The Boss

by Monica Belle

  As it turned out, I could do better than that. I had the plans on my computer, and it was part of my job to print them out, which gave me the ideal opportunity. I made the changes while Stephen and Paul were sorting out which boxes we’d need in the warehouse; nothing major, hopefully nothing obvious, but just enough to allow Steve his short cut and make sure one or two crucial places weren’t covered.

  I felt bad as I did it, and repeatedly had to tell myself it made no difference to Black Knight Securities, let alone Stephen personally, but only to the council. That didn’t stop my heart staying firmly in my mouth as I worked, or my worry once I’d done it and the sheets were squeezing out of the printer at what seemed a painfully slow speed. Neither Stephen nor Paul emerged from the warehouse, and as I soon as I was done I put one set into the file and the other into a big brown envelope. It was at least another ten minutes before Stephen came out.

  ‘Are you finished, Felicity?’

  ‘Yes, Mr English.’

  He smiled at the way I said it, making my voice deliberately subservient, and allowed his hand to stray to the curve of my bottom as he came to stand by my chair, idly kneading one cheek even as he continued.

  ‘Good. Would you mind running it over to the council offices? I’d prefer it delivered by hand, and if Paul or I go Phelps is sure to bombard us with questions.’

  ‘Of course, Mr English.’

  ‘Will you stop talking like that, or I might be tempted to put you across my knee right now.’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  His eyebrows rose and he wagged a finger at me, but I was already gathering up the envelope. I’d been play-acting, partly to hide my nervousness, but as I left the office I was reflecting that if I’d ever really deserved a spanking it was right now. But I wasn’t going to get it, not for that anyway. I’d changed the master copy, and as Paul and Stephen had been so busy it was very unlikely they’d notice my changes unless the council complained, which again seemed unlikely.

  It was only a short walk to the council offices, and as luck would have it Mr Phelps was in the office car park, talking to Mr Burrows. They were standing next to a shiny red 4 × 4, and for once Phelps was smiling. I caught his voice as I approached.

  ‘. . . won’t be so easy to steal. The security system is top of the range.’

  Mr Burrows gave a doubtful frown.

  ‘I thought you left your keys in the car last time?’

  ‘Well, yes, but . . . What can I do for you, Miss Cotton?’

  ‘I have the final proposal for the complete ZX system, Mr Phelps. Pardon me for eavesdropping, but had it already been installed, whoever stole your car would undoubtedly have been caught.’

  ‘I know that, Miss Cotton. Good. I feel confident about this one, Geoffrey. It has the potential to make a real difference, both to crime rates and in terms of cost benefits . . .’

  He was talking to Mr Burrows, not even bothering to thank me as he walked away. I ignored the temptation to run a key along the side of his shiny new car, but only because I was right under one of the old cameras. Instead I started back, only to hesitate. It was lunch time, to all intents and purposes, and Stephen wasn’t to know I’d delivered the plans so quickly. I might easily have been kept waiting to see Mr Phelps, for ten minutes, twenty minutes, perhaps even half an hour.

  It had been a stressful morning, and the thought of a glass of cold vodka and lime in the Bull directly across the road was too much for me. With luck Stephen would arrive a few minutes after one and buy me lunch. I could tell him I’d only just left the council offices. To think was to act, and two minutes later I was sitting in a window alcove watching the world go by and sipping my drink.

  I had done what I could, for the time being anyway, and I felt reasonably content, or at least resigned. I was telling myself that maybe Mum was right and it was time I began to behave with a bit more restraint, as she liked to put it. Not that bonking Archie Feltham was particularly restrained, but it did at least mean she could hardly complain about what I got up to with Stephen. I knew she might do anyway, especially if she discovered I got spanked, a thought that made me cringe with embarrassment. Evidently I’d have to be careful, especially walking around with a bruised bum.

  My drink was only a little less than half full and it was still a few minutes before one when I saw Stephen approaching. He was alone, and I smiled and waved from the window, causing him to glance at his watch and lift one eyebrow. As soon as he came in he walked around to my alcove and I immediately found myself apologising.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would matter as . . .’

  He raised a hand.

  ‘Don’t worry, not at all. Five minutes one way or the other is hardly the end of the world, and anyway, I think we both know the best way of dealing with minor infractions. What are you drinking?’

  ‘Vodka and lime.’

  He turned for the bar, leaving me with a now familiar sense of unease in my tummy. It was obvious what he meant, that my little piece of cheek was going to cost me a spanking. Soon he was back, and I pointed out something he seemed to have overlooked.

  ‘I’m still a little sore.’

  ‘I’m sure you are. But never mind, I prefer to start on pristine skin and it’s fun to make you wait as well.’

  ‘Sadist.’

  ‘Absolutely. Now let me see. Going to lunch early without permission, not an especially serious offence. Let’s just say a spanking, on the bare naturally. If you do it again, you’ll get the cane.’

  I nodded and swallowed. He was making no effort at all to conceal his delight, both in what he was going to do and in his power over me. Already my tummy was fluttering badly with the same mixture of resentment, apprehension and arousal welling up with astonishing speed. Stephen smiled as he sat back, took a moment to immerse his nose into his wine glass, then spoke again.

  ‘Not bad at all, if rather young and a trifle oaky for my palate. Would you like some lunch?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  He’d changed the subject casually and completely in his normal infuriating manner, as if the things that were so strong for me were of no more importance to him than what wine he happened to be drinking. Only as he went on did I realise that he was actually being anything but unemotional.

  ‘Felicity . . . I enjoyed our weekend immensely, and . . . and I think I may fairly say that you possess a unique combination of innocence and, well, lewdness frankly, and please don’t be offended when I say that.’

  ‘I’m not, not at all.’

  ‘Good. The thing is then, I mean to say, without being presumptuous, can I assume you’re not in a serious relationship at all? You mentioned an American airman, I think?’

  ‘Martin, yes. I doubt I’ll be seeing him again. He was too possessive.’

  ‘Ah ha, you dislike possessive men then?’

  ‘If they think they can take me out on a couple of dates and then start ordering me around, yes.’

  ‘Are you not interested in . . .’

  He broke off as Paul appeared at his elbow, placing a large camera box on the table, the new ZX-6 he’d ordered, and within moments we were talking shop.

  I was sure Stephen had been going to ask me if I wanted to make our relationship official, perhaps even exclusive. Unfortunately with the amount of work on and the council constantly wanting to check over a wealth of tiny details, we didn’t get a chance to talk alone for the rest of the day. By the evening we were both exhausted, and while I’d have been happy to go for a drink after work he simply gave me his usual combination of a kiss and a pat and left.

  The next day was the same, worse if anything, with Mr Phelps there half the day going over the plan. He’d written all over it, suggesting all sorts of changes, but in doing so completely obscuring the ones I’d already made. A few of mine were undone, but he’d missed the most important one completely, as did Stephen and Paul, leaving me as full of mischief and guilt as ever. Again I was hoping Stephen would suggest going out af
ter work, but this time Paul wanted to talk to him and I ended up excusing myself.

  I was feeling frustrated as I walked up the High Street, wondering exactly what he’d intended to say and how I should respond. He had brought out feelings in me like no other man, with the possible exception of Steve, who hardly counted. He had definitely done things to me like no other man, Steve included, and if they were distinctly kinky then I had to admit they were very nice too. On the other hand I wasn’t really in love, because if I had been I was sure I’d have felt I wanted to be faithful to him for the sake of it, and I didn’t. If I was faithful it would be for his sake, which again gave me mixed feelings.

  My head was completely in the clouds, so much so that I didn’t even notice the little knot of American servicemen gathered near the base of Town Bridge. I was almost on top of them before one spoke to me, and even then I had to do a double take before I realised who it was: Martin.

  ‘Um . . . hi.’

  ‘Hi, Fizz. You OK?’

  His friends were exchanging knowing grins and quickly moved back to let us talk. I wasn’t at all sure what to say, but he was being friendly and when he asked the crucial question there was no malice in his voice at all.

  ‘What’s this I’ve been hearing?’

  ‘About what? No, I know. I suppose Billy’s been telling you that I’m a cheating bitch, but it’s not like that at all. I didn’t know you wanted to be serious, and how was I to know you’d gone to Afghanistan, and . . .’

  ‘Hey, cool down. I’m not pissed with you.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No, that’s just Billy. Where he comes from if you wink at a guy he’ll probably decide you’re his for life. That’s not me.’

  ‘Oh . . . good.’

  ‘Since we’re on the subject, what’s the deal?’

  I shrugged, not really sure. Stephen and I were getting serious, but I didn’t want to commit myself when nothing had been said, or end up having either of them accusing me of being unfair to them. He spoke again before I could decide what to say.

  ‘Do you want to see me again, or what?’

  ‘I want to see you, yes . . . of course I do, but it’s all got rather complicated.’

  ‘Tell me about it. Let’s walk.’

  He started down the steps to the river path. I hesitated, but we were already on camera. I followed, but when he tried to put his arm around me I detached it gently.

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing, except that we’re being watched.’

  He glanced back to the ZX-4 on the bridge.

  ‘That’s not covering us.’

  ‘No, but at least two others are. My company’s got a pilot scheme running right along this path.’

  ‘But we . . .’

  ‘That was just before they were put up. If we did that now we’d be giving a live show, not just to my bosses either, but half the nosy bastards on the council, and the police.’

  ‘Shit! Thanks for the warning.’

  ‘The whole town will be covered in a few weeks, and all the local lay-bys and stuff.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘No. Look, Martin, I don’t know what Billy told you, but this is how it stands. I’m seeing my boss, Stephen, but it’s not official or anything, not yet.’

  ‘You mean another guy might still get a look in?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  He laughed.

  ‘You’re honest, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘Not really. I just hate big emotional crises and stuff. I’ve never understood why people can’t just have fun together, as friends, without getting jealous.’

  ‘That’s nature, I guess.’

  ‘Do you think so? I think it’s just the way we’re brought up, like sex has to be such a big deal all the time. I’ve never felt I wanted to be faithful to one man, not ever.’

  ‘Maybe you just haven’t met the right man?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  We’d reached Foulds’, out of sight of his mates but not the cameras. By the time we’d got to the bridge across towards the Blue Boar I’d made a decision, and took his arm as soon as we were safely into the fields. He didn’t say anything or try to push it, accepting my gesture at face value. By then he was telling me what it had been like in Afghanistan, which was both fascinating and horrible, making me feel that my own concerns were really trivial.

  I’d originally been meaning to go to the pub, but we crossed the road and walked up into the Breckland. It was a beautiful evening, soft and warm, making it very easy to relax after spending the whole day running around at work. When Martin finally decided to kiss me I gave in immediately, allowing him to take over. He’d steered me off the path, to a little glade where he laid me down among the long grass, still kissing me as he fumbled open the buttons of my blouse. I was enjoying being undressed, and much too into him to think of anything else, until he was easing my knickers down under my skirt. As he cupped one cheek in a massive hand I felt my bruises, my skin still ridged from the six cane welts. A moment later he’d sat up, quickly rolling me face down to inspect my bottom even as I gave a protesting squeak. My knickers were still down, and it was too late.

  ‘Shit! What bastard did that to you?’

  ‘It wasn’t like that, Martin, it was . . .’

  I broke off, sure he wouldn’t understand and with a horrible picture of him punching Stephen’s lights out, which I was sure he could do, and easily. The next moment I was babbling, making it up as I went along and saying anything but the truth.

  ‘. . . it was just a game, between me and . . . and my friend Josie, you know, from the band. We got a bit drunk, and . . . and she wanted to play forfeits, you know, when you have to tell a secret or do something . . .’

  ‘What, like truth or dare?’

  ‘Yes, like that, and she . . .’

  ‘You played truth or dare and you got your butt whacked?’

  His voice had changed completely, from aggression to amusement. Evidently it was all right for me to get caned, so long as it was from another girl. I managed a wry smile.

  ‘Yes, six.’

  ‘I can see that. Ouch! What was the truth?’

  ‘Something really secret.’

  ‘I guess it must have been.’

  His hand was on my bottom, very gently touching my cane marks and shaking his head in astonishment for what I’d supposedly let Josie do to me. It felt quite nice, but from his initial tone it didn’t seem likely that he’d be prepared to give me anything similar. Or so I thought, until he spoke again.

  ‘So what, did she make you take your panties down?’

  ‘Hey! I thought you were concerned about me?’

  ‘Yeah, well . . . if someone had done that to you when you didn’t want it, I’d break his face, but seeing it was a game . . .’

  He trailed off, still stroking my bottom. I wasn’t sure what to say for a moment, but it was probably obvious that I’d been done on the bare, while the thought seemed to turn him on.

  ‘Yes, she made me take my knickers down.’

  ‘She’s a dyke, yeah?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It was true, although beyond touching my tits up on stage she’d never tried it on with me, and that was really just part of the act with Rubber Dollies. She’d never expressed the slightest interest in spanking or caning, to me or anyone else. Yet it obviously turned him on and I was enjoying the attention to my bottom. He was growing more intimate too, tickling me under my cheeks, and as I laid my chin on my hands I continued.

  ‘You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘It’s kind of horny, I guess, you know, two girls doing kinky stuff. I like that.’

  ‘Yeah, you and every other man on this planet. OK, this is what she did. I had to bend over and touch my toes in front of her. She lifted my skirt up first, right up, then she took my knickers down, all the way, so everything showed. I had to stay like that while she fetched a cane . . . a bamboo it was, out of a pot p
lant. She gave me six strokes, hard ones.’

  ‘Looks it. I bet it hurt.’

  ‘It stings like anything, but it’s OK, afterwards at least, because it left my bum feeling sort of warm and glowy.’

  ‘Yeah? So what, was that it, or did she hit on you?’

  It was quite obvious that he wanted the answer to be yes, but it just didn’t feel right and I decided to keep him guessing instead.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

  His eyes went round, obviously having reached his own conclusion. He blew his breath out as he rolled over into the grass. I too changed position, laughing at the thought of what would be going through his head and how easy it was to drive him wild. The bulge in his trousers was obvious to say the least, and I let my hand stray down, stroking him, which sent a little shock of pleasure through me. A moment later I’d unzipped him and he was bare in my hand, thick and dark and hot, his balls too, all of it protruding from the fly of his uniform. It’s always my favourite, an otherwise fully dressed man with his cock and balls out, and what with airforce uniform and the sheer size of him, Martin was a perfect example. That was enough for me, the sheer physicality of it, but he had other ideas.

  ‘Tell me about it while you do that.’

  ‘You’re a dirty old man, Martin, do you know that?’

  As I spoke I began to masturbate him, trailing my fingers over the silky skin of his balls and up the shaft of his cock. He groaned in response, putting out one big arm to gather me in, his hand once more on my bottom, stroking my cheeks as he spoke again.

  ‘Go on, Fizz, you can’t leave me hanging like that.’

  ‘Can’t I?’

  ‘Don’t do this to me!’

  I laughed again, amused by his urgency but still unsure. Josie was my friend and had always respected my sexuality, just as I respected hers. And yet it was only fantasy, just to get Martin even hotter.

  ‘OK, but admit you’re a dirty pig.’

  ‘OK, OK, whatever.’