"Hi, Helen," I said as naturally as I could muster. "Just sorting out a little problem. You don't mind, do you?" It was clear from the look on Helen's face that she had idea what she was thinking: her pale blue eyes were wide with amazement, and her pretty mouth with thin, pale lips formed a stunned o-shape, indicating her shock at what she had observed. She was attractive, in an unconventional sort of way, very tall and thin, angular rather than shapely, and with a chiselled, rather long face. Her nose was similarly elongated, a thin, sharp dagger of a nose which cut through her face and dominated it. As I say, unconventional, but not at all unattractive. She had always been a friendly girl, too, chatting easily whenever we met, evincing an earthy sense of humour which I hoped would allow her to take these curious events in her stride.

Mr Loverman had not moved since the door opened, and lay on my lap, his hands covering his face. Funny, in his position I think I would have been attempting to cover my bared arse, not my face, but perhaps he imagined Helen wouldn't realise who it was spreadeagled across my lap.

"Graham's been a bit of a pain in the arse all day, really," I continued, ensuring that his hopes of anonymity were dashed, "so I thought I'd finish the day by giving him one." Helen nodded mutely. "It's the first time I've ever spanked anybody," I continued conversationally, "and it's quite good fun. You should try it some time." Again, Helen could not trust herself to say anything. "Well, please feel free to carry on and clean the office. I'm just going to finish off here; he's got about another twenty to go - how many, Mr Loverman?"

"Twenty-two," said Mr Loverman.

"Christ," said Helen.

"Well, at least you've found your voice again," I laughed. Turning to Mr Loverman, I ran my ruler over his arse again, selecting my spot, and unleashed a fearful blow, far harder than anything I had given him previously: playing to the gallery, I suppose. Mr Loverman let out a howl from between clenched teeth and his body tensed visibly. So did Helen's.

I had a good feeling about her, though. She had not rushed out of the office in disgust, and even after I recommenced my beating of Mr Loverman she did not show any indication of leaving. Half-heartedly, she flicked her duster over the shelves and cabinet, then took a turn over the carpet with the hoover in a somewhat desultory manner, and from the corner of my eye I could observe that she was watching me out of the corner of hers. Promising, I felt, promising. I laid into Mr Loverman with gusto, raising livid, painful-looking weals on his throbbing backside.

I knew that he had a hard-on: I could feel it pressing against my thigh through my skirt. He had been fairly hard throughout his punishment, but as soon as Helen had turned up he had gone almost instantly to full mast. He couldn't help himself, it seemed; he couldn't help being turned on by being forced into such compromising positions. Probably the fact that she was a cleaner, far beneath his social scale, made it all the more deliciously humiliating for the poor sap: Mr Loverman was extremely conscious of status, and being demeaned like this in front of someone he felt to be inferior to him was clearly giving him a huge, if perverse kick.

"How many more, Mr Loverman?" I asked.

"Eight, Miss."

"Is it painful, Mr Loverman?"

"Yes, Miss."

"But would you like me to stop?"

"No, Miss."

"So you're enjoying it?"

"Yes, Miss."

I looked at Helen and smiled, rolling my eyes heavenward in a jocular fashion, as if to say "men". She smiled back. I had her.

"Maybe I should ask Helen to finish off for me?"

"No, Miss," he cried urgently.

"No? Whyever not?"

Helen was rooted to the spot again, the growing ease she had been feeling evaporated on hearing my suggestion.

"Why not?" I repeated.

"Because," he mumbled, "because she's the cleaner."

"What, are you telling me she's too lowly to punish you? Not important enough, is that it?" I laid into him afresh with my ruler, an almighty whack which caused his buttocks to ripple like a pool on a windy day. "Can I remind you, Mr Loverman, which of you is sitting over my lap with his arse on fire. It's not Helen, is it?"

"No, Miss."

"So which of you is the more lowly, Mr Loverman, you or Helen?"

"Me, Miss."

"And so you would have no objection to Helen spanking you, I take it?" There was silence. Mr Loverman was in a quandary. He was clearly distressed by the turn of events, but yet again he could find no way of arguing against me. He had lost the argument, just as he always did, just as he always would. And, judging by his still hard cock jutting into me, that was the way he wanted it.

"No, Miss," he said at length. I glanced up at Helen, who looked as though she had been poked in the eye with a rubber mallet. I'm not sure which answer she had expected, or which she desired. She was confused by the whole situation, and I knew I had to be careful not to scare her off completely.

"You can if you want, Helen. It's quite good fun, really it is. You can bend him over the desk if you don't want him across your knee. Or leave it for another day. There'll be plenty of other chances, believe me." I smiled again, reassuringly. I could see a battle raging in Helen's mind, her conventional upbringing struggling against the curious temptations being levelled at her. Would primness prevail, or was a new domme about to bud? I held my breath.

"Okay," she said. "I always thought he was a pain in the arse, too. I'd love to. Over the desk, please. Show me what to do."

On my knee, head bowed, Mr Loverman groaned miserably.