He crooked his finger, and the tall, brassy, bottle blonde stepped nervously forward, her usually cynical expression replaced by fear and doubt.

"Skirt up higher, around your hips. Let's have a good look at that pussy of yours. Open your legs wide, show me what you've got."

Unable to suppress a little whine in her throat, Sandra lifted her skirt and showed a full dark brown bush. She parted her legs as far as the tight skirt would allow while Norman examined her undefended vagina, probing his fingers in and out as she panted for control.

He withdrew, seeing the tears forming in her eyes.

'There'll be a lot more of those before I'm finished.' he thought to himself, then told her to bend and grip her ankles.

Having no choice, she bent forward, letting go of her skirt and gripping her ankles. She was sniffing now, under no illusion but that Norman was going to hit her with the crop, and hit her hard.

She didn't like pain!

Although that's not quite true.

Sandra liked inflicting it. It was receiving it she didn't like.

Norman noticed her knees trembling as he walked around her, running his hand over more of the previously forbidden territory. Her buttocks.

Always blindfolded to perform his 'duties' he had never been allowed to see the pussy he was forced to lick and satisfy.

He grasped Sandra's buttocks and roughly pulled them apart, eliciting a quick squeal of protest which made him smile grimly.

"Your turn now, bitch!" he muttered. Then snapped "Keep Still!"

He smacked down hard with one hand to emphasis his message, then casually parted her labia and probed with a couple of fingers. She whined again, but didn't want another slap, so held her position.

The other two were staring open mouthed at the new Norman, dangerously out of control.

"How dare you!" snapped Carole, in a weak attempt at restoring the situation.

Norman looked at her. He tapped the document, beside him on the desk.

"You were the ring leader. I think I'll give you twenty five. With an extra five for every time you open that foul mouth of yours!"

Carole visibly slumped, her last attempt at protest having failed hopelessly.

Norman stepped back and swung the crop.

THWACK!

A yowl of pain escaped Sandra's mouth, and she danced, reaching behind with both hands to comfort her suddenly blazing bum.

"So, that will be two extra, one for each hand! Don't move them again!"

"Oh no, oh no, please Norman, I'm sorry, I never meant it. I never did. They made me. Please Norman"

Sandra's tearful tirade petered out under his baleful stare.

"Please" she mumbled quietly, knowing it was pointless.

"Grab your ankles! Shut up and keep still!"

She moaned and bent back into position.

"So, we start again. I'm running out of time, so we will go straight through now. Twenty two strokes without a break. Do Not Move!"

Again the crop whipped down and a livid red line materialised across Sandra's hitherto unspanked bum.

She yelped and yowled as the strokes fell, her cries reaching an ever higher pitch as the punishment progressed. After fifteen she was openly crying, sobbing out pleas for mercy, utterly disregarded by Norman.

His feeling of powerful revenge was swelling inside him and making him feel more assertive and Masterful than he had ever felt in his life.

He delivered Sandra's last stroke and stepped back.