Spanking Ms. Whitman (Play at Work) (3 page)

She did
not
really intend him to spank her.

Of course not.

He adjusted his suit jacket and opened the door.

But as he approached his desk, he found a scene defying his expectations. Mona’s tears had dried, leaving appealing streaks on her cheeks, but she sat erect and gave him a cheerful smile. Shocked for a moment, he frowned.
What changed since I left the room?

Taken aback by her upright posture and calm demeanor, he struggled to present the face he wanted her to see—the mien he’d worn when he participated in certain BSDM activities in years past. His Dom face.

Somehow, in recent months he’d not had a taste for the sex games that had occupied his free time. His interest in quick, one-night encounters had faded as his imagination became filled with images of a smart, innocent blonde who would be appalled if she knew what he’d like to do with her—to her. She’d jokingly suggested spanking…she had no idea.

Why would such a lovely girl want to get involved with a man fifteen years older than she whose idea of a fun date involved having someone splayed across his lap while he warmed her backside with his cupped hand, or maybe one of his floggers or paddles. Or his belt…. In his mind’s eye, the armful struggling in his grasp became her, Mona. Wrists cuffed or maybe held together behind her back, making her helpless. Her nipples, hard as diamond points, pressed into his thighs. He suppressed the image, struggling for composure.

Clearly, she’d been joking, maybe to distract him. Satisfied with his conclusion, he prepared to do his job in the most professional way possible.

“Mr. Marks?” Her voice drew him back to reality, to a day when he stood behind his desk viewing an employee in need of discipline.
Discipline!
Don’t even go there!
He pulled out his chair and sat, the straining erection now hidden from her too-aware gaze.

“Miss Whitman, did you put the time I gave you to good use?” He straightened his jacket and undid the single button.

“Yes, I did.” She gave him a look from under her lashes and his heart melted. If it weren’t for his wretched past, he could make a move. Despite his ethics professor’s adamant statements, bosses did date employees all the time. But how could he ever explain how he’d lived, what he enjoyed doing in his spare time? She’d be horrified and shocked.

What did
she
like to do on an evening out with one of her boyfriends? Dinner and a movie? Missionary-style lovemaking? Unreasonable rage tightened his chest at the thought of anyone else touching his Mona. No, not his Mona! His employee, Miss Whitman, whose personal life was none of his business.

But, oh God, he couldn’t suppress the thoughts of all the ways he’d love to fuck her. Restrain her. Punish her until she came from the intensity of it.

Recovering for the moment, he continued. “Perhaps you would like to share your thought processes with me? Have you come up with a suitable punishment for your transgression?”

“I have defied your authority on numerous occasions, flagrantly breaking company policy by my tardiness. I should be punished.”

“I’m glad we agree.” Relief they were back on track dealing with employee issues allowed him to lean back, prepared to listen to her groveling. “So, what did you decide I should do with you…or two you?”
Subtle.

Casting her eyes down, no longer smiling, she mumbled something.

“Speak up, please.” His erection eased somewhat, and he shifted his weight, achieving a modicum of comfort. He’d have her back at her desk before she realized what a deviant she worked for. A moment passed, however, before she answered.

“You should spank me.”

Shit! Maybe she wasn’t kidding.
His cock leapt to full attention, straining to be free. He sucked in a breath, and another, before he could trust himself to speak. But when he did, the voice that met his ears emerged from the Dom, not the boss.
Dammit!

“I am not amused. This is a serious matter. Your career is at stake.”
Spank Miss Whitman?
He searched her face; her tongue flicked out to moisten her lower lip. She stared back at him, never wavering. “Do you know what you’re asking?” He hated the plea in his voice, but how to tell her, unless…

Her curvaceous bottom upturned on his lap, reddening under his hand—a surge of lust roared through his head.
Stop! She doesn’t understand what she is talking about and even if she did, there is no spanking the employees. Sets a bad precedent. Fun…but no, I’d have the labor board all over me in no time.
Well, some sanity remained, under the surface, even if his other side had taken control. A war raged within, and he feared Boss Man would lose the battle, and soon.

Her steady voice drew his attention back to her words. “Mr. Marks, I have repeatedly defied your authority by failing to, first, arrive on time and second, keep my word about the same issue.” She drew a deep breath and his eyes focused on her heaving breasts. “Spank me.”

“You know it’s impossible for an employer to engage in corporal punishment.” He frowned, trying to ignore the hard on that threatened to steal the blood he needed for thinking from his brain.

“What if I insist?” Her eyes, deep, shimmering blue, did not look as naïve as he would have expected. Did she know what she asked? Did she share his fantasy?
Don’t be ridiculous.
Mona, who he worked with every day—as closely as possible—could have no idea she offered the panacea for all his desires. Spanking her and then fucking her until they were both limp, exhausted, and laid out across his desk. Yet…. No. Oh, shit, he lacked the moral fiber to refuse.

She suggested more than he could deny. He’d stopped paddling others because all his fantasies involved
her.
He opened his mouth to demand she get across his lap and snapped it shut.
No, no no….
“Why would you suggest such a thing?” His voice still sounded normal, without a break, to his ears and to his relief.

“Because I deserve punishment, and maybe if I feel the sting when I sit down for a day or two, I will better remember to be on time for work.” She tipped her chin up in an adorable gesture of certainty. “And because I’ve let you down.”

Dear God!
Imagining her squirming at her desk, her reddened bottom the result of his efforts, almost undid him. He found her logic somewhat twisted, but he couldn’t push away the thought that she offered him his greatest fantasy, and his resistance had limits.

“Lock the door.”

Chapter Three

Her knees wobbled as she followed his order and turned the lock.
Gathering her courage, no doubt.
A good sign. Years of temptation overwhelmed his good sense. Her luscious curves brought to mind other games they could play, but for the moment a barehanded paddling would suffice.

His gaze traced her form, his lust for the moment occupied with what his eyes could give it. He’d jacked off so many times with her in his mind, imagining what it would be like if she consented to allow him to take her in hand, lift her skirt and caress the soft panties over her rounded globes. He couldn’t quite take it all in—
if this is a dream, don’t let me wake up too soon.

A deep breath raised and dropped her shoulders before she faced him again. Her modest clothing had always been more of a turn-on than the short skirts and clinging tops of the other women in the office. A white, cap-sleeved blouse with pearl buttons, fastened to just below her collarbone, the fabric falling over breasts his palms itched to cup. What would her pointed nipples look like compressed by a set of nipple rings, the jewelry defining them. Her skirt fell in neat, gray pleats to brush her knees, and his approving gaze drifted down her shapely, bare calves to the low-heeled black pumps. Clean, neat, curvaceous…and begging him for a spanking. Drawing the fine leather strands of his flogger through her sopping wet pussy. His breath roared in and out of his chest, the front of his trousers tenting further in his desire.

He’d always admired her business acumen and her somewhat zany sense of humor, her ability to make him laugh at his too-serious self, but under those things lay a graceful sensuality that made his heart thump in his ears whenever she stood close to him. And—he had to accept the truth—he desired what she proposed more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

She stayed by the door, waiting for his direction, perhaps? She did not look frightened, although her little pink tongue slipped out to moisten her lips and her arms were crossed over her midsection in a protective gesture. She had spoken bravely, no doubt without much knowledge of what she asked.

Once he had her over his lap, however, he couldn’t turn back. He would reveal himself to her, and take the chance she might share his feelings. If it turned out she didn’t want to repeat the spanking, he would try to move on from the woman who had occupied his waking and sleeping mind for so long, he couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t star in his fantasies. Her job would never be in jeopardy, he only hoped he didn’t endanger his business by his actions. But his out-of-control lust and affection for Mona outshone anything business could offer him. For once he would indulge what his heart and cock demanded, and let the chips fall where they may.

“Miss Whitman?”

She tensed, standing very straight. “Yes, sir?”

“Please come here.”

Her tongue appeared again, touching her upper, then full lower lip, and he swallowed. She came toward him with slow steps, eyes downcast, taking a long time to cross the expanse. Stopping next to the chair she had occupied, she glanced up, a question in her expression, but not spoken.

“Come here.” He pivoted to the side and gestured to the space in front of him. Keeping his face impassive, he waited while she walked around the desk, stopping about three feet away. He pointed to his knees and she scooted closer, focusing on the floor.

He used his index finger to tip her chin up. “I want to make sure you know what you’re asking. We’re crossing a boundary here; we won’t be able to go back.”

When her eyes met his, he caught a flash of fire in the guileless blue. She swallowed, but her steady tone reassured him. “I know exactly what I’m asking. But we’d better get on with it before I chicken out.”

She trembled, though, and he felt compelled to try one more time, to make sure they had reached a meeting of the minds. “Miss Whitman—Mona—have you ever been spanked? As an adult?”

“Not even as a child.” She wrapped her arms tighter then drew a shuddering breath.

She mesmerized him. The thin white cotton of her blouse fitted smoothly over her bra and trim midsection, tucked into the waistband of her skirt. At thirty, she looked half a decade younger. Her protective gesture remained, arms still crossed her abdomen, an issue to be addressed.

“If it becomes too much for you, you will need a safe word.”

“Okay…” Her brows lifted. She might be starting to understand. Would she change her mind?

“Tardy?”

“Arms at your sides, please.”

She gulped and unclenched her fingers from her arms, letting her hands slide down along her skirt, rubbing the perspiration away. She fought the urge to grab at the fabric and waited to see what would happen next. His gaze traveled across her plain, ordinary workday blouse and her frumpy skirt. If she’d known what the day held, she would have taken the time to put on more make-up, fix her hair a little. Wear sexy underthings.
Buy sexy underthings.

She snuck a peek at the front of his slacks, suppressing a grin. He seemed very in control of the situation, but he affected. The impressive bulge indicated a level of interest she’d dreamed of.

She scanned his expression. No hint of a smile touched his lips, but a new heat burned in the steel-gray irises.

“Face the wall.”

Level-voiced, unemotional, but moisture pooled between her thighs, soaking her panties. Would he be seeing them? Would his hand rest on the ordinary, white cotton panties she’d slipped on this morning? Dear Lord what a dull, plain woman he must think her. No wonder he’d never noticed her. He took time with her now because she’d become a recalcitrant employee who could not follow the simplest rules.

A glimmer of hope cast light on her dour thoughts. Perhaps there was more to his interest in her? They’d shared many conversations, she could usually make him smile. And he’d told her he valued her business sense. Could he possibly care about her as a woman as well? There was that oh so interesting hard-on pressing against his zipper.

“Miss Whitman?”

Oh, even now she couldn’t behave—what had he asked again? “I…I’m sorry?”

“Face the wall.” Disapproval hung heavy in his tone and she spun on her heel to find her gaze fixed on the door to the bathroom—with the closet containing all those paddles. Her head spun and she wobbled, but steadied herself.

“Are you quite all right? Do you need to sit down?”

“I’m fine, sir.”

“Are you well enough to continue?”

She winced. She couldn’t allow nerves to cost her the fulfillment of her fantasy, even if he regarded their time together as punishment of a rule-breaking employee and nothing more, although one that went along with his own predilection for fanny paddling. She couldn’t reveal her knowledge, however, without telling him she’d defied him…again.