The Corner Office (closed)

She glanced at the clock and sighed softly. She really couldn't put this off any longer.

In spite of the thought, she rose from her desk and walked quickly to the ladies' room, closing the door and turning on the water. She leaned against the sink and looked at herself in the mirror.

Not a hair out of place - she had taken to pulling her unruly curls straight back off her face, up into a high ponytail. It looked a little severe from the front, she knew, but she considered her curls unprofessional, and felt they made her look younger than her 21 years. Her hands trembled briefly as she twisted the elastic double and pulled her dark mane through again, and she scowled warningly at her reflection and mouthed silently, "Stop. Right now."

Her makeup was all right - she didn't know what to do with it, so she never wore much. She pulled a compact out of the pocket of her dress and powdered some of the shine from the tip of her nose. She took a step back and checked her dress, smoothing it over her stomach, turning to see that it wasn't riding up in the back. Her palms felt slightly moist against her skirt, but not bad. The water roared in the sink. There was nothing else to do. She smiled politely, attentively at herself in the mirror - then cringed. Enough. She washed her hands, turned the water off and, taking a deep breath, opened the door.

In another minute, she was pecking at his office door with his coffee (black, two sugars) in one hand and his telephone messages (wife, client, charity fundraiser) in the other. His door had been closed since he got back from lunch, but he barked his muffled assent and she turned the handle noiselessly.

Don't look at him. Don't spill it. She had her wimpy little smile on and kept her eyes downcast as she crossed the threshold. A waft of cigarette smoke tickled her nose in spite of the cool air and the noise from the street. He shouldn't be doing that in here, but she wasn't going to be the one to say so. She ventured a glance to gauge the distance to his desk - five more steps. He was leaning back in his chair, watching her. He looked mildly annoyed. Her coffee hand began trembling, she had learned not to fill it to the brim. Just not on the carpet. She hurried to his desk and set it down. Then with a vague mumur, his messages, his wife on top. Smile. Don't look at him.

He sat up and his hand was on her wrist suddenly, just above her watch. For a split second, she forgot herself and jerked back, but made herself stop. She looked up at him, not smiling, feeling the blood drain from her face.

"Lisa," he said quietly. Her heart was pounding. "Your name is Lisa."

She tried to approximate her polite smile, felt it twitch and falter on her lips. Her cheeks were growing warm, she knew where this was headed. She nodded.

"I've been calling you Kim for three days," he continued, frowning, searching her face. She tried again to smile, to show him it was all right, but he was shaking his head. "Why didn't you say something?"

She had to say something now. Her face was hot, and completely exposed. She thought absently that she would have to reevaulate her hairstyle, if she was going to work here. She shrugged, feeling the tug of his hand at the end of her arm, and opened her mouth, smiling, and stammered, "I - I didn't want...to -" Embarrass you, she couldn't say. She tried again, "It - doesn't, it didn't matter - it's okay.."

He was looking at her like he was trying to decide which planet she was from. Her cheeks were blood-hot, even the tips of her ears tingled. At last he let her go, and she straightened up as he smiled at her. "Okay. Lisa."

She kept her smile plastered on as she turned to make her exit, recalling the feel of his hand, firm around her wrist when she tried to pull away. She wanted to remember it later, when she went home. She had her hand on the doorknob when his voice startled her.

"Lisa? There's just one more thing."

She swallowed and turned slowly, her heart racing in her chest. Her smile felt all right, but she didn't trust her voice. She nodded instead, inquisitive eyes, and waited.

Derek Munson sat back in his chair, eyes half closed, cigarette smoldering between his fingers. His black hair was combed and styled deliberately, clean shaven, and with ice blue eyes. He was waiting for coffee, and messages, but the girl, Lisa, was taking her sweet time. He wasn't upset, the girl was still relatively new, but she carried herself like she was always scared. It was an odd trait, one that both intrigued and somewhat nauseated him. When she knocked he called for her to come in.

She wore a plaid skirt, her hair pulled back into a pony tail, white button down blouse, hell, she was a work place catholic school girl. After she delivered his coffee and messages he caught her wrist and voiced a minor issue. She'd allowed him to go three full days calling her by the wrong name. When he brought it up, she blushed and stammered a little, and he cocked one eyebrow at her.

"Lisa? There's just one more thing."

She turned and smiled again, nervous, but attentive.

"If I call you the wrong name, or someone else, tell me earlier please. Early on it's no big deal, but I'm pretty sure everyone thinks I'm daft for calling you Kim. Also you're doing a good job, keep it up."

He smiled and waved his hand, shooing her out of the room, then began sifting through the messages and sipping coffee. His wife was first, naturally. He picked up the phone and started dialing.

She nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. Of course she should have told him, she saw that now - how silly, not to. She hadn't meant to make him look bad. If it had been any of the other executives, she knew she would have made a point of speaking up, right away - but him...she'd wanted to change her name to Kim, so that he wouldn't be wrong. She wondered suddenly if he knew it, too.

Something in her chest fluttered at his faint praise. She'd been trying very hard to impress him, and now she flushed again out of pleasure. Lisa hesitated a moment too long before finally blurting, "Thank you, sir. I - I'm trying."

She lingered in the doorway, waiting for more, but he waved her off, dismissively. He was reading his messages, and she took the opportunity to look at him while he was preoccupied. She liked looking at him - that's why she knew she shouldn't look at him. When he picked up his phone, she let herself out of his office quietly. She didn't want to hear him talking to his wife.

Her desk was in the hall, directly across from his office, and she sat looking at his closed door for several minutes before she could collect herself enough to get back to work. She took out the sheaf of notes he had given her that morning and brought her computer out of idle mode. She was proud that she could already decipher his slanting, impatient handwriting - this is what he meant, she thought, this is partly what he meant. Her color was high as her fingers flew across the keys and she played his compliment over in her mind, and his smile as he shooed her away. She liked knowing that she pleased him.

She looked up at the screen and realised with dismay that she'd placed her fingers in the wrong position and typed nearly a page of pure gibberish. Frowning, she scrolled back to delete the text and start again. Get it together, she told herself. She wouldn't impress him for long if she couldn't stop with this foolishness.

Derek sighed heavily and hung up the phone. His wife would be out of town, again. He had no idea that the spark of romance, or even the desire to be around each other that much, would be fading so soon into marriage. Hell, it had only been six years. He took another swig of the coffee, closing his eyes so he could savor the sensation, then resumed making his calls.

Fortunately everything else went smoothly, the fundraiser was actually something he was looking forward too. Opportunities to network, to get his name and company out there, those were all good things as far as Derek was concerned. He also had some clerical work to do, though thankfully Lisa had no trouble transcribing his notes. He made a few more calls, arranging meetings mostly. He checked his watch and stood, stretching. He pulled the suit coat from the back of his chair and shrugged into it. Time to kiss a little ass, clients, always convinced they were the most important.

He left his office and stopped by Lisa's desk.

"I need the notes for my meeting. Oh, then I need three new copies of the presentation tomorrow. I know it wasn't scheduled, but I know you'll be able to handle it."

Derek's door opened and she glanced up, fleetingly. Gosh, he was handsome - he looked so good in a suit - but he had his coat on, she noted. He stopped at her desk and she smiled, but couldn't look up with him so close.

His notes! Lisa's mouth fell open as she looked back at her screen. She was only about two pages in, and there were at least three pages of his handwritten scribble left. She unclipped them from her typing stand and held them out to him, wincing slightly.

"I'm sorry - I didn't get them finished..." She counted the pages quickly with one finger and looked up at him anxiously. "If you can give me five - maybe seven minutes, I could - I could probably..." But could she? With him waiting with his coat on, standing over her? She bit her bottom lip and wondered angrily what she'd been wasting her time on all day, since he gave the notes to her that morning. He'd be wondering, too.

She waited, holding his papers out, the look on his face stabbing at her heart.

Presentation? She wasn't sure which presentation he meant, but she didn't dare say so. She'd figure it out. "Three copies for tomorrow, or three copies now?" she asked timidly, mousing with her free hand, opening folders, trying to find it, keeping her eyes glued to the screen.

Derek lowered his eyebrows just a little bit at her mention of needing more time. He quickly checked his watch, then glanced again at his own handwriting. He could make it out easily enough, but seeing as others might need his notes or be looking at them, professionalism was the way to go. He could wait a few minutes while she finished up.

"I'll need them tomorrow, so it's not another rush job. I can wait a few minutes while you finish typing. You've been more prompt than this in the past, I hope there isn't anything interfering with your work?"

It took an effort not to smile. He knew she had a crush on him. Hell, she wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last. Plus at her age, in her position, he could still remember his first office crush. A powerful woman, and he'd been awestruck more by her power, position, and the way she carried herself than anything overtly physical. It would pass, they always did.

She shook her head in response to his question, opening the Word document again, not daring to look at him. She could feel her cheeks flushing again, hotter than before, with him so close. Stop. She tried to ignore him, standing there, as she took his notes back and clattered fiercely at the keys, stopping every few words to go back and correct a typo. She wasn't reading the words anymore, too caught up in getting the letters right, and the feel of his piercing gaze on her.

She wished she could think of something to say to reassure him - if he had his doubts about her this early, he might send her down the hall, swap her out with one of the other, more experienced assistants, or dismiss her altogether. She couldn't think of anything reassuring, and she couldn't keep from blushing, but she could show him that she would work hard for him.

Six minutes had passed when she reached the end of his notes, and she ran a quick spell-check on the document and sent it to print. Lisa was glad to leave her desk and fairly scurried out from under his gaze, around the corner to the printer to retrieve the pages. She came back looking a little more composed, smiling, pleased with herself that she could deliver what she'd promised. Her cheeks were still streaked with red as she handed him the printed sheets.

"Good luck at your meeting, sir."

Derek pulled out his phone as he waited for Lisa to finish up with his notes. He made a few digital notes and sent a couple of text messages before checking a few engagements that were coming up. When he was done Lisa was hurrying from behind her desk to the printer and presenting him with his notes. He took them from her and quickly glanced through them before nodding at her good wishes before heading off.

He moved to the elevator and used it to climb a few levels, then went into the conference room for the meeting. He sat in his chair, next to the other representative from his division and began leafing through his notes with a little more eye to detail. His partner was looking over his notes with him, and it was him who spotted something a little odd.

"Hey Derek, are you sure this was what you meant?"

He looked at the line in question and was stunned. There it was, the word cock staring back at him. Derek rapidly leafed through the rest of the pages, and there were more of the same. Interspersed with his notes, seemingly random words had been replaced with sexually suggestive ones. Cock, pussy, pounded, sex, and more were there randomly.

"It might be what I meant, you're the married one who hasn't had any in what, eight months? Probably just the new girl not thinking, you've seen my handwriting, she must not be used to it."

It was a passable excuse, but this was certainly not the way he wanted things to go. Derek took a highlighter and moved through his notes, marking the errors so he could point them out later. Fortunately he wasn't going to have to share his notes, they were just for his reference and his partners. Thankfully they should be OK for this meeting, but his mind started turning, this could have been much worse.

Some of the shine seemed to go out of everything, when he left. Lisa sat back at her desk and busied herself for the remainder of the afternoon - she found the presentation Derek needed and printed three high-quality color copies and stacked them on the corner of her desk to take to him in the morning. She'd spent the last half hour reviewing his scheduled appointments for the rest of the week and familiarizing herself with some of his most important clients, but now it was late in the day, and it didn't look like he would be back. She was disappointed that she wouldn't see him again before she went home.

A strange squeaking sound caught her attention, and she heard doors opening and closing down the hall. She looked up, and the source of the noise came gradually into view: a cleaning lady lugged a large garbage bin with a squeaky wheel, and a blue bag for recycling from office to office. As Lisa watched, she tried Derek's door and, finding it locked, produced a jingling set of dozens of keys. Lisa bit her lip, heart thumping, as the woman turned the key in the doorknob and pushed her way in. With a furtive glance down the hall, she followed behind the woman into Derek's office, trying to appear nonchalant.

The woman looked up as Lisa crossed the threshold. "This is Mr. Munson's office - "

Lisa smiled back at her with a cheery confidence she did not feel. "Yes, of course it is. I'm his new assistant - Derek's personal assistant." It wasn't exactly her job title, but this woman wouldn't know that.

"He just called to ask me to get a file from his desk for him. I'll just be a minute, and I'll lock up again when I'm finished."

The cleaning lady seemed to accept that answer, and moved on to what she considered a more important issue - she held up the ashtray she found on Derek's desk and clucked her disapproval. "This is a fire hazard..."

Lisa nodded in agreement and rolled her eyes. "Oh, I know. I've told him." She held the door as the woman made her way out, and closed it quietly behind her.

Just for a minute. He could come back at any time. She stood just inside the door, hesitant, then crossed the five steps to his desk and sidled around it, sinking into his chair. His desk was very tidy, absent of many personal effects. She picked up a steel-barreled pen she had seen him use and clicked it absently, then put it down again. A holder for his business cards was positioned next to his telephone, and she helped herself to one of them, running her finger across the raised print of his name. She tried the top drawer - locked. She didn't try any of the rest.

She swiveled back and forth in a wide arc in his chair, nervous, but reluctant to leave. Swinging 180 degrees, she paused to examine a framed diploma on the wall behind his desk. The calligraphy was so elaborate that she could hardly make out his name. She wrinkled her nose at the date: she was barely out of junior high school the year he'd finished his degree. She looked out the windows at the people getting into their cars to get an early start on rush hour traffic. She swung in the chair and almost missed the wedding picture on the cabinet in the corner.

Lisa grabbed the edge of the desk with both hands to stop, and hopped down, walking to the cabinet to look at it. The frame was a bit dusty - the cleaning lady didn't do dusting. She took it down and went back to his chair, propping it up on the desk in front of her.

He was younger by maybe five years, much closer to her age now. Slimmer too, in his dark tux, and with slightly longer hair. He was laughing at the camera, exuberant, squeezing his new bride in an embrace from behind. Lisa looked at his wife and felt a pang like heartache. She was indisputably lovely - tall and willowy in a trailing beaded gown, laughing too with her hands on his. They made a beautiful couple.

Lisa held her thumb over his wife's face and tried to only see Derek, but that long figure in the form-fitting white dress with her fingers curled possessively over his kept catching her eye. She took his business card out of her pocket and pushed it into the edge of the frame, so that it mostly covered his wife. He was so handsome in a suit, and so handsome, when he smiled.

After several minutes, she registered that the phone was ringing. Swallowing guiltily, she reached for his telephone first, but it was silent. She could see that another internal extension was ringing - the call blinked impatiently next to a paper label on which "KIM" had been written, and then crossed out. In the tiny space above, "LISA" had been printed in cramped letters.

She tried to pick it up, but couldn't connect from his line. She set his chair spinning in her haste to get to the door - don't forget the lights, don't forget to lock it - and hurried back to her desk. It stopped mid-ring, but she picked up anyway, breathless, only to get a dial tone. Replacing the receiver, she watched to see if the voice mail indicator would light up, and was startled by the chime indicating a new message in her Inbox.

From: Derek Munson
Sent: 4:58 pm
Subject: Need you

Her heart stopped. She fumbled to double-click it open.

to stay behind. Be there in 10 mins.

Of course, of course he didn't mean that, she chided herself, remembering to breathe, and then wondered what he needed her to work late on. Something else for the presentation tomorrow? A new project? Then it hit her: she'd be staying late, alone in the office with Derek...

Lisa jumped up and ran to the ladies room. On impulse, she pulled her hair out of the ponytail and touseled her curls so that they fell down her back and over her shoulders. After several seconds of internal deliberation, she watched as her reflection unfastened the top button of her blouse. Well, it is after hours. Smoothing her skirt, she opened the door and returned to her desk to listen for the elevator.

Derek was definitely feeling the urge to hit something. After the meeting he'd been pulled aside by one of his superiors, the presentation tomorrow would need to be revamped. After having to try and explain the odd words in his notes, this was really the last thing he needed to deal with. It would have been so much easier if this stuff had come out after his presentation, but no, it had to be before.

He typed a quick message to Lisa on his phone, deliberately not mentioning her errors. He needed her to be focused and on task right now, but he would certainly bring it up. He had an odd image of her bent over his desk, him swinging a belt at her raised ass for punishment. Definitely a thought. It had been a while since he'd had any real fun like that.

As Derek got into the elevator, he closed his eyes, loosening his tie and sighed softly. Another long night, still, the office was as good a place as home since his wife would be gone. The doors opened and he saw Lisa standing there. Her hair was down, it actually had a nice curl to it when it wasn't pulled back into a pony tail.

"Get the stuff for the presentation tomorrow and bring it into my office. We've got to make alterations."

He pushed into his office and sat at his desk, pulling up what he had on his computer and began reworking elements of it, his eyes not leaving the screen, though he did hear when Lisa came in.

She ran to meet him at the elevator, quite sure that she looked like an eager puppy, trotting to meet its master. She met him with a breathless smile that slipped a notch when she saw his face, the way he looked at her as the doors opened. Something - something was wrong.

His tone was brusque, his instructions cool and clipped as he brushed past her, and Lisa hurried to follow him to his office, stopping at her desk to retrieve the presentation. Was he only annoyed about having to work late?

Something made her nervous, made her knock to announce her presence as she stepped inside the door. Derek didn't look up, and Lisa watched him, bent over his computer, working. She knew that she should offer her assistance, but was afraid of fouling his mood any further. She took another step into the room and had almost drummed up enough courage to ask him if he needed some help, when she saw the picture frame.

Oh shit - oh God -

Derek's wedding picture was where she'd left it in her rush to answer the phone: in the middle of his tidy desk, with one of his business cards still jammed into the frame, covering his wife's half of the photo. By some miracle, he hadn't noticed it, yet - he was far too focused on making the changes to his presentation - but it was only a matter of time before he saw it. Judging by the dust, she guessed that it hadn't been moved in months, maybe years. Could she blame it on the cleaning lady? Lisa felt her cheeks tingling with warmth at the mere thought of trying to lie to his face.

Stop looking at it! Her gaze flitted guiltily away. Her only hope was that he would stay busy, and would never notice it - or that she might get it and put it back without drawing attention - could she? She decided that she had to try.

Lisa took a step closer to his desk and, after another moment's hesitation, unfastened the next button on her blouse. If it will distract him at all... She walked briskly around his desk and leaned in next to his chair to see what changes he had made.

"I have the printed copies, but I guess they're no good to you, now. Tell me what you need me to do."

Derek was rapidly typing on his keyboard, doing what he could to alter the master copy of the presentation, new information and new data. He almost wasn't aware of Lisa until she leaned over his shoulder with the hard copies. As he glanced over he couldn't help but notice she'd undone a couple of buttons on her shirt, and he actually had a decent view of her cleavage. Not bad.

As he took the papers and reached for a pen he finally noticed the picture sitting on his desk. It was his wedding picture, but a business card had become lodged over his wife. How the hell did that happen? He didn't even keep the picture on his desk.

"Lisa, how did this wind up here?"

He had found a pen and was rapidly crossing out information on the sheets, replacing it with notes and figures. Derek was going to make a brief outline of what he wanted done for Lisa to then create. While he was making changes to his copy on the computer the quick revisions would let Lisa get a head start on the formatting before he'd plugged all the new information in.

Lisa swallowed hard at his question - leaning in so close, over his shoulder, could he hear it? She drew back, stood up straight and tried to remember how she'd decided to answer.

"I -" put it there, she stammered, "I - " like looking at you. She reached clumsily for the photograph and knocked it over with her shaking fingers. She didn't try again. "I can put it back for you, sir. I - don't know how it got there."

Her face was burning with the lie, but she continued, "I saw the cleaning lady let herself in here, earlier. Maybe - maybe she moved it, for some reason?"

Shut up now, she told herself fiercely. He might decide to ask the cleaning lady about it, and she'd tell him she hadn't touched the picture - but that his new assistant had followed her into his office, as if she'd had every right to be here - had closed the door and spent some time in here alone. She'd tell him her side - the truth - without blushing or stumbling. Would he bother to ask her? If he turned to look at Lisa now, her face would tell him everything he needed to know.

She took another step back and bowed her head slightly, letting her ringlets fall across her hot cheeks, and tried to pay attention to the notes he was making.

Derek made a point not to stop working as Lisa spoke. Then he sat back in his chair and spun it to face her. Her head was bowed, her curly hair obscuring her face, but he could see the red peeking through her locks. He set the pen down on his desk and looked her over. She was certainly attractive.

"There's no need to lie to me Lisa. It only complicates things. The reality is you have a crush on me. There's no shame in it. What does cause problems is stuff like this."

He pulled his notes from the meeting out and placed them on the desk.

"Words like 'pussy', 'cock', and 'pounded' finding their way into my notes and materials can cause problems."

His fingers pressed together and he rested his chin on them as he looked at Lisa standing there.

"Now you do good work normally, but I think we can both agree this type of thing doesn't work well. I think there should be some punishment for this, and given the nature of all of this I think it would be best kept between us. Do you disagree?"

His blue eyes were locked on her as she stood there, waiting patiently for a reply from her.

She'd been expecting him to ignore her - she almost preferred to be ignored by him - certainly a hundred times more than the way she felt as he turned in his chair to look directly at her. She felt trapped at once, cornered in the narrow space between his desk and the wall as he stared at her. The open buttons on her blouse seemed suddenly a very foolish, vain thing to do, and only made her feel more exposed to his scrutiny.

Lisa felt herself go white, felt herself go weak and looked at the floor as he accused her (rightly) of lying - and when he called her out so unconcernedly, so matter-of-factly on her crush on him, she just wanted to run. She couldn't stay here, she couldn't stay here now... She brought her hands up to cover her face and moaned softly. She was causing problems for him.

She heard the riffle of paper, and then - he was saying dirty words, and she didn't know why. Her heart pounded as she took her hands away and stared at him, trying to make sense of it as he gestured at the papers on his desk. Lisa stepped warily around him to look, and a highlighted word, "fuck" jumped off the page at her. Shaking her head, bewildered, she scanned further down the page to the next: "pussy" - oh my God - finally taking up the pages to look through them. Every word he'd said, and others, much worse - words she'd never spoken in her life - were there, in neon letters so that she wouldn't miss them.

Her voice was full of tears as she protested, "I - I didn't -" but they were her notes, undeniably - the ones she'd typed for him just a few hours ago. They both knew he hadn't written this. She wanted to die, she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, but she only stood pinned in place by his gaze as he spoke quietly of punishment. Lisa looked up at him cautiously - she was expecting to be fired on the spot - and nodded when he suggested keeping the matter between the two of them, feeling her face flush again as she imagined the boss, the HR department, and her co-workers hearing about this. But -

"What - what punishment, sir?" she asked meekly.

Derek watched as Lisa first denied her mistake, then her cheeks reddened as she reviewed the notes and saw what had happened. Had there been any hint of dishonestly Derek would have changed his approach and fired her on the spot. It was bad having this happen as an accident, but anyone who did it deliberately, well, things wouldn't go well for them. When he suggested they handle things just between the two of them she glanced up from under her curly locks and her eyes met his.

"I think one stroke of my belt for each instance of replaced words should be sufficient, don't you?"

Without waiting for more than the barest motion of her head he stood and pushed his chair further back from the desk. One hand reached out and tipped her chin.

"Don't hide behind your hair from me Lisa. Honest mistakes happen, you accept the consequences and move on. Now bend over the desk. I counted twenty of your little freudian slips, so twenty strokes and we'll both be able to move on."

His left hand tapped the surface of his desk with fingers while his right moved to his belt and began undoing it.

Lisa blinked at him in confusion. His belt? She didn't understand. She wasn't sure she wanted to understand.

She opened her mouth, but hesitated before she could ask the question, and in that moment he was out of his chair, on his feet in front of her. She flinched away, eyelids fluttering, genuinely afraid of him. He wanted to punish her. It occurred to her that for all her flustered feelings for him, she really didn't know him at all - what kind of man he was, what excited him, what he might be capable of.

He took her face in his hand and made her look at him, and Lisa remembered again the feeling of his fingers tightening around her wrist when she tried to pull away from him - how she'd wanted to remember it. She pushed her chin up, tossing her dark ringlets out of her face, still trying to please him.

Don't hide. Accept the consequences. Bend over the desk. His tone was so resolute, so confident of being obeyed. She winced at his choice of words: her Freudian slips. Oh yes, he knew that all those dirty words had come out of her head, he knew how she wanted him. The color in her cheeks flared up again. And now he was going to punish her, bent over the desk. Twenty strokes with his belt, one for each word - twenty. She was afraid of how hard he might want to beat her.

He was waiting. He loosened his belt as she watched - and there was something so overtly sexual in the gesture, in the whisper of leather passing through the loops at the waist of his pants, that she shuddered hard, helplessly, half-expecting him to take his cock out. He didn't.

She stepped around the corner of his desk. She could run. It was five steps to the door. She could walk away now - run - and she was sure, quite sure that he would let her go. It wasn't right, he shouldn't hit her with his belt over a few - well, twenty - horribly inappropriate typos. It was not a just punishment...only, something inside her believed that it was...and wanted it, even if he made her scream. She could run, he wouldn't chase her - but then she could not come back.

Her panties were wet, and had been for some time. Her body felt slightly numb, still in shock, disbelieving as she leaned over the edge of his desk until her elbows rested on its surface. His wedding picture lay flat on the desk under her nose. She kept her chin up as he'd directed, and looked across at him, wild eyed with anticipation. On this side, he would have more room to swing.

Derek watched as Lisa moved around the desk. Her eyes stayed on his, just as he'd told her. Good, she was attentive and quick to obey. It was in those eyes that she kept on him that he saw her fear. It was stamped plainly in their depths, as well as the wild anticipation. She was excited, scared, and all of this was running very close to the surface for her. He was patient until she'd assumed the position he wanted, then he moved around.

"Good. I understand you might cry out, for this time I'll forgive you if it happens. Sound is cathartic as well as the pain, and we are certainly alone here."

His hands reached down and gripped the hem of her skit and pulled it up, up, the fabric trailing over Lisa's legs until her pantie clad ass was presented to him. She was wearing a catholic school girl type skirt that ended just above her knees, and he tucked the hem back into the waistband to keep it out of his way. Derek's right foot moved between her feet and wiggled them until they were the correct distance apart. He couldn't help but notice the wetness that was creeping along her panties. Interesting.

The first blow came without warning. He'd double the belt and brought it sideways towards her, and it met her raised backside with an audible crack. Derek found the sound to his liking, as well as the redness that started to spread. He watched it for a moment, then decided he didn't like the way it was going.

"I don't think that fabric is helpful."

He reached up between Lisa's legs and hooked two fingers through the crotch of her panties and tugged them down until they were stretched out and wouldn't go any lower.

"That last one wont count, I think you need to be bear assed for this to be effective."

With that he drew back and swung as hard has he could with the belt.

Good.

How she thrilled at his careless approval, how she lapped it up like cream. She resisted the urge to turn her head and look over her shoulder at him. He was telling her that she might cry out, and how he would forgive it - this time... This time? She didn't like him talking about her pain - pain was so personal, so intimate - how could he know what would make her scream, and what would bring her release?

Her thoughts dried up abruptly as his hands pulled her skirt up over her ass. For just a second she'd forgotten that he was talking about beating her with his belt - that he was going to do it, that she was bent over his desk so he could do it. It came back down on her like a load of bricks, crushing the breath out of her as she felt him briskly tucking her skirt up around her waist. She'd been so diligently mindful of the length of her skirt, so painstakingly careful not to ever, ever flash her panties in the office, and now - she could feel herself sweating as she tried frantically to remember what she'd put on, that morning. He was so sure - he didn't hesitate for a moment.

He nudged her ankles apart with one polished shoe, and that worried her, too - couldn't he beat her ass with her knees pressed together? What if he missed? She could feel the cool air teasing at the edges of her damp panties, and lowered her head between her arms, pressing her lips to the desk - then jerked up again at once. This would be a bad time to -

His belt came fast and hard, and without a sound. She felt the hot, flat impact and heard the loud crack-slap of looped leather against her firm, cotton-covered ass and she leaned into the desk slightly, pressing her palms against the smooth surface, exhaling in a harsh whistle. Stunned, she felt the delayed sting and burn as the belt dropped away and her blood rushed to the skin's surface. She'd thought - she'd thought he would ask her - if she was ready.

She lifted her fingers and saw that she was leaving smeary, sweaty handprints. Behind her, he muttered something about fabric, and then she choked on a gasp to feel his fingers clawing between her thighs, felt her pussy twitch excitedly as she pressed herself wheezing into the desk. Would he - ? No. He jerked her panties down. She could feel how wet she was. With her panties stretched taut between her trembly knees, with her legs spread, he could see her pussy, if he wanted to. But he wouldn't touch it. He wanted her bare assed - for this, for the belt, for it to be effective. He wanted it to hurt. She couldn't stifle a low moan. On the desk in front of her, he was laughing up at her, upside down, dusty with his wife in his arms. Still, she was arching her back, lifting her ass up, offering it to him.

Was it the gesture, posed like a bitch in heat presenting to him, the sight of her bare ass and pussy that made him strike harder the second time? Or did it only feel that way - angry, hard enough to slam her into the desk and make her shriek piercingly and reach behind automatically with both hands to cover the searing, rising welt? Did it make such a difference, that there was nothing between his belt and her flesh to dampen the blow - or was it that, all spread and exposed and eager for him, he would rather beat her than fuck her? She was moaning, she couldn't stop, and she started to straighten up, still holding her ass. She didn't know if she could do this.

Derek wasn't surprised when Lisa's hands instantly moved towards her ass, or when her upper torso started to rise. It was a natural response after all, but he was prepared for it. His left hand reached up and caught the nape of her neck and pushed her back down, a little more roughly than he'd intended too. He moved the photo of him and his wife out of the way and pushed her face all the way to the desk. Her hands remained clutching her bare ass.

"Take your hands and reach across and hold the edge of the desk. We both know this isn't as bad as you're making it out to be. It is easily worth keeping your job to take this. Be a good girl, and maybe you'll get a reward after."

His eyes watched as her hands slowly released her cheeks and stretched across the surface of his desk to grip the opposite edge.

"There, not so hard is it?"

There was just the soft sound of fabric as he drew his arm back, then the unmistakable swish before the crack of his belt again across her ass, in the same spot and just as hard as before.

"Now that's two. Just be still and take the rest and we'll be able to move on. Or you can stand and whine and draw this out. The choice is entirely yours."

His hand up under her hair at the back of her neck made her gasp, and then make a noise she sometimes made when she was being penetrated, a breathy grunt: "Ahah -" as she struck the desk, as she turned her cheek and he held her face down and she felt his pant leg brush against the inside of her bare thigh. She was badly excited - oh God, God, would he - ? No. She wished he would just hold her down like this, beat her just like this - she could bear it, like this.

His disapproving reproach nettled her, and she squirmed slightly in uneasy protest - how could he say that it wasn't so bad - how could he know? But she found that she wanted to believe him; her ass only tingled now, warm in a tender stripe under her hands - she could hardly remember exactly how it had felt, or exactly the shape of her mouth on the sound she had made... She did want to be a good girl for him. Her pussy twitched again and her heart thumped against his desk, excited and afraid as she wondered how he might reward her. With her panties still down around her knees, how would he decide to reward her? She bit her bottom lip hard enough to feel her pulse.

It was difficult to let go, to bare herself to him, knowing that he would hit her again, but stiffly Lisa obeyed him, stretching out long across his desk. She had to lift up on her toes and reach to hook the tips of her damp fingers over the far edge, and her jaw clenched as he declared it "not so hard". In truth, it felt good to have something solid to hold onto, however tenuously - but how could he know that...unless - ?

He's done this before.

She started to shudder and then his hand was gone from her neck and his belt came down again, lashing precisely the same raw path across her ass and yes - now she remembered! She bleated a sob and her fingers slipped, then caught the edge again and held, white-knuckled, until the urge to reach behind her finally passed. One foot left the floor and she curled her leg up, tangled in her panties, hugging one calf and ankle to her bum against the sting. After a moment or two, she put her foot back down reluctantly and braced herself again.

Just be still and take it, he said - take the rest. She didn't like to think that it would be eighteen more like this. She turned her face into the sleeve of her blouse when he called it whining. Who else, before her? Some very good girl? Next time (!) she might not be permitted to cry out. She couldn't imagine trying to stifle even the smallest whimper... The shocking pain had begun to subside to a dull throb - it would awaken sharp and bright at the next lash, she knew - but she wouldn't die of this, he wouldn't hurt her badly, and it would pass. If she could remember that through the worst, and not panic, she might make it to twenty.

Derek watched as one leg curled up, pressing into her ass to protect and soothe the burn. As tempted as he was to yank it down, he waited. It was just a reflex action, and Lisa was still learning in many ways. His patience was rewarded when her leg lowered back to the ground and resumed the proper position. He smiled and reached out with his left hand, resting it on her lower back before slamming the belt into her upturned ass again.

This time he aimed lower, creating a stripe effect across her cheeks with the red and the natural paleness of her skin. Derek didn't want to wait anymore, he wanted to blister her backside. He kept meticulous count in his mind, but his hand moved faster, the belt cracking over her skin, revising the red stripes, keeping them fresh, and keeping the red and white stripes across her ass. With his last two blows he hit the white skin, just to make it pink and red across her ass instead of white and red.

"There, all done. Do you think you deserve a reward for being good?"

His hand, resting casually in the small of her back, was all she wanted in the whole world, and Lisa bit her lips savagely to keep from crying out something to that effect. Arching her back so he would feel the deep curve under his fingers and see her bare ass lift for him before he brought the belt across her cheeks again, mercilessly, making her scream.

If he would only leave it there - not even holding her down, but the threat of holding her down, of pushing her into his desk and pinning her there - just so that she could believe that he would, if he felt her try to rise again. If she could feel his hand, neither forcing her nor stroking her, soothing her - just resting relaxed against her, confident that she would not defy him again, she could do this. But he took it away again, and she felt the next several strokes come swift and vicious - always in the same places, it seemed, and she had no time to get used to it - the pain dazzling and bewildering. She was screaming again, afraid she wouldn't be able to stop.

She was counting, too - counting down from twenty, because it was more encouraging. This next one would be thirteen; she steeled herself for it, hearing the swish of his belt - she wouldn't - would not - scream, this time. She'd show him that she could be silent, if he required it of her. Next time.

The loop of the belt caught her just under the swell of her buttocks, where thighs turned into ass, where she was deliciously sensitive, and the scream ripped out of her throat before she could even think to stop it. Lisa could feel herself beginning to tremble, beginning to panic with the fear swelling in her - and still thirteen to go, and she couldn't get a hold on herself - every stroke was almost like the first one, a terrible startling slam of pain and his violence. Her hands were wet, slipping on the polished edge of his desk, and she held on desperately, digging her fingernails in, very afraid that if she let go, she would get up and run. She couldn't take thirteen more - she couldn't take one more!

She made herself breathe in a brief pause while he assessed his handiwork and decided where to strike next. She had to stop thinking this way, she had to find a way to think so that she could make it through to the end. He wasn't really hurting her, she reminded herself again - but it was little comfort as her ass burned and throbbed and itched in the thick stripes he'd inflicted - and he wasn't half finished, yet.

The next strike caught her off guard, and her eyes flew open wide as she yelped in surprise, her fingers slipping on the surface of his desk with a thin squeal. One hand brushed the corner of his wedding picture, and she remembered how she'd looked at it so longingly...she'd wanted to be something to him. He knew it. Even now, a blush streaked her cheeks as she remembered the dirty words she'd peppered through his notes like fragments of a filthy love letter - he knew what she wanted. His belt came down again on a spot he'd hit too often, the stiff edge cutting into her flesh, she was sure, the bite of it so deep and intense. Tears sprang to her eyes, but her voice was low on a howl, this time. She was thinking.

He knew. And this is what he was choosing to do about it. This wasn't just punishment - was it? She felt a tremor of uncertainty in her chest. He could have - any boss would have fired her, or written her up, or told her off. He wanted her to feel this. He had pulled her panties down because he wanted her to feel this, as hard as he was giving it to her. He wanted her to hurt for him. She would have given him anything, and he knew it; this was what he wanted from her.

Stop fighting it, then.

The next blow came and the thoughts flew from her mind as she felt the rush of panic that came with the pain, but she clenched her teeth on the ragged moan and struggled to rein it in, to feel the burn and her prickling skin all the way to the end. Take it. Feel it. This is what he wants you to feel. With her spread legs and wet pussy, she lifted her bare ass up to him again and again, and he replied with his belt. This is how he wants you.

She lost count. It didn't for one second stop hurting, and she couldn't stop moaning and wailing and being afraid - maybe next time - but it wasn't just chastisement, anymore - was it? He'd pulled her panties down. He knew she wanted him. It wasn't only her failure and her shame coming crashing down on her, again and again. Was it?

Her face was wet with tears when he announced that it was over, and her ass felt torn - she was sure she must be bleeding. Lisa lifted her hands from the desk and started to reach behind her, then stopped. Last time, he had...she twitched with the memory. She would risk it.

To her surprise, she found that he hadn't broken the skin. The welts were pronounced swollen stripes crisscrossing her cheeks, and the flesh was unbearably tender and scalding hot to the touch, but unbroken. Her fingers came back dry.

His question caused a sudden flurry, between her legs - her knees buckled and she fell into the desk again and almost came. She couldn't hold back a low, crooning moan. He was asking her, not telling her. Did she think she deserved a reward? She didn't even know what he meant by reward - but oh, she wanted...anything he wanted to give her... But that wasn't the question.

She knew she hadn't been especially good. She'd made a lot of noise - had screamed her head off, for a while - she could blush about it, now. But she hadn't tried to get away, or cursed him or tried to stop him. She'd wanted him to hold her down, but she hadn't made him do it - much. And she'd found a sort of peace or resignation, by the end...wasn't that something?

She wanted a reward. His hands on her again - God, please, please - anything he wanted to do. She wanted him to judge her and tell her whether she deserved to be rewarded, or not - but he'd asked her to tell him. Lisa writhed against the desk in her frustration, and tried not to accompany her answer with a whine.

"I - don't think I was - as - as good as I could have been, sir..."

She gasped for breath - was she denying herself? But he would know, much better than she did, how she should have behaved. "I tried - very hard - I didn't know what to do..."

She blinked back tears, she couldn't turn to look at him like this. "I - I could have done better, sir."

I will, the next time, she couldn't say. He might have already decided he wasn't interested in a 'next time'. She felt a cold fear settling in her stomach, she was afraid he would just send her home.

"I don't know what I deserve."

Derek reflected on the way Lisa had screamed. Not loud, not really loud at least, but she renewed her cries with every blow. Much as that pleased him a little, she was making a fair amount of unnecessary noise, he'd have to put a stop to that if this happened again. That thought brought a smile to his face. She was pretty, and it wasn't like his wife had been around to take care of his needs.

Then she started talking. She was stammering, unsure. She needed guidance. She was something of a natural though, she was still leaning over the desk, displaying her ass in all of its new red glory. He moved closer, letting her feel his presence as he leaned over her until he was speaking directly into her ear.

"I know you don't know. And now you know it too. You know you need me. To tell you things, to approve, or correct. You are very lucky, others would have dismissed you without proper correction. I am willing to aid you."

One hand snaked up and wound into her hair, tugging her head up as his thumb traced her lips with his other hand.

"As for a reward, you made a lot of noise. But you didn't squirm much, you held position. Those are good things. You listened. I bet you're wet, aren't you?"

The hand in her hair left and slid down her body, palm pressing into her back, down, over the tucked up skirt, over the heated skin of her ass, and then he held his hand just away from her sex. Just feeling the heat coming from her.

"Yes, you're quite aroused. I bet you want me to touch you there. Just one finger tip on your distended and needy clit would send you over the edge. But you did make all that unnecessary noise."

Fingers moved closer, just moving the air around her clit.

"If you'd moved at all I wouldn't give you any type of reward. Since you didn't move, you get one with a condition. You hold position, and you keep your mouth shut. If those lips come apart you'll need more correction, and I don't think you want that right now, do you?"

His index finger caressed her clit, once, twice, just enough.

There was silence after she gave her answer, and for a beat or two Lisa was sure she'd answered wrong, and that he would tell her to get up, pull her panties up, and get out. No reward for her.

Then she heard him moving behind her, and in another second, without warning, he was on top of her - leaning over the desk, the brush of his pant leg between her thighs, the press of his chest against her back, and his mouth next to her ear, kissing distance - and it was so close to sex - he could - he could just - She opened her mouth on a noise that was pure desire, and fought to keep from lifting her hips up, back, into him.

You know you need me. A hot growl in her ear. She pressed her damp palms hard against the desktop. You are very lucky... She started to nod, and felt his fist close in her curls, jerking her head up - ah God - it was so close to what she desperately wanted, things she'd never dared to fantasize, about him, that she whined even as he ran his thumb over her parted lips.

He was criticizing her performance; she could feel her insides twisting up - yes, yes - she needed him to tell her. And then: I bet you're wet, aren't you?

It was too much - she felt him relinquish his grip on her hair and she pushed her face into the desk again, pressing her lips into the polished wood to keep from making more noise as she felt his hand slide down her back. She would scream if he touched her - if his searching fingers trailing lightly over her bare ass touched her there - she wouldn't be able to help it.

She held her breath, but his hand stopped a fraction of an inch away. She whimpered against the desktop. If she snapped her hips she could make him do it. It was devastating to hear him comment so casually on her arousal, to guess what she wanted him to do. Lisa clawed her fingers into her hair and pressed her body harder against the desk - God, if he didn't touch her, if she didn't deserve this...

She could feel his fingers moving, so close - she wanted to beg him, but she didn't quite dare. If she squirmed now, his fingers might brush her clit, her needy clit, by accident. She struggled to hold very still.

He was telling her how it was going to go. Hold position, and keep her mouth shut. If she couldn't obey, he would correct her again. She could feel herself shuddering - she clapped one hand over her mouth, but knew it was cheating, and made herself lower her fingers to the desk again. She'd never had to be quiet before, her past boyfriends had liked her loud -

One finger reached and closed the distance and stroked her wet, swollen clit, and Lisa arched her back, thrusting her hips up, tossing her head back, keeping her lips tightly closed over a loud whine - this was Derek, nobody else, and she wanted him like nobody else - and he was really asking so little of her.

He touched her again - his firm, lingering touch - and she dissolved suddenly into violent wet spasms, lowering her head to the desk and lifting her ass up to keep contact with him as she came and came, and her wet mouth opened against the desk on her helpless grateful moans: "Huh...huh...aha...hah..."

And she felt a deep shame and humiliation with each throb of pleasure, knowing that she'd failed, failed, failed...and that he'd be disappointed, and he'd make her sorry. But these thoughts only prolonged her orgasm, and she was afraid he'd know that, too.