Suzie's Lessons

Suzie’s Lessons

by Ashley B. D. Zacharias

It was a day like any other. Rob was sitting in front of his computer, typing up a storm, when a strange woman walked into his office. He was not good at guessing women’s ages. If forced, he would have said that she was about thirty. Maybe thirty-five. Probably not late twenties, but he could be wrong about that. Like I said, he was not good at women’s ages. But he was good at predicting their reaction to him because it was always the same. Invariably they looked at his rumpled clothes and unkempt hair, rolled their eyes, dismissed him as a nerd, and walked away. Then, before long, maybe in a day or two, maybe not for a few weeks, they’d come back and ask him to fix their computer.

His response was equally invariant. He would always agree to help and spend an hour with their computer, correcting the problem, hoping that the woman would be impressed with his knowledge and skill. Not that he normally had to call on much knowledge or skill. Nine times out of ten, the problem was something that they had caused and something that they could have fixed almost as quickly as he if they’d only read the fucking manual. But they would never sully themselves by deigning to read a manual. That was beneath their dignity. Nor would they stay and watch how he fixed their computer – that was too boring – nor would they listen to his explanation about how to avoid the problem next time – he was too boring. Instead, they’d gush a quick thanks and send him away, not thinking of him again until the next time they screwed up their computer. Chivalrous nerd errants garnered few real rewards in this world beyond quick. empty words of insincere gratitude as the no-longer-distressed damsels showed him the door. It was not surprising that Rob's social skills tended to be perfunctory. He had little opportunity to practice so he gave back what he received.

This woman currently darkening his doorway looked distressed. That was no surprise; every woman who came to his office was distressed about their computer and they all believed that Rob would be more likely to help them if he could see their distress on their faces. They were probably right.

When this woman spoke, she said about the same thing as the last dozen women who had come to his office. “I have a problem. I need your help.”

“What’s wrong with your computer?” he asked with a sigh.

She looked at him oddly and said, “My computer? Nothing. As near as I know, my computer’s fine. That’s not the kind of help that I need.”

“Oh.” That was different. “What kind of help do you need?”

The woman blushed. That, too, was different. No woman had ever blushed in his presence before. “This is kind of embarrassing.” She paused for a moment then said in a rush, “I need you to remove my bra.”

“What?” He could not believe that she had said what he had heard.

She spoke more slowly. “I need you to take my bra off for me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What word don’t you understand?” she asked in frustration. “Bra or remove? A bra is a piece of underwear that a woman wears on her chest to support her breasts. Removing it requires unfastening it at the back.”

“I know that,” Rob snapped back. He interpreted her sarcasm as implying that he had never removed a woman's bra before and was embarrassed that, in fact, he never had. But, if given the opportunity, he was sure that he could figure out how it was done.

At this point, I should tell you a couple of basic facts about Rob. He’s a young man, a month shy of his twenty-second birthday, who had just begun his master’s degree in computer science. He was not ugly but no one would call him handsome, either, especially when they saw him in his usual stained and rumpled attire. Even if he cleaned himself up properly, he would still look quite average. That did not bother him, though. His main obstacle to happiness was that he had almost no social life. He liked people and would have liked to hang around them more, but had no idea how to relate to other human beings. Not all computer geeks are nerds, but some are and the nerd stereotype could have been based on Rob. Up to his point in his life, he had never had a real date. I was probably the only woman that  had any kind of friendship with him and that was pretty much limited to a few dinners with groups of students in the computer science program. I was more likely to talk to him in an internet chat sessions than in real space. I let him be one of my FaceBook and Twitter friends mostly out of sympathy. The only thing that was really wrong with Rob was that he was relentlessly boring. He could speak about little apart from computers. He never read books or newspapers, watched little television, and didn’t know one end of a football from the other. Worse, when he started talking about computers, he was excruciatingly pedantic, especially if he was speaking to a women. In order to get him to fix their computers, they acted like helpless children when they spoke to him so he treated them as though they were children; which annoyed them.

This woman, though, acted quite differently than most. Rob as flabbergasted when she closed his office door and then began unbuttoning her top. She was wearing a shapeless heavy plaid flannel shirt. It was probably the least sexy clothing that any woman had ever worn. Though her breasts which were large enough to make their presence known no matter what clothing she chose to wear, the shirt completely hid the details of her shape. Despite the unsexy choice of shirt, the fact that she was voluntarily stripping it off in the privacy of his office instantly made the plaid flannel shirt the most sensual piece of clothing that he had ever seen on a woman. He might well spend the next decade fantasizing about plaid flannel.

As the buttons were released, one by one, the flannel began to gape open, revealing shiny black leather cups on either side of the woman’s lovely milky cleavage. When the final button was released, the woman reached up to pull the shirt off her shoulders, a movement that thrust her full breasts forward hard into the stiff cups. She could not suppress a gasp, then she moaned softly as she lowered her arms and relaxed her shoulders.

Rob had never heard such an erotic sound in his life. This was the stuff of his fantasies.

“Why do you need me to help you? Why don’t you take your own bra off?” he asked.

“I can’t,” she replied and turned her back to him.

He was astounded to see that, instead of a simple hook and loop clasp, the bra was fastened with a small black in-line combination lock, exactly like his bicycle lock. Most likely someone had made this bra by taking a bicycle lock apart and re-riveting the lock to the reinforced bra straps. Now he understood why the woman had been wearing the oversized flannel shirt; the lock would have made a noticeable bulge if she had been wearing a lighter blouse. As well, he could see that the geometry of the straps in the back made it impossible to remove the bra until the lock was unfastened. The shoulder straps converged just below the nape of her neck to form a single strap that came down her spine to split again right above the lock, where it was attached to the cross strap at either side of the lock by loops. The cross strap could only be pulled from the loops if the lock was unfastened. Furthermore, the cross strap curved upward to put the lock in the upper part of her back where it would be difficult for her to reach. It was a fiendish design.

“Do you know the combination?” he asked.

“Yes, but I can’t see to work it. I tried using a mirror, but the numbers are too small and I can’t get close enough.”

Rob could see what she meant. The numbers on his bicycle lock were painted white to stand out against the black rings. On this lock they had been repainted black so that they did no longer contrasted with the background. You had to get quite close to the lock to read the numbers.

She explained further, “Besides, I can barely reach it. I can force my arms up there briefly, but I can’t hold them there for long enough to try all combinations. That’s why I have no choice but to get someone to release it. Please unlock it for me. The combination is five eight six nine.”

“Five eight six nine?”

“That’s right. That’s the combination. Five eight six nine.”

“Five eight six nine.” Rob wrote the numbers on a piece of paper. He noted that all the numbers had a similar shape that would make it even more difficult to read the right combination unless your eyes were within a couple of inches of the lock. The woman’s predicament puzzled him and, when he was puzzled by anything, Rob automatically shifted into problem-solving mode. Rob’s insistence on being methodical was one of the characteristics that made him so boring but which made him so good at debugging computer programs. The first step in solving any problem is to gather as much information as possible; a process that can be long and tedious, but is critical for success.

“Why is your bra locked on?” he asked.

“It’s a punishment bra. It’s locked on so that I can’t remove it myself no matter how much it hurts.”

“Does it hurt to wear it?” Rob didn’t know much about bras but he did know that they weren’t supposed to hurt, even when a woman wore one all day.

“Yes. It hurts like hell. Please take it off now.”

“In a minute,” he said absentmindedly then continued, “Why does it hurt?”

“Because the inside of the cups have thumbtacks glued to them and they are poking me.”

“You mean that you are bleeding inside your bra?”

“No. It won’t be gross when you take it off. Thumbtacks aren’t that sharp. They just press hard little points against me. When I move, the points rub against my skin, irritating it and making me a little bit raw where they're digging in. The longer I wear this thing and the more I move, the more it hurts. Right now it hurts every time I breathe. It even hurts to talk to you. That's why you have to unlock it now.”

“How many tacks are glued inside it?” Rob stepped around and looked at the cups. Now that she mentioned the tacks, he could see little bumps on the outside of the cups where the heads were pressing against the leather on the inside. There were bumps all over the surface.

“I don’t know. Lots. They’re all over, glued as close together as possible. There must be a hundred of them.”

“That must hurt a lot,” he commented.

“It sure as hell does. Especially on the bottom of the cups where the full weight of my breasts are supported by them. And around the nipples, of course. Nipples are sensitive and the points are positioned so that they stick right into them. Please unlock it now.”

“Soon. I promise. But first, I need to know a few things. How long have you been wearing it?”

“Since I got dressed this morning. About six hours. I can’t stand to have it on any longer.”

“Sure you can. If you’ve been wearing it for six hours then a few more minutes won’t make much difference.”

“It makes a difference. Believe me. Right now every minute makes a difference.”

“Who locked it on you?” He wondered if he would make anyone angry by releasing her.

“Me. I put it on myself.”

“You put it on yourself?” Rob couldn’t believe what she said.

“Yes. That’s what I said. I put it on myself. It’s not easy to reach the lock but I can manage to fit it together and spin the dials if I stretch.”

“Who made you do that?”

“Nobody made me do it. I did it to myself.”

“Why?”

“To punish myself. It’s a punishment bra. The only reason that any woman would put at thing like this on herself would be to punish herself. And now I’ve been punished enough so I need someone to take it off.”

“Why did you pick me to take it off?”

“Why not you? I just walked around until I saw someone in an office who looked like he would be nice and helpful. That’s you. Your building is at the edge of the campus, so I didn’t have to walk so far.” The woman looked over her shoulder at Rob. “Are you going to unlock it?”

“Do you work at the university?”

“No. I work in an office tower a couple of blocks from here. I put in some overtime today because I can dress like this instead of wearing my usual business suit.”

“Why didn’t you ask someone where you work to unlock you?”

“I’m not going to let anyone that I work with know that I’d wear a thing like this.” She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Unlock it now, please. Five eight six nine.”

“In a minute. Just be patient. I’ve got to do something first and then I’ll be right with you.” The first step in solving a problem is to gather information. The second step is to consult an expert. He sat at his computer and began typing furiously. That’s where I come in to the picture. He opened a chat connection to me and typed a quick description of what had transpired. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. A woman had come into Rob’s office wearing a tack-lined bra? She claimed to have locked it onto herself? And she had chosen Rob to unlock it for her? Was she insane? At first I thought that Rob was telling me some fantasy that he was having, but he assured me that it was really happening and he needed advice.

I typed back, “Don’t do anything hasty. There’re a lot of possibilities here. Ask her what she did that to deserve to be punished.”

A minute later, he typed back, “She won’t tell me. She said that if I don’t unlock her right now, she’s going to leave and find someone else to help her.”

I didn’t want that to happen. Rob deserves some fun and this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It was a good thing that he got in touch with me because he’d never figure out how to exploit the situation properly. “Tell her that you’re going to unlock her in a few minutes but you have to do some stuff first. Tell her to be patient because she’ll get unlocked faster if she waits to let you do it than if she has to go out and find someone else and explain herself all over again.”

There was a pause then he typed back, “Ok. I did that.”

I thought for a minute, then got an idea. I typed, “Now, ask her to turn around. When she isn’t looking, you grab her shirt and hide it. Do it quietly so that she doesn’t know where you put it. You can unlock her after you’ve secured her blouse. But don’t give the the blouse back until you’ve talked to me again.” I’ve known Rob for several years and I know that he’s a pushover when it comes to women. I thought that he’d need my guidance to keep the upper hand. I didn’t know that he’d immediately understood the implications of taking the woman’s shirt hostage and was already executing my plan even better than I anticipated.

Rob told the woman, “Turn around and clasp your hands behind your neck.”

She looked at him. “That’s going to hurt. Raising my hands like that is going to push my breasts against the tacks.”

He shrugged. “You’re hurting now. It’ll only take a few seconds to unlock your bra and then you’ll be free.”

The woman laid her shirt across the back of a nearby chair, turned and raised her hands to clasp them behind her neck. She moaned loudly as she assumed the position. “Hurry. This hurts like hell.”

“Okay.” Rob could do better than to merely hide the blouse, he carried it to his desk, threw it into a drawer and locked it.

“What are you doing?” the woman whimpered. The tacks were punishing her severely now. She asked because she could not see him when she was facing away and holding her head straight with her hands clasped behind her neck.

“Getting the combination,” he replied. “I wrote it down.”

“Five eight six nine,” the woman hissed. “You just had to ask.”

“Oh, right.” Rob put his face close to the lock and turned the rings to their proper position. His fingers tingled where the brushed against the soft skin on the woman’s back. He had never touched a woman as intimately as this before.

The spindle slipped out of the lock and the ends of the bra strap came apart, slipping out of the loops at the end of the shoulder strap. The woman lowered her hands and gingerly pulled the cups off her breasts, whimpering softly as the points of the tacks scraped against her tender flesh.

She did not turn around until she had raised her hands to cover her breasts, shielding her modesty from Rob’s sight. The bra dangled from her right hand.

He said, “I’d like to see that,” and took the bra in his hand. She relaxed her fingers enough to let him take it from her.

The leather cups were stiffer than he anticipated. Mostly because, as she had said, there were dozens of thumbtacks glued to the inside of each cup, probably with a good strong epoxy. They were packed so densely that  almost no leather could be seen between the broad heads. While he was examining the torture device, she was scanning the room, looking for her shirt. She wanted to cover herself and saw that it was not lying across the back of the chair where she had put it.

“Where’s my shirt?”

“Umm. It’s safe. Don’t worry. I haven’t lost it.”

“Give it to me.”

“Soon. Not right now. We’ve got some things to discuss first.”

“Give my shirt to me right now,” she snapped in irritation, trying unsuccessfully to keep her fear from showing.

“Or what? You can leave if you want.”

She looked down at her hands covering her naked breasts. “I can’t leave like this.”

“I guess not.” He held the bra out to her. “You could put this back on. It’s not like real underwear. It’s more like a leather bikini top. Kind of kinky looking, but it covers enough that they can’t arrest you for walking around in it.”

She looked at her punishment bra. She couldn’t walk out wearing only the bra. Someone that she knew might see her on the street. And even if nobody saw her, her breasts were already so sore that she didn’t think that she could stand to press them back into those spiked cups. But worst of all, the only way that she would be able to keep the bra in place would be to re-lock it and then she’d be right back where she started, looking for someone to unlock it for her. “I can’t do that.”

“I can certainly see why you wouldn’t want to lock this thing back on yourself.” He smiled his best evil smile. “Don’t look so horrified. You’re going to get out of this all right. It’s just going to take a little cooperation. I did you a favor by unlocking this. Now, I’d like a favor in return.”

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“Nothing much. I’d like to see your breasts. You may not believe this, but I’ve never seen a woman’s naked breasts before. Except in movies. I’d like to see real breasts. Okay?”

With obvious reluctance, the woman lowered her hands to her waists.

“You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen,” Rob said spontaneously.

Thought she was humiliated by being forced to expose herself to this young man, at the same time, his appreciation of her beauty was so obviously heartfelt and sincere that she felt flattered. “Thank-you.”

He leaned close to examine her flesh. “I assume that they aren’t normally so bumpy and mottled.”

“No,” she replied. “That’s what the points of the thumbtacks did to them. They’ll get smooth in a few minutes. It may take a little longer for the redness to fade.”

“May I touch them?”

She sighed. What choice did she have? “If you’re gentle. They’re awfully tender right now.”

He stroked her with the lightest of caresses. “You're perfect.”

“Thank you. May I have my shirt back now?”

“In a minute. I have something to do first,” he replied and returned to his keyboard.

After filling me in with what had transpired, I was encouraged. Making her clasp her hands behind her neck and locking the blouse up in his drawer were good moves. There was hope for Rob yet. The question was how to leverage his slim advantage into something more effective. Right now he and the woman were in a standoff. She didn’t want to expose herself to public ridicule but, if he tried to push her too hard, she might have him arrested for sexual assault and suffer the humiliation. All she had to do was start screaming for help and claim that he’d attacked her. I worried about that. A woman who locked a tack-lined bra onto herself and then asked a strange man to remove it for her couldn’t be all that mentally stable. “Tell her that you need to know what she did to deserve this punishment before you can give her shirt back. Tell her that a necessary part of any punishment is the confession.” I thought that maybe he could exploit her obvious need to punish herself and get more useful information from her. It turned out that I was right. I added one more instruction for Rob. “Mute your speakers and turn Skype on. Try to get the microphone close enough to the woman so that I can hear what she says.”

Rob understood confession. He had been a good Catholic before he abandoned his faith halfway through high school. He moved his visitor chair in front of his desk but turned it so that it was facing away from where he would sit. “Sit here for a minute,” he told the woman. She did not bother trying to hide her bountiful breasts any longer. She kept her hands by her sides as she sat in the chair. He handed the punishment bra to her before returning to his own chair behind his desk.

As I instructed, he muted his speakers, rang me on Skype, and then pushed the headset forward so that the microphone was right behind her head. I could hear every word perfectly.

He spoke to the back of her head. “You have punished yourself today because you did something wrong. You have punished yourself and deserve forgiveness but you cannot be forgiven until you have confessed your transgression. You don’t know me and will likely never see me again so I am the perfect person to hear your confession and forgive you. Tell me what you did that merited this punishment. Just start your story at the beginning.”

She looked down at the bra in her hands and thought about the pain it had caused her throughout the day. Then she began speaking, slowly and quietly. “You have to understand my relationship with my boyfriend. I was married to an abusive man named Paul for six years. Paul didn't hurt me physically, he was terribly psychologically abusive. He had grown cold and unloving shortly after we got married and stayed that way for most the the time that we were together. After putting up with a loveless marriage for five years, I met Andy. His company was one of our clients and I was assigned to work with him a year ago. When I first met him, I thought that he was completely different from Paul and liked him for that. After I finished his project and delivered the final report, I kept seeing him as a friend. We’d go out for lunch together and talk about all kinds of things. It was great. After a while, I began to fall in love with him. One day I invited him to come to my house so that I could cook him lunch instead of going out. I never got around to cooking anything that day. As soon as he came inside, I kissed him and he kissed me back so I kissed him again, long and deep. Then I dragged him into the bedroom, ripped his clothes off and had my way with him. Twice. I hadn’t been having much sex with my husband and it was such a relief to have a passionate man in my bed again, that I couldn’t stop myself.”

“And that’s why you’re punishing yourself now? For cheating on your husband?”

I cringed when I heard Rob say that. I was thinking the same thing, but I was afraid that he was going to blow the whole confession by interrupting the woman. I needn’t have worried. Now that this woman had begun spilling her guts, nothing was going to stop her.

“Oh, heavens, no. That was all Paul’s fault. If he’d cared more about me, I never would have cheated on him. He deserved to be punished for our marriage, not me. The only thing that I did wrong there was marrying him in the first place. I had my doubts before the wedding but I married him anyway. And I gave him a good five years of my life. I don’t owe him anything more. No, it was later that I came to deserve to be punished.” The woman fingered the bra, caressing the points inside the cup with light strokes for a minute, then began speaking again. “As my love affair with Andy grew more intense, it began to consume more of my time and attention. Soon it became impossible to sustain my marriage. One day I went to a lawyer instead of going to work and arranged for him to serve Paul with divorce papers. He was shocked. He was so inattentive to me that he never realized that our marriage was nothing but a hollow shell. He begged and pleaded for a second chance. He even cried. But it was too late. My heart was with Andy by then. It didn't take long to complete the divorce and I got the house in the settlement. That wasn’t as big a deal as it sounds because it had a pretty big mortgage on it and Paul's alimony checks don't even cover the monthly payments. But, at least I didn’t have to move out. Instead, Andy moved in.”

“And that’s why you’re punishing yourself now. Because you treated Paul so badly in the divorce?”

“Of course not. He’s a big boy. He can suck it up like a man and roll with the punches. After what he put me through, I never spent a minute feeling sorry for him.” She paused. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. Andy moved into the house. It was great for a while, but he turned out to be more like Paul than I realized. He spent a lot of time at work just like Paul. And he wasn’t as much fun at home as he had been when we were dating. Our lovemaking became routine and I didn’t enjoy it much so we pretty much stopped doing it within a few weeks. Besides, he never proposed to me. I tried to get him to propose. When I brought the subject up, he said that he didn’t want to be married. Even when I told him that I was pregnant, he didn’t propose. He just said that he’d help me get an abortion.”

“And that’s it? You’re punishing yourself for getting an abortion?”

“No, silly. I wasn’t really pregnant. I just wanted to see what he’d say. It was easy to do because we weren’t making love enough for him to know when I got my period. After a month passed and he still didn’t propose, I told him that I miscarried. He had the nerve to tell me how sorry he was about the miscarriage. The bastard. He was all fine with the idea of an abortion but a miscarriage broke him up. After that, it was all over but the crying. A couple of weeks ago he went on a business trip, so I changed the locks and put all of his stuff in boxes on the front porch along with a note saying that I didn’t want to see him any more. He got the hint. I haven’t seen him since. Just for good measure, I got a restraining order against him. I told him about that in the note, too. Paul was such a weakling, I knew he wouldn’t do anything, but I wasn’t so sure about Andy so I thought that it’d be better to be safe than sorry. You know. To get the order, I had to tell the police that he’d been physically abusive sometimes but that was no biggie. It’s not like I had him arrested or anything.”

“And that’s it? You’re punishing yourself because of the way that you booted Andy out? Lying to the police and all? When you could have giving him a chance to reform?”

Rob didn’t get it, but I understood the woman perfectly. Her husband had been too kind, too gentle with her, and she had felt nothing but contempt for him. She needed a bad boy and had thought that she had found one in her lover. Instead, when he had turned out to be a good guy, too, apart from having an affair with a married woman, she dumped his ass. I understood perfectly how she wanted to be treated and would make damn sure that Rob treated her exactly the way that she wanted.

“No. He got all the chances that he needed to reform during the year that we were together. When it’s over, it’s over. There are no second chances. That’s my creed and I stick to it. No, I’m just telling you all this so that you’ll understand how much emotional turmoil I’ve been through over the past few years. That’s why I gained the weight.”

“The weight?”

“Yeah. You can see how fat and sloppy I am.”

The woman was anything but fat. She looked perfectly normal to Rob so he said so. “You don’t look fat to me. You look fine.”

The woman didn’t look back at him. She pushed against the bottom of one of her breasts to plump it up. “I’m gross. I gained twelve pounds in three weeks. These jeans fit perfectly the last time I wore them and now my ass is almost bursting out of them. When I gained ten pounds, I made the bra. I’m pretty handy and it was easy enough to buy the basic leather bra and add the thumbtacks and lock. The trickiest part was modifying the leather straps in the back so that I can’t slip it off my shoulders once it’s locked in place. I told myself that if I gained one more pound, I’d make myself wear it. I knew that it would hurt like hell to have to shove my big, fat tits into the cups and lock it on for a whole day. I gained two pounds this week so I locked it on this morning. I was right about the pain. Having to wear it all day hurt like hell.” She paused, then said, “So now you know the whole story. I was an emotional wreck and it made me eat too much and now I’m getting myself back on track. You can be sure that I’m going to eat less this week so I don’t have to go this again next Saturday. That's it. That's my big confession so you can give me back my shirt now.”

I began typing furiously into the Skype chat window, hoping that Rob would look at his screen before he gave the woman’s shirt back to her. This woman’s story was skewed and he shouldn’t take it at face value. He could have more fun by giving her what she really wanted than by giving her what she was asking for.

I needn’t have worried. Rob couldn’t stop himself from looking at his computer screen every time he walked past his desk. He began following my instructions as I typed them.

“What’s your name?” he asked the woman.

“Suzie.”

“Well, Suzie, I understand where you’re at, but I have to say, I’m a little disappointed in you.”

“Why?” She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. It was the the first time since she began her ‘confession’ that she had shown him her face.

“You were right to punish your tits, but that’s not the only fat part of you, is it?” He made his voice sound stern in accordance with my instructions.

“No,” she said, hesitantly.

“Your ass deserves punishment as well, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so.” Her voice was soft and trembled slightly. She could see where this was leading.

“You know so. That’s why you really came here. You set yourself up so that you'd find someone who would not only unlock your bra but would also punish your fat ass.”

She did not answer.

“What kind of punishment do you think your ass deserves?”

She looked down at the bra in her hands. “I don’t know,” she said quietly.

“I think you know exactly what it deserves. It deserves a good, firm spanking, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so.”

“You know so. You’re going to drop your pants and bend over my desk and receive chastisement for every pound you gained in the last two weeks.”

She said nothing but Rob could see her ears turn red as she contemplated the further humiliation that was inevitable now that it had been voiced.

Rob waited patiently for her to comply.

After a minute, she stood up and walked around to the side of the desk. He watched while she unbuckled her belt, unsnapped and unzipped her pants, and pulled them down to her knees.

“Panties, too.” I had told him to show no mercy.

She slipped her fingers into the waistband of her panties and slid them down to join her jeans, revealing a neatly-trimmed crotch. Then she folded her arms across the papers on his desk and bent over until her head was resting on her forearms and her butt was sticking high in the air.

Rob stepped into the proper position to deliver the chastisement that she needed. Her ass was not nearly as large as she claimed; it was considerably smaller than Jennifer-Lopez-sized and there's nothing wrong with her ass, either. Nonetheless, this woman's round smooth cheeks were begging for a beating. He used his open hand to begin delivering hard, steady strokes. Her fleshy globes bounced and jiggled with every stroke. The woman began gasping and then whimpering after a half dozen swats. Rob's hand was burning after he hit her a couple of dozen times so he stopped.

He was as hard as a stick of wood and said, “Now both your tits and ass have been taken care of, but you know where the real problem lies, don’t you.”

“Where?” she asked.

“Your mouth. The real problem is what you put in your mouth, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, casting her eyes down in shame.

“I'm goint to give you a chance to put something in your mouth that's a lot better for both of us than cake and chips. You’ve been teasing me since you came into my office so you can get down on your knees, undo my pants and take care of me.”

Rob didn’t trust my judgment. He fully expected that she would tell him to fuck off and threaten to call the police if he didn’t return her clothing immediately, And, if she did that, he'd return her shirt instantly.

He didn’t understand what kind of woman he was dealing with. He was astounded when she dropped to her knees and meekly began unbuckling his belt. In less than two minutes, he was cumming in her mouth.  “Go ahead and swallow it,” he gasped. “It’s the least fattening thing you’ve eaten all week.”

She swallowed every drop.

Rob was a virgin no longer.

“Now you’ve gotten everything that you deserve,” he said as he unlocked his desk and retrieved her shirt. As he gave it back to her, he asked. “What do you weight?”

“One thirty-two,” she said, looking down at the buttons that she was fastening over her naked breasts.

“Okay,” he said. “Come back here one week from today. If you weigh one thirty or less, I’ll take you out for a nice dinner. If you weigh even an ounce more than one thirty, then you better have your bra locked on and be bringing something for me to use to paddle you. Understand?”

The following Saturday at four o’clock, Rob was again sitting at his computer, typing up a storm. This time, though, Skype was already open connected to a discrete camera surveying the office from its vantage point in the corner by the window and a decent quality microphone. If Suzie showed up, I would be able to see and hear everything that happened.

When Rob and I had discussed the likelihood that she would be back, Rob, normally an optimist, was pessimistic. He did not see why she would volunteer for another painful and humiliating punishment session. He reasoned that she had probably lost the weight or, even if she had gained weight, would simply stay away. There was no reason for her to come today. I, on the other hand, normally a pessimist, was optimistic about this one. Few women, maybe less than ten percent, were bent the way that Suzie was bent. But she had proven that she was bent more than a little bit. She was one of the rare few who was so twisted that her needs had driven her to seek out a stranger who would dominate and humiliate her. Her need would not go away in a week. I was sure that she would show up.

Suzie arrived at exactly four o’clock. Her masochism included a compulsive streak. I could see that she was carrying a canvas bag when she stepped into Rob’s office and closed the door behind her. She stood in the middle of his office, waiting for him to speak first.

Rob knew she had arrived but did not look at her. He typed, “She’s here.”

“I see her. Keep working for a few minutes. Make her wait on your convenience,” I typed back.

“I’ll be with you as soon as I finish this,” he told her.

She said nothing, just stood impassively.

He typed for a few minutes longer before pushing himself back from his keyboard. “I’ve almost finished writing my thesis proposal. I’m proposing to design a virus-proof computer. I don’t know why the computer companies haven’t done it already. It’s not rocket science. You just build a computer so that no one can execute code on it without your permission. My design will be based on three principles. First, the operating system will be installed on read-only media. I’m proposing to put the operating system on a separate hard drive with the write signal routed through a locked switch. To update the operating system, the user has to use a key to physically unlock the drive. That way, malware can’t install a root kit surreptitiously. The second principle is that applications software is monitored by the secure operating system and, if it is ever modified, is reinstalled automatically from a write-protected source. I’m proposing a second write-locked drive for the applications sources to ensure their integrity. That way, malware can’t hide in an application program for more than a brief time. The third principle is that data is never executable. It’s execrable that anyone ever created a way for code to be executed from data. I mean, who really uses macros in documents, anyway? If something needs to be executed, it should be an explicit and anticipated function of a known application.”

Suzie listened patiently to Rob’s nerdish rambling. I don’t know if she understood a single word that he was saying but, if she accepted that she deserved to suffer the pain of the punishment bra then she could chalk up Rob’s lecture as part of her punishment.

Rob, on the other hand, appeared oblivious to her distress. He was delighted to have a woman standing and pretending to listen while he rambled on about the details of his design proposal. For another quarter hour, he talked at her, telling her about checksums for executable files, public key encryption of data, and secure socket layers for software registration servers. By the time he was finished, Suzie was whimpering softly and her eyes were dripping tears. I did not know if it was the punishment bra or the constant stream of tedious words that hurt her the most.

Finally, he said, “How much do you weight today?”

“One thirty one. I lost only one pound, not the two that you wanted.”

“You’re wearing your bra, then?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpered.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, sir. It hurts like hell.”

“Good.” He continued to follow the script that I had designed for him. “You deserve to be punished for failing to lose two pounds as I instructed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What have you brought for me to use?”

She drew a leather paddle from the canvas bag that she was holding. “I don’t deserve the mercy of a hand spanking. I will submit to a paddle if you wish to use it.”

“I do,” he replied.

I typed, “Don’t get carried away. Start light and work up slowly to a moderate strength. She thinks that she wants more pain than she really does. It should sting enough for her to know that she’s being punished, but not so much that she will be afraid to come back next week.”

The camera was good enough that I could see him glance at the screen, then nod slightly.

Suzie thought that the nod was directed at her and held the paddle out to him.

“Take off your clothing.”

She began unbuttoning her sweater. This time she was wearing angora and a pleated skirt. She looked much sexier than last time. In a minute, she had stripped completely but for the black leather bra. She could not remove that item.

“Bend over the desk.”

As the previous week, she bent over the desk, resting her head on her arms. Rob noticed that her leather-clad breasts were hanging clear of the surface. “All the way over. Press your chest against the desktop.”

She whimpered piteously as she bent further, pushing the tack-lined cups hard against her tender nipples. Rob began striking her ass with the paddle. I was surprised to see that he had a natural talent for spanking. He warmed her up with a few light strokes then began hitting her with solid thwacks that reddened her cheeks but were not so hard that they lost their erotic character. He struck her with slow, measured strokes so that she reflexively bounced off the desktop and then had to press her tits back against the hard surface. I suspected that her tits were hurting more than her ass by the time he finished. That was good. She clearly liked having her tits tortured. I was not surprised. She had large, uncommonly well-formed breasts. Undoubtedly men had been paying more attention to her chest than to her face or any other part of her anatomy since puberty. Some women invest a surprising amount of their identity in their breasts.

When he was finished the spanking, he said, “Would you prefer to receive my cock in your mouth or cunt?”

She looked back at him over her shoulder and said, “Please use my cunt, sir.”

“As you wish.” He kept her bent over his desk while he entered her doggie style.

To my surprise, she came in that position. I’ve never been able to come without direct clitoral stimulation, but I suspect that the agonizing pain in her breasts caused by him pressing on her back with his hands as he drove into her was what really brought her to a climax. She was definitely a rare breed of woman.

When he finally let her stand up and unlocked her bra, there were a couple of drops of blood on her breasts; two or three thumbtacks had been pressed so hard that they had penetrated her skin. She looked down and flinched when she saw the blood. I typed a warning to him to be more careful next time. She wasn’t the kind of woman who would want to accumulate scars on her tits.

Rob glanced at the screen and saw my warning. “In the future, I expect you to tell me if you feel damage to your breasts. We have to take care of those lovely things.”

“Yes, sir,” she sighed.

He pulled a new digital bathroom scale from a shopping bag beside his file cabinet. “We need to keep an official record of your weight. Step on this.”

The scale registered one twenty nine. He said, “You should like this scale. It weighs a little lighter than yours.” He marked a dot on a piece of graph paper that was already pinned to his bulletin board. “You have to lose nine pounds. Come back here next week at nine in the morning for next your official weekly weighing. If you weigh more than one twenty seven, you’ll spend eight hours in your punishment bra and receive another paddling. But if you meet your goal, then you’ll have a comfortable day and I’ll treat you to a nice dinner. I advise you to eat sparingly during the week. You can get dressed now.”

The soft angora sweater looked delightful when she pulled it tight across her large naked breasts but, as per my advice, Rob didn’t linger to enjoy the view; he returned to his keyboard and began typing again, not even answering when she said, “Goodbye, sir,” as she left the office.

During the next few weeks, Suzie occasionally met her goals, but failed more than twice as often as she succeeded. Her weight dropped a little but tended to bounce up and down around one twenty five, which was actually fairly light for her height. Even though she continued to insist that she was fat, she really didn’t need to lose another ounce. I couldn’t tell if she was really suffering from body image dysmorphia or if she merely needed an excuse to be punished. I suspected the latter. Women who were truly dysmorphic suffered from far more severe problems than Suzie. I could see no sign of anorexia or bulimia.

Rob became more imaginative in his punishments and that helped hold Suzie’s attention. I gave him my best advice, but he often exceeded my expectations in both ingenuity and execution. Though somewhat compulsive, Suzie did not exhibit full-blown OCD; she preferred surprises rather than slavish adherence to routine. Rob’s variations began with tack-lined leather hot pants and assorted butt plugs but soon graduated to other things. Who would have guessed that steel wool could be used so effectively? Suzie also made occasional suggestions. Personally, I thought that lining her punishment bra with thistles was over the top and Rob agreed. She begged for it and suffered it for a full hour but she couldn’t leave Rob’s office because she was crying constantly. I noticed that she never offered to do that again and he knew better than to ask.

Rob continued to force her to endure conversations with him while bound in various ways but he soon lost interest in talking about computers. At my suggestion, he began making her talk about herself. When that topic was exhausted, I turned him towards current events. He soon developed strong opinions about politics, economics, and even current literature, partly shaped by Suzie’s more mature experience and knowledge.

Their relationship lasted for almost four months. Suzie might have kept coming back forever but  Rob began dating a girl his own age and dumped Suzie.

In a stroke of pure justice, he dumped her just as cruelly and abruptly as she had dumped her own husband and lover. One Saturday, he weighed her in the morning, put her in her punishment bra, and, when she came back eight hours later, told her that he was tired of her and their relationship was over. He ordered her to leave his office and never come back. She couldn’t believe what he was saying and he had to insist that he was bored with her and never wanted to see her again. She began crying like she never had even during his most cruel punishments. He was unmoved. When she asked him through her tears to unlock her bra before she left, he told her to go find someone else to remove it. He was done with her. She hung around outside his office door for a few minutes, pleading for mercy, but he did not respond. It did not take long for her to realize that, the longer she hung around in the hallway, the longer she would have to suffer in the bra, so she soon left and never returned. Once her trust in Rob was broken, it would never be mended again.

And that girl that Rob began dating? Suzie showed me that he was no ordinary lump of rock; he was a diamond in the rough that merely needed a little polishing. I haven’t moved in with him yet but we spend every evening together. It’s our Saturdays that are really special, though.  I look forward to having nicely warmed buns and well-pricked tits once a week. Suzie isn’t the only bent woman in this world.