Writer's Block

“Breanne?  Can you come in here for a moment?”  Mr. Alexander called out from his office.
    The red-haired beauty stood up; pushing back the office chair she had been sitting in.  A quick pass over her skirt and a wiggle of her shoulders resettled her suit coat and smoothed out the wrinkles and she quickly made her way into her boss’ office.  A large bookcase filled with reading material lined the wall behind his desk while a solid oak behemoth stood in the center of the room.  A thin LCD computer screen was turned toward the man who sat in the center chair, his hair slightly unruly as he studied the screen.
    “Yes sir?  You wanted to see me?”  She asked.
    He nodded.  “Absolutely.  I’m writing the next scene for “The Trip” and I’m stuck.  I don’t know what punishments to inflict upon you.”
    Breanne pressed her lips together.  Talk about an uncomfortable subject.  She knew he had been writing the story, but usually she just read the script at the end.  She usually wasn’t involved during the creative process.
    “I see” she responded, clearly unsure as to what he needed.  “And how can I help you?” she asked.
    Mr. Alexander shrugged.  “Give me some punishment ideas” he ordered.  Breanne swallowed, her mind racing.  This was like walking a tight rope.  What ever she suggested she would soon be actually doing, so she needed to keep things in the “viable” range.
    “Sexual punishment or corporal punishment, sir?” she asked.  There was a difference.  He gave her an amused look.
    “Sexual of course.  If I wanted to hurt you I’d just have you bend over and spank the daylights out of you.”
    Breanne grimaced.  “I’ve never understood that term.  How do you spank the daylights out of someone?”
    “You’ve got ten seconds to come up with a decent punishment or you’re going to find out in a moment” he replied.
    Bre’s eyes widened in alarm, her mind racing.  “Um…orgasm denial?”  She ventured.
    He rolled his eyes.  “Give me a break.  That is so overdone.”
    She bit her lip as he held up one, then a second finger.
    “How about a pussy whipping?”  She said next, clearly concerned about her time limit.
    “Yeah, like that will be something new and fresh for our readers.”  His scoffing tone was all the answer she needed.  A third and fourth finger joined the other too and Breanne shifted in her seat.
    “Clothespins?” 
    “Are you only going to suggest things that have already been done to you in past stories or are you going to come up with something new?”  The fifth finger on one hand rose and he brought his other hand up, one finger raised.
    Her mind churned through everything she had ever done, trying desperately to find something new.  The seventh and eighth fingers rose and she clenched her fists.
    “Uh…how about an ice dildo!”  She said, trying to stall.  He clicked his tongue.
    “Done to you in “Heart of Ice.”  He lifted his ninth finger.
    “Wait!  Uh…how about some sort of clit torture?”  She asked.
    He gave her a curious look.  “Like what?”
    Her mind went blank and she opened her mouth like a landed fish.
    “That’s what I thought. Okay, skirt off and over the desk.  Time to find out how many swings it takes to beat the daylights out of your ass.”  Mr. Alexander said.

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    Breanne whimpered but obediently stood.  Her thumbs slipped into the waist of her skirt and she pushed it down.  Her white garter belt was the only thing under the business attire and she stepped out of the skirt, the long white stockings going up to her thigh.  She wasn’t wearing panties and the slightly wet slit between her legs was completely in view.
    She unbuttoned her suit coat, knowing that spankings at Michael Alexander Productions were ALWAYS delivered bare bottomed and bare breasted.  It was a rule.  The coat opened and her curved bosom was immediately displayed.  Her perky nipples hardened in the air and she moved to his desk, laying across it as he opened a drawer and extracted a paddle.
    “Sir?  How about ginger root?” She asked, hoping for mercy.
    “Hmmm…not a bad idea.   I might use that.”  He replied as he stood, moving around to the side of the desk to get in position.
    The impending stroke created a flurry of ideas.  “And how about ice in the bottom?  And you could also do chopstick clamps on the clit and nipples.  You could also put a paperclip on my clit and nipples and take a nine volt battery and shock me.”
    The first stroke landed with a painful smack and she gasped as her bottom exploded in agony.  She hissed, fingers curling on the desk and she rocked forward with the impact.
    “Keep going.”  He replied.
    “You could make me get in uncomfortable positions, or bend funny and fuck me silly, or with objects.”  She said, her voice tight from the still fiery heat of her bottom.  It didn’t matter.  He hit her again, the paddle landing across both butt cheeks with equal precision.
    She let out another whimper, her chest heaving.  “Heating rub!  Clamps!  A wooden pony!  Oh please!”
    He let loose a flurry of strokes that blistered her rear end until it was bright red, her body heaving from the burning agony that had once been her butt.  Tears dripped on the desk and she shook, her chest heaving as the nipples swung back and forth, grazing the smooth oak.
    Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more he stopped.  The paddle went back into the drawer and he extracted one of the vibrating bullet toys, a smooth plastic egg-shaped vibrator that disappeared into her pussy almost immediately.  He set the wireless control to high and patted her softly on the rear.
    “That stays on high until you bring a list of ten tortures you NEVER want done to you, right here, into my office.  Got it?”  He ordered.
    Breanne picked herself off the desk, her body trembling.  Her breasts swung in front of his eyes and she nodded.  She made no effort to retrieve her skirt, but left the office half naked, her entire body still exposed.  She went immediately to her desk and took out a pen and paper.  Across the top she quickly wrote a few words, eyeing them when she was done.
    “Tortures I Don’t Want Done To Me” it said.  She made a face, her voice muttering.  There weren’t any tortures she didn’t want done to her.  She winced as she shifted in her seat and sighed.