James took a step closer to her. Seeing his gloved hands clench angrily, she did as he ordered, face impassive. She wouldn't let her guard down again. The shapeless sweater went first, followed by her skirt, boots, and socks until she stood in her black lace bra and panties. Maura's only concession to pretty when she was in smart and nerdy mode was gorgeous lingerie. The feeling of silk and lace against her skin made wearing the ugly, loose clothes more bearable. James noticed a slight curl to one corner of his mouth.
"A gorgeous slut under all those ugly clothes. Now, I know you have some knowledge of how to dress properly, MacLaren. So why do you deliberately choose to appear so plain at work?" He was walking around her now, Maura could feel the brush of his beautiful wool suit, feel his heat radiate on her back. He was taking the clips out of her messy bun and combing his fingers through the snarls in her long hair.
"I believe you remember the reception I got after your colleagues spotted me at the club? How long do you think it would take for Mr. Fassell to injure me to the point you'd have to- what happened with your last two secretaries? Reassignment?" Maura just stopped herself from making mocking quotation marks with her fingers as she drew out the word reassignment. "Perhaps, given as a present to a visiting client? Pretty doesn't survive at Jaguar Holdings, but useful does."
He stared at her impassively for a long and terrible moment. Inclining his head, he said, "That's logical. Clever, even." His eyes were azure, a shade Maura had not yet learned to read as a barometer of his mood. They ran leisurely over her legs, toned from running and martial arts. Her hair was curling coyly over her lace-clad breasts, hiding the pink nipples he was so fond of nibbling on. "Take off the rest."
She drew in a long breath through her nose, letting it out through her mouth. Reaching behind her, Maura forced herself to stare back at James. Pulling off the lace scraps and dropping them on the floor, her fingers went to the sides of her panties, hesitating. His brows drew together, and she pulled them down over her thighs before he could issue another threat. Standing nude in front of him - still fully dressed in his expensive suit - was harder than she expected, but Maura forced herself to stand tall, face schooled into impassive lines. James still didn't touch her, didn't move closer at all, just continuing his leisurely examination.
Finally, he ordered, "Go into the living room." He watched the movement of her ass as she did as she was told, the dark hair flowing down her slim back making her skin look so pale. James followed her, taking a seat in a large, comfortable armchair. "Stand in front of me."
Gritting her teeth, Maura did as he asked, hating the uncertainty of the moment, her mind rapidly trying to calculate a dozen different options of escape.
"You've been exceptionally, astonishingly, badly behaved." He made himself more comfortable while ticking off his list of offenses. "You raised your voice to me. Defied me. Swore at me. Questioned my authority." Pausing for a moment to look her over again, James ordered, "kneel over my lap."
Maura could only blink at him, startled. "You want me to-"
"I believe you heard me the first time. Kneel over my lap." James spread his long legs, making room for her body. "I won't ask again." This time, his voice was low, rage simmering just underneath and Maura suddenly realized how much anger he was keeping in check.
A little awkwardly, she leaned over him, placing his closest thigh in the cradle of her pelvis and laying her arms and chest over the other. Her curls brushed the carpet as she tried to find her balance. Just as she did, James quickly hitched up one leg, knocking her off balance again so that Maura had to wrap her arms around his muscled thigh to keep in place. "Four infractions. Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable." The rage was still just under the surface when he spoke, and she drew in a sharp breath. "I believe five strikes for each offense is appropriate." Her head shot up at his last words and as one warm palm slid over her bottom, rubbing it softly. She realized he was still wearing his leather driving gloves.
"You can't mean to-" she gasped, outraged that he would attempt to spank her like a naughty child.
A sharp, brutal slap across her left cheek drew a strangled shriek of pain and outrage from Maura.
"That's exactly what I plan to do. And you will count each stroke and you will thank me for it."
"I won't do- AH!" Another blow, harder than the first and directly over the red handprint already appearing on her smooth skin.
"Are you ready to begin?"
His voice was still impassive, patient as if he had all night to administer warning strikes on her bottom. Maura angrily set her jaw, refusing to answer. Another slap, this time on her right. She refused to make a sound until James raised his hand again. "Are. You. Ready?" he emphasized in his low, rich voice.
"Y-yes."
Another sharp slap, this time on her upper thigh and Maura gasped, not expecting it. "Yes, what?"
She poured every ounce of hate into her response. "Yes,Sir."
"Very well. We'll begin." The first blow was over the red mark decorating the creamy skin on her right buttock. The leather of his gloves made the strike so much worse.
"One," she gulped, "thank you, Sir." A hand rubbed the sting gently for a moment, so Maura was unprepared for the next strike on her upper thigh again. "Mmm- two! Thank you, sir." The unsettling combination of soothing comfort from one huge hand and the vicious strike of the other confused Maura, holding on to his long leg for dear life, gritting her teeth. By the fifteenth slap, her pale bottom was a screaming combination of pinks and reds, handprints from James’s spanking criss-crossing over each other. More slap marks reddened the soft skin of her thighs. She was shaking with the effort of keeping the tears from letting loose, and the whole thing confused her. She'd borne unimaginable pain before, refusing to scream, sometimes not even flinching. This spanking was painful, but nothing at all like the beatings she'd taken from her father. So why was it so hard to keep from crying?
"Ow! Um, six-sixteen. Thank you, Sir."
Her whole body stiffened as one large palm raised as the other ran gloved fingers over the welts, then trailed along the slit between them. Her soft lips were bare as the leather prodded them, making that part of her even more sensitive.
James smiled darkly as Maura moved against his lap, trying to get away from his diabolical fingers. Gently swiping them against her one more time, he reached in front of her face. "What do you see?"
She sniffed, "I- I don't- Your glove, Sir?"
His low, pleased chuckle made her stomach clench in spite of herself. "Coated with you, darling. So wet, when I'm spanking your naughty little ass."
To her horror, he was correct. Maura was focusing so hard on controlling her pain and embarrassment that she didn't realize her hips were starting a small, helpless twist against his hard thighs, moisture glistening on her swelling lips. "Ah!" she groaned, biting her lip, desperately trying to keep her composure. "S-s-seventeen, thank you, Sir." This time, James' gloved hand struck directly on her wet center, the slick making the tender lips sting even worse. Gritting her teeth again, Maura tried to move away as one thick, gloved finger pushed into her slowly as her narrow walls tried to force it back out. A sharp snap of the gloved hand on her sensitive clitoris made her shriek this time.
"Did I tell you to move?" James's voice was different, thicker with arousal.
Maura's head drooped. "No Sir," she whispered.
