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“With MumandFather Murray!” she shouts and stamps her foot. Her sensible tennis shoes make no sound against the carpet, and it seems to annoy her even more.
I’m at a loss. “Okay?”
“Without me!” She points at herself.
I get up from my chair, my brows furrowed. “Do you want to go and celebrate Fin’s photo shoot?”
“No-o,” she whines and wipes a tear from her cheek.
“Then, what is wrong?”
“I want them to celebrate me! I-I want Mum to say ‘Hey, Caitlin. Splendid work, let’s celebrate how well you’ve been doing!’” She’s outright crying now, sniffling and sobbing.
“Caitlin…”
“But noooo.” She throws her arms out and whips her head back dramatically, her hair a red cloud around her face. “Always Fin this and Fin that. He’s the heir, he’s the important one.”
“Caitlin, that’s enough.” I’ve never seen her like this.
“And Dad, he—”
“Forget your dad, I’m your daddy.”
“What?”
“I’m your daddy, and right now, Daddy’s going to spank you for being a brat.”
I don’t know who’s more surprised by my words, her or me, but at least I’ve made her shut up. I stare at her for a long moment, her mouth open. I wet my lips. I should just laugh it off.
Instead, I find myself tapping the edge of my desk and say gruffly, “Bend over.”
My heart is racing in my chest, wondering what her next move will be. I take in a sharp breath of air as she timidly comes closer, all the while holding my gaze with her teary one. I let out a silent moan as she grips my desk and lowers her torso. Why do I find this so erotic?
A flash of sense hits me, and I say, “Don’t move,” before I rush out in the hallway. Lights are off, everyone has gone home. I return to the office and lock thedoor.
Caitlin hasn’t moved. Tension increases as I slowly approach to her. I run my palm down her straight back, down to her skirt.
“Have you ever been spanked before?” There’s a dark timbre to my voice.
“No, only put on the naughty step,” she answers, timidly.
I picture her naked and kneeling on the step, forced to stay like that after being naughty. It’s an enticing image that I’m surprisingly tempted to bring to life at some point.
Achingly slowly, I lift her sea green skirt that does nothing for her figure. But I know what she’s hiding underneath. White panties appear, stretched over her round behind. I peel them down her legs and lick my lips as her pink slit comes into view.
She yelps as my palm connects with her fleshy cheek. I didn’t hit her hard, and still the skin flushes with my handprint. A red hand on her milky white skin with a light scattering of freckles. Mesmerised, I bring a bit more force to the next slap, testing the power of my strokes and her reaction.
I’ve never been into spanking, but as Caitlin’s ass turns increasingly rosy, my breathing slows and the outside world disappears. All my focus is on the woman bent over my desk. How her fingers grip the desk, changes to the curve of her back, the hitches to her breath, the tone of her sobs. She’s still crying, but it’s less erratic and more… more of a release. Her slit is glistening in invitation. My cock is hard, yet it’s a different turn-on, a different type of desire.
She flinches with my next slap, and I instinctively know it’s time to stop. I sink down in my chair and bring her with me, tucking her into my lap. She curls up in a ball. I hold her tight, let her tears soak my shirt while I whisper soothing words and gently stroke her hair. Soon her sobs subside.
“Do you feel better now?”
On a big, shaky intake of breath, she says, “So much better. Almost… serene.”
“I feel good too. It was… kind of cathartic.”
We’re quiet for a while, both of us pondering this new revelation – sides of ourselves we didn’t know existed. A side I for sure want to explore.
