The Secretary

"Steff," he asked when the boy was about halfway to him, "Do you think I want to use them right now?"

Steff stopped. "Oh...um, yes, no, of course not."

"Correct," Mr. Spader replied, tilting his head toward his desk, "Now, if you would, place them on my desk."

"Oh, yes sir, of course, sir," Steff replied and turned to his left to take the box to Mr. Spader's desk, as he instructed.

As he made his way to the desk his eyes fixed on Miss Gyllenhall's bottom, so delightfully, so lewdly, jutting out toward him, seeming to get bigger and bigger the closer he got. His eyes were particularly fascinated with the glimpse of yellow panty, and it was at the location, the place, that was the very best part of a panty: the soft, rounded curve of her cunnie mound, tightly wrapped in bright yellow cotton.

His penis began to swell within his briefs. He tried to think of something else, tried not to notice the lovely shape of her long, curved legs, the delicious roundness of her bottom, the silky smoothness of her womanly thighs, the enticing seductive cunnie pouch peeking out just below the hem of her skirt. But, he couldn't do it. He had noticed previously the prettiness of Miss Gyllenhall's eyes, her lips, her skin. He could not really be expected to look away now. But, if he were in fact to develop an erection, one noticed by the secretary, or even worse by Mr. Spader, he would most likely be out of a job.

Maggie could hear the young man approaching her. She felt such an intense, urgent, compelling demand to at least decrease the arch in her back, to lower her bottom, but Mr. Spader had given her no such directive. On the contrary, he had been quite clear and explicit in his instruction to raise her bottom up. She could not, would not, disappoint him now. But, she felt so, so exposed, so ashamed, so humiliated.

Perhaps she could at least adjust her skirt, pull the hem down to ensure that her panties were indeed still hidden. That would be the demure, the polite thing to do. Her hands felt like they were burning, like the wood was on fire, but she kept them firmly stuck to the mahogany finish. She softly whimpered her distress.

Steff stopped when he reached Miss Gyllenhall's bottom, and Mr. Spader's desk. He gently laid the box on the corner nearest him. He wondered if he should say hello to Miss Gyllenhall. He normally would. It would be the polite thing to do. It would be rude not to do so. "Good morning, Miss Gyllenhall," he quietly offered.

"Yes," Maggie replied, not turning her beet red face, "Yes, yes it is." As soon as she said it she realized that her response was actually a non sequitur. He was just saying hello. He wasn't making an observation about anything. But, to correct herself at this point would only draw further attention to her error.

"The other side," Mr. Spader instructed the young man from across the room.

"Oh, yes," Steff replied. He carefully stepped around Miss Gyllenhall's thrusting butt, trying to keep his eyes averted, not just because her sweet delicious tush would cause his dick to further swell but also to avoid letting Mr. Spader notice that he was looking at his secretary's jutting rump.

Steff had no idea what had been going on in this office prior to his arrival. It was most definitely clear that it was something not appropriate. Still, it was not his position, as supply guy, to pass any judgment. Heck, he couldn't, shouldn't, even acknowledge that he was noticing anything. Hence another reason to lose the erection.

However, what was Mr. Spader doing on the far side of the office if something inappropriate was going on, and why didn't Miss Gyllenhall do anything to hide the fact? Maybe this was all just completely innocent? Maybe. Everyone does say that Mr. Spader was some strange dude. He placed the box on the other corner of his desk. He glanced at Miss Gyllenhall's face, not entirely sure that he really wanted to make eye contact, but perhaps some understanding would arise if he did.

Miss Gyllenhall though was staring straight ahead, another indication that something very strange was going on here, something that perhaps he had interrupted and should quickly extricate himself from. "Yes, well, um..." He turned away from Miss Gyllenhall, with both reluctance and relief, fixing his eyes on the floor as he quickly strode toward the office door. "I've got a lot of supplies to, um...organize." He did though at least stop at the door to ask, "Is there anything else, Mr. Spader?"

There was a moment of silence, a moment much too long for both Maggie and Steff.

Mr. Spader finally responded, "No, Steff, that will be fine."

"Yes sir, thank-you sir," he replied and immediately removed himself from Mr. Spader's office.

Maggie took a deep breath of relief. Thank goodness that was over. But, she knew it really wasn't. Her face would most definitely redden the next few times she would see Steff. She wondered if she should, or even could, explain it to him later. Not likely. It was probably best to just pretend that it never happened.

Mr. Spader strode up to Maggie, or more accurately, her bottom.

He leaned down over her back, looking over her shoulder. "Have you found the error yet, Miss Gyllenhall?"

"No sir, no I haven't." Clearly she had not, and his so very close presence wasn't helping matters. She felt under considerable pressure, her boss peering so intently over her shoulder, and there was again yet another pressure he was providing, one against her bottom, one that was more physical than psychological, yet also came with considerable emotional pressure as well: she could again feel Mr. Spader's swollen knob pressing against her butt.

"Well, keep looking, although I am not so sure it was on this particular page."

"Yes sir," she replied, turning the page. Apparently it wasn't on that page. She smiled. It was really quite nice of him to help her like that. Gracious, the documented contained 38 pages!

Maggie wondered if he knew that he was touching her with his penis. One would think that he would. If she could feel it then it could feel her. He must be feeling her soft bottom pressing against the head of his hard, stiff penis. But, sometimes one person is more aware of a physical contact than another.

One of her instructors at Weston College, Mr. Shore, would often reach around her body from behind while instructing her on proper typing and shorthand. His arm would occasionally press against the side of her breast. She most definitely noticed it but she never felt that he did. He was a very dignified, upright, and moral gentleman. He would never intentionally do anything like that.

This was clearly different. This was the head of an erect penis. Mr. Shore would certainly have noticed if his erect penis was touching her breast. Maggie suppressed a smile at such a thought.

She pointed at what could be the error. "This isn't it, is it, sir."

She was pointing at the phrase, "In forma pauperis." She was pretty sure she had gotten it correct, but was no longer at all certain.

Mr. Spader pressed his cock more tightly against her butt cheek and lifted his hand, as if he was about to give her a spank.

Maggie bit her lip and looked around at nothing in particular, waiting for her bottom to be smacked.

But, no spank arrived.

Mr. Spader slowly lowered his hand.

Maggie had been rather clever. She had phrased her statement quite carefully, like a good lawyer would. She had not proposed that "In forma pauperis" was the error. On the contrary, she had proposed that it was not. If he had said it was, then she could identify it as the error. But, it was no error on her part to indicate that it was correct.

"Yes, quite right, Miss Gyllenhall. That isn't it."

He shifted his line of vision from over her left side to over her right, gliding his knob along her bottom as he did so, momentarily breaking contact when the crown crossed the crack of her ass. "I suspect you shall need to keep looking," he added as he pressed his cock even tighter against her butt.

"Yes sir," Maggie softly replied.

Mr. Spader continued to read along with her, over her shoulder, at times leaning in closer, at times pulling back, at times shifting left, or right, each movement accompanied by a concomitant shifting in the position of his stiff dick against her soft round bottom.

Maggie's heart was racing. What was happening was now unmistakable. She had felt this once before, on a subway car, during a trip to Los Angeles. She at first denied what she seemed to be feeling. Most any girl couldn't really imagine that a guy would do such a thing.

But, it soon became very evident on the train that it was indeed true. Some strange guy was pressing his erection against her butt! She was naturally shocked. How could a guy do such a thing (but see "Riding coach" for an explanation).

She had reached back with her hand to brush the man away, but that only resulted in her fingers briefly making contact with his erection. Once she touched it she quickly pulled it back, not wanting him to think that she had done that on purpose, that she was trying to encourage him.

She considered turning to confront him, to angrily demand that he cease and desist such effrontery, such impudence, but she feared as well such a confrontation. Plus, he could simply deny it, and she might come across as the crazy, looney, irrational girl.

And, then, an older woman, standing in front of her, gently laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

As she looked up at her, beyond her large thrusting breasts, she saw that the woman was smiling down at her, knowingly. She asked, "Doesn't it feel nice?" or more like announced rather than asked.

"What's he doing?" Maggie had softly whimpered.

"What any sweet girl like yourself would want him to do, if she was brave enough to ask."

"Oh my," Maggie had softly exclaimed, and stayed quite still, as he continued to rub and thrust his hard-on against her butt, as the older woman pressed her breasts into her face.

It was so terribly humiliating, and even more so when she began to realize that she was getting wet and aroused, eventually squirming her bottom against the man's hard cock, albeit as subtly and discretely as one could, or should, on public transportation. She so wished she could take the older woman's nipple within her mouth.

When her stop arrived she quickly extricated herself from the train, reaching back behind her to discover a very evident wet stain on the back of her skirt.

Mr. Spader suddenly wrapped his hand around Maggie's waist and pulled her bottom tightly against his crotch.

"Waste!" Maggie suddenly exclaimed.

"What?" Mr. Spader responded, releasing his hand from Maggie's waist, albeit his cock was still pressed against her soft, pliant butt. "Another homonym. I typed 'waste' rather than 'waist.'"

Mr. Spader hesitated for a moment, actually contemplating whether he could lie, telling her that was not the correct error, that there was an additional error. But, that would be dishonest and disrespectfully manipulative. Of course, he was a lawyer, so it hardly was outside of his norm to do such a thing. Perhaps more importantly, he would get caught in the end, for there was not in fact another error. Any continued search would be in vain.

He stepped back from his secretary and made his way around the desk to his chair.

Maggie glanced to her left, although keeping her head still so that Mr. Spader wouldn't notice. Her eyes widened with shock at the very clear, large bulge protruding from Mr. Spader's grey D'Orsi slacks. She wasn't shocked to see it. She had clearly known it was there, although it was a bit startling to now actually see it. But, what shocked her most was that it was clear Mr. Spader was not a small man.

As Mr. Spader sat back down into his chair he quietly acknowledged, "Yes, that was indeed correct, Miss Gyllenhall. You can return to your desk and resume your duties."

"Yes sir," Maggie replied, hesitating though, just a bit, just in case he might indeed change his mind.

But, Mr. Spader opened a file and began to closely peruse the material contained therein, no longer even acknowledging Maggie's presence.

Maggie slowly pushed herself up from his desk, her back again feeling a bit stiff, her cunnie so terribly inflamed. She licked her lips, turned around, and slowly made her way out of his office.

As she did so Mr. Spader did finally look up, his eyes following the swinging of her hips and bottom.

This time Maggie did not look back. She knew where he was looking. She didn't want to embarrass him by catching him ogling her derriere. But, she couldn't stop clenching her cheeks.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day Maggie was wearing one of her more conservative business suits. She had wondered if perhaps she had been dressing too provocatively, seeming to actually be flirting with Mr. Spader, perhaps even enticing him into spanking her. It was now clear to her that a part of her, a deep, dark, secret part, was finding some pleasure in what he had been doing, and she was not proud of that. The recollection of her experience on the train had confirmed that suspicion.

She did not want to provoke Mr. Spader any further. She did not want to keep this job simply because she was providing eye candy for her boss, a tactic clearly used by some secretaries she had known.

So, today, she was wearing a dark jacket, dark skirt, black nylons, and heels. The length of the skirt would hide her panties well, even if she was spanked. Beneath the jacket though was a pink silk blouse. It was important to have at least some color.

The tactic appeared to be working as it was a rather dull morning, by that meaning there had been no chastisement, no castigation, no spanking. She wasn't exactly sure though how she felt about it, albeit also admonishing herself for actually contemplating the possibility that perhaps she missed the discipline.

Of course, its absence might have been due simply to the fact that Mr. Spader's schedule was so packed with meetings, with current clients, opposing lawyers, potential clients, and even judges. It seemed like there was an endless stream entering and leaving his office.

"Miss Gyllenhall." It was Mr. Spader's crackling voice through the intercom. "Would you come in here, please?"

"Yes sir!" Her heart raced. Had she committed some errors? She most definitely hoped not, but then a part of her kind of hoped there had been. She should probably be spanked just for having such a desire!

However, as she opened the door she realized that, of course, he was still within the middle of a meeting. Sitting on the couch and chairs around the coffee table were senior executives from the Bluestar industrial firm.

She paused at the door. "Sir? You want me? Now?"

"Yes, yes," Mr. Spader impatiently replied. "If you would please, come in here," waving her in as an order more than a request.

"Yes sir," Maggie replied, wondering what this was about, and then realized that they probably just wanted some coffee or something. She glanced over at the bar. There was coffee already available. Perhaps he wanted her to serve the men? That would be reasonable. His clients aren't paying Mr. Spader hundreds of dollars so they could serve themselves coffee. Maggie asked, "Would you like some coffee, sir?" She made her way to the bar.

"No, no, if you wouldn't mind, please, you can stay right there."

She wasn't near anything in particular at the moment. She was just standing in the middle of the room, feeling rather uncertain, and frankly a bit self-conscious. "Sir, is there anything wrong? Anything I can do?" "Well, Miss Gyllenhall, Mr. Barnes here has just informed me that they did not receive the Butterfield report yesterday."

Oops. She had forgotten to take it over to their office, as Mr. Spader had instructed. "Sir, I'm sorry. I totally forgot. I was, um...well, a little distracted yesterday."

"Distracted? You were distracted?"

She realized that being distracted was not a particularly good explanation. "Yes sir," she softly replied. "I can get it right now, sir. It's on my desk."

"No, no, Miss Gyllenhall, I have already provided them with my own copy."

There was a moment of awkward silence. Maggie wondered if she should just apologize, again, and extricate herself from the office. She knew though that once these men left he would most likely want her to return.

Mr. Spader eventually asked, "Do you realize the potential cost to our clients, to us, to the firm, of this...distraction?"

"Yes sir," she replied very quietly, her head bowed contritely, her hands clasped before her, looking as guilty, penitent, and remorseful as she could.

Mr. Barnes, the CEO of Bluestar, actually felt rather sorry for her. She was such a pretty young thing. He felt like reassuring her that it was alright, that there had been no real harm.

Mr. Spader got up from his chair and made his way over to stand near her, not quite by her side, but almost within arm's reach. He gestured with his hands, arms out, palms up and open. "Miss Gyllenhall, you've really left me with no choice. I must demonstrate to Mr. Barnes that we, this firm, cannot, and do not, tolerate such errors, such mistakes...such distractions. Do you understand?"

She thought she did. She figured she did. But her heart was again racing as she considered it. She felt a little light headed, a little faint. She glanced nervously over at the three men. She turned back to Mr. Spader. He really wasn't going to have her do this in front of strangers, was he? "Yes sir," she softly answered, not entirely sure she really did understand.

He instructed her in his typical business-like, dispassionate, almost indifferent tone, "If you would please, take the position."

Mr. Barnes' ears perked up, his eyes widened. What did Mr. Spader mean by that?

Maggie felt so nervous, and now so very much distracted and confused. "At the desk, sir?" "No, no," he replied, "where you are right now will be fine."

She was not real certain what she should do. Mr. Spader was so precise and exacting. She would hate to make a mistake now. This was perhaps her true test as a secretary. She turned around and faced away from the men sitting at the coffee table, presenting them her back, and backside.

She slowly bent over, her bottom gradually becoming increasingly larger and rounder, the back of her skirt rising a bit up her thighs. She placed her hands on her knees, and arched her back, thrusting back her full, round rump.

The men's eyes widened with shock, and excitement. They were expecting some sort of apology, or perhaps even a valid explanation. They were not expecting Mr. Spader's strikingly attractive and alluring secretary to bend over for them, presenting her bottom in such a clearly enticing manner. Perhaps this was why Mr. Spader and his staff so rarely made mistakes. Cocks instantly began to swell. One of the men immediately crossed his legs. Hands shifted into laps to hide any tell-tale bulge.

"Mr. Barnes, would you do the honor?"

Maggie looked over at Mr. Spader, a worried and embarrassed look in her eyes. He was going to have one of them spank her? Was this really fair?

Mr. Barnes, however, wasn't entirely sure he understood. "Excuse me?"

"Given it was your company that suffered the consequences of Miss Gyllenhall's...distraction. I believe it is only appropriate that you provide the punishment." He gestured toward Maggie's upraised and jutting bottom. "I believe ten would do." He turned to Maggie. "Would you not agree, Miss Gyllenhall?"

"Yes sir," she softly replied, her alluring saucer-shaped light blue eyes looking so plaintive. "Ten seems...reasonable." She looked out in front of her, at a painting across the room: an original Louise O'Murphy, "Girl reclining." The girl was lying on her stomach across a love seat, naked, her bottom a very warm sensual delight. Maggie bit her lip expectantly, warmth developing within her thighs. She shifted her feet a bit and arched her back even further so that Mr. Barnes would have a clear and ready target. This was just so, so humiliating, but so very exciting. Had her mother ever done anything like this? She did wonder.