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I was in heaven. I put my hand on her upper thigh just inside her skirt, and slowly started stroking her thigh up and down, moving it further and further up every time. My fingers came in contact with her amazing little pussy for the second time today, and I was rewarded with another of those sexy little squeak moans that I had fallen in love with. I no sooner touched her when she said-“Put your fingers inside me again, Mark”Who could deny such a request? I slid just my middle finger inside her at first, getting it wet and slowly swirling it around her outer lips, and then added another one. I was now curling two fingers inside her pussy, sliding them upward each time to hit her G-spot with each stroke. She leaned back onto the couch, to where she was sort of laying across me with her ass on my lap and her head on the arm of the couch. I slid my hand under her shirt and slid it up until her firm little titties were exposed. She sort of gasped a bit when I gently pinched one of her. She knew, though, that they would never be returned, and had managed to cover up their mis-appropriation by false accounting.So was her need to complete the machine, she had jeopardised everything. The box had become all consuming, often having to force herself to actually go to work, when she would have preferred to spend the time building the machine.But, now it was ready, and she knew it’s capabilities, as long as she had programmed the computer correctly.She moved closer to the door, searching for the release button, her fingers a fraction of an inch away from it, when she heard a faint metallic click.Instantly Cheryl panicked. She extended her hand, trying to reach the button before it was too late, but she knew it already was.She pleased and screamed for the machine to malfunction, but she knew it wouldn’t, and no-one would hear her screams. The box itself was three layers of wood, with foam between each layer, making it virtually sound proof, and the cellar would easy muffle.
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She was certainly of the view that Clare deserved a sound caning but she had another idea.That afternoon Ann walked down to see Peter. He was in the cottage and as she approached up the path he hid his powerful binoculars up the chimney breast. He welcomed Ann and invited her in. They sat on the old sofa.“Peter, I know you are a master at the boys’ place that has moved to the big house over by the river but would you deal with my Clare for me?”Ann explained what the problem was with Clare and Peter said he would be pleased to help but suggested she had a sound spanking first. Ann stood to go and thanked Peter.“But, Ann, if you wish Clare to be spanked do you not think you should know what it is like too, yes?”Ann was flustered.“Well, Peter, I have been caned a number of times but a spanking can’t be that different…” she said, her voice trailing off.“Not spanked, eh? Yes, Ann, I think it would be for the best, yes.”He sat on a wooden chair and beckoned her over.Ann moved close to this.

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