Spanking Ms. Whitman (Play at Work) (4 page)

“What do you see there?”

Horror gripped her. “The wall, and the…the door to your bathroom.”

“And can you tell me whether you see anything odd about it?”

Her stomach churned—it stood ajar. In her hurry to return before he caught her, she had fallen into her own trap. “It isn’t closed.”

“Perhaps you can tell me why? Hands at your sides.” The snapped comment sent her hands, which had been creeping up to her middle, flying back to their previous position. Heat filled her cheeks and she closed her eyes.

“I left it that way when I came out.”

“So, you left the chair, despite my specific instructions not to?”

“Yes, sir.” She winced at the squeaky note in her voice.

He grasped her hips and spun her to face him again. Mona gasped in shock at the heat of his touch, burning through her skirt. She kept her gaze fixed on his trouser knees. She would be bent over them in a moment or two and wiggled at the wetness soaking her panties, wanting to rub against him. Anticipation threatened to overwhelm her.

“Look at me.”

His expression contained all she’d feared to see. Disapproval, sadness?

“Mona, did you understand me when I asked you to stay seated until I returned?”

“Yes.” Her voice a whisper.

“And did you not agree to do so?”

Tears flooded her vision, and she squinted to hold them back. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t force any words out.

“I’d like an answer. Please.”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I agreed…sir.”

“Yet, you did not stay in the chair did you?” He stared past her. “No, no more words, I don’t know if I can believe what you say to me.”

The tears slipped free and ran down her cheeks. He looked so serious, so stern… The confidence she’d felt when she suggested the spanking ebbed, replaced by the real emotions he stirred in her. The desire to please him had pushed her to work harder every day, to succeed in the company and maybe attract his notice. The late arrivals…perhaps that had been about getting him to see her, too. Although maybe just a bit immature.

“Please…” Her soul ached with remorse.

He shook his head. Perhaps he had changed his mind? He wouldn’t really spank her… After all, wouldn’t he rather enjoy his hobby with, say, Sexy Sonia from accounting? Or Luscious Raquel from downstairs? The building teemed with nubile temptresses, each of whom seemed determined to capture the attentions of Mr. Randolph Marks.

Her distress and desert dry throat made it difficult to express her sentiments. He knew she’d been in the bathroom, could she tell him what she’d seen? No, she couldn’t push it that far.
Oh and I snooped in your closet while I was in there.
No, bad plan. “Mr. Marks, I am so sorry.”

“Are you?” His deep timbre rolled over her. Her heart’s pounding rhythm slammed against her breastbone and the damp strip of panties between her thighs clung to her swollen labia.

“Oh, but I...
.
” His narrowed eyes warned her to stop.

“As I was about to say,” he paused again, and she bit her lip and tasted copper, the sting a distraction from his words, “I don’t know that you are sorry. Yet.”

Dizziness, spinning darkness threatened to take her away. She locked her knees, willing her legs to hold her upright. Nights of fantasy, imagining a moment very like this. She held his gaze, a rabbit to his wolf, but willing prey. Whatever happened now, she would never have to imagine again. He would have fulfilled her most lurid desires, and she would accept fate’s gift with gratitude. It might have to last a lifetime.

She couldn’t read his expression. Was the punishment merely a spanking for an employee who had insisted on a ludicrous penalty for misbehavior that happened to fit in with something he did from time to time—or more often, who knew? Or maybe the stars had aligned in her favor and it might mean just a little more. She searched his face again, the even, masculine features with the straight Roman nose, clean-shaven cheeks she longed to touch, the few gray hairs in the ebony strands brushed straight back from his forehead. No, she couldn’t read his mind. Maybe she didn’t have to. If ever there were a time to stay in the moment, not worry about tomorrow or this afternoon, she experienced it now.

Throwing herself off the cliff, she turned her attention to his body, the tension in his shoulders under the jacket, his expertly-knotted tie. The shirtfront that hid the answer to a question she’d wondered…hairy chest or smooth? As her eyes fixed on his waist and lower to where his open jacket revealed his belt, heat flooded her cheeks.

Will he pull it off and use it on me?

Chapter Four

Randolph let her wait, another moment, two. A drop of sweat on her upper lip and a tremble to the lower, her ocean blue eyes shimmering with tears. He wanted her keyed up, but not so much she would panic when he began.

With a shove of his foot, he rolled his chair back and then widened his legs, making room. “Stand here, and turn away from me.”

Mona sidled between his knees and the desk, holding her skirt close and not touching him at all. He smiled—she couldn’t see it anyway—even his controlled emotions prey to the excitement the situation engendered. Her rigid back and closed fists betrayed how difficult she found the situation. He watched the pulse jump at the side of her neck—would she leap away if he lapped at the sweet skin there, nipped, sucked? Another way to mark her, but first…

“So you have never been spanked before.”

“N-no. I told you already.”
Cheeky.
He trailed a finger down her spine, enjoying her shiver at his touch.

Her hands clenched and unclenched; he would stop that soon enough, help her into a calm space.

“Lie across my lap.” Her doing so would confirm her consent, maybe even make her more comfortable. He shifted to accommodate her as she laid her abdomen over his knees and let her head drop toward the floor, bracing herself on her hands. Her full breasts pressed against the side of his leg, her nipples as sharp as he’d hoped. So many parts of them connecting, through layers of fabric like woven walls. But he could remove those barriers, if he dared, if she asked him to.

“Like this?” A tremble in her voice, but her body held steady, no shake at all.

She trusted him to guide her through the experience; he must not let his excitement betray them both. “Yes.”

He allowed another long moment to pass, to give her time to absorb her position, her vulnerability. His cock pressed its curving stiffness against her side, but she made no comment, perhaps too afraid of what came next.

Mona turned her head. “Are you going to do it now?”

“In a moment.” He smoothed her hair over her shoulder, feeling the tension there. He stroked down her cotton-sheathed back, over the slight bump of her bra strap, and as far as the doubled over waistband of her skirt. She rolled it up? Making the skirt shorter, like a schoolgirl. How long was it ordinarily? Resting his forearm on her waist to hold her steady, he cupped her ass. Perfect, rounded globes with little give under his questing touch. He wanted more immediate contact with her pale, hidden skin.

A rear zipper on the garment, he noted with approval. He took the tab between his thumb and forefinger and slid it down the teeth. “Lift your hips, so we can get this off. You’d never feel a thing through it.” She braced her toes against the floor and he tugged the skirt down as far as her knees, then glided his hands up her thighs, back to her behind..

A low moan garnered his attention, as he surveyed the thin, white cotton panties, bikinis, but plain, unadorned, and almost transparent. She would feel his discipline through these. She wriggled when he stroked her, running his hand over and over the curving cheeks admiring her waist’s small size compared to the sensual flare of her hips.

“How many days would you say you have been late for work—lately.” He continued to rub her ass, warming and readying her.

“I don’t know.” A squeak at the end reflected her distress, but she didn’t struggle.

“You don’t know. Well, I do. And I have a way for you to find out. Would you like me to tell you how?

She didn’t reply for a moment. Lying across his lap, head hanging down, his hand circling on her soon-to-be-reddened bottom—body tight with tension. He could wait.

Finally, “Yes, I guess…”

She would learn. He cupped his palm, fingers held together, and smacked the side of her left cheek. “I beg your pardon?”

She gasped when the thud sounded, although he hadn’t hit very hard. “I said, yes, I would like to know…sir.”

Funny, she’d always called him sir, anyway. Or Mr. Marks. Most of his employees were more casual with him, especially the managerial staff. But she’d always maintained a certain formality between them that appealed to him. He spanked the other side, and followed with a quick flurry across her clenching cheeks. Though the panties hid her skin, he would remove them before he progressed too much further, for the joy of watching her pale skin pink then redden under his slapping caress. He smiled as she bounced but didn’t attempt to pull away. The instant the spanking had begun, her breath had shortened, and after a dozen smacks, she shuddered.

He stopped and circled again, relieving the sting. “Mona, do you agree to let me provide the appropriate punishment—appropriate in my eyes—for your tardiness?”

“Yes.” He waited, trying to keep his attention focused on her and not on the rock hard cock he wanted to yank out and fuck her with. In his years as a Dom, rarely had his control been so tried. Of course, he’d never waited years for a woman he wanted before, either. “Yes, sir.”

“Very well.” Her muscles tensed under his restraining arm. She expected more spanking. He would be pleased to accommodate her.

He urged her legs apart and reached between, smiling at the dampness he discovered. “What’s this?” Her panties were soaked.

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

“Oh, it’s more than nothing, Ms. Whitman.” He pinched her lips together through the fabric and she jumped. “I think you like what I’m doing to you. In fact, I’m wondering what else you might like me to do.’

He leaned back in his chair and tugged her into a sitting position, straddling his lap, facing him. Wisps of hair had escaped her ponytail and her cheeks were hectic with color. Her parted lips were swollen as if from kissing—a very good idea, kissing—and her breathing a bit ragged. His cock twitched against her pussy. He stroked her hair, enjoying her slight shudder at his touch, and lifted her chin, focused on tasting her soft, tempting lips.

His phone buzzed.
Damn!
. “Mr. Marks, you have to be at your attorney’s office in twenty minutes.” Shit.
I should have cancelled that.

All the way across town. A struggle between his Dom side and his business brain ensued, ending in a draw. He’d go—he had to. But when he got back…

“Just a moment.” He pressed the intercom button. “Thank you, Estelle. Would you please call Edward and tell him I may be a few minutes late, but I will be there soon?”

“Right away, Mr. Marks.”

He couldn’t suppress his sigh, but they weren’t done here. The interruption had reminded him despite his soundproof walls and locked door, the rest of the staff—and clients!—lurked only feet away…if this went on much longer, there would be talk. Not good for either of them, since he didn’t yet know if this encounter was a one-time affair or the start of something more. Wagging tongues might even cause her to retreat before he could convince her of his daring and erotic plan.

“Miss Whitman—Mona—I have to attend to a legal matter, as you heard.”

She tugged her skirt back in place, looking mussed and edible. “Yes.”

“But I don’t believe we’re done here.”

“No, sir. I don’t think so either.”

“I would like you to come back here at the end of the day so we can continue our meeting.”

“Okay…”

He couldn’t read her expression. Maybe he’d misread her reaction and she went along with the spanking to keep from being fired. No! He’d assured her otherwise. An unwelcome thought entered his mind. Had he left the bathroom closet unlocked? Confusion reigned. He’d have to think about it while he drove to his meeting, because he didn’t want to take the time to deal with it now, he’d just lock his outer door.

Things between he and the lovely Miss Whitman might get personal, and the less the office people knew the better—at least for now. She bent to adjust her shoe and he couldn’t resist one quick swat on her too-tempting behind. When she jumped and spun back toward him, he grinned, delighted to see a quirk at the corner of her lips before he ushered her out to the hallway.

They might be very well suited indeed.

Chapter Five

Mona slipped out down the hallway to the ladies’ room where she glanced in the mirror.
This will never do.
A full day of ordinary, banal work loomed ahead of her, and her reflection showed her a woman with mussed hair, flushed cheeks, and clothing twisted. In short, total disarray.
I look like I’ve been having sex.
She giggled and dampened a paper towel with cool water to apply to her heated face, finger combing her hair. She paused, remembering his blunt fingers rubbing over her hair. She’d wanted to purr like a contented cat.