Secretary's Secret (M/F story)

There was a knock on the door, and I looked up from the papers I had been studying. In came Jenna, our newest secretary. "You asked for me, sir?"

 

Jenna was a short brunette with a friendly smile, and one of the cutest girls I'd ever met. She was one of the most popular girls in the building. Unfortunately, she was also one of the laziest. Jenna had only been working with us a couple of weeks, and when she was at her desk working, she worked at an impressive speed. But far too often, I had found her talking with the other secretaries, or just wandering around in the building.

 

"You know why you are here, Jenna."

 

She nodded; I had talked to her about her problems before. She had promised to improve.

 

"And you still waste far too much of your time."

 

Jenna looked at me, and I could almost see tears in her eyes. "Haven't I improved, sir?"

 

I admitted that she had, but that she still had a long way to go. "Therefore," I told her, "I have decided to let you go."

 

By now, I could actually see the tears in the corner of her eyes. "But please sir, I'll try harder, just-"

 

"I have said all there is to say, Jenna."

 

"But sir! Please give me another chance, just a few weeks, please, sir." Now the tears were running down her cheeks.

 

"I have given you several weeks already," I said, expecting the matter to be over.

 

"But please, sir, I'll do anything, but I can't lose my job now!"

 

I couldn't help myself; I felt sorry for the girl with the big brown eyes. She could tell I was considering the situation, so she sent me a warm smile. That settled it. There was no way I could fire her now. But something had to be done. I looked at her. With those big, wet eyes and the pigtails she always wore, she looked like a scared child. Maybe that's why the idea popped into my head. And the more I thought about it, the more I liked it.

 

"Your problem,” I told her, “Is that you can't concentrate on the task at hand long enough. You lack discipline. And if you can't provide it, maybe I should."

 

"What do you mean, sir?"

 

“I mean that there is one way for you to keep your job: I take you over my knee and spank you.”

 

There was an audible intake of breath, and Jenna looked down on the floor, unable to meet my gaze. Her cheeks were blushing furiously. “But sir, I -”

 

“That is the deal, Jenna. Either leave, or bend over my lap.”

 

To my surprise, Jenna didn't sit there thinking about it for long. She slowly rose to her feet and walked over to stand next to me. I wheeled the chair back, straightened my lap and guided her over it.

 

As I rubbed the short black skirt now lying over my lap, it occurred to me that this could lead to a sexual harassment suit. But sod it, I thought. She wanted me to find a solution, I found one, and she accepted.

 

I started smacking her bottom, wasting no time on warm-up or a slow start, just smacking away quite hard. I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. As, I suspect, did she.

 

At the start, Jenna just lay over my lap, not moving a muscle. Soon, however, the heat started to build up, and she started kicking her legs. I paused the spanking and told her to lie still.

 

“But it hurts,” she told me.

 

“I know, that's the point.”

 

I continued the spanking, and Jenna continued the kicking. But I decided that the thick skirt was providing too much protection, so I grabbed the hemline and started to raise it.

 

“Please, sir, you can't raise my skirt!”

 

“I can and I will. You agreed to this, now take it.”

 

I started to smack her black panties. As my hand met her rear, her cheeks wobbled up and down. Jenna cried out; it was clear it was much more painful without the skirt.

 

I spanked hard and fast, showering her bottom with spanks. Tears were running freely, and by now I had to hold tightly on to the girl to keep her from kicking off my lap. I kept on smacking, and the bottom in front of me turned from light pink, to darker pink, to red.

 

When I was satisfied that she had learned her lesson, I helped Jenna to her feet. To my surprise, she immediately closed her hands around me, leaning her head against my chest in a hug. We stood there for a while, she crying into my chest and I feebly rubbing her back to calm her down.

 

When she had calmed down enough, Jenna surprised me yet again by thanking me for the spanking. She rubbed her sore bottom through her thick skirt and told me that I had provided some discipline she had sorely lacked. She went back to work, and so did I. For some time, however, I found it difficult to focus.

 

During the next few days, Jenna's work ethic improved, but she still spent a lot of time wandering the halls. I wanted to call her into my office again, but I had promised her two weeks to shape up, and I would give her those. At the end of them, however, I would call her back into my office, and tell her she was fired. Or perhaps I wouldn't. Perhaps I would give her another dose of the old-fashioned medicine. The second option sounded more appealing.

 

Ten days after the incident, however, something happened. There had been talk about the firm being bought up by a rich businessman for some time, and this morning, we learned the rumours were true. Our manager gave the man a tour of his new property, when our new boss dropped the bombshell.

 

For about a month, he said, his daughter had been working at the office in secret, seeing if we were as hard-working and skilled as he had heard. Obviously, she had decided we were. And Jenna walked forward, giving her father a hug.

 

I was sitting in my office, my head in my hands. My colleagues had headed off to a celebration of the transfer of the firm, but I was sitting in the dark of my office trying to digest the new information.

 

A spanking. I had actually spanked the boss's daughter. His daughter, whom he always listened to. I realized now that she could have me fired with a single word. I wondered if there was a word to describe a screw-up of this magnitude. I decided there wasn't. I briefly considered making one.

 

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was Jenna, but not the Jenna who had worked for me, the lazy, talkative secretary. This was the real Jenna, a self-secure young woman who was her father's most effective worker.  I realized how efficient she was. She had pretended to be someone completely different, worn her like an outfit, all the while studying the firm, judging us, stealthily luring information out of the other secretaries. She was good.

 

“Mind if I come in?” she said, flashing a smile at me. She sat down on the chair in front of my desk. For the next few minutes, neither of us said a word.

 

“I'm so sorry,” I told her at last. “What I did was inexcusable, it was -”

 

“You did what you had to. You looked for an alternative to firing me, and you found one. Besides, I could have solved the situation easily. I could have phoned my father and asked him to explain the situation to you. I had already decided you could be trusted with the secret if it came to that.”

 

I looked at her, not even trying to hide my confusion. The whole day had been too much for my poor head, it felt like the puzzle was lacking a vital piece, a single piece of information that would make everything make sense. But I didn't have it.

 

She sighed, obviously annoyed at my ignorance. Then she smiled. “You know, I haven't been completely honest with you. I've been working here almost a month, and I could have told you this at any point. I've been withholding information, almost as bad as lying.” She stood up. “I guess you can say...” she said as she walked around the desk, “... I've been a bad girl.” With that, she leaned forward, pushing my chair back. She flipped her skirt up, leaning over my lap. As I sat there, staring at that beautiful bottom again, she looked at me with a stare that told me to get on with it.

 

I smiled. The missing piece of the puzzle. I lifted my hand and started smacking the willing bottom of the woman that would, in a year's time, be my wife.