The Boss (15 page)

His hard belly was smacking onto my bottom, his cock driving deep, helping to take me high as I thought of what he had done to me, taken down my knickers and spanked me, punished me, then made me bend over and fucked me too. I'd asked for it, and I'd got it, punished the way I so thoroughly deserved, and by my stern, suited boss, spanked and fucked with my bare bum sticking out from my smart little office suit and lowered panties.

I came, and I screamed, unable to hold myself back due to the sheer power of my orgasm. Like all the best, it was as much in my head as my body, the thought of
what Stephen had done to me and the motion of his cock inside me, still pumping deep and hard as I wriggled and shook and stamped my way through the most glorious climax. He even gave my bottom a last hard smack at the perfect moment, adding a final touch to my ecstasy as I remembered how I'd been spanked.

Spent, I collapsed down onto my knees, my bottom still raised and open. He'd slipped out, and I stayed as I was, completely open to him as he finished himself off all over my smacked cheeks.

ALL MY EFFORT
and I'd got exactly nothing for it. Well, I'd got a smacked bottom, but that wasn't strictly speaking relevant.

In fact I'd done more harm than good, as I quickly discovered. Mr Phelps and his cronies where immensely impressed both with the rapid repair to the camera system and the low cost of doing so, leaving Black Knight Securities very much in favour. Only then did I discover that we had not one but two rivals for the contract, the firm who'd supplied the small existing system and were offering to expand it and another who wanted to put in something very much like our own but apparently less cost effective.

Stephen was well pleased with himself, and with me, both for my willing assistance and my desire to indulge him in his little perversion. I was rather less happy, both because of the failure of my plot and because I could feel that his little perversion was rapidly becoming mine. Before, I'd been amazed at how I'd accepted that I would let somebody spank me, but there had been no denying my enjoyment and despite my mixed feelings it had been intensely erotic from the start. I'd not only been given a painful punishment and still got off on it, but I'd wanted more almost before my bum had cooled down. I was in danger of growing addicted.

I could just imagine what it would be like having to persuade people to spank me. Some I wouldn't even be
able to ask. Dave, for instance, because it quite simply wouldn't work. Steve I could ask, and I knew he'd do it. He'd also laugh at me, but I had a nasty suspicion that would just turn me on even more. Fortunately Stephen seemed more than capable of looking after my needs, and very keen to do so.

He was extremely attentive, and also friendly, taking me to lunch and dinner several times during the week and always talkative and considerate. I'd been worried that he might treat me badly after I'd given in to him so completely and in a way that left no doubt whatsoever that he was my boss in more than just the employment sense. Nothing could have been further from the truth. He was more intimate, kissing me and allowing his hand to stray to my bottom, but not in front of other people, while he was a great deal more polite and less arrogant than before. On the Wednesday morning he even made me coffee.

I also got my third spanking, just a playful one, applied to the seat of my skirt and supposedly for making a spelling mistake in a letter I'd typed, but it made it very clear how things stood between us. As long as there was to be physical intimacy there would be spankings, and I knew that for all my low-key resentment of what he was doing to me I could not resist. That resentment would have been the only problem in my life had it not been for the cameras.

My plan had failed and I was completely stuck for what to do next. Further sabotage was clearly pointless, as the best I could do would be to ensure the contract went to another firm. If it did, then I'd have no chance of changing anything at all, and no inside knowledge of how the system worked either. Possibly if I could destroy the entire system it might have some effect,
but I didn't have the time or the ability, while the specialist knowledge needed would surely mean I got caught.

It would have been so easy to just give in. There were lots of good reasons. For a start my relationship with Stephen and work, which together were taking up all my time and keeping me out of mischief. Then there was the security the cameras undoubtedly provided, even if Hockford was short of maniacs, and the fact that my face wasn't going to be recognised either. Lastly I could warn people, and if that meant everybody had to behave themselves perhaps it really wasn't the end of the world after all.

I still didn't feel right about it. Some of the things I'd done in the past now seemed pretty unacceptable, and I could understand people wanting to put a stop to it. I could also understand the feelings of boredom and dissatisfaction which had led me to do them in the first place, and nothing was being done to remedy that except the same old platitudes. Other things were just too trivial, or offences only to those with stuffy, old-fashioned morals, but authoritarianism seemed to be all the rage.

Then there was Mr Phelps and his colleagues, who came round occasionally. They were unbearably smug and superior about the whole thing, also immensely self-satisfied about all the poor sods they were going to land with criminal records for really very little, and even talking openly about the revenue they expected to raise from the fines. When he joked about taking an expenses-paid trip to Korea on the money, I'd have gladly planted my shoe up his saggy backside, and I had no regrets whatsoever about burning his car.

I went back to brooding, generally late at night
when I could lie in bed and let my mind run onto increasingly impractical schemes, such as swapping all the images on the database around so that every scally was automatically identified as Mr Phelps, or all my friends came up as the various dogs and cats the system was still recording. Sadly neither would have been more than a temporary solution, while the search for the perpetrator would have led straight to me. I couldn't get into Stephen's private editing facility either, as I didn't know the password, but even that would only have been a partial solution.

On the Friday I got what I'd been expecting all week: an invitation to Stephen's flat. It was for the Saturday evening, and for me it felt like a confirmation that our relationship amounted to more than just a boss taking advantage of his employee. Had he merely wanted me physically he could have just kept me at the office, while his invitation also removed my sneaking suspicion that he might actually be married.

I accepted, although in ways it seemed like the final surrender, especially if he expected me to be faithful. Playing the field is fun, and I never did understand all this bullshit about my body being a temple at which only my one true love should be permitted to worship. Sex is special, sure, but for me it's always been something I do with my friends if I feel like it. I like the way Steve cajoles me into sucking his cock, and I like the way that boys like Pete and Dave get so hot over me they end up grovelling for the slightest taste of honey. I hadn't forgotten about Martin either, but I'd assumed that for whatever reason he was no longer interested in me. Inevitably that stung my pride, but I tried to tell myself it was just as well, because if my relationship with Stephen was going to get serious then the fewer
complications the better. It was still a pity, because Martin was even bigger and stronger than Stephen; he also seemed to like my bum, and it would have been very interesting indeed to see how he reacted to my new-found love of spanking.

When I saw Sam with Billy in the High Street on the way home it was Martin I immediately thought of, only for my curiosity to take a new turn as Steve appeared and accepted two large bags. They'd seen me, Sam giving me a teasing smile as she looked my skirt suit up and down.

‘Hey, Fizz. How's Miss Goodie-Two-Shoes?'

I stuck my tongue out at her and turned to Steve.

‘What are you up to?'

There was no hesitation at all in his reply.

‘It's great. Billy's been getting me stuff from the base. They have this shop, right, with all American gear, really cheap.'

‘You're going to get locked up one day, Steve, or shot.'

‘No, it's all above board, so long as I don't take the piss. Isn't that right, Billy?'

‘Sure. Once we've bought it we can sell it to who we like, and why not? It's our private property, ain't it?'

‘If you say so. So you're not doing Calais any more, Steve?'

‘Yeah, I'm doing Calais, this is just a bit extra. I'm going tomorrow if you want to come?'

‘I can't. I'm going out.'

‘Oh yeah?'

I knew if I admitted to the details they'd be taking the piss out of me for months. Then again it had to come out sometime.

‘Yes, with Stephen English, from where I work.'

‘Your boss?'

Sam laughed.

‘Fizz is knobbing her boss!'

I had immediately gone scarlet, not because of the sex but because of the spanking, which was something they very definitely were not going to find out about. Sam saw immediately and I got the inevitable reaction.

‘Oh my, it's not serious, is it? Not you, Fizz?'

‘Yes it is, sort of, and who are you to talk? You two go everywhere together now.'

‘Sure, but my man's not a suit.'

She'd put her arms around Billy as she spoke, and for once I couldn't find an answer so I contented myself with sticking my tongue out at her again. She just laughed, but there was a serious note in Billy's voice as he posed a question, almost accusing.

‘I thought you were hot on Martin?'

I shrugged, immediately defensive.

‘I like Martin, yes, but he hasn't called me or anything.'

‘He's in Afghanistan.'

‘Oh . . . well, he might have said something.'

‘He's not allowed to. What am I going to tell him when he comes back? He thinks he's got the second sweetest girl in the UK waiting for him when he comes back and you're off with some guy from your work.'

‘It's not like that. Martin and I only went out once . . . well, twice, sort of, and he didn't ask me about being his girlfriend or anything.'

‘You fucked, didn't you? Don't that make it plain enough?'

‘No it does not! I'm sorry, but just because I choose to go with a man does not make me his fucking property!'

He was going to reply, but Sam got in first.

‘Leave her, Billy. She didn't know.'

‘Yeah, but . . .'

I wasn't leaving it, not like that.

‘Look, when Martin comes back you can tell him this. I like him, and I would like to go out with him again sometime, but I am no man's property, and if he thinks I'm his he can go and fuck himself with his oversized prick. Got that?'

Billy looked shocked, maybe not used to women a foot shorter than him shouting at him in the street, and there was no mistaking the implication of his answer.

‘Yeah, I got that, and I'll be sure to tell Martin, just like it is.'

I'd have said more, but Sam was already hustling him away and I was left fuming in the street. Steve looked bemused by the entire incident, and spoke as soon as Billy was out of earshot.

‘What's his problem? Anyone would think he's the one you cheated.'

‘I didn't cheat anybody! Jesus, Steve, not you too . . .'

‘Hey, be cool, Fizz, I didn't mean it like that. I just don't see what his beef is.'

‘I suppose he thinks he's sticking up for his mate, but I never said anything about being faithful to Martin, and he didn't ask. Now even if Martin was OK with me Billy's going to fuck it up. Bastard!'

‘Come and have a jar, yeah?'

He put his arm around my shoulder, not in a sexual way at all, but just affection. I let myself be steered into Buzz Shack, where he put an ice-cold lime mix in front of me. My temper was still running high and I swallowed more than half of it in one, which helped
me to relax at least a little. Steve already seemed to have forgotten the incident, spreading himself out on the bench with his pint of lager in one hand as he spoke.

‘Shame about Calais. It's not the same without you.'

‘Dave will go, won't he?'

‘Thanks a bunch, Fizz.'

‘I'm sorry, anyway. Next time, I promise.'

‘OK. So what's with these cameras? Have they got the go-ahead?'

‘Not yet, but it looks like they will.'

‘So what do I need to know?'

‘Your face will be recorded and memorised, so there'll be a record of you wherever you go. Some of the cameras are small and easily concealed to deliberately catch you out. The bigger models pick up sound too.'

‘What about deliveries and stuff?'

‘I don't know. Who's to say that you didn't get what you're taking from the cash and carry? I don't think even the ZX-5 can zoom in close enough to read the small print on a can of beer, but they might be able to put together a case based on your movements.'

‘Shit. But you're going to know where these things are, right?'

‘Yes, but you know what Town's like. There are only five roads they need to cover.'

‘Yeah, but I was thinking. If you fixed it so the camera on the Bury Road is in the right place I could cut through the country park.'

‘That might work.'

He began to enlarge on his plan, suggesting ways in which I could help him and others cheat the system. At first I felt a little guilt as well as appreciation for his
ideas, but by my second mix I'd decided that I wouldn't be betraying Stephen or Black Knight at all, and I felt no loyalty whatsoever to the council. Just as many cameras would be sold after all, and we weren't being paid by specific results.