Chapter One

Amanda's mind was a ceaseless clamor as she walked through the lobby and gazed without seeing at the objects in the store windows. Her mind was far too occupied to even notice what she was looking at. Her emotions were raw; running the gamut between fury and humiliation, between outrage and denial, not to mention a sense of shame that even now colored her cheeks.

And then there was the physical reminder - and color - of her lower cheeks, which were the cause of the clamor in her mind.

For she had, not five minutes earlier, left the office of her boss, Mister James Hawthorn after having been strapped on her bare bottom while bent across his desk.

He had not forced her into it, had not held her down, using his physical strength to impose his will upon her. No, it had been her choice, her option, to make up for a somewhat arrogant mistake she'd made in a job which was new to her. She ought to have been feeling her way slowly as she became accustomed to her responsibilities and the way things operated here.

She hadn't. Brash, full of self-confidence, she had overstepped her authority, made a decision which was not hers to make, confident he would have answered in the affirmative, not bothering to even ask, and been shown to be horribly wrong. Her decision had cost the corporation almost a million dollars!

And perhaps it was that chastening experience which had driven her to let him manipulate her into permitting his 'discipline'. Amanda was an honors graduate at Oxford. All her life she had been praised for her beauty and her brains. She'd gone to only the best schools, not because her family was privileged but because of her demonstrated intelligence.

She'd had many offers upon approaching graduation, selected the best, and gone to work for Pacifica Incorporated as a junior financial analyst. A year later she was an analyst, and a year after that, a senior analyst earning seventy thousand pounds a year with a brilliant career ahead of her.

And then at the age of twenty-five she'd ditched it all for a better offer, to come across the ocean and set up shop in New York, working as a senior analyst for Campbell-Ross, a New York brokerage firm, for half again more money. They hadn't been happy at Pacifica, but what did she care? She didn't need them.

Too much confidence, too much brazen self-assurance. Only to have it shattered by a grossly stupid error of judgment which had left her, quite fairly, for she'd broken very clear rules, open to immediate termination.

Which would have seen her returning to London in disgrace, and with the anger of Campbell-Ross joined to the indignation of Pacifica at how she'd left them so suddenly and taken their information with her. What would she do? Get a job as a bloody secretary!?

And what part had her only slightly hidden admiration for Hawthorn's looks and steely determination played in things? He was almost twice her age, but didn't look it. He was quite tall and had short dark hair without any sign of thinning or gray, broad shoulders, and a handsome face with a deep voice she found quite sexy.

He was also powerful, wealthy, educated, intelligent, and determined, a very A-type personality who knew what he wanted and got it. That was how she'd seen herself, too. Part of her wanted to imitate him and part of her wanted to jump his bones.

Unlike many of her female colleagues Amanda didn't mind flirting with men who had power at work. Given the harassment guidelines in place in most organizations she had little fear of it being turned against her as long as she was careful.

She was a beautiful young woman with golden blonde hair. She wore it in a professional way, expensively coiffed, barely brushing her shoulders, but softened with thick bangs cutting across her forehead above her glasses.

Her body was as perfect as God and she could combine to make it. He had provided the substance and she the maintenance. She was tall, lithe, and graceful, with a narrow waist, firm, full breasts, and long legs. She worked out very regularly to ensure she was nicely toned, too.

She always wore suits to work, and they weren't cheap either. Today's was a pinstriped navy double breasted with a white silk blouse beneath. Her skirt was halfway up her knee, slightly higher than average, but not quite high enough to cause anyone to raise eyebrows.

She was a confident person who was going somewhere! And she wanted people to know it!

She simply couldn't stand the thought of failing so publicly! Talk about flaming out early in her career! Some would be disappointed, and others would be smirking and saying things like 'told you so' to each other. No, no, she couldn't take that!

And yet, she perfectly deserved to have been fired. In retrospect, her mistake was patently idiotic! She had thought she knew what she was doing, but she was in a new country now! The rules weren't the same, nor were the laws! If Hawthorn hadn't caught it quickly things would have been far, far worse.

Fool!

No, she'd gotten off easy. And she'd gotten off by playing the poor, helpless girl routine, something she despised other women for doing. She'd been stricken, stunned by her mistake! It was so huge and so impossible to explain away! The consequences could not be denied or made good. And, unexpectedly, and humiliatingly, her eyes had filled with tears and she'd started to sniffle!

God!

So instead he'd spanked her like a little girl!

And she'd let him!

And part of the shame she felt was that she felt relieved. Her job was once again secure. She hadn't been fired, hadn't been sent home in disgrace. She'd managed to prevent that by acting like a helpless little girl. She could call it sexual harassment, she supposed, but no male would have been given the opportunity. He'd have been stripped of his pass and out the door with a security guard at each elbow.

It... hurt. It was outrageous, and had left her absolutely speechless when he'd casually offered it! She hadn't even believed he was serious at first! True, he was old-fashioned, and from Texas, that cowboy country far to the south, but even so!

Her buttocks were still hot and sore from the strap.

Bent across his desk, her skirt lifted up, her thong pulled down around her ankles, even as she'd tried to haltingly beg him to leave it up!

"But... but sir.. it's a thong!" she had begged. "I mean, it's not covering anything your strap is going to hit anyway!"

He snorted and gave her that steely eyed look of his.

"Miss Reed, you misunderstand the purpose of this punishment. Part of it is physical in causing pain, but most of its purpose is to cause shame. Physical pain eases very quickly. Shame remains."

He made her bent forward again, and she did so, heart thumping, her mind churning wildly.

"All the way, girl," he'd growled.

What? What did he mean by ..."

She felt his big, powerful hand on the back of her neck, bending her further over, until her breasts were pillowed out against the desk! That left her bottom raised horribly high and the soft pale skin drawn taut!

Nor had he been in a big hurry, leaving her to savor her own humiliation, knowing he could see her so clearly, so nakedly! She was smoothly shaven, and so there was little to hide the soft, vulnerable mons from his lusting male eyes - presuming they were lusting. And why wouldn't they be?

Crack!

She'd been unable to suppress a startled cry of pain as the strap had snapped down across her bottom! It had stung!

"Count."

"O-One," she gasped.

Crack!

She gasped, but clenched her lips together to keep from making another cry.

"T-two!" she moaned.

Crack!

"Nghh! Three!" she gasped.

Crack!

"Are you sorry for your arrogance, Reed?"

"Y-Yes, sir!" she moaned.

"Then let me hear you say it."

"I-I'm sorry for my arrogance, sir!"

Crack!

"Nghh! Seven!"

"Are you going to disobey again?"

"N-No, sir!"

Crack!

"Nghh! Eight!"

"Let me hear you say it."

"I-I won't disobey again, sir!"

Her eyes were filling with tears again! They were tears of both shame and pain!

"I believe I set forth quite clearly what your responsibilities were, and where you were required to consult me, did I not?"

"Y-Yes, sir!"

"And that you were an extension of my will, meant to investigate, report to me, and then convey my orders?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Not take it upon yourself to decide in my stead."

Crack!

"After a whole month in residence!"

"Nine, sir! I'm sorry, Mister Hawthorn!"

"As you should be. And are you ashamed, Reed?"

"Y-Yes, sir!" she moaned.

"Why? Because of the idiocy of what you did, the cost to this corporation, the betrayal of the trust I put in you - or because you're bent over my desk with your skirt up around your waist with me looking at you bare buttocks?"

"I-I... all of those, sir!"

Her face felt almost as hot as her bottom!

Crack!

Almost.

"Ungh! Ten!"

"It is clear I will have to supervise you more closely, Reed. You have energy and intelligence but little experience. It is experience which brings wisdom, Reed. And wisdom which brings judgment."

Bent over with her bare bottom raised, she was forced to accept his lecture while shame churned within her.

But there was more to it than humiliation. He hadn't touched her. He hadn't said anything sexual - if you left aside his offer of a strapping instead. But it was impossible for her to not be deeply aware that she was displayed obscenely before his male eyes. He was older but much stronger, and a man who got what he wanted. Suppose he decided to cast aside the strap and use something else on her instead!?

All he had to do was spread her legs and thrust himself home!

And it must be awfully tempting for him as he stood there behind her! Amanda flattered herself in knowing men and their motivation. There wasn't a straight man in the world who wouldn't be looking at her from his position and wanting to mount her and ride her like a bitch in heat! He might even think he had the right, given all the trouble she was causing him.

And it was hard for her to even deny the thought herself!

Had he demanded that, she knew, with a sinking feeling, she would have acquiesced. But he hadn't. Still, the knowledge he could do with her whatever he chose filled her mind even as the strap came down again.

Crack!

"E-Eleven!"

"Do you think you've learned anything, Reed?" he asked.

"Y-Yes, sir!"

"What?"

"That my self-confidence was misplaced here where the rules are not as familiar?"

"What else?"

"That I don't know enough to make decisions."

"What else?"

"That I should follow the rules in making decisions?"

Crack!

"Ahhg!"

"That you have no decisions to make, Reed. I make the decisions. All you need to do is ask me what to do, then obey. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

And then he'd pulled up her thong, dropped her skirt, jerked her upright, slapped her bottom, and sent her stumbling to the door, face and bottom both aflame!

Which left her in a quandary. What was she to do now?! She ought to leave and... and sue him for harassment! But that would be to make public what had happened! That would be a public humiliation! Besides, she didn't think that would be fair, really. He hadn't treated her worse than he would have a male colleague, but better.

She was also feeling deeply confused and even resentful of the sexual aspect of what he'd done to her; or rather, the absence of it. A grown man demanding he strap or spank a grown woman on the bare bottom was inextricably bound to sexuality! That could not be denied! Could it!? And yet, he'd been proper, hadn't made any obscene comments nor suggestions, nor had he even touched her body.

Why not? Did he have such high standards? Everyone said she had a gorgeous bottom. Didn't he think so!? Did he think he was too good for her? Why hadn't he sought to seduce her, to use her body!?

And why was she feeling insulted and resentful over that!? Was she insane!? Did she want him to grope and fondle her and maybe ram himself into her from behind! She'd been more than half expecting it the whole time! She was actually surprised when it hadn't come.

She let herself think sneering thoughts about him, that perhaps he wasn't capable of getting it up, or that he liked women. But she didn't think either was true. So why hadn't he?

She should be thanking her lucky stars he hadn't, and thinking of how to find work elsewhere in case worse happened next time!

But she was making nearly a hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year here! Where else could she possibly make so much, especially if unable to cite her work experience here or at Pacifica!?

It was an absurd situation! Who ever heard of a girl being strapped by her boss! Today!? In a major company!?

A girl. Yes. She had always played along to get along, been one of the boys, but never forgotten she was female. Hawthorn, though, made her feel like a girl, not a woman. He was old enough to be her father, after all. She supposed, looking back, that the way she'd previously dealt with him was probably not respectful enough.

That would change. He was not a man to joke around with. He was a powerful man to be respected and to be wary of.

But the problem was, her punishment was not yet complete.

The agreement she'd made was twelve today, and twelve more in a week. He'd wanted to give her two dozen immediately. It had been she who'd begged for it to be stretched out. Fool! Now she had it hovering over her, like the Sword of Damocles!

In another week she had to go back, bend over, expose herself, and let him strap her!

Perhaps she could talk him out of it, show him she'd mended her ways?

And what if he decided to DO her next time! To just do her right there bent over the desk!?

Well, you've had bad sex before, she told herself somewhat coldly.

But would it end there, or would he expect more whenever he was in the mood? Would she become his office bitch? His mistress? Would he put her up in a condo somewhere?

Well, at least that would save her a lot of money, she thought cynically. The cost of a place anywhere in New York, let alone in Manhattan, was hideously expensive!

The odd thing was she had let herself fantasize about just that earlier. Why not? He was rich, handsome and powerful, after all. What was the harm in fantasizing about them having an affair? She had come from Oxford but on scholarship, not because her family had much money. The extremely wealthy fascinated her. The idea of living as one, even second hand, was deeply attractive.

Of course, she'd never believed for an instant that she would, in fact, wind up being bent over, half naked across his desk! And while she had imagined something similar in her fantasies, it hadn't involved a strap being taken to her bottom!

No! It had involved hot, sweaty sex!

She returned to her small office and tried to focus on her work. Her bottom was warm but the outraged flesh had mostly cooled by then. Hawthorn was quite correct, it seemed. The flesh healed quickly but the blow to her self-esteem was much more lasting.

At end of day, she went home, still worrying over it all in her head, including that he'd fire her despite what he'd agreed, or at the very least would look down on her and never give her an important assignment again!

She moved with the crush of the crowds down in the subway, and absent was her usual sense of arrogant disdain about how much better she was than they.

Her rented condo was expensive, though small. It was necessary to keep up appearances, for the sake of office politics. Usually she took pride in it. Today she was too preoccupied. She went immediately into the small bathroom.

There was a large mirror behind the cabinet, and she'd installed a full length mirror on the wall facing it. That was convenient in allowing her to see how she looked from behind. She did so now, lowering her thong, lifting her skirt, and bending over the counter.

She stared into the mirror, trying to see herself as he'd seen her. Her buttocks bore no sign of her strapping. They were rounded and perfect, a shape she had often taken pride in. Now she tried to see herself through his eyes, wincing more than slightly at the sight of her tight, neat little sex peeking out between her closed thighs.

She straightened, blushing anew, her heart beating faster. What must he think of her now? That she was a weak, simpering little girl who needed her bottom strapped when she got out of line!? That was worse, in a way, than the spanking! She'd fought hard to be respected, to be thought of as an equal! To be dismissed as a weepy blond girl prone to doing stupid things was humiliating!

And he was the CEO. If that was his attitude she had little chance of promotion in future!

She would just have to ensure she changed his attitude! She would show him how tough she was, and how capable!

Of course, she still had that next strapping hanging over her head!

How was she supposed to pretend she was the equal to her male colleagues when she was being bent across the boss's desk for a bare bottom strapping!?

The problem was, at her level, how often was she going to come to his personal attention unless she did something monumentally stupid again?

She was stripping as she thought it, and glanced at herself in the mirror again. The fleeting thought crossed her mind that she could bargain with what she saw before her. All men were interested in what she had, in seeing it and touching it and making use of it.

That was her experience, at least. Men were always looking at her, wanting her. They were all sex maniacs!

Not that she had an inordinate amount of experience in that area. She was smart, but when you're on scholarships you have to perform. She'd studied very hard through high school and college in order to ensure her marks were high. That hadn't left a lot of time for partying.

Nor had things changed much in her obsessive need to do well at Pacifica, or here.

She had a great deal of self-respect, far too much to simply give herself to some man in some cheap, overnight fling. And she had very high standards for even accepting a date - presuming she had the time, which she rarely did.

Now if a man like Hawthorn had asked her out, well, that would be different!