Spanked by my Boss
by Pan
Chapter 4
I don't know what was worse - the long walk down the hallway to Mr. Peterson's office, or the look of disappointment in his eyes when I entered.
Though I did knpw the guilt I'd feel in half an hour would trump both of them.
As soon as I entered, he stood up, and my eyes - my damned, treacherous eyes - immediately dropped to his crotch.
Not that there was anything noteworthy to see, of course. This wasn't a sexual act - he was simply implementing company policy. Everyone else in the building was subject to the exact same rules as I was...but I, for some reason, had turned it sexual.
But I can't deny, I was disappointed not to see the outline of a hard-on.
I immediately returned my focus to Mr. Peterson's face, hoping he hadn't noticed where my attention had briefly been. Once more, he was holding a printout.
"Really, Amber?" he said, gesturing to the paper in his hand. "We're analysing our medical client's mental state now?"
"I'm sorry, sir," I replied, my eyes downcast. "It was a stupid mistake, and it won't happen again."
As soon as I'd gotten the email, I'd scoured my latest reports to see what I'd missed. Again, a simple typo, but one that no app was going to pick up on. I'd shared an extrapolation, based on the past three decades of data, that one of our clients (a local hospital) should see a slight uptick of...patience.
Not
patients
. PatienCE.
Again, it had been an internal report - the hospital would never see it - but I knew the rules.
"Five, sir?"
"Five. Can I trust you to count them this time?"
"Yes, sir," I nodded.
On the outside, I was projecting a completely professional image, just an accountant reporting to her boss for a routine discipline. But on the inside, I can't deny...I was excited.
Not sexually, of course. This was a punishment. There was nothing sexual about it.
But since the last time Mr. Peterson had spanked me, nothing else had given me that feeling of warmth. Nothing had made me feel so
alive
.
Riding my husband, cumming around his cock, remembering the feeling of Mr. Peterson's hand meeting my buttocks...that had come close.
But it wasn't the same.
Even before my boss stood up and moved around his desk, even before he raised a hand...just the act of bending over Mr. Peterson's desk was enough, I was surprised to discover, to begin filling me with warmth.
CRACK.
"One, sir," I said, trying desperately to keep my tone professional.
Trying, and utterly failing.
It wasn't as bad this time, admittedly - this was more of a pleasurable whimper than the outright begging I'd succmbed to during my last punishment...but it was far from the austere tone I was trying to broadcast.
CRACK.
"Two, sir," I gasped.
The feeling of my boss's hand on my rear...it was like it awoke something in me. I felt like my entire body was electrified, suddenly
alive
in a way that I couldn't help but find alarming.
Alarming, and very very exciting.
The warmth had spread through my entire body, and it was all I could do to stop myself from pushing my butt out, trying to chase the hand that I so desperately wanted to make...contact with.
CRACK.
"Three!"
I could feel my heartbeat. Adrenaline was racing through my body. Every part of me was switched on, turned on.
But not aroused, of course. That would have been inappropriate.
This was a normal interaction between a boss and his disobedient employee, nothing more.
I stood there, my eyes closed, gripping Mr. Peterson's desk, focusing with all my might on the sweet anticipation of what was coming...
...but it didn't come.
Slowly opening my eyes, I turned to see why Mr. Peterson had stopped. He was looking at me, his mouth curled with disappointment.
"Amber," he said softly. "I
am
trying."
I nodded, unsure what response he was looking for.
"We do try to be lenient here at Gio," he continued. "We're interested in giving employees all the tools we can, so they can do the best job possible."
Then get some better damn reporting software,
I mentally responded. He shot me a strange look, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. I made sure my expression was that of pure innocence, and waited for him to continue.
"In return, we don't ask much, do we?"
I shook my head, too nervous to speak. What had I done? Was this going to warrant another punishment?
My clit throbbed at the idea.
"We ask for professional communication, both digitally...and in person. And sure, maybe it's a little old-fashioned, but it IS a company requirement."
"What is?" I asked nervously.
"That you call me sir," he replied, as though it was obvious. My cheeks burned at his patronizing tone, and I nodded.
"Now," he said firmly. "Would you like to try that again? What number were we at?"
"Three," I responded, barely louder than a whisper. "...sir."
He nodded, and my shoulders slumped in relief at his approval.
"As you were," he said, and I turned back to face his chair.
CRACK.
"Four, sir," I moaned.
I could imagine Mr. Peterson sitting in that chair after I left, getting hard at what we'd just done. I could imagine him counting down the days until my next punishment, wanting to spank me as much as I desperately wanted to be spanked.
It was all fantasy, of course - to him, this was no more exciting than budgeting paperclips.
But it was a fantasy I allowed myself to sink into. I pictured him pulling out his erection, touching himself at the memory of what we'd just done...just as I had.
CRACK.
"Five!" I said, prouder of myself than I should have been that I hadn't gotten distracted. "Sir!"
As the warmth filled my body, all I could think of was making my way into the women's bathroom and getting off. Masturbating was the only way to relieve the tension that my spanking had built up...which was weird, really, since there had been nothing erotic about what we'd just done.
It was just a normal, everyday, routine disciplinary session...but I needed to get off. My body was on fire, and it was the only way to douse the flames.
