Spanked by my Boss
by Pan
Chapter 16
My heart leapt. It felt like my every nerve ending was standing to attention, desperate to hear Mr. Peterson's next words.
"Unless..." he mused, before a look of consternation crossed his face. "No. No, what am I saying. Never mind; it would be completely inappropriate."
"What??"
The words flew out of my mouth before I even had time to process them. If there was something -
anything
- I could do to feel Mr. Peterson's hand again, I'd do it. If there was any possibility of resuming my punishment, of once more finding my daily release, I wouldn't hesitate.
"I'm sorry," my boss said, avoiding my eyes. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's not even an option."
I could practically see it. My daily joy, sliding away from me. My chance of release, of resolving the tension that had been building in me for almost three days...
"Please, sir," I begged. "Please. Whatever it is, I'll do it."
Mr. Peterson raised his eyebrows, and I realized that I'd completely dropped any mask of professionalism. God, what must he have thought of me? I must have looked like a...well, I didn't know exactly what I looked like, but it wasn't the woman he worked with. It wasn't the well put-together, composed accountant who he'd dealt with over the months we'd been working together.
Worst of all...in that moment, part of me I didn't care. I didn't care if Mr. Peterson thought I was a lust-crazed slut.
I just wanted to hear how I could get my fix.
I took a deep breath, and tried again. "I just...it's important to me that we follow protocol," I clarified, trying to return to some semblance of professionalism. "I feel like I still have a lot to gain from the punishment set out by the EED, and I wouldn't want to miss out on a chance to improve at my job."
Mr. Peterson nodded. I don't know if he believed me, or if he was just eager to move past my outburst and get back onto normal footing.
"Of course," he said, before a dark look of regret crossed his face. "That's exactly the problem, however. The only way forward I can see would be...well, it would be outside the bounds of professionalism. I could never ask that of you."
I wanted to fall to my knees and beg him. I wanted to tell him that I didn't give a hoot about professionalism, about the EED. I wanted to tell Mr. Peterson that all I cared about was feeling his hand on my rear end. About watching him pleasure himself.
About doing all I could to get him hard and get him off.
But I didn't. I knew how important it was to my boss that we kept things above board. All that we'd done so far was part of the company's policy; I couldn't ask him to step outside of that.
Unless...
There it was again, that magical word. He'd worked out a solution, something that wasn't strictly allowed.
And he wouldn't have thought of it if he didn't want it, right?
My tongue darted across my lips, which had dried up in the air conditioning of my boss's office. Mr. Peterson had come up with a solution that he shouldn't have.
That had to mean something.
It had become increasingly clear to me that Mr. Peterson didn't want me, not in the way that I wanted him. But I knew from what we'd spent the previous week doing...on some level, he saw me as more than an accountant.
On some level, he saw me as a woman.
Was that why that wonderful brain of his had come up with a technically-inappropriate solution?
Was he finally seeing me as more than just a professional? I'd spent the last week cumming at his hand, then touching myself as he watched.
As he came.
Surely that had left a mark of some kind on his psyche. Surely there'd been some kind of lasting effect.
Perhaps he was, at last, viewing me as a sexual being.
"Ask me," I said, my voice raspy. I could feel my heart throbbing; I was so nervous about what Mr. Peterson was going to say next, I wouldn't have been surprised if he could have heard my pulse from across the room. "The worst I can say is no, right?"
"Well, no," he said with a small smile. "It's really not the kind of conversation a boss should be having with his employees."
"Please, sir." I returned his smile, and tilted my head to the side as casually as I could. "I promise, you have nothing to fear from me. I like to think we've become...friends."
My breath caught in my throat at the last word, and I wondered if I'd crossed a line. Mr. Peterson worked so hard to keep our relationship professional; it felt very forward of me to suddenly be declaring that it was anything more than that.
But either from politeness or agreement, he didn't say anything. He returned my smile, took a moment to consider what I'd said, and then gave that small nod that signalled he'd made up his mind.
"Very well," he mused. "But...if you find the suggestion off-putting on any level, I won't blame you if you walk out of this room and ask for a transfer."
"I won't, sir," I said, my heart pounding so loudly that I wasn't sure if he'd be able to even hear me. "I promise."
The idea of leaving Mr. Peterson, of not getting to see him every day...that sounded worse than anything my boss could possibly suggest.
"Well," he said, his hands nervously twisting a cord on his desk. "It occurred to me that we could probably continue with your daily punishment if...I wasn't in charge of my own release, as it were."
My brow furrowed. I could only think of one way to interpret my boss's suggestion, and...I was sure that couldn't be what he meant.
"Sir?"
"That is to say," he said, his eyes burning into mine as he spoke. "If after I took care of your needs each day...you took care of mine."
My eyes widened. The room began to spin. He was...he wanted me to...
God, no wonder he'd been so reluctant to bring it up. This idea was completely, completely out of line. Everything we'd done up until now, it had been a normal part of the job.
Here he was, asking me to...to
touch
him.
My boss wanted me to touch his cock. No, more than that. He wanted me to...to wrap my hand around it. He wanted me to stroke his erection, until he got off.
I felt like my entire world was falling apart.
My first instinct was to accept his offer - to march out of the room, straight to HR. Yes, I'd promised that I wouldn't say anything, but I hadn't...I hadn't been expecting
this
.
Mr. Peterson wanted to do more than just cross the line. He wanted to march across it, then set it on fire behind him. He wasn't suggesting a professional relationship. He wasn't even suggesting friendship.