CHAPTER 1 - BUTTOCKS AND THIGHS.

 

"Bend over the back of the chair!" Snapped Mr Griffon. "Hands on the seat, legs apart, feet on the outside of the back legs!"

Trembling with fear and humiliation, Sally obeyed his instructions.

As she bent forward she felt her skirt ride up at the back, but mercifully it stopped just in time to avoid revealing her knickers. She waited, her mouth dry and her knees shaking, for her sentence to begin.

Behind her, out of her line of vision, someone stood up. She presumed it would be Mr Griffon. She heard him walk the few paces towards her.

"Very well," he said, his voice surprisingly close. Sally had never been in such a vulnerable position with an older man in such close proximity before.

"Repeat your sentence for tonight!" he said.

"Err, t... twelve, twelve of the slipper. From each of you," she stammered, her face crimson with embarrassment. She knew she had missed out the worst part.

"AND?" Mr Griffon demanded loudly. "The rest of it, girl. What's the rest of it?"

"Oh please, Sir, please Mr Griffon, not, not. Please don't make me." Her voice tapered off to a sob. He was unmoved.

"What is the rest of your sentence? Come on, girl. Let's hear it!"

Sally fought down another sob and whispered, "On my bare bottom, Sir."

"So, it's twelve strokes of the slipper from each of us, on your bare bottom. Am I correct?" His voice was stern, unforgiving.

Sniffing as tears ran from her eyes and dripped off her nose, Sally nodded her head and said,

"Yes, Sir," then broke again into open crying.

"Oh, shut up! Stop that whining!" Mr Griffon's wife snapped at her. Then to her husband, "Let's get on with it. I want to see her dance as she pays for the trouble she's caused!"

"Very well," Mr Griffon repeated.

Sally felt his hands against the tops of her legs as he took hold of the hem of her skirt, then felt him lift it away from her bottom and lay it over her back, leaving her knickers on full view.

Pale blue, full bottom cotton knickers, from Marks and Spencer.

"Good. Sensible knickers," said Mr Griffon as her ran his hands over them. "They fit well, don't you agree?" he asked his companions.

There was a murmur of agreement from the other three.

"Would anyone like to check the fit before we start?"

Sally's heart sank even lower as he said it, and the other two approached.

Seconds later hands were all over her cotton encased bottom, stroking and kneading her buttocks, tracing their fingers along the seams and elasticated edges of her panties. Her shame and humiliation reached new peaks as hands wandered everywhere and the merits of her bottom were discussed.

She jumped and squeaked as a hand slid between her legs and checked the fit of her gusset.

"Keep still, girl," a woman's voice snapped. Mrs Griffon again. "I'm not sure she's really filling the gusset properly," her voice went on. "What does everyone else think?"

Sally fought to keep still and suppress her outcries as the space between her legs was invaded in a completely free and casual manner, with no regard for her privacy or feelings.

Her breath was coming in gasps now as, to her eternal shame, Sally felt arousal pushing through all of her other turmoil of feelings.

No, no, she couldn't be being turned on by this awful situation. She couldn't be, indeed she would not be! How could she let herself be?

But the warm dampness growing inside her was undeniable, and when the first finger slid inside her gusset and touched her pussy she groaned and shuddered.

"Enough, I think. We must get on. We have a lot to get through this evening," Mr Griffon declared.

"Now, if everybody is satisfied she has met our first requirements, we will move on. Time to roll these down out of the way and discover the secret treasures beneath!"

He beamed at his compatriots.

Sally felt his fingers slide under her waist elastic and begin to roll her panties down, steadily revealing her bare bottom to the small audience. He took his time, making quite sure the material rolled perfectly evenly all the way.

Sally's insides were in utter turmoil.

Her embarrassment was off the scale.

She was humiliated, knowing that in seconds all the lifetime secrets between her legs would be on open display to her employers. Places even she herself had never seen, never wanted to look at. Places her fumbling boyfriends had never actually seen. Even her fiancée Mark had never taken the trouble to undress her and reveal her charms so carefully and in such a tantalising manner. She had always hoped he would, but assumed that would happen once their initial youthful passions were assuaged.

Now it was happening under duress, as part of a punishment. Not at all, in her wildest dreams or worst nightmares, what she had ever expected.

But mixed in with her trepidation and fear of the pain to come, was arousal. Raw, lustful arousal, exacerbating her own feelings of shame and confusion.

And it was growing with every roll of her knickers, every inch of buttock skin revealed. The touch of Mr Griffon's fingers against her, the coolness of the air flowing over her bare skin, and the awareness of the show she was putting on, all stoked the arousal that was beginning to grow deep between her legs.

Finally her knickers reached the crease between bottom and thigh. Her buttocks were now completely exposed and available for punishment.

One more roll and her pussy would begin to be exposed.

As Sally expected, the lowering of her panties stopped at this point. Her bottom was now completely vulnerable and the punishment area was well defined by her waist band at the top of her skirt, and the tightly rolled panties at the junction of her thighs and her buttocks.

To her consternation she felt slightly disappointed. Against all her instincts, she had to admit she actually wanted Mr Griffon to continue rolling down her knickers, just a little more.

He stood up.

"Keep still for your punishment, girl!" he said in a gruff voice. "Count them out. Loud and clear. Say 'Thank You' for each one."

Back to harsh reality, Sally gritted her teeth. The erotic daydreams she had begun to sink into were snatched away, to be replaced by the knowledge that she had thirty six strokes of the slipper to face and cope with.

Fear of the pain now crawled across her mind and her belly, firmly shutting down any more of the sensual dreams which had invaded her earlier.

 

Mr Griffon allowed himself a generous time to get to know his target.

Sally again had to sniff back tears of apprehension and humiliation as his hands kneaded and squeezed, and his finger probed and touched places which made her instinctively clench.

"Now, just a few hand pats to pink you up a bit, and we'll get started."

He proceeded to land half a dozen fairly hard slaps on each of Sally's buttocks. Hard enough to make her squirm and gasp "ow" a couple of times.

"Now we're ready!" announced Mr Griffon, and the first strike from his rubber soled slipper landed.

"OW, OW!"

Sally yelped with shock at the severity of the pain. "Oh no, I can't, I can't take more of those. Please."

"Then shall we ring the police about the dress?" Mrs Griffon asked in a mockingly concerned tone.

"No. Oh no, please, no."

Sally's horror at the alternative came through in her desperate pleas.

"Then I'll carry on, shall I?" asked Mr Griffon. "No more interruptions. And there's no need to tell us it hurts. We already know that. Just count them out. Start again. We'll disregard that one as a tester!"

Sally cried and sobbed, tears streaming again, but there was no way out. Awful pain and humiliation here, or the same at the police station. At least this one was private. She gritted her teeth, newly resolved to go through with this physical torment rather than face the public disgrace.

She nodded her head, and in a tiny voice she said, "Yes Sir."

Again the flexible rubber sole slapped home hard and again her buttocks flattened and wobbled from the impact, then burst into flame.

This time Sally managed to convert her yelp of pain into her shout of "ONE, thank you Sir."

Mr Griffon took his time, letting each burst of fire soak in thoroughly, building up the tension in expectation of the next one. He also delivered his strokes at irregular intervals, so that Sally had no chance of timing her breathing or her mind-set in preparation. Every single strike was an agonising surprise.

Mr Griffon had chastised many girls before. By the time the first dozen were over Sally was dancing on her toes at every strike, kicking her legs and shaking her head, squirming her entire body regardless of the embarrassing display she was treating her audience to. The pain in her bottom was unbearable, but she had to bear it, she had no choice.

"We will take a five minute break now, I think. Sally will stand up and hold her skirt high so that we can observe the effect of the slipper."

Sally stood upright, her backside in flames and her legs shaking. Her hair a complete mess from being frantically shaken while hanging upside down over the chair. Her face streaked with remains of the light, tasteful make-up she always wore, tear tracks running upwards to her hairline.

The vivid red glow of her bottom shone out, and deeper purple bruises were beginning to form.

 

"Right, my lady wife next I think. Are you ready, my dear?"

"Oh yes! I'm ready for this one!" she snapped, and stood up.

 

Earlier that evening Sally had stood in front of the door to the fitting room, glancing at the clock on the wall at the far end of the corridor, waiting for the moment.

She was shaking with fear and apprehension, twisting her fingers together. She could hear voices through the door, but she couldn't tell what they were saying, or how many people were waiting for her in there.

The minute finger of the clock moved on with a loud 'clunk'.

Downstairs she could hear the rest of the staff saying their 'Goodnights' as they exited the building through the stock room.

Silence fell.

The finger moved on another click.

Sally's knees shook. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. She suddenly wanted to pee, but it was too late. There wasn't time.

She couldn't believe she was in this situation.

She was sure the dress had been perfect when she had returned it. She had only worn it for a couple of hours, and then only to a very select cocktail party.

Her first.

That was why it had been so important that she wore something 'right'.

If she was going to enter her chosen law firm, even as not much more than a tea girl, her dress had to be right.

This one had been perfect.

With a price tag of over a thousand pounds, it couldn't be anything less than perfect. It had looked stunning on her.

But now she was accused of stealing it, and damaging it, and trying to sneak it back into stock without telling anyone.

It meant disaster.

Disaster to her career, disaster to her family, disaster to her hopes of marrying Mark.

The finger moved to the last but one minute marker.

Her shaking grew more marked as she fought the tears back.

How had it all gone so wrong?

The clock 'clunked' the final time, and Sally timidly tapped on the door.

"Come in!" called Mr Griffon.

Sally's trembling hand turned the handle and opened the door. She stepped through into the large, luxuriously appointed fitting room.

There were three of them, sitting behind a table, their heads turned to watch her enter.

Mr and Mrs Griffon of Griffon's Gowns, her employers, and between them, to her horror, the man who was to be her boss for the first stage of her career as a lawyer!

'I'm finished' thought Sally miserably.

Before them, a few feet away, was a stand with the dress fitted to it, the awful tear clearly visible. Beside the dress stood a sturdy wooden chair and one of the low boxes used for the adjustment of dress lengths on clients.

"On the box. Shoes off!" Mrs Griffon snapped.

Fighting tears, Sally slipped off her shoes and stepped up onto the black felt which covered the top of the box. She turned to face her judges.

"No point going through it all again," began Mr Griffon. "We've been over it too many times already. Despite your claims that you didn't damage the dress, you have admitted that you took it without permission, and you wore an exclusive design of ours in public without permission. I know you say you thought you had permission, but we did not give you permission. We would never have granted such a request. So what you claim you thought is irrelevant. A thousand pounds worth of our merchandise is ruined, and the design has been revealed in public. We have lost months of work, and you are responsible!"

His face clearly brooked no more argument or discussion. He had laid out the facts fairly, and Sally knew she had no credible defence.

Mrs Griffon took over.

"We could call the police right now. You will be arrested for stealing from us and damaging our property. You will be tried in the magistrate's court and sentenced, and then we will sue you for our loss of earnings from the design you have compromised!"

Her short, harsh harangue was enough to tip Sally over into a flood of tears. She broke down completely, sinking to her knees and sobbing into her clenched hands.

She could only repeat over and over "No, oh no, oh please no."

She could see herself on the front page of the local paper, maybe even on local TV.

"Promising law student 'Rips Off' society dressmaker."

Her parents would be so ashamed and angry, her step sister, June, would be insufferably smug.

All hope of a law career would be gone, and her family could never pay if they were sued. They would have to mortgage the house, maybe even lose it. All because of her. The prospects became blacker by the second until Sally's mind was a whirl of despair.

"However," Mrs Griffon continued in a softer tone, "there could be another possibility."

Sally looked up, a tiny spark of hope lighting up inside her.

"We could arrange punishment here, in private."

Sally climbed to her feet and wiped away her tears.

"Punishment? Here? And no court, no police?"

Mrs Griffon nodded, the others stared at her with stern expressions.

"No police, no courts, no publicity. You will simply attend here for your punishments when you are called."

Sally looked from one to the other, then, too relieved to understand the implications of her sentence, she gushed out,

"Oh yes, yes please. Anything. I'll do anything. Thank You, Thank You."

She began to sob again, this time more from relief and gratitude.

"It will be hard. It will be real punishment. Don't expect an easy option. And it will be different. And you will work for nothing to repay the money you owe us!"

Sally nodded enthusiastically.

"Oh I will, I will. Thank You, Thank You. And I will take my punishment. I will!"

Mr Griffon stood up and began to pace around the box, circling Sally. Taking in her trim figure. A small bust, tight waist and a promising roundness to her rear. She tried to follow him with her eyes, but he told her to stand still.

"You will undergo a series of, er, trials. Each one more difficult, more demanding. Harder to cope with. When we are satisfied with your performance the punishment will end. If you fail to complete the trials we set for you, we will call the police immediately. Do you understand?"

Sally didn't understand, but nodded again. She wasn't going to risk them calling the police right now. Whatever these 'trials' were, they couldn't be worse than the public disgrace an arrest and trial would bring.