Job Training

There I was, getting reamed in front of my new boss's desk, and not in the good way, and the only thing on my mind was, "Damn, Mr. Thompson is hot."

Yeah, probably not what I should have been thinking, but I couldn't help it. Because Joshua Thompson was seriously, incredibly hot. Dark hair, chiseled features, tanned skin, and a body that made sense on a personal trainer, not a land developer. Not that I knew a whole lot of land developers or anything, but I pictured them looking decidedly less attractive than Mr. Thompson did.

The best part? His hands. His fingers were long, his palms broad, and I would bet my last $134.57 that they'd feel amazing on a woman's body. Or, no, wait, his shoulders. They looked like the perfect spot to hold on to as he pounded into me. Or, maybe his mouth, with the full bottom lip that I'd love to bite.

But no, it was his icy blue eyes, I decided. The color was an incredible light blue, and they were mesmerizing, captivating... and narrowed at me right now in pure annoyance.

Shit.

"Are you even listening to me, Bianca?" Mr. Thompson glared up at me.

Absolutely not, I'm too busy undressing you in my mind, I thought.

"Absolutely," I replied out loud, trying not to fidget. It was hard, though, because these new heels were pinching my toes, my pencil skirt was a smidgen too tight because I ate a massive burrito for lunch, and I was so nervous that I was about to get fired that I might pee myself.

"Then what did I say?" One dark brown eyebrow arched as Mr. Thompson sat back. Jesus, even his eyebrows were sexy! How was that possible? Damn it, fucking focus, Bianca.

"Um..." I stalled, rolling my lips together.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Mr. Thompson muttered, and looked down at his desk. One of those hands I had been admiring picked up a pen and started tapping it on the desk. I waited, biting my lip, my fingers twisting and twining with each other. After a heavy sigh, Mr. Thompson lifted his face and pinned me with a hard look. "Here's the thing, Bianca. I'm not sure you're going to work out."

And there it was. The inevitable.

I took a deep, bracing breath to prepare myself before I started begging.

"Mr. Thompson, please. I know that I've messed up a little since starting-"

"A little?" Mr. Thompson snorted as he rose, picking up several papers and strolling to the front of the desk to prop a hip there. "In the nine days you've worked for me, you've managed to insult two of my best contractors, completely screwed up the filing system, booked me a ticket to Portland, Maine, instead of Portland, Oregon-"

"Okay, I should have asked for clarification on that one-"

"Sent the wrong paperwork to the zoning office, setting me back two weeks I don't have-"

"I apologize, sincerely, for that-" I said with a wince.

"And told my attorney to bite you."

"That was a misunderstanding! I thought he was hitting on me!" I cried, throwing my hands to the side.

"He's married!" Mr. Thompson practically roared.

"I know! I saw his ring. Why do you think I was so insulted? Not just for me, but for his wife. I mean, honestly, she deserves better than that from-"

Mr. Thompson cut my rant off with nothing more than a raised hand. As we both fell silent, I took a moment to do some deep breathing before trying to talk my way out of the mess I made.

"This all happened in nine days, Bianca. Nine. One screw-up may be messing up 'a little', but all together? I'm sorry, but this is my business we're talking about here. I'm responsible for a lot of people. I need an office manager to deal with headaches and problems that come up, not to be one."

"You're right," I told him quietly. "I did that. I did all of that, and those were definitely not little screw ups. But if I could have just one more chance, just one, I know I could do this job well. Maybe with a little more training?"

*****

Josh looked at his curvy blonde office manager, her big brown eyes pleading with him, and felt something besides frustration swirl through his body.

On the surface, Bianca was a knockout. Generous boobs, trim waist, curvy hips. Though pretty much fresh out of college, she mostly looked the part, with her hair and makeup tastefully done, her clothes fitted but conservative. Where she went off track was with the stilettos she insisted on sporting. No way were those in any way conservative; they screamed "fuck me, and fuck me hard."

But honestly, Josh didn't give a shit about her shoes. Especially since she looked good prancing around his office in them, and they did nice things for her ass. Yeah, he was the boss here, so he probably shouldn't notice things like that. But he was a guy, so what could he do?

So, no, Josh didn't care about shoes. What he cared about was fuck ups. And no matter how good she looked, no matter how well she physically fit the part, Bianca was a walking, talking disaster, waiting to unleash some new kind of irritation on his life. He spent the last nine days frustrated, irritated, pissed off, and exhausted. How was he supposed to focus on his business when he constantly had to put out whatever fires she started?

He meant what he said; he needed an office manager to take away some of his stress, not add to it.

But damn, when he heard the word "training" fall from her lips, his mind suddenly flashed on a alternative solution. He could fire her and start looking for her replacement, which is what any sane employer would do. Or... he could give her more training.

Option A would cure him of a massive pain in the ass. But if done right, Option B could also relieve some tension. Option B could also land him on the wrong end of a lawsuit, but he paid Brad, his attorney, a whack for a reason.

And he'd have to be a blind man to have missed the heated looks Bianca shot his way. In fact, those heated looks came more often than the attentive, coherent looks one would expect from an employee acting professionally. When Bianca spaced, she clearly spaced right into some naughty thoughts.

So. Decision made.

*****

"All right, Bianca." I watched Mr. Thompson as he moved around the desk and sat in his rolling chair, stunned and more than a little hopeful at his words. "I'll give you one more shot, and we'll see how it goes. But," he said as he speared me with a glare, "One more mistake and you're fired."

"Absolutely, Mr. Thompson," I replied with a grateful smile. "Whatever you say."

"Good. Let's start by going over proper email etiquette. Come here so you can see." I instantly moved to the right, to the side where the desktop computer sat on the desk, but Mr. Thompson shook his head. "No, over here."

A little confused, I slowly walked over to his right side where he directed me. "Good, now open up the email program."

"Yes, Mr. Thompson," I said, but immediately saw a problem. In order to reach the mouse, I'd have to practically lean over his body. Talk about awkward, but okay. I'd make it work.

With my left hand pressed against the desk right in front of my boss, I leaned forward and grabbed the mouse with my right. A few clicks later, and I had the email program open.

"Good. Now find the email you CC'd me on to Roger." I leaned forward a little farther to see the screen, got into the Sent Folder, and pulled up the email. A soft smack against the back of my thigh had me jumping and twisting around to see my boss frowning at me. "No, Bianca, I said Roger. Not Rick."

With a grimace and a silent curse, I turned back to the screen and saw my mistake. Hurriedly, I quickly closed and opened windows until I found the right email. A soft touch against the back of my knee had me looking over my shoulder again. This time, Mr. Thompson gave me a small smile. Wow, even the barest of smiles looked great when it was him smiling at me.

"Good job, Bianca. Now, read it aloud."

A strange mix of emotions flowed through me as I twisted back towards the computer. This situation was a little weird, wasn't it? But damn, Mr. Thompson's fingers felt really nice as they traveled lightly over my skin. Suppressing a shiver, because I was totally right about how his hands would feel, I cleared my throat and began to read.

"'To Who It May Concern," I started, but was immediately cut off by two smacks. One was on the back of my thigh, on the same spot as the first, and the other ever was so slightly higher. Again, I twisted to look at my boss, more than a little shocked.

"Two problems, Bianca," Mr. Thompson said as he leaned back in his chair, casual as you please. "The first is that it's always 'To Whom', not 'To Who.'" He waited until I silently nodded that I understood before continuing. "The second is that you don't need that salutation. You know who you're writing to, because you're writing to Rick. 'To Whom It May Concern' is for when you don't have a name to address an email or letter to. Because you do, this is wrong."

Another smack against my thigh had my breath catching in my throat. "We don't want to start off an email wrong, because it gives people the wrong impression about me right from the start. It says that I'm an idiot who can't write or proofread. Am I an idiot, Bianca?"

There was only one acceptable answer, so I gave it, my chest burning. "No, Mr. Thompson."

"Good girl," he whispered, staring intently at my face as I felt another light stroke, this time along my inner thigh. "Continue."

Ten smacks, four light touches, four small smiles, and twenty minutes later, I was fully briefed in email etiquette. I was also confused, and more turned on than I could ever remember being before in my life.

*****

An hour after my email training session, Mr. Thompson sent me home for the weekend. This was good because it had been a rough week for me. Not that the job was inherently difficult, because it wasn't. But all of my screw ups that week, along with the fear that I was going to be fired from my first official job, had me stressed out.

I needed a break.

It was also good because as we closed down the office and headed to our cars in the parking lot, Mr. Thompson told me to have a good weekend and be prepared to learn more next week. Which meant I still had a job, and would still be getting paid. This was a very good thing.

But it was bad because it gave me two whole days to replay that email training session in my mind.

Part of me knew it wasn't right, that Mr. Thompson took a few liberties in touching me. But the other part of me argued that it wasn't necessarily wrong, either. The touches hadn't come anywhere near any intimate places.

Which both relieved me, and frustrated me.

And that's what drove me up a wall. Did I actually want Mr. Thompson touching me? Was I pissed with that the light smacks happened at all, or was I pissed that they weren't nearly hard enough or high enough?

So, even though I did nothing but veg in front of the TV all weekend, I went into work Monday feeling more strung out than I did when I left on Friday, both nervous for what more training would entail, and anxious for it.

God, help me, but I wanted it. Bad.

*****

By the next Friday, Josh was pleased as hell with his choice to go with Option B. Hell, he was pleased from the moment he decided, but the last few days had only cemented that for him.

Who knew he'd get off on playing mind games with his office manager?

Not that he got off, exactly. He had yet to make any bold moves, like actually spanking Bianca's ass or throwing her on his desk and making her scream, but that would be coming shortly. Pun absolutely intended.

But he'd been having fun with teasing Bianca while he'd been in the office, more fun than he anticipated, so he kept it going longer than he originally intended.

Like showing her how to fax while being pressed up against her back. Watching her file, making her bend and shift while holding onto her hips. Or, one favorite, teaching her proper phone etiquette while making her sit on his knee, her legs spread wide enough that his leg rested right against her crotch.

Yeah, he'd have to do that one again soon. He could feel her heat pouring out of her, even through her panties and his trousers. She was so hot, Josh thought her wetness would have left a spot on his pants, and actually felt disappointed that there wasn't one there when she stood up.

He'd taken every opportunity he could to touch her, brush up against her, push her limits a little more every time he "instructed" her. Bianca was enjoying it, if the flushed cheeks and bright eyes she had after every training "session" was any indication. But he also knew she was confused, both by his idea of training and her reaction to it.

If he were a better man, he wouldn't be enjoying this quite so much, especially since she was hesitant and confused. But at least he knew himself well enough to know that her being hesitant and confused only added to his enjoyment.

Besides, they were both adults, right? Right. So.

Josh turned his attention to his computer, and was wondering whether or not to call Bianca into his office for another monitored phone call or for something new, maybe her sitting on his lap to read his email, when she appeared in his doorway and knocked softly.

"Um, Mr. Thompson?" she asked timidly, shifting her feet. Josh just barely managed not to smile, and worked to school his features into a stern expression. It worked, given Bianca's hard swallow. "I think I might have broken the copy machine."

With a loud, forced groan, Josh pushed himself out of his chair and moved towards her. "You better hope you didn't."

Quickly, Bianca stepped back, giving him a wide berth as he made his way into their break room and over to the copy machine. After looking it over, he knelt at the side and yanked open a compartment door. Almost immediately, he spotted the problem, a simple paper jam. Or, was it? There was something strange about it, mainly that the paper was jammed from the top, instead of the bottom where it fed into the machine.

Josh sat back on his heels and looked up at Bianca, who was standing by his side. And who, upon a deeper look, was twitchier than he'd ever seen her. Could she... could she have sabotaged the copier? Her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, and she kept looking down. Appears so, but why would she do that?

Unless, Josh realized as the light dawned, she wanted to be caught. She'd do it if she wanted to be in trouble, if she wanted to be punished.

Up until now, he'd only been playing at it, but maybe she wanted a spanking. An actual spanking, not just the teasing brushes he'd been giving her.

More than willing to test the theory, he turned a glare on her. "Well, the good news is that you didn't break the copier, Bianca. Which is exceptionally good news when it's a piece of equipment that costs thousands of dollars. But the bad news," he told her as he rose to his feet and hovered over her smaller frame, "is that you've jammed it."

"I-I did?"

"You did. So, since you've made another mess, you get to clean it up. Reach your little hand in there, and pull out the paper." Bianca stepped forward and made to kneel, but Josh wasn't having that. No way would she deprive him of an opportunity to stare at her ass. "No. Bend over at the waist."

Bianca swallowed again at his sharp tone, but did as he asked, bending forward at the waist and peering into the guts of the copier. The jam was in the back and down, and she had to press against the front of the machine to reach it. A few unsuccessful tugs later, and she turned her face up to see his. "It's really stuck. I don't think I can do it."

Josh didn't reply verbally. Instead, his hand came up quickly, meeting her ass solidly. No more teasing, no more inching up her thigh. He went for it and was rewarded with the slightest ass jiggle. Mesmerized, he did it again, and at the soft release of air from Bianca, not quite a moan, not quite a gasp, he went hard.

"Figure it out," he commanded, and she turned and reached back into the copier. With each tug, his hand landed on her ass heavily. He couldn't see her face, but the more he spanked her, the harder he did it, the more her back arched, pushing her hips up toward him. Yeah, she did this on purpose.

"Lift up your skirt," he told her gruffly, one hand stroking his erection through his pants. She was wearing a tight knee length knit dress today, and with trembling fingers, she slowly slid the material up around her waist without lifting up her body, bearing her ass to him. And what a sight. Her hipster underwear was maroon lace, the same maroon color as her dress, and cut high up on the cheeks. But as nice as the view was, he wanted her round ass completely bare and covered in his hand prints. "Slide those down."

Again, Bianca complied, faster this time. And as soon as her hands were pressed back against the copier and her panties around her ankles, he resumed his spanking. Over and over he landed blows, moving all over her ass. Up one cheek and down another. Then lower to the backs of her thighs. Then inside to her inner thighs. Back up to the top of her ass.

Josh took his time, covering every inch until her ass glowed a bright pink... then kept going, lost in the sight.

*****

I was on fire. There was no other word for it. I was bent over in the break room, hands gripping the copy machine, ass bared to my boss. With each hit, I arched more, and now my skirt had slid up to just under my breasts. I should have been pissed, or terrified, or screaming in pain; but I wasn't. What I was was turned way the fuck on.

A week of teasing, and I was ready to blow. I had lost count of how many times I had had to run to the bathroom and finger my pussy this week. But it wasn't enough. I wanted this, wanted everything Mr. Thompson could give me. I welcomed the heat shooting through my body straight to my clit. I welcomed the sting on my ass. I welcomed the wetness I could feel in my pussy.

After who knows how long, Mr. Thompson stepped closer to me, and I could feel something firm sliding through my wet folds. God, that felt so good, I arched back, trying to get it where I wanted it. But for every move I made, it slid somewhere else, and Mr. Thompson's hands gripped my hips tightly, forcing me to stay still as he moved. Up over my clit, down my slit, across the sensitive skin just past my opening, up to my asshole. Then back again, sliding up one side of my pussy and down the other.

"Do you like that, Bianca? Do you like the feel of my cock sliding over your pussy?" Mr. Thompson asked me, unnecessarily I thought since the wetness he was sliding through and spreading around spoke for me. But I answered him anyway.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Thompson." My reply was breathy, too breathy, and would have embarrassed me for giving too much away, but I was far beyond that now. Aching, desperate, I wiggled more, but the head of his cock didn't slide inside my pussy no matter how much I tried. This much foreplay was new for me, and I wasn't sure how much more I could take.

Mr. Thompson's hands slid up my body, grabbing hold of my dress and yanking it off, before shifting me to face him. Without warning, his hands slid into my shoulder length hair, gripping tightly as he angled my head just where he wanted. His head descended and suddenly his mouth was on mine, kissing me hungrily. I returned the kiss just as eagerly, opening my mouth when his tongue pressed in, then giving it a little suck.

His groan felt like a physical touch on me, shooting across my skin and spreading pleasure everywhere. No, wait, that was his hands, smoothing all over my body. They dropped to tug the cups of my bra down to below my breasts, then his hands were gripping, tweaking, pinching my nipples. It felt so good, I sucked on his tongue again before he yanked my head back.

Breathless, I could only stare up at him. His icy blue eyes were hot, and they bored into mine. Not in an angry way; in a way that made me feel hyper aware of my body. I could feel his gaze across every inch of my skin, and in every heart beat. My pulse was both quick and heavy, just like his spanking, and my clit throbbed in time to it.