The Spaning Agency

1: Bottoms for Hire.

Thirty-two Winchester Road sat just off the main bypass heading into the West End of London where small businesses and retailers of all shapes and sizes went about their trade. Today was the 20th of November and a steady drizzle fell from leaden skies as the huddled masses of the grand old city went about their daily routines.

Inside number thirty-two, the man and his new client walked into and looked around the empty first-floor room. The woman turned to the Estate Agent who was fiddling nervously with his clipboard making sure he had all the correct documents to hand.

"All right," she said after a moments pause, " I'll take it."

The bespectacled man smiled with relief and held out a pen. "Sign here please," he asked her, pointing to where she needed to write her signature to secure the lease.

Once signed, they both turned to leave. When she got to the door, she stopped and turned to look back into the room which was to become her own personal office. A quiet sense of satisfaction flooded through her. She had finally done it. She was on her way.

Molly Malone's Spanking Agency was in business.

*

Mrs. Brewster looked up from the faded glossy magazine she was reading as the door opened and the bell above it rang. She smiled at the tall, elegant, middle-aged woman who entered the small room where she worked part-time as a receptionist for Pinters Printers, publisher of various dubious titles including the renowned naughty newspaper, Adult Monthly News.

"Ello," she said pleasantly, "Can I be of assistance, dear?"

Molly Malone glanced around at the rather plain surroundings before opening her purse and taking out a typed note. "I hope you can," she nodded, "I'd like to place an advert in the next issue of your adult newspaper," she asked, handing over the details.

The receptionist took it and put on her wing-framed spectacles to read it. She glanced up at the younger woman who was flicking through an old copy of Best British Boobs magazine that lay on the top of the counter along with various ash trays and plastic plants. Blimey. What's all this then? Spanking Agency - Bottoms for Hire? Well, takes all sorts and as Betty Brewster knew far too well. Since she had started working here many years ago, she had seen practically everything there ever was or would be in regards to human sexual behavior. Men had more fetishes between heaven and earth than there were hairs on her shaggy mons pubis.

"How far is your circulation?" asked Molly, "Print run, returns, that sort of thing."

The receptionist had her notepad open and was counting the number of words as she jotted down the required order details. "Ooo," she responded as she tapped her pen against her yellow teeth, "We go all over London and the home counties, we do. Last month we hit nearly three thousand copies with less than one hundred returns. We're seeing a lot more people advertising with us right now. Usually happens with the nights drawing in. People stay indoors a lot more you see."

Molly nodded at her note. "Is that good to go?"

Mrs. Brewster waved a hand. "Oh yes. I've written down all your details and checked the word count. You just need to tell me what size of advert you want. You can have a full page advert, that's A4, for twenty pounds or a quarter page one for five. Black and white. Color is really only for something with photos."

"A quarter page will be fine, thank you," Molly replied, handing over a crisp £5 note, "When is the next issue out?"

"End of the month, dear. Twenty-ninth usually. That's allowing for unforeseen circumstances and everything. You know, Gods little tricks. Like the old Bill coming around."

Molly smiled as she zipped up her coat. She thanked the older woman and left the printers to make her way back to her new office. The rain had started to fall again and Molly unfurled her black umbrella as she stepped between the puddles on the pavement. Nine days. Nine days to sort everything out and be ready for launch. There seemed so much to do.

Thank God, she already had a secretary in place to handle all the paperwork and arrange the interviews for tomorrow. Interviews that had been booked through her various "contacts" she had met over the years. Around her, the hubbub of London traffic honked and beeped as she stood there in the pouring rain. Her life was about to change. This had been her dream for a long time and now it was about to happen. She was her own Boss and real people would be working for her.

Working at her Spanking Agency.

*

There was a quiet knock on her office door. Molly looked up from her desk. "Yes?"

The door opened and a frizzy explosion of peroxide blonde hair framing a sweet blushing face suddenly appeared from behind it. It was her new secretary, Dolly. "Miss Malone, the ladies have arrived for their interviews," she told her with her breathlessly excited voice.

Molly nodded and pushed back her leather chair from behind her desk. "Thanks, Dolly, send them in. I may as well see them all together to begin with," she indicated, waving her hand.

"Righty-ho," said her secretary, "Won't be a tick."

There was a slight commotion outside as the ten women filed in and stood looking fidgety and nervous before the desk where their potential new boss sat. Molly was pretty sure that all ten would be good to go as they had all been vetted and recommended by her contacts in the business. There was, after all, only one absolute requirement as regards their qualification for the job. Anything extra they were willing to do was simply a bonus for themselves and their customers.

Dolly collected all the application forms and handed them over to her boss. "Here you go, Miss Malone. I made sure they filled in all their details in reception. Names, address, date of birth, national insurance number, telephone number, and their, um, "she mumbled as she turned bright red, "Spanking and sexual preferences."

Molly smiled as she took the forms from her young employee who stood there in a white nylon top, deep blue skirt, and black tights with her hands clasped behind her back, "That will be all, Dolly. Oh, and hold all my calls for the next hour will you?"

Dolly gave a little nod. "Alright. That I can indeedy doodly do. No calls for an hour. Gotcha." She then left the room with all eleven women watching her go with bemused stares. Dolly, it had to be said, didn't have a nasty bone or thought in her cute little bosomy body.

Molly looked up at the rather diverse array of new recruits and smiled as she introduced herself to her new girls. "Ladies, welcome. My name is Molly Malone and this is the beginning of an adventure not only for me but, I hope, for you as well. Thank you for filling in your applications which I will go through later as I chat to you on an individual basis."

Molly got out of her chair and came around to sit on the corner of her desk. "The only strict rule I have is that you really want to do this for more reasons other than financial. I want my staff to enjoy their work. Doing something you enjoy goes a long way to making a better success of it. I want our customers to feel like they're with someone who loves what they're doing as much as they do. A satisfied customer will be a returning customer. The extra service will be at your own discretion. What you are willing to do is up to you. But, like I said, we can discuss such things one to one over the next couple of hours as these interviews will only take ten to fifteen minutes at most. I hope this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship for all of us. Welcome to the Spanking Agency."

*

The 30th of November dawned wet and miserable as the commerce of London ground relentlessly on. There was no such lack of excitement and anticipation at 32 Winchester Road as Dolly sat at her desk blowing on her perfectly manicured red nails waiting for the telephone to ring on the Agencies first proper day of business. It had gone nine-thirty and every second of silence felt like an eternity.

Molly popped her head around the door. "Any calls yet, Dolly?"

Dolly shook her head. "We've only been open half an hour, Miss," she sighed, "Most people I know don't get out of bed till ten!"

Molly made a face and was about to return to her office when the phone suddenly rang making them both jump. Dolly stared at it transfixed. She glanced at her Boss who could feel her heart beating loudly in her chest. Was this her first customer? "Go on then, Dolly," she urged, "Answer the bloody thing!!"

Dolly swallowed her gum and gingerly picked up the phone.

"Good Morning, this is the um Spanking Agency. Dolly speaking. How may I be of service?" she replied in her best posh telephone voice. Molly bit her tongue to stop herself laughing as her secretary "Ummmed and ahhhhhh'd" as she took down the caller's details.

Molly stood there waiting like a cat on a hot tin roof until Dolly turned with the phone to her ear and gave her a thumbs up.

A customer. The Agencies first!!

*

"Tell me a bit about yourself, Margaret," asked Molly.

The lady sat opposite her was a smart looking, middle-aged, divorced mother of two with shoulder length light brown hair, blue eyes, pert nose, a small mouth, and a shapely figure hidden under a sensible black jacket, light-blue blouse, black skirt, and black stockings.

"Well, my name is Margaret Jackson. I'm thirty-seven years old just gone September. I've been divorced for, um, about three years now and have two kids. Two daughters who are in High School right now. I used to work part-time at my local bank but got paid off a month ago and I was on the look out for a new job," she replied as she nervously fiddled with the handbag she was holding in her lap, "And here I am."

"How did you hear about the Agency?"

"Oh, um, a friend of a friend who knew a friend who kind of let it slip the other day when we were having coffee together. How she heard about you I have no idea. I don't think she got it from the Times job section somehow." she smiled.

Molly laughed. "No, I guess not," she nodded, "What about the spanking? What made you apply for this kind of work? It's not exactly what you would call a normal trade with prospects that you can talk to other people about. Do you see it as a normal job?"

Margaret sat quietly for a moment. "It was my first boyfriend, actually. He got me into it. Not that I wasn't aware of that sort of thing to begin with. I've always had these silly little urges where I get spanked for being a bad girl or whatever even though I never got spanked when I was growing up. I used to day dream about getting a spanking all the time and it got worse as I got older. Bill, that was his name, was pretty basic. He just liked feeling and playing with my bum. The spanking was just something that happened naturally and we both really enjoyed it."

"Did he spank you often?"

The younger woman nodded. "Oh, absolutely. At eighteen, we were young and in love and all we could think about was being alone together and having, you know, sex. Sex is easy to arrange. Having a quickie when mom popped down to the local shops for a pint of milk. That sort of thing. Arranging a spanking was a nightmare in comparison!" she winced as she smiled at the memory, "I swear my poor bum was purple for half the time we were together. Mom and dad would drag me to church on a Sunday and I'd be sat there in the pews with a stinging bottom while everyone sang Cumbhiyah." Both women laughed at her little adventures, "So, as you can tell, spanking has always been a thing and something I really like to do and enjoy."

"I noticed you ticked the extra services box. You do understand what that means?" asked Molly as she looked through Mrs. Jackson's details.

Margaret shifted in her seat and blushed prettily. "Yes, yes I do, Miss Malone. I'm a single divorced mother of two who hasn't had a relationship or um sex for nearly two years now. Despite the efforts of my friends to set me up with God knows how many blind dates, I'm not really that interested in dating anyone right now. I have enough on my plate with bringing up two teenage girls. Doing something like this kills two birds with one stone; satisfy my love of spanking and to help kick start my sex life."

Molly sat back in her chair and picked up her application form. "Well, Mrs. Jackson, that was exactly what I wanted to hear. You come across as sensible, level-headed, and confident in your sexuality. You're the kind of woman I'm looking for here at the Agency. I very much look forward to getting to know you better, Margaret. I hope you will find the job rewarding both personally as well as financially. I think you'll be making more than you earned in your last job all being well. Congratulations, you're hired."

*

Timothy Swails was a quiet and emotionally reserved beanpole. A tall man of letters who's tidy apartment was a monument to books of all persuasions. The man was in his late twenties and bore a striking resemblance to an elongated and older Harry Potter. He sported a windswept mop of slicked back black hair and wore owlish spectacles perched on his hawkish nose and had a tartan tank-top-ish dress sense as if he just been dragged out of the basement of the local library. He was, by every definition, a bookworm and teacher of the good word.

Mr. Swails had other things on his mind this day. He was stood in his bathroom wearing an armless white vest and an oversized pair of blue candy striped boxers as he vigorously brushed his teeth this way and that. Today was a day to wash behind the ears and in all those other places your mother never mentioned in polite company. A quick double squirt of spray under each armpit and down the underpants put the finishing touches to his cleansing. He was done.

He stood looking at himself in the mirror. Twisting this way and that to examine his profile. He really needed to eat more red meat as he watched his Adam's apple bobbing nervously up and down. Time was ticking on. He glanced at his watch. It had gone eleven and his guest was due to arrive at eleven-thirty. He left his bathroom and padded across the landing to his bedroom as he glanced at the latest issue of Adult Monthly News that was on his bedside table.

No chickening out now. What was done was done and whatever happens, will happen anyway. When he had first opened the newspaper and saw THAT advert his heart had fallen down to his boots and rebounded back up again in a fit of extreme excitement. He still couldn't believe it. After all this time. He might actually experience the one thing that meant more to him sexually than anything else. Spanking. And, there on the page in front of him, was an advert for a Spanking Agency. A place where ladies bottoms were for hire at the right price. And all he had to do was make a phone call.

He was still amazed he managed to say anything at all when the lady from the Agency had answered the phone. What was her name again? Deborah? No. Dolly. It was Dolly, and she had been perfectly pleasant and delightful as she had taken down his contact details and arranged for them to send out a lady for him. A lady for him to spank. And do naughty things with after. There goes his Adam's apple again.

Fifteen minutes later his doorbell rang.

*

Margaret looked at her very first client as they sat opposite each other in his kitchen drinking coffee. As she had expected, general chat was embarrassingly painful and the small talk wasn't much better. She was nervous. He was nervous. This was all so new to them both, she presumed. At least, she thought it was both of them. For all she knew, this quiet studious looking man could be out every night shagging the local ladies until the cows come home. But she somehow doubted that judging by the way he fidgeted in his seat avoiding her gaze.

"Have you done this before?" he suddenly asked her.

Margaret looked at him over the rim of her gently steaming mug. "The spanking thing?"

He pushed his spectacles up his nose. "Well, I mean, everything, I guess."

Oh. Those everythings. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "No, can't say I have, Mr. Swails. Actually, I used to work in a bank until I got paid off a month ago," she told him as his eye brows danced around on his forehead.

He put his hand to his mouth. "Oh my," he gasped, "And now you work for this Agency. This um Spanking Agency place. That really is quite the career change."

She raised her mug to him. "And this is my first day on the job and you're my first client, Mr. Swails. How does that feel?" Maybe it was the coffee but she could feel herself warming to her new occupation rather nicely. He seemed perfectly normal. A bit timid. But she had imagined far worse when in the taxi ride over. All sorts of weird thoughts had gone through her head as she wondered what her first customer would be like. Was he fat or thin? Tall or short? Hairy or bald? Well hung or a tiddler? All things considered, sat here in his kitchen, events had turned out just fine in the end as she felt the ice slowly beginning to melt between them at last.

"Oh, an absolute honor and privilege to be sure," he grinned as he raised his coffee mug to gently tap hers, "And do please call me Timothy or Tim. The last thing I want is for our session to feel so formal. Only my students call me by my surname."

She nodded. "Only if you call me Margaret or Marge. Deal?" She put down her mug and held out her hand for him to shake across the table.

He took it and shook it dramatically. "Deal."

Margaret finished off her coffee and put the mug on the table. The clock was ticking and she needed to get a move on. Two hours was their allotted time. You could do a whole lot of things in two hours and the thought of doing those things made her itchy pussy begin to lubricate herself. It was like squeezing the juice out of a lemon.

"Where do you want me, Timothy?" she asked him suddenly in a hushed sexy voice, "I can feel my poor little arse just asking to be spanked already."

Margaret smiled to herself as she watched his Adam's apple bobbing up and down like a cork cast adrift in a stormy sea.

* They retired to his study where each wall was lined with oak bookcases stuffed with hardbacks and paperbacks from any subject under the sun and the air smelled of old paper. He was sat in his black leather swivel chair watching raptly as Margaret teased down the zipper on the side of her skirt and let it fall to the floor leaving her standing there in her scarlet stockings and suspenders.

Mr. Swails gave a long whistle of appreciation as her shapely legs were revealed. "By golly," he admired as he looked her up and down, "Those are a fine pair of pins you have, Margaret."

"Thank you very much," she replied, blushing at his compliment even if it was true, "Along with my large bum, they're my best asset," she agreed. She slipped off her coat and stood there before him in her freshly ironed white blouse and sexy lingerie as she tugged up her knickers so that they hugged her hot pussy even tighter.

She turned around in her heels and showed off her well shaped and padded posterior to him before bending forward slightly and resting her hands on her knees. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the panting dog look on his flushed face. Oh, he really likes that. He likes that a lot.

"Now then, Mr. Swails," she said seductively as she undid the buttons of her blouse, "Where exactly do you want me?"

*

It had been so long since she'd been spanked that she had nearly forgotten the sheer electric thrill of it as she shuffled across his lap as he sat on his worn leather sofa licking his lips as he watched her fat bottom wriggling under his nose.

"Crikey, Margaret," he gasped as she let him pull and tug her knickers this way and that, "You have an absolutely splendid rear bumper."