An Englishman’s Word

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Owning a wine importation business I’m constantly surprised that people still believe in national stereotypes. Most of my suppliers seem to think that we all wear bowler hats and carry umbrellas, and that British society is like a Dickens novel. With Lord’s of the manor living in castles and exploiting downtrodden servants, while the rest of us live in thatched cottages. Although I must admit, some of the other stereotypes are more useful, as most people seem to think that we are trustworthy, honest and always keep our word. So much so that often contracts abroad have been sealed by nothing more than a handshake.

Although I started the company many years ago, we’re still quite a small concern, many of my staff have been with me for many years, and I look on them more as friends I work with than employees. In particular my secretary/PA Jill, and Andrew the linguist/sales manager were there at the beginning before my wife died, and I have found their support invaluable over the years. Jill tends to sort out most of the staff problems and Andrew’s linguistic skills are always in demand. I can speak French fluently, having spent several years there, learning the trade after graduating, and can get by in Italian, but my German is pretty none existent, other than , hello, goodbye, and ordering a round of drinks.

In recent years with the expansion of the E.U. we had begun to foster links with the wine growing regions in the new member states. Under communism the pressure was for quantity over quality, but recently some excellent and grossly undervalued wines were appearing on the market. We’d begun importing quite a bit from Romania, and were keen to capitalise on, and strengthen the ties we had established with one of the exporters, before our competitors did. So when they suggested sending over one of their staff to liaise between our two companies we were happy to agree. Which is how Sophia came to be working in my office.

She had just graduated from university with a business degree, spoke excellent English, and was a conscientious and hardworking employee. The fact that she was pretty with long black hair and a curvy figure was just the icing on the cake. However for someone of her age she seemed very innocent in the ways of the world, and was very shy and naïve, the result of a sheltered religious upbringing. She also found Britain and British culture confusing, and not at all what she had expected, and as a result consequently believed almost anything she was told. The girls in the office teased her a bit, and told her things just to watch her blush, but they were never spiteful, and everyone seemed to warm to her.

She also seemed to find the idea that we were all on first name terms surprising, and insisted on calling me, Mr. Cooper, even though I repeatedly told her to call me John. It seemed some of the stereotypes were more difficult to dispel than others.

Soon after our Christmas party I became aware that whenever I spoke to her she seemed agitated, and seemed to find it difficult to make eye contact with me. Also, I sometimes caught her watching me out of the corner of my eye, but when I looked at her she turned away and pretended to be busy working.

I mentioned this to Jill, who seemed as puzzled as I was, but said she’d try to investigate. When she came back a few minutes later she was obviously amused by what she had learned. It appeared that at the Christmas party some of the girls had told her that if they made any mistakes at work, I would bend them over my desk and spank them. At first even Sophia wouldn’t believe them, but the other girls were in on the joke, and all claimed to have been spanked by me.

I’ll admit I was quite annoyed, as I was worried this would be passed on to her employers at home and ruin my reputation there. So told Jill to sort it out, and to make sure that the girls explained it had all been a joke. However, as it was the end of the week, and some of the girls were away on a training course, she promised to attend to it on Monday.

I was just switching off the lights in my office, having assumed everyone else had left, when Sophia burst in in an emotion state clutching an invoice. She was clearly very upset, and kept babbling about some mistake she’d made. She explained that she had undercharged a customer by a substantial amount. I was quite surprised, not just by her state, but also the fact she’d made any error at all, as until then her work had been exemplary. I was even more surprised by what she did next, she put down the invoice, and bent over my desk saying she understood that she would have to be punished for her error.

She looked so sexy bent over, it was all I could do not to take advantage of the situation, but I’ve always tried to be honest, so I explained that it was a joke that had back-fired, and that she didn’t need to worry as she wouldn’t be getting a spanking. I further added that everyone made mistakes sometime, and that I’d forgive her güvenilir bahis error if she didn’t make a habit of it. I expected her to be relieved, but instead she burst into floods of tears.

Eventually she calmed down enough, so that I could understand what she was saying. Apparently, since the girls had told her the story she’d been unable to get it out of her mind, had found herself watching me and fantasising about being spanked. She’d played it over and over in her mind, and found she couldn’t talk to me without thinking about it.

So this was why she’d made the mistake that was so out of character, I said as much, but she shook her head. Then admitted that she’d sent the wrong invoice on purpose, so that I would have to spank her. By this time I was sitting comforting her, she had stopped crying and was just sniffling. I was still having difficultly making sense of it all, but realised this was an opportunity I’d be stupid to pass up. I stood up and told her that as it had been a deliberate error, it was no longer a mistake, but a disciplinary matter. She gave me a confused look wiping her tears away. Then I pointed at the desk and told her to get back over it. With a nervous smile she complied.

For a moment I was having second thoughts, I was worried someone might catch us, or that I’d misread the situation, and she would tell someone and ruin my reputation. Then I looked at her bent over the desk in her tight black skirt, and knew I’d always regret it if I let her go. I put on my sternest voice, well I thought that’s what she’d want and ordered her to lift up her skirt, but as it was too tight, and without a moments hesitation she unzipped it and let it drop to the floor kicking it off. Then bent over again, I thought she’d be a tights girl, so was surprised to find her wearing hold-up stockings and lacy white knickers. But reasoned, correctly as I later found out, that as she’d planned the spanking then they were probably for my benefit.

It had been a considerable time since I’d last spanked anyone, an ex-girlfriend had once enjoyed it as part of foreplay, but I wasn’t sure how hard to be with Sophia. However as she’d expected to be punished for a mistake rather than as a little fun, I assumed she wanted it quite hard.

I placed my left hand in the small of her back to stop her moving, and really let her have it, hard stinging slaps on her perfect bottom. She yelped and wriggled but didn’t protest or try to get up. So I repeated it again and again, and again, alternating from cheek to cheek until her bottom was a glowing a rosy red and my hand was hurting.

At first she was gently sobbing, and apologising, but as the spanking continued her sobs turned to gentle moans. I still wasn’t sure how far to take things, but as she appeared to enjoy being dominated. I simply told her to take off her blouse.

She stood up with tears on her cheeks, and a nervous smile on her face, and unbuttoned it, then I told her to take off her bra as well, she hesitated but obeyed.

She had beautiful breasts, large and pale with small areola, and coral pink nipples. I reached out and cupped one in my hand feeling it’s firmness and weight. She gasped and as I ran my fingers over it felt her nipple harden.

She looked at me shyly from under her fringe, gently biting her lip as I fondled them both. As she made eye contact again, I told her to take off her knickers. I thought for a moment that I’d gone too far, and that she’d run screaming from my office, but after a few seconds when her mind seemed in turmoil, she slowly slipped them off , and tried to cover herself with her hands. I brusquely told her to move her hands, and could then clearly see her neatly trimmed black pubic hair. She was fidgeting and blushing as I surveyed her naked body. I pointed at my desk, and told her to get back over it.

She let out a cry as her hard nipples touched the cold surface, I came around behind her and ran my fingers over her glowing bottom, making her gasp, then gently pushed her thighs apart, letting my fingers delve between them and teased apart her labia. She was obviously very aroused, and very wet, and as I massaged her prominent clitoris with her copious juices, she continued to moan and writhe.

Throwing any remaining caution to the wind, I moved behind her and after extracting my painfully erect penis from my trousers, and taking it in hand pressed it between her engorged labia.

Up until that moment, I didn’t imagine that there were any more surprises left, however when she realised what I was about to do. She suddenly started begging me to stop, saying she was a virgin, and that it would dishonour her and her family if I took her virginity.

Although I was bitterly disappointed, I understood her reasons, I knew she’d had a very sheltered religious upbringing, so went to step away, told her not to worry, and gave her my word I wouldn’t try anything. Once again what she did next completely flabbergasted türkçe bahis me. She reached behind herself, and looking at me shyly from under her fringe, took hold of my penis, and while gently biting her lip guided it between her buttocks, and placed it against her tight pink anus.

I still wasn’t sure if she really wanted this, and asked her, but when she nodded I realised

that this was probably part of her fantasy too. So taking my penis in hand, and placing my other hand on her rosy bottom to steady her, began to push. She screamed but didn’t try to move, just buried her head in her hands, and spread her legs further apart. I tried again, and she began to sob, but kept still. No matter how hard I pushed I couldn’t breach her, so reasoning that I needed more lubrication I moved down and rubbed my penis between her labia. She arched her back and began begging me to stop, as she thought I intended to penetrate her. I reassured her that I was only trying to make it easier for her, and gave her my word that I wouldn’t take her virginity. She relaxed a little, and I began coating my penis in her juices, I also used my fingers to massage some of it into her anus, and even when my penis was slightly inside her, the fact I had given her my word seemed to placate her. To be honest, she was so wet that with only one good push I could have taken her virginity there and then, but there was no way I would have betrayed her trust in me.

At last she seemed to have relaxed sufficiently that I decided to try again.I positioned my penis against her pale pink virgin anus, and seizing her hips in both hands pushed hard. She squealed and I felt her sphincter yield, and the head of my penis forced it’s way inside her. It felt so different from a vagina, hotter and tighter, just like an elastic band stretched around my penis. I held still, letting her get used to the sensation, then began gently to push further inside. It felt so tight and spongy, and as I eased my shaft deep inside her she started sobbing and begging me to ‘use’ her. I dug my fingers into her glowing bottom, and pushing her cheeks apart thrust hard, driving my penis ball deep into her once virgin anus. She screamed, and arched her back, then fell forward on the desk, her arms spread and tears falling from her face to land on the polished desk surface. Holding still inside her, I let her feel the depth of the penetration, and appreciate her complete submission to my will. Then slowly pulled back, allowing her to realise how deep her violation had been, pausing momentarily before thrusting back hard, driving the air from her lungs, and a squeal from her lips. Gradually, her anus began to open up, and I increased the speed of my thrusting, she started wailing and thrashing around, saliva dripping from her mouth forming a pool on the desk, her knuckles white as she held onto the far edge of the desk. I continued pummelling her arse, and could feel that I couldn’t last much longer. So bending over her I whispered in her ear that I was going to come inside her. She moaned, her breathing harsh and ragged. So with a final lunge I buried my penis deep inside her young body, and holding it there ejaculated into her bowels. As she felt spurt after spurt of hot semen spraying inside her, she arched her back and orgasmed, her body convulsing impaled on my penis.

We lay there for a few moments, then as my erection faded I slowly pulled it from her, and watched as a trickle of semen dribbled from her gapping anus and ran down over her virgin vagina, and on down her leg. I took my fingers and rubbed it onto her swollen clitoris and watched as another orgasm tore through her body, her anus twitched, and then slowly closed up.

I helped her to her feet, she seemed dazed and disorientated, unsteady on her legs. So I passed her clothes to her and helped her to dress. She kept on thanking me, over and over, for not taking her virginity, and babbling how sorry she was that she couldn’t be a ‘proper woman for me. Once she’d tidied herself up and seemed a little calmer I decided to drive her home. She usually walked to work, but I didn’t think she was in a fit state to walk after what she’d been through, and wanted to talk to her. I still couldn’t understand what had come over her she always seemed so sensible and shy. I know that they say that, ‘still waters run deep.’ but something must have made her have these fantasies.

As we drove to her flat she seemed deep in thought, I asked her if she was O.K. and she turned, smiled a nervous smile and nodded. I parked outside her door and insisted in coming inside with her. I wanted to make sure that she was really alright, and find out how this would affect us working together.

She apologised that her flat was a mess, as she hadn’t been expecting any company, and started hurriedly tidying up. Gathering up stray clothes and magazines, as I stood in front of her book shelves. I commented that she had lots of books, she replied that she used them to help güvenilir bahis siteleri her written English, and as a way to understand British culture. They were a rather random selection, some classic, some trashy novels and even some thrillers. She asked me to take a seat, and indicated an armchair in front of the T.V.

Taking the clothes into her bedroom, she then went into the kitchen to make some drinks. I sat down, but finding that something was digging into my back rummaged under the cushion and extracted a book. I was about to throw it on the coffee table, when I looked at the cover and smiled, so that was it.

It showed a young black haired girl who appeared to be dressed as a maid, kneeling with her head bowed, that may not have been that unusual, but her hands were bound behind her back, and there was a gag in her mouth. I was just reading the ‘blurb’ on the back, which summarized the BDSM adventures of a girl called Emily, when I heard her returning and quickly put the book in my jacket pocket.

She placed a tray containing a teapot, milk, sugar and two cups on the coffee table in front of my chair, and then after poring the tea, rather surprisingly knelt down next to my chair. I’d would have thought she would have sat on the sofa opposite, but she seemed happy enough and smiled at me. I started to ask her about what had just happened, and how she felt about it all.

She thanked me again, calling me an English gentleman, and saying how she knew she could trust me with what she called her ‘honour’. That she would put herself in my hands and do whatever I wished. I then asked her would she do it again, and she suddenly went a little pale, and said she was too sore. I hadn’t actually meant that, I had meant in the future, but before I could explain that, she placed her hand on my thigh, and asked me what I wanted her to do instead.

I could feel my penis responding, and decided the tea could wait. I unzipped my trousers, and extracting my semi-erect penis, placed her hand on it. She fondled it, as though she’d never handled one before, and so I decided to show her how to masturbate me. She seemed delighted as it became hard, and started sliding her hand faster and faster up and down the shaft. But when I told her to take it in her mouth, she shook her head, and apologising reminded me it had been up her bottom. I’ll admit that until that moment I’d forgotten that neither of us had had time to wash afterwards. So not wishing to push her too far this early. I told her to rub it between her breasts.

She slipped off her blouse and bra, without a moments hesitation, and placed my penis in her ample cleavage, leaned forward and rapped her soft white breasts around my straining erection. She giggled as I rutted between them, watching the head popping up and disappearing again, as I fucked her breasts. Then with a groan, I ejaculated a thick stream of semen, over her neck and face. One spurt hung for a moment on her cheek then slowly ran down and dripped onto her breasts. Another spurt had run across her mouth, and as I searched for tissues in my pocket to help clean her up, I noticed her little pink tongue dart out and lick her lips when she thought I wasn’t looking.

After we’d cleaned ourselves up, we had the tea, and agreed that as it was now the weekend we should meet the following day to talk. I suggested that she came over to my house for a meal the next evening, and she seemed delighted with the idea. As I left her flat, I patted the book in my pocket and decided to do a little research before our next meeting.

I was up early the next day, I had lots to do before the evening. I was sitting in my kitchen eating porridge and drinking a cup of tea, while flicking through the book. I could see where she’d got her fantasy from, poor Emily our eponymous heroine, had been spanked and lost her virginity.( not anal I noted.) in chapter two. Although that too had gone by chapter eleven. I checked my watch, and quickly calculated how long it would take me to drive to Chester and back, as I needed to get some things for tonight, and still have time to cook the meal before she arrived at eight.

Just before eight the bell rang and I opened the door to see a transformation on the step. Gone were the business clothes, she was wearing a colourful summer dress, and sandals, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her smiling cheerful manner seemed so different to the way she behaved at work. She handed me a bunch of flowers, and pecked me on the cheek.

The meal went well, she was surprised that I cooked for myself, and didn’t have servants. (those stereotypes again.) The wine flowed freely, as you would expect, but throughout there was an uneasy sexual tension. As though each of us was waiting for the other to make the first move. We had just finished the coffee and liqueurs, when I pretended to remember something. I came back in with a gift wrapped box, saying it was for her. She was standing looking at my bookcase, and I took the glass from her hand and gave her the large package. She was about to open it, and looking at the gift tag, said there was some mistake. It wasn’t for her it was for someone called Emily.

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