Leading a Double Life

She could hear her breathing getting louder and faster as her fingers sloshed in and out of her pussy, her pace getting faster and faster. She wanted to make it last but she knew the moment was fast approaching and her climax was near. Once again her body arched almost violently. Her fingers were buried in her cunt as far as they could be and she couldn't see but she could hear her orgasmic screams as she imagined the unknown eyes drinking in every inch of her young body, memorising every inch, every trembling muscle.

She suddenly felt very vulnerable but slowly her senses returned and she knew she had one last thing to do. Bending forward and reaching down, she picked up her lace thong from exactly the spot where she had dropped and, before the unseen eyes of all her customers, she wiped her dripping pussy with it, coating it in her newly released juices just for them.

Part 5

The auction for her soaking knickers had gone very well but at the last moment her favourite customer, Panty Boy as she had taken to calling him, came in with an outrageous bid that was worth more than she earned for a week's work at the bank. Seeing how desperate he obviously was, she decided to have a little fun with him and insisted that he could only have her underwear if he took a photo of himself wearing them -- while he was at work. Panty Boy was so eager to taste her juices off her used thong that he agreed immediately. So she decided to push him a bit further.

The next day, during her lunch break, she was hiding in the ladies toilets at the local bus station. She had ordered Panty Boy to collect her knickers in person. He was instructed to sit in the adjoining waiting room with his back to the toilets, a copy of The Telegraph (the biggest newspaper she could think of) open on the seat beside him. She had told him she would drop her lace thong into his newspaper and he was then to pick it up and leave without once turning his head to discover her identity. If he dared to look round, she would never hear from him again.

It had seemed like such a good idea the night before but now, peeking out of the toilets, she was more than a little nervous. The only man sitting in the waiting room was the last man she would have expected to be there and, even though he had his back to her, she would have known that greasy hairstyle anywhere. Only after a few muttered curses did she notice the open copy of The Telegraph on the seat beside him. She smiled to herself as a new plan was hatched.

Part 6

When she got back to work everyone was in a state of panic as Mr Jenkins had called an emergency staff meeting which always meant even more trouble than the monthly ones. Elaine, however, went about her business and simply smiled a very satisfied grin when her phone beeped to let her know she had a new message. As she opened the email and downloaded the attachment she shuddered with excitement as she looked at the photo of Panty Boy sitting behind his desk. He had taken the photo from the waist down so she couldn't see his face but she could clearly see her white thong stretched across his crotch.

As work finished at the usual time and the doors were locked, all the women approached Mr Jenkins office nervously and entered on his call. Elaine alone sat with her head held high while he berated them for their performance and, even when he was finished and he was staring straight at her, she held his glare and looked him right in the eye.

"Elaine!"

All the other women were shocked that Mr Jenkins should choose her to be punished; she was so new; she was so young. Elaine, however, appeared unperturbed by being the one ordered to submit to Mr Jenkins' perversions and sauntered over to his desk. Before he could speak she deliberately knocked the cup of steaming hot tea that he always had on his desk into his lap.

"You stupid bitch!" he screamed. "You've scalded me!" He jumped out of his chair and, without thinking, ripped open his belt and pulled his soaking trousers down before the tea could burn him. It was only when he heard the gasps of shock and even some giggles that he realised what he had done and immediately fell to his knees.

"I hope that isn't an excuse to look up my skirt, Mr Jenkins? Or should I say, 'Panty Boy'?"

"Mistress?"

"That's right, Panty Boy; you're worst nightmare. I'm wearing my pink thong today, in case you're interested, seeing as how you're wearing my favourite white one. Would you like to see?"

Cyril Jenkins swallowed hard as his whole career swam before his eyes in seconds but stayed crouching down, his hands trying to hide the tiny white thong that was concealing his tiny cock. Mustering all his professional stature with difficulty he looked up.

"Elaine, I think you should leave. I think you should all leave."

I raised my eyebrows, "What? And miss the ritual spanking? I don't think so. Have you ever been spanked, Panty Boy?"

Cyril Jenkins looked up from the floor, unable to believe the words he was hearing. Was she being serious? Did she really mean to spank him in his own office? In front of his own staff? Never! He could never allow this. But Elaine didn't care what he was going to allow.

"Over the desk," she hissed in his ear. "If you ever want to hear from me again, if you ever want to get your grubby little hands on another pair of my knickers you will do exactly as I say. Or I could always forward the picture you sent me on to your wife. I think some of the others here have some nice shots too."

Sure enough, some of the others had taken out their phones and were recording the whole unexpected turn of events. She leaned down and pulled him up by the ear, squeezing none too gently. She forced him down over his own large desk so that he was now facing the other women assembled in front of him. She picked up the old fashioned wooden ruler from his desk and pulled down his thong, her thong, as he gripped the edges of the desk so tight his knuckles started turning white. What a sight he was and the best was yet to come.

Cyril Jenkins thought this was so unfair. He had only ever spanked the women with his hand and now he was to be spanked with a wooden ruler. He was sure it was going to hurt.

After the first smack, which wasn't even a hard one, he jerked so violently some of his papers were knocked to the floor. As he tried to get up he was unceremoniously pushed back down.

"Please, Mistress, don't hit me again," he begged as the next smack of the ruler landed solidly on his right cheek. Elaine simply smiled as she admired her handy work -- a bright red rectangular outline on his pale bottom -- then began spanking again.

His cries became even louder, even more pitiful, as Elaine decided to take it his punishment up a notch. She put down the ruler for a minute and pushed a finger between his punished cheeks while Mary ran round the desk, pulled his trousers and the thong off him and shoved it into his mouth when he opened it to gasp in shock and pain. The women laughed as he involuntarily tightened every muscle he had while he howled into the crusted thong that filled his mouth.

Picking up the ruler one last time she delivered ten more blows to each cheek before she tired and decided to take mercy on him. He lay across his own desk, in his own office, his own staff towering above him, laughing and taking more and more photos of his bright red cheeks. His face covered in sweat, his eyes red, he looked nothing like the powerful bank manager who had ruled their working lives for so long.

"We'll be going now. Things are going to be a bit different around here from now on. The very first thing you can do is order us some new uniforms that are the correct size but from now on remember we are the ones in charge."

With that she gave his arse a final playful slap and they all left for home, happy in the knowledge that they could look forward to coming to work from that day on.