Chicago Spanking Review

Firm Policy

By M. D.


Fiction Section


A rising star in a high-powered law partnership learns that she is still subject to its "firm policy" for dealing with attitude problems among the female staff!


Web-Ed's notes: O.K., we've all seen office-scene spanking fantasies played out in spanking fiction before, but rarely like this: a top law firm deliberately recruits young women and pays them well in order to increase the proportion of female staff; however, it also implements an "old-fashioned" method of disciplining them. Rather than the spanking being carried out by one boss who has a female employee "over a barrel" ("You won't find another job in this economy without a good recommendation from me"), here it's the official "Firm Policy!" Diane Britton thought that as a junior partner she was exempt from the policy, but when she mistreats an important client, she learns the policy will be applied to her - good and hard!

This story is intended for mature adults and is not suitable for children. It was originally published in Devoted to Discipline #1 by Scarlett Hill Enterprises and is reprinted here by permission of the author. Some minor copy-editing has been performed but it is complete and unabridged.

The call finally came about five-thirty. She rarely left the office before six and the caller, knowing this, was confident he would reach her even after the official working hours of the firm. She had anticipated the call all afternoon, wanted it to come, yet feared it. She knew her behavior earlier that day at an important client meeting made it inevitable.

The caller was Ed Wellington, senior part­ner in the law firm of Tuttle, Cox & Robey, and the immediate boss of Diane Britton, age 35, attorney-at-law and also a partner of the firm, albeit considerably more junior and less experienced than her boss. Diane liked Ed Wellington, enjoyed working with him, ad­mired his legal skills, but now as she recog­nized his voice her stomach churned.

"Diane, I think we need to talk," he began. "Do you have a few minutes before you go home?"

"Yes...yes, of course," she stammered. "Would...would right now be okay?"

"That would be fine." He replied evenly. She gathered a few papers into her brief­case for some homework that evening and clicked off the light to her office.. But in the elevator, instead of descending 21 floors to the parking garage, she punched "22", the floor of her boss's office, one above hers. She was nervous, she had a right to be. Her conduct that morning had been stupid, unprofessional, outrageous!

Diane Britton had been highly recruited when she graduated third in her class from law school. She was intelligent, ambitious, and stunningly beautiful. Almost the perfect blend of feminine appeal and forceful personality. Almost, but not quite. For while Diane had met and surpassed the high expectations the firm had for her, becoming a partner two years ago, occasionally her forceful, quick-tempered nature surfaced in inappropriate and undesirable ways.

This morning's meeting with Brennan Manufacturing had been such a time. They were a long-standing and profitable, but omewhat difficult client. Diane and her boss had met with Thomas Brennan, the company's President, regarding establishment of a 401 (k) retirement plan for employees. It was the fourth meeting on the subject, made necessary by Brennan frequently changing his mind and interjecting his own views on a subject he knew nothing about.

He was exasperating, but it was something a good lawyer should have been able to deal with, even profit from, for Brennan's constant changes kept increasing the billable hours. But Diane had become too ego-involved in the document she'd created and when her client made changes, then more, then still more changes she exploded. Eyes flashing, the beautiful young attorney turned on Brennan calling him stupid, ignorant, an obstacle to progress. Her boss tried to intercede, but she continued her tirade, her voice rising. Losing all sense of propriety she shouted profanities at her client and only stopped when her boss suddenly slammed the palm of his hand on the table.

"That's enough, Diane!" He interrupted angrily. "This is a disgrace. You will apologize immediately to Mr. Brennan!"

She knew she had made a mistake, but she was in too far. She shook her head. "No way!"

Wellington again angrily demanded an apology, gave her a second chance, but when she still refused, he asked her to leave the meeting. He would conclude the discussion. Angrily glaring at both men she had stalked out. For the rest of the day she'd had no contact with her boss, almost relieved at the floor which separated their offices. Until he had called...

Wellington was seated at his desk as she tentatively entered his office and he immediately rose smiling, motioning her to a seat. Walking to the door he closed it. He almost never did that. Her stomach knotted. Her tension was unbearable. She had to know. " I going to be fired?"

Her boss leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. Briefly he smiled.

"Of course not, Diane! You are a partner in this firm, a very valuable partner. We've invested a lot of time and energy and money in you. I'm not about to throw that all over­board. Not unless you...unless you feel you need to leave."

"No, she said, "it would not be my idea, not my intention. It's just that today I acted very. . .well, I behaved like."

"An absolute spoiled brat!" He completed her faltering sentence. "Worse than that, young lady," he thundered, "you turned a beautiful, talented attorney into an arrogant, unprofessional, intolerant representative of our firm who could have cost us an important client!" Diane offered little defense as Wellington rose and walked around the room, his voice rising as he discussed her behavior of the morning. Finally, he paused for several seconds, then looked directly at her. "You're an excellent lawyer, Diane. You have the potential to be a great one. But you need discipline. In more ways than one." Again he paused. "I'm going to invoke the policy of the firm." Her mouth went dry. She could not say she was surprised and yet the reality of his words stunned her, made her stomach churn again. She closed her eyes.

"When?" She asked. " you mean"

"No", he responded firmly. "Tomorrow at this time. We'll make it six o'clock. Here in my office."

She had no basis for objecting. Clearly her conduct warranted it. And yet...she was a partner...she'd heard a rumor that female partners were exempt...apparently not true. She rose on shaky legs. A tear trickled down her face. The Policy of The Firm: In 1974, Tuttle, Cox & Robey was the fifth largest law firm in the state with 164 attorneys, all but three of them male. It exuded a masculine, male-club cul­ture and went about its business practicing the law, apparently immune to social events that were emerging in American society. But slowly at first, and then with an increasing sense of alarm, the firm began to realize that it was viewed as too "masculine", too behind-the-times. Business was being lost because of the image the firm projected. Talented young women graduating from law school (an increasing proportion of the total), shunned it as a place where their careers would atrophy. At the highest levels of the firm, it came to be realized that something must be done.

The idea was first mentioned in a joking manner within the all male hierarchy at Tuttle. But a couple of the senior partners thought it might have merit, might actually work. It was discretely discussed with the firm's Human Resources Department and the legalities of the concept were checked out. All agreed the idea was unusual, even bizarre, but that it was also a daring and innovative step that could go a long way towards correct­ing the "old-boy" image of Tuttle and the gender imbalance within its corps of lawyers. It came to be known as "The Policy of The Firm." Young female attorneys, fresh out of law school or in the first few years of their careers, would be aggressively recruited by Tuttle, Cox & Robey. In some cases they would be paid more than their male counter­parts, they would be given preference in getting unique and challenging assignments, and with demonstrated ability, they could expect to move quickly through the ranks of the firm, perhaps becoming a partner. Bright young women were told that mis­takes and carelessness and unprofessional behavior would not be tolerated, but that such actions would less likely result in dismissal or constraints on their career growth than they might experience elsewhere. Rather they would be disciplined in a very personal, private, and old-fashioned way. They would be spanked!

Diane Britton exited the parking garage and eased her Saab into the evening traffic. She thought of the moment she'd first been ad­vised of The Policy. It had been over lunch with one of the firm's senior partners over eleven years ago. He had just made her a job offer, one that was $5,000 higher than the next best one she'd received that final year of law school. And then he'd informed her of The Policy. She blinked, caught her breath, disbelieving. They couldn't be serious! These were modern times! Grown adult women weren't spanked, like naughty children! Were they? Why, she'd hardly ever been spanked, even as a child, and never as an adult! She remembered listening in shock as the partner detailed The Policy. Discipline was at the discretion of a young lady's male supe­rior though she could appeal his decision to a higher level within the firm if she wished to. Generally the man would administer the punishment himself and, while he was expected to stay within some broadly established guidelines, he would have wide dis­cretion regarding the severity and form of the spanking. It was made clear that the policy permitted bare bottom spankings and, in fact, anticipated their use. Diane remembered blushing as this was mentioned to her. It was also made clear that the spanking of female attorneys was to be restricted to exceptional situations and, hopefully, would occur only rarely. And when it did it would "wipe the slate clean", no formal record of the offense requiring the spanking would be entered in the young woman's file. The occurrence of the spank­ing, however, would be noted in a super-secret file to which only the highest individuals within the firm would have access.

After much soul-searching, Diane had accepted the offer from Tuttle, Cox & Robey. She was persuaded by the firm's salary and opportunity and the expectation that its policy of discipline would rarely occur. She convinced herself that her conduct would be such that, in her case, it would never happen. Diane pulled the Saab onto the expressway and smiled to herself. She had been wrong about that! But only once!

Diane often wondered how many of her "sister" attorneys at the firm (who now numbered 47) had ever been put across the knees of their boss and spanked. Sometimes she thought that one of the real "perks" of her ever becoming the first female to reach the executive level within the firm would be to peer inside the secret files and see which of the bright, confident women she worked with every day had ever had their bottoms warmed inside the halls of Tuttle, Cox & Robey! And how often!

Occasionally, whispered rumors would pass that so-and-so had been a recipient of The Policy. A couple of her closest girl­friends had admitted to her (against firm rules) that they'd been spanked. And once, well into the evening, she had stepped into the elevator to discover one of firm's brightest and prettiest female attorneys clutching her backside as tears glistened in her eyes. They had ridden down to the ground floor in embarrassed silence, both knowing what had transpired. But Diane realized that she really knew very little about the firm's enforcement of The Policy. She only knew about her own experience. And she didn't want to repeat it ever again!

It had occurred during her second year with the firm, she remembered the date well. October 21, 1986, the very same day that the Boston Red Sox' Bill Buckner had let an easy groundball roll between his legs and hand the World Series to the Mets! Two history-making events that had occurred within a few hours of each other! Millions had watched the one on television, but Diane remembered hers a lot more distinctly! In fact, she would never forget it!

She was working on an assignment for one of the firm's young partners. First their had been some minor technical errors in her work which the client did not appreciate. Then a key deadline was missed by two days. And finally she so mismanaged her appointment calendar that on the day of an important meeting with five of the client's people in attendance, she was nowhere in sight, out of town on other work! Her boss was not pleased. He reminded her of The Policy and told her the time had come to implement it.

Thankfully her boss had only used his hand and most thankfully he had only applied it to the seat of her lace panties. But oh how he had applied it! Over and over again her boss had brought his hard palm down upon her poor bottom until she kicked and squirmed and blubbered like an eight year old. Despite her pleading, he had spanked and spanked until her buttocks stung, absolutely throbbed! The stinging pain stayed with her for some time afterward, but eventually it subsided. What never really went away though was the humiliation. She was a grown woman, an attorney, and she'd been spanked like a naughty little girl! Her boss had been completely professional and never again mentioned the spanking. Eventually he moved to another position within the firm and later to another law firm, but every time she'd see him (and their paths still occasionally crossed), she would think of the spanking and flush with embarrassment.

Diane did not sleep well that night, know­ing what the next day would bring. The image of herself sprawled across Ed Wellington's knees would not leave her. Would her bottom be bare? Oh, she hoped not! How could she ever face her boss after presenting her naked posterior to him for a spanking?

In the morning, she took more than the normal time selecting her attire. A striking brown and white dress, loose enough to be easily raised, matching earrings and neck­lace. Quite the commanding, confident professional lady. Except today this lady had a date across the knees of a very angry boss and her professional bottom was going to get quite a spanking!

All day she could not concentrate. Why had he made it six o'clock, she wanted it over! She knew very well why, the office would be nearly empty at that hour and behind closed doors no one would (hopefully) hear the repeating impact of Wellington's hand (or whatever else he chose to use) as it flattened against her upturned bottom. She worked in fitful spurts, checking her watch again and again. Two o'clock. Three-thirty, four-fifteen, five. God, how the minutes crawled as her stomach knotted! And then it was time!

She rode the elevator, stepped onto the 22nd floor and walked nervously toward Wellington's office. Even before she seated herself on the sofa and Wellington in the chair behind his desk, she saw it. Like an executioner's chair, the empty straight-backed piece of furniture sat in the middle of the room. Next to it was a small stand on which had been placed a wooden oval hairbrush. She swallowed hard. So that was where it would happen and that's what he would use. She felt light­headed, almost dizzy.

"Diane," he was saying, "I have checked your record and see this has happened once before, quite some time ago. I think that you will find that this time will be more severe. You are older, more experienced, you are a partner in the firm. And what you did was not just a mistake, an oversight, but a conscious arrogant act!"

More severe! Oh no, she thought to herself, her anxiety growing, please no, please not more severe than last time! While her head swirled, Wellington talked to her, questioned her and she answered, but she knew not what about. She could only see the empty chair. And the hairbrush!

And then Wellington was rising, closing and locking the door to his outer office and then the inner office they were in. Slowly he removed his suit coat and began to roll-up the sleeves of his white monogrammed shirt. Diane watched as he seated himself in the straight-backed chair and then she heard him speak. "Well, Miss Britton, it is time that you learn some manners and client etiquette. Please come here!"

Well, young lady, Diane thought as she rose on shaky legs and approached her boss, at least it's going to happen, and at some point, it will be over and that knot in your stomach will be gone. Trouble is it's going to be replaced with a fire in you bottom! She was beside him and he reached up taking her arms and pulling her down until she tumbled across his lap. She sprawled forward, her shoulder-length brown hair brushing the carpet, her necklace dangling, legs cutting the air behind her. It was such a humbling position, one that had a single purpose, one she had not experienced in nearly a decade. She anticipated his raising of her dress until it lay across her back and the rolling back of nylons. Oh please, no more she thought, don't bare my bottom, no more! But then his hand touched the waistband of her white panties and she heard him speak, asking her to raise her hips.

"Oh no, Ed, please! You can't! Not...not on my bare bottom! You've never..."

"Now, Diane, you heard me," he responded evenly, mildly annoyed by this hint of disobedience, of insubordination. "And for the rest of today, you will call me Mr. Wellington. Is that clear?"

"Yes, oh..." She responded obediently, contritely raising her hips as his fingers moved the panties to her knees. She closed her eyes, her face flushing red. How humbling, humiliating! She was a brilliant, beautiful, 35 year-old attorney, but she was face down, across her boss's knees, about to be spanked! On her bare bottom! She could only imagine the scene she presented to Ed Wellington!

Ed Wellington, however, required no imagination! Though he had long admired Diane Britton's bottom beneath a business suit or dress, or even beneath shorts at the firm picnic, he was not prepared for the beauty of her soft bared buttocks. The twin mounds of female flesh shifted in uneasy anticipation atop his laps. Waiting to be spanked, deserving to be spanked! He would not disappoint!

SPANK! His hand flattened across the center of her waiting seat and she squirmed in his grasp, her legs accelerating their motion through the air. SPANK! SPANK! "Ow...0oooo" She bolted as his palm landed on the center of each white globe. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! ", Ed...Mr. Wellington! It hurts!" He had descended his palm in what would become a rhythmic pattern, once to each coloring buttock and then a third slap bridg­ing both. He spanked in this pattern of threes, predictable only in the number of slaps to her bottom, but not in the interval between them, not in their severity, not in the left-right se­quence, not whether he would strike the sum­mits of her stinging hillocks or the tender flesh beneath. SPANK! "Owww...." SPANK! "PL.please..." SPANK!! "Awwwww...."

Diane twisted and lurched atop Wellington's lap. She never knew when or where or how hard his palm would land, exploding against her quivering seat. Spanking, spanking, spanking until her bottom felt like it was on fire. Oh, how it stung, how it burned! She was being disciplined for misbehaving. Spanked! At age 35! Oh, how it hurt! When would he stop? Please....he must stop! And then the thought came to her, a realization that made her eyes widen! He had not even touched the hairbrush!

Suddenly, Diane was aware that Ed Wellington had stopped. The fire in her behind still burned, but it was not being reignited with fresh spanks. And Wellington was talking, sternly but not angrily, saying that she was being punished, that it was not over, saying that she was a "big girl", a partner in the firm and that her spanking would be appropriate to her position. He held her like that for several minutes, scolding yet reassuring, while tears welled in her eyes, while she bit her lip to keep them from breaking free. And then he reached for the hairbrush and rubbed it against one hot buttock and then the other. It actually felt good, the cool wood against the burning curves of her bottom! She wondered how it would feel in a few minutes! She didn't have to wait that long!

SMACK! SMACK! "Aieeee!! NoooooH" Diane bolted against the stinging impact of the hairbrush. It hurt like nothing she had experienced thus far! Hard, unyielding maple against soft girlflesh. She thrust her hand back to cover her bottom and felt it seized, held against the small of her back. She had no way to resist and now she knew she was really going to be spanked! SMACK! SMACK! "Ow...ow...pi..please!!"

Oh, how it hurt! The tears sprung from her eyes, streaming down her cheeks. Her hair brushed the carpet as she slapped her head from side-to-side, her legs fought against the panties that clung at her knees. Wellington spanked thoroughly now, one stroke at a time. No longer did Diane's stinging bottom feel a collage of hand slaps almost indistinguishable from each other. Now the hairbrush landed in distinct single strokes, imprinting the shape of the instrument on a specific portion of her gorgeous posterior. Wellington paused long seconds between each application and finally he began to question Diane.

"Do you think you have learned your lesson, young lady?" SMACK!!!

"Ow...yes..yes I have., oh, please, no more..."

"Will there ever again be such a scene from you in front of a client like we saw yesterday?" SMACK!!

"Aieeee!! I won't...I'm sorry...pi..please...It stings!!"

"And will you apologize to Mr. Brennan for your behavior?" SMACK!!!

"Aieeee....owww...Yes...yes I more!"

There was more, but not much. Wellington knew he had delivered a most thorough spanking to a deserving young lady. Her bottom glowed red, her tears flowed freely, he was convinced that Diane was genuinely sorry for her behavior, he doubted that he would see such an attitude from her again. The Policy of The Firm had worked! Gently he brought Diane onto his lap and then stood her on her feet. The beautiful, disciplined, attorney just stood there looking at her boss, both hands beneath her dress gripping her throbbing, stinging bottom. She was not angry or defiant, just relieved as tears streamed down her face and her shoulders shook in soft sobs. Ed Wellington thought she looked like a spanked little girl in need of forgiveness.

And so he gave it. Telling Diane how valuable a member of the firm she had become, how valuable she would be in the future, even saying he intended to keep her on the Brennan assignment (after she'd apologized!). He put his arm around her and gave her his handkerchief. After a few minutes he said he would be leaving to go home, but that she was free to stay in his office as long as she needed to. And then he was gone.

Diane looked around the magnificent office of her boss. She knew that this was what she wanted, to be a senior partner, and that Ed Wellington would be the best men­tor she could have for getting there. (And, she smiled and promised herself, when she got there the first thing she'd do is check those secret spanking files!) In the morning she'd make her boss promise two things. First, if he ever saw her heading over the cliff like she'd gone yes­terday, that he would shake her until she regained her senses, because she never, ever, ever again wanted to go through a spanking like she'd just received. And second. If she did go over the cliff and made a fool of herself again, that he'd promise to grasp her firmly, no matter who else was present, put her across his knee and give her the spanking of her life! She switched out the lights to Wellington's office and smiled through her receding tears. Wonder which promise he'll keep first, she thought!

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