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.
As soon as I was within reach his arm came snaking out and grabbed me. One quick jerk and I was falling across his lap and he was holding me there. Then he hit me!
Now if I had even dreamed that he'd actually spank me I'd have assumed a few warning spanks to the bottom. You know, bottom pushed up, hand comes down and spank. Ha!
Gordon's hand came swishing through the air in a long curve that collided violently with my behind at the bottom of the curve and just kept going up. Then it reversed direction and swishing back down, my bottom again the target.
I squealed at the first spank and tried to struggle. His arm holding me felt like a rod of iron. I screamed at the second spank, because his hand when it hit felt as if that was made of iron. And he kept on doing it.
Turning my head I would see his hand curving through the air. Then it would vanish and I'd know just where it was going. There'd be this awful slap on my bottom and then his hand would appear, completing the curve, only to stop and reverse direction.
I squealed and wriggled and Gordon spanked and lectured. I would apologise to Uncle. I would put some proper effort into my school work. Yes, I would, I assured him. Just stop.
As if it was that easy. Gordon apparently believes if you're going to do something, do it properly. That way you won't have to repeat it. Heaven knows this was one task I didn't want him repeating.
When he finally finished he swung me to my feet and stood up. I was just standing there, feeling sore and sorry for myself, tears on my cheeks and red of face and bottom. At first I didn't catch what he said or notice what he was doing.
I must have caught what he said, because it slowly registered on my conscious mind. That's when I noticed what he'd been doing.
What he said was, "Now as to the sexual challenge you've thrown down," and what he was doing was dropping his trousers, and it was bloody obvious that he was ready for any sexual challenge that came his way.
He grabbed me and pulled me flush against him and I could feel his erection pressing against my tummy. His hands slid down my sides and around behind me, closing over my bottom (my very tender bottom) and slowly lifting me into the air.
I could feel his erection dragging against me as he lifted. I've always like to be clean shaven, with the result that I could feel him dragging slowly against my mons and then pressing against my slit before his erection just popped between my legs and he held me there, lightly resting my pussy on his cock.
No way was I letting that thing into me and I curled my legs up and around his waist, determined to hold myself up off his cock. My arms were hanging onto his neck. I mean, I was really clinging to him.
