Naughty Girl Ch. 03

"Yes, sir, thank you sir," she demurely answered.

"Run along then. Keep that thing between your legs covered in future. It isn't supposed to be given away so cheaply," he admonished her.

Bernice glanced in the direction of his pointing finger, and slunk off. She had been standing before him trying to keep her pussy covered. Every scathing remark was deserved. She felt like a low form of life, scraped off his shoe. What he said to her was so very true, and so very bad.

The shower was scolding hot, yet nothing could scour away the feelings of being nothing more than a dirty little bitch. The prospect of a full night of sleep didn't hold much hope either. Her father had always said, a night's rest would set things right by morning. She wondered if she could sleep with thoughts of this dreadful day buzzing through her head. Dare she sleep with the possibility of terrifying nightmares?

"Wrap a towel around you, and go into the bedroom opposite," Paul shouted through the door, after hearing the shower stop.

His voice made her jump. She pulled the door open a crack, to see him returning to the lounge. She scampered into the room opposite. Laid out on the bed was clothing, as promised. It seemed she was too filthy a slut for him to take advantage of. It was both a relief, and another put down.

Pulling on the dress, she found it was too large. It made her feel like a little girl trying on a big sisters clothes. The A-Line dress flared out from below her bust, to swirl around her knees. There was no bra, so maybe he thought she didn't need one. She pulled on the big white panties, hoping they would stay up.

As near as ready as it was possible to be, she timidly walked into the lounge.

"I'm in here," his voice shouted from the kitchen. "I'll make you something to eat. Anything your allergic to? Go find out how the washing machine works. The maid won't be in until Monday, and you'll need your school uniform," he told her.

She stood by the table waiting for permission to sit down. He just used the one word, 'sit', so she sat, and picked up the sandwich. The Ardennes pate was meaty and tangy. She would have liked a Rich Burgundy to go with it, only he provided lemonade, with a straw. Trying to be a good little girl, she ate and drank without fuss.

"Thank you sir. I don't deserve your kindness," she modestly spoke.

"You look sorry for yourself, and so you should. Just put the dishes in the washer, and come into the lounge, when everything is clean and tidy. You can do that without breaking anything, can't you?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, thank you sir," she respectfully replied.

She walked in to stand before him, trying to look like a reformed character. Shaking off Barbara might not take too long, though recovering her self-worth would take far longer, if ever.

"I didn't hear breaking plates. Did you do a thorough cleaning job?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, honest sir," she said, trying for an appeasing sincerity. She meant to please him, as she needed to make amends to someone.

"Shall I take you home and tell your parents what I know?" he asked.

"Please, sir, no, sir," she whined. She gave him her best little girl lost expression, designed to gain his acceptance. One foot was crossed over the other, as she struck a gouache girly pose.

"You need punishing, to fix in that silly head of yours how to behave properly. If you won't allow your parents to do it, then I will," he sternly said.

"Yes, sir," is all she could say. He was right, she deserved punishing for what happened out there. It was all her fault, with no one else to blame. She had flaunted her body, and behaved badly. She looked down at the plush carpet, to see a tear drop soak into it.

"Come here," he demanded. He tapped his knees, and was satisfied to see her bend over them. She squirmed into place, until folded over his lap.

"This will hurt. You ready for a spanking?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she bravely answered.

He lifted the back of the dress. Pulled at the large white panties, for them to fall around her ankles. Feeling them slither down her legs, she whimpered.

Smack! The sound of a hard hand striking her soft fleshy bottom was a shock. The stinging hurt was more so. She steeled herself to suffering an undignified spanking, knowing it was fully deserved. Barbara the slut was being reduced to a repentant little girl. So was Bernice, the important business woman.

Another hard slap rocked her cheeks. This time she yelped from the pain. One after another the smacks shook her body. She tried not to squirm, even though her cheeks felt so painful. She locked both thumbs together to prevent covering her bottom.

After six he stopped. His hand was stinging, though it didn't look as hot as her bare ass. He had surprised himself, not intending to hit her so hard. He gently rolled her off his knees, where she struggled to stand upright. Her panties were around her ankles. He was surprised she didn't stoop to pick them up. Less so, than when she agreed to be spanked.

"What do you say?" he demanded.

"Thank you sir, for punishing me, err, for spanking me," she whimpered. Only just refraining from rubbing her sore bottom, she stood at attention before him.

"You've been a dirty slut. Say it," he quietly told her.

"I've been a dirty slut, sir, sorry sir," she agreed.

"Now you've been spanked, do you agree to behave yourself like a decent young girl," he wanted to know.

"Yes, sir. Now I've been spanked, I'll try real hard to be a decent little girl," she promised.

Paul studied her with a hard expression. She dare not look up at him. She struck a little girl lost pose, looking contrite. She looked as though she would promise anything at that moment.

"Go stand in the corner with your hands on your head. Pull up those panties, before you trip over, girl," he scolded her.

He selected a file from the brief case to study a photo. It was her alright. He had researched the company, its finances, and its employees. He had an eye for faces, and had a good look at her in the greasy burger bar.

It shocked him to realise a young guy was screwing her in public. It occurred to him she might be a younger sister. While she served customers he decided it really was Bernice. He always looked for weaknesses in a company when sent as a consultant, but this was dynamite!

It was unusual, but obviously she was playing a dirty game. How he was going to use this against her would have to be decided by Monday morning.

He added more notes to the file. There wasn't much else to peruse. He kept her waiting for as long as his patience lasted.

"Come here, girl," he ordered.

"Tell me what you have been up to today. Tell me everything!" he warned.

"I couldn't, err, I can't. It's too dreadful," she stammered.

"Did you suck them all off earlier?" he asked.

"No! Just Harry," she started to excuse herself, only to fail dismally. She had just admitted to giving that boy a second blow job! Paul had witnessed everything else.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. I won't do it again, I promise. I'm so very sorry, sir," she pleaded, while wringing her hands in anguish.

He was used to making difficult decisions. On one occasion he had to close a company. This time there wouldn't be the grief from employees losing their jobs. This looked like turning out to be a pleasure. He liked playing games, though it would be under his rules, not hers.

"Your parents should be informed. Though I'm sure you don't want anyone to find out about this," he stated.

"Please sir, don't tell them, please!" Bernice begged.

"The only way I'll keep your dirty secret, is for you to do as I say," he said. She had been struck dumb. Her head nodded once, then rested upon her chest. She looked beaten, but he wasn't one to take a chance.

"You'll do exactly as I tell you. All the time, from now on, until I think you've learned how to behave like a decent young girl. Do you understand?" he demanded.

"Yes. Yes, sir, thank you sir," she pathetically agreed. She didn't know how to react in this situation, besides, what could she do or say, but agree to anything he demanded. Acting like a little girl trying to be good was all she could come up with.

He was appraising her, like one of his works of art. He seemed to like what he saw. That was both good and bad.

"Lift up that dress," he said, with a frown creasing his brow.

Without the slightest hesitation she lifted the hem around her waist.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself again," he plainly stated.

In dismay she realised the panties were wet! Her nipples were small pebbles. Her breasts were tingling. The warmness of her breasts was spreading to her tummy. An all too familiar hot feeling between the legs, heralded an uncontrollable need was on its way.

Soon she would be dripping on his precious white carpet. He had been toying with her, and so was he now going to play with her? Despite it being him, she couldn't deny the feelings that surged within. After being so badly humiliated, it was awful to feel how aroused she had become.

She had hired him to advise her on a business strategy. Now she was a sex doll, ready to be played with. More than ready, she was breathing heavily, needing it, needing to be satisfied.

Paul watched her visibly heating up. She was so aroused she couldn't stand still. It looked as though her motor was running, ready to get off.

"You really are a hot slut! I didn't spank you hard enough!" he sternly said.

"Do you want to spank me?" she slowly said. She was looking at him through long eyelashes, flaring her nostrils. The tone of voice indicated she was ready for whatever pleased him.

"Pull your dress down, you dirty little slut," Paul managed to say. He was tempted, but there was a long term strategy forming in his mind.

Bernice felt as though he had slapped her face hard. The desire was ready to explode. She was prepared to crawl to him, and beg for his cock. All that stopped her was a look of disdain on his face. Even that insult aroused her. She trembled with lust.

"Go to your room! I don't want to see you until morning," he growled at her.

In the spare bedroom she threw herself on the bed. As soon as Paul was asleep, she would phone home to make sure her husband was there to pay for a taxi. At least dressed like this she looked respectable, even if she didn't feel it.

Utterly shattered, she spread her legs to try and quell the fire. She began to furiously frig herself. It was no good. Kept on a high, unable to orgasm, she began to fantasise.

The boys in the woods were taking her one after another, using all her holes. They were robbing her of all self-worth, with every cock entering her. They called her a worthless whore, and she sank deeper into being what they wanted her to be.

"I'm your fucking whore, fuck me hard. Make me cum, please let me cum," she murmured over and over. "I promise to stay with you. I'll be your gang slut, and be ready for your use, whenever, and however you want me. I promise to do anything you want, just let me cum, please!" she whispered.

She imagined three of them at once taking her. It wasn't love making, they were simple making use of a willing body. With a finger in her bottom, another in her vagina, and furiously thumbing her clit, she at last began to climax.

It was a desultory unsatisfying event, so she managed to keep it quiet. It was just enough to quieten the demands of her body. The heavy demands of the long sordid day were exhausting. Her breathing calmed down, and her eyes closed. Murmuring that she should phone home, tailed off into a soft snoring.

Paul listened at the door. The heavy breathing revealed what she was doing. The murmuring was enough to piece together her fantasy. He figured from how she reacted, and what he had seen, that she was turned on by humiliation. Being treated like a naughty little girl was a particular turn on.

Still unsure what to make of it, he decided to keep up the pretence. He would continue the charade, while pretending not to know who she was. It would be an interesting weekend.