found the idea of “punishing” her very exciting.
Well. She had news for him.
I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.
A shame, really, that it came out sounding like the words of an eighteenth-century schoolmarm. Plus he just came back with something even worse, as though he wanted her to know exactly how eighteenth century and schoolmarm- ish she looked, saying stuff like that.
I mean—stop thinking about me spanking you, for worrying too much.
She thought two things, then. One was— but I’ve never thought about anything like that , while her body went hot and cold all over, at the same time. The other was— I bet he’s just as nervous as me, typing words like those .
And somehow it was the latter, that really pushed her over the edge from “weird hot and cold feeling” to actually, possibly, really aroused. She pictured him biting the edge of one nail, tapping his free hand on the keyboard, waiting . Waiting for her to reply with something angry or mean, threatening sexual harassment suits or similar—anything but what she found herself replying.
You wouldn’t.
Then she was the one biting the edge of her nail, tapping her keyboard and waiting.
Are you really so sure? Maybe you should test me, and find out.
This guy was unbelievable! It had to be Walsh, from sales, even if he was far too handsome to be making suggestive comments to her. She could just see that shark’s grin of his in her mind’s eye, and those big hands, itching to get at her…well, her ass. Not to mention those broad shoulders of his—God. He’d swing one hell of a hard smack. And if he said things like that while he did it—just that hint of wryness behind the words, she felt—she couldn’t imagine feeling anything other than arousal.
It was arousing. Why deny it? She’d never thought about being spanked, before, or having someone boss her around, but there was something about the flavour of his cheeky little messages, just trying their luck…and so out of the blue, too.
Who did things like that? No one. Crazy people. Crazy people who chose other, much more attractive and fascinating women to do said things with. People never chose her to do this sort of stuff—not even her actual boyfriends.
All right. Tell me something to do, and let’s see if I do it.
It seemed like an crazy thing to say. She realised after typing and sending it, that she’d given him carte blanche to respond with absolutely anything. Maybe he was a maniac, and would ask her to do something so gross, so vile and horrendous, she’d pass out just on seeing the words. Then he’d come and find her unconscious body, and put his penis in her ear hole.
She wasn’t sure why it was her ear hole. But who knew, really, what maniacs were into these days?
Like knickers, for example. Or more to the point, a lack of knickers.
Tomorrow, come to work without any underwear on. You can wear trousers if you like, but I think a better effect would be achieved if you wore a skirt.
There could be no denying it. He almost definitely was a maniac.
* * * *
If he honestly thought she was going to do something like that, he was crazy. There was just no way. She wasn’t that sort of girl, and even if she had been, all of her skirts were just too damned flippy . The slightest breeze sent them skywards, and what then? The entire world would get to see her bottom, or her front bottom, or the fact that she’d awkwardly waxed the hair down there so it looked kind of like a question mark.
As with all things, she hadn’t really intended to do it. Just like now, when she really didn’t intend to go without knickers and yet somehow ended up doing it anyway.
But she felt she stuck one in his eye, by picking out a really long skirt. The longest she had, in fact, with little pleats all around the hem and barely anything flippy about it at all. He could go on saying vaguely thrilling and absolutely cool, calm and
Well. She had news for him.
I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.
A shame, really, that it came out sounding like the words of an eighteenth-century schoolmarm. Plus he just came back with something even worse, as though he wanted her to know exactly how eighteenth century and schoolmarm- ish she looked, saying stuff like that.
I mean—stop thinking about me spanking you, for worrying too much.
She thought two things, then. One was— but I’ve never thought about anything like that , while her body went hot and cold all over, at the same time. The other was— I bet he’s just as nervous as me, typing words like those .
And somehow it was the latter, that really pushed her over the edge from “weird hot and cold feeling” to actually, possibly, really aroused. She pictured him biting the edge of one nail, tapping his free hand on the keyboard, waiting . Waiting for her to reply with something angry or mean, threatening sexual harassment suits or similar—anything but what she found herself replying.
You wouldn’t.
Then she was the one biting the edge of her nail, tapping her keyboard and waiting.
Are you really so sure? Maybe you should test me, and find out.
This guy was unbelievable! It had to be Walsh, from sales, even if he was far too handsome to be making suggestive comments to her. She could just see that shark’s grin of his in her mind’s eye, and those big hands, itching to get at her…well, her ass. Not to mention those broad shoulders of his—God. He’d swing one hell of a hard smack. And if he said things like that while he did it—just that hint of wryness behind the words, she felt—she couldn’t imagine feeling anything other than arousal.
It was arousing. Why deny it? She’d never thought about being spanked, before, or having someone boss her around, but there was something about the flavour of his cheeky little messages, just trying their luck…and so out of the blue, too.
Who did things like that? No one. Crazy people. Crazy people who chose other, much more attractive and fascinating women to do said things with. People never chose her to do this sort of stuff—not even her actual boyfriends.
All right. Tell me something to do, and let’s see if I do it.
It seemed like an crazy thing to say. She realised after typing and sending it, that she’d given him carte blanche to respond with absolutely anything. Maybe he was a maniac, and would ask her to do something so gross, so vile and horrendous, she’d pass out just on seeing the words. Then he’d come and find her unconscious body, and put his penis in her ear hole.
She wasn’t sure why it was her ear hole. But who knew, really, what maniacs were into these days?
Like knickers, for example. Or more to the point, a lack of knickers.
Tomorrow, come to work without any underwear on. You can wear trousers if you like, but I think a better effect would be achieved if you wore a skirt.
There could be no denying it. He almost definitely was a maniac.
* * * *
If he honestly thought she was going to do something like that, he was crazy. There was just no way. She wasn’t that sort of girl, and even if she had been, all of her skirts were just too damned flippy . The slightest breeze sent them skywards, and what then? The entire world would get to see her bottom, or her front bottom, or the fact that she’d awkwardly waxed the hair down there so it looked kind of like a question mark.
As with all things, she hadn’t really intended to do it. Just like now, when she really didn’t intend to go without knickers and yet somehow ended up doing it anyway.
But she felt she stuck one in his eye, by picking out a really long skirt. The longest she had, in fact, with little pleats all around the hem and barely anything flippy about it at all. He could go on saying vaguely thrilling and absolutely cool, calm and
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