You were just supposed to be eye candy. You were no where near qualified for the job but the job sucks and I wanted something fun to look at.
I should have realized how much of a mouth you have on you in the interview but you had a flirty smile and I could see down your dress. Yeah, I knew you were just being flirty to get the job. I wasn’t trying to fuck you. I just thought it would be fun to have something to flirt with.
But holy fuck did I underestimate your attitude.
Within two weeks you were giving me lip every time I asked you to do something. Even the smallest little thing that I’d tell you to do, just to try to justify your salary, and you’d have something smart to say. By the time a month had passed I was regretting having hired you. But I couldn’t fire you so quickly without making myself look bad for hiring you in the first place. And you were still fun to look at, even if you did piss me off.
By the three month mark it was starting to have an impact on everyone else in the office. I had to get things under control or you were likely to sink the whole damn company single-handedly.
You rolled your eyes when I asked you to come into my office, and again when I told you to close the door behind you. The whole conversation was a shit show. You argued against every point I made. You made snarky remarks to every idea I gave that would help you keep your fucking job. You rolled your eyes so much I started wondering if you were reading off some smart ass script posted on the ceiling.
You were still your sarcastic, flirty self – like you thought you earned your paycheck just by wearing tight clothes and flirting with the boss. Like rules didn’t apply to you because you were attractive. Like you could smile and bat your eyes once in a while and the rules would just melt away. But every twist of your contemptuous lips, every smart retort, made my blood boil more.
I even moved from behind my desk and sat on the couch beside you, trying to get through to you. Nothing worked. Nothing I said could get through to you.
I made one final plea for you to just keep your damn mouth shut once in a while and do your fucking job. And you just laughed. You laughed. I couldn’t fucking believe it.
I snapped.
I grabbed your arm and jerked. Your ass came flying off the couch and you sprawled into my lap, taken completely by surprise. I pulled you down further so you were bent over my knee and held you down with a hand on your back.
“You need to know that life has consequences,” I snarled. “If you’re going to act like a petulant child then I’m going to treat you like one.”
I smacked your ass with a solid pop. You let out a little squeal but to my surprise you didn’t utter a single complaint. I smacked you again. And again.
You tried to push yourself up but you didn’t say a single word. I smacked you a few more times. I spanked you hard but you didn’t cry, didn’t ask me to stop. I wanted to break through your cocky veneer but you just quietly pushed against me struggling to get out of my grip.
It was infuriating. You wouldn’t break. I realized it was your cloths. There was too much padding between my hand and your ass. It wasn’t stinging the way it should. I pushed your dress up to your waist. You had the cutest little panties covering your perfect little ass but I tried not to notice that. I smacked your ass again, five or six times.
And the strangest thing happened. You didn’t yell or complain. You didn’t demand I stop or threaten to call HR. Instead, you settled. Your body relaxed in my lap. Like the spanking settled something inside you.
And it struck me. You were a brat. All that attitude. All that sarcasm and flaunting of the rules. It wasn’t that you were that contemptuous of me or the job. You literally couldn’t help yourself. You were just someone that needed a strong hand to keep you in place and once you started receiving the discipline you needed you relaxed into your natural position.
I smacked you a few more times but it still didn’t feel right. Even the padding of your thin panties was too much. I needed – you needed – the sting of pure skin on skin contact.
I pulled your panties down to your thighs and spanked your ass again. Finally I was getting the pure, clean pop of my hand on your ass.
At first I spanked you full on, aiming for the perfect amount of pain of the spanking you’d earned. I slapped your ass hard, making you squeal, turning your entire ass an angry shade of red.
But I started to really enjoy myself. I liked the feel of your skin on my hand. I liked the way your ass jiggled with each smack. I adjusted my aim, moving more sideways with a slight slant upward. Rather than coming straight down to inflict more pain, I came in from the side, slapping the underside of your ass. The movement was mesmerizing. I fell in love with the way your body moved with each slap of my hand.
Something shifted inside me as well. Slowly I changed, from wanting to just put you in your place to enjoying the show. I liked having the power of you and I found myself spanking you not just because you’d deserved it but because I was enjoying it.
I took my hand off your back, but your long ago stopped struggling. I grabbed your chin and turned your face up to look at me. Tears were streaming down your face but you were quiet – almost docile.
“Get on your knees on the couch,” I directed.
“Yes sir.”
Sir? You’d never called me Sir before. Not even in the interview had you shown so much respect.
Quietly, meekly, you climbed off my lap. You knelt on the couch beside me and rested your face on the back cushion. I stood behind you and started unbuckling my belt. I didn’t say a word. There was nothing to say. This was no longer anger or punishment. I just wanted to fuck you.
I positioned my dick against your pussy. Even from that little contact I could tell that you were nearly as wet as I was hard. I watched you bite down on the cushion as I shoved myself inside you.
I thrust into you hard. All that frustration, all that lust, culminating in savage, powerful thrusts. You took it like you were made for it. You even pushed back against me, matching my rhythm, meeting me half way.
I grabbed your hips – all red and warm from your spanking – and pulled you even harder into my thrusts. It wasn’t elegant or sensual. It was reckless and uncontrolled. I took your body just liked I’d taken all your shit for three months. And when I came I had to clamp my mouth shut to keep from groaning out loud enough for the whole office to hear me.
I took a step back, panting heavily and watching my cum drip from your pussy with satisfaction. Quietly you stood, pulled up your panties, and adjusted your dress. I lifted your chin with a couple fingers and made you look me in the eye. The tears had stopped but they’d left smears from your mascara all down your face.
“It doesn’t have to be this way.” I said. “Do you understand? You just need to do your job and cut back on the attitude a little.”
You gave me a little nod and whispered a meek, “Yes sir.”
“Can you do that? Can you do what I tell you without giving me so much lip?”
For an instant there was flash of that cocky, defiant light in your eyes. The corners of your lips twisted into a tiny, taunting smile. Your next two words told me all I needed to know about how the rest of our working relationship would go.
“We’ll see.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/vc14pv/eye_candy_spanking_bdsm_brat