1 comments/ 34758 views/ 1 favorites The Tally By: bradley_stoke Amy loved her job, but she had no illusions about what her job really was. After all, you couldn’t expect success if you pretended it was anything else. She was a sex performer, and she was paid to have sex on stage several times a night whenever it was her shift. And sex, whether on stage, for film or in private, was still sex. It meant disrobing, it meant groping and above all it meant penetration. That was what the punters expected and what they were paying for. The art of it was in making the sex as watchable as possible. And this meant that it had to be entertaining, fully visible and as shocking as possible. There was no sexual act she could think of that she wouldn’t do, as long as it left no marks which might appear in later performances in her shift. She would have sex with one man, two men, several men. Equally as much, she would have sex with an equal number of women. Her arse and cunt would take any object that would fit: animate or inanimate, fist, prick or tongue. Only the laws of the land prevented her from extending her range to include animals or children. The stage was her bed and her boudoir, and she would take on all comers, both from the paying audience and from her cast of co-stars. She would stretch herself out naked on the stage, or dressed in latex or leather, her long golden brown hair flopping onto the stage, her freckled face and shoulders lashed with semen, while behind her a cock pounded into her arse and underneath the strapped-on dildo attached to one of her female colleagues pushed more awkwardly into her cunt. Her smiling, grimacing face, crumpled in ecstasy and excitement faced the audience, a face whose oriental eyes and features inherited from her Chinese mother belied the Celtic freckles and fair hair inherited from her Scottish father. Her body was all her own, spared the need for surgical enhancement by the full round apple contours of her breasts and the slim frame kept trim and taut in the gym. And her enthusiasm and ecstasy was all her own as well. The very thought of what she was doing, in front of so many panting, gasping punters, gave that extra erotic impetus which made her sexual acts the most popular and eagerly awaited in the club. And her sex life was as integral to her character as her sparkling blue-grey eyes, and her small nose. She was surely obsessed. Every day she would have sex with one, two or more people, and she didn’t really count those on stage. That, after all, was her job. It was not necessarily at a time of her choosing and not necessarily with anyone of her choosing. Not that she was that choosy. Well, she might be insofar as any second or third time might be, but for first-time fucks, it was anyone and everyone. And she kept a diary, which she’d started from when she was oh! so young. And in this diary, she recorded every fuck, every sexual act, but not those on stage, and awarded each one a coded description and a mark out of ten. She’d always done this. Some people’s diaries are a record of their innermost thoughts. An account of their feelings, their ambitions, their worries and their happiness. Others are a more objective account of events, perhaps noting people and places. Amy didn’t even bother with names. Even initials were suspect. After all, she couldn’t expect to know the name of everyone she’d had sex with. Her diary entries were brief and to the point. She would mention gender, number and any especially pertinent feature of the occasion. And then a mark out of ten. Occasionally, she might add a comment, like ‘Took too long’, ‘Tiny prick’ or ‘Smelly’. And that was it. To anyone reading her diary, it might as well be a shopping list. She had her diary in front of her, cross-legged on her futon, while a naked woman lay on her front beside her. Amy was smoking a cigarette, while her fibre-tip pen hovered over the blank paper. It was a fresh page, and she always kept a diary on unlined, unheaded pages, so she could get several days’ entries on one page. In the bathroom, she could see a hairy, bare arse where a man was washing semen off his groin. She smiled, and entered the date in numbers, with a vertical slash between the day, month and year columns. And then in her neat, tiny handwriting: “1M 1F 4/10”. Then she paused for thought before adding “Sloppy”. She turned back to the previous page which was dense with similar entries, and took a note of the numbers at the side, which showed her totals. It was proudly in four digits now. And she was even prouder of the fact that the total for ‘F’ was fast approaching that for ‘M’. So proud that she mouthed it to herself: “One Thousand Seven Hundred and Forty Three.” At this rate, the ‘F’s would overtake the ‘M’s. And before she’d reached the two thousand. And adding the ‘F’s to the ‘M’s. Why! That was already over three thousand. That meant that for the ten years she’d been sexually active, that had been on average, just under one a day. Of course, she was making up for it now. One a day! God! That would be a piss poor day. Normally she’d have three or four times that number. She grinned to herself. She loved statistics. She didn’t know why she did, but somehow all these numbers added meaning and shape to her life. Often when she was alone, she’d take out her diary and pore over the days, looking at the progression on the total, smile at those days which had been particularly eventful where her tally had increased by the most, and perhaps frown at the relatively low scores that might be associated with it. She had very high standards. A seven was pretty good. And not given lightly. An eight was rare. A nine rarer still. And a ten. Well! Could that even exist? Often she wondered about what would have happened if she’d included her on-stage sex in her total. What would that have done? And would that be cheating? Would that make her an entry into the Guinness Book of Records? But they didn’t really have that kind of thing in there. Or did they? She wasn’t sure. But she wasn’t sure she’d want her photograph or name in something like that. It was bad enough pretending to her Mum that all the money she was earning and the lovely down-town flat she’d bought cash down had somehow come as a result of exercising the skills she’d gained at secretarial college. And her divorced father. It was bad enough that he knew where she lived and still sent her cards at Christmas and on her Birthday. What would happen if he knew more about what his darling daughter did for a living, for whom he’d paid her mother an allowance for so many years? Getting fresh sexual partners wasn’t as easy as all that. After all, Amy had soon exhausted all those at the night club. And not just the other performers, whether male or female. There was the janitor, the ticket clerks, the manager and that woman who did the fancy backdrops. There were the people in the audience for sure, but the management weren’t too keen on their paying customers getting too familiar with the goods. They might not want to continue paying for the pleasure of just seeing them. Amy was a regular visitor at a number of cafés, bars and clubs where she could be sure of finding someone, male or female, or both, just the one, or several at the same time, with whom she could increment her tally of fresh conquests, whether at their place (preferred) or at hers (if necessary) or perhaps some other place (as long as she didn’t have to pay for it!). Of course she had to be careful. Especially with the men. You heard such stories! She kept a handbag full of condoms. All different shapes and sizes and flavours. Ribbed and nobbled and smooth. And sometimes, especially when there were three or more men, you just couldn’t risk taking them back or letting them take you back. Then the back of the car, or a dark alley-way, or whatever. It just had to do. Not so good for the actual sex, but more than compensated by the extra notches it scored. Couples were fine. Two couples a little more risky, but not by too much. But women. No problem at all! If only more of them were willing! Naturally, the more indiscriminate you were then the worse the sex. The number of ones and twos she’d had to award. And the zeros! When it was sex in only the most technical sense. But it still counted. That was the main thing. It might be crap, but it was clothes off, genitals in place, and a bit of sweat. But it counted. Inevitably, the best sex came from her colleagues. They were after all professionals. They knew what to do and they knew how to give pleasure. And they were the lucky ones who got the chance to do it again, even though it didn’t count against the total. But then you had to have some pleasure in your life. And she recorded them, and awarded them the sevens or even eights that made it all worth while. So whenever a new girl or a new man started working at the club, Amy took especial interest in them, even though she’d invariably had sex with them on stage before they were able to get entered properly as a proper fuck back her own flat or even at theirs. Those were the good ones. That’s when she was able to truly enjoy herself, the sweat streaming down the hard, muscular contours of her limbs, her mouth musky and sour from the taste of sexual fluids, her cunt stretched and sore from their thrusting, groping and stroking. And so it was that Amy was particularly looking forward to a night of real passion when Lucinda started working at the club. And Lucinda was her real name as well. Not one of those made-up names like some of the girls adopted. And even some of the men,. Not Savannah, Asia, Chesty or Satin. And such a pretty girl as well. She salivated at just the thought of her, as Lucinda nervously entered the changing room in her unusually drab clothes. A blouse, a skirt and woollen tights. Her shoes were flat and dull, and her dark brown shoulder-length hair was actually tied back with a dull green hair band. Fuck! Do people really dress like that. Amy usually wore clothes only just on the right side of decency, made from latex or satin or silk, to encourage lustful thoughts and proclaim her intentions. Amy couldn’t wait until this girl could strip off to be sure that her body matched the beauty of her well-scrubbed face, free of mascara, eye-liner or lipstick. You wouldn’t have imagined her as a sex performer. However, Bob, the stage manager, assured the girls that this indeed was what Lucinda was. She’d previously been working as the Garotta A-Go-Go on the east side of town, but she’d fallen out with the management who kept on wanting her to do things she hadn’t wanted to do. But, as he reminded them, their loss was a gain for the Hardcore Heaven. “And what won’t she do?” wondered Dirk Dongle, whose prick had a special place in Amy’s arse, as he never tired of reminding her. “Well, men, basically,” Bob told them. “She won’t do men at all. So, that’s you out, Dirk. Otherwise, she’ll do everything. And I know. I’ve seen her. She’s fucking good. She’ll do anal and double penetration and fisting and even pissing. I’ve heard she’d even done on-stage shitting, but as you know we don’t do that until it’s really late. And she gets the crowd going. She’s a fucking draw. We expect to get a lot of the Garotta’s crowd down here. And that can’t be bad!” “She don’t look much,” sniffed Mandy, a tall India girl with a weird tattoo on her arse. “She wears proper gear on stage,” Bob assured them. “She’s not like that naturist who wouldn’t even wear heels on stage.” Amy liked the sound of this girl. And as top-ranking girl she knew that she’d be the one to get first taste of her. And then back to her place afterwards, she reckoned, maybe just the two of them, without inviting back one of the other girls, even Ebony, the Jamaican girl who she normally always had time for, even if extra sex with her didn’t officially count. And if she was that good, well, maybe she’d be an eight. Or even a nine! But that would be too much of a good thing. And so it was to be. But not before Amy’s appetite had been whetted with a bit of double penetration from Dirk and Handy Andy, underneath the strobes, in front of the early evening audience. Amy blew kisses at some of the regulars and some new ones she’d never seen before, while Dirk’s prick thrust in and out of her arse, and she lowered and raised her crotch on Andy’s ever-reliable ten-inch prick. It was a good night. There was a good atmosphere. She grinned avariciously at the pile of notes that were scattered on the stage and were being added to as the punters tossed more towards her. She’d get her normal 50%, while the two men would have to split the other half between them. A good night’s haul, and the night was still oh! so very young. Back in the dressing room, she watched as Lucinda exchanged her drab clothes for stocking, heels and a tight latex skirt which just about hid the splendid melons of her breast and obscured only the tiniest of thongs. She stood behind Lucinda, and placed her hands on the girl’s bare shoulders, and smiled at her reflection in the mirror with its newly applied bright red lipstick. “It’s going to be so good, isn’t it?” she gushed enthusiastically. Without comment, Lucinda raised her hands to her shoulders and firmly removed Amy’s hands, which rather startled her. She smiled sadly. “I’m sure it will be.” Then she turned her head round and looked into Amy’s face. “You will be gentle with me, won’t you? At least at first.” Amy was too put back by Lucinda’s rejection of her very innocent advances to do anything but nod. “Yes, of course,” she replied, as an uncharacteristic warmth spread over her cheeks. How dare Lucinda! Was she going to be as much a cold fish on stage? However, such fears were misplaced, when the lights went up on the two girls as they came on stage to the excited whoops of the audience. As soon as they were in action, Lucinda was as warm and intimate as a girl could be. An expert improviser, sensing Amy’s most sensual spots, and neither hurried nor too slow. Just right, in fact. The two stripped each other on stage. The stockings were pulled down, the dress was hauled up, hands groped over breast, back and even the precious shoulders. Their tongues waggled at a distance, and then with warmth and passion, their mouths interlocked while their hands felt around each other’s spine and bottom. And soon the fingers, tongues and teeth were on each other’s vagina and anus. Amy was suitably impressed. Although, unlike her, Lucinda clearly never shaved her pubic hairs or even trimmed them, they were perfectly shaped and not too long. And in amongst the hairs were the beautiful folds of a perfect vagina, which kept its glory inside rather than dropping it out like so many of the other girls. Especially Corrie’s. That girl couldn’t hold anything in, let alone her cunt. And that lovely puckered anus. And the flavour of it. Bittersweet to the taste and rich in odour. Just as she preferred. But true to her word, Amy probed only with her fingers, and left it up to Lucinda to do the penetration, which she did efficiently and expertly with the clear purple dildo that was provided for the job. And Amy didn’t know where it came from, but even with the audience whooping at her, all she was really conscious of was Lucinda and her fingers and the way it made her vagina ache from pleasure. More so than Handy Andy or even Georgy Porgy had ever been able to do with the real thing. As they left, the stage, Amy quickly kissed Lucinda full on the lips. “That was fucking great!” She said. “You’re a real fucking professional.” Lucinda carefully wiped her lips with the back of her hand and made no comment. Amy wasn’t that easily put off. “So, after we’ve finished, are you coming back with me? To my place. I’ve got a great flat, you know. And a really big comfortable bed. And then we can carry on where we’ve just left off.” Lucinda frowned. “Are you asking me back to your flat to have sex with you?” she asked flatly. Amy smiled broadly. “Of course. It’d be such good fun!” Lucinda carefully sat down on her chair by the mirror, still with a frown on her face. She looked up at Amy. “I’m very flattered, er, Amy,” she said politely. “And, no offence. You are a very attractive girl. And I’m sure your feelings are genuine. But, er, Amy. I’m afraid, it’s out of the question.” And then Lucinda turned her head to face her reflection, ignoring Amy while she tidied up the lipstick on her mouth. Amy wasn’t that easily put off. “You can’t be meaning that! I mean, you were pretty much game on the stage. Why can’t we do the same thing more intimately and more privately? I know you’d enjoy it.” “Amy.” Said Lucinda firmly and not facing Amy at all. “What I do on stage and do for a living is one thing. And what I do when I’m not on stage and not doing it for a living is another. Please accept that, and I’m sure we’ll get on fine.” For the second time that evening, and for only the second time she could ever recall in her entire memory, Amy reddened from the humiliation of rejection. She attempted to say something, but her tongue, despite still tasting of Lucinda’s vulva, was somehow tied and she lost all ability for coherent response. Without a word, she wandered off to her own chair by the mirror and studied her own freckled face, damp strands of hair plastered to the forehead, with its oriental eyes and full red lips, and tried to reassure herself that in some way that she’d never before suspected she was not after all unattractive. How could it be that anyone, male or female, would not succumb to her beauty? Especially a woman who only moments ago was clearly enjoying her body, and whose stated preference was indeed for women and not for men at all. What strange thing was this? And had she done anything to deserve this rebuff? Amy wasn’t a girl who gave up easily, and she still had two more appearances with Lucinda that evening to look forward to; but in both cases, it was the same. On stage, Lucinda was passionate, sensual and sexy. In no way did she seem abashed or reluctant, expressing her joy unambiguously as Amy penetrated her with a dildo or licked her clitoris. Her passion didn’t seem to be at all feigned, and she still managed to synchronise her sexual activity to the slow, loud beating of the music in the night club, somehow unfazed by the pressure of all the male eyes on her. And then, off stage, she showed no interest in Amy at all, who endeavoured to repeat her entreaties that Lucinda should come back with her, but meeting only with a polite refusal. Amy was disappointed. She’d been so looking forward to her new conquest, and it just wasn’t to be. And so, despite the lateness of the hour, when she finished work for the evening, she headed off to a night club she knew to pick someone up, anyone, it didn’t matter. The two young and skinny girls she picked up weren’t that bad. In fact, she’d awarded them a six, despite the fact that there were so off their faces that they really made no objection to the indignities she put them through. Amy wasn’t even sure the girls had ever had sex with each other before, let alone any other woman. But they gamely took dildos into their cunts and arses, and showed a fair bit of enthusiasm, even though they did fall asleep rather too promptly after they had climaxed. As Amy noted ‘2F’ in her diary, and incremented her total of women conquests accordingly, she still felt empty and unsatisfied. Neither of them were as good or as beautiful or as passionate as Lucinda, who she remembered so fondly. Neither of them could be rated as the nine that Amy was convinced that sex with Lucinda would have scored. But she set aside her diary, locked it in a drawer with a little key, and nestled on her bed between the two girls, and sighed. Tomorrow was another day, and Amy was used to getting her way. The Tally Pt. 01 We look forward to meeting with you to finalize our plans. Sincerely, Jason Walkraft There it was done, last letter finished and soon she could head home. She only had one item left to deal with and for that it would be best if she had no company. After placing the correspondence in mail bin she quietly walked through the deserted offices. Sure enough every office was dark and there were no other sounds other than the low rustle of the A/C cooling the building. As she returned to her desk she took the notepad that she had been keeping her tally of typos on and looked it over. Only five today, not too bad but... She hesitantly open her lower drawer and removed the small journal from the behind the folders. She opened it to the marker and set it on her desk. Five typos on official documents 5, she thought back over the day and added, Treated Linda from Marketing in a rude manner without cause 5, Did not have Jason's coffee ready when he arrived. She looked at the last and placed a 3 next to it after a moment's consideration. She then began adding up the numbers and gave a sob as she saw the final tally, 64. With trembling hands she placed the journal in the middle of her desk and took out the MP3 player and her ear buds and placed it on top of the book as she tidied her desk. Taking the player and the book she turned out her light and headed down the hall towards the elevator. Tonight she did not press the button to take her to the ground floor but instead she carefully pressed the button marked B2. As the elevator descended she went over in her mind the events that had brought her to this point. She had always been a good student through school but that was more due to her father keeping her focused on her studies. Her teachers referred to her as bright but easily distracted and her father had told her he was not going to allow her to fail. His loving but stern guidance had seen her through high school. Fate had smiled on her at the business school There she had roomed with Lysell who understood what she needed and applied it with a firm merciless hand. After all that she had graduated with top honors and in short order had landed her dream job, Executive Assistant to Jason Walkraft, the founder and CEO of Walkraft Automation. She had started well enough but before long she found herself making mistakes that would have embarrassed her instructors and only long hours of proofreading had prevented her sloppy work from coming to the attention of Mr. Walkraft. She decided that only the tried and true methods of discipline would keep her on track but she had yet to meet anyone who she trusted enough or who cared enough for her to do the job for her. She knew from trial and a lot of errors that she did not have the ability to strike herself with the necessary force to achieve the proper effect. She had feared she would eventually fail but a chance discovery while touring the plant with Jason had provided her with a solution. With a ding the doors of the elevator slide open and she found herself peering into the dark hall of the sub-basement. With effort she forced herself to step out of the car and waited while the doors slide shut behind her. As usual the basement was deserted at this time of the day, the maintenance staff having long since headed home to enjoy the weekend. With a slow stride she walked to the end of the hall and stopped at a door that said simply STORAGE. She stood and gazed at the sign for a moment then with slow deliberation she removed the key she had made and unlocked the door. On the far side of the space was a small room that had once been used as an office when this space had been used for something else long ago. As she approached it she could see the old oak desk and the equipment she had moved next to it several months ago, for all the world looking like its placement had simply been a matter of convenience rather than careful deliberation. The paperwork she had found on the machine had identified it as part of a conveyor system that had been designed to move parts a precise increment along an assembly line. It had been returned to the plant for warranty repairs but had been mothballed when it was decided that a less expensive model would be used to replace it rather than fix it. From the work request the only problem with it was the fact it would no longer accept signals from the controller unit even though it could still be cycled manually. With a little work she had rigged an activator switch that she could place it on the desk and a carefully worded request to one of the engineers produced the final piece she needed for her solution. Placing her book and player on the desk she opened the bottom drawer of the desk and took out a 2' long web strap with a metal fitting on the end. She carefully placed the fitting over the shaft of the unit and then plugged the unit into a nearby socket. Standing out of the way she pressed the heavy button on the desk and with a loud swish the strap was sent quickly through a full rotation. Her hands trembled with the thought of what came next. Removing her jacket and hanging it carefully on a hook by the door she emptied her pockets and picking up the player she clipped it to the collar of her blouse and placed the earbud into her ears. With tears in her eyes she pressed the play button. "Sarah, you know why you are here. Once again it is time to assess your performance for the week and apply the motivation you know you need to keep your performance at a level that will allow you to continue to succeed and live to your full potential. This should not be necessary but your stubborn lazy attitude makes this inevitable." Sarah heard her own voice lecturing her just as her father and Lysell had done so many times. She needed the ritual of this as much as the actual discipline itself. She feared this but she knew that on the other end she would feel the rightness and reassurance that she was safe from her own failings. The only thing she missed with a deep ache was someone to hold her afterwards to bring her back and let her know she was loved and cared for. "Assume your position Sarah," With a sigh she positioned herself at the edge of the desk in the center of the flight path of the strap. "We will begin with twenty strokes over your skirt, as always you will count them out loud. Begin!" With a sob she reached forward a depressed the large button. Whish, Crack! Ahhh, One I am sorry! Push Crack! Two, I am sorry!! Each time she pushed the button the machine cycled bringing the strap around with a vicious stroke that made her gasp and jump despite her knowledge of its coming. By the fifth stroke she was sobbing and tears were pouring down her face. By ten her ass was so on fire that the strokes made her scream and it took her a moment to reset herself for the next stroke. Push Crack!! "Twenty, I am so very, very, sorry. I am a very bad girl and deserve this punishment. After she caught her breath she pressed the button on her player beginning the next track. Even though she knew the words by heart she sobbed as she heard," It is time to address your individual failings this week. These next strokes are to be applied to your pantied bottom so you will now remove your skirt and fold it neatly on the end of the desk and resume your position." As directed she stood and slowly removed her skirt revealing a pair of black panties framed by her garter belt and stockings. As she set it aside she heard her voice commanding her to lay the journal out on the desk in front of her and to open it to the week's entries. "Read the first entry and the required strokes" "Monday, 3 typos on official reports, caught and corrected before submission. 3 strokes assessed" she read in a trembling voice. "Apply indicated strokes acknowledging aloud your error. Un-pause this track when you are finished." With trembling hands she pressed the button again. Crack! One, I will be more attentive in my transcriptions. *Sob* Crack! Two, I will be more careful in my typing. *whimper* Crack! *scream* Three, I will pay attention to my work!! As she was catching her breath she pushed the button to continue the track. "Cross out that offence and proceed to the next item." With relief she crossed out the entry placing it in the past atoned for and forgotten. It had been a good week to start and as such her next item was dated Tuesday. In keeping with her ritual each new day required adding a riser to raise her and her ass higher for the strap. She then looked down to the journal and read, "Misplaced minutes of last board meeting delaying the meeting 5 minutes." She gulped, "fifteen strokes." By the time she finished out Thursday she reached the point in the track she dreaded. "You have performed poorly by any standard and have proved an embarrassment to both your father's efforts and those of Lycell. As a mark of your shame you shall be punished like a little girl, remove your panties and take the rest of your punishment on your bare ass. Do it quickly or you will receive additional punishment on top of those stokes you have already earned." With a quick motion she stripped down her panties and returned to her position before the voice told her that time was up. As she leaned forward the bare flesh of her shaved pussy pressed against the cold smooth surface of the metal desk reinforcing her awareness ofher nakedness. She reached forward to continue. Push CRACK! "One, I will keep proper and neat records so that they will be ready at all times." Her legs thrashed and it took a few moments to get back into position and continue. Push It took her almost twenty minutes to apply the final 13 strokes she had earned that day and all the time she screamed out her repentance for her bad performance and behavior. After the last stroke she lay panting and sobbing uncontrollably for close to 5 minutes. Then she advanced the track and took her place in the corner to listen to her lecture of shame and disappointment as she stood on display for anyone to see, not that anyone was still in the building at this hour. She stood her hands behind her head, bare from the waist down aside from her garter and hose. Her ass throbbed and she knew she would still be able to feel this on Monday let alone this weekend. As she stood there the fire in her ass began to creep forward and she began to become aware that she had become very wet. She hung her head in shame that her lust should intrude on this time of penance. Granted she always found great pleasure in her body after a punishment was done and over but she was not supposed to come to that point until after the ritual was over. What a slut she was she thought, little more than a bitch in heat with no sense of timing or decorum. The thought made her angry and ashamed. She strode back over to the desk and draping herself over the edge yelled, "Acting like a slut while being disciplined!! Five Strokes!!" She slammed her hand down on the button and the strike against her ravaged flesh caused her to lose her balance and fall landing on the button. The unthinkable happened, instead of cycling one rotation the machine began to rotate nonstop showering her body with several strokes a second. No matter how she moved she could not seem to escape the rapid rain of blows striking her body as she writhed one way then another. Her screams came out as an endless wail pausing only do draw further breath into her body to continue. All of a sudden the pain went away and she felt herself being guided to the floor. As her vision cleared and she came back to herself she realized she had been rescued. Someone knew her secret now, someone who could make her life a living hell if she could not convince them to help her keep it. She looked up and her despair became complete, her rescuer was Jason Walkraft, her boss. She began to stammer out something about leaving quietly and cleaning out her desk but Jason put his finger to her lips and shushed her. "I am sure there is a very interesting explanation for all of this and I would love to hear it from the beginning. I have been aware that my assistant worked long hours, especially on Fridays but this is beyond any explanation I could come up with. Why don't we discuss this up in my office? By the way we are the only two people in the building so I think you will not need these, you can get them after we talk." With a smooth motion he scooped up her panties, skirt and jacket and left the room. As he left he said, "if you are prompt in getting to my office I might be persuaded to provide a cushion for you to sit on while we speak." Pausing only long enough to knock her machine over onto the floor Sarah gathered herself up and trotted after him hoping that he was not lying about the cushions. The Tally Pt. 02 As she took stock of the room she noticed two things. First The strap had been removed from the motor and secondly her log book was missing. The former did not worry her es she could assume Jason had removed it when he disabled the device. But the missing book scared her, not only did it have a record of all her infraction for the last several months she had used it to record many of her thoughts on her punishment and failings. It was literally an unvarnished window into her soul. Thoughts of the promised cushion brought her back to herself and she quickly hurried across the storeroom and down the hall. When she reached the elevator she pressed the button and awaited her ride back to the upper floor and the office where Jason awaited her. As she waited she thought about Jason's words, he had not talked about firing her, He seemed to actually be slightly amused at her efforts and genuinely curious about her and her means of controlling herself. Could she trust him? Well it was too late for that thought wasn't it now, he had seen what she was doing so how much more shameful could it get? Where was that elevator? She tried pressing the button again to no result; she could not hear the sound of the elevator let alone see any change in the numbers above the door. It was still sitting at the top floor. She jumped as she heard a tapping noise come from the intercom speakers, "Sarah, I am waiting very patiently for you and the elevator seems to be offline right now so you may want to rethink your route up here if you are still interested in that cushion." With a loud click his voice cut off. Rethink my route? But the only other way up to the office level was... With a sinking feeling she gazed at the stairwell door, the stairwell that had such a scenic view all the way from the ground floor up to the office level. A scenic view that worked both ways. With a furious blush she opened the door and began the long climb up the 5 floors to her office. As she came of to the ground floor her eyes scanned the parking lot. The only car she could see was her own beat up Escort sitting near the center of the first row. She briefly considered making a run for it but then she realized that not only would it accomplish nothing other than to forfeit her the position she had worked so hard to secure but she would have to make the run not only from here to her car with her most private portions bare but she would have to repeat the performance when she arrived at her apartment and climbing 4 floors in an occupied building seemed more threatening than 3 more floors here where she knew there was only one other person who could see her and he had already seen that hadn't he? As she climbed the stairs she was very aware of the fact that she was visible to the highway travelers but she hope the quarter mile distance and the fact they were busy going to and fro would minimize the number of spectators to her shame. As she reached the final landing she remembered that the access door on this level required an ID card that she knew was in her skirt, otherwise a person had to push the intercom and ask to be buzzed through. "Son of a...," she began then cut it off remembering that the same intercom could very well be open and anything she said would be heard. She pressed the paging button and said, "please sir may I be allowed into the office level?" She could feel tears coming to her eyes as she waited for a reply. She was standing facing the door so if anyone was looking the bright red welts across her ass would very very visible. After what seemed an eternity and she could feel sobs welling up from deep inside her the door buzzed and she hurried through. The only office lit was on the far end of the floor, an office she was very familiar with since it resided directly behind her own. With a deep breath she drew herself up and strode forward to face the music. As she entered he was sitting in his desk her skirt and panties neatly folded on the couch and her tally book in his hand as he read. She shyly advanced to his desk as he continued reading and stood with her hands covering her bare mound. She stood there for an eternity then with a nod and a sigh Jason shut the book and placed it on his desk as he gave her a long lingering look. With a a slow motion he glanced down at his watch and gave her a look. "Seven minutes and twenty seven minutes to travel 5 floors and 150 feet." He continued to look at her sternly causing her to worry that the promised cushion was a forgone conclusion and she began to pray that he would keep her on her feet as he pronounced judgement rather than making her sit on the hard chair with her brutalized bottom. She began to shift her weight from one foot to the other as she stood under his gaze. After another timeless interval he gave her a slight smile and rose producing a small throw cushion and placing it on the chair gesturing her to sit. "All in all not too bad for someone with no pants to cross such a distance when see had to know that the night watchmen were due any moment." He watched as the realization of the truth of his words made her blush in shame. As she sat gingerly he settled down on the edge of his desk and watched her. Once she had become as comfortable as she was able he resumed talking. "I have never been any less than pleased with your efforts as my assistant. I have found your transcription to be accurate, your correspondence to be precise and professional, and your appearance to be nothing less than a perfect reflection of this company's best face." He added with a wry grin, "present appearance being an exception." He tapped the book behind him on his desk, "Then I find this. Is this the standard you set for yourself and the extremes you are willing to go to maintain them?" With a silent nod she acknowledged the fact. He pursed his lips and pondered that with a deep sigh. "I honestly am not sure what to do about this as yet. I haven't ever had anyone in your position who has impressed me to the extent you have these past few months and wanted you to know that. Your dedication and discipline are something I want to recognize and reward yet I do not want to see you injure yourself in the process. You are much too talented and intelligent to allow you to endanger yourself like this." After a moment he reached for a page sitting on his desk and handed it toe her. "Do you know what this is?" She looked down at it and saw the blueprint she had given the engineers to build her addition to the device she had made. She saw that the name of William Shaw in the designer's entry had a question mark written next to it. She looked up slowly dreading his next question. "I had a talk with Bill a little earlier today and he has no recollection of submitting this prototype to be built. In fact after looking at it he wish he had thought up the breakaway locking mechanism and could take credit for it as it solves a problem we have had on and off for the last year or so. So I had to ask myself who did design this?" he then picked up her strap mechanism. "And lo, where do I find this new design? It is part of a system my favorite assistant is using to discipline herself." He turned the unit over in his hand examining it from various angles. He nodded and placed it on his desk turning his full attention to her. "Do you have anything to say my dear?" She looked at her hands for several minutes as she fought back tears, how had she managed to work so hard keeping herself in check and still manage to throw it all away? She slowly looked up and stammered, "I am very sorry sir and if you permit I can have my things together and be gone tonight. Thank you for everything and I am sorry I have let you down." It was all she could do to not break down and cry in front of him. Then through her misery she heard an odd sound. It sounded like chuckling. Slowly she looked up and saw Jason laughing and looking at her like she had said something extremely funny. All she could do was sit there in confusion. "Why in all that is good and proper would I desire you to leave? You obviously have not listened to anything I have said the last few minutes or haven't understood their meaning." He picked the sheet from her hands and showed it to her, "this is some of the best design work I have seen in a while and it will, as I have said, solve a major problem my engineers have been struggling with for months. Add to that the fact that, as I have said as well, you are one of the finest assistants I have ever worked with. I not only do not want you to leave I wish you to take on further duties and to work even closer with me. "My only major concern is that you are way too strict with yourself and may be setting yourself up for serious injury if you continue as you are doing." He picked up the journal and scanned the pages thoughtfully. "It is obvious that you feel the need of a firm hand to keep you on track and watch over you. But looking through your entries ... Sarah, the punishment you have assessed yourself is often out of proportion to the mistakes you are trying to correct." He set the book down and walked to her lifting her chin so he could look her in the eyes. "I am guessing that you love your father a great deal, "he said to her. She shyly nodded not sure where this was leading. And Lysell while stern did not actually love you and seemed to not hesitate to berate your slightest mistakes, in fact from your accounts she seemed to get a certain amount of enjoyment from your punishments did she not?" "But I needed..." She began. "What you needed was someone who disciplined you because they cared about you. Not a sadist just looking for a willing victim. From where I stand I think her influence did you more harm than good Sarah." He stood and paced the floor pondering the situation as she sat and watched him. Finally he turn and looked at her. "It is obvious that you feel the need for firm hand to not only correct you but give you the support you have been lacking since you left home. I on the other hand need an assistant of your caliber to allow me to be my most effective and creative. On reflection I think we can find a common ground. So I must ask you a very serious question, Do you trust me?" "What? I mean. Ahhh Yes, yes sir I do trust you. You have been very good to me and I want nothing more than to do my absolute best for you." He gave her a warm smile and nodded. "It makes me very happy for you to say so my dear. Very well here is what is going to happen. "First you will continue to keep your tally book as you have done in the past with one major difference, you will not assign the amount or degree of punishment your mistakes require, that you will leave to me. To that end you and I will meet every Friday evening and go through your tallies and deal with them. "Secondly, your new duties will require that you be able to be much more accessible to me as I need you whether that is overseeing reports I need or travelling with me on business. You can't do that while you reside in that war zone that passes for your neighborhood." He turned and gestured out the window. "Do you see that group of buildings across the highway?" "Yes sir." "Those are a set of apartments I had built many years ago so that I could have my design staff close at hand so we could spend more time concentrating on our work rather than navigating the miles of highway between here and their homes, to be sure all of us were bachelors and didn't have a home life to mess up. They are very comfortable and several of the team still live there. There is an electric shuttle that links this building to the complex. I want you to accept one of the units as your own so I can keep you close at hand for when you are needed. No, I am not turning you into my mistress; the apartment is an employee benefit I provide like your 401k fund or health plan. Accepting it does not obligate you in any way other than to make it easier for you to be available for your professional duties. "Do you accept these terms?" She looked at him with eyes filled with both fear and hope. "You still want me?" She was on the edge of tears. "After everything you have found out, my misuse of company resources, my mistakes, and my behavior?" Her gaze indicated everything hinged on his next words. His eyes filled with amusement and there was genuine tenderness in his voice as he answered. "Yes Sarah, I not only want you to stay but I wish to make better use of you and promote your growth and usefulness both to me and my company. But let me address each of your points." He again picked up the drawing and gestured with it. "This design is worth more than three times your salary alone, a point I wish to discuss with you as I want it patented as soon as possible. But that is something we can discuss later. Next, I have never seen any of your so called mistakes because your diligence and dedication have caused you to proofread and edit all your work before it ever reaches me so as far as I am concerned your work is outstanding. Did your instructors not tell you that proofreading and revision are as much part of your job as composition?" He paused to watch her nod slowly still in shock at how fast things were coming at her. "Then I rest my case on that point. As for the question of your behavior, yes that point does concern me. In ordinary circumstances I would say your behavior in the basement would be grounds for dismissal if only to relieve the company of liability for your harm if you injured yourself on company property and while on the clock as it were. But my first two points are sufficient mitigating factors for my decision to retain your services. "Sarah, I believe that you are one of the most underutilized resources this company has. It is in my best interests to cultivate you and redirect your efforts into more productive and health directions. You may not see your value but in this I must ask that you trust my opinion and know that it exists." His warm smile both reassured her and confused her. "Now my dear it is time to finish, properly this time, what you began in the basement." He gestured her to rise. She did so, shyly covering herself with her hands. "Hands at your sides young lady." He said with sharp authority. "You had no problem exposing yourself to be punished there and here is no different." He removed the cushion from her seat and pulled the chair to the center of the room settling himself in it. He beckoned her to his side and as she did so he took her arm and guided her across his lap. As his hand caressed her bottom he spoke, "Now, Sarah, do you know why you are receiving this spanking?" "Sir?," She gulped. "Because of my poor performance and disgraceful behavior?" Smack! His hand came down sharply on her raw bottom making her jump and cry out. "Wrong, Try again." Her mind shuffled through possibilities trying desperately to find the right answer that would not add to her punishment. While this scared her it also felt familiar and right. She again had someone who would care enough about her to correct her. Who did not want her harm, who was not simply acting out their sadistic pleasures. As she pursued this thought and softly began to smile his hand came down again burning her bottom and snapping her back to reality. "Wool gathering my dear?" "I am so sorry sir, thank you for correcting me." She was amazed at her words even as they came from her mouth. Where did that come from? But she knew it was the right thing to say even as she said it. "Sir, I am being punished for not allowing you to deal with my behavior and mistakes yourself. By punishing myself I was overstepping my prerogatives and intruding on yours sir." She did not see his smile but his hand resumed its soft stroking of her bottom, this was having more reactions from her body than she had imagined. If he continued she would definitely have more to be punished for, she blushed deeply. Swat!! His hand came down hard and then again and again. He began a slow but steady rhythm on her bottom and she was soon kicking and crying uncontrollably. As she was wracked with sobs she felt herself begin to relax in places she had not known she was tense. As it continued her body felt lighter as if he was breaking away a great heavy crust about her as he spanked her and allowed it to fall away freeing her from its burden. Finally he stopped and returned to his stroking his voice soft and reassuring. He told her it was over and that she had taken it well, that she was safe and he was proud of her. All of a sudden his words released memories of her father saying similar words and she began to cry again this time not in pain but in relief and joy. She slid from his lap and grabbed him around his waist as she knelt on the floor and held him as if he were her only hope of safety in the world. As she cried she felt his hand stroke her hair and his voice reassuring her again that she was safe. When she finally regained her composure and looked up at him his gentle and warm smile was like a beacon and he guided her to her feet. "Feeling better?" She nodded slowly and then her eyes locked on a large wet stain on his pant leg. Her face fell and she began to blush furiously trying to stammer out an apology. His face was a mixture of stern displeasure and amusement; it was obvious that the amusement was winning out despite his attempts to keep a straight face. "Now what should we do about this my dear?" "Sir, I...that is...I mean..." "It seems discipline does more than correct your performance my dear." He reached out and softly ran a finger between her moist lower lips. His finger came back visibly wet. A shudder ran through her and a low moan escaped her lips. She closed her eyes and for a moment forgot her shame and savored the sensation. "Please...," she gasped, "please sir." "Please what dear?" "Please don't stop, it has been so long sir. I am such a slut but please don't stop." "A slut dear? Are you sure?" "Yes sir, I can't help myself. Even when daddy spanked me I had to go to my room to stroke myself afterwards. I am a disgrace." "You had to stroke yourself? Hmmmm, show me." "Sir????" If you are such a slut and can't help yourself then you are needy right now and if I wait long enough you will find it necessary to touch yourself regardless of my presence correct?" "Sir, I ..I..." She dropped her eyes and beyond belief managed to blush even deeper. Slowly as if she were a dream her hands drifted towards her mound and her middle finger disappeared into her cleft. She slowly closed her eyes and began rock slowly on her knees. As Jason watched shudders begin to pass through her and a low moan escaped her tightly pursed lips. Every escaped moan caused her to work harder to keep silent and wound her closer and closer to climax. As her body neared her limit of control tears of shame poured down her face until finally in a massive convulsion she collapsed as she fell over the edge and into the abyss of her release. As she came back to herself she was aware that she was no longer laying on the floor but reclined on Jason's couch and wrapped in a soft blanket as he sat by her and wiped her face with a cool cloth. With a soft smile he whispered, "Feeling better Sarah?" As her mind reassembled the last few minutes she again blushed but smiled weakly and managed, "Yes, thank you so very very much sir. I can not remember it being so powerful before, how did you know how to bring that out of me?" She paused and before he could answer she took the hand he was wiping her face with into her own and kissed his palm and hand. "Whatever you ask, whatever you require of me it is but yours to ask sir and I will do my utmost to make it so if only you promise to care for me as you have tonight." The Tally Pt. 02 His smile warmed her and as he cupped her cheek in his hand his voice sounded like music in her ears. "Ah my dear, we can discuss that and other matters later. But for now assure yourself that you have nothing to fear from your future. Right now I believe we both could do with a good dinner and some rest. Would you care to join me for dinner?" The Tally However, Lucinda was more of a challenge than even Amy could crack. However much she pleaded and begged and cajoled, Lucinda was steadily adamant that sex on stage was one thing, but off-stage was another. “I mean, don’t you have any other girlfriends you can spend the night with?” Lucinda inquired ingenuously a few days later. Amy sighed resignedly. She’d already resorted to having a night with the pesky Candy on an evening when her disappointment at not bedding Lucinda had most distressed her. Not that Candy was that bad. She had a lovely smooth crotch and was always very energetic, but sex with her in no way improved her total and was not really what she was looking for. And at the same time, sex on stage was just as passionate and orgasmic as ever. Amy found herself particularly looking forward to these moments of ecstasy more than the sex she had in the evening in the comfort and luxury of her bed in her luxurious apartment with whoever it was that she’d picked up for the evening. But she found she was taking out her frustration in Lucinda’s rejection in harder and more aggressive sex. She pissed on Lucinda one evening, even though it wasn’t in the script. She forced her fist deep inside Lucinda’s vagina until the girl squirmed. She nibbled and bit her clitoris and nipples while Lucinda gasped as much from pain, if not more so, than for pleasure. She pushed larger and larger dildos into Lucinda’s orifices to the amazement and satisfaction of the audience who cheered loudly at the extent of the punishment that was being displayed. Amy even tried to tempt Lucinda back with the promise of an evening out with no sex at all, but Lucinda wasn’t having any of it. “Much as I like you, Amy,” she said, wiping the mascara off her face,” I just don’t trust you. As soon as you can, you’ll find an excuse to go back to your apartment, and then you’ll slip off your clothes, lock the door and try seducing me. I’m afraid that’s a temptation, I’d rather not have to face.” Amy blushed. That was precisely what she’d intended to do. She’d even rehearsed her lines. “Please just accept that I don’t want to have sex with you anywhere but on the stage,” Lucinda continued severely. “My body and soul belongs elsewhere. Sex is not something for me that I intend to enjoy other than on the stage.” But Amy was obsessed. And she’d never been obsessed before. Not since she was a schoolgirl and had a crush on her Chemistry teacher, who when they’d finally got together turned out to be such a horrible disappointment. But she was sure that Lucinda wouldn’t be a disappointment. And she found her thinking about the girl all the time, even when she was enjoying sex with other people. In fact, one day on stage, as Lucinda’s tongue probed her vagina and her fingers her breasts, she found herself saying out loud: “I love you! I love you!” And then hoping no one had heard. Sex on stage was one thing. Love was quite definitely another. But she was in love. She even got to love Lucinda’s appalling taste in clothes. The very frumpishness and plainness of it was in itself a cause for celebration. She would look longingly at Lucinda, at her scrubbed face and tied-back hair, imagining the two of them on her mattress, while she confessed her love and divulged the truth of her diary-keeping. And then the two of them would entwine lengthwise on the bed, arms and legs interlocked, as she would confess all her secrets and her longings. And soon the sun would rise and shine on the two of them, lying in serene bliss, and Amy would never need to make love to anyone else. Well, not for a few days anyway. And her diary would read ‘1F. 10/10.Heavenly!’ And so it was, after an afternoon session, that Amy actually followed Lucinda out of the building, keeping her distance so that Lucinda wouldn’t see her trailing her, although a girl like her, in her thigh-length boots and skin-tight dress was not going to be the sort to merge unnoticed in any crowd. And Lucinda led her on such a long trail uptown. Several stops on the subway, past several dismal blocks of decrepit apartments, around the back of a depressing paint factory and then to a large Catholic church which Amy could see Lucinda enter. Amy very rarely went into churches. In fact, never at all as a rule. And a Roman Catholic one. Well! What would her Calvinist father have thought? But Amy hurried in and found herself alone. It was forbidding and to Amy not at all welcoming. All around were paintings and sculptures and carved crucifixes and row upon row of pews, but no sign of Lucinda. She had vanished altogether. Amy cursed herself. Clearly, Lucinda had seen Amy behind her and had taken the opportunity to slip into a church just to get away from her. Amy left the church, lit a cigarette and sat on a bench in the church grounds reflecting on the futility of her passion and making plans for the rest of the day. Perhaps she’d go to a bar. Pick up a couple of men. Have a good fuck somewhere. She noticed rather a few people around her, mostly men, dressed in very poor quality clothes. In fact, some of them were distinctly ragged. Couldn’t they afford anything better? But then she spotted a sign. ‘Soup Kitchen’ it read. What did that mean? Was it some kind of rock club or a strange kind of café. But, no, it was actually a place for vagrants to gather to be fed soup and bread and whatever. Fuck! How sordid! Amy sat on the bench fascinated. Poverty was something she’d never really known, and she’d often been disgusted by the sight of beggars and the like on the subway. However, there was a bit of excitement amongst the vagrants who all gathered by a door at the side of the church. And then a rather elderly nun appeared carrying a large cauldron, which she placed on the ground. Like feeding animals at the zoo, thought Amy sourly, as a couple of other nuns emerged behind the first nun carrying cups and some clear plastic bags full of sandwiches. The nuns weren’t so bad looking. Quite thin, and from what Amy could see, probably quite attractive underneath their gowns. And then one of them looked up in her direction, and with a start Amy now understood. That sweet face. That strange slightly beatific smile. Lucinda was a nun. Amy glanced at a carved crucifix over the church sign, in the afternoon shadow of the church itself. Now she knew, and the sadness and waste of it hurt her. Now she knew to whom Lucinda’s body and soul belonged.