The Training
Page 29
I stood and walked to the bookshelves so I could put away the book I’d been pretending to read.
“What do you think, Apollo?” I asked. “Should I find something to do or give up?”
Apollo cocked his head to the side, gave a soft grumble, and rolled to his back. I took the hint. Belly rub it was.
My phone beeped with an incoming text.
“Sorry, Apollo,” I said, moving to the table beside the couch to get my phone. “It’s probably Felicia.”
But it wasn’t Felicia. It was Nathaniel. My heart pounded when I read the message.
My office. Now.
I stared at the message for entirely too long.
His office?
His office, where?
I went to the desk in the library first. Nothing. He wasn’t even in the library. He had an office across from the dining room he used when he worked at home.
I ran as quickly as the black, strappy shoes would let me, expecting to find the door shut. Instead, it stood open. I peeked inside, but again, the room was empty.
He didn’t mean his office office, did he? The one in the city?
There was nothing else he could mean, though.
I grabbed my purse and keys to his second car, rubbed Apollo on the head, and went to the garage. A note waited on the seat.
Yes, Ms. King,
I meant my office in the city. The weekend security guard will let you inside the building.
Sincerely,
Mr. West
P.S. You’re late.
So much meaning in such a short note, I decided as I drove to his office. For one, I would be allowed to call him “Mr. West,” and for another, I was apparently late. The thought thrilled and titillated me.
I pulled into the parking garage across the street from his office and realized I would have to walk in public in the outfit he’ d picked out for me. I felt an odd combination of pride and excitement.
I scurried across the street to the tall building that housed his company.
“Yes, ma’am,” the weekend guard said when I made it to the front door.
I knew the weekday guard, spoke to him frequently anytime I visited Nathaniel at his office. This guy, though, wasn’t the older gentleman I recognized. This guy was young and unfamiliar.
“Ms. King to see Mr. West,” I said, tugging at my skirt. I wondered if he saw the garters when I walked inside and then mentally chastised myself. Does it matter?
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Mr. West is expecting you. Said to send you right up.” He looked only at my eyes. His gaze didn’t drop to my outfit at all. “I need to see your identification.”
“What?” I asked. “Oh, right.” The weekend guy wouldn’t know me like the weekday guy would. I pulled my wallet out and flashed him my driver’s license.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and then waved me through to the elevators.
Nathaniel’s office was on the top floor, and though I’d been inside his office multiple times, this time was different. This wasn’t a normal meet-you-for-lunch or it’s-time-for-our-yoga-class meeting.
Sara wasn’t at her normal place, of course, with it being a Sunday. The large wooden door of Nathaniel’s office was closed, and I stopped for a moment, unsure how to continue.
He would have heard the elevator ping when it arrived on the floor, wouldn’t he? Should I knock or text him? Maybe he’d open the door for me?
But he’d had me drive all the way to his office. Surely he wasn’t going to open the door for me.
I knocked.
His voice was low and commanding when he answered.
“Enter.”
I pushed the door open with a hesitant hand. He sat at his desk, thumbing through papers. At my entrance, he looked over the tops of them and scowled at me.
“Come in, Ms. King, and close the door.”
The door closed behind me with a loud click.
“You’re late,” he said.
I’d decided exactly which angle I was going to play on the way over, so I flipped my hair behind my shoulder and tilted my head.
I like you feisty, he’d said two weeks ago.
He liked feisty? I’d be feisty.
“I wasn’t sure what time you wanted me, Mr. West,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t my summons say now?”
“Maybe. I really don’t remember.”
“That’s an ongoing problem of yours, isn’t it?” he asked. “Forgetfulness?”
I shrugged.
He set the papers down. “I’ve heard you are quite forgetful lately. That you’ve been otherwise occupied when you should be working.”
“I have a lot on my mind,” I said. “But I get my work done.”
He scanned the papers in front of him. “According to this, you make personal phone calls on company time.”
“One or two.”
“One or two an hour, perhaps,” he said. “Are you calling a man?”
I shifted my weight. “I call my boyfriend sometimes.”
He looked at me from head to toe and then motioned to my outfit. “Does your boyfriend know you dress this way?”
“Oh, no, Mr. West.” I played along, trying to pull the hem of my skirt down. “My boyfriend doesn’t see me like this. I wore this at the request of my master.”
I thought maybe my admission would trip him up or that he would at least show some sort of acknowledgment. Instead he nodded. “Ah, I see,” he said. “You’re a kinky girl.”
I thought about the previous weekend and smiled. “Very.”
“I bet you like dressing this way,” he said. “Like showing your body off for your master.”
“Yes,” I said, running my hands over my h*ps and jutting my chest out just a tad.
“And I bet you like showing it off to other men as well, don’t you, Ms. King?” He pushed his chair back. “Like the security guard downstairs?”
“He was okay.” I ran my hands up my body, skirting the swell of my br**sts. “But I was really more interested in what you thought, Mr. West.”
He stood up and walked to me, his eyes never leaving mine. “Is this the attitude your supervisor has to deal with?” he asked. “This inappropriate flirting?”
I gave him my best smile. “You never answered my question. What do you think of my outfit?”
He moved to stand behind me, and his hands came around my body to cup my br**sts. “The jacket is too tight.” He pulled at the fabric and the buttons scattered to the floor. His voice was low and deep as his hands slid to my hips. “And the skirt is too short,” he whispered in my ear.
“Perhaps you would like them better off?” I asked, pushing back into his groin and smiling at the feel of his erection.
“Ms. King,” he said, as if in shock. “You do realize the gravity of your actions? I could fire you for your impertinence.” Those were his words, but his hands didn’t move from my body.
I spun to face him and batted my eyelashes. “But, Mr. West, I need this position.”
“I have no choice,” he said, and took a step backward. “I have to let you go. I can’t have this disrespectful, outlandish behavior distracting my other employees.”
I walked slowly toward him, slipping the tattered remnants of my outfit to the ground, stepping out of it. “Surely there’s something I can do.”
“I don’t know. It’s a very serious situation.”
“There has to be something.”
His gaze traveled up and down the length of my body. “There may be one thing.”
“I’ll do it,” I said. It was odd how the role-play bolstered my confidence, how it affected even the way I walked. My h*ps swayed as I approached him. I ran a finger down his chest. “Please.”
He turned and walked to his desk, slowly removing his belt as he went. When he stood to the side of his desk, he faced me, flexing the leather in his hands. “I don’t know if you’re up for this.”
Holy f**k. Is he going to spank me with his belt?
“I assure you I am, Mr. West.”
“Come here.”
I walked to his desk.
“Hold out your hands,” he said.
He took them and looped the belt around them, binding my wrists together. I didn’t struggle as he pushed me forward, and I rested my forearms on the desktop with my ass facing him.
Making sure I saw every move he made, he walked behind his desk and opened a drawer. I sucked in a breath when he withdrew a wooden paddle and placed it on the desk.
He has a paddle in his office?
In the span of a few shaky breaths, he’d moved behind me. His fingers nipped the skin of my thighs as he undid my garters. He roughly rubbed my ass through the scratchy lace of my panties before slipping his fingers under the waistband and slipping them over and down my hips, exposing me to him.
“You’ve been a very naughty employee, Ms. King,” he said. “I’m going to have to punish you.”
I wiggled my ass. “Whatever you think best, Mr. West.”
His hand came down on my backside with a satisfying smack. “I’m going to make sure you understand the consequences of your actions.” While he spoke, he continued spanking me. “You need to understand exactly what I expect from my employees. What is allowable. If you forget, I’ll be obligated to remind you again.”
He tsked as he slid a long finger between my legs. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a deterrent for you?”
My ass felt warm and sensitive from his spanking, and I bucked my h*ps trying to get his finger deeper. “I don’t know, Mr. West. Maybe you should punish me more.”
He collected the paddle from the desk. “If you insist, Ms. King.”
“I’m afraid it’s the only way I’ll learn my lesson.”
The paddle smacked against the skin of my ass, and I moaned.
“Here are the rules you’ll obey if you continue working for me.” As he spoke, he brought the paddle down over and over.
“You will dress appropriately.”
Smack.
“No more garters and ill-fitting outfits that show off your body.”
Smack.
“No more personal phone calls to your boyfriend during office hours.”
Smack.
“No more flirting with male employees. Including me.”
Smack.
“No more forgetfulness.”
Smack.
“And when I tell you to come to my office immediately, you’re to come to my office immediately.”
Smack.
“Am I understood, Ms. King?”
Smack.
Before I could answer, his hands were on me, teasing and tickling my swollen flesh.
Fuck me. Fuck me. Now.
He landed a slap to my ass, but with his hand instead of the paddle. “I asked you a question, Ms. King.”
Right. Right. Right.
“Uh,” I pretended to stammer. “What was the question again?”
He spanked me harder. “Do you understand how you are to act when you are in my employ?”
I shifted my legs, desperate for friction. “Yes, Mr. West. I understand.”
He sighed. “I should fire you anyway. I’ve never had to do anything like this before.”
The office fell into silence. The only sounds audible were the steady tick, tick, tick of a clock on his desk and the faint hum of a mini refrigerator in the corner.
I slowly lifted myself from the table and looked behind me. He’d moved back a few steps, but was smiling.
“You’ll probably have me arrested,” he said.
I unbound my wrists and dropped the belt to the floor. “I’d never have you arrested.”
He shook his head. “Treating you like that.”
“I needed it.”
“No,” he said. “There’s no excuse for the way I acted.”
“What do you think, Apollo?” I asked. “Should I find something to do or give up?”
Apollo cocked his head to the side, gave a soft grumble, and rolled to his back. I took the hint. Belly rub it was.
My phone beeped with an incoming text.
“Sorry, Apollo,” I said, moving to the table beside the couch to get my phone. “It’s probably Felicia.”
But it wasn’t Felicia. It was Nathaniel. My heart pounded when I read the message.
My office. Now.
I stared at the message for entirely too long.
His office?
His office, where?
I went to the desk in the library first. Nothing. He wasn’t even in the library. He had an office across from the dining room he used when he worked at home.
I ran as quickly as the black, strappy shoes would let me, expecting to find the door shut. Instead, it stood open. I peeked inside, but again, the room was empty.
He didn’t mean his office office, did he? The one in the city?
There was nothing else he could mean, though.
I grabbed my purse and keys to his second car, rubbed Apollo on the head, and went to the garage. A note waited on the seat.
Yes, Ms. King,
I meant my office in the city. The weekend security guard will let you inside the building.
Sincerely,
Mr. West
P.S. You’re late.
So much meaning in such a short note, I decided as I drove to his office. For one, I would be allowed to call him “Mr. West,” and for another, I was apparently late. The thought thrilled and titillated me.
I pulled into the parking garage across the street from his office and realized I would have to walk in public in the outfit he’ d picked out for me. I felt an odd combination of pride and excitement.
I scurried across the street to the tall building that housed his company.
“Yes, ma’am,” the weekend guard said when I made it to the front door.
I knew the weekday guard, spoke to him frequently anytime I visited Nathaniel at his office. This guy, though, wasn’t the older gentleman I recognized. This guy was young and unfamiliar.
“Ms. King to see Mr. West,” I said, tugging at my skirt. I wondered if he saw the garters when I walked inside and then mentally chastised myself. Does it matter?
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Mr. West is expecting you. Said to send you right up.” He looked only at my eyes. His gaze didn’t drop to my outfit at all. “I need to see your identification.”
“What?” I asked. “Oh, right.” The weekend guy wouldn’t know me like the weekday guy would. I pulled my wallet out and flashed him my driver’s license.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and then waved me through to the elevators.
Nathaniel’s office was on the top floor, and though I’d been inside his office multiple times, this time was different. This wasn’t a normal meet-you-for-lunch or it’s-time-for-our-yoga-class meeting.
Sara wasn’t at her normal place, of course, with it being a Sunday. The large wooden door of Nathaniel’s office was closed, and I stopped for a moment, unsure how to continue.
He would have heard the elevator ping when it arrived on the floor, wouldn’t he? Should I knock or text him? Maybe he’d open the door for me?
But he’d had me drive all the way to his office. Surely he wasn’t going to open the door for me.
I knocked.
His voice was low and commanding when he answered.
“Enter.”
I pushed the door open with a hesitant hand. He sat at his desk, thumbing through papers. At my entrance, he looked over the tops of them and scowled at me.
“Come in, Ms. King, and close the door.”
The door closed behind me with a loud click.
“You’re late,” he said.
I’d decided exactly which angle I was going to play on the way over, so I flipped my hair behind my shoulder and tilted my head.
I like you feisty, he’d said two weeks ago.
He liked feisty? I’d be feisty.
“I wasn’t sure what time you wanted me, Mr. West,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t my summons say now?”
“Maybe. I really don’t remember.”
“That’s an ongoing problem of yours, isn’t it?” he asked. “Forgetfulness?”
I shrugged.
He set the papers down. “I’ve heard you are quite forgetful lately. That you’ve been otherwise occupied when you should be working.”
“I have a lot on my mind,” I said. “But I get my work done.”
He scanned the papers in front of him. “According to this, you make personal phone calls on company time.”
“One or two.”
“One or two an hour, perhaps,” he said. “Are you calling a man?”
I shifted my weight. “I call my boyfriend sometimes.”
He looked at me from head to toe and then motioned to my outfit. “Does your boyfriend know you dress this way?”
“Oh, no, Mr. West.” I played along, trying to pull the hem of my skirt down. “My boyfriend doesn’t see me like this. I wore this at the request of my master.”
I thought maybe my admission would trip him up or that he would at least show some sort of acknowledgment. Instead he nodded. “Ah, I see,” he said. “You’re a kinky girl.”
I thought about the previous weekend and smiled. “Very.”
“I bet you like dressing this way,” he said. “Like showing your body off for your master.”
“Yes,” I said, running my hands over my h*ps and jutting my chest out just a tad.
“And I bet you like showing it off to other men as well, don’t you, Ms. King?” He pushed his chair back. “Like the security guard downstairs?”
“He was okay.” I ran my hands up my body, skirting the swell of my br**sts. “But I was really more interested in what you thought, Mr. West.”
He stood up and walked to me, his eyes never leaving mine. “Is this the attitude your supervisor has to deal with?” he asked. “This inappropriate flirting?”
I gave him my best smile. “You never answered my question. What do you think of my outfit?”
He moved to stand behind me, and his hands came around my body to cup my br**sts. “The jacket is too tight.” He pulled at the fabric and the buttons scattered to the floor. His voice was low and deep as his hands slid to my hips. “And the skirt is too short,” he whispered in my ear.
“Perhaps you would like them better off?” I asked, pushing back into his groin and smiling at the feel of his erection.
“Ms. King,” he said, as if in shock. “You do realize the gravity of your actions? I could fire you for your impertinence.” Those were his words, but his hands didn’t move from my body.
I spun to face him and batted my eyelashes. “But, Mr. West, I need this position.”
“I have no choice,” he said, and took a step backward. “I have to let you go. I can’t have this disrespectful, outlandish behavior distracting my other employees.”
I walked slowly toward him, slipping the tattered remnants of my outfit to the ground, stepping out of it. “Surely there’s something I can do.”
“I don’t know. It’s a very serious situation.”
“There has to be something.”
His gaze traveled up and down the length of my body. “There may be one thing.”
“I’ll do it,” I said. It was odd how the role-play bolstered my confidence, how it affected even the way I walked. My h*ps swayed as I approached him. I ran a finger down his chest. “Please.”
He turned and walked to his desk, slowly removing his belt as he went. When he stood to the side of his desk, he faced me, flexing the leather in his hands. “I don’t know if you’re up for this.”
Holy f**k. Is he going to spank me with his belt?
“I assure you I am, Mr. West.”
“Come here.”
I walked to his desk.
“Hold out your hands,” he said.
He took them and looped the belt around them, binding my wrists together. I didn’t struggle as he pushed me forward, and I rested my forearms on the desktop with my ass facing him.
Making sure I saw every move he made, he walked behind his desk and opened a drawer. I sucked in a breath when he withdrew a wooden paddle and placed it on the desk.
He has a paddle in his office?
In the span of a few shaky breaths, he’d moved behind me. His fingers nipped the skin of my thighs as he undid my garters. He roughly rubbed my ass through the scratchy lace of my panties before slipping his fingers under the waistband and slipping them over and down my hips, exposing me to him.
“You’ve been a very naughty employee, Ms. King,” he said. “I’m going to have to punish you.”
I wiggled my ass. “Whatever you think best, Mr. West.”
His hand came down on my backside with a satisfying smack. “I’m going to make sure you understand the consequences of your actions.” While he spoke, he continued spanking me. “You need to understand exactly what I expect from my employees. What is allowable. If you forget, I’ll be obligated to remind you again.”
He tsked as he slid a long finger between my legs. “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a deterrent for you?”
My ass felt warm and sensitive from his spanking, and I bucked my h*ps trying to get his finger deeper. “I don’t know, Mr. West. Maybe you should punish me more.”
He collected the paddle from the desk. “If you insist, Ms. King.”
“I’m afraid it’s the only way I’ll learn my lesson.”
The paddle smacked against the skin of my ass, and I moaned.
“Here are the rules you’ll obey if you continue working for me.” As he spoke, he brought the paddle down over and over.
“You will dress appropriately.”
Smack.
“No more garters and ill-fitting outfits that show off your body.”
Smack.
“No more personal phone calls to your boyfriend during office hours.”
Smack.
“No more flirting with male employees. Including me.”
Smack.
“No more forgetfulness.”
Smack.
“And when I tell you to come to my office immediately, you’re to come to my office immediately.”
Smack.
“Am I understood, Ms. King?”
Smack.
Before I could answer, his hands were on me, teasing and tickling my swollen flesh.
Fuck me. Fuck me. Now.
He landed a slap to my ass, but with his hand instead of the paddle. “I asked you a question, Ms. King.”
Right. Right. Right.
“Uh,” I pretended to stammer. “What was the question again?”
He spanked me harder. “Do you understand how you are to act when you are in my employ?”
I shifted my legs, desperate for friction. “Yes, Mr. West. I understand.”
He sighed. “I should fire you anyway. I’ve never had to do anything like this before.”
The office fell into silence. The only sounds audible were the steady tick, tick, tick of a clock on his desk and the faint hum of a mini refrigerator in the corner.
I slowly lifted myself from the table and looked behind me. He’d moved back a few steps, but was smiling.
“You’ll probably have me arrested,” he said.
I unbound my wrists and dropped the belt to the floor. “I’d never have you arrested.”
He shook his head. “Treating you like that.”
“I needed it.”
“No,” he said. “There’s no excuse for the way I acted.”
