by Bebe Wilde
He finally stopped dictating and told me to finish the letter off and yadda yadda yadda. I did so, then picked up my wine and took a small sip. Then I set it back down on the edge of the table. Without thought, he picked the glass up and placed it towards the center. I picked it up, moved it back to the edge and turned to him. He eyed me. I eyed him back and then I was just so sick of it. Seriously, I was sick of it. He and I stared each other down. He wanted to leap and move the glass but I had other things in mind. What is she going to do? he seemed to wonder.
I was going to fuck with him.
So, I tapped the stem of the glass lightly with my pen—clink, clink, clink—until it fell off the edge of the table and onto the floor. Wine spilled everywhere. There was so much I wondered if it’d been booby-trapped or something. I’d never seen such a mess and, for an instant, I regretted my actions.
He eyed the spilled wine, then turned to me. In a second he was on me and had me pulled up by my wrists. “You did that on purpose!”
I nodded. “Yeah, so what? You gonna fire me?”
He eyed me then thrust me away from him, going into the bathroom then returning with two washcloths, one wet and one dry. He blotted the wine with the dry one then rubbed the wet washcloth across the stain. I waited with anticipation to see what he was going to do to me. He continued to clean the stain, getting most of it up, then took the washcloths into the bathroom, came back out and turned to me.
“You can go now,” he said.
I nodded. I thought that’s how this would all end. Fine. Whatever. I grabbed my bag and started out the door when he threw up his hand. I halted and turned to him. “Yes?”
“The cost of cleaning the rug will come out of your pay,” he said.
“What?” I growled under my breath but didn’t say a word. Fine.
“And, just so you know, I will not be giving you a recommendation.”
“I don’t need your fucking recommendation,” I said. “I already have a job. I’m just doing this for extra money, that’s all.”
He nodded. “And what if I called your boss, who recommended me to you? She is one of my business associates and I do not believe she would like your behavior.”
“Are you threatening me?” I asked. “Because that sort of sounded like a threat.”
“No threat,” he said. “I do not do that. If I want to do something, I do something with no threat. That is the way I operate.”
He was such an asshole. He had such power and control it killed me, probably because I felt so out of control since I’d met Ted, had my affair and broken up with my boyfriend.
Without thought of consequence, I threw my bag down, stomped over to him and slapped him. Just like that. His head went to the side then came back to center so that his eyes were throwing daggers at me. I glared back at him, daring him to do something about it. Wanting him to do something about it. And, much to my surprise, he did.
He grabbed my arm and pulled me down with him into a chair so that my body was across his lap and my ass was in the air. Then he pushed my skirt up and he gave me a good, hard slap right across my ass.
Oh, no, he didn’t. Oh, yes. He did.
Before I could protest, he gave me another hard slap and another. I screamed as his hand slapped my ass each time. He was spanking me like I’d been disobedient and very naughty and that really pissed me off. I did try to wriggle out of his lap and gain some of my dignity back but he held me tight, not letting me move. Then he pretty much started to beat my ass.
Once it was over, he shoved me out of his lap and I teetered a little, trying to gain my balance. We stared at each other and I felt the sting on my butt. But then I realized something. He’d stepped out of line with me, way out of line. He had lost some of his precious control. And I had gained some. As he stared back, he realized it too and I could see regret begin to stamp itself over his face. It came out in ugly red blotches.
Well, well, well.
Without a word, I pushed my skirt down and picked up my bag again. I turned to leave and gave my ass a little wiggle before disappearing out the door.
* * * * *
“I would like to apologize,” he said, entering my apartment. “I was out of line.”
I had almost fallen over when the doorbell had rung an hour after I’d gotten home. I’d just stepped out of the shower and had thrown on my old, baggy pair of sweats and a white t-shirt. My feet were bare and my hair was still wet. He eyed me and I could tell that my sloppy appearance was bothering him. Good. That’s what he needed.
However, strangely enough I was glad to see him. I don’t know why but something about the way he took control of me and spanked me like that really turned me on. I would never admit it to him, but it did. I had a hard time admitting it to myself but it was true.
“I apologize,” he said and glanced around the room, seeming to breathe a sigh of relief that it was tidy, clean and organized. I could tell he liked my more modern taste in furniture and appreciated the expensive details of the apartment like the crown molding and the gas fireplace with the marble surround.
“Hmmm,” I said, thinking it over. It was good that he was apologizing. But I wasn’t about to let him know that.
“So, do you accept my apology?” he asked. “Can we move forward?”
“Maybe,” I said, turning to him. “However, I think you’re just afraid of what I might tell other people.” I smiled at him, loving the fact that I had him by the balls.
“Perhaps,” he said. “How much is this going to cost me?”
I thought about that. Yeah. I was certainly in the power position now.
“Name your amount,” he said, as if he were prepared to whip out his checkbook and write it out.
I didn’t answer. Mainly because I had other things in mind.
“Chloe?” he said. “Are we on the same page?”
He always asked me that. “Are we on the same page, Chloe?” Oh, it drove me mad. It was a business cliché I disliked. Everyone overused it but none more than him. “Chloe, are we on same page?” “Let’s get on the same page here.” “Chloe, I would like to be on the same page with you.” “Tell me we’re on the same page!” Just to shut him up, I’d eventually say, “Yes, Sven, we are on the same page.”
But, no, weren’t on the same page where this matter was concerned.
“Chloe,” he said. “Tell me how much.”
I didn’t want his money. I wanted something else from him.
“I’ll tell you what I want,” I said and went over and stood behind the sofa. I pulled off my sweats and kicked them to the side, then bent over the couch, my naked ass—still a little red from the spanking—in the air, inviting him to do something about it. Was I doing this? Really? Was I offering myself to him? Asking for another spanking? I was. Hey, I hadn’t been laid in a while and I’d never really been spanked. It was new to me and I liked it. I wanted a little more where that came from. And, really, where could you find a man that knew how to do that in this city? They were a rarity and he was going to do what I wanted him to do. It was that simple.
I didn’t even realize I could be like that, offering myself like that, that I could do something like that, which was a little slutty. But that was okay. Something inside of me guided me to this. Maybe it was because I was horny and needed to get laid, like an itch must be scratched. Maybe I was just looking for a connection, like the connection I’d felt with Ted. Sure, I was lonely and I was a little naughty but there was something about Sven that brought it out in me. A need had been awakened and I had to just go with it.
Besides, I loved sex. And it had been a while.
He didn’t move. I stood up and raised one eyebrow at him. He stared at me, at my tight ass and then at my face. We locked eyes and right then we both knew what we wanted from the other. We wanted to move on from this nasty little situation. He knew now where I wanted to take it. But where would he take it? Sure, he’d just wanted to buy me off. But
I wasn’t that easy. He should have known that.
He took a deep breath and came up behind me, grabbed my ass with both hands and squeezed the cheeks. Then he pushed my head down until I was bent over the couch. Then I heard him taking off his belt. Wait a second! I didn’t want that! I just wanted a spanking. But before I could protest, he gave me a good hard lash with the belt. Whack! I shuddered. It burned. And then I gasped.
“I will not play with you,” he said. “I will not.”
Then what did he intend to do? I realized I was quite under his control then and very, very vulnerable. Had I pushed him too far? What was he going to do? And when? How long did I have to wait?
The belt came down on my ass hard again. This time it hurt worse. I couldn’t move or think straight. I just stood there and let him whip me. For a second I thought I should run but then I thought I should stay and see where this would lead. Yeah, I was totally turned on.
“Umm,” he said, pausing, and rubbed my ass cheeks. “Tight. Is your pussy as tight as your ass?”
Wow. Ummm… Ow. My ass hurt a little and gave slight throbs occasionally, but his words overrode any pain I felt from the belt. I hadn’t expected that from him. Pussy? I’d never, in a million years, expected that word to come out of his mouth. But it was nice that it had. He was a little dirty. I liked that and his words turned me on. They were gruff. I liked that. But I didn’t know if my pussy was as tight as my ass. I guessed so. Who asks a question like that? How do you respond to something like that? However, I pretended to shrug it off.
He leaned in over me and pressed his face close to my ear and whispered, “I am a man, Chloe. What if I take what I want from you now? How would you react? You offer yourself without thought. But what if I do as I please?”
“I don’t know,” I said, wondering the same thing myself.
He slid his hands in sideways between my legs, grazing my pussy which swelled and ached for more. I was wet almost instantly. He pulled back and then pushed my legs apart with his. I heard his zipper open. I tensed. Was he really going to do this? I had been foolish to fuck with him. He was crazy. I knew that for a fact. Now what? Now I had to wait and see what he was going to do.
Without a word, he pushed his cock, which was quite wide and long, in. I moaned as he began to fuck me. He pulled back, grabbing onto my shoulder to get a better position. Good for him and certainly good for me. I wanted him fucking me like this, dirty and good. That’s what it was—dirty and good. Hard and swift. I held onto the sofa and met him thrust for thrust. We fucked so hard, I thought we’d collapse on the floor. Within seconds, we were both coming and coming hard. It was that good. He grunted as he came, as his hot semen splashed inside my walls, as he released his lust. My orgasm exploded in my body and made me shake and shiver and once it passed, I fell to the couch, breathing heavily.
He stepped away from me, zipped his pants and left the room, closing the front door softly on his way out. I stared after him, then caught myself in the mirror across the room. I looked like someone who’d just had the fuck of her life. And I was.
I decided to take Sunday off to sleep in. I didn’t think he’d mind.
* * * * *
Sven sent me a check the next week. My eyes nearly popped out of my head at the number. I’d never seen so many zeros on a check before. It was sort of like I’d won the lottery, yet on a smaller scale. But no. He wasn’t getting off that easily. I sent the check back.
However, he wanted out of this mess and every week thereafter, I’d get a new check from him. Each one was for a little bit more, as if he were tempting me to call the whole thing off, as if he were testing me. I kept sending them back, sometimes with regret. Even though I could have used it, I didn’t want his money in this way. I wanted him.
I don’t know where I’d turned the corner with him. Before I’d disliked even being around him but suddenly, I wanted him, his cock especially, fucking me. I’d imagine us doing it, almost exploding from all the desire and passion. Suddenly, he looked good and I had to have him. Of course it was the initial spanking that did it. It was that act of control that sparked something in me, that revved up my need and desire and most certainly my lust.
Suddenly, Ted disappeared from my mind. Suddenly, I was no longer worried about the lease on my apartment. The guilt I’d felt over my boyfriend disappeared. Suddenly, all I wanted was Sven. He was all I thought about. It was weird, mainly because I’d only wanted to get away from him before.
On the next Saturday, I arrived at his apartment right at eight in the morning. I let myself in with the key he’d given me and threw my bag on the credenza in the entranceway. I took a minute to look around at the beautiful apartment, so tastefully and expensively decorated, and sighed. Then I took a left and walked into his oversized home office.
His office was designed around several large, floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves that spanned the entire room. In the center of it was a large glass and metal desk that weighed a ton and cost a fortune. He told me once that they had to bring it into the apartment on a crane through the gigantic window. Behind it, his tufted leather office chair. Over to the side was a Chesterfield couch in camel. And looking out the window was Sven.
He was already up and dressed, sipping on coffee—two sugars and a splash, only a splash, of half and half—in a cup that read, “World’s Greatest Boss.” I knew whoever had given him that cup had been sucking up, obviously. Of course, he might have even given it to himself. He thought he was that wonderful. But in reality, he was the antithesis of a good boss. He was a bad boss. I just wondered why he used this particular cup so much. Did he actually think he was the world’s greatest boss? He was that egotistical, so it was a good possibility. However, the irony wasn’t lost on me, even if it was on him.
But that didn’t matter. When he saw me enter the room ready to work, his eyes widened a little. Without a word, I walked over to his desk, sat down and turned on the computer. Then I turned to him and said, “What’s on the agenda today?”
He started to say something but stopped himself. I could tell he was wondering where I was going with this, so he played along. Good choice. He had no idea where I was going but would soon find out. I’d been looking forward to this all week.
“Sven?” I said and adjusted my glasses. “What do we need to get started with today?”
“We need to go over the Larson files,” he said, then cleared his throat.
“Let me get them,” I said and went over to his filing cabinet.
We worked all day and even through lunch, as usual. He had some sushi delivered and we ate in silence as we worked. Around four in the afternoon, I excused myself to run an errand and returned an hour later.
“What took you so long?” he asked.
I stared at him and wondered why he, of all people, was getting snappy with me. “I dunno,” I said. “I had to buy some groceries and things for my apartment. I took the subway. It didn’t take that long.”
“Chloe, this isn’t going to work,” he said and got up from his desk and walked over to the couch. He sat down and stared up at me. “It’s not going to work.”
“Oh, it isn’t?” I asked and smiled at him. “What’s not going to work Sven?”
“This,” he said and waved his hands around as if to illustrate our situation. “Let’s stop this. I will hire a new assistant.”
Oh, hell no, he wouldn’t. I was his assistant. There was no way I’d let some new bitch come in here and take my place. He’d fucked me good the other night and he was going to do it again. Sorry, that was just the way it was now. He’d have to understand that.
I knew what made him uncomfortable was the fact that he had lost some control over me. That was fine by me because I liked having some control over him. However, once we started to get it on, then he could take over. He could have all the control he wanted. I wouldn’t argue with that.
“Is that what you want, Sven?” I asked and walked over to the d
esk, taking my place in front of it. “Or is this what you want?”
I began to unbutton my shirt, watching his eyes as I did so. He’d never seen my breasts or felt them before, mainly because when he’d fucked me the other night he’d just gotten down to business and did it without bothering with any foreplay. I could tell he’d been thinking about them, though, as I seductively began to unwrap the gift of my luscious breasts before him. And, yes, they were quite nice. They were a firm C and quite round.
I pulled the shirt open a little and took both hands and lightly rubbed my breasts over my bra. Then I slipped one finger into my bra, touching the nipple as I did so. He couldn’t take his eyes off me. I kept rubbing my breasts and watching him, lightly licking my lips as I did so.
“Chloe, this isn’t appropriate,” he breathed.
“Then how about this? Is this appropriate, Sven?” I asked and turned so that my back was now towards him and my ass was in full view. Then I pulled my panties off, threw them to the side and bent over the desk, spreading my arms out wide, moving his desk accessories and knickknacks out of place. I didn’t knock anything off or break anything, but he jumped up from the couch was about to cross over and start straightening things up when I said, “Nuh uh.” He stopped and watched me. I began to finger myself, finger my pussy, in front of him. I was so turned on, I almost came. I backed off and turned to him, loving the look of surprise and lust on his face and smiled.
“You know what I want,” I said and took off my glasses, throwing them to the side. “Are we on the same page?”
He didn’t answer. That was okay. It didn’t matter.