Tiffany's Timidities Ch. 01

"This is where you'll sit," Doctor Mitchell said, slapping the stool cushion. She noticed it was pink.

"Um... okay."

"I don't want our patients to get the impression you're hiding behind a big desk, surfing the internet all day like Marge used to do. So, I had this new podium installed. Since it's transparent, you and our patients will always be in full view of each other."

"Yes, we certainly will."

"That way they can get your attention if they need anything, and won't feel ignored."

"Okay. But... um, can I just ask, um, why the stool is so tall sir? And that fabric doesn't really match any—"

"I wanted to make sure you had a clear view of the room, and vice versa. The color was just an afterthought."

"Oh."

"Actually though, I think it draws an appropriate level of attention to your role."

Tiffany stared blankly and could not think of a response.

"Anyway, come on back this way," he continued, "I'll show you how all these little machines work."

Against the room's back wall was a low credenza equipped with a multi-purpose printer/fax/scanner/copier, a coffee maker and an espresso machine. A small built-in refrigerator was concealed inside one of the credenza's cabinets.

Through the storm of anxieties swirling in her head, Tiffany felt a sudden pang that she had forgotten something.

"Oh God! I'm supposed to bring Doctor Jacobsen his coffee! What time is it? Can I do that first, sir? Please?"

"Well... alright. I guess you can probably figure these things out on your own anyway."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"I'll be in my office. Come back when you're done with Jacobsen. We have a lot more to go over before the doors open at ten."

"I'll be there as soon as I can!"

With that, Ian left her alone in the lobby. She rushed to activate the coffee machine, but was soon flummoxed. It was a design she had not used before and in her haste she fumbled an open box of stir-sticks to the floor.

They scattered everywhere, including under the credenza, so she had to get on all fours to find them all.

Naturally, just then Doctor Grisholm walked through the clinic's front door. The first thing he saw was a slender young woman in a short dress waving her ass in the air.

"You must be Tiffany!" his voice boomed across the room.

She scrambled to her feet as quickly as her delicate sandals allowed. The top of her strapless bra was peeking out above her dress again. It held her breasts out like an offering, barely concealing their pink areolas.

The next minute was a flurry of greetings, smiles, handshakes and awkward questions about how the coffee machine worked. Doctor Grisholm became a willing tutor and Tiffany found her hands too busy to pull the top of her dress back up.

Grisholm enjoyed quite an eyeful as he guided her through the machine's many settings until finally the coffee began to perk. Then he pronounced her trained and made a comment about how great it was to have her 'on the team.'

Tiffany at last hitched up her dress and thanked him profusely before he left.

Alone again, she waited. The clock on the wall indicated she was already 10 minutes late with Doctor Jacobsen's coffee. When the light on the machine eventually blinked green, she hurriedly poured out a mug and added some 2% milk from the mini-fridge.

Then she clacked down the long hallway past Doctor Mitchell's office, Doctor Grisholm' office and several other rooms. The hot coffee and her breasts wobbled at dissonant frequencies.

All the way at the end, the last door was emblazed with a sign that read: 'Doctor Ivan Jacobsen.'

She knocked.

"Come in!" a voice commanded.

Tiffany took a deep breath, turned the knob and forced herself to smile.

SCENE 4

Doctor Jacobsen was sitting behind a modern desk in a high-backed office chair. There was a widescreen computer monitor offset to his left and a newspaper spread out before him. A pair of half-framed reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

"Coffee at last," he said.

"Sorry I took so long, Doctor Jacobsen. That machine out there is more complicated than it looks."

He smiled and nodded as Tiffany gently placed the steaming mug into his hand.

"Thank you, Tiffany. I'm afraid you'll find that I am a little bit addicted to coffee."

"That's okay, sir. Just let me know when you need more. I'll be happy to get it."

"Have a seat, please," he continued with a gesture toward the visitor's chairs opposite his desk. "I'd like to learn a little more about you."

Tiffany felt relieved that he did not seem angry about her tardiness. She smiled politely and lowered her bottom into the nearest chair, while again tugging her dress upward to keep her bra from showing.

He took a first sip, then asked: "Did you find the wash basin in Exam Room 1?"

"Uh... I don't... What do you mean?"

"To wash your feet."

"Oh gosh, sir! I completely forgot!"

Doctor Jacobsen set down his coffee, peeled off his reading glasses and then rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing loudly in a feint of exasperation.

"Tiffany, Tiffany. I just assumed that was why it took you so long. You said you'd be here in ten minutes, not twenty-five."

"I know. I'm sorry, Doctor."

"Has Mitchell explained the rule about being late?"

"The rule? Well, but—"

"A spank for every minute. I had argued for two, but he made the final call. If you ask me I think he has a soft-spot for you."

"Um... No, that's not—"

"One for each minute seems more than fair, don't you agree?"

"I... Sir, I... I couldn't possibly—"

"Here," he cut her off, "take a couple of these wet wipes and clean your feet please. Then we can talk about the details of your training."

He pulled a plastic tub of wet wipes from the bottom drawer of his desk. Tiffany accepted it from his hand. Then he put his spectacles back on and resumed reading the paper. She started to rise from her chair, imagining that he wanted her to go somewhere else to scrub her feet, but he told her to stay.

"Okay, sir," she mumbled as she crossed her legs and began unbuckling her sandals.

Three silent minutes later she had both feet clean and Doctor Jacobsen had finished his coffee. She bent forward to re-attach her shoes, but he stopped her.

"All done?" he said. "Let me see."

Not knowing what else to do, Tiffany extended one petite foot over his desk. He accepted it in both hands and carefully inspected her bare sole. She found his touch quite ticklish.

"What size shoe do you wear?" he asked.

"Um... a six. Narrow usually."

"Hand me one of those wipes. A fresh one."

When she complied Doctor Jacobsen immediately began scrubbing her foot all over again, far more aggressively than she had done.

"That tickles! Oh!" she squealed involuntarily.

"Hold still. I've got to get between your toes."

"Oh, Doctor Jacobsen! Why are—?!"

"Put your other foot up here too, please."

Tiffany was squirming in her chair, but managed to place her other naked foot beside the first. This posture made her bottom slide forward. Her short dress crept higher. With her legs aimed straight at Doctor Jacobsen she realized he had a direct view between them. His eyes flitted between her feet, her face and her crotch. An amused smile spread across his face.

Tiffany blushed and gripped the arms of her chair, trying not to squeal too loudly as he scrubbed her feet with first one and then a second wet wipe. The sensation was intense, intimate, and wickedly erotic. Mixed with her awareness that he was looking at her sheer panties and probably seeing how much she had shaved down there, it all conspired to make her libido run amok.

"You have lovely feet," he said as he scrubbed. "You must promise you'll take good care of them."

"Yes," she answered between ticklish flinches. "I'll try, sir."

"Most people take feet for granted, but to me they are the most beautiful part of a woman's body."

Tiffany blushed. Dampness bloomed beneath her underwear.

Eventually he stopped scrubbing and lifted her feet one at a time to his face, giving them a final close inspection.

"Lovely," he whispered before letting them go.

"Thank you sir," she whispered as she carefully lowered her feet back into her shoes, buckled them up and then straightened her posture.

"Shall we proceed straight to your spanking, or would you like to tell me a little bit more about yourself first?"

Tiffany's eyes widened incredulously. A full ten seconds ticked by before she could formulate her response.

"Um... honestly sir, I don't know how this whole... idea of... spanking me came about. I just—"

"Tiffany, it's all agreed. Didn't you just say Doctor Mitchell had explained this to you?"

"Well he mentioned it, but I didn't think he was serious. I mean, there's no possible reason—"

"Of course there is: office discipline. I understand you're new to all this, and very young, so you have a lot to learn. But the four of us are more experienced and, as your employers, we must pursue the best ways to accelerate your training."

"But sir, I—"

"Yut, yut," he cut her off, raising his hand. "It's not up for discussion. A firm spanking whenever you do something wrong will really punctuate your day. You'll see."

"But—"

"I merely asked if you wanted to tell me a more about yourself first."

"Sir, I... I can't imagine what else we could talk about. I mean, the fact that you guys all think I need spankings is—"

"Well, if it's all you can think about, let's get it over with."

Doctor Jacobsen rose from his chair and walked to Tiffany's side. He stared down at her expectantly, wearing a tight-lipped smile.

"No... I didn't mean it like that. I—"

"Good heavens girl, quit whining! It's only fifteen swats. Now stand up and present yourself so we can move on!"

His seriousness was unmistakable. He really did intend to spank her. A visible shiver ran through Tiffany's body. She stared up at him, eyes huge and growing moist. Her lower lip began to pout.

"Come on, girl. Up! You may bend over my desk... panties down of course."

A guttural sob burst from her mouth. Color bloomed rampantly across her neckline and face, hiding her freckles. Her features scrunched together. A single tear slid down her cheek.

"There's no call for drama, dear. My spankings are quite harmless. And I know you don't want to disappoint everyone on your first day, do you?"

She shook her head.

"Okay then," he said soothingly, "Up you come."

He lifted her by the arm until she was standing. Then he hauled the chair away from behind her.

Tiffany stood as still as she could, but her knees betrayed her fear by knocking together. She could not take her eyes off Doctor Jacobsen's face. He looked so calm. She searched his expression for any possible reassurance.

"Why don't you take a step forward, right up against my desk?" he encouraged her.

"Okay, but..." Tiffany began while shuffling forward until the desk's edge dented the front of her thighs. "Just don't do it too hard, okay? Please?"

"Raise your dress, dear. You'll be fine."

Tiffany let out another short sob, quieter than the first. Her hoop earrings shook around her face. Gradually she curled her pink fingernails into the flared part of her dress and lifted.

"That's good, Tiffany; up around your waist. Now bend right the way over for me..."

She felt a flurry of panic traverse her nervous system as she gathered her dress higher and higher. Once her hips were bare, she tightened her grip around the slack material, pulling it forward to completely expose her bottom.

She felt Doctor Jacobsen's hand take a soft grip on her nearest butt cheek and squeeze.

"That's a good girl," he said softly. "Bend farther over."

She reacted by looking back at him, but she also tipped forward a little.

In genuine admiration he continued, "You certainly do have nice glutes. They're very round."

His hand tightened around her left butt cheek, tugging it upward.

Her lower back arched reflexively into his touch. She blinked several times, still looking over her shoulder. He was staring at her ass.

She felt his hand grip her opposite cheek. His fingers tensed as if measuring her firmness.

Something shifted within her. His intermittent squeezes continued, but she looked away. Part of her did not want to remember any more of this than necessary. Her focus stretched to the view outside the window and eventually fixed on the branches of a lone conifer reacting to a breeze. She identified with that small tree, feeling similar waves of reactivity lashing through her body.

None of this was what she had expected her first workday to be like.

Doctor Jacobsen's other hand touched the middle of her back, encouraging her to bend the rest of the way over. She realized she was holding her breath. It came out in a long sigh as she laid her torso onto the desk's writing surface. His open newspapers crinkled beneath her chest. The side of her face came to rest on an article about stem cells.

She closed her eyes when he flipped the gathered material of her sundress up onto her back. Then she felt a gentle tugging as his fingers worked their way under the elastic of her thong and began dragging it lower.

A muddled whimper escaped her throat and she squeezed her eyes tight shut as her panties slipped to her knees.

"My, what tan lines you have, Tiffany. Your swimsuit must be quite a spectacle."

"No, I... I did that in private, sir. I would never wear a suit like—"

"They look nearly pornographic."

"That wasn't my... Are you sure my panties need to be down... sir?"

"Oh yes. Most definitely."

Doctor Jacobsen silently knelt behind her, intent on observing every inch of her nakedness. He gripped her uppermost thighs and gently pried them apart.

"Sir, I..."

"Relax. We're just getting to know each other here. You have lovely legs by the way; do you know that?"

"Thank you sir, but—"

Her breath caught sharply as his hand slid between her legs and cupped her sex. She felt his fingers trace a line from her labia backwards, grazing her perineum and anus and then the seam of her ass.

"Jesus, sir!" she squealed, clenching her glutes reflexively around his fingers.

"You did a good job shaving too. It shows-off your anatomy very well."

"Oh my God, sir!" she whined, whipping her face around just as he was standing up. "Why are you looking down there?"

"Are you ready for your spanking now?" he asked, ignoring her. His left hand flattened itself across her tailbone, pressing down on her sacroiliac dimples. His right hand lingered across her butt cheeks, gently stroking the pale skin of her gluteal crease.

Tiffany winced at her own ticklishness. Her jaw clenched. She sucked air through her teeth. She realized she was barely able to keep her eyes focused and felt incapable of speech. Her body was aflame with conflicting instincts and her crotch, for reasons she could not yet imagine, was suddenly soaking wet. Her vocabulary lacked any honest answer to his question.

"That looks like a yes," he said quietly while drawing his right hand back.

"No, wait--"

WHACK!!

"AAAH! Ow, ow, ow, ow... OW!"

"Tiffany, the correct response is: 'one, sir.'"

"Stings! Oh my God that stings! Don't—"

WHACK!

"AIIE! Not so hard, sir, please!"

"You're still at zero unless you count them, Tiffany."

"Just wait! Okay? Pl—"

WHACK!

"AHH! Don't! Don't do that spot again, please!"

"Have you forgotten how to count?"

"Three, sir!"

WHACK!

"Ow!! Goddam it!"

"Since when do you start counting at three?"

"FUH-! God! One, sir!"

"Thank you."

WHACK!

Tiffany yelped as his hand smacked her right butt cheek for the first time. Her left was already covered by four overlapping pink handprints.

There was a moment of silence. She gritted her teeth against the new source of sting.

"Two, sir," she managed finally.

Jacobsen's big hand lifted high and then landed across her left cheek with a resounding 'WHACK!'

"OW!!! No! Please don't hit that side anymore! Please!"

"And that was number....?"

"Um! Three, sir!"

"Thank you."

WHACK!

He was alternating now, so it was her right cheek this time. Her thighs trembled. Her knees flexed. But her ass was so taut that it barely quivered.

"Four, sir!"

Now both sides glowed pink.

"Good girl."

His hand came down low, just to the left of her pussy. WHACK!

Tiffany gasped and coughed. "Fuck that stings! Shit! Five, sir!"

WHACK!

"Six! Six, sir. Wait don't—"

WHACK!

"Fuck! UH! Seven, sir. Please it's too—"

WHACK!

"OW!! Sev—I mean eight, sir!"

"You're halfway. Would you like a little break?"

"Yes, please! God yes!!"

She tried to stand, but his hands stopped her.

"Don't get up. Stay right there. I'll give you a little rub. I think you'll find the sting short-lived."

Jacobsen stepped away to a cabinet behind his desk and retrieved a large plastic jar of shea butter.

"I bought this just for you," he said with a smile as he returned to Tiffany's side and opened the container.

She was desperate for any form of relief, especially on her more-abused left cheek, so she did not protest as she watched him scoop out large dollop of the moisturizer.

"Ooaaahhh..." she cooed as the greasy lotion cooled her cheeks. He smeared it all over the pink handprints and then deliberately dipped his lubricated fingers to enjoy the soft feel of her innermost thighs and parted creases. Soon her entire posterior was glistening with reflections of the overhead lights.

"Such young skin," he whispered as his hand caressed her flesh. He could not resist running his fingers over her shaved genitals again.

She let out a gasp and raised her head from the newspaper. Her wetness was obvious to them both, far more slippery than the shea butter.

"Sir, please don't..." she whispered. But her eyes fluttered and her mouth stopped mid-thought.

He slid his fingers to her clitoris and squeezed. She let out a happy whimper even though her head shook side to side. Her hands scrunched up the newspaper beneath her.

"You like that?" he asked, circling three lubricated fingertips around her clit.

"Ohh... hnn-uh!"

"Yes, I can see that you do. And how about this?"

He slid a finger into her vagina, but only up to its second knuckle.

"Please don't do that. Oh, sir..."

"Don't worry, Tiffany. It's okay. Just let your body respond."

She tried to speak but nothing comprehensible came out. Her vulva was being swirled and stroked and prodded by his fingers. Their expertise rendered her dumb. Her arousal's sudden intensity shamed her, fracturing her will to resist.

Pleasure, and the urgency for more, overrode her agency.

"Such a snug little body," he mused quietly, "And so eager. Yes... you and I may need to spend a great deal of time together."

"MM! Mnn! Mah!" she panted as his fingers slithered all around her clitoris. Then his thumb buried itself into her.

She cried out. Her tailbone arched to meet him.

"Yes, I think you will do nicely here. Why don't you stand up now?"

Jacobsen pulled her upright by one wrist and spun her to face him. His slippery right hand stayed in her crotch from behind while his left arm pulled her close. Before she could even open her eyes, his lips pressed themselves to hers in a fierce kiss. His tongue drove into her mouth.

Alarm bells were sounding inside her skull, but she accepted him. The eroticism of that moment, of being forcefully kissed and touched by one of her new bosses only moments after meeting him, erased everything else from her mind. Resisting never occurred to her.

He squeezed her body to his, stacking her boobs against his thoracic diaphragm. Her arms were bent double and trapped between them. Her face reclined.

What his hand was doing to her crotch felt incredible and something stiff was against her stomach. Her brows furrowed. A high-pitched moan escaped her mouth. It was all so terribly naughty.