not a thing was said.  Katrina was relieved and vowed never to over imbibe again.  Enter Don Kostas

He came to her cubby later in the morning.

“How’s your head this morning Katrina.”

“Two aspirins helped.  Thanks for taking me home last night.”

“You’re welcome.  Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe you’re sorry for being such a brat.”

“I can’t be held responsible for something I may have said or done while under the influence.”

“That is the point.  You were ready to get in your car and drive.”

Although Katrina knew she deserved the lecture, she was getting a little sick of what she considered his overbearing attitude. 

“Fine, Don.  Sorry for upsetting your apple cart.  I get the point now let it drop,” she said in a sarcastic voice.

Katrina put down her head and went back to work.   More than ever now, Don wanted to spank that snarky girl, his hand literally swinging at the air in a spanking motion while walking back to his own cubby. He had a dominant personality and though it was kept under wraps at work, in his personal life, it was his standard.  He had spanked many a naughty bottom, both for punishment and pleasure and made himself a promise that somehow, someway, Katrina Lambert was going over his knee.

What wasn’t generally known was that Don Kostas was one of the founders of FFE.  Only those who worked for the company from the very beginning were aware of his majority stake and he liked it that way.  It allowed everyone to act like a fellow worker and he didn’t get accorded any special treatment.  This was precisely the reason, treading carefully with Katrina Lambert, was necessary no matter his personal feelings.

It had taken a few weeks before Katrina began treating Don the way she did before the incident.  He chalked it up to embarrassment on her part but wasn’t going to let that change his plans.  If the opportunity presented itself, he was bound and determined to take advantage of the chance.

One day, Katrina was working on an issue and needed assistance.  She went to Don because it was his area of expertise.  They worked together on the project until well past everyone else had left for the evening.

“I’m starving and we can finish up in the morning,” Don told her.

“Yes, I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“Want to go over to Mallery’s to get a bite.”

“Sure, thanks for the invite,” Katrina told him.  “I’ll meet you there.  I want to finish up a few things first.”

“I’ll wait.  I don’t like the idea of you being alone in the building.”

“Suit yourself, Don.”  Katrina strolled to her office thinking about whether she was doing the right thing by joining him for dinner.  Did he know she was attracted to him?  She cleaned up her desk and went to the ladies room to freshen up before joining Don in the lobby.

Mallery’s was just a few blocks away and it was such a beautiful evening, they decided to walk rather than drive.  Walking in, they were shown to the usual table. 

“This place is almost like a second home,” Don said.

“Is it?”

“We’ve been coming here for years.  It too is a family business and has been passed down from Jim Mallery to his daughter, Jenna.  It’s comfortable and close to the office so most of our business entertaining has always happened here.”

“Yes, it does have a homey feel.  Until I went to work for FFE, I had never been here.”

They settled in a general conversation and it wasn’t until Katrina order her second drink that she saw the look on Don’s face.

“Don’t worry, Don.  We’re having dinner.  The food will absorb the alcohol.  I promise not to get too tipsy.”

“Good thing.  Know though that if you do you’re not driving and if you give me a hard time, I’m going to do what I said I’d do the last time.”

“Seriously, you actually think you would spank me.”

“Not a doubt in my mind,” he replied.   He watched her shift in her seat as he answered.  His mind started wandering and wondered if Katrina was sending him signals he hadn’t picked up on until now.

“Well, I don’t plan on drinking too much, so you’re out of luck.”

“I don’t know, a spanking can be many things.  Have you ever experienced a spanking as a grown woman?”  He studied her eyes and facial expression.

“Of course not, spanking is for naughty children,  not grown men and women.”

“You’d be surprised, Katrina.  Would you like to experience a spanking as a grown woman?”

“Certainly not.”

“As Shakespeare said, or, at least, I think it was Shakespeare, “me thinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“You think whatever you want, Don, along with Queen Gertrude and William Shakespeare. This part of the conversation is over.   Oh good, here comes the food,” she said.

Don had that knowing smile on his face that made Katrina want to slap him silly.  ‘What was it about this man that made her react this way.’  She’d have to think about this later, right now she was hungry.

Their conversation for the rest of the evening was normal.  They walked back to the parking garage together and said good night. Just two colleagues who had shared a meal. 

Katrina went home and got ready for bed.  Once in bed, she picked up her latest Harlequin romance and lived vicariously through yet another heroine that was way too big for her britches and would be brought to heel by the big burly hero.  She loved reading these types of  stories and had been doing so for years.  Did she want this in real life? She wanted the fantasy, not the reality and she didn’t know how to separate the two?

Was Don offering her a chance to find out and was she being too obstinate to consider his offer or even truthfully answer his question? “Forget about it,” she told herself.  No way - with a co-worker, especially Don.  She was a newbie and loved her job. “Never sleep where you eat,” was something she’d heard all her life.

                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One night after reading one of her steamy romances about a BDSM club, she decided to Google if there was one in her area.  She found a website and searched until she found one that didn’t sound too far out and yet was far enough away so that she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew.  Laughing to herself at this last thought, she threw caution to the winds and wrote down an address.

“How does one dress for these types of clubs?” Checking some websites, the dress code seemed to be whatever you felt comfortable wearing.  In the end, she chose a lacy black bra and thong, a short flirty skirt with an off the shoulder white blouse and a pair of her highest pumps. 

She’d had a couple of glasses of wine before driving to the club to calm her nerves.  She realized she should have called an UBER but it was too late now.  At the door of the club, there was a bouncer checking ID and once inside, being a first time visitor, had to complete a questionnaire, a consent form and sign a waiver absolving  the club from any lawsuits that could arise from the club’s activities. Being a first time visitor and novice to the scene, an escort was assigned to show her around. She was limited to the first floor as a non-member but there was more than enough activity happening to overwhelm her senses. She took time out to sit at the bar and peruse her surroundings before making any choices.

She was having an involved conversation with the bartender when he stopped and said he had to get back to work,  “boss is coming.” he told her.

Katrina looked over toward the staircase and saw the man coming toward them.  He was dressed  all in black - a fitted turtleneck, slacks that were tailored to showcase his physique and wore a black mask that covered his eyes.  Katrina could feel the waves of authority rolling off him as he approached.

“Good evening, Sir.  What can I get you tonight.” The bartender asked.

“The usual.” He replied and turned to her.

“Good evening, I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

Nervous as hell, she managed to stammer out.  “No, this is my first time.”

“I thought so.”

“Do you know all your guests personally?”

“In time, but first timers are usually a little nervous, stick to the bar area and don’t know the protocol for answering questions.”

“I see, and what is the proper protocol for answering questions?”

“Your reply to me should always include a “sir.” Katrina managed to stifle a giggle.

“That will be excused as this is your first visit.  Usually, an infraction of that sort calls for punishment.  That is why you’re here isn’t it?”

“What infraction was that?” Katrina asked cheekily.

“Again, another infraction.”

Katrina, fortified with several glasses of wine before and during this visit, lost her initial nervousness and was becoming more and more irritated with this jackass.

“How can I have an infraction when I don’t even know what you’re talking about?”

“You didn’t listen and I think perhaps you don’t belong here  Let me show you to the door before you encounter someone not as patient as me.”

“I think you’re right.”  Getting up from the barstool  her heel caught in the lower rung and she almost fell to the floor.  The ‘jackass’ managed to hold onto her, preventing the fall, but in the process, her hand accidently moved his mask askew as he attempted to right her. 

“I guess the jig is up,” he said as he fully removed the mask.   “Hello, Katrina.”

There, standing in front of her, was her nemesis  - Don Kostas.

She was tongue-tied and glad for the subdued lighting because she was sure she was as red as a beet.

He looped his arm around her shoulder.  “Let’s go into my office.  I’m sure you have questions.”

She allowed him to guide her to his office.  The office was a room behind the bar and was surprisingly small and bereft of any of the trappings she would have expected.  He sat her on the couch and he took a chair opposite her. 

“Would you care for something to drink, although I think you have had enough alcohol already.”

She looked at him, still not over the shock.  She noted that his air of dominance was not as prevalent as when wearing the mask, but still more so than at FFE.

“So, Katrina.  Why exactly are you here?”

“You”

“Me, that can’t be.”

“Yes, you.  This is embarrassing.”

“Come now, not nearly embarrassing as it would be having this conversation at FFE.”

“You’re right about that but that’s what started this whole thing.  I’m a reader of steamy romances and have been for forever.  It all sounds so wonderful in print, but I’m not sure I want fact, just fiction.  The club seemed like a good place to find the answer.”

“And did you?”

“I learned one thing.  I’m not a Sir type of gal. So, I guess this club scene is not what I’m looking for.  I guess, I just want someone to play with me in a real life scenario.”

“I offered you that option and you most definitely turned me down.”

“Yes, but I turned you down as Don Kostas, my colleague at FFE.  If you were to offer me the option as  ‘The Masked Man’ of  ‘Wink’, I might just change my mind.” 

“So, if I were to ask you right now if you want to pursue a spanking relationship with “The Masked Man’ you’d take me up on my offer.”

“I think I would, yes.  But not here.”

“Then where?”

“At my place.”

They arranged a date for the following evening.  Nervous as a cat all day by the time the doorbell rang, she was at a fever pitch.  Opening the door, she welcomed him in.  He was dressed in well-worn jeans that fit him in all the right places and a white button down shirt with sleeves already rolled up.  He carried a duffle bag in one hand and a Chinese carryout sack in the other.

“What should I call you?  I don’t think I want to call you Don, it would seem too weird and I sure don’t want to call you “The Masked Man?”

“How about Martin?  That’s my middle name.  What do you want me to call you, surely not Katrina.”

“No, just pick a name.  I don’t care.”

“Okay, Miranda.  Do you want to eat first or…?

“I don’t think I could eat right now, my stomach is way too jittery. So where do you want me?

“Let’s go over some things first.  You want a real life experience, is that correct?” Miranda shook her head yes.

“Okay, then you’ll need a safe word.  If, at any time, it gets too much you say the word and I’ll stop.  I want to warn you though if I stop, that’s it, so don’t use it unless you are absolutely sure you’re don’t want any more.  Understand.” 

Miranda nodded her assent. 

Martin sat down on the couch and called Miranda to him.  “I want you to lay across my lap.”  She did as he asked and he moved her around until she was comfortable.

“I’m going to begin by warming up your flesh.  These warm-up spanks will be delivered over your panty clad bottom.  Once the real spanking begins, I will remove your panties and you will be getting a bare bottom spanking.  Do you want a lecture as you’re getting spanked?”

“Whatever you think Martin.” 

“We’ll see how it goes.”  Miranda felt the first blow right in the middle of both cheeks.  Before even having a chance to process the first smack, Martin’s hand fell again and again in a staccato fashion peppering both cheeks, upper and lower.  Miranda sucked in her breath and tried reaching back to shield her now heated bottom.  Martin promptly grabbed both of her hands in a vice-like grip and admonished her that wasn’t allowed, ever.  He continued the assault and when she was sure she couldn’t take anymore, he stopped long enough to pull down her panties.  The spanks rained down on her now bare bottom and she couldn’t believe how much protection those thin little panties had granted.  Martin’s hand was like a machine, hard and fast he delivered one spank after another.  This hurt much more than she ever imagined, but she didn’t want it to stop either.  She was sure flames were coming off her ass and still the spanks continued.

“Do you think you can behave like a good girl now?”  She shook her head.

He stopped spanking, at least, she thought he had.  Her backside was throbbing. She felt him helping her to stand.

“Do you need to stand in the corner to think about why you were just spanked, Miranda.”

“No.”  When she answered, he pulled up her panties and yoga pants, slapping her bottom when he was finished.  She jumped.

“So what did you think, Miranda?

“I think those books are both over and underrated.”

He laughed and started taking the take-out cartons out of the bag.

Katrina began getting out silverware and napkins and placed them on the table.  Strain existed between them.  Who were they, were they still Miranda and Martin or were they back to Don and Katrina?  Not knowing how to resolve the issue, she ignored it and continued getting their dinner on the table.  When they were ready to eat, he pulled out her chair.  When her bottom hit the seat, she winced a bit. 

“Bottom sore, Miranda?

“Yes, Martin.  You flamed my ass and me don’t think I’ve ever experienced that feeling before, certainly not as a grown woman.”

“Is it necessary that you use course language.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why can you not use a word like bottom, behind, backside, rump?  Certainly there are many more words that refer to that beautiful part of your body than ass.”

“I’m sorry I upset your sensibilities.”

“I should think that with your bottom still tender, you might not want to taunt your disciplinarian.”

“Is that what you are?”

“I came here as Martin, and I chastised Miranda.  I think it important that we keep to our roles if we are going to have an ongoing arrangement.  If we stick to these roles, it won’t interfere with our relationship at FFE.  Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, I do.  I wondered how that would work.  So, when we meet as Martin and Miranda, I’m your submissive, so to speak.”

“Yes.”

“Who makes the rules?”

“I make the rules dependent upon your input.  Once the rules are set, they are what they are.  Any changes have to be renegotiated.”

“And what is your going rate?  I assume it’s not free.”

“I’ve never done this on a one-on-one basis unless I was in a personal relationship with someone, so I have no idea.  I don’t need the money, between FFE and the club, my financial needs are more than met, so why don’t we see how it goes and decide before we finalize our contract.”

“And, when will that be?”

“I suggest we do that before we do this again.  Assuming, you want to do this again.”

Katrina flushed with excitement merely thinking about another spanking.  “By looking at you blush, I have my answer.  By the way, you look lovely when you blush, you take on such a tender, innocent look.”  He didn’t want her to know that the look gave him an erection.  This was not a personal relationship, and he didn’t do casual sex.

“Sounds good.  What does your schedule look like this week?”

They set a time and as he was leaving she pressed $30.00 into his hand.  When he opened his hand and saw, he was angry, and it earned her a hard swat on her backside. “I thought we agreed to wait.”

“I thought the least I could do was pay for dinner.  If you don't believe so, you can take it out on my ass the next time.”  That earned her another hard swat on her tush.

“Good night Miranda before I end up taking you over my knee again.”  She smiled at him and once again that flushed look excited him.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know Masked Man, but you fanned the flames of a monster that’s been lurking inside of me for quite some time.”

Somehow Katrina got through the weekend.  Every time she thought about the spanking, or inadvertently brushed her ass, or managed to see the one itsy-bitsy bruise mark that remained, she reached for her rabbit. She went through two sets of batteries in two days.

Dreading Monday morning and seeing Don Kostas at FFE had her contemplating calling in sick.  The reason she didn’t, the thought of being called out by Martin, the Masked Man. That idea seemed more intimidating than actual facing Don Kostas.

Monday morning always began with a staff meeting that outlined the work plan for the week.  She took a seat as far removed from Don’s chair as possible.  She tried avoiding eye contact but each time she looked in that direction, his eyes seemed to be boring into her psyche.  When it became Katrina's turn to discuss her plans for the week, it was a disaster. She looked off into space and stuttered and stammered her way through. 

“Well, let’s hope Ms. Lambert that your work week goes much smoother than your presentation this morning,” Don said.

She felt the color creeping up from her toes and thought about his comment about her blushing.  The fact that she remained seated and didn’t jump up and storm out of the room surprised even her.  ‘This was his fault.  How dare he call her out?’

“Excuse me, Ms. Lambert, did you say something?”

“OMG, I must have said that last thought aloud.” 

“No, I apologize, my mind was elsewhere.” There was quite a bit of snickering around the room, and Katrina couldn’t wait until this damn meeting was over.  When it was, he cornered her in the hall.

“Katrina, while at work keep your focus on your job, nothing else.  Understood.”

She had the greatest urge to say ‘yes, sir,' where did that come from?  Instead, she shook her head.  “It felt a little strange; I’ll get over it.”

“See that you do.” He said in his Masked Man voice and tone.

“That is so not fair.”

“What are you talking about.”

You’re blurring the lines on me.  That was the Masked Man’s voice and tone, not Don Kostas’.”

He smirked and walked away. 

She called him on his remarks and tone.  It was true, he was having difficulty separating one from the other, much like her.  The whole time he watched her in the meeting, he kept thinking about her being across his knee.  Such a righteous bottom and so wanting and grateful afterward. ‘Get out of your own head, asshole.’ he said to himself.

Things did get better as the day and week wore on.  By Thursday evening when they planned to meet to talk over their arrangement, they were almost back to their normal behavior and roles at FFE.

They arranged to meet at the club.  Don and the rest of Wink’s employees used a private entrance, and he asked Katrina to ring the bell when she arrived.  He was on the phone when she arrived, and one of the other Dom’s answered the door.  When he wouldn’t allow Katrina entrance, she became belligerent.  She was in full tirade when Martin arrived at the on the scene.

“What’s going on here?”

“He won’t let me in.”

“And you thought acting like a naughty little girl was going to change things.”

His voice and demeanor screamed out that he was in full Dom mode.  She was humbled.

“Now apologize to Derek and we will discuss your behavior in private.”

When she apologized to Derek, he told her that if she were his submissive, she would have found herself bound,  her bottom bared and thoroughly paddled in full view of everyone on the floor.  Katrina was not Miranda at the moment, and she bit her tongue to keep from telling this jackass just what he could do with himself and further embarrassing the Masked Man.

The Masked Man led her to his office and closed and locked the door. 

“Miranda, take off your clothes and stand in that corner until I’m ready for you.”

“What?”

“You heard what I called you and what I said, now do it.”

“But this is supposed to be a meeting to go over rules.”

“You crossed that line -  you acted like Miranda, and you’re in a BDSM club.  You’re just lucky it’s me and not Derek. Now do what I told you.”

He watched her sputter and although he could almost see the steam coming out of her ears, she obeyed his command. He sat down at his desk and hoped she didn’t notice the huge bulge in his pants.  He had to get himself under control before taking her over his knee.

He pushed his chair back from his desk and called her to him.  She shuffled over toward him, her eyes widening at the sight of a wooden ruler in his hand.  He pulled her over his lap, raising one leg to get her bottom in the best possible position for inflicting his message.  He watched her bottom clench and brought down the ruler with an intensity not usually used in warm-ups. He wanted her to feel the full consequences of her behavior.

SPLAT – the sound of the ruler hitting bare flesh reverberated around the room.

Miranda winced at the sting of the first strike of the ruler.  ‘What happened to the warm-up?’  Spanked on a bare bottom by a ruler was not what she had in mind when she went to the club that night.  It was only supposed to be a ‘business type’ meeting to go over their contract. SPLAT, the ruler struck again. ‘Damn, I’ll remember never to set foot in the club again, no matter what.  Obviously, my ass is on the line, and I have to be on my best behavior to everyone here. Whoa.” The ruler found its target again.

Martin kept delivering spank after spank until Mirando was no longer able to process any thoughts beyond the pain of the spanking.  She reached the point where her ass was numb and no longer felt the strikes the individual spanks, only the overall pain.  Giving into the pain, her body relaxed.  Martin felt it and stopped the spanking.

“Are you okay?”

“You mean other than the fact that my ass is on fire and I’ll won't’ sit comfortably for quite some time.”  He laughed.

“Yes, that.”

“Yes.”

“Good, we’re halfway through this lesson,” he said.

“What do you mean, halfway…,  as the ruler found its mark again.  She never finished the statement, only sucked in a breath as the pain returned and she tried getting off his lap.

“Stay still, or you’ll get hurt.”

“I am hurt.”]

“Obviously not enough because you’re still talking and not at all respectfully.”

“Goddam that hurts,” she said as the ruler moved to her right thigh.  The left thigh was the next to feel the pain, and she practically rolled herself onto the floor.  If Martin hadn’t grabbed hold, she would have rolled herself right out the door.

“That’s going to cost you extra,” he told her. 

Martin was doing what he loved best and thoroughly enjoyed watching lily white globes turn a rosy red color.  It was his fetish and had been since puberty.  The club was his way of feeding that fetish.  He’d tried it in a personal relationship, a time or two, but the relationships always ended badly.  When he saw the advertisement for a financial partner in a business venture involving a BDSM club, he couldn’t believe the luck.  He stepped in, and he and Derek Andrews began Wink.  It turned out more successful than they had even anticipated.  With Derek as the managing partner, Don/Martin was free to participate or not in the club’s events. He had a few clients on his preferred list but mostly just came to the club when he needed to relieve some angst.  Spanking a bottom had always done that for him.

Miranda's bottom had that beautiful shiny rosy glow, and he knew it was time to stop. She had stopped squirming and complaining a few strokes back, so he knew she was more than ready.  He wondered if she knew how turned on she was by this punishment.  Her inside thighs were glistening with her juices.  They hadn’t discussed anything other than spanking.  He wondered if she expected more. He’d never crossed that line before and wasn’t sure he wanted to explore that possibility in a ‘business deal’.

“The spanking is over, only the apology is left,” he told her and began rubbing her back as he pulled her up to sit on his lap being careful to ease her down and position her so that her bottom was not touching him.  Her hair was a mess and her face almost as red as her butt and blotchy to boot. Tears were running down her cheeks, and he had the greatest urge to kiss them away. ‘Stop it,” he told himself.

Katrina enjoyed being comforted until she looked down and saw the wetness of her thighs.  She quickly jumped off his lap, wincing as her bottom scraped along the roughness of his jeans. Now, not only was her ass red but her face was just as red from embarrassment.  Catching sight of herself in the mirror along the back wall of his office, she buried her face in her hands.

Martin pointed to his washroom and excused himself, telling her he’d be back in about fifteen minutes. Katrina stumbled into the bathroom.  Her legs so stiff, she could barely walk and every step re-ignited the burn in her backside.  Closing the door behind her, and looking over her shoulder,  saw her striped backside and knew she would be feeling this spanking long into the night and probably into the next day.  ‘Is this really what I want,’ she asked herself.

Her brain said one thing but other parts of her body turned mutinous.  How could she possibly be so sexually excited about the pain and humiliation she had just experienced. She’d read about it in books but never assumed it happened in real life, only in novels. Cautiously, she let her fingers trace the angry red lines on her ass.  The lightest touch hurt, but when she moved her fingers to her vagina,  the excitement began to build and the pain blended with the pleasure. Before she even realized what was happening she was stroking harder and harder and on the verge of orgasm when the door burst open and Martin appeared.

“What do we have here?” His presence and authoritative tone immediately squashed her orgasm. 

“Get out,” she yelled, “ and close the door behind you.”

“You forget, Miranda, this is my washroom and my club, and I can do any damn thing I please. Now come out and apologize to Derek and this whole thing can be forgotten.”

“You have got to be kidding.  There is no way I am coming out and apologizing to Derek, at this minute, in this state.”

“Miranda”

“I have not signed, nor agreed to anything, so I am not obligated to jump at your command.  The answer is no.  I will apologize when I’m ready and dressed. Now close

the door behind you and leave me be. I am speaking as Katrina, not Miranda.”

“Then you leave me no choice but to have you escorted out of the club.”

“Suits me fine, now let me get dressed,” she said and closed the bathroom door leaving him standing there, looking very much like Don Kostas and not Martin, the Masked Man.

Katrina wasn’t sure what to make of what happened.  Upset at the idea of him wanting Derek to see her in the current state let her know a submissive’s life was not for her. There is no way she would allow herself to be humiliated like that.  The fact that Martin expected that made her rethink everything.  ‘Why the hell did I ever get myself embroiled in this situation.  Now I have to go to work and face him or quit a job I really like.”

When she finished dressing and stepped back into the office, it was empty.  Picking up her purse she walked toward the back door and pushed it open.  Immediately, lights began flashing and the alarm  blared out its emergency warning.  She didn’t stop to even look around, simply kept moving forward toward her car.  Half expecting someone to grab her from behind, she expelled a sigh of relief when she got in the car and hit the automatic lock button. 

As she drove away, Don Kostas was standing at the exit door and waved as she went passed.

Katrina spent the rest of the night rehashing what had occurred at the club.  It didn’t help that she was hungry, and there wasn’t a thing in the house to eat.  Swallowing a sleeve of soda crackers and some canned cheese didn’t do anything but give her an upset stomach.

She decided just to go to bed but sleep alluded her and when dawn began to creep in her bedroom window, she decided to call in sick was the best option, after all, she really did feel sick to her stomach.   ‘I’ll have three days to come to terms with what I’m going to do about this work situation.’

                                                    

After calling work, she went back to bed and finally slept.  It wasn’t until hearing a persistent knocking did she realize it was real and not a dream.  It was 9:30 – who the hell was at the door at 9:30 on a Friday morning.  She grabbed her robe and went to the door. Before opening, she checked the peep hole; Don Kostas stood there with a bag in one hand and Starbuck’s cups in another.

“Go away,” she told him.

“No, we have to talk, and I’m not going anywhere until we do.”

“I don’t want to speak to you.”

“I know that, but put on your big girl pants and face the music.”  Now, instead of knocking, he was laying on the doorbell and the sound was exacerbating the pounding in her head.  Finally, giving in, she unlocked and opened the door.  He pushed past her and went to the kitchen, putting the cups and bag on the table. 

“Sit down,” he ordered.

“Don, this is my house and I don’t need to take orders from you.”

“I’m sorry.  Please sit.  I’m sure you haven’t had breakfast.  Let’s eat and then we can talk about what happened and what’s going to happen next.”  He pulled out a chair and waved her into the seat.  When her bottom hit the seat of the chair there was a hint of soreness, it surprised her and she winced a little as she squirmed to find a more comfortable position. She hoped she didn’t let it show, but a look at his face and that little smirk gave her the answer.    After pushing her chair close the table, he began opening the bags.

He pulled out bagels, cream cheese, and lox.  It was one of her favorite breakfasts and any resolve she had about not eating anything flew right out the window. He uncapped her favorite Mocha Java and she totally caved.  Resisting bagels, lox, cream cheese and Mocha Java was more than she could resist, even if she wasn’t starving.

After eating, Don pushed back his chair.  “Let’s talk about your calling in sick. Are you really ill?  The way you delved into breakfast, it wouldn’t seem so.”

“I didn’t have dinner last night and had a horrible night’s sleep.  There was no way I felt going into work was in my or FFE’s best interest.”

“Good reasoning, do you feel better now?”

“I guess.  I finally fell asleep after calling in so I slept a couple of hours before you woke me.  I think I needed the food too.  Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.  My question to you is are you going to allow what happened last night to ruin your life?”

“Ruin my life, no. I’ve not come to any concrete decisions except that I am not, nor will I ever be a submissive.  I don’t want to be.  Asking me to apologize to Derek in the state I was in,  pushed me over the edge.  In my mind, that wasn’t submission, that was humiliation and I couldn’t believe anyone who cared anything about me would knowingly embarrass me in that way.”

" I apologize, I was totally out of line and treated you as a member of the club, which you’re not.  Can you accept my apology and put the whole incident behind us?"

“Don, I accept your apology.  As for forgetting the whole incident, I’m not sure.  Now that I’m a little more rested and thinking clearly, I think I can.  However, I want to take the weekend and you’ll have my answer by Monday.”

“What answer is that?”

“The answer to whether or not I’ll be looking for another job." 

“Is that all?"

"No, but it's all tied together."

"Speaking as Don Kostos, FFE colleague,  I hope you’ll be back.  I promise I’ll be on my best behavior as Don Kostas, not Martin the Masked Man. As for the rest..."

With that, he stood, cleaned up the breakfast remnants and walked toward the door.

“Until Monday then,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

Katrina stood there looking at the closed door and thinking that his departure, this time, was certainly different than the last.  There was a lot at stake and she had a lot of thinking to do before Monday.