“Let me see it,” she said, stalking over to his desk and holding out her hand. “Let me see it right now.”
“As you wish.”
Roark reached into a desk drawer and pulled out the document she’d signed only that morning.
“Here you are.” He placed the thick document on the desk in front of her and leaned back in his chair, steepling his long fingers as he watched her.
Sammi snatched up the document and peered at it. She’d been fighting the headache from all that champagne Meg had talked her into drinking when he gave it to her, and she’d barely glanced at it as she signed wherever he pointed. Now she wondered what the hell it was she’d put her name on!
“You’ll find the punishment clause on page fifty-three, right after the non-disclosure agreement,” he said helpfully as Sammi paged through the dense legalese trying to find what he was talking about.
Sure enough, when she turned to page fifty-three, she saw something she definitely shouldn’t have missed when she signed. Punishment Clause—Consequences for Illegal or Unethical Behavior, read the page, in large, bold print.
“This is crazy!” she exclaimed as she read through the clause. “I thought this was just part of the nondisclosure agreement!”
“It is…in a way,” Roark remarked. “It tells the consequences if you get caught divulging confidential information. Or acting in any other unethical manner. Including lying.”
“But…but this says you can…can spank me if you want to!” Sammi exclaimed.
“Yes, it does.” He nodded calmly, as though this was a completely normal requirement of any job.
“But I didn’t agree to that!” Sammi exclaimed.
“I’m afraid you did—when you signed the contract.” He raised an eyebrow again. “So I’ll ask you just once more—are you or are you not hung-over from drinking too much alcohol last night?”
“I was only drinking to celebrate getting this job!” Sammi snapped, glaring at him.
“I see.” Roark rose suddenly and came around the desk to stand beside her—though “to loom over her” might have been a better description. He was so tall, Sammi thought, looking up at him uneasily. Almost seven feet if he was an inch! And so big and muscular too—the crisp white lab jacket he wore bulged in the biceps, as though the fabric could barely contain his muscles.
He smelled good too—which was definitely something she didn’t want to notice. A cool scent, like the sea in winter and under that, a dark, alien spice which made her tingle in sensitive areas when she breathed it in.
“I see,” he said again, looking down at her. “Does this mean you’re admitting your first denial about being hung-over was a lie?”
Sammi felt her mouth going dry as her knees trembled under her professional black pencil skirt.
“I…I don’t…” She licked her lips. “I never said—”
Roark raised a hand to stop her.
“Tread carefully, Samantha. The punishment will be more severe if you compound your first lie with another.”
“What—you’re saying you want to punish me now?” Sammi’s eyes widened and she took a step back, her thighs hitting the edge of his desk and jostling some paperwork there.
“I most certainly do,” Roark said sternly. “I won’t tolerate dishonesty from you—not even in small particulars, Samantha. And I also won’t allow you to come to work and be involved in my research when you’re at less than one hundred percent mental acuity. Coming to work hung over and lying about it are both unacceptable behaviors which deserve a punishment.”
“But I can’t let you—I mean, you can’t do that!” Sammi blurted. “You can’t spank me.”
“According to the contract you signed, I certainly can,” Roark pointed at the thick document she still held in trembling hands. “Or would you like to be let out of it? Do you find the job not to your liking?”
“I hardly know—I’ve only been doing this ‘job’ for half a day! You know, I’m a professional!” Sammi exclaimed—she was losing her fear and disbelief and getting really angry now. “I have advanced degrees in my field! I didn’t work my ass off in grad school to come to your lab and bend over your knee and let you spank me!”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Actually, you will be bent over my desk,” he rumbled with deceptive mildness. “Unless you prefer my knee?”
“No, I don’t prefer your knee! I don’t prefer to be spanked anywhere at all!” Sammi exclaimed.
“Very well.” Roark went to the door of his office and threw it open for her. “Then you may leave. Good day, Samantha.”
Sammi stared in appalled silence at the open door and then up at her boss. She literally had no idea what to say. She’d never even imagined such a scenario when she took this job—it was unthinkable. For a moment, she wondered if she was dreaming.
“Go on,” Roark nodded at the open door. “Please leave. I’ll send you a credit slip for the hours you’ve worked today along with your termination notice.”
“But…” Sammi’s mouth was dry as she remembered the pictures on her phone and the note on the counter of her house back in Tampa. It would also look really bad on her résumé to have worked only four hours at a job with the prestigious Commander Roark before being fired. “But I need this job!” she blurted out.
“All right, then.” Roark closed the door and walked back to loom over her. “In that case, you’d better bend over my desk and raise your skirt.”
“I…you can’t…” But it appeared that he could. The question was—was she going to let him?
Lifting her chin, Sammi glared up into those strange, stern eyes. Roark looked back at her, unflinching and it felt to Sammi like he was looking into her very soul. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she could feel her cheeks getting hot. She was determined not to be intimidated but there was something about his stern demeanor that did something to her. As she looked at him, she felt a strange tightening in her lower belly—a heat between her thighs that hadn’t been there before.
Wait…was this strange scenario with her boss actually turning her on?
Don’t be stupid! Sammi told herself angrily. Of course it’s not turning you on! He’s being an overbearing asshole, demanding you let him spank you for some minor infraction! This is crazy—this is wrong! This is ridiculous.
But no matter how she described the predicament she found herself in, she couldn’t think of any way out of it other than to let Roark spank her.
Clenching her hands into fists, she bent stiffly over the desk, bracing herself against its edge.
“Very good,” Roark murmured. “But I believe I told you to pull your skirt up, Samantha. And have the goodness to remove your lab coat as well, please.”
“Can’t believe I’m doing this!” Sammi muttered to herself as she rose and took off her white lab coat in quick, jerky motions. She tossed it over to her workstation, where it hit the chair and slithered to the floor with a rustling sound. Then she grabbed her black pencil skirt and began to yank it up, baring first the backs of her thighs, and then her black lace panties.
All the time her heart was pounding with a mixture of fear, fury, and some other emotion she couldn’t name or define, even to herself. Whatever it was, she had to admit it was making her even hotter between her thighs and her breath was coming in short little pants.
As a last gesture of defiance, before she leaned over the desk again, she looked Roark in the eyes once more and deliberately pulled her lacy black panties down to her thighs. Then she leaned over, gripped the edge of the desk, and looked up at him as she offered him her bare ass.
“All right,” she snapped—well, she tried to snap. What came out, to her chagrin, was more of a breathless whisper. “All right, I’m ready for my punishment.”
“Very good.” He nodded in approval. “The removal of your underthings wasn’t necessary, but it’s a very nice touch. I like a female with a strong spirit.”
Before Sammi could reply, his hard pal
m connected with her bare bottom with a loud smack!
“Oh!” Sammi couldn’t help crying out as she jumped in surprise. She’d been thinking that the “punishment” was meant to be some kind of superficial show of his authority but when he spanked her it really hurt.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw a large red handprint forming on the pale white curve of her ass and the skin where he had spanked her was tingling and warm.
“That’s one,” Roark said sternly. “For the first lie you told. I’ll give you another for coming to work in an impaired mental state and a third for defiance. Then you may pull down your skirt and get back to work—if you can still sit down.”
Before Sammi could answer, he spanked her again and then a third time. Smack…smack!
Sammi bit her lip and tried not to cry out but little gasps of pain were drawn from her anyway and she found herself jumping with each impact.
As he had promised, Roark straightened up after the third blow and nodded at her.
“Very well, Samantha—you’ve been punished. Now get back to work.”
Numbly, Sammi pulled up her panties and pushed down her skirt. She still felt like she was in a dream—a really bizarre one—-and even now she was wondering if what had just happened had actually happened.
Had she really pushed up her skirt, pulled down her panties, leaned over her boss’s desk and let him spank her?
The stinging pain in her bottom, which was now hot and red from the “punishment” he had given her, answered the question. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or rage at him but she did neither. Stiffly, she walked back to her desk and tried to sit down.
But though he had only given her three blows, her behind was much too sore for sitting. Sammi bit back a curse as she shifted around in her chair and found she was wholly unable to concentrate on the paperwork she’d been going over before this strange little incident began.
“Are you in pain, Samantha?” Roark’s deep voice was almost gentle.
Sammi’s head jerked up and she realized he was standing over her—she’d been so busy trying to get comfortable on her tingling bottom that she hadn’t even noticed.
“N—” she started to say…and then remembered the penalty for lying. “Yes,” she amended her answer grudgingly.
“Very good.” Roark nodded, clearly having caught her almost-slip. “I have some ointment which is good for pain. I’ll give you some if you like.”
“What—you want to rub it into my ass after spanking me? No thank you!” Sammi snapped.
He nodded.
“As you wish. Though if you’re implying that I would get sexual pleasure from treating your injuries, you’re wrong.”
He went back to his desk, leaving Sammi to squirm uncomfortably—which she did, for the rest of the day. At quitting time—which today was precisely five o’clock—Roark rose from his desk and looked at her.
“Good evening, Samantha. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven sharp,” he said.
He waited until Sammi rose from her workstation and then opened the door for her to usher her out. The implication was clear—he didn’t yet trust her to be in his lab alone. Well, that much was obvious, Sammi thought with irritation. Considering there was a whole other area of the lab which remained locked and which Roark had yet to show her.
As she walked past him, he slipped something into her pocket.
“Hey! What…?” Sammi looked up at him in surprise but he had already locked the lab door behind them and was walking away, down the long silver corridor.
“Seven sharp tomorrow,” he called over his shoulder. “And please come in ready to work.”
Sammi didn’t answer him. Instead, she fumbled in her pocket and came up with a small pot of pale pink ointment. There was a little note stuck to the lid and when she unfolded it she saw a strong, masculine script.
For sensitive areas, the note read. Only that and nothing more.
For a long moment Sammi stood in the corridor, clutching the little pot of ointment in her fist so hard that the lid left an imprint on her palm. She watched Roark’s broad back retreating down the hall, seething inside as she glared at him.
Arrogant prick!
Then she stuffed the pot of ointment back in her pocket, turned on her heel, and walked in the opposite direction.
Five
Shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have added the Punishment Clause to her contract, Roark thought as he bid his new assistant farewell and turned to walk down the long silver corridor. That was dangerous and you know it!
But he’d had to know how she would react to a direct order, he argued with himself. He’d had to see if she was the one to try out the prototype—the pieces of the fertility and insemination machine he was working on. He needed an assistant who was submissive enough to agree to the trials yet passionate enough to give him a true reading on each of them. By bending over his desk for a spanking and yet being defiant about it at the same time, Samantha had proved she fit both criteria.
Though he would be lying if he claimed that was the only reason he’d spanked her. He would also be lying if he said that he hadn’t derived any pleasure from the experience.
The defiant little tilt of her chin and the flash of her lovely green eyes as she’d yanked down her panties had gone straight to his shaft. Not to mention the sight of her lovely full ass turning from pale creamy white to sunset red after his three well-placed spanks.
He hadn’t made the offer of the ointment because he wanted to touch her again however—though he had to admit he did want that, very badly. He had honestly wanted to alleviate her pain. She had paid for her insubordination with her submission—there was no need for the discomfort to continue.
Samantha, however, was having none of it. She’d been shifting in her chair at her workstation the whole rest of the day but she still refused to ask him for the ointment. Roark had to admit he admired her stubbornness. But he still wanted to alleviate her pain, which was why he’d slipped the ointment into her pocket with the note.
He hoped she would use it.
Remembering the flush on her pale, freckled cheeks and the fire in her eyes, Roark couldn’t help thinking he looked forward to watching her test the parts of his prototype. It was clear she would give him an honest reaction—which was what he craved.
It wasn’t the only thing he craved, of course, but he knew he couldn’t have what he really wanted.
He couldn’t have Samantha herself, no matter how badly he desired her.
Six
Sammi got out of bed and lifted her nightgown to look at herself in the 3-D viewer yet again.
It was her first night in her new suite—they all came furnished, which was good since getting furniture from Earth up to the Mother Ship would have been a pain. She’d had a quiet dinner alone—telling Meg, who had wanted to have another celebration—that she had a headache—and she was determined to get a good night’s sleep and be fresh in the morning.
Only she couldn’t sleep, damn it! And it wasn’t just because the ghostly handprints of her new boss’s large hand still decorated her ass.
It was because she couldn’t stop thinking about the spanking and the way she’d reacted to it. Submitted to it, if she was being truthful.
Why did I let him do that? she asked herself for the hundredth time as she ran her hand lightly over the tingling flesh. Why didn’t I tell him to shove his job and go to the Seven Hells, as the Kindred say?
She really couldn’t answer that question. True, she needed to stay aboard the Mother Ship, but she probably could have found another job to keep her here. Even if she was just working at one of the boutiques or restaurants that lined the large park-like common area, something would probably have been available.
As for the way a four-hour stint of employment would look on her résumé, she could have just not listed the job at all. The Mother Ship was remote and Roark didn’t seem like the kind to engage in idle gossip. No one had to know that she’d worked for him
for half a day and then quit because he wanted to spank her.
But somehow none of those things had occurred to her in the moment. And instead of slapping his face and walking out, she’d bared her ass and taken her spanking like a good little girl.
Or was she a bad little girl in this scenario?
Sammi didn’t know—she only knew she was angry with herself for submitting to the spanking. And even more than that, she was confused about the way the whole situation had made her feel.
Every time she remembered pulling down her panties and leaning over the desk as Roark loomed over her, she felt a pulsing ache between her thighs. Again she wondered if she was getting turned on by reliving the experience.
But that couldn’t be—could it?
Sammi had never been into any kind of kink. To be honest, she wasn’t much into regular sex either. Maybe it was because she’d never been with a man who really turned her on. Oh, she’d dated plenty of attractive men, but somehow none of them really got her motor running. And they all seemed to be the same in bed—boring.
They were all so predictable. They always did and said the same things—sometimes it made her wonder if they were all working from the same playbook. None of them ever surprised her.
Certainly none of them had made her feel hot and cold all over or made her feel achy and wet between her thighs for hours. Almost every sexual encounter she’d ever had, had one thing in common—they were all completely forgettable.
But there was no forgetting Roark.
Not that today at work had been sexual in any way, Sammi hastened to tell herself. But still…
Her hand stole back to stroke the sensitive skin of her ass again, tracing lightly over the ghost of a handprint that still lingered there. Roark hadn’t bruised her—it was just that her skin was so fair it showed any kind of mark left on it for hours.
Her eyes were drawn from the 3-D viewer to the dresser in her new bedroom. There was the little pot of pink ointment with the handwritten note attached to its lid.
Submitting to the Shadow: Kindred Tales 27 Page 3