Ana in the Summer - story
Ana arrived in the April, but because of the way shifts fell I was the last one in the team to meet her. Heather had been very pleased with herself about the hire, and the others talked about how efficient she was and how quickly she learnt the ropes. This didn’t prepare me for our first meeting. I arrived as usual just in time to start and was greeted by a lovely smile so warm it would melt the coldest heart. ‘Hi I am Ana; I am so pleased to meet you at last.’ She came to hug me, and, in that moment, I knew I would fall in love. She was I learnt later 30 years old. She had the air of a farm girl about her, big built and strong, not hugely tall but certainly more than my 5’3”. She was a graduate of Guildhall and was trying to makeit in the world of jazz, but as she said, ‘there’s no bank of Mum and Dad.’
I was a little disgruntled that she seemed to have already learnt everything so there was nothing I could teach her, but I swallowed my pride. Quickly the rota seemed to put us on together often, and I looked forward to the days when she was there. At night I began touching myself thinking of her.
Soon minor grumbles about her started to emerge. Some of my colleagues found her bossy, and they didn’t like the way she spoke to some of the customers. There was a directness about her that seemed to upset some people. I got a hint of it one morning when she was on the phone to Heather about the delay in some supplies. Heather was often careless with this stuff and expected us to make do, but Ana was, with some charm holdingher to account. I was clear that from the side of the call I could hear that Heather was doing a lot of placating. I made a mental note not to place myself in direct opposition to Ana if I could help it.
At night this began to feed into my fantasies, now she was taking charge of me, dominating me. I imagined her calling me to kiss her between her legs, pulling my hair, telling me how she wanted it. She replaced Heather asthe one I imagined smacking my bottom.
When she was on shift with me, she would take charge, I know I am happier being led that leading. But she was warm and funny and playful and made me feel like I was her friend. She was far too young and beautiful to have any interest in me, even when she did share that she was gay. But I had my lovely fantasy life which I enjoyed every evening at home, alone.
Then summer came and Ana began cycling to work. Despite her build she had no problem wearing the Lycra like a racing cyclist. It showed off her curves, that big bottom and powerful thighs so beautifully. Her completely unselfconscious confidence only added to my admiration. Heather made so sly comments but never so Ana would hear. I just thought she was fabulous and loved her even more. I started making a point of arriving early so I would be there when she arrived, hot from the ride through town. In the evening in bed, I added the thought of her peeling down those shorts to my expanding list of fantasies.
There was a dingy shower room near the staff room area. I would loiter by the coffee machine as she would come past. She would leave the cycling kit hanging in the shower room during the day, then change when she went home.
Her shorts became a fascination for me. if she left the room door open, I could see them hanging there. I had few excuses to be in the shower room and didn’t want to have to make excuses. But it did double as the cleaners cupboard with buckets and mops in the corner. and it was this that damned me. It was towards the end of the day, there had been a spillage, my shift was nearly done but I said I would deal with it. I pulled the door too, and with no time to delay grabbed Ana’s shorts and brought their gusset to my face. They were damp and cold having hung there all day, but they smelt of her, and a put my face where her bum would have been and breathed deep.
I heard noise and quickly dropped the shorts and grabbed the bucket and mob. Ana was coming the other way, ready to get changed and head home. I don’t know if I was wearing a guilty expression, but she gave me an odd look as I scuttled the other way.
I settled myself and went to clean up the mess, storing away the experiences for my bed that night.
It took me about 10 mins to clear up and get back to the shower room. As I was returning the mop to its hook, I saw something curled up on the floor. I thought it was a cloth and bent down to pick it up. Before my hand had touched it something electric went through me, it was a pair of knickers, they could only be Ana’s knickers. Without thinking I stuffed them in my pocket.
I was trembling as I walked home, fear and arousal. I didn’t dare look at them. When I got to my flat, I went straight to the bedroom, stripped naked, placing my wooden hairbrush on the pillow. With shaking hands, I took Ana’s knickers from my pocket and spread them in front of me.
They were a simple pair of cotton knickers, light pink, I turned them inside out and gazed at the gusset and then buried my face in them, to try and catch Ana’s sweet scent. I picked up the brush and began to spank my bottom as hard as I could, imagining her looking down on me, angry and cruel. Then I rolled on my back put the knickers to my face as I rubbed my clit, hot and raw,imagining going down on her, licking and sucking her pussy. I came quickly and I came hard. Once the orgasm had left me, fear doubt and self-disgust began to set in. Until desire rose once again, and again.
I took the knickers into work with the intention of returning them from whence they came. But Ana beat me in and was already in the shower by the time I arrived. She appeared and things seemed normal, though as ever I could feel she could see into my soul. I took the knickers home and kept them as an almost religious relic.
Nothing much happened for a few weeks, then there was the staff party, where all the regions came together. I normally made excuses for these things, but Ana was keen to go and started badgering me to come. I knew that once she had the bit between her teeth she wouldn’t let go. ‘So, you don’t sneak off we can get changed here and go for a drink first’
It didn’t sound like a suggestion. I was partly thrilled though the idea of a big social event was draining.
We brought our costumes in and once the shift was over Ana went to get ready. When she emerged, she lookedgorgeous, wearing a flowing summer dress that showed off her shape, and her hair loose and flowing like I’d never seen before, the curls giving it a wonderful volume. I knew I’d look old and frumpy next to her whatever I did and allowed myself to imagine how no one would want to talk to me at the party.
I went to get changed, and straight away I noticed once again a pair of knickers balled in the corner of the room. Black this time and lacy, and obviously worn, there was still a dampness where they had reach into her crease. I put them to my face and masturbated while I ran the shower, hoping the sound would drown any cries that slipped out. I dressed quickly and put her knickers into my handbag.
Ana was waiting to go, but at the last moment she said she needed to go to the toilet. I felt nervous now, I didn’t know why, well I did but I talked myself down. When she reappeared, I thought I could detect a quizzical look, but I put that down to my imagination.
We walked to the pub. She was full of sweet energy talking about her plans, playfully nudging me about my social awkwardness. The pub was almost empty, which was fine, we took a booth in the corner, and I went to the bar. I looked back to where we’d been sitting. I couldn’t see Ana behind the walls of the booth, and something made me regret not bringing my bag. I ordered the drinks casting nervous glances back towards the booth. My palms were sweating so the cold of the glasses was a relief, deep breath and head back.
Ana’s expression nearly knocked me into next week. I cast my eyes down, she had my bag open, and her knickers were on top. My mouth went dry. With shaking hands, I put the glasses on the table. I stood there like a naughty schoolgirl wait for her to speak.
‘Don’t just fucking stand there, sit your arse down.’ Hervoice was loud and angry. She pointed to a stool and the end of the table. I realised that this placed me in clear view of the bar while she was not. I began a feeble ‘Who said you could go through my bag’ defence but her expression cut me before I could get the words out.
‘You stupid old woman, I know it was you who stole my knickers and now I have the proof, I will need to speak to HR.’ She read my thoughts. ‘You could argue that I am lying but I will make sure everyone knows, even if you keep you job everyone will know what you are like.’
‘Please what? What have you been doing with my knickers? Sniffing them? You are revolting. How creepy is that.’
‘I love you Ana, I am sorry, I wanted to be close to you.’
This seemed to give her pause for thought. I was crying now. The barman appeared to make sure everything was ok. ‘It’s fine she is just emotional at the moment.’ Ana’s voice was flat and did not encourage further discussion. I couldn’t bare to catch the man’s eye. He shrugged and walked away, though I could feel him watching us.
‘You don’t love me; you have just made up some idea about me. You don’t steal knickers from someone you really love.’
A thought crossed her mind. ‘Ok, you need to be punished.’ She gave a dark smile at my reaction. ‘There will be no party for you tonight, Instead you will go home. You will give me your address. After the party I will come to your flat. You will be waiting for me naked from the waist down in your living room facing the wall. You will leave the front door on the latch so I can get in when I arrive.’ Again, she paused. ‘I am going to the party, depending on how my fun I have I may or may not tell people about what has happened. You had better pray that I enjoy myself.’
I closed my living room curtains and stripped as Ana had instructed and then sobbed. This was both everything I had hoped for and the last thing I wanted. I was such a fool, why had I let my desires get the better of me. Was I about to lose my job, become a figure of fun and ridicule at work or at best what? One strange thing, Ana hadn’t taken her knickers back, they were still in my bag. I picked them up and put my face to them, but the odour now brought foreboding. How long would she stay at the party? I had no idea. I placed a stool in the corner to sit on and could look at my phone. My plan was that the moment I heard to door I could stand up and face the wall as instructed. I rubbed my big fat bottom that was going to sleep from being sat on that hard stool. The time ticked by slowly, minutes to hours. I tried to distract myself with my phone, but all I could do was replay what had happened and weep with self-pity. I dashed to the loo, terrified that Ana might arrive and I wouldn’t be in position.
Around 10:30 I heard a car door slam and footsteps on the walkway. I kick the stool away and jumped into position, nose in the corner, hands on head. I heard the front door open, the sound of steps, and someone click the door latch shut. I know it was Ana from her footfalls,but she said nothing, but went into the kitchen. I could hear her making a drink, but also that her breathing was heavy.
The living room door opened, my legs were shaking violently now. ‘Do not turn around until I tell you.’ The voice was hard. I could hear her organising something behind me, but I didn’t dare look.
Finally, she spoke again. ‘Turn round.’ I looked, she was sat in the armchair, on the coffee table was a phone on a tripod facing me. In front of that was my stool.
‘OK Lisa, this is what you are going to do, you are going to give a full confession of what you did to the camera, I don’t want any sordid sexual details just the facts.’
I hesitated. ‘At this point Lisa you don’t know if I have spoken to HR or not, you do not know if I have told anyone. But if you disobey any of my instructions from now on, then I can guarantee you that I will. So, speak.’
“Speak you ugly old slag.’
Through tears I told my sorry story, Ana watched but said nothing. The camera was pointed at my face so at least no one would seem my exposed bottom half, but it was still a hugely humiliating sensation.
When I had finished Ana stood up. ‘You know Lisa, we have more in common that you fully realise, but this may not be good for you in the long run.’ She sipped her coffee with an evil grin. ‘You may have been thinking about my arse and pussy, but I have been thinking of smacking that fat old bum of yours from the day we met. But this deserves way more than a smack if you know what I mean.’ I gulped hard. She stood up and reached for something she seemed to have hidden behind the sofa. I knew immediately what it was. As she stood up,she brandishes an old senior cane. One that looked like it came from an old classroom with the crooked handle. My eyes were wide and I gasped.
12 strokes Lisa across your bare bottom. Bend over the stool. Adrenalin poured through me, fear, and arousal my legs shaking but my pussy wet. This didn’t escapeher attention. ‘Oh, you like this I see, let’s see if you are still dripping like a whore in 12 strokes time.’
I had been spanked, and while I have fantasised about the cane I had never felt it before and while I’d read stories and seen pictures of people taking dozens of strokes it was very different now.
‘Hold the stool and present your bottom.’ The first stroke landed high on my bottom, a thud and then a screaming sting tore through me. My legs nearly gave way. I knew she was a strong woman and she wasn’t holding back. She made her way down my bottom, each stroke causing me to cry out, but quickly it was simply punctuation between my sobbing and pleading between strokes. ‘You deserve this, Lisa; I am beating the vileness out of you. What would people think if they could see you now?’ It was at this moment I realised she was still filming.
After 8 strokes she was now caning the backs of my thighs, if it had hut on my bum this was another level. How had I let myself get here. The final two strokes formed a big X that re-lit all the other stripes anew. At 12 I fell to my knees crying. I felt Ana’s strong hand on my arm dragging me to my feet and pushing my nose into the corner. ‘Hands on head’ she barked and gave my poor bum a hard slap with her hand. ‘Don’t move till I tell you.’
Behind I could now hear her breathing, getting ever more intense, she began to let out little mewling noises. ‘Look at you, you fat whore. What will everyone think, disgusting old bitch.’ But her arousal was nowunmistakable, and before long she reached a huge noisy orgasm. I wanted to look but I didn’t dare. My bottom was a mess of pain.
As her breathing eased, she spoke. ‘Turn around Lisa.’ Her face was a little softer now and she smiled. But my eyes were pulled to her pussy. She was sitting with her dress up, knickers off, and her legs wide apart showing off her pussy and its dripping bush.
‘You would like to taste this wouldn’t you?’ I nodded. ‘Well, you don’t deserve it yet, not tonight.’ I expected from that she was about to leave; I was going to beg her again not to tell HR. But she didn’t. Instead, she went into the bathroom and came back with a towel. She took me by the hand and led me to the kitchen and threw the towel on the floor.
‘This is your bedroom now, and don’t pretend this isn’t what you always wanted. Your pussy tells the truth even when your mouth lies. You bed is mine now. You will bring me coffee at 8:00 and then we will talk. GoodnightLisa, and welcome to the rest of your life.’
She left me standing there. All I could do was lie on my tummy on the towel and try to process what had taken place in the previous 12 hours.
At 8:00 I brought her coffee. She sat at my dresser while I stood Infront of her. The terms of our relationship were established. I was now her servant, and she had absolute authority. She had my confession and caning safely recorded and saved in case my loyalty or obedience was ever in doubt. The flat was hers now, I would be allowed to use the box room. I could only enter the bedroom with her permission. I made arrangementsfor my wages to be transferred directly to her account. With that done she smiled, ‘now I have my own bank of Mum, if not Dad.’
