Over The Boss' Knee (2 page)

"Oh,
yes," she moaned.

Tess began
rubbing her clit, while her bottom undulated with the motion. Just the fact she
was doing it in the middle of a workday with an office full of people outside
the close door was so illicit, it turned her on even more. Not that she needed
much help after that spanking, which had been so much more disciplinary than
sexual.

"Oh.
Oh,
" she moaned. "I loved being spanked like a naughty
girl."

It was a
statement and question combined, while she drawled out the word,
"naughty" on a long moan of pleasure ratcheting up inside her clit.
Suddenly, she fell off her heels while trying to spread her legs wider and her
eyes popped open as she plucked her nipple point harder. Through the haze of
rising aches in her sex, she saw she was alone and she went back to rubbing her
clit with even deeper circles.

"
Mmmm
."
She stood on her toes leaning against the door as her mind relived every nuance
of being forced over Mr. Carlson's lap, held there helpless, and then spanked
hard.

"Oh!
God!" A climax rushed through her, quivering in her thighs as the heat in
her pussy throbbed against her fingers. The pleasure rolled and rolled as she
pushed her sore bottom against the door. She groaned with her entire body
quivering.

Ten
minutes later, after cleaning up in Mr. Carlson's private bathroom, she was
back at her desk fighting the feeling that everyone in the busy office knew all
the naughty things she'd been doing. But each time she looked down the hall, as
usual, no one was paying much attention to her at all.

A
week
passed where Tess found that she and Mr. Carlson were studiously ignoring
"the event" as she'd come to think of it. She certainly wasn't going
to bring "the event" up in their conversations. Even as much as she
wanted too — and obsessed over it. In one way she was glad he hadn't treated
her any differently, because he was handsome and all, but she wasn't attracted
to him in that way. It was the act she was lusting for. She'd gotten off to
replaying the spanking in her mind at least two times a night all week long.
The fact that she didn’t have a boyfriend to cuddle up to with all the hot and
newfound horny feelings she had was a real shame now she was so enlightened.

That day
she was at lunch across the street from the office building where she worked,
when her Blackberry made a knocking sound. Someone had sent her a text. She
absently pulled her cell phone out of her designer purse, while admiring the
new buff-colored ankle boots she'd bought to match her new Tony Burch dress
that slimmed down her sides to mid-thigh.

Tess
read the text.
" I'll pay you five-hundred to let me paddle you for
fifteen minutes. Mr. Carlson."

Her
breath sucked inward and she quickly looked around the small Cafe as though
someone might actually be able to see the text. Then her heart started beating
faster and she realized she'd been hoping for this all along. Something inside
warned her that Mr. Carlson was a happily married man and if she ever let on
she was doing it because it turned her on so much, he would quickly end it.

She
thought carefully about her reply, then she texted him back.

"I
want to help the company and you, sir."

His
reply came immediately.
"My office as soon as you can."

Her
heartbeat was thudding as she considered that while her new wool dress was
stylish, it was also much shorter than her pencil skirt had been. Naughty her,
it sent more of a thrill shooting through her. Underneath her dress she had on
a cashmere pink bustier set with thong panties and a garter belt clipped to her
stockings. She never wore stockings.
But she had for the last week.

Tess
paid for her salad and tea and she left the Cafe to hurry across the street,
while wondering how she was going to keep her excitement from showing when she
entered Mr. Carlson's office. Once she'd set her purse and Blackberry down at
her desk, she walked to the closed door of his office and she knocked softly
with butterflies doing a Bollywood dance inside her stomach.

"In."
The word was short and curt beyond the door. She instantly thought he sounded
angry.

When she
entered his office, she could tell Mr. Carlson was angry. It was different than
last time when he'd been more frustrated. His dark-blond hair had spikes
clumped in it as though he'd been pulling the short strands and his glasses
were off with his navy blue eyes looking intense. His suit jacket and tie were
gone and his Armani gray-striped dress shirt was open at the collar with the
sleeves rolled up his toned forearms.

A silly
feeling of foreboding stole over her and she glanced at the red folder of
papers held so tightly in his hand that his knuckles were white.
The
Langston report.
"Do you know how many typos and mistakes are in this
proposal?" he demanded.

She was
startled at the accusation, and the cause, because while she did work on the
details of that proposal, other people typed it. But suddenly understanding
came over her, followed by a deliciously wicked feeling.
This was like role
play.
Mr. Carlson wanted something to punish her for.

"Oh,
I’m so sorry, sir," she said, immediately playing along.

"That
is just not good enough," he responded with a stern voice, and then he
slapped the folder on his desk, making her jump, while he turned and grabbed
his high-backed desk chair. He tugged the chair to the side of his desk as she
backed away hesitantly, while apologizing to him.

"
Come
here," he demanded, then he didn’t wait for her. He strode forward,
grabbed her wrist and he pulled her to the chair. It was then she saw the oval-shaped
wooden paddle sitting beside five, one-hundred dollar bills. He'd said
paddle,
not spank.

"Oh
no!" She practically shrieked at the same moment he sat while using his
superior strength to topple her onto his lap. Her belly hit his hard thighs and
her heels went flying. Her shorter skirt completely lost any battle at modesty
and she knew her garter belts, the lacy tops of her stockings, and the naked
bottom curves of her ass had to be showing, while embarrassment turned her
cheeks flaming red.

"Damn,"
Mr. Carlson uttered, and by the tone of his voice she knew he was taken aback
by seeing her undergarments and nude butt cheeks. Instinct had her reaching
backward, trying to pull her skirt down, as shame crawled over her.

"I'm
sorry," she gasped. "I shouldn't have worn this ..."

His
voice interrupted her attempted apology. "It's perfect," he uttered.

She
wasn’t as certain about that, because she felt so exposed, as her apologies
stalled. However, her pussy was certain about loving the entire thing. It was
throbbing with deeper and more compelling aches.

Mr.
Carlson's hand clamped over her waist and the small of her back, then he
shifted his thighs upward and suddenly her body tilted forward even more with
her head falling closer to the carpet and her butt rising higher.

"Oh!"
she yelped as cool air washed over more of her buttocks, exposed with only a
thong on.

But
before she became truly more embarrassed by this, Mr. Carlson said,
"You're going to have to learn, Miss Brown."

Slap!
Slap!
Tess couldn't even cry out she was
so surprised at the stinging sensations smacking across her ass as she saw
stars bursting behind her clenched eyelids. Then she sucked air inward from her
silent scream.
Slap! Slap!  

"
Oh God," she cried, while the loud smacking sound of
the wooden paddle hitting her naked ass filled her ears.
Ouch!

Slap!
Slap!
"You're such a bad, bad
girl." Mr. Carlson's voice was thick with censure.

"Oh!
Ow!"

Slap.

"Owie!"

Slap.

"Oh!
Oh!"

Slap.
 

"Ow,
ow!"

Slap. 

"Bad."
Smack.
"Bad."
Smack.
"Bad, girl!"

Ohmygod,
her butt hurt as the paddle spanked across each of her buttocks over and over
making her wail with tears coming out of her eyes, while she kicked her legs
and she tried to squirm away from the paddling. But Mr. Carlson's strength held
her in place with her ass held high to receive each swat.

"Are
you going to do better?"

Slap.

"Yes,
yes!" Tess wailed.

Slap.

"Are
you certain?"

Slap.

"Yes!
Yes! I'll be good, I swear," she cried. The spanking stopped and she lay
panting with her ass stinging and burning, while tears trailed over her
forehead from her head hung low. Her butt really hurt.

"Next
time, Miss Brown, if you are not a good girl you are going to let me tie you
down over this chair and paddle your bottom."

She was
blank, trying to understand. "Ah, what?" she started to say.

Suddenly,
the paddle cracked across her buttocks. "Ow!" she wailed. "No!
Please! No!"

"I
said you're going to let me tie you. Yes?"

Slap.
Slap.

"Ow!
Yes! Yes, sir, anything!" she cried, writhing her bottom beneath the
spanking paddle.

"For
four hundred dollars," Mr. Carlson declared sharply.

Slap.
Slap.

"Yes!
Yes!" She might have agreed too just about anything.

Slap.
Slap.

"Naughty
girls need to learn," Mr. Carlson said.

"I
will, sir! Please, please don't spank me anymore," she begged.

Slap.
Slap.

Then out
of nowhere the paddling stopped and Mr. Carlson moved his legs just enough so that
she slid onto the floor. She barely caught the fall on her hands and knees. She
couldn't believe she could feel more humiliated, kneeling at Mr. Carlson's feet
with her skirt hiked up and her bare ass cheeks showing.

"I
expect better work, Miss Brown," he said sternly. Then he stepped over her
and she saw his Italian loafers head toward the door. "I won't be back
until tomorrow. Rearrange my schedule."

Shame
itched over every inch of her as she saw the office door open and close. She
couldn't believe the entire position she was in. It was-It was ...

"Slavish."
She sniffled. "Objectified,” she whined.

But
oh
God, her pussy was
so
hot. The heated aches quivered down her thighs as
she knelt on the floor of Mr. Carlson's office on her hands and knees. Her
skirt was hiked up so far she might as well not have it on. Each of her
buttocks stung.

And she
was so bad, she dug her hand into her panties right there. Her knees inched
wider on the carpet as she moaned. She should get up — but she was too horny.

"Oh
yeah.
Oh
yeah." She rubbed her clit with her ass undulating. She
was such a bad, bad girl.

T
hree
days later, Mr. Carlson text her on Saturday afternoon completely surprising
her because it was the weekend. Of course they had worked weekends before, but
never like this, without notice. Just seeing the text was from her boss sent a
thrill rushing through her. She hadn’t been able to get the last office
spanking off her mind. It had been so over-the-top hot! But what riveted her
attention even more was Mr. Carlson saying he was going to tie her up next
time.

"Oh
god, he'd spanked me until I agreed," Tess murmured, biting nervously at
her bottom lip as she stared at her Blackberry. She'd been lounging in her
apartment thinking about going shopping later with the five hundred dollars
she'd earned. There was a new Michael Kors dress in Saks display window begging
her to try it on every time she walked past. And now she could afford it.

She
stared at her Blackberry not answering it yet, because she knew if she even
looked at the message she would be committed to follow through.

"It
could be real work," she muttered.

Yet
somehow she knew it wasn't. Being tied up would involve a lot of trust. Tess
squirmed on her couch, knowing she was already so aroused just thinking about
it that her vibrator was calling 9-1-1 from her bedroom. Then she pressed
receive on her phone.

"The
last two memos you transcribed for me were riddled with mistakes. I expect you
to honor your word. My office. One hour. Wear the appropriate attire."

Tess
released the breath she’d held as her entire body quivered. She wasn’t certain
she could keep her aroused state from Mr. Carlson this time. "I might
cream my panties before this is over." She sat straighter to text her boss
back.

"Yes,
sir. I am very sorry. I will be there in one hour."

She
nearly backed out several times before she arrived at the darken office wearing
a Juicy Couture blue silk, mini-dress with copper-colored stilettos. Underneath
she wore a red lace demi-bra and thong. The tiny thong was set under a
leopard-print hip-hugger garter belt, holding up lace-topped, black stockings.
She set her purse and Blackberry on her desk, before she slowly approached Mr.
Carlson’s closed office door. Was she really going to do this?

She
nervously smoothed down the silk of her dress. It was so short! Whatever possessed
her to wear such ... well, frankly, slutty clothes? She did trust Mr. Carlson,
but to be tied up, and then spanked was
so
over-the-top naughty ... it
had her pussy throbbing like the rowdy beat in a popular nightclub.

She
started to turn away from the door but she wasn’t used to wearing five-inch
stilettos and she began to lose her balance, which knocked her hand into the
door, as she caught herself. Oh no! That sounded like a loud knock on the door.

"Enter."

Mr.
Carlson obviously heard it! Now she had to go in. But before she’d gotten brave
enough to put her hand on the door handle, the polished cherry wood door opened
before her widening eyes.

"There
you are," Mr. Carlson snapped, and he looked militant. "You are
late," he stated with a severe tone.

"I'm
sorry ..." she began with a sheepish voice. However, Mr. Carlson just
ignored her words and he grabbed her wrist to tug her, tottering on her high
heels, into his office.

"I'll
just deduct one hundred dollars for being late, so you will do this for three
hundred dollars," he said, pulling her over to his high-backed chair in
front of his desk.

Three
hundred?
Tess felt bereaved at the loss of
money on top of being hyper-anxious.

"Isn't
that correct?" he demanded, stopping by the chair, where she saw a thick
black rope hung over the high back.

Her eyes
widened, as she mumbled, "Y-Yes, sir."

"And,"
he continued, jerking her wrist as he looked her body up and down. "You
look like a slut dress like that."

Tess
felt embarrassment flushing her cheeks, while her chest got tight with
humiliation, at the same time her pussy throbbed harder with arousal. How could
she feel more aroused by feeling so lowly?

"I-I,"
she stuttered.

"I
can see the tops of your stockings that dress is so short," Mr. Carlson
accused. "Get up on that chair now!" he ordered, before she could
speak.

Then she
was kneeling on the chair. For balance, her hands grabbed the back. "I'm
sorry," she whined.

"That’s
not good enough," he barked right back at her, startling her. "I will
take another one-hundred dollars off for those clothes, which Miss Brown, make
you into a slut."

"But
..." she started too exclaimed. That left only two-hundred dollars.

"Quiet!"
he snapped, and she gulped her mouth closed. "Now
bend
over,"
he ordered.

Tess
wasn't sure she would have bent over the back of the chair, because she knew
her dress was so short the minute she did her bottom would be bared with only a
small red strip in the crease and covering her pussy from view. Somehow she'd
thought "tied up" meant her wrists behind her back or something, not
tied over a chair, besides the fact she was staring straight at a long black
riding crop laying on top of Mr. Carlson's desk. It had a square flap on the
end of it, and she just knew it was going to sting worse than his hand or the
paddle he'd used before.

"You're
not going to whip me with that are you?" she asked with an exclamation, at
the same time he was tugging one of her wrists over the back of the chair,
making her body bend to follow.

"I
won't unless you give me your permission," he said, while winding the
thick rope over her wrist.

She was
so relieved that she barely noticed him grasping her other wrist and tying it.
"Well I don't!" she cried. "I'm never giving permission for that
wicked looking whip."

When she
exclaimed, she tried to raise her hands, and then she realized both her wrists
were tied tightly to the bottom of the chair. She couldn't move them, even an
inch. She tugged on the bonds, while feeling cooler air wash over her exposed
buttocks. She tried to raise her head to look up at Mr. Carlson, but she
couldn’t lift it any further than his waist as he stood in front of her.

She had
a glaring look at the front of his pants and the hard ridge he was sporting
under the expensive fabric. Mr. Carlson's hard cock made her quite alarmed, in
the helpless position she was in, and she knew he had to be looking straight
down her exposed cleavage, bent over as she was. Her pussy ached so deeply that
she squeezed her inner thighs together, massaging her off-the-charts arousal.
She barely held back her moan.

"This
outfit, Miss Brown, is what a very bad girl wears."

Tess'
bottom lip trembled as Mr. Carlson slowly moved around her. He had to be
looking over every inch of her, and his breath sucked inwardly when he walked
behind her. Heat rode up her entire body with embarrassment and it made her
bottom squirm.

"Hell,
you are
so
naughty," his voice expelled. Her wrists tugged at the
restraints, needing release, but she was bound firmly in place. "You're
begging for a spanking wiggling your bare ass at me, aren't you?" he asked
with uttered disapproval.

"No!"
she exclaimed. "It's just ... You just ... You can
see
," she
sputtered, looking down at the carpet, in absolute mortification, past her
bound wrists.

"I
can see what a naughty, naughty girl you are and how much you need
discipline," he declared.

"Please
don't spank me hard," she pleaded, unable to hold her begging back.

"You
won't learn with a weak spanking, will you?" he asked, without any shreds
of sympathy, making her ass tremble with anticipation.

Then the
first smack struck her buttocks and she yelped with surprise as much as feeling
the sting of his palm.
Smack. Smack..

"Oh!
Oh!" she cried.

She swung
her bottom back and forth, trying to avoid Mr. Carlson's spanking hand.
Smack.
Smack.
But each way she swayed her ass, he still managed to swat his hand
against her flinching buttocks.
Smack. Smack.

"Oh!
Ow! Oh! Ow!" Tess tugged hard against the ropes holding her hands with the
need to try to cover her abused bottom.
Smack. Smack.

"Bad."
Smack.

"Bad."
Smack.

"Slutty
girl!"
Smack. Smack.

"Naughty,
bad girl!"
Smack. Smack!

"Ow!
Oww! I’ll be a good girl. Please,
please
I promise to be good!" she
cried.

She
jerked hard against the ropes holding her wrists with tears in her eyes as she
gasped, while looking back. She could twist just enough to see Mr. Carlson bent
slightly over with his hand whipping forward, then repeating as it slapped
against her helpless ass.

Smack.
Smack!

It burned
and stung so bad — he was really spanking deep, until his slapping fingers
nearly hit her pussy. Each smack raised her butt upward with stinging recoils
that in turn squeezed her inner thighs tightly together ... then released them
... then drew her thighs tight again.

Smack.
Smack.

"Ow!
Oww!" she bawled, but the contrast between the biting spank and tightening
on her clit with surging arousal was making her pant.

Oh God,
she wanted to rub her pussy so bad.

She almost
begged Mr. Carlson to do it ... then she blanched at what she'd nearly done. At
the same moment, she was practically making herself come with the inward
clenching and unclenching of her thighs.

Suddenly,
the spanking stopped and she was left panting with her exposed ass cheeks
burning and her pussy throbbing so hard she was on the edge of a climax.

God,
if he'd just spank her a little more she'd come!

"I
will give you one-hundred dollars extra if you let me whip your naked ass five
times with the riding crop."

"Yes!"
she cried, she needed to come so badly she could barely think of anything else.
But her bound wrists kept her from rubbing her slick needy pussy.

Mr.
Carlson made a surprised sound and she saw the crop lifting off his desk, then
she realized what she had agreed to. But it was too late!

Swat!
Swat!

She
screeched, falling forward over the back of the chair, trying to escape the
sting from the lashing whip. Her knees churned on the back of the chair, but
she couldn’t crawl up it.

Swat!
Swat!

She
yelped, bawled, and screamed at once, but then the hot throbbing desire in her
clit tightened and tightened more ... it squeezed.

Swat!
Swat!
"Oh! Ow, ow!
Mmm
. Ow,
mmm!
"
she groaned, coming so hard it shuddered into her thighs.

"Bad!
Bad!
Bad
girl!" Mr. Carlson groaned and he swatted her ass five more
times with the cropped, while she alternately screeched and moaned.

Then she
must have lost track of time, because her wrists were untied and she hung over
the back of the chair on her belly, when she heard,

"And
there is an extra one-hundred on my desk for those added five whips, Miss
Brown."

Tess
looked up to see Mr. Carlson rushing out of the office with the door swinging
shut decisively behind him. He was in such a hurry, she just knew he was
speeding home to his wife with his hard erection, while her eyes turned to look
at the one-hundred dollar bills spread over his desk. Her ass had never hurt
more, but she was ready to come again, and she dug her fingers into her thong
stroking her sopping pussy.

"
Oh,
mm mm."

She
bucked on the chair, spreading her knees and rubbing her clit harder. The
motion made the chair swivel back and forth as she rubbed hard circles on her
clit. The juices from her first climax were messy around her sex, and her thong
was so tight it was hard to keep her hand inside to work her pussy. She grabbed
the edges of her thong pulling hard, until she got the tight silk down over her
butt. Now her pussy lips were free to plunge her fingers into as she balanced
over the back of the chair.

"Oh
yeah, yeah. Oh, oh. God," she groaned. Her climax was rising hot and
heavy. She wanted something inside her so bad. A big hot cock mesmerized her
thoughts as she tried to get her fingers inside her. She just barely got them
inserted ... wiggling on them.

"Oh,
bad, bad girl," she moaned.

Tess
thrust her fingers in and out, making a sloppy sound as the burning cheeks of
her ass swayed. "Oh yeah, bad, bad. Oh! Ah!" She came so hard she
couldn’t believe it was the second time in a row, as she panted.

Minutes
later, she became more aware of her position, kneeling on her boss' desk chair
with her panties pulled down her thighs. She couldn't believe this was happening,
but her mind wouldn’t let her focus on that, all it focused on was, need ...
and
more
.