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Authors: Ashe Barker
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
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waiting for me to argue with him.
I’m bristling at his off-hand, dismissive manner and I more than half-wish I’d stayed in my room. But he has a point, and I manage not to argue. Well, not this time.
With a satisfied—and in my view somewhat arrogant—nod, he continues, “So, no matter how big your majority shareholding, you, Miss Fischer, are the junior partner round here in every other way. You’ll do as you’re told, learn how things work, learn how to make yourself useful, and you’ll earn your bloody salary like everyone else.”
He may be right about my lack of knowledge, but I deeply resent the implication that I may not do my share of the work. I was lazy at school and look where it got me. Now, I’m a grafter. Despite my good intentions, I can’t keep my mouth shut, it seems, when he starts in this vein and I’m straight back on the offensive, “Thank you, Mr Parrish, but I do think I’ve heard enough now. I’m fed up of you talking to me as though I’m some sort of free loader. I didn’t ask to be here. I don’t mind working hard, I’ll do my share. But I’m telling you now, I’ll be rubbish in the office. Mrs Benson’ll probably sack me before the first tea break.”
His steel gray gaze catches and holds mine, and despite my sudden rush of bravado a moment ago, I feel my resolve shrinking under his stare. He waits a few moments before he replies, “One. If you want tea breaks, join a bloody union. And two, you get on the wrong side of Mrs Benson, and you and I will be discussing spanking again. More than just discussing it in fact. Are you understanding me here?”
I catch my breath and just stare at him. His words were toe-curling enough when he threatened to spank me from two hundred miles away at the end of a telephone, but here, in the same room, sitting just two feet away from me… My knickers are dampening yet again whilst my mouth goes bone dry. Speechless, I grapple with my conflicting responses. I should be insulted, outraged. I should be telling him to treat me in a professional manner. I should be ranting about sexual harassment and threatening him with God knows what dire consequences the law makes available to heap retribution on abusive employers. But I say and do none of that. And he watches me, his lip quirking in an amused half-smile, knowing exactly the effect he’s having on me.
Sure enough, “Well, Miss Fischer, I’m guessing from your expression that the prospect of a spanking is not entirely terrifying. I thought maybe not when you didn’t protest unduly the first time I suggested it. And we’ve already established I can’t dock your wages. Maybe I’ll need to come up with something else.”
Still I don’t answer, but I’m shifting in my seat, my knees pressed defensively together as I clench my buttocks.
He glances down at my legs, clearly sees my stiff posture, my awkwardness, and his smile broadens. “Panties wet just thinking about it? Oh, Miss Fischer, what am I going to do with you?”
It seems to me perfectly obvious what he’s going to do with me—to me—the first chance he gets. The question is, will he get that chance?
And yes, on reflection, I think he probably will.
Chapter Five
We peel the potatoes together, side by side at the huge sink, watched closely by Oscar who has followed us into the kitchen and is now sitting hopefully beside his food bowl. Cain takes the hint and tips some dried food into it. He tops up the drinking water too. The cat crouches over his dinner and starts to chomp noisily as we get on with preparing our own meal.
“I wouldn’t have imagined you as a cat lover…” I offer this observation by way of making conversation.
“I’m not, not really. I inherited Oscar. He was James’ cat and he’s lived here for the last ten years. He’s old and bad-tempered, but he mostly minds his own business and we rub along fine by ignoring each other. The deal is I feed him, and he stays out of my way.”
“I
I’m bristling at his off-hand, dismissive manner and I more than half-wish I’d stayed in my room. But he has a point, and I manage not to argue. Well, not this time.
With a satisfied—and in my view somewhat arrogant—nod, he continues, “So, no matter how big your majority shareholding, you, Miss Fischer, are the junior partner round here in every other way. You’ll do as you’re told, learn how things work, learn how to make yourself useful, and you’ll earn your bloody salary like everyone else.”
He may be right about my lack of knowledge, but I deeply resent the implication that I may not do my share of the work. I was lazy at school and look where it got me. Now, I’m a grafter. Despite my good intentions, I can’t keep my mouth shut, it seems, when he starts in this vein and I’m straight back on the offensive, “Thank you, Mr Parrish, but I do think I’ve heard enough now. I’m fed up of you talking to me as though I’m some sort of free loader. I didn’t ask to be here. I don’t mind working hard, I’ll do my share. But I’m telling you now, I’ll be rubbish in the office. Mrs Benson’ll probably sack me before the first tea break.”
His steel gray gaze catches and holds mine, and despite my sudden rush of bravado a moment ago, I feel my resolve shrinking under his stare. He waits a few moments before he replies, “One. If you want tea breaks, join a bloody union. And two, you get on the wrong side of Mrs Benson, and you and I will be discussing spanking again. More than just discussing it in fact. Are you understanding me here?”
I catch my breath and just stare at him. His words were toe-curling enough when he threatened to spank me from two hundred miles away at the end of a telephone, but here, in the same room, sitting just two feet away from me… My knickers are dampening yet again whilst my mouth goes bone dry. Speechless, I grapple with my conflicting responses. I should be insulted, outraged. I should be telling him to treat me in a professional manner. I should be ranting about sexual harassment and threatening him with God knows what dire consequences the law makes available to heap retribution on abusive employers. But I say and do none of that. And he watches me, his lip quirking in an amused half-smile, knowing exactly the effect he’s having on me.
Sure enough, “Well, Miss Fischer, I’m guessing from your expression that the prospect of a spanking is not entirely terrifying. I thought maybe not when you didn’t protest unduly the first time I suggested it. And we’ve already established I can’t dock your wages. Maybe I’ll need to come up with something else.”
Still I don’t answer, but I’m shifting in my seat, my knees pressed defensively together as I clench my buttocks.
He glances down at my legs, clearly sees my stiff posture, my awkwardness, and his smile broadens. “Panties wet just thinking about it? Oh, Miss Fischer, what am I going to do with you?”
It seems to me perfectly obvious what he’s going to do with me—to me—the first chance he gets. The question is, will he get that chance?
And yes, on reflection, I think he probably will.
Chapter Five
We peel the potatoes together, side by side at the huge sink, watched closely by Oscar who has followed us into the kitchen and is now sitting hopefully beside his food bowl. Cain takes the hint and tips some dried food into it. He tops up the drinking water too. The cat crouches over his dinner and starts to chomp noisily as we get on with preparing our own meal.
“I wouldn’t have imagined you as a cat lover…” I offer this observation by way of making conversation.
“I’m not, not really. I inherited Oscar. He was James’ cat and he’s lived here for the last ten years. He’s old and bad-tempered, but he mostly minds his own business and we rub along fine by ignoring each other. The deal is I feed him, and he stays out of my way.”
“I
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