Hayley daydreamed as she stared at her computer screen, wondering if the day would ever end, if even lunchtime would ever arrive. Bored, she sipped her tea, then ate a sweet.
She was still chewing on the sweet when she heard his voice. It was like stepping barefoot onto fresh snow; all of her senses were instantly alive, like a police siren flashing behind you. She could hear him through the open door to her office, talking to the new girl at the front desk. It had been eight months since he’d last been in, and it was telling that she knew exactly how long it’d been. A little chill ran up her spine. He was too old for her, far too old, and an American, but there was something about him that attracted her like no other man she’d ever met. Nothing had ever happened, of course, both of them always behaving in the most proper of fashions.
To the new girl, he said, “I’m fully aware that I don’t have an appointment, but I’ve been a client here for twenty years. I would think one of them would have time to see me.” There was more edge in his voice than she was used to. She went to the door, her pulse already elevated at the thought of seeing him. Did he have any idea of the effect he had on her? Of how often he intruded on her thoughts, especially late at night on those occasions she slipped her hand between her legs?
He saw her in the doorway; she smiled, but he did not. He walked around her assistant’s desk, his body tense, a letter in his hand. She always forgot how tall he was, at least 6’ 1” or 6’ 2”. His hair may have had a touch more gray in it than the last time she’d seen him, but he still had the great shoulders, and that face she so wanted to kiss every centimeter of. He waved the letter at her and she immediately recognized the HMRC letterhead, and began to worry. “It says I owe them $84,000.” Well, that would explain why he wasn’t happy.
She carefully took the letter from him, then gestured for him to follow her into her office as she tried to skim the letter. He closed the door, then followed her to her desk. He said, “$84,000, can you believe that? Plus interest and taxes. Actually, it’s 84,000 pounds. Christ, how much is that?”
Without thinking, she said, “As of this morning, about $105,000.” She was having a hard time getting much from the letter, other than she did see the £84,000 glaring at her. She could not believe she’d made that large of a mistake. She couldn’t believe she’d made any mistake on his account. She sat down in her chair. Slowly, like he didn’t want to, he sat down. Finally, she gave up on the letter, put it down and managed to meet his eyes. Ouch. She wanted to look away, but didn’t.
He looked like he was trying to remain calm, but was only barely managing it. This worried her because he always appeared totally confident, totally in control. He said, “This really bothers me.”
“I understand. If you’ll give me a few hours to look into this, make a few phone calls, I’m sure we can figure out what happened.” She wanted to say that they would make it go away, but she was afraid to promise that.
Angrily, he said, “These last few years, you guys have grown so much. I just, I just don’t think my account is that important to you anymore.” He looked genuinely wounded.
She felt gutted. Her mouth open, she stared at him. “Mr. Banks, that is absolutely not the case.” How could he believe that? How could she explain that she paid far more attention to his file than any other. She had his DOB, hell, his address in New York memorized. How often had she pulled out his file at random just to look at it, just to feel close to him, to run her fingers over it.
His eyes bored into her, searching, and she knew he didn’t believe her. She tried again. “Mr. Banks, you were one of our first clients. You will always be a priority to us.”
His head gave the tiniest of shakes. “It doesn’t feel that way.”
She remembered, when she was a little girl, Mr. Banks coming into her father’s office when it was just a tiny, rented office. How her father and he would tell stories and jokes. She also remembered, two years ago, talking her father into giving her this file, the one she wanted more than anything. It had taken weeks of pestering him, but he’d finally relented.
She asked, “Is it a case of funds? We can arrange financing if you can’t afford to pay it in the time allotted.” She immediately regretted her words.
His eyes narrowed. “You must have some idea of what I’m worth.” She did, at least in the UK. She had no idea how much more he had in the States. “It’s not about the money.”
It made sense to her then. He was hurt that they hadn’t taken better care of him. This wounded her heart, too. Of all their clients, for him to get this letter. She said, “Mr. Banks, I apologize. What can I do to make it up to you? A refund of our fees, of course.”
He shook his head ‘no’. “As I said, it’s not about the money. You completed everything this past year? Yourself?” His words sounded like charges being laid in a courtroom.
Her father had looked it over, but she wasn’t going to admit that. She nodded and said, “The last two years.”
“Then I need something from you that assures me that you will pay ample attention to my file in the future.”
“You have my word that no other file will get the attention yours will.” It was sad how true that already was.
“I’m afraid that’s not good enough.”
She didn’t know what to say. The silence grew, until it was deafening, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Finally, she had to end it. “Sir, I don’t know what else to say.”
“Words aren’t going to cut it.”
“Then what will? Do you want me to provide you something in writing?”
“I was thinking more you’d provide me your ass.”
She stared at him. She blinked. She couldn’t believe she’d heard him correctly. She stammered, “What?”
“Your ass. You deserve a spanking. For this.” He picked up the letter, waved it around, then dropped it back on the desk. “And in the future, if I’m not happy with your attention to my account, your ass will pay for it then, too.” He let her think about it a moment, then added, “Or I can take my business elsewhere.”
Now she knew her mouth was hanging open, catching flies as her mother would say. Maybe not the best moment to think of her mother. God, she’d had so many dreams of him taking her, of him dominating her. But now, it was far too real. “You can’t be serious. A spanking with what?”
“My hand, for a start. Right here, right now. One of us will feel better, after that.”
She looked at the clock. Her father would be back in fifteen minutes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She said, “I…I…”
He shrugged and stood up. “Or, as I said, I can take my business elsewhere. And you can explain this to your father.”
She could think of nothing as horrible as telling her father. He wouldn’t be angry, wouldn’t say anything, but she knew it would hurt him, hurt him deeply.
He extended his hand, for the letter. Instinctively, she pulled it away and blurted, “Okay.” It came out much louder than she’d intended.
In nearly a whisper, he said, “Okay, what?”
“I’ll let you…” God, she couldn’t actually say it.
The tiniest of smiles teased his lips, and she wondered for a split second if he’d set her up. Wondered, even, if the letter was real. It looked real enough.
“Come here,” he said. The command in his voice sent a raw shiver up her spine, hard and fast. “Now.”
Her body felt like a puppet as she stood and came around the desk. He didn’t move, his eyes tracing her body every step of the way. She stood in front of him like a naughty school girl, which is exactly how she felt. Very naughty.
“Take down your pants and panties.”
“What…I…no—“
His hand jumped out and cracked into her bum. Though it didn’t really hurt, it took her breath away, his touch. “Now,” he said.
Her hands shaking, she unbuttoned her slacks, slowly unzipped them, then froze. She wasn’t sure she could do it. Was pretty sure she couldn’t. He lifted his hand in warning, and she found the courage. She slid them down to her ankles.
“I prefer skirts,” he said. “Next time, you better be wearing one. Panties down too.”
She looked at him, her eyes begging. His eyes met hers, then he looked at her pants, then down at her ankles. Quick as she could, she lowered her pants down to join her slacks.
She stood there, exposed before him, wondering if he could tell how wet she was, if he could smell how wet she was. She’d only ever done it with one boyfriend, and that was mostly in the dark.
His hand reached out, played with her bush. “Next time, I think this will need to be waxed.”
Next time caught in her mind. She wanted there to be a next time.
A finger slid between her thighs, teasing her clit, then finding her pussy. “My God you’re wet.” He let out a wicked little chuckle. She tried to spread her legs wider, to give him more access, but her pants didn’t allow much. He whispered, “Good girl.”
He teased her, played with her, then his finger was gone. “Ms. Gregg, bend over the desk.” He said it calmly, like he was ordering coffee. She turned away from him, shuffled two steps towards her desk, pushed her hair behind her ear. She thought about cleaning off the desk, was worried about the files spread everywhere, but knew he wouldn’t have the patience for that. She bent over, the files and paper, and one pen in particular, near her left nipple, pressing into her.
“Grab the other side.”
She did, feeling her body tighten, feeling the papers shift under her, feeling her blouse slide up her back. He tucked the tail of her blouse up even further, exposing most of her back. She was naked from her shoulder blades to her ankles, exposing herself to the man she’d always wanted.
There was no warning. His hand cracked into her arse, the right cheek. A little squeak slipped out of her lips. Another on her left, followed by more. Smack smack smack, relentless and evenly paced, like he was in no rush. Could the new girl hear it? Would she dare say anything? It sounded so loud inside the office. The smacks continued. She tried to count, wondered if he had a number in mind—84?—but it was too intense and she lost the count.
Smack smack smack.
She’d always admired his hands, the strength in them, how large they were, the feel of his skin when they shook hands. And now she was truly feeling it. Smack smack smack, he spanked her, both cheeks. Christ, his hands were hard. After ten more, he said, “Lift up, on your toes. Present that ass to me like a good, English girl.”
She did. God, she would do anything for him.
Smack smack smack, he gave her a dozen more, his hand not getting any softer, her arse getting all that much more sensitive. How long would it go on? It was starting to hurt, starting to really smart, and she wondered how red it was. Would there be bruises? Did she want bruises?
Then it did stop. She turned and looked at him, started to lift up, but his left hand in the small of her back pinned her to the desk, heavy as a sack of cement, like she’d never move if he didn’t want her to.
His other hand rubbed her arse, squeezing it. It hurt and she loved it. “You have a lovely ass, and it looks even better red.” He spanked her again, two quick smacks on each cheek. He spread her cheeks with one hand, and she knew he was looking at her little hole. Oh My God. A fingertip ran from the bottom of her spine, slowly down her crack and over her arsehole. She gasped. It went further down, finding her wet, wet, wet pussy. Christ, she could feel her face turning crimson, to match her bottom.
“My, what a little slut you are. You’re wetter now than before I started.”
His very wet fingertip slid further down, found her clit like he’d done this a few times. He rubbed it in a circle, pushed it around, neither rough nor gently, but like he didn’t care all that much.
He said, “Have you been imagining this? Did you make a mistake on purpose, hoping I’d punish you like a school girl?”
“No, never, I’d never do that.”
“But you wanted this, didn’t you?”
She half moaned, “Yes.”
“I know. I’ve always known.”
She was getting close, already. She strained, tried to get her legs further apart, started humping back against his hand. She was making little noises, little gasps, embarrassing and desperate. He chuckled. Oh, she was going to come for him, she was going to come like she’d never come before. She opened her mouth, moaned, “Ye—“
His fingertip disappeared. She couldn’t believe it. Her hips searched for his finger, moving desperately left and right, thinking perhaps she’d been too wet, his fingertip had slipped off her clit. She tried to turn around, to find him, but his left hand still her pinned firmly to the desk.
“Did you really think I was going to let you come? When you’ve been such a bad girl?”
She groaned, having never felt so frustrated, so desperate. “Pleasssseee…”
“No.”
Smack, smack, smack.
These even harder than the first set.
On and on it went, smack, smack, smack, her bum hurting more and more. A tear ran down her cheek, landed on the file below her.
“Will there be any more mistakes on my account?”
“No..sir.”
Smack, smack, smack.
“I think a regular spanking each year, perhaps every six months, will ensure that. Don’t you?”
Smack, smack, smack.
“Yes, sir.”
He gave her six more on each cheek, and even dozen good and hard, then the hand pinning her was gone. He rubbed both her sore, sore cheeks, then squeezed them. She gasped.
“I’m so tempted to put my cock in you right now. Just like this. But that would be rewarding you.” Another squeeze. “But your ass is a beautiful color of red.
“Get on your knees.”
Ever so slowly, her backside unbelievable tender, she half-slid, half-climbed off the desk and went to her knees in front of him. The bulge in his black slacks was obvious.
“Do you want to take it out? Do you want to see it? My cock?”
She nodded.
“You may.”
She slowly reached up with both hands and undid his belt.
He said, “Yes, I’ll need to spank you with that at some point, I’m sure.”
That sent another surge through her frustrated pussy.
She undid the button at the top, then unzipped his trousers. He was wearing yellow boxers, little penguins on them, which made her smile.
“Go on, take it out. I already know you’re a little slut, no need to be shy.”
God, why did it turn her on so much when he called her a slut? She slid her fingers into the top of his boxers, then pulled them down. His cock sprang out, like it was dying to be free. It was bigger than she expected, and pointing up towards the ceiling. It felt unreal, that it was right in front of her, not a foot from her face.
“Go on, kiss it. I know you want to.”
She closed her eyes, leaned forward, and kissed the head of his cock. The skin was surprisingly soft. She wanted to kiss it again.
“Good girl. Now give it a lick.”
She did, savoring the taste of him.
“Do you want it in your mouth?”
She looked up at him, begging, because, yes, she damn well did. She wasn’t sure she’d ever wanted anything more.
He said, “Say please.”
“Please.”
“Please, what? Tell me what you want.”
“I want your cock in my mouth. Please.” She could feel her pussy getting even wetter, running down the insides of her thighs.
“Good girl. Suck on it. And if you don’t please me, it will be time for the belt.”
She took it in one hand, pulled it down a little, and slipped the head of his lovely cock into her mouth. She didn’t really know what she was doing, but she sucked a little, stroked her hand up and down his cock, liking the feel of his hardness, liking that she’d made him hard.
“Good girl. I can see you’re going to be doing this a lot, in the future.”
She took more in. He said, “That’s it. Keep your lips tight around it, like it’s the world’s tightest, wettest pussy. Suck on it. Or do you need the belt to encourage you?”
Christ, she could have come with the merest of touches to her clit, wanted to hump his foot as she sucked him. But she knew that wouldn’t please him.
She took more in, slid it up and down. His hand found her hair, guided her back and forth. “Tight lips, that’s it, use your tongue on the bottom.” She did, wanting to please him, wanting him to come in her mouth. She had never let her boyfriend do this. Asking wasn’t the way.
“You want it, don’t you. My come in your mouth? You want to taste it, swallow it.”
She nodded, going faster up and down his cock, her hand with her lips, holding them as tight as she could.
“Good girl. Soon now. Get ready. You better swallow it all, or it will be the belt.”
She realized his talking was turning himself on.
“Yes, that’s it. Soon, my little slut, soon you’ll have plenty of cream for your tea.”
That made her smile, almost laugh. Then she felt his cock grow in her mouth, couldn’t believe what was about to happen. She was scared, yet she wanted it with her entire being.
“Don’t stop, keep sucking. Oh fuck…”
She felt a little drop on her tongue, wondered briefly, was that it? Then he spasmed again, groaned, and she felt it hit the back of her throat. Suddenly there was a lot of it, pumping into her mouth, salty and slick. She tried to pull away, but couldn’t. She swallowed.
There was still a mess in her mouth, still the head of his cock filling her. Another pulse, more come in her mouth. She swallowed again, savoring how it all felt, the wickedness of it. He was done, tried to pull away, but she wanted to empty him. She pumped her hand up and down, up and down, her mouth sucking.
“Oh, you little slut. Good girl.” He pushed her away, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. There was a little come there, and she wondered if that was going to get her spanked, not having swallowed it all. She was surprised at how much he’d come. Was it always that much?
She slid off her knees, to one hip and part of her bum, then jumped as the carpet brushed against her well-spanked cheek. Worn out, she leaned against the side of the desk, the carpet scratchy on her arse. He reached across the desk, grabbed a tissue and handed it to her. He pulled up his penguin boxers and his trousers (she didn’t want to see his cock disappear like that, wanted to kiss it again, wondered when she’d see it again).
He said, “Your father will be here soon.” It wasn’t exactly the romantic thing she’d wanted to hear, but he was right. She nodded, then tried to lift herself up. She couldn’t. He moved closer to her, lifted up like she didn’t weigh a thing. He walked around the desk, picked up her tea cup and handed it too her across the desk, saucer and all. She took a sip (it was lukewarm but still comforting) as he came around the desk.
He stopped at the corner, staring at her. “Fuck, you look amazing. We should have a painting done of you standing like this, your pants down, your red ass on display, sipping tea. We could call it, ‘English girl sips tea.’” He was smiling, a big American smile, but she didn’t know if he was joking. He seemed serious. She sat the tea down, tried to pull up her pants, but didn’t think she could bend down far enough. She felt raw, undone, and couldn’t believe what had just happened. She tried to reach down again but he stepped closer and said, “I’ll do that.”
He took one of her hands in his, tilted her head with the other, and kissed her deep. Their first kiss, after he had spanked her and come in her mouth. She liked the wickedness of that thought, how slutty the order was. He kissed her again, and whatever doubts she’d had about what just happened melted away. It had been better and more wicked than any of her day dreams.
Very carefully, very gently, he slid her pants up, but they still hurt as they scraped across her cheeks. His fingers slid across her pussy, on the outside of her pants. “Still sopping wet, I see.” Another squeeze to each cheek, then he pulled her slacks up, gently over her ass, and did them up for her. She found it incredibly sweet.
She moved close to him, wrapping her arm around him, her mouth lifting up and begging for another kiss. He gave her one, his tongue caressing hers. She could have stood there all day, kissing him, but then she heard her father’s voice through the door. He heard it too, and looked that way.
He whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you five minutes.” He kissed her again, then started towards the door. He stopped, halfway there, his wicked grin back. “I’ll expect you at my hotel at 6 sharp, for your real spanking. I’m staying at the Beaumont. And don’t you dare rub that clit between now and then, no rubbing and definitely no coming, though I know you want to. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t be late.”
Then he was gone, the door open and closed, the wicked letter still sitting on her desk. She would need to hide that.
