Induction – Part 2

The second of three parts from Blushes 30

Shaking. Her knees. They wouldn’t keep still. And her bottom. Still a bit like an electric fire throwing out heat.

The memory. Don’t think. But you couldn’t help thinking.

Mr Bayton. And then those others. Clients. The bank’s clients. The two men, she couldn’t remember their names. Hadn’t taken them in because her bottom had been absolutely scorching when they had arrived and she had been introduced. ‘Our new young lady. Susan Maybury.’ In her awful bum-revealing outfit. With her bum bearing red marks from Mr Bayton’s cane.

The two men and Mr Bayton. Having to make tea and take it in there. And… sort of stand for inspection. Her bottom. And everything else. ‘A lovely girl, Mr Bayton. A very lovely figure… and I trust she is going to be a reliable young lady.’

There had been approving comments regarding those red marks on her bottom. ‘Yes, she’s had her first taste,’ from Mr Bayton.

Now up in her bedroom again. ‘Get changed,’ Mr Bayton had told her. ‘We’re going out for dinner.’ Changed out of those dreadful shorts that meant. That was something. But into what? A little yellow dress produced by Mr Bayton. Tying with thin straps at the shoulders and with the skirt very brief, almost as brief as the shorts. Well perhaps not quite. No, it wasn’t as bad as the shorts. But there was also… like he had said in the car. Stockings. With fancy lacy tops. A lacy white suspender belt. Little white knickers. Plus a pair of white high-heeled pumps.

She put it all on, her body still trembling from Mr Bayton’s energetic treatment of her bottom. That dreadful cane. How could he do that to her? You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t cane a person. But Mr Bayton had said you could. ‘Of course one can, Susan. You are 18, an adult, and it is part of our normal procedure. We won’t publicise it, naturally, so as not to cause you embarrassment. But it is quite a normal, routine thing I can assure you. My clients expect it. A reassurance that you are trustworthy.’

Was he just saying all that or did it happen to girls? In banks and places? She looked in the mirror. Her face red, puffy. The face of a girl who had been crying. She couldn’t help it. When that cane… Powdering her face. She had to go out, to dinner. With Mr Bayton and presumably those other two. She wasn’t hungry. Not at all. For one thing there was that awful thought. That fear. Mr Bayton and his cane. He might not have finished. Induction, Miss Maybury.

Stepping uncertainly down the stairs in the high-heeled pumps with above them knees that were not at all sure of themselves. Above the knees the hem of the little yellow dress reaching just about as far as the fancy tops of the white stockings. Oh dear. This was…

‘Ah. Here she is.’ Mr Bayton. What a delight the girl was. Stunning in that dress. And look at those legs. And of course the tits. ‘A lovely girl.’ Mr Dickson and Mr Woodling standing with him agreed that she was. A real addition to what the bank had to offer its clients.

‘Could one perhaps…?’ Mr Dickson. ‘A little private… ah… chat. Before we go out. We are in no great hurry I presume.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Mr Bayton happy to agree, and Mr Woodling putting in quickly that he too would appreciate a similar tête-à-tête with the bank’s new young lady. That also not at all surprising.

‘Of course, of course. I am sure Susan would like nothing better. That after all is what she is here for. To get to know you gentlemen. Let me see… the sitting room?’

Sitting on Mr Dickson’s lap. ‘You must do what they want, Susan.’ Mr Bayton’s instruction. ‘Keep the clients happy.’ And this was what Mr Dickson wanted. To start with. Sitting on his lap with the short skirt high above her stocking tops. Mr Dickson’s hand on Susan’s legs. Her thighs. When it wasn’t investigating her tits. Nice and friendly, Mr Bayton had said. That was what the bank wanted from a girl. With its favoured clients. A pretty, friendly girl was a great asset. A very great asset.

Mr Dickson as he went about his manual explorations was indicating a keen interest in that business that had taken place shortly before the arrival of himself and Mr Woodling. Mr Bayton and his cane. Susan bent over the backs of those two chairs. It was evidently a subject of surpassing interest. Mr Dickson wanting details. Of the actual caning. And how it felt. The very first time? The cane across a girl’s bottom for the very first time. Susan hot-faced at the awful memory — and the awful fact of having to describe it to Mr Dickson. Mr Dickson with those continually grabbing hands.

Spanking. Had she been spanked at all? At any time? No? Ah. So Mr Dickson… could be the very first?

What? What was Mr Dickson saying? A spanking? Yes. NO! Yes. It was quite normal, Mr Dickson said. A girl getting a spanking. From a client. To reinforce the caning Mr Bayton had given her. Oh yes, it was quite the normal thing. And really… very desirable.

No! But Mr Dickson with the bit between his teeth, so to speak. The thought of her virgin bottom. Virgin at least to a man’s spanking hand. ‘Yes, come on, Susan. Mustn’t be a silly girl. Come on. Get… over. And let me… get them down.’

He couldn’t. But he could. Mr Dickson, fiftyish and quite stout nonetheless with strength in his arms when needed. Strength enough to handle an 18-year-old girl, struggling or not. To turn her over. Upside down. Head down and bottom nicely up. The pretty yellow skirt up round her waist now. And those delicious little knickers…

‘No! Please…’

But Mr Dickson was getting them down. Susan quite helpless, one arm up behind her for better control. Her knickers… were coming down. Ooooh. Mr Dickson’s hand on her bare bottom. Going… ooooh!!… everywhere. Shocked cries. Gasps. He couldn’t… put his hand there. But if you couldn’t stop him…

‘Aaaooowww!’

The hand abruptly stopping that other business.

‘Aaaooowwwhhh!’

It was cracking down. Onto Susan’s succulent uncovered seat.