Spanking At Work: Manager Punishes Bad Secretary Hard
This is a fictional story that is only allowed to be read from the age of 18
Table of Contents
Strict Boss Confronts His Naughty Secretary
Daniel Hartman had expected a quiet morning. But the moment he opened the quarterly report folder, his expression darkened. Loose pages, poorly printed charts, a wrong sum in the very first paragraph. On page three: a coffee stain warping the edge of the paper.
His jaw tightened. He pressed the intercom button.
“Miss Carter, in my office. Now.”
Emily Carter had only been his secretary for three months. Young, ambitious, but sometimes far too careless.
A few seconds later she stepped in, crisp white blouse slightly open at the top, a tight black pencil skirt, sheer black tights underneath. Her heels clicked softly on the hardwood floor as she approached with a smile that didn’t quite hide her unease.
“Yes, Mr. Hartman?”
He slid the folder toward her. “Look at this. Wrong numbers. Formatting mistakes. And this…” He tapped the stain. “Is this coffee?”
Her eyes dropped, teeth catching her lower lip. “I… dropped my mug. I was going to—”
“No excuses.” His voice was cool, cutting. “I’ve told you exactly what kind of standards we keep here.”
Her smile had vanished. “I’m sorry.”
He rose, walking slowly around the desk. His gaze traveled from her bowed head to her narrow shoulders, then to her legs pressed tightly together. “I think ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t going to be enough today.”
Boss Pulls Sexy Woman Across His Lap Without Warning
Her head snapped up. “What… do you mean?”
He had already turned the visitor’s chair to face him and sat down. “Come here.” His voice left no room for doubt.
Hesitantly, she stepped forward. Two steps, then she stopped. He reached for her wrist and pulled her in. Gently, but with unyielding authority. Before she could form a protest, his other hand was at her waist.
A firm tug and she lost her balance. With a startled gasp, her upper body landed across his thighs.
“Mr. Hartman! This isn’t—”
“This is exactly what you need to focus your mind.”
He positioned her so her hips rested perfectly over his lap. Her head dipped toward the carpet, hands bracing against it. The black pencil skirt stretched taut over her bottom, creasing upward.
She pushed against the floor, trying to rise, but his broad hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades. “Stay still, Miss Carter.”
Her pulse hammered in her ears. The faint scent of his aftershave mixed with the cool air in the office. His legs felt solid beneath her, his grip steady and inescapable.
Underwear Comes Down and Smacking Begins
With measured calm, he took hold of the hem of her skirt and pushed it up over her hips. The fabric rustled as it bunched at her waist. Beneath it, her black tights gleamed faintly, and under those a pair of thin, dark panties, small enough to leave very little to the imagination.
“Please, Mr. Hartman…”
“Too late.” His fingers found the waistband of her tights, tugging them down to the tops of her thighs. The nylon slid over her skin, leaving a faint electric tingle in its wake.
Her panties were now fully exposed. He hooked a thumb into their waistband and pulled them slowly downward, over the swell of her bottom, past the curve of soft flesh, until the fabric sat in a narrow band just above her knees.
Her bare bottom was suddenly in the cool office air, pale skin tightening instinctively. His palm rested there, feeling the warmth, the faint tension in her muscles.
Then he raised his hand and brought it down with a sharp Smack on her right cheek. The sound cracked through the office. She jolted.
“Ah!”
The next swat landed on the left, then another on the right. The untouched pale skin quickly bloomed into a soft pink.
He took his time, flattening his palm over her, feeling the heat spread before delivering another crisp spank. Each strike made her body jolt forward slightly as she clung to the chair leg with her fingertips.
Secretary Kicks and Squirms As His Hand Works Harder
“Mr. Hartman… please…” Her voice trembled. She tried to press her thighs together, but with her panties and tights bunched low she was forced to keep them parted.
He tightened his arm around her waist. “No wriggling away, Miss Carter. You’re taking this.”
The spanks came harder now. The crisp smack filled the room, each one followed by a sharp breath or a gasp from her. Her bottom tensed under his hand, the heat rising with every swat.
Her feet kicked involuntarily, heels tapping against the carpet. Every few strokes he paused to smooth his palm over her cheeks, now a deeper, rosier shade, only to lift it again and land another ringing slap.
“Each one of these,” he said calmly between the impacts, “is a reminder. No coffee. No errors.”
“Yes… ah… yes, Mr. Hartman!”
He held her steady, refusing to let her squirm free. Her breathing quickened, movements growing frantic. Sometimes she arched slightly upward, only to be pressed firmly back down by his guiding hand.
The heat under his palm was nearly scorching now. He delivered a rapid series – left, right, left, right – each one making her legs kick in the air. Then a few firm smacks across both cheeks at once, drawing a soft cry from her lips.
Red Bottom Earns Forgiveness In The Boss’s Office
At last he rested his hand on her glowing skin, taking in the sight. Her bottom was now a vivid red, deeper in the center with a warm, lighter blush around the edges. He traced his palm over it slowly, feeling the tension and the heat.
“That’s enough for today.” His voice had softened, though still steady.
He drew her panties back up, smoothing them into place, then pulled her tights up over them. The skirt followed, tugged neatly back down over her hips.
Helping her to her feet, he watched her straighten slowly, her hands instinctively resting behind her to shield the tender spot.
Her cheeks were as flushed as the skin he had just been spanking. Her eyes stayed low.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mr. Hartman.” Her voice was small but sure.
He nodded, satisfied. “Good. Next week, I expect perfection.”
She picked up the folder from his desk, turning toward the door. With each step, the lingering heat under her skirt reminded her exactly what had happened and that, in spite of the strictness, she might be thinking about it far more than she should.
