Price: $0.99 | Available From: Smashwords | Wordcount: 6672 | Category: Spanking
The evening when her boss called her into his office, then spanked her over his desk was one of the most intense and erotic of Clare's life. But what now? Can she really just forget that it happened and go back to her loving (but cringingly gentle) boyfriend? Or will she be able to admit to her needs and desires and seek out something more?
By the time the end of the work day rolled around, Clare was a nervous wreck. The thought of the approaching confrontation had played on her mind all day, and with it thoughts of seeing Jonathan again, of being alone together in his office again. It was unbearable. Alternately she was seized with arousal and guilt and nerves and shivering anticipation. It was no surprise that when she did eventually step through his door at five fifteen PM she was shivering all over.
Jonathan sat at his desk, signing his way through a pile of documents. Without looking up to see who had entered, he motioned for her to sit, and Clare did so, her knees folding almost of their own accord. She clasped her hands in her lap and tried to still the shaking. She had no reason to be afraid. She knew exactly what she was going to say, and there was little he could do to her that he hadn't done already. All the same, the butterflies would not abate.
It was four or five minutes before Jonathan set aside his work and looked up at her with a hard, piercing gaze. "Clare," he said politely. "What can I do for you?"
She swallowed, the sound clearly audible in the small room.
"I think we need to talk," she said.
"Talk?" said Jonathan, raising an eyebrow. "About what, pray?"
Clare swallowed again. "About last Friday. About... what happened."
The ghost of a smile crossed Jonathan's face, but otherwise he remained impassive. "Of course." He made an encouraging gesture towards her. "Talk then. You have my attention."
Clare paused. She knew what she was planning on saying, but part of her was also overwhelmed completely by the aura of power that seemed to surround him. Despite all her promises to herself, she felt sure that a few words from him would be enough to make her do almost anything.
"Well," she said determinedly. "I've thought about it a lot over the weekend, and I just wanted to say that it can never happen again."
"Oh. And why is that?"
Clare couldn't help but sound apologetic. "Because I have a boyfriend. And I love him. And I'm not going to... to cheat on him."
Jonathan considered her over steepled fingers. He nodded slowly. "Good," he said. "Very noble." And then, his voice taking on an unexpected sharpness, he said, "Stand up."
Clare stood, her limbs moving almost of their own accord, her mind in a whirl. What was he doing? What was she doing obeying him like this?
"Take a step forward," he said, and again she did so without a moment's hesitation. "Now bend over the desk."
At this last command a small gasp escaped her. It felt as if a firework had gone off in her stomach. Part of her was eager, part afraid, and part outraged that he had so plainly ignored her little stand against him. The eagerness was the strongest of the three, and it surprised her. It was powerful as an animal, unyielding and feverish and needy. The thought that she would feel his hand on her again, punishing her, giving her pain and pleasure both at once...
She bent over the desk, arms and hands flat on the surface just as she had done before. Maybe this was a bad idea, but there would be time to think about that later...