Aspen's Betrayal

Hey all - As always, all this is FANTASY. In real life don't put up with toxic workplace stuff and don't drink and spank.

Maybe it's just me, but I haven't seen as much women-spanking-men content around as I would have thought. Since it's one of my main kinks, this story aims to fix that a bit. If that's your thing, knock yourself out. I mentioned it was fantasy but of course...I hope it's filthy fucking hot fantasy.

***

Men had been promoted to management positions at Marzanna. It wasn't unheard of. It was just rare. Still, when Crispin left Lady Cailleach's office following the interview, his promotion slip in hand, and stepped back onto the office floor of the massive law firm, he knew he wouldn't have to be here for much longer.

Marzanna's managers all had offices, enormous affairs with soaring windows and glistening views of Galina City's skyscrapers. No one on the office floor got those views or those privileges, stuck as they were in their miniscule cubicles. No one on the office floor was a woman either: all the women who worked for Marzanna were managers. And, at the moment, there were no men who were managers either. Lady Cailleach preferred it that way, which was why Crispin knew his promotion would be a big deal.

Now, only one hurdle stood between him and that office, that paycheck, that position of power. Something designed to keep him in his place, Lady Cailleach said. It wasn't personal, just company policy for men who wanted to become managers.

He had to ask one of the managers for a spanking. Not a light one either -- it needed to be a painful, humiliating affair, Lady Cailleach said. All the better if it was public. It needed to be demeaning, the kind of thing that would remind him that even though she was promoting him -- even though he had proven he had that rarest of combined legal brilliance and work ethic -- he would never really be on the same level as the women of Marzanna. And Lady Cailleach was going to decide if the experience had been degrading enough for him to earn a manager's office.

Part of him thought maybe she'd expected him to balk at this requirement, to just go back to the office floor and keep cranking out standard motions for the managers to use when they appeared in court. It wasn't unheard of for a manager to spank or whip one of the men from the office floor, but it wasn't really an officially sanctioned practice either. And it had never happened to Crispin.

He wiped one sweat-slick palm on his slacks and breathed deep, blood rushing to his face at the simple thought of asking one of his current bosses to spank him for a promotion.

Still, Lady Cailleach didn't know he had something of an escape hatch up his sleeve: Aspen Beira.

Aspen had gotten him the job in the first place. They'd been friends in law school, two of the top students trading places every now and then for slots in the top 10% of the class. Back then, Crispin thought, he probably spent more time with Aspen than anyone else, just based on how much they studied together; law school did that to you. He'd never told her he'd always had a crush on her, even though he knew she could probably figure it out herself and even though she'd had a boyfriend for the entirety of their time in law school.

Even so, they'd stayed good enough friends for her to recommend him for the job after they'd graduated. She'd had the offer to work as a manager at Marzanna in hand going into her third year in law school, and she proceeded to wipe the floor with opposing counsel in a string of high profile trials during her first year with the firm. Back then, Crispin was out of work -- the job offer he'd had after law school had fallen through -- and desperate. Aspen had landed him this job and he knew he owed her.

Plus, things between them had stayed friendly. He'd worked for her before on a number of her cases, doing the more mind-numbing research and writing, all the entry-level grunt work a case required while she set off fireworks in court hearings and power meetings with the opposition's lawyers. She'd never been condescending to him even though she could have been and even though most managers treated the office floor workers with a mixture of disdain and mockery. She hadn't reported him when he'd messed up either, even though it had happened a few times.

No, Crispin thought, Aspen wasn't going to make this the worst thing he'd ever experienced. She'd stuck up for him before, even when she didn't have to. And he was going to owe her for this, but it was still worth a shot. The other managers would enjoy this too much.

Like Chaya who, speak of the devil, had just stepped out of her office into the hallway a few yards away from him. Crispin tucked the promotion slip into his pocket.

He did not need Chaya seeing *that*.

"Well, well," she said, hands on her hips as she blocked the hallway. "What are you doing off of the office floor, brief monkey?"

One of his few fuckups since he'd started on the office floor had been a research error in a case Chaya was working on. He'd missed one of the most on point cases in putting a motion together for her and the judge had -- allegedly -- roasted her for it in court, in front of her client and the opposing attorney. Crispin was never going to deny he'd made a mistake, but Chaya was vindictive. She made his life hell every time he had to work for her now.

And sometimes, even when he didn't.

"I need to talk with Aspen," Crispin told her, folding and unfolding the promotion order in his pocket.

A smirk crossed Chaya's face, a teasing fire lit up her dark eyes. "Do you now?"

"Yes," Crispin said.

"You fuck up a motion for her too or what?"

"Chaya, please," Crispin said. "I just need to talk with Aspen."

Chaya's grin widened, but she still stepped aside and let him pass. He could feel her eyes all over him -- between his shoulder blades, the small of his back, his ass -- as he knocked on the door to Aspen's office.

Aspen was on the phone -- he could hear that much through the door -- but she opened it sooner than he thought she would. She nodded to him and smiled when she saw it was him and gestured him inside and pointed at one of the chairs across from her desk. Crispin slipped in and took a seat.

Still on the phone, she returned to her desk and took a bottle of whiskey -- as well as two glasses -- from a low drawer.

"Look, Jeff," she said. "If this is still about the time is of the essence clause in the contract -- and I think it is, based on what I'm hearing you say -- I think I can work that out. I can have one of our memo monkey on the office floor just knock it out and I can review it. They do this all the time."

She paused again and now rolled her eyes, as whoever was on the other end of the line went on a diatribe. She uncorked the whiskey bottle and poured a finger in both glasses, then clinked them together.

Crispin raised the glass to his lips and took a tentative sip.

"Again, Jeff," she said to the attorney -- Crispin was pretty sure it was an attorney now -- on the other end of the line. "We can get this squared away. Look, give me a call on Monday and I'll assign it to one of the office floor grunts. I'm looking at one of them right now."

She gave Crispin a savage wink.

"Beautiful," she said, a few seconds later. "Yes. Absolutely. Hit me up on Monday and we'll make it happen. You have a good weekend."

She sipped her own whiskey, stayed on the line for another 30 seconds, and hung up.

"Good fucking lord," she said, draining the rest of her drink and pouring another finger into the glass. "Some men, Crispin. Some fucking men."

He offered a weak smile. "Yeah, I bet."

"Anyway," she said, and tossed a strand of obsidian-black hair over the shoulder of her blouse. "How are you? What brings you up here on a Friday afternoon before a long weekend?"

Crispin swallowed hard. He'd thought about this conversation, of course. But he'd never been sure how much Aspen might have known or been privy to about his promotion, and, thus, his need to ask her for a spanking.

Ask her for a spanking.

This was Aspen Beira. In law school, they'd only passed the Evidence final because they'd taken it together. He'd met up with her for so many coffee-drenched study sessions, gotten food with her so many times, listened to her talk about sex and dating and nothing at all for so long he felt like he knew her better than anyone in the building now.

And yet, here they were. Aspen with twice the salary and all of the power and Crispin needing to beg her to take him over her knee and spank him so that he could make as much money as she did.

He took a deep breath.

"Well," he said, and he couldn't look at those gorgeous green eyes of hers just now. He dropped his gaze to the dark hardwood of the desk between them. "I...I'm up for a promotion."

He only looked up after a few second of silence.

"Really?" Aspen asked, and swirled the whiskey in her glass.

Crispin nodded. "Yeah."

"That's fantastic, Crispin, congratulations," she said. "I'm proud of you. Lady Cailleach said it was a pretty sure thing?"

She had to know, Crispin would think, looking back. She had to know. Crispin had thought her as a safe person to ask, but she had to know the whole time he was going to end up the punchline to this particular joke.

And maybe that was the cruelest part of her betrayal. She just wanted to hear him say it. Just to rub it in.

"Yeah, she said it was a pretty sure thing," Crispin said, and again he wiped his sweaty hands on his slacks. "I just have to...I have to do something or...or ask for something."

Aspen cocked her head, raised her eyebrows. "Ask for something?"

"Yeah," Crispin said, and studied the amber depths of the whiskey in his glass. "I...um...you might have heard about it, I guess. Did Lady Cailleach email you?"

Aspen furrowed her brow, shook her head.

"No," she said. "I don't think so."

Crispin breathed deep, held it, let out a sigh.

He could have just handed her the promotion slip at that point. It mentioned the spanking, and some of its requirements. But Lady Cailleach had made it clear that wouldn't be enough.

He had to really ask. He just thought Aspen would have known.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard again.

"OK Aspen," he said, face growing hot as he realized this was really happening. "I...in order to get promoted, I need to...ask...a manager to...to spank me."

Aspen leaned forward and the corners of her mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile.

"Sorry, what?" She asked.

She had to have heard the first time, he thought. Had to have heard.

"Lady Cailleach said I have to ask one of the managers for a spanking," Crispin repeated, and now he couldn't look at her perfect face anymore, not those high cheekbones or full lips or those piercing, cutting green eyes. "And I...I was just wondering if...you could."

He'd always had a thing for Aspen. They'd always been partners in crime together.

And now here he was, begging her to humiliate him so he could reach the same level as her.

Aspen covered her mouth with one hand, to hide the grin Crispin could tell was already there. Her red nails shimmered in the dying afternoon light.

"If I could spank you?" She asked, and took her hand from her mouth, but the ghost of the smile was still there. "Fuck, Crispin, I didn't think Lady Cailleach was going to do that to you. She mentioned you were up for promotion and shit, but I didn't think she'd pull out the whole company policy and everything. That's mean."

"Yeah, well," Crispin said, and shrugged, his eyes on his shoes. "She did."

He could not look at Aspen's hands just now. The gleaming red nails. The wedding ring reminding him this was going to be a funny story she'd tell her man later tonight.

She cleared her throat.

"I mean, you know my style as a manager is that I don't like to spank," Aspen said. "I don't like to discipline the office floor grunts in general. I think I've only spanked once or twice. And I don't think I've ever whipped."

Crispin nodded. "Yeah. Everyone says you're the nicest manager we have."

Now he did look at her, and she smiled at this. "That's good to hear. Catch more flies with honey and all that. So why did you want me to be the one?"

"I just thought...I mean...since we're friends..." Crispin thought, and swallowed. "I thought it might be easier."

Aspen shrugged, seemed to consider this an interesting point. Crispin took another swallow of the whiskey.

"All right," Aspen said after a moment's silence. "If Lady Cailleach is really going to make you do this, and if I'm the person you want to do this, then I will."

"I mean, I don't want anyone to do it," Crispin said and forced a grin.

"No," Aspen said, and her eyes glittered in the fiery afternoon light. "I imagine you don't."

She sighed and set her glass down.

"But tell me about this spanking," she said. "Or would you prefer I use the whip?"

Crispin blinked. "Lady Cailleach said that was up to you to decide. Or...or whoever I asked, I mean."

"And you picked me because you thought I wouldn't use a whip," she said with a savage wink. "I see you Crispin."

He swallowed hard and wished he could claw the blush from his cheeks. "It just has to be humiliating, Lady Cailleach said. And painful. And recorded, so she can see it and make sure it was...enough."

"And beyond that?" Aspen asked.

"Up to you," Crispin said.

"That's just like Cailleach," Aspen said. "She gives her managers a lot of creative control. Let's..."

She paused, eyes narrowed in thought, her fingertips brushing her red lips as she considered something.

"Let's have you stand up," she said, "and put your elbows on my desk. I don't like to spank as a first resort, but the few times I've done it I usually just have the office floor grunt in question bend over and take care of it that way. I've never had any issues."

Crispin's mouth had gone dry. Looking back he could see this for what it was: she wanted to make him state in excruciating detail every embarrassing requirement, ask for every tiny humiliation along the way.

"That won't work," he said, and took a breath.

"Why not?"

"I have to...um..." he paused and again broke eye contact. "It has to be across your lap."

"Oh," Aspen said, and giggled. "I...I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you I promise I just...that *is* mean. Let me see..."

Again the regarded him with narrowed eyes and he felt her gaze travel across him and the room. Then she nodded to herself, stood, and punched a few commands into the computer keyboard before her.

"Just wanted to make sure we were recording," she said. "OK. Stand up."

Crispin did, and she walked around the desk and moved the chair he'd been sitting in so that it faced the wall to their left, and was within view of the computer's camera. She took a seat in the chair and Crispin couldn't help but notice the way her skirt hiked up just a bit across her nylon-clan thighs, the way he could see the bottom half of the rose tattoo she had on her left high thigh and hip. He'd spent three miserable years in law school looking anywhere but at those thighs when they'd studied together. And now...

She patted her thigh, but didn't say anything, the ghost of a teasing smile still on her lips.

He sighed and moved toward the chair, then bent over her lap, enveloped in the airy, floral perfume she'd taken to wearing since she'd gotten the management job.

It was strange to think that even after they'd spent so much time together, this was probably the most they'd ever touched each other. And it very much put her on top. Aspen's latent competitive spark must have enjoyed that.

She put a hand on his ass and he flinched; she felt the movement against her legs.

She giggled.

"I wish I could say I'd warn you when I'm going to start spanking you but I imagine Cailleach wouldn't like that," she said. "And I'm sure you only want to have to do this once."

"Definitely," he said, but was cut off by the impact of her hand against his ass.

He jumped. It was a harder smack than he'd expected, but he didn't have time to process it much because she landed another one on the other side of his backside a split second later and then went back to where she started. Crispin's slacks offered only scant protection, and even now he could only imagine how this was going to feel when she took his pants down.

Because that was something else Lady Cailleach had required, of course.

Crispin wasn't sure how long that first round of spanking went -- 30 seconds, a minute maybe? -- but it ended with Aspen putting a hand between his shoulder blades and patting him on the back.

"How's that feel?" She asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

For someone who didn't like to spank, she seemed to be enjoying this.

"I can definitely feel it," he said, upward and over his left shoulder.

She snickered. "I'm glad to hear it. Do you think that was enough?"

"Enough?" Crispin asked, and sighed.

If only it had been.

"No I..."

"Cailleach probably asked for more, didn't she," Aspen said smiling. "Yeah, she did."

"She did," Crispin said.

"All right, well," Aspen said, and tugged at his belt. "Looks like these need to come down then."

She didn't sound disappointed about it.

Crispin stood and fumbled for his belt buckle with shaking hands.

Only then did he realize the door to her office was still open and anyone (Chaya next door?) could have heard this or seen what was going on, had they had occasion to stop by.

It was, at least, the Friday before a long weekend, as Aspen had pointed out.

He undid it and let his pants slip down to his ankles before he stepped out of them.

He kept his eyes on the floor as Aspen looked him over in his underwear.

"Hmmm," she said. "Not much of a bulge there, huh? I always wondered."

She giggled and Crispin didn't know what to say.

"I'm just joking, Crispin, just joking," she said, and took his wrist to pull him back over her knee again.

She was enjoying this too much.

Again he went over her knee, the nylon smooth and teasing against his abdomen and the tops of his thighs now. This time, though, Aspen took her right leg and locked it behind his knees, trapping him between her thighs.

Soccer player, Crispin thought. Aspen had actually been a soccer star in undergrad; all the work she'd put into her legs never really left.

She also hadn't neglected her arms, if this next round of spanking was any indication. He hadn't thought his pants offered much protection at all, but this was different. His boxers were thin, light, and he could feel the sting now. Once or twice he even picked out the metal scream of her wedding ring, a sharp, cruel reminder that he'd never have her and this was just going to be something she told her husband later tonight. Not only was he not her choice, he was a joke to her, something to be trampled in her role as a powerful attorney at Marzanna.

"Fuck," Crispin whispered after an especially hard hit to his ass, and strained subconsciously, tried to wiggle out of her grasp. He came up against the coiled iron of her leg and he knew then he couldn't have gotten away if he'd really tried.

She paused again, rubbed his back.

"How are you doing?" She asked, her voice mock-saccharine. "Feeling humiliated yet?"

"Yes," Crispin said. It was true.

"Good," she said with a soft pat on his ass, now starting to burn. "That's what we need to make Lady Cailleach happy. Let's keep that up."

She yanked down his underwear and Crispin yelped when she felt the cool of her bare palm on his ass.

"Hmmm," she said, pressing and probing various parts of his ass. "Yes. It looks like it's starting to redden a bit."

Crispin heard footsteps in the hallway, stifled laughter he didn't recognize, but when he looked up no one was there. He swallowed hard. Aspen didn't seem to notice.