Very Best

For about two years I was an account executive at a catering company. The boss, Jonathan, was tall and stern looking, and reputed to have a very fierce temper. All the other girls in the office told me stories of his yelling tirades and how he'd made many of them cry. So from when I first started there I was pretty terrified of him, which somehow translated into attraction. I was very careful to fix all of my mistakes before he saw them and always act very respectfully towards him, and as a result I had never seen him loose his temper. He was always very polite towards me and often told me what a good job I was doing. I continued to receive warnings at least once a week that "Jon's in a really bad mood today." from my coworkers, but I still never saw him get angry.

I worked the late shift, which meant I was completely alone for about two hours at the end of each night. It was easy to get into the habit of turning my music way up and smoking at my desk. For almost a year I continued this relaxing style of work with Jon never being anything but polite to me and I kept my mistakes to a low minimum. One spring evening I was spinning idly in my chair, the phone close by in case it rang, singing along loudly around the cigarette in my lips, and completely unaware that the back door had opened.

The song was just getting to my favorite part when I felt a large hand firmly grab my shoulder. I gasped, dropping the cigarette onto the floor, and reached for the volume knob. I barely managed to turn it down before the hand jerked me back to the chair. Beside me, I could see his shoe smearing the burning cigarette into the carpet, leaving a black smudge and a small burn.

"This is what I pay you for?" I knew it was Jon even before he had asked the question.

"Everything else is already done..." I offered lamely.

His rough order "Stand the fuck up." was accompanied by his hand grasping the top of my arm and lifting me. There was a large crash and I saw the chair spinning wildly across the room and into the hallway. "March." he said as he drove me forward until my face was against the far wall. Snatching a small notepad from a nearby desk, he held it on the wall in front of my face. With a hand in my hair,he pushed my head forward so my nose was pressed against it, holding it to the wall.

"Don't let that drop." he said. My terror doubled as I heard the distinctive sound of a belt being undone.

Keeping my face against the wall, he pulled my hands behind my back and cinched them together with his belt. I heard his footsteps retreating and cautiously tested my bonds. The knot was tight but loosening. I considered running, but I argued with myself that being caught trying to get away might make matters even worse, and besides, I couldn't deny that part of me actually wanted to stay. His footsteps soon returned and with a gruff "good girl" he took away the notepad I'd been keeping in place. I relaxed my neck and tried to take a small step away form the wall, but his hand on my back kept my toes against the baseboards.

"Now Sara," he said in a tone of barely controlled anger, "How do you think we can get you to remember to keep a professional attitude while you are here?"

Shaking my head, I gave a little shrug. "No suggestions?" he asked sarcastically and I cringed, but stayed quiet. "I think I know how..." he muttered roughly as he pressed himself against my back and bound hands, pushing me against the wall, and his hands grabbed roughly at my sides, digging painfully into my waist. I was only able to give out a small shuddering gasp. He pulled away and locked his hand around the back of my neck, then moved me to stand in front of a nearby desk.

"Are you ready?" he asked softly from behind me. I nodded dumbly, and before I knew what was happening he pushed my chest down onto the glass tabletop. He untied his belt and brought my arms across the desk, then tied my wrists to the top of the table-leg with the phone cord dangling there. It was tight enough for me to feel the plastic cutting into my skin, and the tiniest struggle hurt sharply. He gave a deep sigh as he slowly lifted up my skirt.

"Please..." I whimpered

"That's good," he replied, "beg me for it."

It was then that I realized the trouble I was really in. It would be eight o'clock in the morning before anybody else would be coming to this building. He had the place to himself for hours...

"Please," I foolishly repeated.

"Such a good girl..." he muttered.

I didn't know what else to do or say, so I focused my attention on him. He stood behind me, his large hands pressing into the curves of my body as he rubbed my waist and hips. He dropped to a knee behind me and lifted my skirt further up, running his hands over my ass and thighs, kneading the flesh and making me squirm. Sighing, he rose to his feet and moved to stand at my side. Over my shoulder, I could see him taking in the scene. His eyes moved from me to the office around us. He was taking a moment to enjoy the extra lubricity of defiling the place we both work, and so I did the same.

Without warning, he brought his hand swiftly down on my bottom, making me shriek and jump up on my toes. The phone cord cut into my wrists as I tried to jerk away. Burying his hand in my hair, he leaned close to my face and asked incredulously "You're not trying to pull away from me, are you?"

"No, Sir," I whispered.

His reply was to push my face down into the desk. Then he started really spanking me, hitting the same few spots over and over. I screamed, but it was long past closing time for most businesses so I knew no one would hear me. My haunches were taught with the strain of maintaining the position he forced me to hold and it made his hand hurt even more with each slap. Finally, the need to escape overwhelmed everything and I buckled my knees. I scooted sideways on the desk and pressed into his legs because it was the only direction in which I could move.

Roughly, he shoved me back into position with a guttural grunt, pushing my chest painfully into the unyielding desktop. Clasping the back of my neck with one hand he continued spanking me even harder than before. I tried to move away again, but my strength was long exerted and useless against the weight holding me down. His large hand covered a good part of my bottom with each strike, so by the time he stopped there was no area that wasn't on fire.

"I'm not finished with you..." he promised darkly as he reached across my prone body. I heard the terrifying clatter of his belt buckle and before could stop myself, I was begging him to please not punish me anymore, promising him that I'll never be bad again if he'll please just not spank me with his belt. I pleaded in a tear-choked voice, trying to appeal to his sense of mercy or empathy.

"Shut the fuck up." was his cold prelude to whipping me. The strap struck my already pink bottom and made me start howling immediately. He hit me at least a dozen times, each one a solid strike which shot all the way into my bones. My face was slick with tears pooling on the cold surface beneath me.

He struck me wildly with the belt, the leather biting into spots of skin everywhere on the backs of my legs and ass. I cried and pleaded, but when he hit the crease right behind my knee, I finally collapsed into hysterics. My heartbeat throbbed in my hands as I strained heedlessly against the phone cord binding them. I began begging anew, but he continued to relentlessly punish me. It wasn't until I went limp on the desk and started crying softly and rhythmically that he finally stopped beating me. He untied my hands and I slid to the floor. He hunkered down beside me, holding me to his chest. My fingers flared to painful life as the blood returned. He stroked my hair and ran his hands over my back and shoulders until my sobbing fit exhausted itself.

When I was finally collected, he asked softly "Have I helped you remember how to behave?"

I nodded and sniffled.

He prodded, "And what do we say...?"

I met his gaze with my shimmering reddened eyes and whispered, "Thank you, Sir."

He smiled at me and kissed my forehead. Holding me tightly to him one last brief time, he rose to his feet and began gathering his briefcase and keys. I sat there on the floor watching him, astonished at what had just happened and unsure of what I was supposed to do now. Before he left, he came back to where I still sat and kissed me once more on the cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Sara." He said.

I replied with a weak, "See ya..." Realizing it was far past closing time, I gathered my own things and made ready to leave, stopping in the bathroom to splash water on my face and examine myself in the mirror to see how badly I had been marked. The skin of my ass and thighs was entirely aglow with a soft pink hue. I could see a few darker areas that would soon become bruises. Dumbfounded, I locked up the office and let myself out.