Isobel's Surprise

by Maggie Carpenter

  “Sorry,” she squeaked barely able to make her voice work.

  “Sit down,” he ordered pointing to a chair.

  Moving unsteadily forward she plopped down, and face burning she gazed at her hands now fidgeting on her lap.

  “What’s happened to you?” he frowned. “Where’s the sweet, humble kind girl who used to sit outside my office? Has the promise of success gone to your head already?”

  “No,” she bleated, “and you’re right. I got carried away and I’m sorry.”

  “That’s better, now would you please tell me what happened,” he said impatiently sitting on the edge of his desk in front of her.

  “That email I received from Patrick, my teacher,” she continued, “it was really bothering me. I wrote him back but I wasn’t sure what I said was quite right, then I felt all weird again, so I decided to go downstairs and have some lunch, you know, clear my head a bit. When I came back up I found twinkletoes reading my mail.”

  “Using names doesn’t help,” he frowned. “Are you sure? Was she opening your mails and reading them, or had she just sat down and your mail program was open because you left it that way?”

  “Uh, she was sitting in front of my computer and...uh...,” she mumbled, her voice trailing off as she tried to remember exactly what was on the computer screen.

  “You’re not sure, so it’s entirely possible you accused her of something she didn’t do. It’s not her fault if you failed to log out of your email account. She was probably logging on to read her own. Did you even bother to ask?”

  “Um, no, I just, uh...”

  “Was an actual email open, or just the list of mails, and tell me the truth,” he frowned.

  “Um, just the list, I think,” she said quietly.

  “Stay there,” he directed, and standing up he walked out the door closing it firmly behind him.

  Brittany wasn’t at the desk, and he noticed his phone had been switched to the night answer mode. If anyone called it would go straight to his voice mail. Grimacing he strode down the hallway into the small kitchen and found her sniffling, making a fresh pot of coffee.

  “Brittany-”

  “I didn’t do anything,” she interrupted looking at him with pleading eyes. “I didn’t open any of her mails, I wouldn’t do that. I just sat down and hit the power button and the computer turned on and they were just there. She came over and started yelling at me. I didn’t do anything, I swear.”

  “I believe you, Brittany. A great deal has happened in Isobel’s life over the last few days and she’s on edge. I’m sure we can clear this up. Dry your eyes and come with me.”

  Feeling like a high-school principal he took her by the elbow, guided her back to his office and walked her in the door.

  “Is there something you wish to say to Brittany, Isobel?” he asked pointedly.

  She’d had time to think, and Isobel was not just embarrassed, she was horrified at her inexcusable behavior, and as she apologized to the traumatized young woman she prayed that Brad’s opinion of her hadn’t changed.

  “I want to say I’m sorry to you too, Brad,” she offered softly. “I guess everything that’s happened has made me a bit, uh, not myself.”

  “Your apology is accepted, and now that’s settled let’s get some work done,” he declared.

  He watched them hug, then leave his office, but just as he was about to settle into his pile of paperwork Isobel reappeared, closing his door behind her.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  Moving slowly towards his desk she looked at him imploringly.

  “Brad, since I’m not going to be your secretary after Friday, and since we’ve made a pact to be friends...”

  “Yes,” he pressed hearing her hesitancy.

  “Well, uh, you just, uh, swatted me,” she began tentatively.

  “Yes, I did,” he smiled.

  “The thing is, you’ve read my writing...you know about me, and it would really help me if you made good on your threat,” she whispered. “Please will you spank me?”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It took Brad a moment to grasp what she’d said. After recovering from the initial shock he leaned back in his chair and fixed her with a steady gaze.

  “I’ll think about it, Isobel. That’s not something I’d take lightly. I’ll let you know at the end of the day,” he said soberly, and if nothing else the anticipation of my answer will be teaching you a lesson without me lifting a finger.

  “Thank you,” she breathed, and no, I don’t believe you would take it lightly, not like Patrick, not at all like Patrick.

  Stomach churning she made her way to the kitchen to catch her breath. Her hands were shaking, and pulling a bottle of cold water from the small refrigerator she took a long gulping swallow.

  How the hell am I going to get through the rest of day, she wondered, but when she heard the phone ring she knew she had to get a grip and return to her desk.

  The hours ticked by. Gail Bolen arrived and spent over an hour with her in the small conference room down the hall, and when they returned Isobel was beaming. As Brad emerged to say his goodbyes to Gail, he glanced across at Isobel settling back into desk, and the thought of having the beautiful girl over his lap surged through him. The image continued to haunt him, and by the time the day ended her invitation was impossible to refuse. Waiting until Brittany had left he called Isobel into his office and gave her his answer.

  “Yes, Isobel, I have decided I am going to spank you,” he declared. “Rather than meeting you at Raphael’s I’ll come to your place, take care of things there, then drive you to the restaurant,” he decreed.

  “But that means I’ll...” she stammered.

  “Yes, you’ll be sitting on a sore bottom all through the meal,” he said finishing her sentence. “You can change your mind, but if you decide to go forward that’s how it will be.”

  “No, I’m not changing my mind,” she quivered.

  “Then I’ll see in precisely one hour,” he announced. “Give me your address.”

  Voice slightly tremulous, she watched as he entered the information into his cell phone, then drop it back in his pocket.

  “You’re to be wearing nothing but a T-shirt. That’s my only instruction,” he decreed.

  “Yes, Brad,” she whispered.

  “Finish up here and I’ll see you soon,” he smiled, then picking up his briefcase and coat he headed out.

  It was the longest hour in Isobel’s life. Once home she quickly showered, then darted around her apartment tidying up. She’d barely finished and donned her T-shirt when the bell rang; pulse racing and stomach tying itself in knots she answered the door.

  “Hello, Isobel,” he smiled. “I’m glad to see you followed my instructions.

  “Hi, Brad,” she blushed, “please, come in.”

  Entering the apartment he thought it looked just like her. Bright and cheery, with interesting knickknacks artfully placed, and a desk looking out the window on to the street below.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked.

  “No, I’m fine thank you,” and you look absolutely adorable in that T-shirt.

  “I feel a bit weird standing here like this,” she mumbled.

  “Not to worry, I’m not going to waste any time, I intend to get right down to business,” he stated, “and I think that sofa will do nicely.”

  Placing his briefcase on her small dining room table he popped the locks and withdrew a black satin scarf, which he stuffed in his pocket, then a small kitchen timer, and a pair of sheepskin cuffs that were already snapped together.

  “Wrists please.”

  Though completely unnerved she moved across and lifted her arms, then watched, mesmerized, as he deftly secured the shackles. Picking up the timer he ushered her across to the couch, and sitting down he placed it on the coffee table.

  “Put your feet together,” he ordered, “I couldn’t find the second pair of cuffs but this will do the job,” he remarked as he wrapped the scar
f around her ankles.

  Not knowing how to respond she stayed silent, but when he sat down and ordered her across his lap she paused.

  “Sit down next to me,” he said softly, seeing the apprehension in her eyes.

  Gratefully dropping down she felt her naked bottom hit the soft fabric of the couch; it caused her to catch her breath, and nervously she stared down at her lap.

  “Is there something you want to tell me before we begin?”

  “I, uh, didn’t expect all this,” she mumbled lifting her wrists.

  “When I’m busy spanking I don’t appreciate having to grab a hand and push it out of the way,” he explained. “Those cuffs will prevent that peskiness, and the sash around your ankles is stop you from kicking. Surely you know this,” he remarked.

  “I do, yes, but Brad, uh, the truth is, uh, my experience is limited,” she murmured, “very limited.”

  “I don’t understand,” he frowned, “from what you’ve written-”

  “I know,” she interrupted, “the truth is, except for the one time with, uh, my teacher, it’s all just stuff in my head, stuff I think about,” stuff I want to happen, like it’s about to happen now.

  “Do you want to continue?” he asked gently.

  “Definitely,” she nodded, “I’m just a bit scared, and I’m really embarrassed,” she mumbled staring at the cuffs.

  “Both of those things are entirely appropriate,” he grinned, “and there’d be something wrong if you didn’t feel that way. Is there anything else?”

  “No,” she murmured, except this feels so totally different from what happened with Patrick. It feels amazing. Incredibly amazing. I feel really shy, and...

  “Then over my lap, keep your feet on the floor.”

  Goosebumps exploding she leaned forward, stretching across his thighs, and a moment later she felt his leg lay itself firmly against the backs of her knees.

  “There,” he declared, “I believe we’re ready to begin. To start, tell me why I’m spanking you, Isobel?”

  “Because I was unkind to Brittany,” she replied, wriggling in an attempt to find a more comfortable position.

  “What else?” he pressed.

  “Um, I’m not sure,” she whimpered.

  “Because you were short-tempered and childish,” he said firmly, “but the most important reason is because you need it, don’t you, Isobel?”

  “Yes,” she squeaked, “I do. I don’t know why but I do.”

  Leaning across her body he set the timer, then pulling her T-shirt up to her waist he feasted his eyes.

  You have a glorious bottom, just as I knew you would, he thought, and raising his hand he began to deliver his brisk palm to her bare backside.

  “I think your need for this is what drove you to cross the line with that teacher of yours,” he suggested.

  “You’re right,” she admitted, “I knew it was wrong. He told me he was a player but I didn’t care, I just...OW! OW! It's starting to hurt,” she protested.

  “That is the general idea,” he replied not missing a beat.

  “How long are you...OW... going to do this...OW!”

  “I’ve set the timer for five minutes,” he sighed.

  “What? Five whole...OW...minutes?”

  “Be quiet, and keep those yelps to a minimum,” he scolded. “You asked for this and you deserve it.”

  Slowly and methodically his hand smacked across her bottom, and he was immensely grateful that he’d thought to take care of himself before leaving home. The sight of her delicious backside turning red and squirming under the smacks of his hand was already stirring new life into his cock. Had he not relieved the pressure he had no doubt his ardent member would already be straining against his trousers.

  Increasing the speed and force of his swats brought a new round of squeals, and pausing to rub he glimpsed her pussy peeping between her closed thighs. Her glistening juice was evidence of her arousal, and he sighed, wishing he could take advantage of such a succulent morsel.

  “Are you almost done?” she moaned.

  “Let’s see, about a minute left,” he replied, and after squeezing the red, fleshy skin he began anew.

  “I’ve never been spanked like this,” she howled.

  “It won’t be the last time my hand will turn this bottom red,” he promised.

  “OWWWW, why?” she bleated.

  “I’ll tell you when I’m done,” he said brusquely.

  After a volley of sharp swats, eliciting loud squeals muffled by the sofa cushions, the timer dinged and his hot hand began its gentle caress.

  “How am I going to sit through dinner?” she groaned.

  “Carefully I would say,” he smiled continuing to rub away the burn.

  “My gosh, I had no idea a spanking could be like this.”

  “Come on, sit up,” he said warmly.

  Bringing her into his lap he let her nestle against his chest, and listening to her soft moans he engulfed her in his arms.

  “This is so nice,” she murmured. “I can’t remember the last time I was held like this.”

  “I think it’s safe to say you’re going to be getting plenty of hugs and frequent spankings from now on,” he said tenderly.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, a sense of joy flooding her heart.

  “Being your publisher I’m going to expect a certain level of performance,” he began, “and I think a weekly spanking will make sure of it. As for the hugs, I always hug after I’ve toasted a bottom.”

  “You’re kidding?” she exclaimed staring at him.

  “You mean about spanking you? Nope. Every Monday I’m going to give you a goal for the week. Every Saturday I’m going to come over here and spank you. If you haven’t reached your goal, and you can’t give me a justifiable reason, I’ll be applying a black leather paddle to your bottom.”

  “But, why both?” she mewed. “Why spank me and paddle me as well?”

  “The weekly spanking is to keep you calm and centered, and you know you need that,” he frowned, “right?”

  “Yes,” she sighed, “you’re right.”

  “The paddle will be discipline.”

  “Oh, I see,” she mumbled.

  “Now I think it’s time you changed for dinner,” he smiled unsnapping her wrist cuffs.

  “So...?”

  “So, what?” he asked.

  “Um, nothing, nothing that can’t wait,” she replied, reaching down to untie the sash around her ankles.

  I thought this was personal, that you were doing this because you wanted me. Why did you spank me if you’re not totally into me?

  Because you asked him to, remember?

  I did, I know. I thought he was different. I thought it would mean something more. I thought he would kiss me and...

  Give it a chance.

  Right, give it a chance.

  As Brad watched her stand up and pad across the room, disappearing down the hallway to her bedroom, he dropped his head in his hands.

  Isobel, I must have you. When we get back after dinner I’m going to tell you exactly how I feel. I wish I’d been able to see Brader this afternoon. Maybe I’ll have a chance to talk to him tonight, but if I can’t I don’t care. I’m crazy about you and it’s time you knew it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Staring at her reflection in the mirror Isobel was happy with what she saw, and picking up her evening bag she headed back into her living room.

  Brad was standing at the window, and hearing her approach he turned around; as he cast his eyes on the young woman walking towards him he broke into a broad smile.

  The lilac and green dress draping softly over her body highlighted her deep green eyes and pale complexion, her hair, usually pulled back in a pony tail, was falling in silky waves around her neck, and she’d applied a tad more makeup than she usually wore; the overall effect was stunning.

  “Don’t you look a treat?” he smiled.

  “Thank you, Mr. Saunders,” she grinned.

>   “Do you need a coat?”

  “No, I’ll survive. Coats can be a nuisance.”

  “Are you sure? I think it’s going to be chilly later,” he remarked.

  “Really? I hadn’t heard that, maybe you’re right. I’ll grab it, but don’t let me leave it behind. I’m always forgetting my jackets and coats.”

  He chuckled and shook his head as she opened her hall closet.

  You are just so adorable. Maybe I should tell you now. No, I need to talk to Ralph first.

  Following her out the door they made their way to his car, and on the drive to the restaurant, though she chatted excitedly about the book and how she saw it developing, he noticed she was shifting uncomfortably on her seat.

  Entering the restaurant they found Ralph Brader and Gail Bolen already at the table, and as Brad pulled out the chair for her, he noticed Isobel winced slightly as she sat down; it brought a smile to his lips, and a stir to his cock.

  The dinner proceeded with Ralph Brader spending most of the evening focusing on his bright new novelist, explaining in detail what she could expect in the months ahead. Though Gail and Brad were involved in their own conversation, Brad noticed Isobel was sipping the celebratory champagne unhesitatingly, but she appeared to be in control and hadn’t started giggling uncontrollably or doing anything else that could be considered inappropriate, so he left it alone.

  Dessert was ordered, and Gail and Isobel rose from the table to head to the bathroom, finally allowing Brad to have his much needed quiet word with the chief.

  “Ralph, there’s something a bit delicate I need to discuss with you,” he began quietly.

  “About Isobel I assume, I’m not surprised,” the older man smiled, a twinkle in his eye.

  “I’m sorry?” Brad frowned.

  “Saw it the minute you two arrived. Recent development I assume?”

  “Nothing has happened yet,” Brad replied sheepishly, “not really. I wanted to talk to you first.”

  “If she was working for you I’d be concerned,” Ralph remarked, “but as an author she’s independent. You didn’t show me her writing because of anything untoward, not that it would matter because I would have wanted her on the roster regardless. Just make sure you keep things balanced. You don’t want to lose the first writer you’ve contracted for your division, or the girl you care about.”