Cindy Ch. 02

As they ate lunch, Cindy expected the subject of her punishment to come up, but it never did, as much as she wanted it to, and later that afternoon she entered the little millinery-lingerie shop next door. They indeed had a wide selection of garter belts and thigh high stocking, and guided by an elegant lady named Andréa, she took three garter belts of different styles and five pairs of jet-black, lace topped stocking. The lady even helped her pick out several pairs of wonderfully soft panties. One thing she knew she needed right now were panty liners.

"These should fit you perfectly. Almost as good as the tailor made."

"You mean ladies have panties tailor made for them?" Cindy asked in astonishment.

"Why yes, of course, men also, we carter to both sexes."

"Come again?" The lady smiled seeing the expression on her face.

"Both men and woman wear panties nowadays, but mostly the men's aren't so frilly or lacy, mainly. It's the material." Cindy still didn't get it, as the lady could see. "Have you ever looked at what men have to wear? Mostly plain cotton and a few nylon underpants is all that's on the market for them."

"Yes, I noticed that."

"So why can't men buy underwear in the same materials as their female counterparts?"

"I don't know. Because men don't buy them?"

"Nonsense. They just don't have a choice, that's all. Here they do."

"Wow."

"By the way, not to be impolite, but do you shave?"

"Shave?" Cindy blinked. Her Dad shaved every morning. "No, I guess not."

"Thought so," the woman walked over to the counter and returned with a small can, "instead of shaving, use this, no nasty stubble." She held it out. "Its sprays on as you can see. Keep it on for five to ten minutes then use a soft wash clothes to remove the residue. It works for under arms and legs as well."

"Thank you, I will." At a loss to really know what the woman meant, Cindy put the can in her shopping bag along with the other items, and after a short while she was on her way home.

The 'beast' did its thing again, constantly threatening to just die at every stop light, but it got her home. After a small dinner and a short chat with her folks, Cindy made it up to her room so she could try on her new things. Some cream soothed the last of the pinkness on her bottom, but she was careful not to get any on her new panties. The lady was right; they fitted like a glove and felt so much better than the ones she normally wore. She stood in front of the mirror, admiring the way they looked, turning this way and that, when it dawned on her what the lady in the shop was talking about. She didn't mean shave, like her Dad, but shave her muff. Cindy gulped. Did girls really do that?"

She'd heard of them getting waxed to remove unsightly hair for bikinis, but the whole thing? The lady wasn't kidding when she said it, so? Cindy looked at herself again, her nose wrinkling in a mouse of disapproval. Stripping, she headed for the bathroom, feeling naughty as she sprayed the contents of the can all over her muff and between her legs. She tried to imagine someone actually shaving this with a razor.

"Damn! They must use a mirror." She muttered, looking at her legs, and with a shrug she sprayed them as well, then her under arms.

Humming to herself, she plucked her eyebrows while she waited, poking her tongue out at herself in the mirror, feeling happier than she had in a long time. She didn't have to think about it long to discover the reason, but why getting spanked like a naughty little girl should make her feel so happy, she didn't know; only it did.

Twenty minutes later she exited the shower feeling slightly embarrassed. One look was enough to make her blush. For the first time in a long while she could see the pink lips of her pussy, and an exploring finger told her she was completely smooth and clean, with not a trace of hair anywhere. She tried the new panties on again, immediately feeling the difference. They fitted perfectly now, if more revealing than before. The wickedly thin material molded itself to her body, and caressed her pussy, the lips clearly defined and leaving no doubt about her lack of a muff. It was the rest of her body that made her pout, feeling the puppy fat around her middle. She wished she had the beautiful thin waist of the woman in the shop, and her wonderful cleavage. With a sigh, she tried on a garter belt and stockings, understanding the difference immediately. She felt free and un-constricted, unlike the pantyhose. They were also much easier to put on, instead of the usual contortions she usually had to go through to put them on. As much as she tried to resist, she could help but continue reading the story of 'O', beginning to understand why a young woman would permit herself to be punished as 'O' had. In this day and age, what Richard Masters had done to her was a definite no-no, and grounds for all sorts of law suits, and yet, she'd accepted her punishment without any real protest. What if next time... if there was a next time, he wanted to... At that point Cindy climaxed in a shattering organism like she'd never felt before, just thinking about what he might do to her next. Snuggling down under the covers after, feeling warm and safe, she drifted off to sleep of a cloud of erotic images.

The next morning she arrived at work on time for once, smiling, and shivering slightly as Richard came down and unlocked the front door, wondering if he'd thought about the way he punished her the day before.

"How are you this morning, Cindy?" She would have liked to read a double meaning into his words, but thought she'd better not.

"Wonderful, sir."

"Good. Did you have breakfast yet?"

"No, sir, I haven't."

"Then you should. I just finished my morning run and exercise, so maybe we can have breakfast together.

"Umm that would be nice, sir. I wish I could remember to exercise every morning."

"You don't?"

"No," she looked down at the floor, "I keep forgetting."

"Then you should in over at six, and we can run together. How's that?"

"I'd like that, sir, thank you." No that she liked running, but the thought of being closet to him made her agree.

The next morning she arrived a six, despite the 'beast' best efforts to make her late and soon fell gradually into a comfortable routine. She would arrive at six, and they'd run. At first she couldn't do more than a quarter of a mile before exhaustion set in, but Richard didn't say anything. Gradually she ran further each day until she was up to a mile without collapsing at the end. Back at the shop, she used the upstairs bathroom to shower and change before going to breakfast with him. On a few occasions she came out of the bathroom as he was dressing, seeing his hard well formed body before he put his shirt on. Never once did he make overtures towards she, seeming content in a strictly employer, employee relationship. They talked about books and he taught her how to distinguish a real rare book from a fake. Cindy was thankful for the large supply of panty liners she kept handy as many time he'd have to stand close as he explained something, or leaned over as she was working to examine something she wanted an explanation for. In many ways it was frustrating and Cindy had given up any self-pretence that she didn't want him to take her.

Forgers mostly couldn't spend the time and effort it took to create a true fake, and those that did were for the uninitiated. Any book expert worth his salt could spot one in a second. Manuscripts were harder, as they usually consisted of only one or two sheets of parchment. Some forgeries were so good, that even experts were fooled. Her days were filled with cataloging new shipment that Richard purchased at estate sales and the like, and tending a constant stream of customers. The times he was away were the most frustrating, as she had to run by herself, eat by herself, open and close the shop and mope at her desk until he came back.

At some point Cindy knew things had to come to a head. After that first bare bottom spanking he hadn't found a reason to repeat the punishment, and Cindy realized that it was her fault. Whether out of shyness, fear or expectation she hadn't screwed up sufficiently for Master Richards to punish her, even when she tried. One evening, while re-reading the 'Story of O' it dawned on her that he was waiting for her to make the next move. Whatever happened next had to be consensual on her part. She had to want whatever it was he might and could do to her, and if the book she was reading was any guide at all, that was a lot. So the question she had to ask herself, and answer was, did she want to go down that road?

The question haunted her, even though she already knew the answer. She lost sleep, couldn't eat properly and started getting snippy with some of the telephone customers. Then she was late for their morning run, much to Richards's displeasure. He didn't say anything for a while, putting her mood down to the usual female monthly cycle, but as it continued, he voiced his displeasure, to no effect. Without even knowing it, she was pushing him, wanting him to take the decision away from her, giving her no option but to submit or run away. The last thing she wanted was to run away. In the end Richard Masters was left with no recourse. Early the next morning he tapped the intercom.

"Cindy, can you come into my office, please."

"Yes sir. I'll be there in a minute." Feeling slightly irritable she entered his office and sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

"Cindy, I'm displeased with your performance lately." Cindy sat up straighter, hearing the edge to his voice. 'Here it comes' a voice in her head whispered.

"Oh... I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well."

"Anything that you might need to see a doctor about?" He was giving her an out, but she didn't take it, expecting, with some trepidation, what was coming.

"No... sir. Nothing that I need to go see a doctor about."

"Then I can only say that I'm disappointed in your performance, Cindy."

"Yes, sir." The tone of his voice left no doubt about how disappointed he was.

"On several occasion you were late for our morning run, not that it's a mandatory or part of your employment agreement. None the less, you agreed to certain conditions, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir." She wished she could stop staying that, it sounded so childish, but she couldn't, or dare call him Richard, and using his last name sounded so formal.

"It has also come to my attention, that you have been less than civil to some of my customers, is that right?" Cindy swallowed.

"Yes, sir." Was her reluctant confession.

"And, your work performance is poor, and not what I expect from you." Now she felt miserable, and didn't really have any excuse. He was right, and she held her breath.

"Therefore, I feel that some form of disciplinary action is required, don't you?" She could say no, and probably end it right here, but she didn't.

"Yes, sir. I agree." She almost whispered.

"It would appear that the last lesson wasn't sufficiently direct to bring the point home."

"Oh, it was, sir, honest." Suddenly dreading what he was about to do.

"I see," he paused a moment, contemplating his next thought, a perfectly manicured forefinger running back and forth along his lower lip, "then I can only surmise that additional disciplinary action is required." Cindy could only nod; as her throat was so dry she couldn't speak.

"Very well then, go and lock the front door, and put the 'out to lunch' sign up. Then come back here." Now his voice stern, leaving little doubt in her mind what she could expect.

Quickly she stood, hurrying to lock the front door and turn the sign around. As she did, it occurred to her that she could leave. She could open the door and walk out, closing it behind her and walk away. Whatever happened when she went back would be on her head, as by doing so, she'd given him tact permission to do whatever he had in mind as her punishment. She sighed softly, her original thought about asking what the punishment was before hand forgotten. She looked at her hand holding onto the door handle, surprised to find how easy it was to let go, turn, and walk back to his office. As she approached, he met her at the door, nodding and smiling slightly.

"Follow me."

He walked towards the back of the shop and stopped before the door leading down to the basement. Opening it with a large old fashion key and motioning her to enter. She did, finding herself on a landing at the top of the stairs leading down. He entered after her and locked the door behind him, then nodded for her to precede him down the stairs. Now her heart was in her throat, unspecified threats and punishment tumbling through her mind. Letting out a soft shuddering breath she descended the stairs, her palms, and inner thighs damp with nervous tension.

The soft, indirect lighting gave the basement a comfortable feel, and this was no bare basement. The walls and ceiling were paneled in cedar, its woody perfume adding to the feeling of homeliness, while the floor was covered wall to wall in thick soft tan carpeting.

It cushioned her footfalls as she walked to the center of the forty-foot-by-forty-foot room. A couch and easy chair sat at one end, with a large, oddly padded coffee table with bright metal rings at each corner. Looking behind her, she saw a wide screen TV and entertainment unit against the wall, opposite to the couch and easy chairs. She heard his slow measured footsteps coming down the stairs, knowing he was watching her, anticipating what was to come. He was also giving her time to survey the contents of the room, and a few of the item made her shiver involuntarily.

Across the ceiling the main crossbeams of the foundation were exposed, but finished and stained a light oak. Here and there steel eyebolts protruded, but what purpose they served, Cindy could only guess at. A square, drape covered object dominated the center of the room, but Richard led her over to the couch.

"Take off your blouse and skirt, Cindy." His voice stern and commanding.

END OF PART TWO