Over The Boss' Knee (3 page)

F
or
several months she and Mr. Carlson fell into a type of routine — once a week
he'd tie her up and spank her over his lap or over the chair using his hand,
then twice a month they'd do a weekend session. On those weekend sessions, she
could use more ear-splitting wails and he could use more objects to paddle her
with. So far they'd used different riding crops, a ruler, a hairbrush, and a
small birch cane. The other part she'd worked out was the sluttier she dressed
the more money she could make off Mr. Carlson. The only sad part of this new
and exciting arrangement was she still didn’t have a boyfriend to enjoy the
horniest time in her life.

She'd
been seriously thinking of asking her boss if he had any single friends she
might date, because she was missing cock so bad. Of course she wouldn’t tell
Mr. Carlson that she was jonesing after some thick man-meat. They were strictly
nonsexual bondage - slash- spanking partners.

Then it
happened. Out of the blue. Mr. Carlson called her into his office on a Friday
afternoon for what she assumed would be them setting up a weekend spanking
tryst, because all the work for the week was done. But the minute she entered
his office she knew something different was up because he looked so upset, and
not upset in an, I'm-going-to-paddle-your-bottom way. No, he looked scared.

"I
received this manila envelope this afternoon," he announced without
preamble. She looked at the large envelope as she approached his desk,
wondering where it had come from because she handled all his mail and she'd
never seen it before. "It was in my locker," he said tersely, holding
the fat envelope up with a shake. "In my private locker downstairs at the
gym," he finished sharply.

"How
could ..." she started.

He
interrupted her. "You are not going to
believe
what is in
here!"

Dread
started crawling down her sides. The only untoward thing either of them had to
worry about was their illicit spanking and bondage sessions. "What is it?
You’re scaring me.”

"You
should be scared.” His voice was sharp with the motion of tossing down what
looked to be a photograph on top of his desk.

Tess
leaned forward, looking at the black and white picture he'd turned her way.
"Oh no."

She
clasped her hands over her mouth as she rocked on her heels, looking down at a
picture of herself tied over Mr. Carlson's desk chair with her thong-covered
ass exposed as his hand lay against her buttocks.
Caught in the motion of a
spanking
. Her cheeks instantly grew hot with embarrassment at the sexual
nature of the picture. Her pussy was barely covered and her legs, kneeling on
the chair, were slightly parted.

Her gaze
darted toward the doorway in the direction the picture had to be taken.
"Where could that picture come from? How could it be taken?" she
asked with a surreal, high voice.

Mr.
Carlson was shaking his head. "I have no idea. But there are at least
twenty-five of them in here. Showing many different times when we were, ah ...
engaged."

"No,"
Tess whispered, thinking about anyone seeing those pictures of her — of them watching
her so exposed. "Why?" she whined. She just couldn’t look at the rest
of the pictures and see herself that way.

"Blackmail,"
Mr. Carlson stated succinctly. "My marriage will be ruined over
this!"

Blackmail?
The thought of it was so alien that its meaning didn’t
fully set in Tess' mind, while her thoughts skipped to Mr. Carlson's claim he
could lose his marriage.

"That
can't happen can it? We won't let that happen!" she exclaimed. "I
will swear to your wife none of this was
ever
sexual ..."

"After
seeing
these
," Mr. Carlson barked. "No one will believe
that."

"Who
could do this? What could they want?" she asked with an anxious, high-pitched
voice.

Mr.
Carlson said nothing. He just looked at her very intently, then he handed her a
note, obviously from the packet. Her hand shook as she took it from him to
read.

"These
will be given to your wife unless the naughty girl comes to me alone, to get
spanked, tonight at six pm in the eighth floor break room."

Tess
nearly dropped the note, instead clutching it so hard it crumpled in her fingers.
Someone else wanted to spank her?
A stranger
. A blackmailer. On one side
she was afraid, but the other more complicated side of her was hot. Instantly
slick ... panties wet ...
hot
. Oh God. How
could
she?

"No
one is up on t-the eighth floor, it's under remodel," she stuttered.

"My
wife will never believe me," Mr. Carlson stated, looking trapped. "My
kids," he uttered.

He
wanted her to
do
it! And Tess felt horrible about his wife and kids, but
what stuck in her mind was about what people would think of her if those
pictures got out. She would lose her job. No one would want to hire her. She
was blackmailed too.

They
both said at the same time. "I can't let you do this," he said. And
she said, "I
have
to do this."

In the
end, her decision won. Then after a nerve-wracking hour wait, it was quarter to
six and time for her to go upstairs. Normally they'd both be gone by then, and
all but one or two late workers were in the main office. Mr. Carlson was
determined to stay and wait to see that she was all right.

"Here
give him this note from me," Mr. Carlson said, thrusting it toward her as
they stood outside the elevators. "If you are not back here or have not
called me by seven, I'm calling 9-1-1. Blast the circumstances," he
declared.

Tess
looked up at him feeling braver than she’d been feeling, having him in her
corner. She took the note, saying, "If it's just a spanking, I don't mind
so much."

She
blushed and she pushed the elevator button. Once inside the elevator she tried
to calm her pounding heartbeat by reading the note. "I won't hesitate to
call the police if anything but a spanking happens to Miss Brown. I have my
finger on the number and I will call 9-1-1 at one minute after seven if she's
not back in good shape."

"Wow,"
Tess whispered, awed that Mr. Carlson would be so forceful on her behalf. He
had so much to lose. They both had. "So I better make this work," she
muttered.

Then the
elevator dinged the eighth floor and the doors swooshed open. She tottered on
her black three-inch heels. At least she'd worn her more serviceable long
pencil skirt that day. But it was what she had on underneath that made her
anxious.

For
weeks now ... since the spankings had begun she'd been wearing skimpier, and
well frankly sluttier, underthings. Today she had on an extremely tiny pink
thong with a bow on the back of it, black stockings, and a ruffled garter belt.
On top she wore a pink-studded bra-lette that barely covered her nipples much
less her breasts.

Tess
nibbled on her bottom lip as she hesitantly left the elevator. She’d convinced
herself that she shouldn't have to worry about what she had on underneath her
clothes or she was going to push the speed dial button on her Blackberry, set
to 9-1-1, which she had slipped under the waistband of her skirt. It was all so
unreal, but the fact she was walking toward another man who was going to spank
her was slowly making her pussy throb harder with each step she took.

What
would the man be like? Young? Older?
Handsome ...

"You
need a date
too
bad," she muttered under her breath, and she
stalled at the door to the break room.

Her hand
nervously straightened her long ponytail over her shoulder, and then she
checked the position of her hidden Blackberry. She was thinking of backing away
and not going in. She was so keyed up with different emotions that she took one
step backward, away from the door

"Don't
turn around!" a deep male voice snapped behind her.

Tess winced,
turning her head with the natural instincts to look. She felt a large presence
behind her and suddenly a hand was covering her eyes. "Don't," the
voice hissed. "Look."

She
squealed in fright, immediately beginning to struggle, but a muscled arm came
across her much smaller waist.

"So
you want me to walk up to your boss' wife and give her those pictures? Or
e-mail them to everyone in your office."

Tess
struggled less and less with each word the man spoke, until she just stood and
trembled in his hold. "No, please." Her voice was small, and then she
added with a quiver, "Don't hurt me."

"I
plan to have fun with you, Miss Brown. No hurt unless a bottom spanked red is
hurt?"

She
hated herself, but she did like his tenor voice.
A lot.
And she could
feel his toned and muscular build against her. Some of her fear dissipated with
his assurance he was out for fun. "Why can't I see you?"

"Well,
Miss Brown," he said nudging her forward. She felt his arm move from her
waist and she heard a door open. The break room, she guessed. "Doesn't
this just add to the excitement?" he countered with his breath warm against
her ear, making her shiver. He sounded so male.

"What
are you going to do to me?" she whispered, sounding more vulnerable than
she'd like.

She felt
him reaching forward and a moment later something fluttered against the top of
her head. "I'm putting this on you so I can take my hand away."

Some
type of furry blindfold cover her eyes. She guessed it was like a sleeping mask
and she itched with the desire to pull up the blindfold and look at her sexy
sounding blackmailer. But he guessed her thoughts, or was ready, because his
hands folded around her wrists as he stood very close behind her.

"You're
going to do what I say, Miss Brown, and we are going to get along just
fine."

He'd
answered her question from before, while he held her wrists firmly at her side
and she wasn’t surprised to be panting lightly. Her entire body felt warm and
tingly.

"I
have a note!" She’d suddenly remembered.

"This
one?"

She felt
his big hand loosen on her wrist, then after a moment she heard his deep
chuckle and his warm hand returned. "You better not go too far with this,
Mr. Blackmailer," she warned, however it lost a lot of its power, because
her voice wavered.

"Duly
noted, ma'am," he murmured against her ear. "But I think he doesn't
give you everything that smoking hot body of yours needs."

Her
emotions vied between melting and intense curiosity about who he was.
Ma'am?
Just his deep voice drawling that word made her knees weak, besides his
appreciation of her assets. What did he mean that she didn’t get everything she
needed?

"You
like being tied up," he drawled lowly, heating her ear.

Oh no.
"N-No," she stuttered. "You can't do that now. I don't like it!
Mr. Carlson makes me."
Oh damn that did not sound right.

"I
insist."

Tess did
begin to think about struggling, but it was already too late. He was strong,
Mr. Blackmailer, and he had her wrists bound in front of her, in seconds, with
what felt like a thick rope.

"Please
don't tie me up," she panted.

His
answer; he tugged her wrists over her head. "Does your boss know how you
rub your wet pussy after each whipping, Miss Brown? I have pictures of that
too."

Tess
gasped, and then it seemed as if her wrists stayed above her head. Was she hung
like this? She twisted her wrists. Yes she was!

"You
can't show him!" she exclaimed, while she tried to stay up on her tiptoes
and not lose her high heels in the battle. She tugged on her wrists heaving
with fear and ridiculously with excitement. Her pussy throbbed and her entire
body flushed with arousal.
What would he do with her?

"I
won't show your boss those pictures if ..." His voice was hot against her
ear as his big hands gripped her waist pulling her hips backward slightly,
which bent her forward more. Perfect for spanking her, while she hung unable to
stop him.

"If?"
She was panting now with shivers running over her skin. She'd never felt so
electrified.

"You
let me see your tits, while I spank your naughty ass."

"Oh
god," she moaned unable to stop the wanton sound.

"I
take that as a yes."

"Oh
n-no!" she exclaimed, then she stuttered, "Please, I-I ..."

"It's
an easy decision, Miss Brown, either you let me open your blouse and bare your
tits or I give these pictures I have of you here ... let's see what I have.
Here is one of you on your hands and knees rubbing your pussy with your thong
pulled down to your knees. Ah, you are on the floor of your boss' office."

"No!"
Tess squealed, fighting the ropes tied around her wrists.
He had pictures of
that.
Oh my god no, no, no! She'd die of embarrassment if anyone in her
office saw those. "Yes! Yes, look at my breasts but give me those
pictures! You cannot show those pictures to anyone."

"It's
a deal then," he proclaimed, and she felt the length of his strong body
pressing into her body from behind. Then his warm hands cupped her breasts over
her silk blouse. It felt as if her breasts just leaped into his hands. She
could feel his hard erection pressing into her bottom. Mr. Blackmailer had a
big hard on!

"God."
Mr. Blackmailer nearly groaned. "Perfect," he uttered.

Tess
felt an extraordinary feeling washing over her. It was pride mixed with hot
arousal and tinged with fear. It was a very heady combination and she barely
caught back a moan. It was dawning on her that Mr. Blackmailer intended much
more than Mr. Carlson had ever done. Then all intelligent thought left her as
he squeezed her breasts and her nipples hardened, while he pressed the
impression of his rigid cock into her behind.