Page 8 of The Boss' Pet

Marcus

Her eyes dance at me as she sips her drink, or what is left of it after she more or less downed it in a single nervous gulp. I get a sense of disobedient mischief about her yet again. What I said to her is true, and I think she knows as much. But she is resisting giving me the response that I want. Charlie is a tough little nut—one I would love to crack.

I want to make this woman tremble before me. At first I thought she was forward, bold, and cute. But the longer I spend in her presence, the more I realize she has an intellect and a spark that I don’t often encounter. I am surrounded by smart women, of course, but the ones I usually tolerate working for me have a proper sort of glaze over them.

They are wives, mothers. They are women who want to work hard and achieve great things. I provide them with ample opportunities for both. The younger women employed in my organization are kept at an appropriately professional distance. I do not screw the crew, as the saying goes.

But this young lady is not one of the crew. I’ve selected her because she is different. There is a pointedness to her curiosity, and something sharp about her wit. She tried to hide it at first, but there is an acerbic tang to so much of what she says. Even when her tone is neutral, I can practically taste the acid.

“If you were a math teacher, you might teach me something,” she smirks.

I think the alcohol is giving her more confidence and bravado than is really safe for her.

“I can teach you a lot of things,” I reply, reaching out to take her glass from her. “Moderation, for starters.”

Her pout is instant. Her eyes narrow at me.

“Excuse me,” she says. “I think I am capable of deciding how much to drink.”

She reaches for her glass, an act of impudent resistance that I have absolutely no interest in entertaining. It is easy to hold it out of her reach, but I shouldn’t have to. The sight of a young woman swinging her grasping fingers for a glass like a spoiled brat is all too much for me to tolerate. I place the glass down and catch her by the wrist.

It is a simple matter to haul her out of her chair, move my own seat back, and tip her shapely body right over my lap. This, she did not see coming. Outrage is in every line of her body as she twists in a hapless and helpless attempt to escape.

I hold her in place easily, and I let her fight herself out. The sensation of a woman’s soft curves wriggling against my body is very enjoyable. The slight irritation I felt at her attitude has melted as I regain the upper hand with little in the way of effort.

“What are you doing!?”

“I think you already know,” I purr, soothing her by rubbing her upper back. “You know why naughty girls find themselves in this position, don’t you?”

She makes a little squeak that functions as an admission that she very much does know why girls find themselves over the knee.

“When I give an order, I expect it to be followed. When I tell you that you have had enough to drink, that means you’re done drinking. It’s very simple, Charlie.”

“You’ve got no right to tell me what to do. You barely know me.”

I arch a brow as she starts arguing from this very unfortunate position. Usually the women I play with are more cooperative. Usually they beg to be in a position like this… or would be absolutely mortified to find themselves being punished.

I’m not used to women like Charlie. She comes from a simpler world. She wasn’t raised in the circles in which I have always moved, and it shows. She looks good in her dress, and she’s groomed neatly, but there are still so many rough edges to be smoothed.

I start by spanking her ass. It is presented tantalizingly in that tight skirt that has pulled very snugly over her hips. I like her curves. They are generous. Her thighs are nice and thick as well. There is a fullness to her figure that contrasts with my much harder, muscled body beautifully.

“Ow!” Her cry is plaintive and very real. “Mr. Waterstone! You’re hurting me!”

“Spankings hurt, Miss Crown,” I reply. “You might want to remember this next time you are tempted to open your mouth in response to something I tell you.”

“You cannot do this… You cannot…”

She whimpers those words as I continue to spank her. It truly is the most tame of punishments. It is chaste and rather innocent, which seems to fit her very well.

“What are you doing!?”

“Teaching you the lesson you so terribly need.”

I spank her ass again, very much enjoying the firm flesh and softer curve beneath my palm. There is something so very satisfying about spanking a girl who deserves it. I know I am doing her a favor right now. If I was to never see her again after this moment, it would be good for her to have experienced this.

Charlotte Crown has not been spanked enough.

“Ow! Stop! Stop it now! You’re not allowed to do this! You’re just a man. You’re nothing special. You’re just some guy! And you’re going to regret this!”

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