By Jay Lawrence & Harry Neptune
It had been a long hard day. The phone never stopped ringing, the email never stopped coming, the coffee machine broke, and someone had dropped a peanut butter sandwich outside my office. Miss Frobisher picked the wrong moment to spill my precious Starbucks latte all over the papers on my desk.
“Oh my God! Oh, Mr Thomas, I’m so sorry! I’ll clear it up straight away…”
Miss Frobisher turned to run for some paper towels and whatever else you clear up spilt coffee with. I sighed a familiar, long-suffering sigh.
“Miss Frobisher, stop right there. Watch.”
Miss Frobisher stopped in the doorway. I picked up the waste bin and swept in the soggy remains.
Miss Frobisher stood aghast.
“But… but… all your work… it… oh no!”
With that last exclamation she turned pale then blushed crimson. Miss Frobisher came from the original catalog of secretaries. She was tall, with blonde hair tied back in a severe regulation bun, and wore horn-rimmed glasses. Her slim figure was encased in a tight pencil skirt, white blouse, and seamed stockings. She was made even taller by four inch heels. Thick bangles circled her wrists.
“Miss Frobisher. You have erred.”
“But it was just an accident! A silly mistake!”
I savored the young woman’s distress. Naughty of me, I know, but it’s a rather fascinating game to play when both partners are willing. My secretary was over-acting like crazy, doing her very best to get a good old-fashioned bare bottom spanking over my desk. Shocked? Don’t be. The world is full of spankers and spankees. I licked my lips as Miss Frobisher’s big blue eyes pleaded with me. I knew that she was begging for correction rather than leniency. I knew that her panties would already be wet, her clit engorged, her nipples hard. It had been several weeks since her last bottom warming.
“You know the routine, Miss Frobisher. Take off your skirt and bend over my desk. Oh, and try not to get latte stains on that nice white blouse.”
“Yes, sir. I really am sorry, sir.”
I believed her. Miss Frobisher is an excellent assistant and I normally have to invent reasons to tan her lovely behind. With unladylike haste, the young woman unzipped her long tight skirt and eased it over her hips and thighs. It rustled to a navy blue puddle about her ankles. I admired the view—long, slender, well-formed legs lightly encased in sheer seamed stockings, admirably topped with the sexiest bottom in New England. At my request, she wore full panties rather than a thong. I like the effect of the fine smooth satin peeling away from her pearly white skin. Slowly, like a striptease artist, Miss Frobisher revealed her beautiful buttocks. I remained as cool and business-like as a man with a monstrous erection can be.
I closed the door.
“Very good, Miss Frobisher. Over my desk.”
Miss Frobisher gave a sob and bent at the waist. Her legs and back were straight, a ninety degree bend putting her into that position. Miss Frobisher works out regularly and is an excellent amateur ballet dancer. Now last week’s languid Sugar Plum Fairy presented her bare pale bottom to my large and heavy hand. Last time I saw her dance I had to go the bathroom before the interval to relieve my pressure. This time the Ice Queen would feel her punishment and my lust in person. Her vulva was just visible between her legs.
“Please, Mr Thomas! Not too hard! Please don’t hurt me!”
The game went on.
“Oh, please, Mr Thomas! I’ll never do it again! I’ll be good! I really will! Oh sir…”
“Enough, Miss Frobisher! Be silent! You have transgressed. You have disappointed me. It pains me to do what I am about to do. But—it is for your own good, Miss Frobisher. For your own good.”
I ran my hand gently over her trembling buttocks. Miss Frobisher whimpered. My erection reached new heights.
“I hope you are ashamed of yourself, Miss Frobisher. Just think what the ballet would say if they could see you now.”
Miss Frobisher looked fearfully over her shoulder at me. A tear squeezed from her eye. This was going to be a very good session.
“Please don’t tell them! Please don’t! I’ll die of shame…”
“You should have thought of that before you spilled coffee all over my work, Miss Frobisher. Look to your front.”
Miss Frobisher turned her head away. I took her slender thighs in my hands and moved them apart ever so slightly. Just enough for her sex to feel the wind of my hand as it landed on her bottom. A drop of moisture ran from her pussy onto her leg. Soon I would be deep inside her hot luscious body. But first she had to be punished. Punished severely. I raised my hand.
“This will hurt me more than it will hurt you, Miss Frobisher.”
The secretary murmured something unintelligible and a delightful tremor shivered through her captive buttocks. My erection strained against my pants like a caged beast. I raised my hand higher and brought it down sharply against the tender under-shelf of Miss Frobisher’s behind.
“Oh!”
I always relish the first smack. The spankee’s pained bleat always sounds so shocked and surprised, no matter how many bun-warming sessions are under her belt. At first, the buttocks feel cool and silky smooth but that soon changes to a fiery warmth.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Miss Frobisher was already getting into the spirit of the spanking. Like a hussy, she ground her slender dancer’s hips against the edge of the desk and moaned softly. Her stiletto heels tapped on the floor as if she were doing an impromptu flamenco.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
The soft ivory skin of my assistant’s bottom was turning a lovely shade of pink. It made me think of rose petals. She continued to buck her rear like a little pony trying to throw its rider off, drumming her feet in a wild orgiastic rhythm. Strands of ice maiden blonde hair began to unwind from her prim hairstyle. Immaculately manicured hands clasped the far side of my desk. My cock throbbed and pulsed in my underwear.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
The slut was fucking the desk, her chastised rear bobbing up and down to the beat of my spanks. I watched her swollen pussy drip like a ripe juicy fruit. She wanted to touch herself but she couldn’t. She’d have to make herself come by dancing the spank fandango over my desk.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
My hand was warm now. That is always a good sign when spanking. It means the spankee is even warmer. Miss Frobisher was a good spankee, ready to take whatever my heavy hand could deliver.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
“Please stop, Mr Thomas! Please stop!”
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Miss Frobisher suddenly pushed herself away from the desk. She darted for the door, her blouse flying above her red behind. I reached out a hand and caught her arm. She cringed, then made as if to strike me.
I stood still, my eyes on hers. Her hand was raised but did not move. She trembled. She sagged in my grasp. Her arm fell. A tear rolled down her cheek.
I pulled Miss Frobisher around the desk to my chair. I sat and pulled her over my knee. Swiftly I pulled both arms behind her back and held her wrists tight. She whimpered. My hand rose. And fell.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
“Oh no, Mr Thomas! Oh no! Oh no! Please!”
Miss Frobisher’s hips bucked under my pinioning arm. I felt dampness on one thigh, breasts on the other.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
My mountainous erection dug into her shoulder. The moment she came I would be inside her.
“Ohhh…”
The secretary’s pleading had taken on a different tone.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
“Mmm… mmm…mmm…”
Miss Frobisher’s lovely hair had come completely undone. She looked quite wild as she threw back her head, her eyes tightly closed, her full moist lips parted. I had a sudden thought.
“That open mouth deserves filling.”
Swiftly, I manhandled my assistant onto her knees, unfastened my pants and thrust the contents into her astonished mouth. She paused for a second, then two indignant blue eyes opened wide above my throbbing rod and Miss Frobisher began to suck. Oh boy, did she suck!
“Mmm…mmm…mmm…”
“Does that taste good, my dear?”
The secretary’s lips were stretched tight around my swollen cock. Her pretty, dishevelled head bobbed up and down, up and down, her hot moist tongue massaging the underside of my shaft. I held myself back for as long as I could, relishing the attractive scene between my thighs. Miss Frobisher’s blouse was partly undone, her high round breasts thrust in their virginal white lace bra. Her scarlet bottom bobbed feverishly, hips grinding in time with her juicy slurps. The minx was on the verge of an orgasm too. My balls were about to burst. Reluctantly, I had to let go. At the very last second, I pulled my manhood from Miss Frobisher’s dewy grasp and spurted hot creamy semen all over my assistant’s face.
“Ooh!”
She looked startled, then her hand strayed to her soaking crotch. I watched with much satisfaction as my secretary rubbed at her pink swollen clit. Cream dripped from her nose and ran in little rivulets down her lovely cheeks. Her eyelashes were coated.
“Make yourself come, Miss Frobisher. Rub that perfect little perfumed cunt!”
My assistant’s eyes opened wide in shock. I had never used such a word in the office. The shock effect worked divinely. Miss Frobisher frigged like a bitch in heat and soon began to squeal.
“Yes! Ooh, yes! Yes!!”
And that was the upshot of another day’s dictation. I hoped Miss Frobisher had learned her lesson. But not too well.
Indulge yourself...
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