"Aah! Th-Thank you...!" she half groaned, half squeaked out from between her lips. Unsatisfied with her response, I quickly brought up my arm and listened as the old-fashioned ruler cut through the air and loudly smacked down across the girl's exposed rear end.
"Thank you, what?" My voice firm, even though the sight of the wood striking her bare flesh was almost as arousing as her helpless capitulation to me, she could not tell it from my voice. Nor could she see the desire on my face or the effect her reactions were having on me. Bent over her desk, her khaki trousers were yanked down to her knees, exposing her rear end, and her white panties were pulled up tightly between her ass cheeks, dividing the soft, smooth flesh into two globes, ready, waiting to be beaten.
"Thank you.. s-s-SIR!" she almost whispered until I smacked her ass with the ruler again. Her last word almost a shout as the wood struck her ass. Nervously, she looked out the open the door of her office into the nearly dark, pre-dawn hallway. She had to know that this early, while it was improbable that anyone would see, it was not, however, impossible.
"Waiting for an audience girl? Hoping someone will come along and see you bent over your desk, ass exposed and covered in red marks..." I bent down near her face and grabbed a handful of her blonde and red-streaked brown hair, whispering into her ear and trying to keep my own breathing calm, measured, over the rapid beating of my heart. "...listening to you moan like a whore, following every order like a trained animal?"
My heart jumped as I heard her breath catch, knowing she was thinking about the answer. She was asking herself if that
was
what she wanted, asking not if someone would come by and stop this humiliating display, but if they would stop and watch, or if they'd want to help...to join in. I smiled and decided not to give her the chance to decide as I quickly smacked her ass again and again with the ruler before I pulled back on her hair, tilting her head back so I could see her face. Her moan said she enjoyed the pain and left her lips deliciously parted. I didn't need to tell her how that pleased me. "Am I going to get answer, girl?" the threat implied in my tone. I admit, I was curious as to what her answer would be.
When it came, it was stammered and soft. I was right next to her lips and could not hear more than a few words, but I could see the mixed emotions in her eyes. Disbelief and shock at the truth of her answer, and something else, an honest, filthy desire to submit, even to the humiliation of being seen by her colleagues. I let my pleasure show through my grin as I whipped the ruler against her ass, my hand shaking a little at the sight and sound of it. Wood on a lush ass is a fucking symphony when done right. She needed no prompting to answer properly this time, although he answer stuttered out between ruler slaps. "I'm afraid... someone will come along... and stop you."
My eyes narrowed as my grin curled into a truly wicked smile. I dragged the metal edge of the ruler up and down along the curve of her ass, tracing over the lines of the pink welts forming on her milky white flesh. I'd left several as I spanked my willing fucktoy, and we weren't done yet. I whipped the ruler now with frenzied speed, sure in the knowledge that she was enjoying this as much as I was, and that I had made the right choice in choosing her.
That brought me pause, and I stopped for a moment to ponder, all the while rubbing the ruler back and forth over her rear and ignoring her moans and heavy breathing. I wondered at what moment I'd declared this girl to be mine. Months of conversation, teasing and sharing. Intimate details laid bare. Then, I had decided weeks ago that it was time, that I would take her, make her beg for me to give her pleasure. But until that moment, until just now, I had not thought of this fucktoy, this girl, as my property, nor had I realized how much I would enjoy that thought. Watching her as she remained facing the door as I gripped her hair in my hand and rubbed her exposed ass lightly with the ruler, I also realized she wanted to be mine. She didn't just want to be dominated, to be humiliated and shown for the whore she always knew she was, but was afraid to be. She wanted
me
to do it. She wanted to me
my
whore.
I hadn't realized I let my grasp slacken around her hair as my mind wandered until she turned to look at me, catching what must have appeared as a thoughtful expression on my face.
"Sir?" The word was hesitant at first, spilling uneasily from her lips. The next time it was more sure, more certain. "Sir...have I done something wrong?"
That simple question was enough to shake me from my internal reverie, and enough to let me know her desires. She didn't ask to stop, didn't ask if I was done, but rather if she had done something wrong, something to displease me. Her overwhelming need to please and serve me shone crystal clear in her eyes.