Induction – Part 3

The final instalment from Blushes 30

‘Why not go on up now,’ Mr Bayton said. ‘Get your nightdress on. Or pyjamas. Whatever you’ve brought. And then… ah… Mr Woodling… Well, he might look in. For a chat. Before you go to bed.’ Back at Mr Bayton’s cottage after going out to the restaurant. Where Susan had managed a few bites of her meal but that was all. Not like Mr Bayton and his two guests heartily eating and drinking. Mr Bayton had said before they came down to the cottage that they were staying till tomorrow and to bring things for overnight. But she hadn’t thought then, had had no idea. Well you wouldn’t, how could you. Unless someone had said, had warned you. Mr Bayton’s cane. And Mr Dickson just yanking your knickers down like that. And Mr Woodling. Mr Woodling’s chat was going to be a chat like Mr Dickson’s. Susan knew that, she just knew it. A chat with her sitting on Mr Dickson’s lap. And then being turned over, upside down. And her knickers… Mr Dickson’s hand splatting down on her bare bottom.

Mr Woodling intended to do the same. Just the same.

You couldn’t lock the bedroom door because there was no lock. And anyway Mr Bayton clearly would not allow that. Be nice and friendly to the clients. Do what they want. And they didn’t want you locking your bedroom door. Not when they wanted to come in for a chat. Looking out of the window. It wasn’t late: 9 o’clock, still light. What if she climbed out. Ran off. But you couldn’t do that. And anyway… opening the window and peering out, down. She couldn’t climb out there even if she wanted to.

She closed the window. Took a deep breath. Mr Bayton and Mr Dickson. Now Mr Woodling. What were they doing down there? Discussing her? Discussing her bottom? Mr Dickson after he had finished spanking her had said she had a lovely bottom. One of the nicest he had ever seen. Going out to the restaurant in Mr Bayton’s car she had sat in the back with Mr Dickson. He had put his hand up her skirt, although she had tried to stop him. Mr Woodling in the front had turned round and laughed.

Coming back it was Mr Woodling in the back with her. Mr Woodling had done the same thing as Mr Dickson. His arm round her and then his other hand up her skirt. His pink face close up against hers. ‘We haven’t had our little chat yet, Susan. You and me.’ His hand up her skirt. Stroking her bare thighs above the stockings. She had kept her knees closed but…

Opening her suitcase she took out her pyjamas. She remembered now, that Elaine Grayford, a bit older, married, who worked in Enquiries. She had told Elaine about being moved into Mr Bayton’s Dealing Department and Elaine had given a funny little laugh. Yes. Probably Elaine knew about all this. The special clients who wanted to have their little chats. And of course Mr Bayton with his cane. Elaine perhaps right now telling her husband or her friends about new, young and innocent Susan. Being nice to the bank’s special clients. Being inducted.

Her white pyjamas. With that silly design on the front. Looking apprehensively at the door and then getting quickly undressed. Pulling on the pyjama bottoms. Very shortly Mr Woodling… would be pulling them down. To spank her bare bottom. It was hateful. What Mr Dickson had done was hateful. Perhaps not as painful as Mr Bayton’s cane. That cane… The spanking hadn’t been as bad as the cane. But even so…

The door opened. Mr Woodling. His pink face grinning. And in his hand… NO! Mr Bayton’s cane.

‘NO!’ gasped out. ‘Not that!’ Pink-faced, grinning Mr Woodling putting the cane on the bed. So that his hands were free. For Susan. Grabbing her pyjamaed body. ‘Susan. Mmmm. What a lovely girl you are.’

His arms round her. Round the firm-fleshed form filling out the tight pyjamas. ‘Not that cane.’ Her tits squashed against his shirt front. ‘Please!’ Mr Woodling grabbing at the springy bottom. The twin, ripe, tight-trousered cheeks. His face in dark brown curls.

‘It’s part of the routine, Susan. Just a little touching up. And Mr Bayton said… you were agreeable.’

She wasn’t agreeable. No way. How could anyone be agreeable. To that. But hot-faced, grinning, grabbing Mr Woodling… ‘We must, Susan. It’s nothing really…’

Lie on the bed. And put the pillow down there, under her hips. Lie on the bed on the pillow and then… pull her pyjama bottoms down. Mr Woodling wanted her bare-bottom.

‘NO!’ That was worse than Mr Bayton. Her bottom hadn’t been bare for the cane then. Well, part of it, in those dreadful shorts that only covered half her bottom. But not actually bare. ‘No. I don’t want to… aaaaiiiikkkk!’

The whippy cane had come slicing in across the tightly-trousered seat. A little encouragement evidently needed. ‘Do as you’re told, Susan. Or I shall simply have to do it that much harder. Do you understand me.’

Yes. Oh God. Her bottom. The pain making her whimper. But… doing as he had said. The pillow, and then clambering onto the bed. Oh please God.

‘Get them down then, dear.’ Mr Woodling’s voice a little strained. The excitement. She really was… And just look at that bum. My word. What a succulent feast. The cane quivering in his hand. Everything quivering in fact. Quivering. Straining. Chafing at the leash. Not least his upstanding male member. Insisting that it too see some action. Well…? Young girls nowadays of course were quite prepared for that sort of action. Shy to admit it sometimes, but…

But first things first.

‘Aaeeiiihhhh!’

The cane…