Dream S

This story is based on an outlined idea provided by Brandnewbuddy whom I would like to thank for providing it. If you like the story, then he is responsible. If you don't like it, then I must take the blame for writing it.

The story contains elements of shaming, mind control, and consensual and semi-consensual corporal punishment including spanking, strapping, and caning. If any of these offend you, be warned, and please do not read on.

This is a story where none of the characters depicted are real. They are a product of the author's imagination, and any similarity to real people living or dead is purely coincidental.

All protagonists are over the age of eighteen years.

As always, any spelling or grammatical errors are mine alone. They are inevitable. I do not aspire to write for a living, only for fun.

Thank you in advance for voting or commenting.

Dream(s)

Miss Cross

I am Margaret Cross, a thirty-five-year-old senior office manager in a large firm of solicitors based in a city in the north of England. I am well suited to my job, and if I say so myself, I am an important cog in the wheel of Bradshaw, Walker, Mason, Freeman, and Davison. Around town, the firm is known as Bradshaw's.

Mr Bradshaw, the senior partner is an old-fashioned gentleman who always wears a blue pinstriped suit with a white shirt and a dark blue tie. He is punctilious in his habits with a neat moustache and well-trimmed nails, and he expects the office to be run with military efficiency.

My relationship with Mr Bradshaw has remained unchanged since we first met and is cordial but formal. He addresses me as Miss Cross, and I call him Mr Bradshaw and address the other partners the same way. One of the partners tried to call me Margaret once but I made it plain that I do not encourage familiarity in the office. Private lives should not intrude on what we do at work. They should stay where they belong, at home.

At work, I am efficient and aloof. Like Mr Bradshaw, I expect everything to run like a Swiss watch. Appointments are timed to the second, invoices are paid on time (never too late or too early), telephone messages must be actioned the same day, the filing must happen quickly and accurately, and correspondence be answered on time.

My work clothes are appropriate for a solicitors' office, a black pencil skirt with a white blouse and a black Jacket, with black stockings and simple flat black shoes. I wear my long black hair tied up neatly in a bun, understated pink lipstick, and clear nail varnish.

I do not like tardiness, mess, untidiness, small talk, and inefficiency. Staff that Bradahaw's employ to work in my office soon learn what is expected of them. They shape up or ship out.

By now you may be asking why anyone would want an office job at Bradshaw's if I am to be their boss. The answer is simple. The jobs are well-paid and include a generous holiday allowance and health insurance. As an added incentive there is a fully equipped gym on the top floor of the building that the firm shares with six others. This is free for Bradshaw's employees to use, outside of office hours of course.

I know that I am demanding, and, until recently, I believed that I was fair and that my bark was worse than my bite. Now I'm not so sure, but more of that later.

***

Margaret

At home, I am a very different person from the one who goes to work. We all have our secrets. and home is where I keep mine.

Every evening when I get home from work I let my hair down, draw myself a hot bath, and wash away the stresses of my day. Then I don a silk kimono and pour myself a glass of cold white wine while I prepare my dinner. This is the time when I can be myself, alone and away from prying eyes.

I did not return to an empty flat until six months ago. Back then, my lover, Annie, would meet me at the door. On weeknights, invariably, she would already be preparing supper, after which we would watch television, or listen to music and read before bed. Weekends were our time for going out: shopping, to the cinema, theatre, or occasionally the pub.

I did not like to go out much. I was too scared of being seen with Annie and had a strict rule.

No holding hands or signs of affection in public.

***

I did not and do not want people to know that I am gay. More particularly I do not want Mr Bradshaw to know I am gay - enough said. As for people, it's a little bit more complicated.

I am not ashamed of what I am, but I am a very private person with a small number of good friends, and I wish to pass through life unnoticed. It is my experience that average heterosexual couples attract little attention. Unless they are beautiful or famous nobody wonders what they are like in the sack.

I am lesbian and very beautiful indeed. If folk learn I am gay I would attract more attention than I want. I have heard the comments men make about attractive gay women - comments such as, "What a waste."

Well, I can assure you that Annie never thought that once.... when I was fucking her.

***

I am five feet ten inches tall with an hourglass 38-27-39 figure. My skin is flawless milky white and when I let my hair down it is black and wavy and falls to my shoulders. I have dark brown eyes with twenty-twenty vision. I do not need the glasses that I wear at work.

Just to add to the package, I adore sex. When I lived with Annie we fucked most days during our eighteen months together. Annie loved to watch porn videos whilst I fucked her in the doggy position with a strap-on. I loved to watch porn too.... But of a different type..... I still do.

I am a sexual sadist. For years, I dreamed of one day giving a hard bare-bum caning to another woman. In my fantasies I saw her tied down naked, her big bare bottom bent over in front of me, trembling in anticipation before I flogged her with a rattan cane. The caning was a severe punishment for an imagined sin such as infidelity.

I never imagined it would happen. Female gay masochists are uncommon and do not move in the same circles that I do. I feared my dream would stay just that....an impossible dream.

Nonetheless, I loved to watch femdom videos while Annie saw to me. Naked, legs spread wide, and my feet planted on each arm of a leather armchair I would watch porn on the sixty-five-inch wall-mounted flat-screen tv in the lounge. As a naked Amazon, tits wobbling, applied a leather strap, paddle, or cane to a pair of taut naked buttocks, and the recipient struggled and screeched, Annie would variously lick my clit. put her fingers or a dildo in my cunt or use a wand vibrator. As, on the screen in front of me, the flogging progressed, and the victims' suffering grew so did my pleasure. Sticky with sweat and my juices, with my arse stuck to the leather I would come over and over again, a dozen times or more, trembling writhing, and groaning in mindless ecstasy until I could take no more.

***

All good things come to an end and six months ago so did my relationship with Annie. I can't blame her, but she got fed up waiting for me to come out. She doesn't mind the world knowing about her, but I still did and do, I believe my "kink" was not the reason that she walked away. Spanking needs to be consensual and Annie was no masochist.

So, for whatever reasons, with regret, at least on my part, we went our separate ways.

In the months that followed, when I was horny it was me, my toys, and my porn videos.

***

David

I have a very troublesome neighbour who is very unpopular with all the tenants in the building where I live and concerning whom numerous complaints have been made to no avail. David is a young guy in his mid-twenties who lives alone on the ground floor of the block of flats. His habitual antisocial behaviour is playing music too loud at three in the morning or parking his car in other people's parking spaces, then one evening he added another to the list.

One day about six weeks ago, I arrived home after work, parked my car, and was walking past the communal refuse bins when a newspaper covered in grease and oil was blown by a gust of wind from a cardboard box standing on the ground nearby and wrapped itself around my chest and face. I pulled it off and was shocked to see my expensive silk blouse was ruined and my jacket heavily soiled.

I placed the paper back in the box from which it had come and could see that it was full of oily rags and paper. The box had been carelessly discarded by one of the skips and it would have been the work of a moment to place it inside. I wondered who could do such a stupid lazy thing, until I saw an address label on the side of the box, and I knew.

I was livid, went to David's flat to complain, and hammered on his door, but there was no reply. I knew that he was in because his car was in the parking lot and I could hear music playing inside, but he was unwilling to face me.

I was still upset when I climbed into bed that night and promptly fell asleep. That night I had an extraordinary dream. At first, it was so vivid that I thought I had woken, but the content made that impossible.

In the dream I watched myself walking past the bins and the newspaper blowing across my chest and face. This time, David was standing not far away, and I crossed to him and spoke. I remember the conversation clearly.

"You've ruined my blouse, you fucking wanker. I want you to pay for it."

"Why should I? The wind blew it."

"You left it there. You should have put the box in the bin."

"I was busy."

"You fucking gripper."

"He looked at me blankly."

"'You don't know what a gripper is?' I asked. A lazy wanker. Describes you perfectly. Now take your trousers and underpants down and grip your dick. Wankers should wank."

He looked at me, turned, and walked away. I heard myself shout after him.

"This is my dream and in my dream, you do what I want. Now come back here.... and wank."

Reluctantly, he did as he was told and stood naked from the waist down. In his hand, he held his penis, a tiny, shrivelled thing.

"Put it away," I said, in my most disgusted tone of voice." You could never satisfy a woman with that."

For the first time, I became aware that our altercation had disturbed the neighbours who were leaning out of their windows watching us while laughing at him and cheering me on.

***

Every detail of the dream was fresh in my mind when I awoke on Friday morning. I was no longer angry but remember wishing that things like that could really happen. After that, I forgot about it and got ready for work.

Several days later, I saw David standing by his car, as I parked mine. I had still not spoken to him about paying for a new blouse and the cost of dry-cleaning my jacket. He seemed very uneasy when I approached him, and surprisingly, he apologised for his mistake and asked me to invoice him for however much it cost. I couldn't help myself and sneaked a quick look at his crotch, and I could swear his embarrassment grew.

The day after that, a neighbour I had never spoken to saw me in the corridor, smiled, and gave me a thumbs up.

After the night of my dream, he never again played loud music.

***

Miss Smart

A month ago, on a Friday afternoon. Mr Bradshaw asked me to speak to him privately in his office. I knocked on his door and waited.

"Come in Miss Cross," he said.

Then, when I entered.

"Please sit."

I sat down and waited for him to speak He cleared his throat and started to talk.

"Miss Cross, on Monday morning we have a new employee starting work in the office. I understand that ordinarily there would have been a formal interview process and that you would have been involved. I apologise for not asking your opinion since you will be her immediate superior and she will report to you, but the circumstances of her appointment are not usual."

He paused and I nodded before he continued.

"Miss Janine Smart is the niece of Mr Walker. She is twenty-five years old and has just spent two years travelling. Before that, she completed a rather average degree in history. Mr Walker tells me that she is the daughter of his sister and arrived home two weeks ago with no money and no plans. She was planning to live off her parents, but her father has told her that is not an option. By all accounts, she is lazy and lacks discipline. Mr Walker feels that working in the office with you as her boss might be beneficial to her. Miss Smart has been told not to tell anybody about her relationship with Mr Walker and that she will have no special treatment. Furthermore, she has been told she must complete a one-year probationary at the office before a large sum of money will become hers. I do not know the details, nor do I wish to.

I will be blunt with you, Miss Cross, I thought long and hard before bringing this young woman into the office but one day Mr Walker will be senior partner. She is his family......"

***

Just after nine o'clock the following Monday morning, I was sitting at my desk when Mr Walker entered accompanied by a young woman whom I assumed was his niece.

"Good morning, Miss Cross," he said. "I'm told you spoke to Mr Bradshaw. May I introduce Miss Smart?"

"Hello, Miss Smart. Do sit down."

She sat while Mr Bradshaw remained standing.

"I'll leave you to it," he said, before walking to the door and closing it behind himself.

Sitting in front of me, was one of the most physically attractive women I have ever seen. She was perfectly imperfect. Her facial features were sharp and angular with high cheekbones and full lips. Her eyes were almost black, the colour of her short neatly cut hair.

What do people call you?

"Janine."

"You may call me, Miss Cross."

I pushed the button on my intercom.

"Moira, will you come to my office please?"

Seconds later there was a sharp tap on my door and Moira appeared.

"This is Janine. She starts today. Please show her to her desk, explain the dos and don'ts, and start her on some filing."

I turned my attention to Janine. I could not fail to notice she had been studying me closely.

"Please go with Moira. She'll show you what to do."

As Janine turned towards the door I watched her large round buttocks swaying as she walked, outlined by her tight black Prada dress.

***

Janine worked well enough for the first couple of days but then, on Wednesday, she returned five minutes late from her lunch break. I told Moira to let her know that I had noticed and to tell her not to do it again.

Then, on Thursday, she was a full half hour late for work.

This time, I spoke to her alone and in my office.

"If you are late once more. I will be forced to give you a written warning, Janine. That would not look good after only a week at work."

Janine contrived to look as apologetic as possible and didn't try to give me any stupid excuses. I knew that she had overslept. She had the faint smell of alcohol on her breath.

That evening, after supper, I tried to read, but I couldn't concentrate. My thoughts kept returning to Janine. She was so beautiful but so ill-disciplined. I couldn't help but wonder whether a sound spanking on her big bare arse wouldn't help to teach her a lesson.

That night I dreamed. Once again it was so vivid I thought I was awake. Once again I watched myself, an out-of-body experience.

I was at Bradshaw's. It was dark outside, and the building was empty. The only light that was shining came from the fluorescent strip lights in my office.

I was sitting on a wooden chair in my office and Janine was standing in front of me. We were in our work clothes. I heard myself speak.

"We are quite alone Janine. Now, I am going to give you the spanking you so richly deserve. Come here and lie across my lap."

She did as she was told and draped herself across my lap with her arms in front of her and her hands on the floor. In this position, her outstretched legs hung in the air. She was not tall, no more than five feet six inches.

I grasped the hem of her skirt and pulled it up over her back, then pulled her panties down to her knees. Her big bare bottom was now exposed to my gaze... and to my hand.

Then I spanked her. I hit her firmly on each globe in turn, covering every inch of skin before working my way back over them a second and then a third time. After five minutes she was wriggling in my lap and her buttocks were a rosy pink, but my hand continued to rise and fall. Only when her skin was a bright tomato red, and the wriggling was continuous did I deliver one last flurry of my very hardest slaps and stop.

***

Mistress Margaret

Over the next few days, Janine's behaviour was exemplary. She came to work on time and did everything that was asked of her promptly and with a smile, and she was becoming popular with the other members of the office staff.

The following week, when I called her into my office to hand her a pile of documents to file, I could not help but notice how she stared at the old wooden chair that sat in the corner of my room.

Shortly after that, she made another mistake. She took a phone message for me while I was out of the office and failed to tell me I needed to return the call. The client rang back the following day, disgruntled that I had not got back to him.

That night, I went to bed planning to dream of Janine. She needed something more severe than a bare bottom hand-spanking.

In the gym on the top floor of the building, in the corner of the room, there is an old vaulting horse with a suede covering. It has been there for as long as I have worked at Bradshaw's. I often wondered what it was doing there, so out of place amongst the treadmills, exercise bikes, and cross trainers. Now I had a use for it.

The horse was standing in the open space in the front of the gym. Janine was bound naked over it, her wrists and ankles bound to the bottom of each leg by a short length of rope. With her legs spread and her buttocks stretched tight she waited for me.

I stood behind her. In my right hand, I was carrying a long leather strap attached to a wooden handle and there was an exchange of conversation although I could not hear all of what was said.

I did hear myself say," You will address me as Mistress Margaret."

Then, without warning, I stepped back, raised the strap above my head, and brought it slapping down across her waiting bum cheeks. There was a loud slapping noise as the leather impacted, her buttocks jerked, and almost immediately a long rectangular pink imprint was visible on her pale white skin.

I placed the second stroke above the first and the third below it. Each time her buttocks wobbled, jerked, and stilled before the next stroke came cracking down. After three strokes, a large square of pink skin lay in the centre of her backside. Now I started over on this tender patch of flesh, and the real punishment began as her buttocks jerked and writhed in pain and nine more hard strokes were applied.

Throughout the punishment, Janine remained silent.

Janine's bum was a deep scarlet when I finished and threw the strap aside. I walked around the front of the horse, looked down at her, and spoke. My voice was calm and soft.

"Now you can thank me."

"Thank you, Mistress Margaret,"

"I hope that taught you a lesson, although to be honest I'm sure you will need a further lesson soon. Be warned, When I need to discipline you again, it will be very real and very severe. It will not be a dream and I will hurt you very badly when I take a punishment cane to your bare bottom and give you eighteen hard strokes...... Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress Margaret."

***

Miss Cross

The following Monday morning, I was walking through the office when something caught my eye. Sitting on the corner of Janine's desk was a cup of coffee. At first, I didn't believe what I was seeing, and I had to look a second time to be sure.