Over the Knee



 
Over the Knee:
Spanking Stories
2008-03-11
What you can't do (Spanking)

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(c) 1998 - 2004 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not
to be read by minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are
underage then don't read. Contains allusions to naughty, erotic
goings on. Can be freely distributed as long as it is not changed,
including this heading. If it is to be archived on a fee paying
archive then please email me first for permission. Note that the
characterizations are mine. I do not like people stealing them for
inclusion in their own efforts.

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want put into words etc. Don't flame me if you don't like the content
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"Look Elaine can't we discuss this at home? You know important tonight
is to me."

She tossed her long silken mane and pouted, "Hah! And I'm not I
suppose."

He sighed. "Be reasonable Elaine we've had all week to discuss this,
so why wait until we're going to dinner with the firm's most important
client before bringing it up?"

"Because I wanted to," she sniffed "anyway we hardly ever talk to each
other any more."

"What? Oh come on. We've only just come back off holiday. We spent the
whole week together."

"That was two weeks ago. Since then you've always been busy."

"I told you I would be. I had to put together this proposal. It's a
big deal for the company. It could make or break us."

"You and that firm. That's all you think about."

"We've been through this again and again. Its my livelihood Elaine,
its what pays for the big house and the holidays in the Bahamas. If we
get this job then we'll be able to relax a bit more and I can spend
more time with you. If not," he shrugged, "I might end up spending a
lot more time at home. On a permanent basis."

"So you're blaming me for the loss of the contract already?"

"God you're in a difficult mood tonight. What's gotten into you?"

"See! Its always my fault."

"Oh for heavens sake. I never said that. Look we're here now. Let's
call a truce eh? At least until this meal is over."

"Huh!" she snorted.

They made a handsome couple strolling into the restaurant together,
her hand resting lightly on his arm. Him, tall and patrician, fifty
years old but still lean and firm. Her, tall, curvy and pretty. And at
least 20 years younger.

The customer, a Mr Jemway from Manchester and his rather plump wife,
stood and greeted them as they neared the table.

"Hi Bob. I'd like you to meet my wife Elaine. Elaine, this is Bob and
his wife....er?"

"Anthea. Pleased to meet you my dear."

The handshakes were brief but formal.

"Please take a seat," said Bob as he waved them towards the vacant
chairs.

They were sitting on a small dais overlooking the dance-floor. It was
one of the best tables in town and it had cost him a pretty penny, but
it was worth it to secure this order. They'd worked through the
technical specifications earlier that day and had put together the
final costings. Everything looked like it was in place, but Bob had
suggested that they had a few minor details to clear up before they
finalized the deal.

So this was both business and pleasure.

The meal started off well enough. The Smoked Salmon melted in the
mouth and the Canard au sauce poivre was delicious. It wasn't until
they were onto their final coffees that the problems started.

"Look Len. Let me put this to you straight. I like you and I like the
proposal that you've put together for us. But one thing bothers me."

"What's that Bob?" Instantly alert.

"This is a big job for you. The biggest you've ever had," he waved his
hand. "I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't check these things out
now would I? Anyway, I'm a bit concerned that you are over-stretching
yourselves. Are you?"

"That's a fair question Bob," he smiled "let me set your mind at rest.
We've got the financial backing, we've got at least a dozen
contractors on tap ready to join us when the project gets into full
swing and we've got the company infrastructure to back it up. We've
been working towards this size of project for a long time. Its central
to our business model and well within our focus. I know we could do
you proud Bob."

"Well put, but the thing that's bothering me is whether or not you can
control the sub-contractors. I've had dealings with them before, when
the last company had the contract, and they cut up pretty rough. We
ended up going over budget and well over the target launch date."

Before Len could speak Elaine butted in. "If it involves discussing
things with them then I doubt it."

There was a stunned silence.

Bob broke it by asking, "what do you mean?"

"He can't even talk to me....."

"Look Elaine, this is not the..."

"Am I detecting an undercurrent here?" enquired Bob.

"Yes," she jutted her chin, "He's spent so much time on this contract
he hasn't had any time for me. He won't even talk to me."

"That's the way it is with business sometimes Elaine,"

"Well I don't like it," she said petulantly.

"Look Elaine I told you we'd discuss this at home."

"Huh! Like when I next see you, whenever that is."

"Elaine you are showing yourself up. Let us discuss this later ok?"

"Showing myself up! Showing you up you mean."

"Shut up Elaine."

"FUCK YOU!" she screamed, "Don't you tell me what to do!"

The whole restaurant went quiet and stared across at them. She sat
there, highspots of colour on her downy cheeks and her eyes flashing
like beacons. Bob sat looking thoughtful and his wife looked plain
embarrassed.

"Look I think maybe we should discuss this tomorrow," said Bob.

"Yeah that's right. You can sod off too!"

Bob started to push his chair back to stand.

The order was slipping from Len's grasp.

All that work down the drain.

He saw red.

Blind anger, hot and fresh, bubbled up in him. His vision focused down
on her, the blood pounding in his temple as she sat there smirking,
looking pleased with herself. A petulant spoiled brat from a rich
family, a girl who has never wanted for anything. Now the centre of
attention again. Where she felt she belonged by right.

He'd show her what its really like to be the centre of attention.

Len reached over and grabbed her arm forcefully.

"GET OFF, leave me alone!" She screamed.

He ignored her, jerking her out of her chair towards him.

She started to beat his chest with her free hand while she screamed
invective at him. He was oblivious to everything. His customer, the
clientele in the restaurant, the staff, everything. He pulled her face
down across his knee.

By now her legs were pistoning wildly but were constrained by the
fullness of her long dress. He'd soon remedy that. He pulled up her
skirt over her flailing legs.

"Let go of me. What are you doing. Let go. Let me go!"

She wasn't wearing any hose so the flesh of her finely tuned thighs
was exposed to the whole restaurant, who watched the action unfold
with bated breath. Everyone could now see her pumping legs clearly and
her gleaming white satin panties which were molded to her delicious
behind like they had been sprayed on.

"You can't do this," she cried as she tried to push her dress down
with her free hand.

"I can and I will," He muttered." You've been asking for this for a
very long time."

With that he grabbed the waistband of her panties and ripped them
bodily from her.

"Rape! Rape!" She screamed, but no-one bothered to intervene on her
behalf.

With one hand he held her arm behind her back and the other he lifted
high.

CRACK!

His hand splatted full across her asscheeks, sinking into the
compliant flesh briefly before springing back.

"YOW...OW...OW!" She screamed.

CRACK!

Another full blooded cut and another hand-shaped crimson streak across
her alabaster buns.

"You're hurting me!"

"That's the general idea," he muttered grimly as he lifted his arm
again. High above his head.

CRACK!

CRACK!

CRACK!

The strokes were remorseless and without mercy. Hard, fast and furious
as they transformed her bottom from a delicate pink, through firemen
red through to a deep crimson.

And still she kicked and screamed.

And still he smacked.

Until at last she slumped across his knees. All the fight had left
her. It was pointless to carry on. She had learned her lesson.

And learned it well.

He let go of her and she tumbled to the floor, both of her hands
trying desperately to soothe her blistered cheeks. Her dress was still
twisted around her waist and all thoughts of modesty had fled from her
as she tried to come to terms with her throbbing rear.

He reached down tenderly and pulled her up until she was standing
before him.

"Are you sorry?" He asked mildly.

She nodded, her face turned modestly towards the floor, hands still
clutching her rear beneath her dress.

"Let me hear you say it."

She looked up, tears streaming from her eyes. "I'm sorry Len. I'm
sorry Bob. Sorry Anthea," she hiccuped.

"Good girl," he said. "Right! I suggest you go and get freshened up."

"Thank you Len," she gulped then hurried away.

As she crossed the dancefloor the other diners stood and clapped her,
causing her cheeks to burn brighter than her toasted butt.

Len took a deep swig of his wine. The contract was blown, but what the
hell. At least he had had some satisfaction out of it. He looked
across at Bob.

Who was smiling broadly.

"Now THAT is the sort of affirmative action I like to see," he
chuckled.

Rather taken aback Len glanced over at Anthea expecting her
approbation but was instead greeted with a warm smile.

"You look surprised Len," she smiled.

"I am rather."

"Well don't be. I remember a scene a few years ago, in a shopping mall
if I recall...." Then it was her turn to blush as Bob winked
conspiratorially.

"Listen Len. I think you have settled the last of my objections and
I'm pleased to tell you that I will recommend you for the job when we
have our board meeting next week."

"Thanks Bob. I'm sure it'll be a great partnership."

"I do too," He said.

They were still shaking hands as a shame faced and thoroughly
chastised young woman made her way gingerly back to the table.

"Do you mind if I don't sit down?" she winced.

"Not at all," smiled Bob. "Listen why don't you two go home. I'll
settle the bill."

Both Bob and Anthea smiled as the couple left the restaurant arm in
arm.

They never even made it out of the parking lot.

Anthea clung to Bob's arm as they surveyed the steamed up windows and
the bouncing springs on the far side of the lot.

"It takes you back doesn't it?" Laughed Bob.

"It certainly does," she replied with a mock wince.

They both laughed and strolled across to their car.

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