Sting

by C J Payne

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance

Synopsis

A submissive side is awoken in Lynton when he asks his ex-manager, Julianne, to help him get a job: she spanks him as a punishment for misbehaviour when she first managed him. She then trains his girlfriend, Chloe, in the art of female domination. With the aid of Julianne's mysterious 'friend', Lydia, Lynton and Chloe move into a flat together. After a misadventure with his friend, DW, Lynton is gradually drawn further into Julianne's web. After being rented out to other women, can Lynton find true happiness?

Release date: January 30, 2014

Publisher: Headline

Print pages: 292

Sample

Chapter One

‘I’m afraid, Lynton, you deserve a good spanking.’

Julianne sat on the sofa opposite me with her legs folded underneath her. Her black pencil skirt stretched around her knees. She sipped her tea. I leant forward and looked down at the grey-blue carpet and rubbed a hand through my short, gelled hair. I gulped. I was aware that I had blushed … I was also aware that my cock, on hearing her words, had started to rise like dough in an oven. I tried a false laugh.

‘Don’t you think I’m a bit old for that now?’ I said.

Julianne’s dark eyes drilled into me. Her lashes were thick with mascara, her eyebrows were plucked and her eyeshadow neatly applied – only her lipstick had worn off. She shifted on the sofa and pulled at her ankles so her knees were further under her and the fabric of her skirt stretched even more tightly. She was attractive and glamorous and sexy – and she knew it. God, how many times had I wanked over her when she had been my manager and I had been a 20-something novice with a cheeky grin and a playful attitude towards work? Now my past sins were coming back to haunt me.

‘You’re never too old to learn a lesson, Lynton,’ Julianne said, her eyes burrowing into me again. ‘And I think you deserve a spanking.’

That word again! It sent shivers down my spine. Get fucking down, cock, I told myself. Get fucking down! It was like talking to an errant dog – the thing was butting in where it had no place to. I didn’t want to be spanked – not at 32, not by my ex-manager, in her house on a wet, autumnal Friday evening when I should have been out with my girlfriend, Chloe. OK, I often indulged in sex games with Chloe, and some of those included binding her wrists with ribbon and giving her a mild spanking. I was always in charge – I was the dominant partner – but this was different. This wasn’t a sex game. This was serious. This was vengeance.

Julianne continued, ‘You made my life a misery, Lynton, do you know that? You and DW and Suzy and Andrew and Debbie. A misery.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.’ I was genuinely shocked. ‘I suppose when you are young you don’t realise what impact your actions have on others.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you do. But supervising that section was my first step into management and I had ambitions. I wanted to get on – I wanted to be more than a mother and a wife. Perhaps I was too soft.’ She looked away and spoke to the glass-fronted cabinet in the corner. ‘I know I was too soft.’

There was no doubt about it – we had messed around. We were all a similar age and so had come to the office for a social life rather than to work. I know there was a lot of sickness and time off due to drink-related illnesses and when we were in … well, if Julianne had managed to get a day’s work out of any of us she had been lucky.

‘Peter didn’t want me to have a career so I had all that at home as well,’ Julianne continued. ‘It was the beginning of the end for my marriage. Oh, I’m not blaming you – Peter and I were weren’t right for each other – but it didn’t help.’

Fuck me, she was making me feel bad!

‘I suppose we were a bit young and stupid,’ I said.

Julianne fixed me with her dark eyes again. ‘You were the worst.’

‘I’ve changed now,’ I protested. ‘I’m not like that any more.’

‘Aren’t you?’

‘No.’

‘So why have you come to me for a reference and then told me you’re likely to have disciplinary action taken against you if you don’t find another job?’

I laughed. A hollow echo of a laugh. A picture of the Laughing Cavalier was on the wall opposite me and, as I met the old soldier’s beady eye, I had the distinct impression he was laughing at me and saying, ‘She’s got you there, son.’ I hadn’t really changed. OK, I didn’t drink as much nor mess around in the office to quite the same extent I had when I had been 20, but there was no getting away from it – I was pretty damned lazy and I liked chatting up the office talent. Not that I was a womaniser. Not really. Not like DW, who seemed to be a natural in that department and regularly ended up with single or not-so-single women between his sheets. Despite my increasing “maturity” I had still managed to end up on the wrong side of my present employers and knew if I didn’t find another position I would be sacked.

‘So why did you agree to see me?’ I asked, in response to her question. ‘After I sent you the email, I mean? It would have been easy enough for you to have emailed back to say a reference was out of the question.’

I was beginning to wish she’d given me the brush-off. All I had wanted was some help with my CV and a reference – I didn’t want to be put on a roller coaster guilt trip.

Julianne finally placed her cup down.

‘Curiosity,’ she said after a while. ‘I wanted to see if you were still the same immature 20-year old who caused me so much stress when I placed my foot on the first rung of the managerial ladder or whether you had grown up. Also, I have to say I could not quite believe you would have the cheek to ask me of all people for a reference.’

I blushed again. At least my cock had gone down. I’d made contact with Julianne through internet research and we had had an email exchange – though she had moved on from ZBC Communications, the company we had both worked for, she was still at the same address and it was easy enough to track her down. Julianne had agreed to provide a reference and had even volunteered to look at my CV and update it for me – but now it seemed as if it had all been a ploy. We’d met up in a pub and then she had invited me back to her place: I had thought I was finally going to get her into bed because, Lord knows, she was hot, but I had come to realise that there was about as much chance of that happening as of DW being elected Pope.

Uncrossing her legs, she placed her stockinged feet on the floor. I looked around the tidy, well-furnished living room. Julianne still had a wedding photo on a cabinet and photos of her two grown-up children, as well as nick-knacks from holidays abroad – a bottle of ouzo and pieces of china from various European excursions. I knew she liked the sun and had often returned from holidays abroad with an all-over tan – or so I had liked to speculate.

‘So, you’re not going to help me then?’ I said, defeated.

She smiled. ‘I didn’t say that, did I? I’m happy to help you update your CV and act as a reference for you – which will, let’s be honest, be economical with the truth – but you behaved really badly towards me when you were younger and I think you should acknowledge that.’

She suddenly stood up and brushed down her black pencil skirt. She was quite tall and, I would guess, a size 16 or 18. Her figure was curvaceous and she had large breasts. I could see the outline of her lacy bra through the thin, light brown jumper she wore.

‘Yes, but you don’t really mean you want to spank me though, do you?’ I said with a confidence I didn’t feel.

Julianne was standing over me. I looked up. I suddenly felt weak. I could hear a voice in my head saying “sorry, sorry, sorry”. My cock started to rise again. I placed my hands over my groin to cover it up.

She laughed, looked away. ‘I think it’s what you deserve. That’s all I’m saying, Lynton, that’s all I’m saying.’

She didn’t spank me. Not then. We moved to the table, I plugged my memory stick into her laptop, and we spent the rest of the evening revamping my CV. There was no more “kinky talk”, no further mention of spankings. Sitting close to her, breathing in her delicate skin scent and the smell of fruity shampoo on her hair sent electricity shivering down my spine. She typed away on the laptop keypad, her long, varnished nails hitting the keys meticulously, never making a mistake. Julianne spent a lot of time with me. She was professional and I was almost redundant to the process. It was amazing how she turned my history of half-baked, dead-end jobs into a semi-decent account and tried to accentuate the positives from each position I had held. Every now and again she would ask me about one of my numerous jobs – how long I had done it and why I had left. I told her “I got bored and just wanted another job” or I had been “made redundant” or I had faced disciplinary action.

Julianne sighed. ‘It’s not you who’s been made redundant, Lynton. It’s the position. You always say “my position was made redundant”. You never say “I was made redundant”.

‘I see,’ I said, although in truth I didn’t.

‘You really need some careers advice. You’ve got no direction.’

That was true too. DW often said the same. He had moved on from ZBC, where Julianne had managed us, and now he had a good job in advertising. I was still pottering around on the bottom rung of the careers ladder.

‘What do you like doing?’ she asked. She turned to me and combed a hand through her dirty-blonde hair. Her voice was silky, smooth. A whisper.

‘I dunno.’ I said. ‘I really dunno.’

‘Well, what don’t you like doing? And don’t say working.’

I paused. It was a good question. I listed one or two things.

‘Have you thought about doing some sort of college course and getting further qualifications?’

I told her I hadn’t.

She shook her head. ’At your age you need to have a clearer idea about your career path.’

Julianne didn’t say much more. Instead, she turned back to the computer and gradually, she pulled my CV into shape. At about 10.30 p.m., I left. I texted Chloe to tell her I was on my way home to my flat and she could join me for some hanky-panky if she wanted, but she texted back to say it was too late and she would see me over the weekend.

A few days later I returned to Julianne’s house with a bottle of wine and a box of chocolates. It was a “thank you” present for the help she had given me. She was genuinely quite touched and invited me in. The house smelt fresh and scented candles burned on the coffee table. She offered me a cup of coffee and I sat in the armchair again and awaited her return from the kitchen. My heart was beating like a drum. There were words I wanted to say to her. Words I had been unable to get out of my head since they had been mentioned on my previous visit. I had considered emailing her but knew some things are best said face to face. I wanted to see her reaction. To see if I had made a mistake. I drummed the arms of the armchair relentlessly. At last, she returned with a tray and two cups of coffee resting on it. She placed the tray down on the coffee table and moved my cup so it was in front of me.

‘Have you sent your new, improved CV out to any employers yet, Lynton?’ she asked.

I shook my head. ‘Nothing’s come up.’ Apart from my cock. That was always coming up, and over the past few nights I had beaten the bishop mercilessly, thinking of Julianne and what she had said. Even when I had sex with Chloe I thought of Julianne. I couldn’t get her out of my head.

She perched on the arm of the sofa. Relaxed. She wore tight jeans and socks and a black, polo neck jumper. Her large breasts pushed out and I could see the shape of her nipples through her thin bra.

I took some gulps of coffee and clattered the cup down on the coffee table. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said last time.’ My face felt like a furnace and my throat was croaky.

‘What was that, Lynton?’ Julianne asked. From her perch on the sofa arm she could look down on me. Scrutinise me.

‘That I deserve a spanking,’ I said quickly.

She laughed. ‘It was a figure of speech, Lynton, that was all.’

I felt deflated, and the words that followed left my mouth in a rush like a balloon going down, hissing out in a long squeal of desperation.

‘But I do deserve a spanking! I do! After the way I behaved towards you, I deserve a spanking. I should be spanked for the way I treated you when you had just become a manager … I can think of nothing else except how badly I behaved towards you.’

If Julianne had one character trait that was more prominent than any others it was composure – over the years I’ve seen her in many situations where a lesser person would get flustered or panicky but she’s always been composed. Always calm. Unshockable. She fidgeted on the arm of the sofa. She didn’t say anything at first, but when she did speak a quiver shot through me which made me fizz with excitement.

‘All right, Lynton. I’ll spank you.’ She paused. ‘If that’s what you want …’

My heart beat so fast I thought it would burst from my body. My hands felt clammy and I rubbed them nervously on my trousers. My mouth was dry. My cock felt tight against my zip. For what seemed like minutes, but could only have been seconds, I couldn’t look at her but when I did look up her face was inscrutable. Just a slight shift in her eyebrows. She didn’t say a word.

‘It’s … it’s …. it’s … what I want,’ I stuttered.

Julianne stood up. ‘OK, follow me.’

She walked past me, around the armchair and into the dining area. Like a lapdog I got up and followed her across the room to where, a few days earlier, I had sat beside her while she’d updated my CV.

It seemed surreal. Like a fantasy. Did these things really happen? I’m just like everyone else: I’ve read plenty of porn on the net and in books and I’ve had many, many fantasies but … do these things really happen in real life? For real? Really? I just couldn’t believe what was happening to me. I thought I had to be dreaming.

She pulled out a hard, straight-backed dining room chair, turned it around so it faced into the room, and sat down. I walked towards her tentatively.

‘I’ve waited a long time for this,’ she said. ‘It’s going to be immensely satisfying to get revenge on one of you rascals. Especially you.’

I stood by her chair – the naughty schoolboy.

‘This is a punishment, Lynton,’ Julianne said. ‘Do you understand that?’

I said I did.

‘Right, come here.’ She slapped her denim-clad knees in unison.

I stepped towards her. We both seemed unsure of the next part. Of the ritual which would place me, a 32-year-old man, over her knee. I shuffled nervously. Was this what I really wanted? To be spanked by my former manager? I thought of Chloe. The times I had gently spanked her as a prelude to lovemaking. Then, she had been dressed in lingerie and the spankings had been for our mutual sexual arousal. Julianne had made it clear that this was not the case now. I was to be punished. No sex. End of. I shuffled ever closer.

‘Undo your trousers, ‘Julianne ordered.

Hesitantly, I unbuckled my belt and started to draw my trousers down.

‘I’m waiting,’ Julianne said.

My face burnt like a kiln and yet, once again, my damned cock ruined any pretence that I just wanted to suffer my punishment as a cathartic penance for my previous misdeeds. I pushed my trousers down and let them go so they dropped to my ankles. Already, I felt humiliated.

‘Get me a cushion off the chair,’ Julianne said. ‘I’m not having that thing digging into me.’

I hobbled back into the living room, took a cushion from the sofa, then shuffled back. I felt like a prisoner in irons, beaten and humiliated by some inhumane penal system – only in my case the punishment was yet to commence.

I passed her the plain, white cushion which she placed on her knees.

‘I think we’re finally ready,’ Julianne said. The authority had never left her voice. It was so different to how she had been ten years previously when she had tried to manage me and the rest of the motley crew. But hadn’t I noticed that on the Friday night when I had met her again to ask her to provide a reference? Hadn’t my feeble brain been able to process the fact that Julianne was different? That she had changed? On my earlier visit, she had been authoritative and decisive, but I had not realised just how much she had altered.

The hand on my forearm took me by surprise. She gripped it for a few seconds. Then she screeched “Right!” through clenched teeth and at the same time I was pulled across her cushioned knee. She jiggled me into position so my buttocks were upraised and then, in one smooth swipe, she removed my red briefs. I could feel her breath on my back, feel her heart pounding. I felt exposed, naked, degraded.

‘My God, Lynton, you don’t know how good it feels to have you over my knee after all these years. You can’t begin to know how many times I’ve fantasised about this moment. How many times I’ve prayed that one of you rogues would fly into the spider’s web so I could take my revenge. And the fact it’s you, Lynton, the fact I get to punish you – my God, that feels so, so good.’

As she spoke, her right hand started to stroke my backside. Gently. My buttock muscles twitched in anticipation of a sharp smack. The blood rushed to my head, which rested on the floor. I felt pins and needles run down my spine. My heart pumped. I felt scared. Frightened. I wanted to get up. I wanted to retract the words I had said about wanting a spanking. I wanted to tell her it was all a big mistake …

Then it happened. The first smack, hard as hell. It took me by surprise and jolted me forward. Before I could think to say anything or do anything (not that I could do much!) another equally hard smack awoke my left buttock. Flesh crashed on flesh as her hand impacted with a heavy splat. An intense pain pulsed through my body. God, it was like nothing I had expected. Then a third on the right.

I cried out, ‘No, no, no, stop.’

But she wouldn’t. She spanked me a fourth and fifth time.

Pain spiked every pore of my body as her right hand pounded my buttocks. Left and right. Left and right. She spanked me, walloped me, belaboured me. And it hurt.

‘Stop! Stop! Stop!’ I said in rhythm with another three hard smacks. But Julianne wasn’t listening; she seemed in a trance.

‘Good Lord, you’ve got a cheek, Lynton Field. Asking me, the manager you humiliated, the manager you belittled, the manager whose career you wrecked, to act as a sodding reference for you. Fuck me, you have a cheek! I could not believe it when I received that stupid email from you asking for my help. At first I was going to delete it, then I thought if there’s just a chance, one small chance, that I can finally get you over my knee it’ll be worth helping you.’

She lifted me further up on the cushion. Her right hand continued to pound my buttocks. They felt so, so sore. Tears drip-dropped onto her carpet. I had never been so demeaned in all my life. I loved the idea of being spanked by Julianne, but the reality? I had never realised it would hurt so much. That my buttocks would sting with pain as if I had been dropped onto a thousand stinging nettles.

‘Stop! Please stop, I’m sorry,’ I whined.

‘I’ll stop in my own good time. I’ll stop when I think you’ve been punished enough. You wanted to climb into the bear pit, and now you’re going to taste what it’s like. I knew on Friday you’d come back. I knew you would not be able to resist. I knew what you thought – a little mild spanking and then up to bed.’ She laughed. ‘Oh, how wrong you are, Lynton Field, how wrong you are.’

She was right. I was wrong. I was really beaten that night. Spanked until my backside was as pink as raw meat and burning like an oven on full blast. And she smacked the back of my legs as well, just to make sure I was thoroughly punished.

When she had finished I was told to pull up my trousers and get out of her house – not that I wanted to stay around. I drove off without my seatbelt and pulled up around the corner. My face was red and blotchy with crying. My arse throbbed and pulsated and my calves felt sore.

I didn’t text Chloe that night. I didn’t want her to see me. I felt a fool. I had thought a little gentle spanking would lead to sex. I hadn’t expected to be really walloped as a revenge attack for my previous misdemeanours.

When I got back to my small flat, I stripped off my clothes and examined the crimson marks Julianne’s hand had left on my buttocks. In places – particularly on the back of the legs – I could see her handprints. It was as if I had been branded by her red-hot, branding iron hands. I lay on the bed and closed my eyes. I started to cry and, as the emotion of the evening subsided, I started to think. To try to make sense of the strange event that had befallen me. I was almost in a state of shock. I could not quite believe what had happened. It just seemed so bizarre, so out of the ordinary. I had been assaulted. I had gone to a former manager’s house in good faith to present her with chocolates and wine as a “thank you” for her help with my CV and for agreeing to act as a reference for me and, consequently, I had suffered the most appalling assault. It was a police matter. But hadn’t I requested it? Hadn’t I said I deserved a spanking?

But what a spanking! I had no idea it could hurt so much. I had in no way wanted the dish that Julianne had served up. But what had I wanted? Julianne was right, of course. I had wanted a mild spanking and sex: similar to my sessions with Chloe.

It took me a long time to calm down and for my breathing to return to normal, but, after a while, as I lay on my bed, I started to relax. Then a blissful feeling crept over me; a feeling of euphoria. A warm glow emanated from my buttocks, encompassing my whole body. Before long my cock started to rise again and even the tepid tears that seeped through my closed eyelids felt pleasant. My spine tingled and, almost . . .