Anne's Atonement Ch. 02byThe Needler©
Anne Thiman was lovely, sitting at her desk in the First Colonial Bank, with her frilly lace blouse and black slacks. She smiled frequently, and a casual observer would never be able to guess her secret, ongoing penance. It was a rainy day, bursts of summer thunder in early July, hinting at the Fourth of July fireworks due that weekend, and it suited Jeff North's mood. After a month of knowing how Anne had been stealing from him, he still found himself swimming in pools of outrage from time to time. Word had not leaked out she was in trouble, his conspiracy of humiliation was intact, at least, it was part of the town's unofficial secrets. Jeff's cell phone buzzed; he answered it: "Hello."
"Hello, Jeff." Barry Halls was on the other end. "Ready for tonight's fun and games?"
"You bet. I think we need to take another line completely tonight."
"Suits me, beating her butt is starting to wear me out. What do you have in mind?"
"Two things, but I think we'll go one at a time. She's doing her work well and quietly, the money's halfway back."
"Has she gotten past the new firewall yet?"
"No. You did a good job there. She only has access to what she needs to fix things, not to cause more damage, and you and I know everything she's doing."
"She doing anything on the off hours?"
"No. I set her computer up to log out automatically at 5PM and she can't log in until 9AM. The only remote access is from my station, and she hasn't hacked that yet. Betty's been monitoring her every move online, she's clean."
"Betty hates Anne with a passion. She's been handling the whips and paddles at the Elk's Club sessions."
"Excellent. Looking forward to tonight."
"See you later."
An hour later, Anne came into Jeff's office. "Jeff, I need to know who's been in the audience at our little sessions."
"I've been getting looks from certain people: Brother Travis, my pastor, the school principal, Fern Davis at the malt shop. Are they wearing robes when I'm. . .I'm. . .I'm on display?"
"You don't need to know. Wonder who's seeing you naked and your ass whipped red every week. It may be different people, it may be the same."
"There's one who I know is the same. Enjoying the blow jobs?"
Jeff smiled. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've heard nothing unusual about you around town this month. Has anyone said anything to you?"
She shook her head. "No, no, no. I'm nice to everybody, as usual, give them a chance to reveal themselves, but they don't say anything. There's just a little glint in a few eyes I've spotted."
"This is part of your punishment. You know how small towns are: nobody talks, but everybody knows. No confrontations, no hint of the secrets, but whispers on the side. From now on, whenever you turn on that electric smile, sing on Sunday with your angelic voice, run your household errands during the week, you never know who knows you sins."
She frowned and stamped her foot, but didn't say anything. "It's been hell."
"Has it? Dave say anything to you yet?"
"No. Nothing. Clara's wondering what's up, so I sent her off to another young Christian camp, so she's none the wiser. Blake's still in South Africa and won't be back for a few months. I'm alone."
"Welcome to my world," Jeff replied in a low voice. "Just remember: you brought this on yourself. You present yourself as the righteous Christian role model, you built up the reputation for holiness and piety. You diverted the funds, you took the kickbacks, you gambled with my money. You're lucky I don't take that lovely house up on the ridge with the view. You're lucky I don't take the BMW van, or the convertible. You're lucky I don't take the vacation house in the Florida Keys. Oh yes, I know about that, and the motor yacht with range to make the Caymans. I keep a close eye on you, and that's why I ordered you to surrender your passport. I'm not as stupid as you think I am."
She looked back at him with her baby blue eyes: unsmiling, serious, hostile with a tinge of fear in the background. "You gonna whip my ass again tonight, big boy?"
"You'll find out. Let's have a little suspense: maybe it's the single strand whip, maybe it's the cat o'nine tails, maybe it's the paddle with the holes that leave the delightful Swiss cheese look. Maybe a combination. There's lots of ways we can amuse ourselves. Savor the anticipation."
The rest of the afternoon crawled by for Jeff. He could hardly contain his excitement over his plans for the evening, from time and time he looked through his windows across the lobby to Anne's office, where she was working at her desk. Late in the day, she was talking with a couple, flashing her charismatic smile and caught his gaze out of the corner of her eye. The smile stayed as if painted on, but her eyes shone with fear.
He resisted the urge to masturbate in the Men's Room. A couple of times an alarm went off on his computer: Anne was still trying to break in and ruin him. After a month of regular humiliation, she was still defiant, still looking for a way out of her punishment, a way to turn the tables and send him to prison. Reviewing his security protocols and his password in his mind, he was satisfied that he was protected, especially since Barry automatically knew every move Anne made.
As he left the Bank, a rainbow stretched high in the sky overhead. He looked up at it for several moments and relaxed. The plot was going well, the scene was set for tonight, and he almost longed to go on to the final stage he'd planned. But no, patience would be rewarded, and when he was done, Anne would be forever intimidated.
Thunder rumbled in the west when she knocked three times on the back door of the Elks Club. Jeff had gathered his friends once more, and briefed them earlier: "Tonight, you can allow yourself some verbal response, some gasps and cheers, but no words, please. I appreciate the silence you've observed at our sessions so far; tonight we change things up to keep her guessing. Fern, stay silent, I don't want her to know another woman's here, lets save that for the next stage. I'll give you the high sign, then give her bedlam. It'll be a while."
Anne was led into the room, wearing what she wore at work: the frilly lace blouse, black slacks with red high heels. She started removing her clothes with the order, without speaking. The robed figures stayed perfectly silent, unmoving. First the blouse came off, revealing creamy white skin and a frilly white bra underneath, that scooped her breasts upward and outward, then the slacks revealing calf high nude stockings and the ubiquitous pink polka dot panties. She spun in a circle, teasing them, before reaching back to unhook her bra, throwing it aside proudly with her chest held high and her breasts jutting out. Then she took off her panties, revealing a perfectly shaved crotch. Putting her hands on her head, she looked defiantly at the figures around her. "Let the games begin," she said with an aggressive tone.
"Take off your shoes and stockings." The command came from a different voice, off to the side.
"Variety is the spice of life, isn't it, Barry? All right, I'm game." She stepped out of her heels and pulled off her stockings quickly, standing barefoot before them with her hands folded on her head.
"Put your hands out in front of you."
She looked confused. "Huh?"
"Put your hands out in front of you."
Shrugging, she did as ordered and gasped as a pair of handcuffs were secured quickly on her wrists. They were pulled upward and hung on a hook that made her stand on tip toe. Her eyes darted around, looking for reaction but finding none. Then, a red silk hood was pulled over her head, followed by the sharp crack of a paddle hitting padded flesh. "The hole-ly paddle tonight," she sneered, "what fun!"
There was a awkward pause as she expected an order to be silent, but none came. There were several more smacks of wood against bottom, her cellulite touched apples started turning red. Tonight the strokes fell regularly, machine like, working back and forth to cover every part of her ass. "Hey, you missed a spot, up to the left about an inch," she snapped, "you're getting soft." She yelped and whimpered as she received her spanking, but soon she was shocked as the single tail whip landed across her rock hard nipples with a smack echoed by a crack of thunder directly overhead.
The room erupted in sound: shouting, jeering, laughing. Men's voices in a chorus of ridicule, men's voices reveling in her pain. The welter of sound reached a high point every time the whip laid a new line of pain across her torpedo shaped breasts, making them swing and quickly turning them red around the nipples. She yelled and shouted, but no word was understood. Trying unsuccessfully to dance away from the whip, she jerked back and forth, pulling at her hands to get the overhead support to come out of the wall. With skill and precision, her lovely breasts sprouted a web of red welts from the whip, the skin giving a glow as a sheen of sweat covered her skin. Occasionally, a stroke landed back across her shoulders when she tried to turn too far. The thunder growled overhead to embellish the chorus of shame.
When it was ended, she breathed heavily in the hood, making the front pull in and out dramatically as she tried to catch her breath. A bare hand reached out, touching the sore flesh, running a finger around the sore brown buds, squeezing the funbags and drawing more screams from their owner. The chorus of abuse subsided to enjoy the wails and outcry of their victim. A single voice rang out: "You deserve it, bitch" but wasn't followed by any other voices as the room grew quiet once again. The hood beneath her eyes started growing damp with her tears.
The tableau of the beginning was restored, and they held position as Anne's breathing returned to normal. She subsided to sobs and little snips of high pitched yelps; when the hood was ripped off her face, her eyes were red and her mascara ran in streams down her cheeks. Blinking in the bright white light, she started murmuring at first, growing louder and louder: "You bastards!" Like a mantra she repeated it, growing louder and stronger until she was shouting at the top of her voice.
A hand unhooked her cuffs from the ceiling support and she fell on her sore butt with a thud. A figure detached itself from the semi circle and approached her. A hand made gestures of release, and a naked healthy cock sprouted six inches from her face.
"You think I'm going to keep sucking this thing, don't you? Just like I've done every week since I came here. Well, I won't become your blow job slut, you'll never get me to do this anyplace else in this world. You're lucky I don't bite it off."
A calm, dark voice measured out firm words: "If you do that, you'll be lucky if you end up in jail."
Hands grabbed the sides of her head and the cock plunged between her lips. She gagged initially, then began to lick and suck it. He let her take her time, move from anger to acceptance. He pulled back and she sputtered: "It's always good to see an old friend, isn't it, Jeff?" It moved forward, cutting off her words, pushing in as far as it would go, moving in and out, roughly fucking her face.
The rest of the room stayed quiet as Anne sucked cock. Jeff watched, and was amazed to see some cooperation surface as his friend approached his orgasm. She seemed to be disappointed when he pulled his cock out, stroking it furiously to deposit a huge stream of white magic on her cheeks and mouth. She closed her eyes and waited, and it seemed he would never stop. When it was done, she gulped down the contents of her mouth, waited until her handcuffs were undone and was lifted to her feet.
As she turned to leave, the white polka dots tattooed on her bright red ass stood out, and she held her abused breasts tenderly, crying as she left. The room held its silence until she was gone, when the masks came off.
Fern Davis was a short, plump, wrinkled woman with dark hair and a light hair over her upper lip. She approached Jeff and touched his arm. "Hey buddy, you interested in some action? Can a girl help you out?"
"My wife will be at home," Jeff replied.
"Oh, we don't have to go far, sugar," she said. "Just backstage over there. I'm sure nobody'll mind after that show. I'll take all the frustrated manhood here, any way you want it. How do you want, Jeff?"
He looked at his watch and his friends standing around. "Just a little head, Fern. I don't have to cum."
"That's what you think." She took him behind the screen and almost ripped his pants off. When his cock appeared, she cooed in appreciation and began sucking and licking it, working her tongue all over the head. He was so turned on by Anne's abuse it took less than two minutes to shoot his load, which she sucked down without hesitation.
Fern came out from behind the curtain in search of fresh meat and Jeff went to the bar for a Scotch. Barry was still smiling from ear to ear. "I've got to hand it to you, Jeff. You're doing a great job."
"Thanks, Barry. Did you like the change in the setup tonight?"
"Loved it. We've been doing the same thing pretty much the same way for four weeks, so this change really set her back. Do you think she'll give up and go to prison after all?"
Jeff stroked his chin and thought. "No, I don't. She may be considering it, but she's tough, and in her mind there's still a chance things'll go back to normal. I don't want to push her farther than tonight, but this was fun."
Barry chuckled. "So what's next for her?"
"Oh probably some hot wax, clothespins, maybe tie her tits up and let them turn purple. Combined with the butt work, there's many ways we can mix and match. We can do a lot in the next three sessions."
The room had grown boisterous after Anne left. It was the same group that attended the previous week's sessions, and they enjoyed her pain immensely. Alfie Gardner came up and tapped Jeff on the shoulder, Bourbon traveling on his breath: "Jeff, Jeff, Jeff, you are the best frien' a man ever had. Best Friend! That self rightous bitch d'serves everythin'. Ya put the Fear of God into her tonight, the Fear of God! Keep up the good work, son, and tell me when. . .ta come back!"
He lurched away, and Fern Davis led another man behind the curtain. Several glasses were lifted Jeff's direction across the room, and the School Principal, Dr. Harry Evans, clapped his hand on Jeff's shoulder, his eyes shining, on the verge of speaking for a minute before letting go and wobbling across the room. "It looks like a success to me," Barry said. "You gonna let me do all the talking next week, too?"
Jeff shook his head. "No, we should probably switch it from now on. Need to keep her guessing."
"And the ending."
"Just you wait, Harry Balls."