When it was time for me to go to university my father arranged for me to stay with my aunt and uncle. They lived in this real big place, quite posh, it was. Aunt did all the housework herself and she was an excellent cook. They had a gardener in once a fortnight to keep the gardens and lawn under control.
Uncle had a home office and spent most of his day there. The only catch to living with them was Uncle's secretary and right-hand man. Gordon was about thirty and actually lived in. Apparently Uncle wanted him on call all the time when he was home, which didn't seem to be that often. He was always having to go off to places to sort out difficulties that had arisen. That, I assumed, was the right-hand man part of his duties.
For some reason I tended to act like a cat meeting a dog whenever I ran into Gordon. I don't know why. He just seemed to me to be too full of himself, too arrogant. I did my best to avoid him with the result that we all got along quite well.
The first half of the year I was doing really well at the uni. The second half, not so well. Most subjects I was skating through with no problems. A reasonable effort and I was doing fine with those.
Maths, I wasn't doing fine. I really think that the professor had a down on me for some reason. He was sarcastic and rude and his lectures were pathetic. It seemed to me that I'd be better off studying the stuff by myself rather than going to his lectures. So I started skipping them. Just that one subject, mind you. I figured that even if I failed that subject I could make up for it with other subjects.
The professor dobbed me in, didn't he. He sent a message to Uncle, noting that I'd been missing from his lectures and hoping I wasn't sick. He knew damn well I wasn't. He'd seen me around the place often enough. Just not in his lecture where he could use me as the goat.
Uncle nailed me when I got home one evening, and started to deliver a lecture. I was already feeling slightly guilty about skipping those lectures, and when Uncle took me to task I got all defensive. Actually, truth be known, I didn't go defensive. I went on the attack.
I was all teenage angst, rude and insolent, pointing out that I knew what I was doing and that I wasn't a child and I'd thank him to butt out. I know I hurt his feelings and upset him, but I didn't know how to back down and apologise. As you might guess, tensions were a little strained for the rest of the evening.
The next morning it was Saturday. Aunt and Uncle had both gone out and I was at a loose end, having nothing in particular planned for the day. I was just walking down the hallway when Gordon stepped out of the office and called me, asking if I had a moment to spare.
I stepped into the office. It was the first time I'd actually been in there. It was quite a big room. As well as the desk, there were several chairs, a table, and even a couch off to the side. The room was obviously used for business meetings as well as normal work.
Gordon was seated behind the desk looking at me, not smiling. When he found that my attention was finally on him he gave a brief smile and started to talk.
It took a few moments for me to really catch on to what it was saying, but then it dawned on me that he was reading me the riot act. Not only that but the swine had a sarcastic tone of voice that you could feel peeling little bits of skin off your hide as he talked. I'd heard of cutting tones but hadn't known that they literally made you feel as though you were bleeding.
He ripped into me for upsetting Aunt and Uncle. He tore shreds off me for skipping the lectures. He pointed out that the effort I put in at the university was barely enough to get me a pass. He was of the opinion that if I had really put some effort into what I was doing I would have been getting high distinctions in all my work.
I have to say that he delivered the finest telling off that I'd ever been unfortunate enough to encounter. He verbally reduced me to the size of an ant and then squished me. Any effort I made to defend myself was ignored. He just talked right over me, reducing me to a spluttering silence.
By the time he finished I felt about an inch high. Thoroughly ashamed of myself and mad as fire at him for making me face up to the truth. Because he was right. I had just been cruising instead of working. I made up my mind on the spot that I'd show him.
I still tried to put on a show of defiance at the end.
"You can't talk to me like that," I protested. "You're just my uncle's secretary. It's not as though you're my father or anything."
"And you can thank your lucky stars that I'm not your father," he snapped, "or I'd put you over my knee for the disrespect you showed to your uncle."
Oh, puh-lease. I'm eighteen. As though my father would spank me at that age. Gordon was way out of date. And a little imp of vengeful perversity bit me.
Now I was just knocking around the house. I hadn't got dressed to go down the street or anything. All I was wearing was a t-shirt, skirt and panties. It was a hot day and I'd considered a bra unnecessary. If I was going out I could put one on.
So he thought I deserved a spanking did he. I'd show him. I just peeled off my t-shirt so I was standing there topless. I paused a moment so that he could get a good eyeful, then pushed down my skirt and panties and stood there naked. (Trying like the devil not to blush and bolt.)
"Need a spanking, do I?" I demanded. "Don't let not being my father stop you. It didn't stop you telling me off, after all. If you think I need one, go for it."
Now I'd assumed that he would get all flustered and leave the room, and when he got out of his chair I damn well knew he was running and started smirking. The smirk sort of dribbled off my face when he sat on the couch and indicated I should approach.
He wouldn't really spank me, of course. He was running a bluff, expecting me to grab my clothes and bolt. I wasn't going to. No way. If anyone was going to back down it would be him.
I practically bounced over to him, still sure that he would have to back down. I mean, to start spanking a naked woman, one who's no relation to you, but is most definitely related to your boss? Uh-uh. No way.
That pig. That low swine. That animal pretending to be human. Do you know what he did? Do you? I'll tell you what he did.
