At the age of twenty-three, the office worker Lena had ended up in the fortunate position of being mentored by Edward Robbins, one of the higher-ups at the company. He had told her he was impressed by her ambition, her work ethic, and her willingness to own her mistakes – her most glaring flaw was her lack of experience. With his guidance, her work improved rapidly. However, he eventually noticed that her progress was threatening to make her overconfident. She didn't heed him as much as she did during the first few months, and she took unnecessary risks. He tried to talk to her, to guide her back to the path. It seemed to work, for the first few days, but she was soon getting lazy again.
Five months after the start of the mentorship, the real trouble happened. Lena had sent some documents with confidential information to the wrong contractor, leading to some difficulties with the client. After making a few phone calls to calm the situation, Mr Robbins called Lena into his office.
He had not asked her to take a seat, so she stood before his desk, fighting the urge to fidget. She felt like a schoolgirl standing before her strict headmaster. Mr Robbins was a tall, broad-shouldered man with strength in his frame, confidence in his eyes, and just a hint of grey in his dark hair. He was currently examining some documents, not looking at her – she knew it was a deliberate tactic on his part; he was trying to heighten her discomfort. It was working.
Finally, he placed the documents down and glanced up at her. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"I am sorry, sir," she said, meeting his gaze. "It was a silly mistake, made in the heat of the moment. I should not have been so careless."
"No, you shouldn't," he said. He picked up a pen and made some notes on a piece of paper – she'd never quite worked out whether he was actually writing something, or just giving himself time to think, and to let her stew. He looked up at her again. "I'm about to write a report on this affair, and I have two options. The first is to write exactly what happened, which will be a black mark on your record. You'll certainly survive, but it is likely to affect your future career trajectory."
She knew he was telling the truth – this would be an obstacle for her. "And the other option?" she asked.
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, feeling naked and vulnerable under his gaze. "I swear to you that if you give me another chance, I will not waste it."
"Yes, I've heard words like that from you before. It doesn't last, does it? A few days – a week, at most – and you're back to your old sins, aren't you? I'm afraid it's going to take more than that this time." He furrowed his brows, regarding her coldly. "Tell me, Lena, have you ever been spanked?"
She blushed. She had not expected a question like this. She looked at her feet, no longer able to meet his eyes. "Yes, sir. My father was a firm disciplinarian. They used corporal punishment at my school as well."
"And did those spankings make you behave? Did they help you learn your lesson?"
She squirmed, uncomfortable with discussing these things at work. "Yes, sir. I believe they did."
He wrote another note.
"Sir?" she said nervously. He looked up. "Surely you're not thinking of..." she bit her lip, unable to finish the sentence.
"...To put you across my knee, bare your bottom, and spank you soundly to teach you a lesson?" He placed the pen down on the desk. "That's exactly what I'm proposing to do."
"You can't force me do that!" she replied, shocked. Her voice was more high-pitched than she'd hoped.
"I'm not proposing to force you," he said with a calm shrug. "That's my offer – I can write the report and leave you with the fallout of your actions, or I can take the blame, but you'll face MY justice. If you decide to take my offer, I expect to see you back in my office at closing time. In the meantime, I suggest you return to your desk." He returned his attention to his documents, and it was clear their conversation was over.
For the rest of the day, Lena tried to focus on her work, but found it impossible. The image of herself being placed across Mr Robbins' knee, having her bottom spanked, kept forcing its way into her head, and nothing she did could dislodge it. She tapped her pen irritably against the desk. What should she do? Was the humiliation of being spanked at the office worth it to avoid the incident on her record?
The last time she'd been spanked, she'd been nineteen. She'd taken some money from her mother's wallet to go to a concert. Her father, who firmly believed that she was never too old to spank as long as she lived at home, had sent her to her bedroom to put on her pyjamas. She'd sat on the side of the bed, waiting for him. Once he finally arrived, he'd scolded her, draped her over his knee, lowered her pyjamas bottoms, and given her a thorough bottom-blistering that had her howling, sobbing, and kicking long before it was over. Even at the time, she'd thought she was far too old.
And now, at twenty-three, she was going to be spanked again.
At the end of the workday, as the others left the office, Lena knocked on Mr Robbins' door. He told her to enter, and she stood before his desk, still resisting the urge to fidget.
"Have you decided to accept my offer?" he said calmly. "Or should I send in my report?"
"I..." She hesitated, struggling to force herself to say the words. "I-I will take the spanking, s-sir."
He nodded. "That might be the wisest course of action. Very well." He pushed his chair back, patting his lap. "I see no reason why we shouldn't get this over with. Bend over my lap."
Hesitatingly, Lena walked toward her doom. Here she was, a grown woman with a promising career, about to place herself over someone's lap for a spanking. She fought to keep the tears back – bending over his knee was embarrassing, but it would be even more humiliating to start crying before he'd even touched her.
She placed her weight on his lap, feeling his firm thighs under her stomach. He patted the seat of her pencil skirt. "You've been a neglectful young lady," he scolded her. "I hope this teaches you a lesson." And he started to spank her.
She hissed as the first smacks landed on her soft bottom. It had been years since the last time she found herself over the knee, and the intervening time had dimmed her memory of the pain. He moved his hand from cheek to cheek, delivering firm slaps with the regularity of a metronome.
He did not waste his breath on further scolding as he spanked – they both knew why she was there, and he seemed determined to teach her a lesson as quickly and efficiently as possible. He spanked hard and fast, and she was soon curling her toes, wincing in pain. After a few minutes, he rested his hand on her warm rear.
"That should be enough of a warm-up," he said. "Stand up and take off your skirt."
As Lena rose to her feet and began to undress, she almost felt it would have been a relief to see a lecherous grin on Mr Robbins' face. It might be easier to take if she could convince herself that he was spanking her for his own perverted pleasure. However, the look on his face dispelled any such illusions. He had the patient face of a man completing a necessary, but unpleasant task. It was clear that at the moment, he was not regarding her as a sexy, young woman that he had under his control, but as a misbehaving child in need of correction. Somehow, this made the whole thing worse, and she could no longer stop herself from crying.
She folded her skirt, placed it on the desk, then quickly laid down over his lap, not wanting him to see the tears in her eyes. He placed his hand on the seat of her dark panties, gently rubbing before lifting his hand to continue the spanking. As his firm palm struck, she yelped – the pain was much worse without the protection of her skirt.
His firm palm continued to crack down on her soft, sore seat, causing her to cry out in pain. She had wanted to seem tough and unaffected, but the pain was too great.
Things became even worse when Mr Robbins placed his fingers in the waistband of her panties. Until this point, there had been a small part of her that had fervently hoped that she'd misheard or misunderstood him when he'd talked about 'bare-bottom' spankings. That had just been a turn of phrase, right? He didn't ACTUALLY intend to pull her knickers down in the office.
But despite her silent, impassioned prayers, Mr Robbins lowered her panties to her knees, revealing her naked form to his eyes. "I hope you're learning your lesson, Lena," he said calmly. "I don't want to do this again." It sounded like he meant what he said.
The thin fabric had provided little protection, but as he continued to spank her, she started to howl and kick her legs. Maybe it was the humiliation of having her last defence stripped away, but she soon broke down sobbing, pleading with him to have mercy on her. The proud, strong grown-up was reduced to a bawling child.
After what seemed like hours of scorching agony, she gradually realized that he was no longer spanking her, but gently stroking the pain from her blistered rear. He helped her to her feet, then surprised her by holding his arms out to offer her a hug. She practically threw herself against his chest, crying into his shirt as she comforted her and told her that she was forgiven.
Once she'd calmed down, she pulled her panties back up – she left the skirt on the desk for now – and began to rub her stinging bottom. He made a few notes on the report he'd written, then picked up the phone.
"Jeffery? Hello, it's Edward. Yes, I'm sorry about the Sanders incident – all my fault, you know. Oh, you didn't know? I gave her the wrong instructions, and she followed them to the letter. Yes, I'm sorry for the whole thing." He tapped his pen against the desk. "What I think about her?" He glanced up at the tear-faced young woman. "She's a good kid. A bit hard-headed lately, maybe, but I believe she has a bright future ahead of her."
And despite the pain in her bottom, Lena smiled.
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