Spanking New Secretary’s Kink

"Discipline, an office needs discipline." she insisted.

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It has been about two months since her second interview for the position she now holds. Impressing him in both her secretarial abilities (complemented by immaculate references) and her attire, a stylish business suit embellished by a long narrow display of deep cleavage. At the first round of interviews, she was clearly the best applicant, confused only by an apparent inability to stay long at previous positions. Even without her considerate display, he would undoubtedly have offered her the job.

During this time, the company had been particularly busy. Although they shared an office, a clumsy partition meant her desk was concealed from him. If not working together they met infrequently, usually coffee breaks. There were two other employees in another room, dropping in when needs be. Apart from occasional courier deliveries all the work was done by phone or internet, rarely were there any visitors.

The past few days' business had eased off. Small talk filled some of their time but she shared little of herself, being friendly and warm but guardedly private. The one thing that had surprised him those two months was the way she had refashioned herself almost imperceptibly from the kind of suits worn at the interview, to the current typically short skirt and tight woollen top. Too busy to contemplate it before, he thought back to the subtle changes in her clothing from one day to another. That was how she managed to turn up in today's eye-catching outfit without drawing too much attention. Other than her lunch hour, usually spent away from the office, he was the only one likely to heed her appearance and she must have thought her boss was ok with it as he hadn't said anything... until now...

"I see you have more casual clothing these days," he mentioned in passing.

"I hope sir doesn't disapprove? I'll wear whatever he decides."

They'd had a conversation about names. At the outset he'd asked her to call him by his first name but in what almost sounded like a lecture she explained the necessity of 'office discipline' she only able to refer to him with correct regard to his position of authority as her boss, tho she insisted her boss could of course call her 'whatever sir prefers'. He accepted with a bemused O...K! But since then he'd been musing; his new secretary had an intriguing turn of phrase.

Her demeanour puzzled him, clearly formal, efficient, unquestioning devotion to her work, eager to complete any task asked of her before any set deadline, sharing little about herself, to him or her office colleagues, but she was inconsistently reserved. For instance, her recent wear was decidedly provocative, indeed rather contrary. A bit of an introvert himself, he noticed the contradiction, but there was something else, something restrained and mute... something... dark,. Then there were the sporadic, oh-so subtle and confusing remarks she let slip. One thing he was certain of, because she declared it unmistakably, that a strict boss motivated her. Part of his job was reading people, he was good at it, hence his flourishing business. Reading her was difficult but the tacit words she spilt were leading him to form a theory, an outrageous one.

She was always the one to leave an employment, never dismissed, but seemingly jobs didn't hold her long, why? Perhaps they did not offer what she hoped. Therefore, she moved on... salary seemed unimportant proffered less here than her previous employment. She sought something... else. To verify his speculation he called her to his office.

"Yes sir?"

In the calm, authoritative voice of a dissatisfied superior, he abused his power.

"There is a spelling mistake in one of your letters, to an important client..." (not)

"I'm SO sorry! I don't know how..."

Cutting her short...

"...and, your skirt is too short, almost indecent. Your underwear and cheeks are on view. What if someone called, what impression does your lack of modesty give about my company?"

She blushed significantly.

"Although your work is usually satisfactory, perhaps these lapses are why you leave jobs after a relatively short time? Do you see yourself as a temp?"

"No... I..."

"Do not interrupt me."

She lowered her eyes to look at the floor and apologised. His theory gained confidence.

"I cannot overlook this lapse lest they multiply; I must put a permanent reprimand in your record. I would be duty bound to include it in any references future employers would undoubtedly ask for..."

She pleaded for her professional reputation not to be blemished. He merely admonished her yet again for interrupting, she became silently contrite.

"I simply have to punish you for this, if not a reprimand then I must think of something else. Come to see me after work."

Her moist eyes grew wider as he mentioned 'punish?'... and ...'something else?'... An, -almost- imperceptible gleeful radiance expressed itself on her flushed features. He noticed it, clearly he did, an erection commenced.

"Yes sir, thank you for your understanding sir." She had regained the self-assurance of an efficient secretary.

Time passed, he let her thoughts simmer without the relief of more work to do. He expected she would be increasingly apprehensive. At the appointed time, the others having bid their goodbyes, she entered silently, carrying files to place unnecessarily on a high shelf, lifting her skirt in the doing.

She turned nervously to her boss sitting at his imposing desk to announce she deserved whatever discipline he saw fit.

"You do." He confirmed.

"But please sir, not on my record, I'm so proud of it sir, I couldn't endure the disgrace" she pleaded.

"So what punishment would be appropriate?" he asked. "You dress like a naughty little schoolgirl so should you be punished like one, I wonder"

She began to shiver tho not of cold.

"Rather than a permanent black mark on your character, Should I be lenient with you and merely administer a few transient marks on your flesh, as a headmaster would, take the cane to you. Would you prefer that?" she seemed genuinely scared, looking down, nodding.

Precisely, he said, "Do not wave your head about girl, and ask me to do so."

Taken aback by a gleam penetrating the dark unmentionable, nervous wonderment described on her face. Desired for such a long time, is this it? Here? Now? Will this boss satisfy the unrelenting yearning? Discarding its muzzle her thing spoke: "please sir, kind sir, I deserve to be punished for being a bad secretary. I need a good spanking for misbehaviour. Please smack me. Best do it hard to teach me a lesson." she blurted out, biting her lower lip, shocked by her own declaration.

"Very well girl. As I do not have an appropriate implement to punish you with, at present, (he emphasised) find me something to discipline you with."

Transient upon her features; a fearful thrill. Shamefully she sought an instrument of punishment.

A minute or two later, she held one of his slippers, worn around the office on long tedious days.

"This?" he enquired.

"Sir."

"Very well. Place that chair in the centre of the room."

Indicated was a basic chair without armrests, the seat somewhat padded. Anyone who came into this office would think twice to stay long. She did as told, with illogical trepidation. Sitting on the chair, he indicated for her to lie across his lap. Wavering, she looked at him, his lap. Again he gave her the option of a simple black mark on her reputation but she emphatically favoured another kind of mark.

"On my lap, naughty little girl" was the instruction. Instead, she opted to address him.

"Although thoroughly ashamed, I am grateful to be spared the humiliation of my reputation being sullied. I hope I am worthy and do not offend again. I am ready for your correction. Thank you sir."

She lay on burly knees, placing the footwear on the floor beside her hands flat on the floor, to keep balance. A whimper escaped.

"That was a nice little speech" he mocked "ready? I do not think you are. You are not nearly scared enough. Ashamed? Shameless I think you mean" raising her brief skirt onto the small of her back, revealing her white cotton panties. She must push them down, further... further still, clear the cheeks... she articulated a tremulous moan as she completed his bidding. Finally, she provided complete access to buttocks worthy of sculpture, clenching and unclenching in due expectancy. Unable to gain purchase, her legs gyrated inconveniently.

Raising his right knee her pale cheeks ascended to his hand while he admired the mist of fine down that would shield her none as the first slap sternly collided with a helpless cheek. The other cheek acquainted with his strong hand before the startled yelp concluded. To his ears, a satisfying turbulence of smacking and wailing occupied his office. The other hand helped balance her on his lap, her legs flaying to complain, as did an occasional word: no! Please, please sir! Enough! Her melodious groaning could have been the soundtrack to a vanilla porno, she the star, having her clitoris expertly seen to. Her incongruous complaining about something she decidedly wanted, he supposed that perhaps he was too soft on her.

"No, it is not enough, not by a long way."

Her cheeks glowed ever more crimson as he determined to wield his hand about to even the colour. A change of hand and a scold for not keeping still. He advised she was trying to escape her punishment and required further discipline, spanking until his hand wearied of chastising buttocks glowing intense pink. She complained with the indecisive moaning of a masochist.

"Hand me your chosen instrument."

She grumbled of her condition without using words. Clutching the slipper, she passed it behind and took it upon herself to rub the burn, whimpering more intensely in trying to ready herself for the resumption.

"I hope this will make you decide whether you will behave in the future girl."

"Yes sir, I am grate..."

THWACK. The slipper hit her bottom loudly, mid word, she could not yell her pain-sound properly. The next swift strike also caught her unprepared-unable to convey how much a slipper forcibly slapping tender flesh hurt. It was several harsh smacks before her noises tally whereupon he introduced another rhythm. Down the back of her thighs too, fresh skin to abuse. Her voicing was invigorating encouragement. He had a degree of firmness throughout, now fully upright, being jolted by his secretary's writhing in moaning of scolding turmoil.

He intended, in time, for her to reveal all her dark secrets to him, even if reluctantly. Hopefully reluctant, that would be more enjoyable. In expectation of further indiscretion, he was confident she would not be leaving this position; she was where she wanted to be. He was the boss she had been looking for.

His hand caressed gently the smouldering flesh, fondling the skin his task to mistreat. After he considered sufficient soothing the slipper was applied resolutely in a rhythm he trusted met with approval. An uncertain number, the condition of her backside determining when it appeared repentantly raw. Her ambiguous utterances sounded appreciative. For as long as it took he uncompromisingly chastised her.

"That should ensure your carelessness does not recur young lady. You may go. I expect a letter on my desk before I arrive tomorrow morning, expressing your gratitude for my kind understanding of your plea for leniency. List your misdemeanours and the consequence you paid. Understood?"

"Clearly sir. Thank you boss" her hands and eyes were on fire-red cheeks, wishing for a mirror, until a dribble descending the inside of a thigh alerted her to the disgrace of her blatant wetness. Ablush, she gathered her few garments and had no choice but to get dressed in front of him.

"For tomorrow I give you permission to wear a skirt as today's. But no underwear, in case you lapse and punishment need be provided, it will remind you of your responsibilities."

"Thank you sir."

He'd had some interest in this sort of thing for a while, s&M, spanking, discipline, whatever the appropriate label. Until now no proper experience, a test slap of an ex-girlfriend's snugly denimed rear gained a disapproving stare. One thing he understood, there were diverse species of spankee. The translation of pain to pleasure intrigued him. Not so keen on the strictly ritualistic disciplining. He appreciated it, but preferred a more freehand approach. He hoped it met with his secretary's approval. For reasons he did not know she wasn't able to freely share her kink's intricacies, he knew he would enjoy gradually prising them out.

Duly, his secretary awaited him the next morning in the same skirt minus underwear, any underwear. Despite being wonderfully sturdy for their weight, a tantalizing shove of cloth gave notice her breasts were untethered inside a shiny grey top. He did not know if her intension was to excite him but he saw an opportunity and took it.

"Are you trying to mock me girl?"

"Sir?!"

"When I told you not to wear underwear it was to try and keep you in check by maintaining vulnerability in you but no, you insist on misbehaving. Are you trying to distract me from your discipline by jiggling your breasts at me?"

"No Sir I was merely complying with your instruction. I'm sorry sir."

"Manipulating my directive to your own ends you mean."

"No sir I wouldn't!"

"Yes girl, you have! You must be further punished."

"Sir knows best, thank you sir, I'm sure I have lessons to learn. I'm very sorry boss."

"You will be. I will consider this. Come to see me in half an hour."

"Yes sir."

Her letter was on the desk, adorned by beautiful handwriting. He learned something between every line, enough to shape additional ploys. In due time she entered, rightly ashamed. He insisted she lift her skirt to confirm she had no panties. Blushing profusely, she did. Her buttocks had barely recovered from the recent admonishment. Now, she must verify that her brassiere was indeed not present. Looking mortified, she unbuttoned her eyes looking around the room, seemingly for somewhere to hide. Some buttons undone, holding her blouse apart to reveal generous sweeps of bare flesh, she managed to look at her boss wordlessly asking; satisfied?

"Undo them all"

She actually paused. Perhaps considering fleeing, unquestionably not a woman familiar with topless beaches. Preferring not to flee, she clumsily opened the remainder, soon dismayed in having to reveal her, nevertheless, magnificent proud breasts adorned with some delightful blue veining, tipped with bright pink conical nipples.

"All right girl, don't keep flaunting them at me, I can see you are not wearing a bra." ...he added "lunchtime, you will go into town and purchase something suitable for your disciplining, one or two items, do not disappoint me. Do you understand, young lady?"

"Yes sir, but outside sir?" he knew exactly what she meant allowing her to wear her coat, open. She would just have to be cautious wouldn't she. And yes of course she could buy a new brassier, but certainly not wear it today.

"Thank you boss."

After showing herself in the coat for inspection, she left for her lunch-break.

Some time later she returned flustered, her face red as her bottom presently. Without prompting, she disclosed that despite her caution, her breasts' shudder elicited some truly vulgar attention.

"You acquired some suitable implements?" Ignoring her ignominy.

"Yes sir."

She placed a thin carrier bag on his desk, been in a discount store by the look of it. Items of low cost. Some cloths; he deduced she'd like to be blindfolded. A predictable wooden spatula, tho she managed to find a largish one.

"You will be again be staying behind work today. As you go about your work this afternoon think about your bad behaviour and what I will be doing about it later."

"Yes sir, thank you boss."

She entered his office at the appointed time. After verbally admonishing her again, he explained why he simply must physically discipline her, listing her offences for her shame. Apologetically she acknowledged her wrongdoing and for displeasing her busy boss, taking up his valuable time.

"Take off all your clothes."

This time she obeyed without hesitation. He didn't take his eyes off her while she undressed, until naked, whereupon he scrutinised her body further. She must swim or something to keep so toned, the flushed embarrassment he expected, obvious, not just on her face, her torso too, pink in exhilarated shamefulness. For a minute or so, he encircled her body for a thorough inspection.

"Your lunchtime collection of disciplinary implements were somewhat lacking, girl. In anticipation of your inadequate choices I procured instruments of my own."

Her expression charged with fright, dark imaginings assailing her. He introduced her to something that caught his eye in the local gardening centre. They had a few assortments of them, he acquired a bunch of thinner ones; three foot bamboo canes. Selecting one, he tested it on air, ominous, eliciting a perverse jolt of shock.

He had some further apparatus for her discipline, placing a nylon cable tie around each wrist, as tight as a watch. He made her bring the chair to the centre of the office and given precise instruction for its mount. Breasts to hang clear of the edge, bottom protruding the other. She did so with a low murmur of a whimper. Two more cable ties were fed through hers and firmly secured around the chair's metal legs. Onto the other legs, her thighs were restricted, tightly, with plenty of gaffer tape. Thus bound safely to the wooden chair to his satisfaction. Finally, the blindfold. Her breathing gathered pace.

"You will not flap about this time young lady."

"No sir."

"Do not speak unless asked, or ill fill your mouth. I would prefer to hear clearly the effect of my correction so to determine its effectiveness. Reply."

"Thank you sir."

"That a distinguished secretary such as your good self needs to be bound in preparation for her bottom to be spanked (a sound of pleasure was exclaimed by her) should bring humiliating shame upon her don't you think, answer..." she confirmed amid several exclamations of joyous anticipation. "Your bottom still shows signs of your previous discipline. Will you ever learn girl? Clearly I will have to provide significant chastisement."

"Count and be grateful girl" a stinging slap resounded onto a defenceless cheek.

"AWuh!...ohhhh... one, thank you sir."

The other cheek; count two. He applied hard hand slaps as a warm up. Ten she counted, sobbing.

He wiped his hand on the reddened skin, encouraging its sensors to feel his soft touch enhanced by the stinging administration just applied. She seemed to him wary of this kindness, jittery as if something more potent was to follow. Instead, she felt a fingertip draw itself up her spine, making it exaggerate its curvature as a cat would so stroked. She whimpered in expectation of something severe... the fingertip arrived at her nape, and left. She had no idea where he stood or what was next. She could only wait, exposed, and tied to a chair.

The silence tormented her, had he left? How long for? Why? She would rather be relentlessly whipped than this torment. The half-minute or so of uncertainty that seemed an age to her ended with his precise aim of her spatula, centre cheek. He had waited for it to relax, now the muscles were resolutely tense lest they be caught out again. He applied umpteen smacks in his attempt to make them soften again, she complained vociferously. Some whacks were aimed down the back of her thighs those producing yelps of a higher pitch even making her chair jolt. As quickly as the assault began, he paused, listening intently to the dulcet moaning bestowing a full erection. A moment after the smacking paused her yelps softened to unmistakable sighs of erotic pleasure. She writhed on her encumbrance, blissfully helpless.