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Right Hand Man

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When it was time for me to go to university my father arranged for me to stay with my aunt and uncle. They lived in this real big place, quite posh, it was. Aunt did all the housework herself and she was an excellent cook. They had a gardener in once a fortnight to keep the gardens and lawn under control.

Uncle had a home office and spent most of his day there. The only catch to living with them was Uncle’s secretary and right-hand man. Gordon was about thirty and actually lived in. Apparently Uncle wanted him on call all the time when he was home, which didn’t seem to be that often. He was always having to go off to places to sort out difficulties that had arisen. That, I assumed, was the right-hand man part of his duties.

For some reason I tended to act like a cat meeting a dog whenever I ran into Gordon. I don’t know why. He just seemed to me to be too full of himself, too arrogant. I did my best to avoid him with the result that we all got along quite well.

The first half of the year I was doing really well at the uni. The second half, not so well. Most subjects I was skating through with no problems. A reasonable effort and I was doing fine with those.

Maths, I wasn’t doing fine. I really think that the professor had a down on me for some reason. He was sarcastic and rude and his lectures were pathetic. It seemed to me that I’d be better off studying the stuff by myself rather than going to his lectures. So I started skipping them. Just that one subject, mind you. I figured that even if I failed that subject I could make up for it with other subjects.

The professor dobbed me in, didn’t he. He sent a message to Uncle, noting that I’d been missing from his lectures and hoping I wasn’t sick. He knew damn well I wasn’t. He’d seen me around the place often enough. Just not in his lecture where he could use me as the goat.

Uncle nailed me when I got home one evening, and started to deliver a lecture. I was already feeling slightly guilty about skipping those lectures, and when Uncle took me to task I got all defensive. Actually, truth be known, I didn’t go defensive. I went on the attack.

I was all teenage angst, rude and insolent, pointing out that I knew what I was doing and that I wasn’t a child and I’d thank him to butt out. I know I hurt his feelings and upset him, but I didn’t know how to back down and apologise. As you might guess, tensions were a little strained for the rest of the evening.

The next morning it was Saturday. Aunt and Uncle had both gone out and I was at a loose end, having nothing in particular planned for the day. I was just walking down the hallway when Gordon stepped out of the office and called me, asking if I had a moment to spare.

I stepped into the office. It was the first time I’d actually been in there. It was quite a big room. As well as the desk, there were several chairs, a table, and even a couch off to the side. The room was obviously used for business meetings as well as normal work.

Gordon was seated behind the desk looking at me, not smiling. When he found that my attention was finally on him he gave a brief smile and started to talk.

It took a few moments for me to really catch on to what it was saying, but then it dawned on me that he was reading me the riot act. Not only that but the swine had a sarcastic tone of voice that you could feel peeling little bits of skin off your hide as he talked. I’d heard of cutting tones but hadn’t known that they literally made you feel as though you were bleeding.

He ripped into me for upsetting Aunt and Uncle. He tore shreds off me for skipping the lectures. He pointed out that the effort I put in at the university was barely enough to get me a pass. He was of the opinion that if I had really put some effort into what I was doing I would have been getting high distinctions in all my work.

I have to say that he delivered the finest telling off that I’d ever been unfortunate enough to encounter. He verbally reduced me to the size of an ant and then squished me. Any effort I made to defend myself was ignored. He just talked right over me, reducing me to a spluttering silence.

By the time he finished I felt about an inch high. Thoroughly ashamed of myself and mad as fire at him for making me face up to the truth. Because he was right. I had just been cruising instead of working. I made up my mind on the spot that I’d show him.

I still tried to put on a show of defiance at the end.

“You can’t talk to me like that,” I protested. “You’re just my uncle’s secretary. It’s not as though you’re my father or anything.”

“And you can thank your lucky stars that I’m not your father,” he snapped, “or I’d put you over my knee for the disrespect you showed to your uncle.”

Oh, puh-lease. I’m eighteen. As though my father would spank me at that age. Gordon was way out of date. And a little imp of vengeful perversity bit me.

Now I was just knocking around the house. I hadn’t got dressed to go down the street or anything. All I was wearing was a t-shirt, skirt and panties. It was a hot day and I’d considered a bra unnecessary. If I was going out I could put one on.

So he thought I deserved a spanking did he. I’d show him. I just peeled off my t-shirt so I was standing there topless. I paused a moment so that he could get a good eyeful, then pushed down my skirt and panties and stood there naked. (Trying like the devil not to blush and bolt.)

“Need a spanking, do I?” I demanded. “Don’t let not being my father stop you. It didn’t stop you telling me off, after all. If you think I need one, go for it.”

Now I’d assumed that he would get all flustered and leave the room, and when he got out of his chair I damn well knew he was running and started smirking. The smirk sort of dribbled off my face when he sat on the couch and indicated I should approach.

He wouldn’t really spank me, of course. He was running a bluff, expecting me to grab my clothes and bolt. I wasn’t going to. No way. If anyone was going to back down it would be him.

I practically bounced over to him, still sure that he would have to back down. I mean, to start spanking a naked woman, one who’s no relation to you, but is most definitely related to your boss? Uh-uh. No way.

That pig. That low swine. That animal pretending to be human. Do you know what he did? Do you? I’ll tell you what he did.

As soon as I was within reach his arm came snaking out and grabbed me. One quick jerk and I was falling across his lap and he was holding me there. Then he hit me!

Now if I had even dreamed that he’d actually spank me I’d have assumed a few warning spanks to the bottom. You know, bottom pushed up, hand comes down and spank. Ha!

Gordon’s hand came swishing through the air in a long curve that collided violently with my behind at the bottom of the curve and just kept going up. Then it reversed direction and swishing back down, my bottom again the target.

I squealed at the first spank and tried to struggle. His arm holding me felt like a rod of iron. I screamed at the second spank, because his hand when it hit felt as if that was made of iron. And he kept on doing it.

Turning my head I would see his hand curving through the air. Then it would vanish and I’d know just where it was going. There’d be this awful slap on my bottom and then his hand would appear, completing the curve, only to stop and reverse direction.

I squealed and wriggled and Gordon spanked and lectured. I would apologise to Uncle. I would put some proper effort into my school work. Yes, I would, I assured him. Just stop.

As if it was that easy. Gordon apparently believes if you’re going to do something, do it properly. That way you won’t have to repeat it. Heaven knows this was one task I didn’t want him repeating.

When he finally finished he swung me to my feet and stood up. I was just standing there, feeling sore and sorry for myself, tears on my cheeks and red of face and bottom. At first I didn’t catch what he said or notice what he was doing.

I must have caught what he said, because it slowly registered on my conscious mind. That’s when I noticed what he’d been doing.

What he said was, “Now as to the sexual challenge you’ve thrown down,” and what he was doing was dropping his trousers, and it was bloody obvious that he was ready for any sexual challenge that came his way.

He grabbed me and pulled me flush against him and I could feel his erection pressing against my tummy. His hands slid down my sides and around behind me, closing over my bottom (my very tender bottom) and slowly lifting me into the air.

I could feel his erection dragging against me as he lifted. I’ve always like to be clean shaven, with the result that I could feel him dragging slowly against my mons and then pressing against my slit before his erection just popped between my legs and he held me there, lightly resting my pussy on his cock.

No way was I letting that thing into me and I curled my legs up and around his waist, determined to hold myself up off his cock. My arms were hanging onto his neck. I mean, I was really clinging to him.

“Oh, please,” I gasped, meaning ‘oh please, don’t do this’.

He took it the wrong way. Deliberately, I’m sure of it.

“You’re an eager young thing, aren’t you,” he said, a big smile on his face, and he let my bottom go.

So I had my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. Big deal. I still sank down a couple of inches and his cock was already resting against my slit. Then it was resting a couple of inches inside my slit. I couldn’t believe that he would slide in so smoothly.

Rather belatedly I found that I was all worked up and excited thanks to that spanking. I hadn’t known a spanking could get you sexually excited, and I’d just as soon not choose that way to get worked up in future.

Whatever the reason, I now had a couple of inches of big fat cock inside me. More bad news promptly followed. I just didn’t seem to have the strength to lift myself up off him. I was just sitting there, clinging to him and balanced on the end of his cock, while he just stood there, smiling at me.

Fine for him. He didn’t have to do anything but stand there. I had to try to get myself out of this situation. I opened my mouth to tell him to take it out and put me down, and he gave this odd little movement and I found him easing deeper inside me. I squeaked and clung to him, but for some reason I could just feel myself sinking down, letting that monstrous shaft push up into me. For some reason my legs just seemed too weak to grip properly. It was the spanking that did it, I’m sure of it. It left me too feeble to resist his nefarious intent. (Isn’t nefarious a lovely word. I’ll have to work that into one of my English essays.)

Basically what it meant was that I was getting shafted and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Slowly but surely I could feel him pushing higher and higher into me, and truth be known, it wasn’t that slowly. He just seemed to be pressing upwards and I sank down and accepted him. My legs curled around his waist, I found, just helped him to sink even deeper.

With him firmly inside me his smile just seemed to get wider.

“Time to visit the couch again,” he said, and started leaning forward.

He just lowered me onto the couch, coming down on top of me, and I finished up flat on my back, still clinging to him, and Gordon starting to bounce me against the couch.

It seemed that the philosophy of ‘if you’re going to do something, do it properly’ applied to this as well, although I’m quite sure Gordon wouldn’t mind repeating this little task. He certainly showed commendable enthusiasm for what he was doing.

He drove in hard and often, jolting me every time he hit home. He also watched my breasts with what appeared to be real appreciation as they jiggled back and forth under his loving care.

He wasn’t the only one following the ‘do it properly’ line. With no choice in whether I was actually going to have sex I saw no reason why I should be a reluctant participant and I was pushing up to meet him, taking him as deep as possible with every thrust.

I was squeaking and making all sorts of enthusiastic noises as he took me. When his hands finally took hold of my breasts I nodded in delight, loving the way they felt when he stroked them. Somehow he managed to take one nipple into his mouth without slowing down the hip action in the slightest. I just squealed and clutched at his hair – holding, not pulling.

He took me long and hard, just seeming to go on for ever. Not that I was complaining. I was too busy savouring what his cock was doing to me to worry about how long he took. As long as he kept going, I’d say nothing.

OK, maybe screaming to god, pleading with Gordon, demanding that he do it harder and faster, was saying something, but that didn’t count. I kept up with him, I’m pleased to say. Everything he dished out I met and returned, with me bouncing under him like one of those big rubber exercise balls. (I wonder what sex would be like on one of those. You’d probably fall off.)

I’d effectively been turned into a gibbering idiot by the time he made his end run and just took me apart. I climaxed and collapsed, feeling Gordon collapsing on top of me. We just lay there, me being crushed against the couch and not giving a damn.

Eventually we had to move and I found myself getting dressed. I still couldn’t resist having a last shot at him.

“What do you think Uncle will say when I tell him? He’ll probably fire you.”

“For giving you a spanking? I doubt it. He’ll probably say that you deserved it. Don’t forget you have to apologise to him.”

I wouldn’t. How could I with him there to remind me.

“I wasn’t referring to the spanking. I was talking about the other.”

“What other?” Gordon had the gall to ask.

“What you did on the couch,” I said indignantly.

“Spanked you?”

I just looked at him. I guess we both knew that there was no way I was going to mention the second half of what happened to Uncle. Or to anyone else, for that matter. I just took refuge in disdainful silence.

The silence lasted for seconds.

“Um, even if he doesn’t fire you he’ll probably tell you to move out while I’m here,” I said hopefully.

Gordon was slowly shaking his head, still laughing at me.

I sighed. He was right. Uncle would say that the spanking served me right and there was no way he would ask Gordon to move out. I’d do better to just keep my big mouth shut and not humiliate myself.

“Decided against telling your uncle, have you?” guessed Gordon, noticing the hint of resignation on my face. “There is one little thing we should clear up before you go and make an embarrassing slip. Embarrassing to you that is.”

I looked at him, one eyebrow lifted in enquiry. (Took me ages to learn that trick, but it’s a pretty good one. Impresses people no end.)

“In the matter of employment, you seem to have the wrong end of the stick. Your uncle is my secretary and right-hand man. Not me, his.”

I was stunned. Gordon was the boss? I thought of the occasions when I’d slung off at him and blushed.

“Then how come you bother to live in his house,” I asked, and the truth dawned even as he started to laugh. Gawd. Of course. It was his place.

“You’ve known all along what I thought, blast you. You’re a conniving swine.”

“My change of status doesn’t seem to have made you all polite and well-mannered where I’m concerned,” he said with a grin. “Now, just to upset you a bit more, go and get your notes on that maths you’re having trouble with and I’ll go over it with you. I’m quite good at maths.”

Oh, great. Not only was Gordon my uncle’s boss, but now it appeared he was going to be my tutor as well. And what would happen if I upset my tutor? My bottom winced at the thought.

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