A Secretaty is Punished	Back to T	Back to main page

Collected by Djian
update oct 30 - 2011

Another story by Surtea | stories

Mm/f, humil, bdsm, exhib,

A Secretary is Punished
By Surtea - 2011

surtea@live.co.uk

Back in the 1960s and 70s a French artist by the name of Joseph Farrel created a sizeable number of BDSM drawings. He felt that the drawings were works in themselves and that people should make up their own stories to go with them. Later the drawings were published with short vignettes by Robert Merodack and others. Joseph Farrel is sadly now dead and much of his work is out of print.

For my own amusement I have written my own short stories to accompany some of the drawings. Here is one of them. Let me know what you think.

This one is for Jennifer, may it make her big tits hot and her nips all stiff and sore!

A SECRETARY IS PUNISHED

A carefully defined punishment, regularly and correctly applied to an absent-minded or uncooperative young woman generally gives excellent results as to her behaviour. Little by little she comes to accept this correction as a natural and justified measure from which she may even obtain a sort of perverted personal satisfaction. The fact that the punishment is inflicted in front of witnesses considerably increases its efficacy, adding to the warming blows of the whip a salutary feeling of shame. Roland Charles fully understood all of this, and he decided to set Michelle, his new secretary’s punishment time on Friday mornings at 11am.

For her first time, he decided to take advantage of the spring sun and decreed that the correction should take place on the balcony of his office, and Michelle can only obey. She doesn't dare protest, by the way, as she has learned from rereading the contract that she signed two months ago that resigning from Charles & Associates Ltd would result in her having to repay her salaries for the previous quarter. This she could in no way afford to do and so she was trapped. The contract also contained clauses related to ‘reasonable chastisement’, and her boss, Roland Charles, one of the two partners, decided precisely what was reasonable.

When he had informed her that he preferred her to wear short skirts and low-cut blouses she had thought that he was merely joking and continued to wear the more elegant dresses she favoured. So when Roland called her on to the balcony and she saw he had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves she was dumb-struck: he actually planned to beat her!

She swiftly found her wrists bound to the railing and her dress and slip bunched round her waist.

Her panties were pulled down to her knees and she heard her boss’ clear voice.

“Twenty strokes of the crop, Michelle. Then we can discuss your future dress code.”

She tried to keep quiet, but the pain was so much more than anything she had previously experienced that soon she was squealing and by the twelfth stroke crying out loud. The noise drew a small crowd to watch the show. Michelle did not believe things could get worse.

However, the comments of the amused passers-by increased her humiliation to an intensity that she could not have imagined.

“Congratulations, sir, that's the way to deal with women!”

“Look at her carefully, Yvonne. Is she screaming for help? Is she going to complain to the police? You don't need a box round the ears; you need the crop, just like this one. Just wait till we get home.”

“Aha, it's Michelle! I told you that cooperation was the best way. I think you are going to feel that stinging for the whole weekend.” This last was from Susanne, the secretary of David Charles, the other partner. She had advised Michelle to go with the system and not to fight it. She always wore tight pencil skirts on her boss’ instructions and cashmere sweaters with no bra below.

When the beating was finally done, Roland drew up a chair and sat down beside her and in front of the still fair-sized crowd: “I’d like to discuss your new dress code.”

“Please, not here. Please, let me go inside!” Michelle sobbed in distress, but her boss ignored her.

“Now, as of Monday you will wear the following: skirts that have a hem ten inches above your knees or hot pants with my permission, blouses that are tied below your breasts and unbuttoned to the height of your nipples or a lycra tube top, no bras, a G-string, stockings if you like but they must finish below the skirt hem, shoes with heels no lower than today’s. Is that clear and will you obey?”

“Yes! Yes, sir! Please let me go inside.”

“OK, but Monday you come and see me as soon as you arrive and bring a ruler.”
Michelle considered not turning up on Monday, but the thought of the debts made up her mind. She spent Sunday evening sewing the hem up on a tennis skirt. Ten inches above her knees meant there was only one inch from hem to crotch. She only had one g-string, given her as a joke at a hen party and that meant a lot of shaving to stop hair poking out. She was left with just a little V above her slit. Stockings were impossible, ending them below her hem was too slutty for words.

When she got to the office and took off her coat she was greeted by wolf-whistles from her co-workers. Trying not to cry she picked up a ruler and marched into her boss’ office and shut the door. Roland smiled in approval and had her do a turn. He stood up and squeezed one of her breasts in its tied-off blouse to check she was not wearing a blouse even though that was perfectly obvious to anyone. Then taking the ruler he knelt and measured her skirt, before telling her to raise it so that he could inspect her underwear.

“You’ve done really well; I am impressed. You have a beautiful, sexy bellybutton; I’m surprised you’ve never had it pierced.”

Two days later, after endless teasing from the entire staff, Michelle begged her boss to allow her an extra inch on her hemlines as every time she moved she flashed her little G-string at someone. Roland readily agreed to this, in return for a blowjob each morning. From there Michelle’s descent into degradation began because while David had coerced Susanne into being a classy mistress, Roland wanted his secretary to be a complete and utter slut.

In the months that followed Michelle tried to leave her job, but discovered that since the weekly public chastisements had begun her reputation in town was gone; the only job she was offered was as a stripper. And she would owe the company so much money. And soon there were certain intimate pictures that Roland had taken.

Six months after she started, Michelle came in to the office looking very different than the secretary who had started at the company. She hung up her coat and slipped off her two inch heel shoes, replacing them with patent black high-heeled and platform-soled ankle boots. She stood up and tottered towards Roland’s office, displaying to one and all the outrageous outfit she was wearing.

The inch she’d gained on her hemline had been lost together with a further half-inch besides. The hem of the black leather micro-skirt now only covered her if she stood absolutely still, as soon as she moved she revealed her limited underwear, on the very rare occasions when she was wearing any at all. Her fishnet stockings ended at mid-thigh which only acted to highlight the exposed bare flesh above. Today she had on a completely see through tube-top made from something akin to pantyhose material. This way her breasts were clearly visible including the little gold barbells that helped keep her nipples permanently erect. Her bellybutton was pierced now, and from it dangled a golden charm in the shape of an erect penis.

Her facial make-up and hair were as before, Roland wanted a prim face and a slut’s body. As she hurried to give her boss his morning blowjob, she could feel the chain of six steel balls in her cunt and the long thick flexible plug anchored in her rectum. From both dangled long strings each with a ring at the end that hung down well below her hem so that everyone in the office would know she was plugged. Roland had put them in just before she went home the night before.

She hoped that if she did a really good job with her mouth he would take them out before she had to sit on her vibrating office stool. The stool was irresistible and was guaranteed to bring her to orgasm at least once every morning, but whenever Roland inserted toys in her bottom and pussy the office got to see a whole parade of climaxes. She hated the cheers every time she came and the automated electronic scoreboard on the office wall that kept track. It was entitled ‘Slut Cums’ and had categories for: Cums Today, Cums This Week; Cums Monthly and Annual Cums as well as the record number of climaxes in an hour, day and week. With each climax the board made a load buzzing sound so that no one could miss it, even if she did manage to keep it quiet. She hated that board more than anything else, especially the records section that proclaimed that in one appalling day she had orgasmed 16 times including five in a single hour when she had completely lost her self-control.

Michelle deepthroated Roland for all she was worth, gagging and choking till she finally felt his cock shooting its load down her gullet. She dutifully licked the penis clean then begged him to let her take out the toys. He agreed that she could remove one, but only if she did out in the outer office where everyone could see. She pleaded for privacy but he was firm.

Finally she chose to remove the vaginal balls as she knew these would make her climax more and so, in the middle of the office, she spread her legs and squatted slightly. Roland held up her miniskirt so all could see as the six metal balls reappeared one by one from her shaven twat. They could also see the last of her piercings: a prominent gold ring through her clitoris. Every person in the building seemed to be there; they must have been warned. Worst of all was seeing Susanne’s wicked, teasing sneer. And of course everyone could see from the dangling string and its ring that her backside was still full.

“And here is your new chair!” said Roland as he pulled out her seat from under her desk.

“No! Noooo! Not that! Please! Please, sir!” Michelle stared at her modified typing chair. Whereas yesterday it had had a diabolical raised central ridge that fitted into her crotch and randomly vibrated all day, now it was much worse. A thick, slightly-curved dildo rose from the centre of the ridge culminating in a wicked, flared head. It must have been at least ten inches long and already glistened with lubrication!

“And look, my dear, it does tricks!” Roland flicked the switch on his remote and the artificial organ began to visibly vibrate and thrust up and down telescopically.

“No! Please, no!” Michelle was sobbing and hiccupping now. She barely noticed as Roland and Susanne guided her to her place. But she certainly noticed as they eased her down! The huge head forced her lips apart drawing a wailing whinny from the poor girl. In seconds she was seated, to applause from the whole team. Susanne wheeled her up to her desk and Roland pressed the button.

“O-o-o-oh! Oh no! Oh God! Oh please!” Michelle tried to rise only to find that Susanne had buckled the lap strap to hold her firmly in place. She knew from experience that she would now not be released till lunchtime. The sensations in her crotch were mind-boggling; she knew there was no way she could holdout against them.

“Aren’t you glad you chose to remove the balls and not the plug? Imagine that thing up your arse and the balls in your cunt,” sneered Susanne. “Still there’s always tomorrow! I’ll have to talk to Roland.”

By the time the girls released her to take her to the café for lunch; Michelle had climaxed an incredible 22 times. Roland had left the vibrator on the entire time. Initially she had struggled against her fate thinking of anything that might distract her. However for the last hour she had just lain with her head on the keyboard, barely noticing the loud buzz as the scoreboard clicked up yet another orgasm. She had become an unthinking fuck animal, little more than an extension of the machine she was sitting on. Her initial hope that the batteries would wear down was dashed when she realised that a wire ran from the chair to a nearby socket: it ran off mains electricity.

“Oh thank God,” she mumbled as she finally felt the chair pulled back. “Please undo me! I have to rest…”

“Sorry Michelle!” giggled one of the girls, “Roland wants you to stay on the stool all day long.

But we can switch it off and take you to lunch.”

The girls unplugged the chair and wheeled it down to the canteen. Michelle began to slowly notice her surroundings again as the effect of the vibrations and thrusting faded. However she was still stuffed so terribly full. She realised the position she was in: being wheeled through the office with her lap-strap still visibly in place. I was completely humiliating. The girls paraded her right round the canteen so that everyone got a good look, her micro-mini barely covering a thing.

They loaded up her tray for her and made sure she ate it all before wheeling her ceremoniously back upstairs to her office. She saw Roland ready to plug her back in…

“Please, no more, just let me sit on it! Please Sir, don’t plug it in, don’t switch it on! I can’t take anymore! Please!”

Roland knelt before her, gently stroking her flushed, tear-streaked face and speaking softly,

“Sorry, Miss Michelle, time to set some more records!”

“Nooo! Please Sir! Please! I’ll do anything! Just let me sit on it. I’m begging you…”

“OK then, I accept. You may sit as you are for the remainder of today. But tomorrow you can entertain us vice versa: the love-balls in your sweet little puss and the rod up your bottom! Should be fun!”

“Oh God! Noooo! Switch it on now! I don’t want it in my bottom!”

“Too late now! You’ve made your choice. Susanne dear, please send out an email detailing for everyone exactly how Michelle will be using her perch tomorrow. Like the one you sent yesterday with the picture of her new office chair. Let’s offer free pastries and coffee for the ‘installation of the slut’ ceremony at 9am. Let’s see if we can get an even bigger crowd than today’s one.”

The following morning saw virtually the entire company staff present and enjoying coffee and doughnuts while standing around the dildo chair in pride of place. A tearful Michelle, dressed in a wrap-round micro-mini and a bolero top that barely covered half her breasts, exited her boss’ office having completed her morning suck. She was obliged to bend forward at the waist, spread her legs, flip up her skirt and slowly pull the long flexible plug from her backside. While nearly as long as the dildo on her seat it was not nearly as thick and was flexible rather than hard.

“Please Sir, I’m begging you, not that! I can’t take it! Not in my bottom!”

“Take a seat my dear, unless you want Susanne to grease it with pepper oil instead of the Vaseline.”

“Noooo! Not that! I’ll do it, but let me do it slowly…”

“You have one minute, any part of it remaining outside your arse will be lubricated with the hot sauce. Starting now!”

“Oh God!” Michelle practically ran to the seat, or as close to running as she could get in her ridiculous footwear. She spread herself and felt the enormous head against her tiny, fear-tightened anus. Slowly she lowered her weight onto it, trying to relax her sphincter muscles so as to allow the monster entry. It was so big! Finally letting out a loud grunting groan she felt it enter her.

The stretching and discomfort were out of this world. It was gigantic! She paused, gasping and moaning…

“Fifteen seconds left…”

“Oh God, please…”

“Ten, nine, eight, seven…”

Frantically Michelle shoved herself down, violently bouncing herself in a desperate effort to cram it all in and so avoid the pepper oil. She no longer cared about the pain of her terrible stuffing.

“Three, two, one…. Well done, girl, I think you got it all in! Susanne the belt please. And now let’s switch it on!”

Michelle wailed as the vibrations began, followed shortly by the thrusting. The giant head pounding up and down in her rectum felt more like a fist despite the copious lubrication. But it made the steel balls in her vagina vibrate frantically. She knew that the stimulation would only take so long to overcome the pain, discomfort and utter humiliation…

Several times during the morning the girls came round and unplugged her chair before wheeling it around another part of the company to make sure everyone in the company got a good look. Michelle realised at some point someone had taken off her tiny skirt and bolero top. She was now quite naked apart from the too-short stockings and her boots. On one of her tours she was stopped at Susanne’s desk and saw her tormentor take some items out of her desk drawer. She gasped in horror as she felt the barbells removed from her hardened nipples and replaced with heavy golden bells on the end of rings. Everyone laughed as Susanne flicked the bells back and forth to make them tinkle. Then Michelle saw the cruel bitch take out the bottle of pepper oil…

“Please, Susanne, nooo! He said I didn’t have to if I sat down in one minute! I did it! Please no!”

“He was only talking about the dildo you silly bitch!”

Horrified, Michelle watched the other woman dip a cotton bud into the thick, dark red liquid before rubbing it onto her teats. The bells rang wildly as she helplessly twitched to the intense stinging and itching.

At lunch time the entire canteen seemed to gather round to watch the poor secretary eat her lunch. This time the chair was plugged in and Michelle had to try and eat her food while her crotch was thoroughly and relentlessly stimulated. Several times she uncontrollably dribbled food down herself as a particularly deep thrust made her grunt out loud. It was immensely amusing for the rest of the staff!

By the time the day was over and Michelle was allowed to lever herself up off the chair in front of her colleagues she was completely physically and mentally shattered. She didn’t even care as Susanne pushed her face down over her desk so that the whole crowd could admire the way her anal sphincter gaped wide open, making no attempt to close at all. Eight and a half hours of vigorous impalement can do that to a woman.

“Michelle, have fun on the weekend and we all look forward to seeing you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Monday!” Her boss was never tired of teasing her. “We’re having stirrups fitted to your desk so you can keep your feet up and wide apart. Should allow you to get an extra inch or so up your arse!”

Actually on Monday Michelle was surprised to discover that the terrible stool had been pushed to one side and that an ordinary office chair replaced it. She sat for her first day in a month without an orgasm. She even got proper secretarial work done. Yes, her clothes were still a travesty and her boss still had to be satisfied but that was routine. Then in the afternoon a couple of workmen arrived with Susanne. Michelle had to watch her direct them as they fitted a pair of stirrups onto either side of her desk. She was horrified by how far apart they were and by the straps on them clearly designed to hold her feet in place.

On Tuesday another set of men installed webcams on and under her desk. One was aimed at her crotch and the second at her face. Her sense of dread kept building

On Wednesday engineers arrived with a modified stool… It now had a second slightly smaller dildo in front of the original one, together with a much more complex motor mechanism. When they plugged it in and tested it Michelle gasped as she saw that the telescopic thrusting action had been switched to two flywheels which allowed the front and back rods to go through the stool in an up and down movement. The men tested it on various settings:

Alternating: As one dildo went up the other went down.

Synchronised: Both rods thrust up simultaneously and withdrew together too.

Random: Rods thrust up and down in an uncoordinated way, stopping, starting and reversing direction without any seeming plan.

Vibrating: The rods could be made to vibrate as they moved, ranging from a gentle throb to a furious demented movement that sounded like angry hornets.

An email from Susanne at the end of the day invited one and all to coffee, doughnuts and a raffle the next morning.

Poor Michelle had to stand holding up her tiny, pink tutu skirt (the thin, skin-tight outfit was a favourite of Roland) with one foot on her desk while one raffle winner tugged on the string that pulled two large gently vibrating eggs from her pussy while another winner had to tug remarkably hard to extract the big plug from her behind. The third scooped her breasts out of her top and swapped the bars in her nipples for the gold bells. As her colleagues guided her down onto the stool she actually whinnied as the tips of the greased objects began to slip inside her. As soon as the rod heads were inside she was wheeled forward and felt her feet in their little ballet pumps lifted and tied into the stirrups. Her legs were so far apart her tendons stood out on the inside of her thighs. With no support from her legs the weight of her body carried her swiftly down until her buttocks were squashed against the seat and her crotch was split by the seat’s raised central ridge. The heads were solidly seated in side her defenceless body.

“Off we go!” Michelle’s boss pushed a button on his handheld control panel. Immediately the vibrating began and a moment later both rods rose up together into her resisting body. She actually felt her body being lifted off the stool as the dildoes forced their way up and in.

“Naaah! Please…. Ungh!” Her cries were cut off as Susanne began to stuff a cinnamon doughnut into her open mouth, cramming more and more in until her mouth bulged open and would not shut. Michelle could not make more than grunting sounds till she had eaten her way through this impromptu gag. By then she was climaxing for the second time. Soon her orgasms were semi-continuous. On her monitor she could see the webcam shots. Below were the greased pricks thumping in and out of her crotch; being able to see them below the stool on the out-stroke only made the mechanical fucking more obscene. The other showed her bouncing belled breasts and her woebegone face.

The sight of Roland’s office fucktoy on the webcam, gagging on doughnut and cumming uncontrollably while being royally shafted made lots of her colleagues want to join the fun. For the rest of the morning Michelle was visited by little groups who stuffed her mouth with doughnut, sometimes dunking it in coffee first. For this she was grateful as it made it a little easier to digest. And the orgasms kept coming, though by now she was no longer being lifted of the ridge by the in-strokes, even when the machine was on ‘synchronised’; her crotch rested on the ridge which only made the stimulation of her clitoris more intense. She suffered continuously from one climax to the next.

As the fucktoy became gradually less responsive Susanne found a way of getting her attention. She fastened an elastic band around the ring through her clitoris. Those among the staff who were feeling cruel and Susanne in particular, could pull on the band. This would stretch the poor clit out painfully, a pain that became absolute agony as the band was released and snapped back against the poor delicate nub. Her howl the first time this happened was so loud that Roland insisted that it could not be done more than once every thirty minutes and that Michelle’s mouth be stuffed full of doughnut first.

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