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It would make sense to read the previous parts of this story to understand what is going on here. The story is about my wife, Paula Mann
Part 5
A new job
About six months after I started to visit Uncle Graham regularly I told Ben where I was going. “I am visiting the old minister Reverend More, do you remember him, Ben?”
“A little I guess, he left our church soon after I started to go there.” Ben was fixing a broken toy as we were chatting. Ben always had this idea that he was kept busy over the weekend fixing the toys that the children broke during the week. I just think he liked to be at his workbench at the weekend.
“Yes, well he was great friends with my Uncle George, you remember, they left me this house in their will. Anyway, the church has asked me to visit from time to time because he is getting on a bit and needs the company.”
“Okay darling. Do you want me to come?”
I was horrified. “No, it’s okay, you wouldn’t enjoy it.”
So my visits to the doctor became a humanitarian visit to an old minister. Somehow that made me feel better.
Now that I had more time on my hands with the children being at school all day I decided I needed a part-time job. I didn’t see myself going back full time to the sort of work I was doing for Oakland and Son, I still had the children to take care of. Ben was a generous provider, and I was able to save money which I put aside for that inevitable rainy day, but I wanted money of my own.
One Sunday after church I was walking around offering people cakes when I overheard a conversation about someone needing a person to put together training manuals for various companies. “How hard can that be,” I thought to myself so I gave the cakes to one of the other helpers and walked over to the group to introduce myself.
I held out my hand. “Hello I am Paula Anderson and I understand you need someone to compile training manuals.”
A rather large man about my age turned to face me and held my outstretched hand shaking it easily. “Hello Paula Anderson, I am Brian Christoff but most people call me Chris. Do you write training manuals?”
“No, but how hard can it be?” I have no idea why I was being so bold, I think it was something about being in the church hall which has become my second home for the last few years. Maybe it was because I had nothing to lose.
In any event, Chris took me to one side and said, “Let me tell you how hard it can be.” And we just seemed to click. We talked for an hour that Sunday, about training manuals and almost everything else. We would have carried on talking if Ben had not come along and dragged me away. Chris suggested we make contact and discuss the work during the week.
It didn’t take long to realize that we could work together. He was a one-man business who had been given the opportunity to compile training manuals for a multinational corporate company based in London. His brother was the training manager there and needed someone to do the work. Chris had some experience but he needed help. I had no experience but people tell me that I am clever so we decided to work together on them. I told him I wanted very flexible time and every Wednesday off.
I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that we instantly hit it off and had an affair. But it didn’t happen like that at all.
For the next four years, we worked together developing really good training manuals for his brother’s company and then many other businesses around the country. I had no idea there was so much demand. Chris was very good at the main structure of the manuals but had no eye for detail. I, on the other hand, was very good at the detail. It was a great team and we were making a good living. We set up a company and he had 75% of the shares and I had 25%. We paid each other the same hourly rate but Chris worked more hours than I did.
Lunch with the girls
Chris and his wife Diane often came to dinner with Ben and I and the four of us also hit it off. On one occasion when Diane and I were in the kitchen after putting the children to bed, she asked me if I would like to come to lunch next Wednesday with two of her friends. Apparently, they meet on the first Wednesday of each month and have a light lunch and play whist in the afternoon before they have to go and pick up the kids from school.
Wednesday was my day. I didn’t work on Wednesday or even do the housework. Once the children had been packed off to school I could do anything I wanted. I could even go out in the afternoon and evening if I wanted to because Ben would get off work early on a Wednesday and collect the children from school. I suggested this and Ben agreed. We reasoned that I would be a responsible parent for six days of the week but not Wednesday. “Even God had a day off.” Ben had said.
I got into the habit of visiting Uncle Graham once a month on a Wednesday, so having lunch and a game of cards with Diane and her friends once a month on a different Wednesday seemed like a good idea. halkalı escort
Each month we took it in turns to be hostess, next Wednesday was Diane’s turn.
I had been to her home many times for dinner so I arrived early and offered to help. Diane and Chris lived in a small two-bedroom flat on the fourth floor of a block. It was quite a nice flat in a good area but it wasn’t big enough to have an office for Chris so he rented space in town and worked normal office hours. Chris ran several other small businesses and never seemed to be short of money.
The others also arrived early and I was delighted to see that I knew them all from church. I guess I should tell you who they were
Diane, you know. Married to Chris, my business partner, and age 33. She is just 5 feet tall and has a very petite body. They don’t have children so she has kept her figure the same since she left school she tells me. She must be proud of being small because she always wears flat shoes, thin cotton tops, and cotton pants. She doesn’t like jeans, she tells me.
Fatima’s parents came here from Pakistan forty years ago and are Muslim, but Fatima converted to Christianity at school, and she loved the church. She is always in jeans and a t-shirt just like me but she says she has a sari at home to keep her parents happy. She was brought up in Manchester so we have a lot in common. At 37 she is the oldest in the group and married with three teenage children. Her clothes are unflattering so it is hard to judge her statistics, but I would guess she is a little heavier than she would like to be and about my height.
Gwendoline is quite curvey and 28 years old. The name her parents gave her is Gwen actually but it doesn’t sound esoteric enough for her. She has wide hips, childbearing my mum would have called them, a slim waist and 38 D breasts she would announce to anybody who asked. She often wore tight knitted tops and jeans that seemed to move independently when she walked.
And then of course me. If you missed the first book in this series you should not know that I am 5ft 5ins in my stocking feet, weigh just a little too much, and have small breasts but a delightfully spankable bottom. I was 31 when the girls first started their monthly meetings
So there we are, Diane, Fatima, Gwendolin, and me getting to know each other over a light snacky meal of dips and crispbread, tiny tomatoes and diced cucumber, and a few bottles of nice wine.
Lunch was always followed by a never-ending game of whist and conversation about the things that most bothered us at the time.
I had never played whist so I had to be taught the rules but it is not complicated and I soon picked it up. The interesting thing about Diane was she was very competitive. The rest of us didn’t mind very much who was winning and who was losing. The point of the game was to have something to do while we were chatting about important stuff like children, husbands, shopping, and sex. At the end of each game, she would announce who was winning and who was losing. The final score was announced before we went home and Diane had even bought a floating trophy that the winner could take home and keep for a month to be returned for the next time we got together. Diane usually won the trophy so it stayed on her mantlepiece, and even if one of us won, nobody else wanted to take it home.
After about a year of regularly getting together, The conversations started to have a subtle change in direction. One could say that we were now talking about husbands and sex, boyfriends and sex, shopping and sex, and even children who got in the way of having sex. That is not to say the conversation was single-tracked, rather we would talk about loads of things but we kept coming back to sex. Or rather the lack of it.
Despite Gwendoline’s rather sexy body, she had a problem finding a boyfriend who would stay around for longer than a few dates. When we were discussing if any of us had had sex on the first date with a boy, she pipped up that she would be happy with sex before the first date.
We were all having such fun at our monthly ‘lunch with the girls’ as Diane called it, we decided to increase it to twice a month. I think the others may have wanted to have it weekly but I loved my Wednesdays especially because I could still see Uncle Graham on a Wednesday.
On one occasion Gwendoline was twenty minutes late but when she arrived she announced at the top of her voice “I had sex at the weekend.” Everybody laughed and I found out later that each of us felt a little bit sad that we hadn’t had sex at the weekend. My boring sex life in the missionary position had deteriorated to a monthly chore, Fatima admitted that her husband is ten years older than her and has lost the urge. Even Diane admitted that she thought Chris was probably having his quota elsewhere.
Gwendoline continued. “The only problem was that he wanted to spank me on the second date before we went out. ‘SPANK şirinevler escort ME’ The nerve of the man. Did he think I was a naughty schoolgirl? I expect he is now chasing after underage prostitutes.”
There was silence for a while and then Fatima joined in the conversation. “Has anybody else let a boyfriend spank them?”
There was silence as everybody else shook their heads. We don’t have any rules in the group but one thing we all agreed upon was that we must be honest with each other. The question Fatima asked was about letting a boyfriend spank you and I have never had that. Oh, sure there have been two Uncles, one Auntie, Patricia, Mr. Oakland, and even my Mum but no boyfriends.
Fatima continued the same train of thought when she admitted, “My husband used to spank me often when we were younger. Being born and brought up in Pakistan before he emigrated here, he is much more traditional than I am and thought it was his duty to chastise his wife. I soon dispelled him of that idea but interestingly I really enjoyed a light spanking from time to time as foreplay, and sometimes not so light.
The rest of us looked at her, but each had a different thought. I understood entirely, and while I would never allow my husband to spank me (or so I thought at the time) I loved to be spanked.
Diane said she was horrified, but her face told a different story.
Gwendoline said, “So you think I should let him spank me then?”
Fatima and I said in unison, “Yes.” and then laughed.
I was feeling guilty so I thought I should come clean, well not totally clean but a little cleaner.
“I had an Uncle and Auntie who spanked me once.”
Fatima said, “Oh that would have been when you were a child that is different, I am talking about spanking as an adult.” as if she had exclusively on adult spanking.
“Well no actually,” I said. “Between the ages of 18 and twenty-one. It was a very erotic experience and I would love to have that experience again.”
“Paula!” Diane was a bit of a prude when it came to all things sexual.
“Don’t you dare mention this to Ben, Diane, I will never hear the last of it. This has to remain a secret between us four. Okay?” We all agreed that this conversation goes no further.
Fatima seemed to want the conversation to go further, “So come on Diane. Don’t tell me you have never been spanked?”
Diane was hesitant. “I was when I was a child. Dad spanked me when I was naughty which seemed to be at least once a month. Mum slapped my legs sometimes.”
“Oh My Mum did that,” I said, “Right up until I was 16.”
Fatima was talking again, “That’s quite old for a leg slapping, and then two years later your Aunt and Uncle took over, how did that happen?”
So I told them the whole story about moving in with My Uncle George and Auntie Mae when I was in university in Newcastle and discovering they were into erotic punishment spanking and how they invited me to join and how it changed my life.
I was watching Diane as I was talking and she was getting more and more excited. Leaning forward, clamping her legs together and wriggling on her chair.
Fatima wouldn’t let it go. “You said that it changed your life but that was 12 years ago. How did it change your life?”
“Honestly.” I took a deep breath. “I can only achieve the best orgasms when I think about those spankings.”
Gwendoline had been quiet for a while and then she asked. “But how do I know if I will enjoy it?”
“Well that is easy to fix, I will spank you and you can see.” Fatima was keen.
“I don’t think so,” Gwendoline was convinced. “Why should I be spanked? I have not been naughty.”
“Oh I think you have young lady,” Suddenly Fatima sounded like a schoolmistress. “You were late today, and that deserves a spanking I am sure. What do you think girls?”
We all said, “Yes”
“Oh good lord!” Gwendoline was nervous, but then she stood up, turned her back to us, and bent down. “Do your worst then, but not too hard.”
Fatima continued with that voice of authority. “I will decide how hard it should be, keeping us waiting for twenty minutes, and I will certainly not be spanking you through those thick jeans. I think we shall have those jeans off first, don’t you girls?”
Diane and I were stunned at the change in Fatima. She was certainly in charge now and I was almost wishing it was me being told to prepare myself to have my bottom spanked.
“Come on Gwendoline, I am sure you don’t want me to ask the other girls to bare your bottom for you.”
“Bare?” Gwendoline exclaimed. “Who said anything about bare?”
“Your Choice Gwendoline. Get those jeans down and you can keep your knickers, or I will get the girls to help me.”
Gwendoline lifted her knitted jumper and started to undo the button on her jeans. As she slid them down to her knees we were all surprised to see her wearing plain white cotton knickers. I guess we expected avcılar escort to see something sexier.
Then Fatima said, “Right off please.”
Gwendoline had to sit down to take off her jeans. It is strange how your opinion of someone changes when you see them in a knitted jumper and ordinary white knickers. Gwendoline seemed quite small now.
Fatima pulled one of the armless chairs we had been sitting on to play cards into the center of the room and she sat down. The stage was set. “Come here Gwen and bend over my knee.” The change of name wasn’t lost on any of us. Gwendoline’s parents had called her Gwen and, for now, Fatima was loco parentis.
I have no idea what Gwendoline was thinking right now but I know how I would feel. Excited, nervous, and horny.
Gwen went to Fatima with no more arguments and bent over her knee. She was positioned with her hands and feet on the floor and her bottom in the air. Fatima started spanking and talking at the same time. “You will receive 20 spanks as you were 20 minutes late. Then you will stand in the corner while I deal with the other two.”
“What?” Diane was horrified, but I was somewhat relieved that I would also experience a spanking from Fatima.
The spanking finished quite quickly and without any more problems. Gwen was not crying really, but she was not at all happy as she got off Fatima’s lap and was instructed to stand facing the wall in the corner. “And no rubbing.” Fatima called after her.”Who’s next?”
“You are not going to spank Paula and I,” Diane stated. “We weren’t late.” Unfortunately, as she was saying this I was standing and undoing my jeans. Diane stood and grabbed my arm. “Paula, what are you doing?”
“I am getting ready for a spanking,” I told Diane. “I have missed this.” Diane slumped back into the chair.
I had my lace knickers on, the ones I often wear on a Wednesday, but not usually for lunch with the girls. They are nearly transparent, and I knew, when I walked to Fatima to take my position, she could see that I was completely shaved.
“Oh, lovely knickers Paula.” Fatima complimented me but I knew she was not looking at the knickers but through them.
As I came close I whispered, “Please spank me hard Fatima.” I rested over her lap easily and waited as Fatima rested her hand on my bottom.
“Twenty spanks I think Paula,” with that she started. The first smack startled me, it always does if the spanking is done properly and I would guess Fatima has had plenty of practice. I was crying when she had finished and she allowed me to stay in position as she stroked my damaged cheeks.
“Up you get now Paula. I still have one more bottom to spank.”
“No Please.” Diane had lost her role as leader of this group and she knew it. Fatima was in charge now and Diane seemed to be wavering in her determination. She had seen Gwendoline and I spanked and I got the impression she had enjoyed the show. “Please,” she said again but this time she was standing up and fiddling with the clip at the side of her pants. “Please, not too hard.”
Fatima seemed to relent just a little. “Don’t worry Diane, it won’t be hard and you will enjoy it, I promise.”
Gwendoline and I were meant to be facing the wall but we both turned to watch Diane drop her pants and we all gasped when her knickers came into view. Diane was wearing the tiniest thong knickers I have ever seen. Just a string hidden between her cheeks and a postage stamp of material covering her shaved pussy.
“Please girls,” Diane said, “I am embarrassed enough as it is.”
Fatima was the first to talk in her schoolmistress’s voice. “What do you think you are wearing my girl?”
Diane just stood there. “I know.” she started. “I began to wear thongs a couple of years ago to see if I could excite Chris. I shaved at the same time but he didn’t comment. I don’t even know if he noticed. After that disappointment, I realized I liked it. And the thong doesn’t show any lines at the back too.
Fatima realized she may lose control here so she told Diane to assume the position. Gwendoline and I were still watching as tiny Diane rested her body over Fatima’s broad lap.
Fatima rested her hand on Dian’s small bottom. “I think I am going to enjoy this Diane, your bottom is so small I can spank both cheeks at once.”
Diane groaned as the spanking started. Twenty light spanks landed on Diane’s bottom and she hardly squeaked until the last one, which seemed to be much harder. “Up you get now Diane and stand next to the others. Face the wall all of you.”
We stood facing the wall for a couple of minutes when Fatima said. “It seems very unfair that Diane is showing her bottom and you two still have your knickers on. Just lower them to your knees please so I can compare.”
I don’t know why but we didn’t complain, we just did as we were told. I was first to lower my knickers to display my bare bottom. Gwendoline followed, but surprisingly Diane also lowered her thong which seemed to be a waste of time if the process of showing our bottoms was all Fatima had in mind. I realized later, that it was the embarrassment and perhaps even humiliation of lowering our knickers, that added to the moment.
Fatima stood up and walked towards us. “Just bend forward and put your hands on your knees so I can compare.” We did as we were told.
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