Red Notice Ch. 07 – BDSM – Free Sex Story

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My stinging hand had barely had time to settle before the next red notice loomed.

Suddenly I found myself needing to blitz through emails, push apart administrative nonsense, and just generally do real work before this big, almost frightening distraction arrived. All the while, I wondered of Hannah — her weight on my lap, her quivering butt, the dark colours which swam on her cheeks — and how she’d never imagined this fate would fall on her. And all at the hands of a girl who’d have been sat in the corner, back in the day, without a friend let alone a wondered sent her way! Ha!

I found the time to do what little research I could on the two girls — the first was an Emma Zhang, student ID 38292333, a second-year student pursuing an BA in Company Studies, born on June 29, her hometown listed as the rather condescendingly broad ‘PR China.’ No previous red notices. The second was Lily Razowski, student ID 35742440 (like you care), a third-year Drama student, born on March 18, from Jedburgh — which I only learned, after a quick Google, was a tiny village in the Scottish Borders. She had a lot of previous red notices. For Emma, the justification from a Professor Hector, was that she’d lied to him about her need for an extension on coursework which had been due over the summer. Nadine, meanwhile, had explained away Lily’s red notice with the unnervingly vague “misbehaviour.” Emma was scheduled for 12.30, Lily for 3.45, and I knew I’d be watching the clock all damn day long.

So, there we had it. On my first day, which was meant to be so simple and tranquil, I’d be going back to my flat with three different girls having been draped over my lap. I was still shaking from Hannah — and now I had to do it twice more. I desperately wished I could understand more information about the two, even going so far as to consider emailing their respective professors asking for pointers, but I stopped myself. I had to be as independent as feasible — this job had been created so they need not bother themselves with this stuff.

When 12.30 rolled around there came, unlike with Hannah, a polite and on-time knock.

“Come in,” I said, still trying to keep my voice under control, but there was no answer. “Come in?” Again, no answer. I stood and went to the door; with a trembling hand, I took the handle and opened it myself. The girl on the other end, who could only have been Emma Zhang, watched me, almost curiously. She was short and curvy, with a full face and skin like porcelain, smatterings of acne on her cheeks, in a black dress dotted by red flowers which came down to her knees, her legs below that almost black with thick tights, and big brown eyes like saucers. Her straightened hair was darkest black and gathered around her shoulders, from which hung a tote bag overloaded with coloured plastic folders.

“Good morning, miss,” she said, her voice heavily accented, tripping on the first syllable of ‘miss,’ and I wondered it’d be needlessly cruel to point out it was the afternoon.

“Emma?” I asked, and she nodded, almost smiling. “Okay, well, uh, come on in,” I said, stumbling on my own words too, stepping apart so she could come past me. She came in slowly, timidly, like a deer, and stood there, the two of us almost hemmed in by the tiny office, looking around. She seemed almost perplexed.

“You won’t tell my parents, right?” she asked.

“About what?”

“About this.”

“Oh, no, I won’t,” I assured her, and she nodded, watching me. I had expected some sort of protest, as I’d gotten from Hannah, but none seemed to be forthcoming. Guilt from the last session still radiated in me, growing stronger the more I dwelled, and I half-wondered if Emma really knew what she was in for. “It says you lied to your professor?” What was I doing? I felt like, this time, I was the one delaying things. Why?

“It’s not true,” Emma said with confidence, shaking her head, pushing black hair from her face as strands swayed over her eyes. “I just sent the wrong paperwork, that’s all. Not my fault.”

“Well, how come you’ve got a red notice, then?” I asked, and Emma gave me an unsure look. I was definitely dawdling. Nadine would never do this — she’d be straight to company and she’d expect the same of me. “It’s your second mark, right? You need two to get a red notice.”

“Well, yeah,” replied Emma, fidgeting with her feet, “I just need extensions sometimes.”

“So you’ve done this before.”

“Yes, miss,” she said, quietly, looking at me with those big, brown eyes, so big I need only lean in a little closer and I’d see my reflection. She’d probably get the wrong idea, if I did. “Who will be punishing me, miss?”

“Oh, that’s me,” I said blankly, and Emma stared at me.

“Oh.” I could tell she was making an effort not to look me up and down. “You don’t look like…”

“Like what?” She shook her head.

“Nothing, miss.” I knew what she wanted to say — she wasn’t wrong. I didn’t feel much like it, either. “So… how do we do this?”

“Well…” I remembered Hannah. “Why don’t you tell me how you think it works?” That, I realised, was gonna become my go-to. The sense that built-up experience would, slowly, edge me towards improvement heartened me a little, but it did nothing for my sweating palms or pounding chest, a feeling which was building up towards my throat. Emma wet her lips, looking around the little room.

“Um… I dunno.”

“You don’t know?” She shook her head and worry seeped into me. “But you had to agree to this stuff to be at the academy, right? You must have seen it.”

“Oh, my parents did all the application stuff,” said Emma, and my stomach fell entirely out of my body.

“Oh.” She nodded and I realised, with a breaking heart, that I’d have to explain it to her. But was my heart breaking for her — or for myself? “If you get a red notice, it means, like…” I wanted to swallow — but that would make my nerves a bit too obvious. Just ride it out. “…corporal punishment.”

“Yes, miss.”

“And you know what that is.”

“Yes — like… you hit my hand with a ruler or something, right?”

“Ah.” Wow, the guilt was gonna feel so bad after this. So why, exactly, was excitement building inside me? “Not exactly.”

“No?” Emma looked at me suspiciously.

“A red notice means that I have to…” I swallowed. Well, it was bound to happen. “…spank you.” Emma’s eyes widened — her lips partied, just a tad, and she inhaled sharply.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah.”

“You mean, like…” Her hands moved, perhaps almost subconsciously, behind herself, to hold her rear protectively. “…on my butt?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” She looked around the room again, perhaps for a cane or a paddle, but, probably to both of our advantages, I didn’t have any of that. “Do you absolutely have to?”

“It’s the rules.” Now she swallowed. “It’ll be over before you know it.” Had I said that before, too?

“Yes, miss,” Emma mumbled, and I saw that her eyes glisten, growing damp. My excitement built — it was a strange, twisting kind of contradiction in my chest, for this to tangle with the guilt, darkness against light, tussling and turning and not quite knowing which one was ever entirely in control.

“So, shall we get it over with?” I asked, and she stared at me for what felt like an aeon, as I wondered about her plump figure under that dress and what might be hidden underneath and the excitement built at the guilt’s expense. It’d be back — I was sure. “Emma?”

“Yes,” she said finally, breathlessly. “Yes, quickly, please.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna sit on the sofa, then you just lie over my lap, alright?” She nodded vigorously and I wondered back to what Kam had warned me about — at least, so far, I hadn’t received any fighters. But, then again, it was still day one, and Emma was just girl two.

Quick as I could, I sent between the desk and wall and to the sofa, sitting in the middle, almost patting my thighs encouragingly, with Emma watching me and gripping the hem of her dress.

“My parents never told me,” she mumbled.

“Sorry,” was all I managed to get out and, sheepishly, she stepped towards me, letting her tote bag fall from her shoulder and resting it against the desk.

“Do I have to take off my panties?” she mumbled — now the guilt, quite suddenly, was in the ascendency.

“No,” I said, so fast I almost spat it out. “It’ll be alright.” She nodded and climbed onto the sofa by her knees, and lay over my lap as instructed. She positioned herself awkwardly, her stomach on my lap, so I’d have to stretch a bit to reach her rear. I wanted to tell her to shift, so her butt would be right in front of me, but I couldn’t get the words out. Nerves held them back. In a strange way, it had felt easier with Hannah. I rested a hand on her back and, tentatively, over her shapely rear, cupping her furthest cheek, testing the waters, her dress thin enough to let me feel its firmness. Emma, her arms tightly crossed under her chin, just like Hannah, didn’t respond beyond the softest murmur.

I decided it wouldn’t be fair to do as I’d done before and ask Emma to tell me what was about to happen — she’d been obedient enough already, and I’d only be tormenting her. It was this feeling, also, which fought away my urges to lift up her dress. Sensing that I’d feel particularly dreadful the moment Emma was back out the door, I’d treat her as kindly as I could. ” This time,” said a voice which wasn’t mine. ” But if she ever comes back here — then she’ll get a proper punishment.”

Without another word, I lifted my hand from Emma’s butt, then brought it back down, open-palmed. The smack was muffled by her dress, and Emma squeaked in surprise, her arms unfolding quickly and gripping the cushion below her, as I continued, alternating between cheeks, having to stretch as I’d anticipated to reach her. With each spank, her dress’ hem jumped, as Emma increasingly tensed up, her firm butt eliciting a pleasant smack with each hit. I thought how it felt compared to Hannah, who’d had just the thin fabric of her underwear for protection, versus Emma, who had her dress, fairly thick tights, and whatever underwear she was wearing. I wanted to know what was under there, of course — but I wanted to avoid being cruel a lot more. It hardly seemed fair on Hannah that she had to go through far worse — I needed to find out a consistent approach. If word got round that favouritism abounded in this office, it wouldn’t make me look good.

“Ow,” Emma mumbled after around ten or so smacks, her hands reaching back to rub at her rear, and I let her. “Are we done?”

“Not yet,” I said, and Emma mumbled in annoyance, her hands finally leaving to go back to the cushion.

“How much longer?”

“As long as it takes,” I replied, gritting my teeth, feeling her warm body tremble on my lap.

“Yes, miss,” she said, almost whimpered, and I started up again, once more alternating, her cheeks feeling harder as they clenched and Emma pressed her legs together, the smacking sounds becoming sharper as a result. Eventually, my pinkish hand stinging, I stopped, and looked down at Emma, whose face was obscured by hair which had come to pour over her. She whimpered quietly to herself.

“Okay,” I said, “we’re done.” Emma didn’t move, not at all, for a few moments, before slowly pushing herself up and clambering off the sofa, at once reaching for and holding her rear, her knees trembling.

“Thank you, miss,” she said quietly, her voice shaky, her eyes watering. “I’m sorry for getting a red notice. I won’t do it again.”

“I hope not,” said someone who wasn’t me, that voice I’d heard before, “otherwise things could get really bad for you.” Fear flashed through Emma’s face.

“Yes, miss,” she said quickly, nodding, as I stood. She picked up her bag and, without a word, hurried from the office — as she did, I realised I’d forgotten to have her lock the door.

Sitting back in my chair, I clicked on Emma’s box on the Excel workbook and turned it from red to green. My hand hurt, still, to the point where I half-considered using my left hand for the mouse. I still had Lily Razowski left this afternoon but, with the adrenaline and excitement fading from my chest now Emma was gone, I felt deathly hungry and was more just looking forward to lunch. Kam and I had a fair bit to discuss.

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