As I wake slowly, the warmth of my bed teases me to linger a little longer, but I know I could not stay, as the late dawn of a cold and frosty November morning was already creeping through my window, I stretched, forcing out the kinks in my muscles, I was enjoying the sensation of the soft, warm cotton sheets against my skin.
Then I remembered that today was Friday, and realising this simple fact, meant that I no longer wanted to remain in bed, and I was hoping that today would be a fun day and this filled me with a sudden burst of energy. Friday's were always the dress down day at work, but this Friday was different, there was this big charity thing on television going on, and the whole office building had agreed to do a sponsored collection for needy children. Someone, from one of the other floors, and I don't know who exactly, had decided that every office should all go in dressed as pop stars, and we could all then pay for the privilege.
It was a worthy cause, and something to lighten the gloomy days of November so I had chosen to go in a Brittany Spears outfit. There were two reasons for this, the first was a childhood memory, it was the first music video that had inspired me to copy the dance moves to. I was eight-years old at the time and I can well remember dancing around our lounge copying every move Brittany made on the 'hit me baby one more time' video, I did not understand the lyrics, but her outfit I could copy, simply because it was almost exactly like my old school uniform.
The second reason was a bit more complicated, but essentially the same, the outfit I thought was rather daring and sexy, and perhaps rather naively I pretended to myself that I might just be able to arouse the interest a certain man.
That man being my boss, the tall, handsome and enigmatic, Mr Cook, he was very clever, very charming and all the girls in the office had a bit of a thing for him. The older ones wanted to Mother him, the younger ones just wanted to do things to him, and hearing them talk at the coffee counter was rather embarrassing, it was lurid and graphic at times. Half of it was beyond what I thought was possible, but I also secretly smiled to myself when overhearing them, because I knew something about him that the other didn't, and this secret had been consuming my thoughts and was making me excited in ways I had not known was possible.
I would, of course, swear that gaining this information about Mr Cook was an accident, and I certainly had not been meaning to snoop or pry, but during my last performance review Mr Cook had to leave the office, and this left me alone with a very tempting brown folder, just sitting on his desk, and it accidently fell open - honestly!
I had thought it might have been my personnel file, so my curiosity levels had already soared, and I wasn't so much disappointed at not finding my personnel file, as completely floored. It proved not to be my personnel file, but rather a set of glossy colour photographs and after my initial shock, the images quickly became extremely intriguing and I could not take my eyes off them, and then I noticed that there was also a note attached which read.
'Sam... thanks for a wonderful night, you were masterful as always, love Emma'
It was the images that left me opened mouth, my heart racing, stomach clenched, in sharp, full colour detail, there was Mr Cook sat upright in a high wooden back chair, with a thoroughly distraught looking woman over his lap, her skirt was pulled up, and her very naked bottom was red, and I could clearly see the outline of handprints all over her bottom. There were other photographs with his hand raised, another with it in mid-air and the final one it had obviously landed squarely on her bum, her legs were kicking out and she looked in real pain.
I was so engrossed in the photographs that I almost missed the sounds of him talking outside the door and I had to hastily rearrange everything back to where it was. As soon as he came back into the room he asked if we could continue our meeting later as something had come up. At that moment I could not wait to agree with him, my cheeks were very flushed, and I felt an overwhelming need to dash to the rest room and think about what I had just seen.
That night at home I thought about what I had discovered and went on line to find out more, and I was really blown away, once I had got through all the stuff on spanking children being a bad and damaging thing, I found some more adult sites that had stories, experiences and even some videos, first I was intrigued, which quickly turned to arousal and by then I was hooked.
I found it totally fascinating how an adult would willingly submit themselves to such a painful, degrading experience, but almost everything I was reading was in the positive, and a lot of it, I found very sexy.
This got me thinking about my own experiences with men, and I could not deny that I had always been left more than a little dissatisfied and unfulfilled, all my previous boyfriends had tended to put me on a pedestal, treating me like a princess in most cases and they seemed at times almost terrified to touch me in case I broke. The two men I had allowed to do more than just hold hands were awkward, and too excited, leaving me distinctly unfulfilled and dissatisfied.
I guess it may not have been their fault completely, as my parents, devout born-again Christians had always ensured my obedience and chastity, my life was very sheltered, and I was always taught the importance in being a good girl and behaving properly, and that is how I acted for the most part, and expected everyone to treat me in that way. I was beginning to accept that, perhaps it was my fault that I had not yet found exactly what I needed to satisfy me, but then good girls should not think that way, and good girls should certainly not be thinking the thoughts that were now crowding my head.
After reading all the stories, and feeling the images seep deep into my consciousness, I could not help myself and ended up naked on my bed driving my small fingers deep into my hot, and very wet pussy. I could not believe how turned on I was and with a deep seated need I had never felt before, I ploughed two fingers in and out of my sex. An hour later I curled up and fell asleep, exhausted after my second extremely powerful climax. They were more powerful than anything I had experienced before, and this only left me wondering what more I could discover, and whether being a bad girl could be even more fun.
I woke sandy eyed, after a restless night filled with vivid dreams involving Mr Cook and his strong hands smacking my bottom. The following day at work, it got worse, I could not concentrate, my mind was going a million miles an hour and the thought of being over Mr Cook lap, my bottom naked and stinging, left me breathless and rubbing my thighs together to try and dull the itch that was making me squirm in my seat.
That night I could not wait to continue my investigations into the world of over the knee spanking and this only fuelled my frustrations, the more I found out, the hornier I became, but the reality was that I had no idea about how I could satisfy my intense curiosity and how to interest Mr Cook in me.
From then on, when I got home after work almost every day, I could not wait to dash to my bed, and touch my increasingly needy pussy, I played for hours as I varied the pleasure in different ways. I even plucked up the courage to purchase, what was for me was a rather impressively sized personal massager, that produced the most delicious sensation of fulness when I plunged it in and out of my pussy. I combined this with my fingers teasing my sensitive clitoris and, finally using my hand to slap my pussy lips until I came harder than ever. Every day since then I have been daydreaming, thinking of different ways to entice Mr Cook, and my nightly reading and viewing habits were now always centred around being spanked by him.
My increasing need, and lustful thoughts were scaring me a little, this was so out of character for me, the modest good girl, who went to church with her parent three times a week, but the more I thought about my new-found interest and knowledge of forbidden things, the more I ached for his attention.
At least todays dress up day may prove to be a starting point, because in all my research I now believed that the naughty school girl look was a favourite spanking theme. I got out of bed, quickly remaking it, ensuring the straightness of the covers, and the exact placement of the bed cushions, before I headed into my bathroom and perform my morning rituals, this did not take long.
A recent habit I had gotten into, thanks to my new-found discoveries, was that once I had finished showering and drying myself, I would check myself over in the full-length mirror, and although not given to conceitedness, I am pleased with what I see, a few short weeks ago I would not have dared to be so provocative as to see myself naked, unclothed so immodestly, but now that my reading habits had changed, I felt more embolden, almost brazen.
At almost twenty-one years of age, my frame is slight, and my delicate pale coloured skin is soft and youthful, my body is now devoid of all hair, something else I read about online and immediately wanted to try. The first time I teased my hairless pussy, the results were mind blowing.
Today I decided to wear some coal black eyeliner, and dark grey eyeshadow, which I hoped would serve to highlight my large baby blue eyes, and give me an air of innocent naughtiness. I had practiced the previous night applying the exact look I wanted so I had not taken long to apply my makeup.
As I look at my naked self in the mirror, I allowed my hands to wander up from my side to cup my breasts, two perky teardrops of soft flesh, my sensitive nipples are dark pink and thick, and they stand proud against the small round darker pink of my puffy areola's. I exercise twice a week, with the women in the church, yoga for Jesus they call it, but it has kept my stomach flat, and my limbs supple, my legs look long and sleek, and the space at the top, only serves to lead my eyes to my hairless mound and naked pudenda.
All through my very sheltered life, my parents had taught me that my body was sinful and shameful, and something to be hidden away and not shown under any circumstances, especially to boys who only wanted one thing, and 'it' would ruin me, whatever 'it' was. I always sighed when my Mother went on about it, if they meant sex, why did they not just say sex, rather than leaving it so vague. The two boys I had known, the first was so excited at the prospect he kept messing in his underpants, then apologizing before hastily letting me out of his car and the second just rammed himself home and was done it about five seconds flat against the back wall of the church, and rather than being ruined, I just felt cheated.
I shook my head, clearing my mind of these kinds of negative thoughts that bubbled up whenever I examined myself in such a detailed way, I knew my life could be different if I was brave enough, and I was determined that it would be bolder in the future.
I reached for my outfit, the plain full coverage bra, that does nothing to enhance my B cup breasts, a short black crop top so that, what little cleavage was displayed, was nestled seductively, if not rather diminutively on view. The high collar white shirt, which I decided to button up properly to travel to work, but fully intend to undo and then tie around my waist once I get into the office. I had thought long and hard about which pants to wear, and settled for some standard white boy shorts that were modest even by my Mother's standards. I only settled for these, just in case the rather short, grey flannel flared skirt, unexpectedly rose up too high.
Finally, some thick, knee high grey socks, I couldn't find any then went to mid-thigh so had to make do, although I had found out, when trying them on I could stretch them over my knees, which again I would only do once at work.
The one thing left to do is my pig tails, fortunately my dirty blonde hair is long enough to normally wear in a bun on top of my head, and luckily, I had found some pink ribbon, so it did not take long to achieve the required two loose pigtails finished in pink.
