The Boss

by Monica Belle

  I really thought he would come in me, but at what must have been the last moment he pulled out, grunting a demand to suck him as I had before. Down I went, but this time I wasn’t letting him get there first. My hand was already between my thighs as I squatted down, snuggling my face against his cock and balls, so hot and so virile against my skin. It was an act almost of worship, yet more for my pleasure than his, as all the while I was rubbing at myself harder and faster. He gave a soft grunt of complaint and took me by the hair, forcing me to take him deep in my mouth once more, but that gesture was enough to tip me over the edge. I was coming, my body locked tight in orgasm even as he gave me everything he had full in my open mouth with perfect timing.

  It had been my last opportunity. Stephen now had full permission to install the ZX system, and the next day we began to put the cameras in place. The area where Martin and I had been was one of the first to be covered, with a big ZX-5 mounted high on the wall to scan the river bank and three of the sneaky little ZX-1 models across the water so that there was nowhere left to hide.

  I spent the entire day running backwards and forwards between the river path and the warehouse, carrying gear and generally helping to seal my own fate as well as that of so many of my friends. Inevitably what we were doing was noticed, and I even had a chance to exchange a few shamefaced words with Pete, apologising for my involvement but promising I’d be doing my best to make sure the installation wasn’t permanent.

  By the evening we’d covered nearly half the river path, and two days later the system was complete with all the cameras in place and feeding data back to the council offices. That meant Paul had to be there to keep an eye on the equipment and train various techies in the operation of the system, and so on the Friday morning I found myself alone in the office with Stephen. He was whistling one of his classical airs, clearly well pleased with himself and for once didn’t demand coffee the moment I’d come in.

  ‘Ah, Felicity, there you are. We’re up and running as of now, but I want to make a quick test if you wouldn’t mind walking down to the river path with me to make sure the system recognises us.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Splendid.’

  He actually smacked his hands together in glee and was going over the details as we walked up towards the river, all of which I knew already. There were twin ZX-4s positioned on poles to either side of Town Bridge, big and obvious, their lenses moving back and forth to cover the movement of people as they came down to the path or climbed up to the roadway. Stephen chuckled.

  ‘There we are. Now that should make the naughty boys and girls think twice, shouldn’t it? There, it will have us both now, so just as well you’re not one of the naughty ones, isn’t it?’

  He laughed and I found myself returning a nervous smile, only to have him push the point, as if he wanted an answer.

  ‘You wouldn’t be naughty, would you, Felicity?’

  I hesitated, not about to admit to anything but wanting to see if he had any loyalty to me.

  ‘I might be. OK, I’m not, but let’s say I was. Let’s say the cameras caught me doing something wrong and you saw the image before the council had got to it. What would you do?’

  He laughed.

  ‘Well, unless you were actually murdering somebody, I’d delete the image and then smack your naughty bottom.’

  It took a moment for what he’d said to sink in, and then the blood was rushing to my cheeks from a sense of embarrassment beyond anything I could remember, only not so much for the appallingly inappropriate suggestion but because it had given me that same involuntary thrill his domineering words always did, only far stronger. For a moment I was dumbstruck, contemplating the idea of surrendering myself to him and having my bottom smacked as if I was a baby. He meant it too, I was sure, completing my outrage as I managed to croak a reply.

  ‘What, really?’

  ‘Oh, I think a little spanking would do you the world of good, if you were a naughty girl, that is.’

  He chuckled, a sound at once so dirty and so authoritative it left me blushing hotter than ever and thoroughly confused. What he was saying was utterly outrageous, the sort of thing only the grubbiest of dirty old men would want to do to a girl. Yet with his cool authority it came across as the most natural thing in the world, for me, younger than him and his junior in the office, to have my bottom smacked as a punishment for being naughty. No, not me, not Fizz, I would never submit to such an appalling degradation, but on the other hand, Miss Felicity Cotton just might . . .

  ‘We should certainly catch these graffiti artists, that’s for sure. Would you mind going in under the bridge and we’ll see how the ZX-2 picks you up.’

  My head had been full of hideously embarrassing yet highly erotic images of me across his knee with my bum stuck up for a spanking, and it took me a moment to adjust to the change in the topic of conversation.

  ‘Um . . . of course, although it would probably be dark if they were doing it.’

  ‘That’s not a problem. The ZX-2 can pick up infrared.’

  ‘Oh, yes . . . I remember you saying.’

  I went in under the bridge, to where some blocky letters almost as tall as me spelt out the word ‘WILD’ in vivid orange and black. Wild was Dave’s little brother’s tag, which he’d left all over Hockford, but this was his masterpiece, the one he always repainted if anyone went over it. I faced the wall, then turned around slowly, trying to pick out the lens of the hidden ZX-2. I knew where it was, hidden in an angle of the big cast-iron beams supporting the bridge, actually over the water and almost impossible to get at. It was also almost impossible to see, let alone recognise for what it was. Stephen spoke again.

  ‘Come back, then go in again as if you were trying to conceal your face.’

  He meant as if I was wearing a hoodie and I used my jacket, taking it off and holding it around my head so that my face was deep within the black material. Again I stepped up to the big orange and black tag, peering to either side as if checking that the coast was clear, then turning to rejoin Stephen at the bottom of the steps.

  ‘Thank you. That should give us an idea of how the integrated system functions. Let’s walk a little further, then check the results.’

  We moved on along the path as far as the end of Foulds’, and I found myself glancing in among the bushes where Martin and I had had sex. I hadn’t heard from him since, making me wonder if I was just a conquest to him and if he’d moved on, which hurt a little despite my determination to keep any relationship between us casual.

  Twice more Stephen had me do things to check if the cameras would capture my image, then we headed back to the warehouse. He went immediately to the office, sitting down in front of his computer and apparently quite happy for me to join him instead of staying at my desk.

  ‘OK, let us see what we have . . .’

  He trailed off, manipulating his mouse to bring up the relevant image. The picture was absolutely clear, a section of roadway and the steps leading down to the river path. Each time somebody passed a ping announced the capture of a new face, which would then come up in a separate window along with an identification number. When we appeared two windows came up immediately, correctly identifying us from the database, but as we drew close to the camera our voices grew audible and embarrassingly clear. First was Stephen’s.

  ‘You wouldn’t be naughty, would you, Felicity?’

  Then my reply.

  ‘I might be. OK, I’m not, but let’s say I was. Let’s say the cameras caught me doing something wrong and you saw the image before the council had got to it. What would you do?’

  I heard his laughter, then he spoke again.

  ‘Well, unless you were actually murdering somebody, I’d delete the image and then smack your naughty bottom.’

  Our voices faded as we moved on, leaving me staring aghast at the screen. Stephen just laughed and shook his head, speaking as he once more began to move the cursor across the screen.

  ‘I think we ha
d better delete that bit, don’t you? It wouldn’t do to have the council thinking we cheat, or that I spank you when you’re naughty.’

  I found myself going red again, but he seemed as oblivious as ever, quickly deleting the offending section and then moving on as I voiced a worry.

  ‘Might not Mr Phelps or somebody already have seen that bit?’

  ‘Very unlikely, given the sheer volume of data that’s coming in. Also I doubt they’ve got the hang of the system yet, and Paul would certainly delete anything he thought might be difficult. In fact . . .’

  He trailed off, frowning in concentration as he brought up a new window and tapped a code into a box. A list of numbers appeared, some of which had names besides them, followed by little square boxes. I watched as he ticked the first three boxes.

  ‘This is to remain strictly between us, Felicity, and I do mean strictly. You’re not even to tell your mother. Do I have your word on that?’

  ‘Yes . . . of course.’

  ‘The original Korean system is designed to pick out faces in large crowds, a group leaving a factory, for instance, but there is also a facility to ignore certain faces. This is hidden, as only senior operatives need know about it, in this case, me. I’ve now adjusted the system so that in future you, myself and Paul will be ignored.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘My pleasure. After all, imagine how embarrassing it would be if you were, say, to get caught short on the way back from Cuatro Cortado and be caught on camera too.’

  He gave his dirty chuckle and I found myself blushing again, unable to fight down my instinctive response to his intrusive comments. If it had been Steve or Pete, let alone Dave, I’d have smacked him playfully, but hard enough to make my point. With Stephen I found myself tightening my thighs and imagining myself squatting down between the bushes beside Foulds’ wall to pee, with him standing watching. First he’d suggested I be spanked, and now he’d made me think of peeing in front of him. Was there nothing too intimate for him to mention?

  Despite that, it was impossible not to feel grateful for having my details taken off the database. I might still be caught on camera, but presumably I’d come up as an unknown, or simply missed in the crowd. It would still be dangerous to do anything really blatant, but otherwise I was safe. I also felt Stephen had made me one of the team, extending protection of a sort when he hadn’t had to at all, which added a great deal of guilt to my feelings. He’d closed the window and spoke again as he sat back in his chair, now pensive.

  ‘Speaking of Cuatro Cortado, I er . . . do hope you didn’t take my actions the other night in the wrong light. It was, um . . . simply that you were very drunk and I didn’t want to take advantage of that, especially as you are my employee.’

  I found myself swallowing as I answered, and wondering what he was getting at.

  ‘That’s OK. In fact, I appreciate it. It was nice of you.’

  ‘Not at all, just what any gentleman would have done, but, um . . . I hope you won’t be offended if I admit to a great deal of regret?’

  ‘No, not at all.’

  Suddenly I was filled with hope. He wasn’t gay at all, just rather shy beneath his brash, confident exterior. I waited for him to speak again, knowing it was one of those crucial moments that can lead either way. It was obvious what he wanted, but he seemed oddly hesitant, although after the way I’d propositioned him he could hardly think I was too innocent to cope with him making a move on me. The temptation to simply reach out and ease his fly down for him was considerable. Most men love a bold move and I was sure he’d let me, but with him I wanted it to be different, for him to take control. I could even guess what he wanted to do to me, and for all the feelings of embarrassment and resentment it brought it was impossible not to feel that it was exactly what I deserved. Finally he spoke again, suddenly intense.

  ‘May I ask if your feelings were genuine?’

  ‘I . . . I never fake it, not for anyone . . . that is, I hope you don’t think I was coming onto you just because you’re my boss or something, but . . .’

  It was not easy to say, not easy to give in to all those contradictory feelings, and I could feel my face growing hotter as I went on.

  ‘. . . but, if you wanted, maybe, to be a bit . . . a bit stern with me, that would be OK.’

  I’d done it, admitted my feelings, admitted how I wanted him to handle me, and from the look on his face I had a suspicion it might cost me rather more. He had nodded, very slowly, and when he spoke again all the old confidence was back in his voice.

  ‘I know what I’d like to do, Felicity. I’d like to spank you. Do you think that would be appropriate?’

  He didn’t know how appropriate, but even as he spoke I could feel my guilt draining away and my tummy starting to flutter. I managed a feeble nod, with one motion surrendering myself to what would have been an unthinkable indignity in any other circumstances, and to pain, but I simply couldn’t stop myself. He smiled, perhaps understanding my emotions better than I did myself, because something told me this was not the first time for him, not by a long way. Not that he understood me completely, or the extent to which I deserved what I was about to get. He patted his lap.

  ‘Come along then, my girl, over my knee.’

  His tone had changed, sterner still and yet somehow playful. It was a game, in a sense, I knew that, a little ritual to express our emotions for each other. But that wasn’t going to make my feelings any less genuine, only to make that essential change, to make the utterly unacceptable be acceptable because we both knew it was sex.

  I stood up, my hands shaking badly as I folded them in my lap, wanting to make him happy by behaving the right way but unsure what to do beyond showing my submission. I hung my head, letting my hair swing down around my face, and my voice was soft and contrite as I spoke, words I could hardly accept I could say.

  ‘Yes, Mr English, sir. I’m sorry.’

  He didn’t know what I was sorry for, but it seemed to work, his answer as stern as before but with every word infused with erotic relish.

  ‘Sorry isn’t good enough, I’m afraid, Felicity. What you need is a good spanking, and I’m just the man to give it to you.’

  As he spoke he had taken my arm, pulling me gently but firmly towards him. I came, unable to resist as he laid me across his knees, positioning my body so that I was forced to put my hands on the office floor to keep my balance. My whole body was trembling, with a part of me screaming to get up, to tell him what a pervert he was, to slap him or kick him even. I didn’t. I lay mute and shivering across his knee as the tail of my jacket was turned up to leave my bottom pushed out into the seat of my skirt, the highest part of my body and feeling very vulnerable indeed. He took me around my waist, pulling me closer and holding me in place, then spoke once more.

  ‘I’m going to bare your bottom. I hope you realise that is necessary?’

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t answer. My head was far too full of emotion, of burning shame and an overwhelming excitement, of fear of the coming pain and amazement at what I was allowing him to do to me. He seemed to understand too, or perhaps he could just feel me shivering against his leg, because as he went on there was a trace of sympathy in his voice as well as lecherous, sadistic glee.

  ‘I know it’s a very important moment for a girl, her first spanking, which is why it should be done properly, by an expert. That means a bare bottom. Now, skirt up . . .’

  His words sent a powerful jolt through me, and I shut my eyes as his fingers took hold of the hem of my office skirt, lifting it slowly, up over the tops of my stay-ups and higher. I felt the turn of my bottom exposed, and more, the seat of my knickers, taut and pink over my cheeks, an image I could see so vividly it was as if I was standing behind myself rather than staring at a small area of orange carpet tile. Stephen gave a little chuckle.

  ‘Pink, how sweet, and full-cut. I do hate thongs, don’t you? Full-cut knickers are so much more feminine, and so much nicer to pull down.’


  He really was an utter out-and-out pervert, but I found his words filling me not with disgust, but with desire, albeit coupled with a vast sense of resentment. His hand settled on my bottom, big enough to cover most of the seat of my knickers. I swallowed hard as he began to touch, stroking, exploring me, with a loitering intimacy that had me shaking my head in reaction. Again he spoke.

  ‘Very pretty, and you do have a beautiful bottom, but enough messing about. Down they come.’

  A sob broke from my throat at his words, so casual, as if pulling a girl’s knickers down for a spanking were a perfectly ordinary, acceptable thing to do. Not for me it wasn’t, my emotions rising to a near unbearable peak as he took a pinch out of the waistband of my knickers and slowly, deliberately began to pull them down. God knows, enough boys have taken my knickers down, but this was different. He wasn’t just getting an inconvenient barrier out of the way, he was exposing me, baring me, to add to the pain and humiliation of my punishment.

  I’d closed my eyes, unable to stop myself from concentrating on the feeling of having my knickers slowly drawn down over my cheeks and settled around my thighs. Now my bottom was bare, showing nude to a man, that man fully dressed as he held me down across his knees, as he held me to spank me. Another sob escaped my lips at the thought of how I would look, with the sure knowledge that the lips of my pussy would be showing from behind to add one more thoroughly rude detail to my exposure.

  Stephen made a final adjustment to my knickers, pulling them out from between my thighs so that he could see absolutely everything, then gave a satisfied sigh as he once more laid his big hand across my bottom cheeks, now flesh on flesh. He gave me a quick wobble, chuckled to himself at the sight and his hand lifted. I braced myself for the pain, trying to tell myself I’d be brave, but sure I’d bawl my eyes out.