"I've got work to do." What sort of work?" Scouting," I told her. "I'm a soldier, Maryland Line." It was the easiest way to say it although it was not true."Oh," she said, wiggling and trying to get comfortable, stirring me as she did. She hooked her feet behind my legs."Where did you live?" I asked. "Before all this?" When my mother died, we lived in Marfield, just over the line." She went on and told me about her step-father, an itinerant preacher of some sort and how he tried to get her into his bed and then sold her, saying she was indentured to get a better price."Man that bought me got a paper, forgery of course," she said. "He raped me, took my maidenhead, the bastard." Then she was quiet for a while. When we came to another inn, I helped her down and we went in and had a good meal."Now what?" she asked after finishing her cider. She had raked her hair back with her fingers and sat proudly, her fine chest jutting out at me in her torn but well-made dress. She evidently did not. “I see you're ashamed, but it doesn't mitigate your short-term lapse in judgement. You need paddling and you need it to be hard.”“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Forced to answer for her conduct, respect rushed through her. She spread her feet and held position.The paddle tapped her panties. She bent lower, reached forward across the desk and gripped the far edge with her fingertips to brace herself.“However exciting a date might be, a prolonged messaging conversation at work is not the behavior I would expect of someone in your position. A quick response explaining you're at work and offering to chat later would have been appropriate.”Solid heat slammed into her bottom as his words whipped her. A loud crack echoed off the marble floor and assaulted her ears. Burning sting erupted on both cheeks. Pain pummeled her as the hurt sunk deep into her butt.The fake flirting had excited her, now her dereliction of duty consumed her. Deep ache drove into her behind as the oak burned her skin. She.
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