Perhaps I'm a slut then...

No I'm not a slut, but I can do 'slut' when it's appropriate. It was appropriate on Tuesday evening.

We were at the office waiting for a delivery to arrive from Alicante, it was well after hours everyone had left ages ago and our courier's ETA had passed. It arrived eventually, 6 heavyish cartons, I couldn't lift one, P and the driver brought them into the building using the back entrance because the front was locked. I made the driver a cup of tea, he looked tired, he'd been delayed by French Customs, P started moving the goods upstairs on his own to my little satellite office. Twenty minutes later he came down to see where I was, I was still chatting with the driver, P gave me a look and returned to his business (my business actually). The driver left minutes later after leaving me his firms card for dealing direct instead of paying an agent's commission, that pleased me because I like to save money like anyone else but also I know P likes to more than anyone else and I looked forward to telling him. I went upstairs.

"Ah, good of you to come up," said my husband, "only four cartons to check so we should be finished in about an hour if you intend to help, it being your business after all and me just giving up my evening to hump boxes about while you chat up delivery men."

Now I know my husband, I know he couldn't be seriously suggesting I was 'chatting up' as he put it, I'm not a flirt, just polite, anyway I got stuck in. Half an hour later we were finished or near enough and I said to P I'd buy him a pint in the pub across the road for helping me. He said he was surprised I hadn't taken the delivery man for a pint as I seemed to like his company. I told him no, I wouldn't encourage alcohol for drivers. Then I announced the card he'd given me, I reckon it will save me 20% on future deliveries, but P didn't seem impressed and asked me what I'd had to give in return. Was he joking or what? Sometimes I can hardly tell, maybe he wants it that way.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I didn't give him a blow job if that's what you're suggesting," and then as an afterthought, ".......although he was quite cute," and as an after afterthought, ".......and you haven't offered much for over a week now, since before I went to Paris in fact." I actually winked as I said this to make it clear it was in jest.

"I see," said my husband. Then he gripped my arm, marched me across to the only chair we have in that office, put me across his lap and spanked me hard over my jeans,

and I'm sure I was smiling like the cat that got the cream all the way through it although when he let me up I straightened and moved away from him rubbing my bottom and glaring.

He told me to finish off the last box no point leaving it almost finished, then he left the office without another word. It seemed I had pissed my husband off which was a pity because the warm glow in my backside was making me horny, even through my jeans his hand had been very effective. I quickly checked off the last few items and was about to lock the office door when I heard P coming up the stairs.

"Don't lock up," he called, he'd obviously heard the keys jangling. He appeared from the stair well. "We're not quite finished yet."

He'd been down to our main office and fetched his school cane, which still had a bit of packaging tape on it from where he sticks it under his desk, I thought it was funny and smiled a bit and was about to say something when he said "I'm so glad you think this is funny" and ordered me back into the office. He shut the door behind us and looked around then settled his gaze on my desk which was a bit cluttered but not with anything important and which he cleared to the side.

My desk sits against the single window which overlooks the roof of the one storey offices below and the park in the distance but of course at night time it's almost black and just reflects the office like a dark mirror. I've been spanked over it before but not like this. I saw myself led up to the desk, my husband behind me, I saw his hands move round the front of my jeans to the stud and zipper and I saw him pull them down to below desk height. Then he bent me forward and I saw my face get bigger as it got closer to the glass and my eyes were wide but not with fear and I saw P position himself to my left and I was excited and I had to strain to keep my head looking up so that I could watch myself as my husband caned me. God it was exciting because it was different, and painful and erotic and frustrating all at the same time. P caned me about ten or so times and each time I saw him about to do it and each time I whimpered before the stroke landed across my bottom and each time I missed the bit I really wanted to see in the glass...

...I wanted to see the look on my face the exact moment the cane landed on my bottom but each time it happened I instinctively scrunched my eyes shut so I missed it.

I was shouting out loud towards the end and then oohing and aahing when he put his hand on my bottom to feel his work. I still had my knickers on and I wiggled because I wanted him to put his hand inside or better still rip them off. He didn't rip them, fortunately for me as they're Elle one of my favourite pairs, but he did pull them down and I gasped which I nearly always do when I get my pants pulled down and then I made some disgusting low moaning sound

as I saw my husband unzipping his fly, I couldn't even see his cock spring out because he was directly behind me but the effect seeing him in the glass had on me was awesome.

I screamed in delight when he penetrated me

and tried with all my might using my hands clenched tight against the desk to push myself harder onto his cock I wanted every bit I could get as hard and deep and fast as possible. I came in less than a minute and P let out a great bellow at more or less the same time then slumped forward onto me and kissed my neck and whispered "Bet you don't think it's funny now". My answer was something like mmmmm.

When P stood up and pulled out of me with a plop, I wiggled my backside again, only because it made me shudder not being cheeky or anything. P asked me if I'd learned my lesson about dallying with delivery men, I said "What do you mean P, I don't dally, I just give them blowjobs", of course I was being cheeky now and we both knew it. I made to get up but my husband stopped me with a hand on my back and told me only sluts give blowjobs to delivery men. I said perhaps I'm a slut then.

"Then you'll be treated like one," said my husband. He took the cane to me again and this time I had my eyes scrunched all the time, it hurt like hell and although it was short it was very hard. When he stopped I sprung up and stomped the floor and said "P, I thought sluts just got fucked not caned".

He just said some sluts get both. When I pulled my pants and jeans up over my enraged bottom they seemed to have shrunk, I had to wriggle that last bit into them. Then we locked up and P said I could buy him that pint now and I had to go with him into the pub, he even got me to order at the bar too, I'm sure every man in the room knew I'd just been caned.

Or is that just my imagination:)

Sorry that was rather a long one but you know me:) Have a fun Easter weekend.

Ronnie

xx