Another week down and it's time for Fantasy Friday - a brand new Fantasy Friday! This is from a good friend, Rosie! Although she has been very busy she found the time to work on this for us. Rosie has written before and you can also go read, Mother Knows Best, that she wrote earlier this year. You can also pop over to her blogs, Rosie's are Red to read more.
The New Secretary
Marion Bartlett leant back in her comfortable wing chair, quietly pleased with the way the afternoon had gone. She had engineered a meeting between her only son Nathan and Jesamine, the girl he’d loved and lost. She had high hopes that her subterfuge would lead to them getting back together. Jessy was a lovely young woman, so right for Nathan. The problem was that he wanted a traditional marriage and Jessy, a modern, independent girl, was horrified by the idea of her man being in charge of the relationship. Worse than that was the thought of being spanked when she broke his rules. No, Jessy was definitely not going to live under any man’s thumb.
Marion had done a good job of explaining the benefits of such a relationship because that was the way her own marriage had worked right from the start. Now it was up to her son to convince Jessy that it could work for them too. She only hoped Conrad, her husband, wouldn’t see her intervention as meddling, otherwise she would find herself over his lap later for sure. She smiled to herself, recalling their early days.
Marion Reynolds was in a bit of a stew. She had dressed so carefully, hemline just above the knee, new pair of tights and low-heeled shoes. It might be the days of dolly birds and mini skirts but Cole, Skinner and Bartlett had a strict dress code. The girls in the typing pool had a little leeway, being under the radar of the partners, but they were still subject to the scrutiny of the old dragon, Miss Whitfield, and couldn’t get away with much.
But Marion wasn’t going to the typing pool today. She had been appointed as secretary to Conrad Bartlett, no less. Cole, Skinner and Bartlett was a modern company using dictation machines, but Conrad wanted a secretary who could take shorthand, a skill Marion had learned at night school. She had spent a week shadowing Paula, Conrad’s outgoing secretary, who was getting married and not returning to work. At the end of the week, Conrad had pronounced himself satisfied with Marion’s work and the job was hers, subject to three months’ probation.
Now, here she was on her first morning, having to choose between being late and presenting herself to her new boss with a large hole in her tights. She had taken an earlier bus than usual to be sure of being on time but had been thwarted by an elderly lady, who had pushed past her with a shopping basket on wheels, ruining the brand new tights as she went blithely on her way. The main shops wouldn’t be open until nine but, if she ran, she might just make it to the little corner shop and still be in the office before Conrad arrived.
She made it in the nick of time, though red-faced and flustered. Conrad stopped alongside her desk on the way to his office. “Good morning Miss Reynolds. Give me five minutes to get settled, then come into my office with the diary and your note pad, please.”
The morning passed in a blur of activity and Marion was glad when it was time for her lunch break. Several of the girls from the typing pool were in the staff room, teasing her about working for Mr Dreamboat. “He is handsome,” she agreed, “but I don’t think it’s going to be a picnic working for him, he’s a hard taskmaster.”
Disaster struck in the middle of the fourth week. The intercom buzzed, “Miss Reynolds, please come into my office.” That wasn’t good; he’d been calling her by her first name since the second day. She hurried into his office, where he handed her two long letters she’d typed that morning.
“Tell me what’s wrong with these,” he demanded, irritation written across his face.
She quickly looked through the letters but could see no typos. “I’m sorry, Mr Bartlett, I can’t see any mistakes, what have I done?”
“Look at the names of the recipients.”
To her horror, she saw that she had mixed up the two names and had addressed each letter to the wrong person. Correction tape was allowed for small mistakes but using it for a whole name was unthinkable. To add to her dismay, the names were repeated on the last pages too.
She was mortified. “I’ll re-type them during my lunch break, then you’ll still have time to sign them before you go to your meeting. I’ll make sure they catch today’s post.”
On his way out, Conrad stopped by Marion’s desk to thank her for getting the letters retyped. Ominously, he told her he wanted to discuss the matter further. “I’ll be back soon after five o’clock; do not leave before I return.”
Marion found it hard to settle during the rest of the afternoon and was relieved when Conrad strode into the office a few minutes after five. He called her in but did not invite her to sit down.
“That was a serious mistake you made today. I can’t overlook it; it will have to go down as a black mark against your probation.”
She looked stricken; she really wanted to keep this job. “I’m really sorry Mr Bartlett, I don’t know what to say.”
“There is another way. You could take a spanking instead.”
She wasn’t sure she’d heard right, “What do you mean?”
“A spanking, a hand smacking a bottom, did your father never spank you?”
“Yes,” she stammered, “a couple of times when I was a child, but I’m a grown woman, I’m too old to spank now.”
“There is no age limit on spanking Miss Reynolds. You don’t have to decide now, sleep on it and let me know in the morning. If you’re prepared to accept this alternative you will have to stay on after work tomorrow and I shall need your consent.”
Marion left the office with her mind in turmoil. She wanted to keep her job but, really, the idea of being spanked by her boss was quite ridiculous. She’d have to take the black mark and make sure she didn’t put a foot wrong for the rest of her trial period.
“So, what’s the verdict?” he asked her the next morning.
She looked down at her feet, her face flooding a deep red with embarrassment. “I’ll take the spanking,” she mumbled, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her.
“Right then,” he didn’t want to prolong her discomfiture, “in here at five-fifteen, that should ensure our privacy. Let’s get on with the quarterly report. Where were we?”
It was really hard to concentrate on business but, somehow, she made it through the day. Her stomach was turning somersaults when she presented herself to Conrad at the appointed time.
“I don’t want to make a meal of this, you know why you’re here don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes, Mr Bartlett, I’m so sorry for my carelessness, it won’t happen again,” she ventured, her lips quivering.
“You’re quite sure you want to go through with this?”
“Quite sure,” she said, more confidently than she felt.
“Very well. I’m going to sit on that chair and I want you to place yourself over my knees. If at any time you try to get up or otherwise interfere with the spanking, we’ll start over. Do you understand, Marion?”
She wasn’t sure why but his tone prompted her to say, “Yes, sir.”
The first smack made her jump but she made no complaint. Conrad kept up a steady tempo, building the heat until she began to squirm. As the fire took hold, she needed all her willpower not to shout out. She was beginning to think she’d never sit down again when, after a hard set of spanks on her sit spots, he finally let her up.
Conrad was out of the office the next day, much to Marion’s relief. The physical effects had faded overnight but the memory still made her blush.
They had gone over her tasks for the day and he had added another job with a note left on her desk. By lunchtime she had completed everything except for the extra job, which was unfamiliar to her. There was no mention of it in the handover notes, so she decided to give Paula a call for help.
Paula explained what needed to be done, before shocking Marion to the core with an unexpected question, “Has he spanked you yet?”
“What? You mean you knew what he was like? You told me how he likes his coffee and what biscuits to buy but you didn’t think to tell me about that?”
Paula giggled, “It’s sexy though, isn’t it?”
“No! No, it’s embarrassing, not at all sexy.”
“You’ll change your mind.”
“I won’t, it’s not going to happen again.”
She was determined not to blot her copybook again but came unstuck at a partners’ meeting. It was Conrad’s fault really. His hair had grown a little longer than usual and from where she was sitting Marion couldn’t help noticing how it formed a cute little curl on the top of his ear. It was only when Bryan Cole, the senior partner, said, “Miss Reynolds?” that she realised the topic had moved on and she’d been asked a question.
Conrad was furious. They’d barely got as far as her desk after the meeting before he ground out, “My office, now.”
She knew she was in big trouble, she’d slipped up in front of the most important people in the firm and it reflected badly on him.
“You embarrassed us both in that meeting. The partners accepted your apology but, frankly, I’d turn your bottom red right now if I had the chance.”
Her slip was unlikely to affect her probation. The partners had been nice about it but she didn’t want Conrad’s displeasure hanging over her. A spanking would clear the air. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Can we do it after work today? I don’t want to be thinking about it all over the weekend.”
The afternoon dragged but five-fifteen finally came around. Marion knocked on Conrad’s door, butterflies dancing a tango in her tummy.
“Miss Reynolds, right on time. You know why you’re here?”
“Yes, sir, I let you down today. I’m sorry and I’m ready to take my punishment.”
“Good,” he said, briskly. “I want you to bend over the table there and stretch your arms over to the other side.”
With her heart thumping in her chest, she did as she was told, eyeing up the thick wooden ruler on the left side of the table with dismay.
“Hold on to the edge of the table and stick your bottom out. I’m going to give you eighteen spanks with the ruler. As before, if you stand up or otherwise interfere with the spanking, we’ll start again from the beginning.”
He tapped her lightly to let her know he was about to begin but she still jumped when the first smack fell. By the halfway point she was stamping her feet and breathing heavily after each stroke and Conrad decided to give her a short break in the corner. Somehow, she managed to get through the second half without begging him to stop but it was a close-run thing. She’d never been so glad it was standing room only on the crowded bus home.
The rest of her probation passed with only two minor spankings. In truth, her mistakes wouldn’t have merited black marks against her, but she liked the idea of moving forward with a clean slate and Conrad was only too happy to oblige.
Despite those early mishaps, Marion had proved herself to be confident and capable in her new role and soon had Conrad’s office running like clockwork. In fact, he’d barely noticed the transition from one secretary to the other.
They were interrupted by a phone call during one of their regular diary meetings. Conrad indicated that she needn’t leave the room and, with nothing else to do, she found herself looking at him covertly, admiring his chiselled features and strong, manicured, hands. The memory of those hands spanking her bottom came, unbidden, to her mind and it wasn’t only her behind that tingled at the thought.
That thought kept coming into her head all day, like an itch that needed to be scratched. The spankings embodied Conrad’s air of authority and, though she hated to admit it, Paula was right. It was very sexy.
By the next day, the itch had to be scratched and she wracked her brain for a mistake that would get her spanked without causing any real disruption. The opportunity came in the afternoon, when a file Conrad needed for a meeting mysteriously disappeared. With five minutes to spare Marion handed it to him, apologising profusely for having misfiled it. Conrad was not amused by her carelessness and a five-fifteen meeting was scheduled for that evening.
The itch wouldn’t go away and Marion became adept at inventing mistakes that would ensure it was scratched. Eventually, the inevitable happened when Conrad followed a sound spanking with a thorough kissing.
The road to romance wasn’t entirely strewn with roses; there were a few thorns along the way. Marion was a strong, opinionated woman with a will of her own and Conrad was just as masterful out of the office as in it. Cole, Skinner and Bartlett didn’t have a policy on relationships within the office but it was frowned upon, nonetheless. Of necessity, their dates were in a nearby town or in Conrad’s house, where he had amassed a fabulous record collection. It was there one evening that Marion found herself over Conrad’s lap, atoning for shouting at him during a discussion. He stopped spanking and began circling his hand over her knickers. “When we’re married I’ll be spanking your bare bottom,” he told her. “You will marry me, won’t you darling?”
Marion was roused from her reverie by the sound of Conrad’s car on the drive. All those thoughts of bygone spankings made her bottom tingle. She went to the door to greet him with a kiss, “How did the golf go?”
“One of the best rounds in a while,” he grinned. “How was your lunch?”
“It was lovely to see Jessy but I’m afraid I might have been just a tiny bit meddlesome.”
“In that case, young lady, you’d better go straight upstairs.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, hanging her head.
Conrad wasn’t fooled for a moment. It hadn’t taken him long to see through her ruses all those years ago and he was always happy to play along.
Rosie, thank you so much. I do love getting new stories and you write so very well. I hope you'll soon have more time and you might send another. If anyone else is willing to help send your stories to firstname.lastname@example.org