A Day of First

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As I wake slowly, the warmth of my bed teases me to linger a little longer, but I know I could not stay, as the late dawn of a cold and frosty November morning was already creeping through my window, I stretched, forcing out the kinks in my muscles, I was enjoying the sensation of the soft, warm cotton sheets against my skin.

Then I remembered that today was Friday, and realising this simple fact, meant that I no longer wanted to remain in bed, and I was hoping that today would be a fun day and this filled me with a sudden burst of energy. Friday’s were always the dress down day at work, but this Friday was different, there was this big charity thing on television going on, and the whole office building had agreed to do a sponsored collection for needy children. Someone, from one of the other floors, and I don’t know who exactly, had decided that every office should all go in dressed as pop stars, and we could all then pay for the privilege.

It was a worthy cause, and something to lighten the gloomy days of November so I had chosen to go in a Brittany Spears outfit. There were two reasons for this, the first was a childhood memory, it was the first music video that had inspired me to copy the dance moves to. I was eight-years old at the time and I can well remember dancing around our lounge copying every move Brittany made on the ‘hit me baby one more time’ video, I did not understand the lyrics, but her outfit I could copy, simply because it was almost exactly like my old school uniform.

The second reason was a bit more complicated, but essentially the same, the outfit I thought was rather daring and sexy, and perhaps rather naively I pretended to myself that I might just be able to arouse the interest a certain man.

That man being my boss, the tall, handsome and enigmatic, Mr Cook, he was very clever, very charming and all the girls in the office had a bit of a thing for him. The older ones wanted to Mother him, the younger ones just wanted to do things to him, and hearing them talk at the coffee counter was rather embarrassing, it was lurid and graphic at times. Half of it was beyond what I thought was possible, but I also secretly smiled to myself when overhearing them, because I knew something about him that the other didn’t, and this secret had been consuming my thoughts and was making me excited in ways I had not known was possible.

I would, of course, swear that gaining this information about Mr Cook was an accident, and I certainly had not been meaning to snoop or pry, but during my last performance review Mr Cook had to leave the office, and this left me alone with a very tempting brown folder, just sitting on his desk, and it accidently fell open – honestly!

I had thought it might have been my personnel file, so my curiosity levels had already soared, and I wasn’t so much disappointed at not finding my personnel file, as completely floored. It proved not to be my personnel file, but rather a set of glossy colour photographs and after my initial shock, the images quickly became extremely intriguing and I could not take my eyes off them, and then I noticed that there was also a note attached which read.

‘Sam… thanks for a wonderful night, you were masterful as always, love Emma’

It was the images that left me opened mouth, my heart racing, stomach clenched, in sharp, full colour detail, there was Mr Cook sat upright in a high wooden back chair, with a thoroughly distraught looking woman over his lap, her skirt was pulled up, and her very naked bottom was red, and I could clearly see the outline of handprints all over her bottom. There were other photographs with his hand raised, another with it in mid-air and the final one it had obviously landed squarely on her bum, her legs were kicking out and she looked in real pain.

I was so engrossed in the photographs that I almost missed the sounds of him talking outside the door and I had to hastily rearrange everything back to where it was. As soon as he came back into the room he asked if we could continue our meeting later as something had come up. At that moment I could not wait to agree with him, my cheeks were very flushed, and I felt an overwhelming need to dash to the rest room and think about what I had just seen.

That night at home I thought about what I had discovered and went on line to find out more, and I was really blown away, once I had got through all the stuff on spanking children being a bad and damaging thing, I found some more adult sites that had stories, experiences and even some videos, first I was intrigued, which quickly turned to arousal and by then I was hooked.

I found it totally fascinating how an adult would willingly submit themselves to such a painful, degrading experience, but almost everything I was reading was in the positive, and a lot of it, I found very sexy.

This got me thinking about my own experiences with men, and I could not deny that I had always been left more than a little dissatisfied and unfulfilled, all my previous boyfriends had tended to put canlı bahis me on a pedestal, treating me like a princess in most cases and they seemed at times almost terrified to touch me in case I broke. The two men I had allowed to do more than just hold hands were awkward, and too excited, leaving me distinctly unfulfilled and dissatisfied.

I guess it may not have been their fault completely, as my parents, devout born-again Christians had always ensured my obedience and chastity, my life was very sheltered, and I was always taught the importance in being a good girl and behaving properly, and that is how I acted for the most part, and expected everyone to treat me in that way. I was beginning to accept that, perhaps it was my fault that I had not yet found exactly what I needed to satisfy me, but then good girls should not think that way, and good girls should certainly not be thinking the thoughts that were now crowding my head.

After reading all the stories, and feeling the images seep deep into my consciousness, I could not help myself and ended up naked on my bed driving my small fingers deep into my hot, and very wet pussy. I could not believe how turned on I was and with a deep seated need I had never felt before, I ploughed two fingers in and out of my sex. An hour later I curled up and fell asleep, exhausted after my second extremely powerful climax. They were more powerful than anything I had experienced before, and this only left me wondering what more I could discover, and whether being a bad girl could be even more fun.

I woke sandy eyed, after a restless night filled with vivid dreams involving Mr Cook and his strong hands smacking my bottom. The following day at work, it got worse, I could not concentrate, my mind was going a million miles an hour and the thought of being over Mr Cook lap, my bottom naked and stinging, left me breathless and rubbing my thighs together to try and dull the itch that was making me squirm in my seat.

That night I could not wait to continue my investigations into the world of over the knee spanking and this only fuelled my frustrations, the more I found out, the hornier I became, but the reality was that I had no idea about how I could satisfy my intense curiosity and how to interest Mr Cook in me.

From then on, when I got home after work almost every day, I could not wait to dash to my bed, and touch my increasingly needy pussy, I played for hours as I varied the pleasure in different ways. I even plucked up the courage to purchase, what was for me was a rather impressively sized personal massager, that produced the most delicious sensation of fulness when I plunged it in and out of my pussy. I combined this with my fingers teasing my sensitive clitoris and, finally using my hand to slap my pussy lips until I came harder than ever. Every day since then I have been daydreaming, thinking of different ways to entice Mr Cook, and my nightly reading and viewing habits were now always centred around being spanked by him.

My increasing need, and lustful thoughts were scaring me a little, this was so out of character for me, the modest good girl, who went to church with her parent three times a week, but the more I thought about my new-found interest and knowledge of forbidden things, the more I ached for his attention.

At least todays dress up day may prove to be a starting point, because in all my research I now believed that the naughty school girl look was a favourite spanking theme. I got out of bed, quickly remaking it, ensuring the straightness of the covers, and the exact placement of the bed cushions, before I headed into my bathroom and perform my morning rituals, this did not take long.

A recent habit I had gotten into, thanks to my new-found discoveries, was that once I had finished showering and drying myself, I would check myself over in the full-length mirror, and although not given to conceitedness, I am pleased with what I see, a few short weeks ago I would not have dared to be so provocative as to see myself naked, unclothed so immodestly, but now that my reading habits had changed, I felt more embolden, almost brazen.

At almost twenty-one years of age, my frame is slight, and my delicate pale coloured skin is soft and youthful, my body is now devoid of all hair, something else I read about online and immediately wanted to try. The first time I teased my hairless pussy, the results were mind blowing.

Today I decided to wear some coal black eyeliner, and dark grey eyeshadow, which I hoped would serve to highlight my large baby blue eyes, and give me an air of innocent naughtiness. I had practiced the previous night applying the exact look I wanted so I had not taken long to apply my makeup.

As I look at my naked self in the mirror, I allowed my hands to wander up from my side to cup my breasts, two perky teardrops of soft flesh, my sensitive nipples are dark pink and thick, and they stand proud against the small round darker pink of my puffy areola’s. I exercise twice a week, with the women in the church, bahis siteleri yoga for Jesus they call it, but it has kept my stomach flat, and my limbs supple, my legs look long and sleek, and the space at the top, only serves to lead my eyes to my hairless mound and naked pudenda.

All through my very sheltered life, my parents had taught me that my body was sinful and shameful, and something to be hidden away and not shown under any circumstances, especially to boys who only wanted one thing, and ‘it’ would ruin me, whatever ‘it’ was. I always sighed when my Mother went on about it, if they meant sex, why did they not just say sex, rather than leaving it so vague. The two boys I had known, the first was so excited at the prospect he kept messing in his underpants, then apologizing before hastily letting me out of his car and the second just rammed himself home and was done it about five seconds flat against the back wall of the church, and rather than being ruined, I just felt cheated.

I shook my head, clearing my mind of these kinds of negative thoughts that bubbled up whenever I examined myself in such a detailed way, I knew my life could be different if I was brave enough, and I was determined that it would be bolder in the future.

I reached for my outfit, the plain full coverage bra, that does nothing to enhance my B cup breasts, a short black crop top so that, what little cleavage was displayed, was nestled seductively, if not rather diminutively on view. The high collar white shirt, which I decided to button up properly to travel to work, but fully intend to undo and then tie around my waist once I get into the office. I had thought long and hard about which pants to wear, and settled for some standard white boy shorts that were modest even by my Mother’s standards. I only settled for these, just in case the rather short, grey flannel flared skirt, unexpectedly rose up too high.

Finally, some thick, knee high grey socks, I couldn’t find any then went to mid-thigh so had to make do, although I had found out, when trying them on I could stretch them over my knees, which again I would only do once at work.

The one thing left to do is my pig tails, fortunately my dirty blonde hair is long enough to normally wear in a bun on top of my head, and luckily, I had found some pink ribbon, so it did not take long to achieve the required two loose pigtails finished in pink.

I will be wearing my long winter coat to travel to work, after all, I don’t want people to get the wrong idea, then I giggled to myself, well maybe one man can get the right idea about me.


The office was buzzing, just in our office there was a Diana Ross, a Cher and even Toby, who everyone assumed was Gay came as a rather tame Lady Ga Ga, but we were all waiting with anticipation to see if Mr Cook had joined in, when he arrived there was a general murmur of confusion. He was wearing a tight black suit, a high collared white shirt with a pencil black tie, and it was not until he explained that he had come as his name sake, Sam Cook. A small joke kindly bestowed on him by his soul music loving parents, and apparently sitting on the dock of the bay was playing on the radio when his parents met for the first time.

Even though the day was a great deal of fun, more laughter than serious work, I couldn’t quell my nervous excitement, I had unfastened the buttons on my blouse, then tied the two-loose ends under my breasts, exposing my flat stomach. Toby in a rather bad, squeaky Lady Ga Ga voice had made a real grand gesture in giving me a lollipop, saying it would finish off the sexy schoolgirl look perfectly.

I was feeling quite bold, and a bit reckless so found an excuse to knock on Mr Cook’s door, begging some help with the report that I should have finished on Wednesday, he seemed happy to help, and unfazed by my lateness in finalising the report, I spent as much of the time bent over as provocatively as possible, I saw him looking once or twice, and each time I caught him my thoughts ran away with me.

Just as I was leaving he said, “Abigail, I intend to let everyone go early at three this afternoon, but I would appreciate it if you would remain behind and see me in my office.”

Wow, my heart almost stopped, I must have gawked at him, me and him alone in the office, the thoughts racing through my head must have registered on my face because he asked, “are you alright Abigail?”

I stammered “yes Sir, three o’clock it is.” Then I almost bolted out of the door.

I felt flush, my heart was racing and worse, the itch had started building between my legs, the reality was I had no idea how to proceed and the rest of my day was a complete haze, the thoughts crowding in, the what ifs, the images I had seen, the stories I read, it was all too much, and I jumped every time someone spoke to me.

True to his word, Mr Cook came out of his office just before three, thanking everyone for their hard work and sending them home, this elicited a few cheers and excited laughter. I hung bahis şirketleri back, going to the restroom, washing out my tea cup, just waiting for the last straggler to leave, I do not know why I did not want the others to know about my meeting, but it just felt right, and somehow fun and clandestine, which only increased my excitement levels.

I walked back through the office, it was empty, luckily everyone does not need too much prompting to desert the office in record time, I knocked timidly on Mr Cook’s door.

“Come in Abigail,” I heard him say.

With a boldness I was not feeling, I walked through the door, and Mr Cook immediately indicated the chair I should sit in.

“Thank you for remaining Abigail, I do appreciate your patience as I need to finish up your appraisal, I am sure you are aware that I have to be able to confirm whether you are suitable in your current role before the end of the month.” He smiled at me as his eyes captured mine with the intensity of his stare.

I blushed, fidgeting in my seat, I did not know what to expect when he asked me to remain, and all the wicked thoughts racing through my head since he had asked me never once settled on finishing my appraisal, I guess my confusion was obvious because then he asked.

“Are you alright Abigail? you look a little flustered and in truth, that is one of the things I wish to talk to you about.”

“Um… yes Sir” it was not my most intelligent response.

“Alright right then, we can continue, now Abigail when you first started, I had real hopes for you, you were very professional, quick to pick up all our processes and you produced some excellent work, however I cannot help but have noticed that in the last few weeks that has changed dramatically and I am worried?”

My blush must have turned a deeper shade of red, I knew I had been totally distracted recently, spent hours daydreaming of the things I was now learning about, and to make matters worse, I had been late a few times.

I had not realised that he had noticed, I did not think he was that involved with the day to day running of the office or was taking any interest in me, I started to squirm in my seat, my discomfort must have been obvious.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable, “Take today for instance, Abigail, you came and asked for my help, which of course I am always happy to give you, but it was on something I know you are perfectly capable of handling and have done so on many occasion before today. To make things worse, it was also two days overdue, and this is not like you. I am concerned for you Abigail, you just seem to be so distracted lately, and more than once I have seen you staring off into space and day dreaming.”

I did not know how to respond, I looked down nervously at my hands, now gripped tightly on my lap.

“Abigail, you need to talk to me, be honest with me about whatever it is you are struggling with, I truly want to help you but if you cannot be honest with me than I cannot help.”

His voice was kind, carrying a real sense of concern for me and I felt wretched, I had stolen a peek into his personal life, which was very bad of me, and yet the whole idea had so consumed me, my dirty thoughts occupying me so much that I was in danger of losing everything, but I still could not speak, I was terrified.

Maybe he could see my confusion, sense my terrible inner turmoil, because very quietly he said, “Abigail, please don’t be scared, just tell me what is worrying you, and I am sure we can work it out for you?”

“Spank me…” the words had left my mouth before I had even realised I was talking, realised what I was saying, it was like another woman had come into the room, standing behind me to grip my shoulder and say the words, I was horrified. My hands flew up to cover my face, and I groaned, shame washing over me like a tidal wave.

I forced my eyes open, looking at him through the small gaps in my fingers, desperately trying to gauge his reaction, he did not seem surprised, he did not even immediately denounce me and tell me to get out, which I found strange, and confusing, he just looked at me, his head tilted to one side slightly, then he smiled warmly once more.

“Abigail, what on earth makes you think that I would undertake to inflict such a thing on one of my employees?” his voice was almost musical, sounding amused more than mad or irritated.

Lowering my hands, I tried to smile back at him but failed, not only was my voice betraying me, but my body was also, I could not smile, could not move, I just stared at him like a rabbit caught in headlights. Then the other, bolder, more brazen woman, hiding behind my back spoke up, “Please Sir… I want to be spanked” damn that woman, all the dirty thoughts and dreams I had were crowding my thoughts, making it difficult to concentrate.

“Abigail, I now wonder why you would think I would be capable…” then his voice trailed off, and I could tell he was thinking hard, and suddenly he stared at me with a look that shook me to my very core. He stood up from his chair, turning to face the window, “Abigail, I am right in thinking that during your last assessment you broke my trust and opened a particular, closed brown folder that was on my desk?”

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