From the Top Shelf - A Man of Authority, Part 2

Last week we read Part 1 of A Man of Authority, in which a hitherto meek and gentle manager suddenly began to assert himself. The assertion continues:

Despite her distress, Marian swung her head round and stared at me in horror and astonishment.

"I didn't give you permission to look at me."

She stared into my eyes for a moment longer before fear conquered her amazement and caused her to swiftly throw her face back to the juncture of the walls. I delivered a sharp whack to her buttocks with the ruler. She let loose a breathy and startled yelp.

"Don't do that again."

"Sorry," she said anxiously.

"What?"

I mean, sorry, Sir," she said, even more anxiously.

"Obviously I haven't been smacking you hard enough over the last few minutes. At least that's the impression your insolence is giving me."

"You have, Sir!"

I hit her with the ruler once more, barking, "Shut up!"

She wailed, her entire body jerking. Then she stood rigid and silent. From where I was, I could see her pretty, fresh face was crumpled in the effort to make no sound as she wept.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to speak only when spoken to?"

She nodded, eyelids bunched.

"Perhaps I need to ring your mother to tell her of your misbehaviour." Her eyes widened at the prospect but she dared not say anything in reply. "What do you think, Marian?"

Having been given permission to speak by an interrogative, she could barely manage it. "Please don't..." she whimpered.

"Hmmm. Well, I shall see if your attitude improves after the next round of punishment. If it doesn't - if I get any more insolence of the kind you've just shown me - then I shall ring your mother. Is that clear?"

She nodded miserably.

"Right. I want you on top of the desk on all fours."

She turned slowly and, teeth sunk into her lower lip, walked with an air of complete dejectedness back to my desk. As she climbed onto it in the ungainly way her half-mast underwear necessitated, I was treated to the sight of her vaginal lips peeping briefly between her thighs before she settled herself and demurely closed her legs.

I crossed over to her and pushed her blouse further up her back - which gave me another excuse for a prolonged bout of contact with that soft silk-like flesh. At my thigh level, the worn soles of her court shoes pointed at me rather in the manner of those cartoons where a horizontal man and woman are represented only by the bottoms of their feet. It was such a demeaning position for a young lady and it gave me yet another surging thrill. I was emboldened still further.

"Chin on the desk," I said.

Marian lowered her face until it was resting among my papers. I put my fingers inside her pantyhose and knickers and slipped them as far down her legs as they would go.

"Now spread your legs," I commanded. There was just a perceptible hesitation, then she parted her thighs about one centimetre. I smacked one of her cheeks and shouted "Wider!"

She let out a sob but she still shifted her legs as much as was possible. She was now in the most undignified and revealing position of all... I swallowed hard. I could have simply stood and stared at this beautiful sight for hours. I gathered my reeling senses and positioned myself to one side of her. I raised the ruler. Just as I was about to strike, I stopped and shifted my aim. I swung my arm down and the transparent end of the ruler made contact right below her open bottom cleft. Marian let out a desperate scream and her torso sprang upwards. I moved quickly, grabbing her neck and savagely thrusting it back the way it had come.

"Down! Down!" I ordered.

Groaning in agony, shell-shocked, she sank back towards the desk-top.

"You will not scream. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," she moaned in a delirium of pain. Her hands were fluttering around her thighs. I took hold of each of them in turn and threw them onto the desk.

It was the first time I had been worried we might be overheard. Marian's work space separated us from where our nearest colleagues might conceivably be, and even that was an underused corridor. However, such was the piercing quality of her exclamation that it was just possible someone might have heard it. I waited for a few moments, frozen with one hand clasped around Marian's neck. There were no sounds of feet pounding in our direction, no anxious banging on the door. I relaxed.

I squeezed her neck harder and said, "Marian, if you disturb our workmates by making a row like that again, I'll double your punishment. Clear?"

Her lips struggled across the paper they were pressed flat against and enunciated a distorted "Yes, Sir."

"Good." I let go of her neck. I walked around the desk and retrieved from one of its drawers a plastic, tubular container. I lifted Marian's head by pulling on a clump of her red bob and instructed, "Open your mouth!" She did so. I put the glue canister lengthways between her lips. That done, I circled back to her other, even lovelier end. "Now. We shall start again."

And we did. Down would come that ruler with a whistle like a flying arrow. Muffled would emerge the vocal response as Marian squealed through the fat tube of plastic that was keeping her expression in a permanent grimace. Bang would go my heart at the knowledge of the delightful suspense I was creating in her mind by varying my target; she never knew where one of the downward sweeps would land. For another ten minutes this went on - without doubt the greatest ten minutes of my life.

When I finally went back round the desk and removed the tube from Marian's mouth, so deep were the teeth marks that I was surprised she hadn't bitten clean through the surface.

I told Marian she could stand up. As she did, I was gratified to see that she was now so submissive that she resisted the urge to comfort her bottom and instead stood to attention, hands flat against her sides.

"You now know what the consequences of tardiness will be, Marian. I expect no more of it. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," she muttered in a cracked voice. "It'll never happen again, I promise."

I sucked my lips in to hide my smile. Oh yes it would! For the first time in my life I had experienced a taste of power and I would surely arrange a way to exert it again. And again. And again. It didn't matter how meticulous Marian was from now on. She would continually find herself having to report to me in disgrace with the news that an article had - inexplicably - gone missing.

"Get dressed," I instructed her and she did so with alacrity.

You may think this is the end of the story. Not so. Our wedding invitations have just been sent out and you never know, you may be one of the lucky ones!

Hooray! A happy ending (pardon the pun:)