"Meryl, would you be so kind as to stop by my office after work, please?"
An innocuous little statement but there was so much more behind it. The man who had called me was the CEO of the company. A man who was theoretically in my employ. I say theoretically because we both knew who actually ran the company and the power, and it wasn't me. I was just the putative owner, a worker in the company, learning the trade as it were under the master. I would eventually inherit the company in its entirety but until then Brandon was my trustee and actually had control.
Please understand that I had no objection to the way he ran the company. It was absolutely thriving under his aegis, making a respectable profit. Where my problem came in was learning the ins and outs of the company. I had absolutely no head for it and wouldn't dream of trying to take over, even when my guardianship lapsed. Brandon, on the other hand, had been instructed by my dear departed father to make sure I knew how to run the place and he was following his instructions, my father's dead hand reaching out to try and control my life.
That was an ongoing issue between Brandon and myself and I think I was beginning to persuade him around to my viewpoint. Why should I run a business badly when I could become a teacher? I love teaching and I'm good at it. If I could I'd ditch the company today and get a teaching job. Still, I'd work on it.
"Um, what's it about," I asked cautiously.
"Oh, I think you know," he said, and hung up.
I knew all right. I just didn't think that he knew. I wonder is someone had ratted me out. There'd been an incident on the factory floor. Totally not my fault and no-one had got hurt.
Well, maybe it was a little my fault and the no-one hurt bit only counted if you don't consider the poor man who wet himself. I'm sure his feelings were hurt. But really, there was no need to make a fuss about it and I suspected Brandon would.
After work had finished for the day I got ready to go and see Brandon. Really, what could he do to me apart from yelling a bit? Nothing, that's what, and all I had to do was look contrite and everything would be sweet.
Um, remember last time and what you said and what he said, a little voice prompted me. That was nothing, I told myself firmly. He was just feeling irate and expressing that. He wouldn't really follow through.
What had happened after the last little incident, again, not really my fault, was that I'd challenged Brandon while he was yelling at me. I effectively told him that there wasn't anything he could do to me as I was the owner. He'd given me this truly evil smile before he replied.
"If I find that you're the cause of another accident I will put you across my knee and paddle your bottom until you have to work at your desk standing up for the next week," he'd said, and he'd certainly sounded as though he'd meant it.
"You wouldn't dare," I'd huffed and he'd just laughed.
"Try me and see if I dare," he said and chased me out of his office.
As I approached his office I couldn't help but remember his threat. OK. Where Brandon was concerned it was more a promise than a threat. He wouldn't, I told myself. Remember when you were thirteen, a little voice prompted me. It was a case of ouch, I certainly remembered. I'd been a bit of a brat and was rather rude to him, knowing that even if he complained to my father he wouldn't do anything. The rotten sod had just hauled me over his knee and paddled me hard.
"Feel free to tell your father," he said afterwards, knowing damn well that I wouldn't.
Still, I told myself, there's a big difference between the thirteen you were and the eighteen that you now are. Yes, I know, another part of me said. You were a child and now you're an adult and he's a big man with rather a lot of sex appeal. Too much sex appeal.
I considered what I was wearing. A pencil type skirt that was shortish while being within company guidelines. A frilly button-up blouse that, while not actually transparent, certainly let the outline of my bra show. But still within company guidelines, I assured myself.
If, god forbid, he did try to spank me would he push my skirt up or take it down? I suspected that he'd either have to spank me with the skirt on or take it off, because I couldn't see it being pushed up very easily.
I thought of him taking my skirt down to spank me, leaving me in a rather skimpy pair of lacy panties. I felt a lick of heat in the area covered by those panties at the thought. What would I do if he decided to spank my bare bottom? Effectively naked in front of him, bent over his knee with everything exposed. Would he just spank me or would he want to touch me as well, making the spanking an excuse. I promptly decided that if he wanted to touch me he'd do so and he wouldn't use spanking as an excuse. He'd touch me simply because he wanted to and could.
At that thought a much larger flare of heat blossomed inside me. Dear god, I was getting aroused at the idea of Brandon touching me. That would never do. Remember the putative spanking, I urged myself. That made it worse for some reason. I could imagine his big hand landing on my bare bottom, those long fingers of his grazing the edges of my pudenda. If that happened should I protest or pretend it never happened? I didn't know. I don't think they had etiquette rules covering that sort of thing. Did they have rules for when a man can spank you?
When I reached Brandon's office I'd talked myself into a proper state. I'd imagined everything from a simple lecture to being stripped and beaten while naked. Then I'd wondered what would happen afterwards if I was naked. Whatever happened in that office I was flushed and aroused before even going through the door. I really wanted to turn and bolt.
I knocked and entered when Brandon yelled. He just sat behind his desk giving me a cold look.
"Well?" he asked.
"Well what?" I asked, puzzled.
"Your explanation for what happened on the factory floor," he said. It sounded as though he was speaking through gritted teeth.
My immediate thought was damn, someone did rat me out.
"Well, I know that there was some sort of incident while I was down there but I had nothing to do with it," I said righteously.
"You're saying you weren't standing in a protected area, causing Sam to almost have a heart attack in his hurry to shut down the machinery?"
Oh, Sam. He was the guy who'd wet himself. Easily upset apparently.
"I didn't know it was a protected area," I said defensively. "There should be signs up warning people."
"There are. Several of them. As a matter of fact you were standing right next to one. I have, by the way, arranged a nice bonus for Sam for his quick thinking and quick action."
I nodded approvingly at that. Something like that should be rewarded.
"I've also arranged to deduct the amount from your allowance," he added, which I wasn't quite so happy about. I gave him a nasty look.
"Apart from the fact that you wander around a dangerous area like a blindfolded donkey there is one other small matter that you might care to clarify. Why were you on the factory floor in the first place?"
Well that was an easy one to answer.
