“Yes, Sir,” she said, and moved back to stand in front of his desk.
“Something has changed here lately, and I’m trying to figure out what it is. Do you know?”
She shook her head. What she knew, she couldn’t tell. “I think we were a very good team this morning, Sir.”
“I think so too. I am in fact quite convinced that we make a very good team. Your skills complement mine. You are the yin to my yang, in many ways. The light to my darkness. It’s quite an extraordinary partnership.”
There was a “but” somewhere in there, but she’d have to wait for it. “Thank you, Sir.”
He pushed on the desk, and she thought he was going to get up, but he just stayed seated with his chair pushed back. “And yet.”
“Sir?” Her heart beat faster. Maybe she’d distracted him too much.
“There is a marked change in the way you dress for work. The way you act. That’s your business. But there’s something I can’t tolerate.”
Uh oh. “Hmm?”
He took out a file folder and put it on the desk. “Could you take a look at this for me?” But rather than putting it on the edge of the desk nearest to her, he’d put it on the far side, so that she had to bend forward over the desk to look at it. Well, that will give him a nice view, anyway. He paused a moment, and then, rather than staying and enjoying the scenery, he got up and moved around the desk.
The file had about twenty pages in it. She looked at the first one and recognized it as a letter she had drafted for him a week after starting her position at Quinn, a few years ago. About halfway down a word was circled in red, “then” when the word should have been “than.” She wasn’t sure why he had it. Surely the letter was the property of Quinn Cosmetics. It had nothing to do with his current business. She flipped a page. The second was similar. An old email, from maybe a month later, printed out, with an error circled.
With the folder where it was, she practically had to stretch over the desk to read it. She pulled it toward her, only for him to take it from her hands and put it back. “If I wanted you to read it there, I would have put it there. Keep going. What do you see?”
She looked at the third page. The fourth. The fifth. She no longer read them through. “My mistakes. You’ve kept a file of my mistakes.”
“And what do you think should happen if you make too many?”
She turned and looked at him. “Please. If you didn’t like my work, then you shouldn’t have hired me.”
“Quite so. Keep reading and answer the question.”
She turned back to look at the papers. She had no idea she’d goofed up so many times, or that he’d noticed. A tear ran down her face. But I wanted to be perfect for you. “I don’t know what should happen. I’m really sorry.”
“Clearly, something has to be done. Doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.” Dammit, she loved saying that to him usually. But not when she’d screwed up.
“But this isn’t about that. Although I’ve imagined this moment, and what I’d do to you while showing you the file I’d kept, for some time.”
“What isn’t? What’s it about?” Carrie was confused and, at the same time, aware of her position of vulnerability. She’d done something wrong. Something had to be done, he’d said it himself. And she was leaning over the desk with her ass up. It was almost exactly out of her fantasies. The only thing missing was him spanking her.
“It’s about your deceit, Carrie. The whole silly masquerade as C, where you knew who I was, and you hid it from me. No, don’t turn around.”
She had started to, and then she turned and faced the desk again. He knew.
“You have a choice, Carrie. What I’m about to do is totally inappropriate for a boss to do to an employee. So if you want, you can turn around and walk out right now, and we’ll pretend I never showed you the file I’ve kept of your mistakes. And we will forget all about your deceit. And none of the fantasies I’ve ever had will ever come true. Or you can stay and accept the consequences. Because these little typos were never anything but a pretext. The trick you pulled on me with C was real, and the punishment will be, too.”
She stayed still, not sure what to say. She could say she was sorry, but she wasn’t, not really. If he would let her stay, it was all worth it. She’d wanted him to do something inappropriate for a very long time.
The silence dragged on. She kept her position, waiting.
“Very well, Carrie. Keep reading. We will start with the pretext, before working on the real punishment. Consider it a warm-up.” He put his hand on her back, stopping her from turning around. Then, suddenly, he swatted her bottom, hard.
Bent over the desk like that, there was nothing she could do.
“Ow!” It really did hurt. This was a warm-up? He was really angry, which made her wonder what would happen when they were done. Perhaps he would still fire her but want to keep her as his slave. Or maybe she would be just a play partner. Or maybe just a secretary. She didn’t know, and it was impossible to pretend that only the moment mattered, even if the moment was right out of her fantasies.
“Keep reading.”
She flipped the pages, one after another. His hand beat a stinging rhythm on her backside. She couldn’t really focus on the words on the page. Her pussy was getting wet. Three quarters of the way through, he suddenly said, “Stop.”
She froze.
“I’m not sure you’re feeling this enough. Lift your skirt.”
She gulped. How many times had she played out scenarios like this in her mind? She lifted her skirt, bunching it up to her waist. She usually made sure she had a pretty bra on, and matching panties, but since the top she wore had built in support, she’d just grabbed an old pair of white cotton ones. So naturally, this was the day he saw her underwear.
He ripped them off with one sudden jerk and tossed them toward the wastebasket on the other side of his desk.
“Those panties are not acceptable, Carrie. I think I pay you enough to get nicer underwear, but if you can’t find better undies than that, then don’t wear anything at all. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” She took a deep breath and smiled. She flipped another page, not sure what else to do. He spanked her again, just as hard, but it hurt less. He’s going to keep me here, or he wouldn’t tell me how I’m to dress for work. And he’s going to keep playing with me, or he wouldn’t care about my panties.
The idea of wearing nothing at all for him excited her but not as much as his hand on her naked backside did. He kept spanking her, heating her bottom with his bare hand. Another page, more recent, with a mistake circled.
“Go to the last page.”
She flipped to the last page, and there was a picture of a familiar violet object. Her mask.
“This is about lying. About not giving me the full right of consent, by depriving me of basic knowledge of what I was doing, and to whom.” He moved to the other side of her and resumed the spanking with his left hand, talking slowly and punctuating every third word with another swat.
I did that, didn’t I? Another tear ran down her face. I really did fuck up.
“Perhaps you knew that I wouldn’t feel right about doing those things to someone who was working for me. Perhaps you didn’t. But now, you put me in a position where I did those things anyway.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“The problem is that I’m not. I’m going to do what I’ve wanted to do to you since you first walked into my life two years ago.” Suddenly he pushed his fingers into her wet pussy, and she gasped. She opened her legs and arched her feet, trying to get him deep inside her. His thumb found her clit as he finger fucked her, hard and fast.
The spanking had indeed warmed her up for him. She grabbed the far side of the desk as she felt her climax edging closer. Did he know what he was doing to her? Of course he did. It was the same thing he had done to her in the club over the weekend. His skillful fingers found just the right places to drive her absolutely insane. Just a little bit
more…
“Of course, in my fantasies I would make you come. This time, you still have punishment coming.” He withdrew his fingers, leaving her empty and needy.
“Please?” she asked.
“Please punish you properly?” He asked. He wiped his fingers on her bottom, and she felt vaguely ashamed of how wet they were. She was so turned on. The rightness of it all, of Blake being in charge of her―and the wrongness, too, of her being bare-assed before her boss―all had aroused her.
And there was nothing she could do about it. He’d stop her if she tried to get herself off. All she could do is lie there, take it, and catch her breath. It was hard, but after a moment she realized he could do this to her all day if he wanted to. She was so close to what she wanted, which was so much more than an orgasm. She wanted to be Blake’s. And he certainly had a right to be mad. She hated to beg, but she knew what he wanted. “Please, Sir. Please punish me properly.”
“Reach over into the right-hand drawer, Carrie, and give the paddle.”
Maybe he was tall enough to do that, but she couldn’t quite reach. But she wasn’t going to fail him. She pulled herself up on the desk, her feet leaving the ground, until she could get it open. She felt around in it. A foil wrapper crinkled in her hands. A plastic bottle of some sort. Finally she found a cool hard handle and pulled out what she hoped and feared was the paddle he wanted.
It was black, made of wood. The handle was rounded and comfortable, if a bit big for her hands. Perfect for his, presumably. The business end was a beveled rectangle, with three rows of holes in it. She paled. It was going to hurt. She’d probably have accepted the pain in a club or at a play party without a thought, welcoming it for the distraction it was going to give her. Or perhaps she sought punishment for the accident she couldn’t have avoided. But here in the office was another matter. And while being turned on enhanced her ability to take pain, getting paddled instead of getting an orgasm when she was so close was frustrating.
“This, Sir?” she asked. He could always say no.
“That, Carrie.”
She handed it back to him, and he took it from her.
“Do you know what the holes are for?”
“To put marks on my butt?” she guessed.
“Indirectly. An ordinary paddle compresses air between it and the surface it strikes, which slows it down. This allows us to make a firmer connection.” He laid the paddle against her bottom. “We want a firmer connection, don’t we?”
He means it hurts more. But a firmer connection was exactly what she wanted. “Yes, Sir,” she said and added, “I would like as much of a connection as possible.” She knew that last might give him license to hit her even harder, but she couldn’t resist, and she hoped he’d read between the lines. If he did, it would be worth the bruises.
“Get your feet back on the ground.”
She scooted back until her feet were touching.
“We will never be the same, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied.
He tapped her gently with the paddle. “For most subs, work is a refuge. A place where they can recharge their batteries so that when they go home, or to a club or an event, they are ready for something a little more exciting. Work isn’t going to be safe that way anymore. I don’t know if you’ll want to stay on. But I can’t let this go either. I don’t want to let this go.”
“And I don’t want you to.” She knew if she didn’t take her punishment, she would never really feel right about what had happened. Maybe that’s why she needed so much pain after the accident, and after her husband left her. She needed to be punished, even though she really felt she’d done nothing wrong. This time, she actually had. And worse, she knew she’d do it all over again if she could capture Blake’s heart.
He swatted her, hard, and it stung like a bitch. It wasn’t a thin line like a crop or a cane. It was all over, and she wondered if she was imagining that she could feel the holes, and that they hurt worse than the actual wood. That made no sense. But it cleared her head of one thing. She wasn’t getting Blake’s heart. She might get his fingers and his cock, and she was certainly going to get his paddle. But it was silly to think that he’d love her.
I’m just not that lovable. But being fuckable will do.
The next blow nearly lifted her off her feet. He targeted the underside of her bottom, and the strike tugged at her pussy. And hurt. How many of these are there going to be?
As many as he wants. They’d be easier to take if she knew how many. But she didn’t want them to be easy. She wanted to please him and to show him she was brave.
Tears ran down her face as he spanked her with the hard wood, and dripped on to the desk. His hand, in gentle contrast to the hard smacks of the paddle, caressed the middle of her back. Sometimes she didn’t know what marks a beating would leave, but this time she was sure that there would be bruises all over her butt for a long time. It was going to hurt to sit down. Even fabric rubbing against her as she walked would probably remind her of what she had done and of what he had done to her.
And she didn’t care. She started to space out. She often went into subspace when given enough pain and blissfully floated until she was almost unaware of her surroundings. It was dangerous, because she wasn’t likely to use her safe word in that state, even if she needed too, so she needed a Dom she could trust. Here, though, the circumstances kept her rooted in the present. There was no way she was going to safeword, but the fact that she was being paddled by Blake in the office was even more intense than the physical act. Her breasts were squished against his desk. And he was definitely someone she could trust.
Abruptly, he dropped the paddle on the desk, where it clattered. Then his hand caressed her bottom. Even its touch stung, but it was calming, too. The punishment was over, at least for a moment.
“You’re a good girl,” he told her. “You took that well.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She felt like her face was sticky from crying. She didn’t know about well, but she had taken it, and she felt a sense of pride in that.
“Reach in the drawer again. There are condoms, and a bottle of lube.”
He wouldn’t need lube if he was going to fuck her pussy. But then, maybe I don’t deserve to have my pussy fucked. If he takes my ass, I won’t come. Although I thought that last time. She scooted on the desk, retrieved the items, and placed them next to the paddle for his use.
He surprised her by bending over her and kissing her cheek. He licked her face where the tears had run, with more gentleness than she had imagined he felt. She had to know, because it was confusing. “Am I still being punished?”
“No. But it may hurt when I press against you from behind…”
“It will definitely hurt then, Sir. But it will feel good for you, I hope.”
“I have no need to punish you further. We are even. If it was just for punishment, we are done, and you can go back to your desk. Do you want more than that, Carrie?”
“Yes, please, Sir.” Oh, so much more. More than you’ll ever give me, I expect.
“I am, however, still a sadist. I enjoy your pleasure, and I enjoy your suffering as well. Perhaps you have had enough of the latter, however.” His voice sounded genuinely concerned. It was that tender streak that had made her fall for him. He was a demanding boss, but he cared. Sometimes he liked to cover it up with brusqueness, but she knew him well.
If she played on that, she could get him to use her pussy and make her come, she suspected. It was tempting. She took a breath, while he waited. “No, Sir,” she finally said. “I want you to do whatever you enjoy. And it is quite clear what you want.” Then, in a moment of bravery, she added, “Have you fantasized about sodomizing me on this desk before?”
“Yes,” he said, his voice suddenly hoarse.
“I have, too.” And so much more. But it was the truth. “Let me be your fantasy.”
“I will,” he said. He picked up the condom wrapper, and she heard him rip it op
en in the stillness. She fancied she heard a zipper, as well.
“May I look, Sir?”
“Yes.”
She twisted her neck to look back, but she couldn’t see his cock. She hoped it would be in her hands again sometime. And in her mouth. Her mind raced with ideas of what might happen in their future. But right now she just wanted to see it.
She felt it, instead. He pressed it to the lips of her pussy and then thrust it in. Had he changed his mind? It didn’t matter. It felt so good and filled her up so nicely. The spanking had done nothing to ease her wet and ready state, and he slid easily. She could feel each thrust on her sore bottom.
She felt the tension rise in her core. She fought it, trying not to come, even though she wanted to. He was just using her pussy to slick himself up, after all. She felt cool lube drizzling on the crack of her ass, confirming his ultimate destination.
Just a slave to be used. My pleasure is secondary.
He pushed his finger into her bottom, slowly at first, then farther as she relaxed and let him in. His thrusts stilled, making it easier for her to stave off her orgasm. He wiggled his finger all the way in and then started moving again.
“Do you like having things in your ass, Carrie?”
She’d always thought of it as something she did for someone. But she did like it. There were sensitive nerves there that loved to be pleasured, and even the idea of it turned her on. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.”
He started moving his finger in and out, in time with his thrusts. The way his body pressed on her bruises reminded her of his control, which aroused her further. She clenched her teeth, trying not to make this about herself. Why isn’t he taking me the way he wants? What is he waiting for?
“Why are you fighting it, Carrie?”
“It’s not about me.” Her hands fluttered. Can’t hold on.
“Unless I say it is. Come for me, my little slut.”
With his words her resolve weakened, and his next thrust pushed her over. She shook with the force of her reaction. She grabbed the edge of the desk and screamed as violence of her orgasm overtook her like a runaway freight train, unstoppable and out of control. It went on and on, leaving her panting.
Private Secretary Page 9
