DeAndre was by no means my boyfriend. Call it what you want. Friends with benefits, sex partner, fuck buddy. But he was also my boss.
He was a business man, big, rich and powerful in our home city of Charlotte, North Carolina. He was rich. Filthy rich. And only twenty three years old. He'd inherited his C.E.O position from his father, DeAndre Williams the first. I made a lot as his assistant.
Our relationship was by no means because of his money.I could care less about that. I had been attracted to him from the moment I laid my eyes on him. I had handed in my application to his former assistant, a not so attractive lady in her thirties who was moving across the country. I had been called later that day by her, wanting an interview later that week.
DeAndre had given me the interview, but I didn't know that I was going to be working for him. I thought he was just the manager of the Cadillac dealership. But no, he was the owner himself. I walked in, and he was wearing black dress pants, a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his tie on lose. He was so. Damn. He was tall, 6'3." A foot and an inch over my own 5'2." He was well built, a football players body with dark, chocolate skin.
His black hair was in cornrows. He was nice, friendly. Not obvious in anyway. He hired me on the spot, and introduced himself to me as my new boss. It took me a moment to realize that it was him that I would be working for. It didn't take long for us to admit that we were attracted to each other. It took less time after that for us to start having sex. The first time was after a staff party, when we were both a little drunk and I had gone home with him.
He was single with no kids thank God. We started having sex on the regular. Mostly at his house, but sometimes at his office. He acted large and in charge. He took control most of the time, which was something that really turned me on. He was only the second guy I had sex with, and the first black guy. At nineteen years old, my record wasn't too bad. Sometimes I'd displease him with my work, and he'd punish me.
A light spanking followed by rough sex. Sometimes he'd refuse to let me cum. Besides that, the only real punishment of the whole situation was being sore for a couple of days afterwords. But generally.We got along. The lease in my apartment was up, and he invited me to move in with him.
No boyfriend title, so no commitment. It'd be easy.
I jumped at the chance. The first night I spent in his condo, I walked around in bra and panties to tease him. We had sex most of the night, and both showed up late the next morning. Not that it mattered- he was the boss.
No one at work knew what was going on, which was the fun thing. It was a secret, which made everything even more sexual. I've lived with him two months so far. "Brooklyn, are you listening to me?" DeAndre's voice snapped. I looked up from my bed to see DeAndre standing in the doorway of my room, or his guest room. Whatever. He was wearing pajama pants and no shirt.
His amazing body distracted me for a second before I heard the irritated tone of his voice. "What?" I asked. "I told you, you're coming in early with me tomorrow. I have a lot of work to do." "I've gone in early all week," I said, my voice irritated and rising slightly to match his, "I'm tired." "It's Friday tomorrow," He said, "One more day won't kill you." "It might," I shrugged as he turned to close my door. He stopped, narrowing his eyes at me for a moment.
"You better hope, for your sake, that you come to work with a better attitude then that. Got it?" "Whatever," I said, pressing my lips together. The past week or so, we'd been harping on each other. Maybe it was because we spent so much time together, and it was finally catching up with us.
It had been resolved quickly with sex, so our irritation never lasted long. I went to bed a little later then I planned, and didn't get to the office that day until eight a.m. An hour earlier then I usually was here, but not early enough for DeAndre. I set my purse on the desk, my back to the door. I was going through it, looking for some gum when I felt his presence behind me.
He had his hand on either side of me on my desk, so I couldn't really get away from him. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago," He snapped.
I turned around, looking up at him. Our faces were inches from each other. "Maybe," I began, my tone already smart, "You should have woken me up." I crossed my arms over my chest, shifting my weight to one hip, showing him that he wasn't intimidating me like he was intending to. "I'm your boss, not your alarm clock Brooklyn," He said in a low voice, "You're staying an hour late today." "What?" I said, "I have plans tonight!
You know that." "Not anymore you don't." He wasn't telling me that my plans would have to wait until six o clock. He was telling me that I wasn't going anywhere tonight, at all. His voice was final, giving me no room for argument. I bit my lip, resisting a smart ass comment. But when his scowl turned into a satisfied smirk, I couldn't resist. "From the time I get here until the time I leave, DeAndre," I began through narrowed eyes of my own, "You are my boss.
After that, I don't have to do anything you say." That was the beginning of a long day. In front of everybody else we acted normal, happy, friendly.
But when it was just him and I.We were at each others throats over the littlest things. The drink he brought me back when he went to get lunch. The way I stapled papers together.
Tiny things like that. At three, we both drove back to his condo to get things we had forgotten that morning. He insisted that I ride back with him. We fought for fifteen minutes about it until I finally gave up and rode with him. By five fifty-five, I was ready to rip my hair out. I had my stuff ready to go, and had walked past his office when. "Brooklyn!" He barked.
I stopped, scowling. I turned around and walked into his office. He was in there with another business partner, one only a couple of years older then him.
A white guy, Daniel. He was cute, but to skinny for my liking. He handed me a manilla folder of papers. "Type this up." Bye then, I'd had enough. "Type up your own damn report," I snapped, tossing it back on his desk. The papers scattered all over his desk, and there was a look of disbelief on Daniels face, as well as Dendre's. But DeAndre's had a mix of embarrassment and.rage. I turned around, my nose in the air slightly. Mission accomplished. I was about five feet out of his office when I heard him say to Daniel, "Will you clean this up?
I'll be right back." My heart thumped slightly, but I kept walking. I was in the elevator when he caught me. Alone. "How.dare you embarrass me like that, Brooklyn?" He seethed, "You're going to pay for this." I gulped, my "You can't tell me what to do." attitude diminishing by the second. I took a deep breath, to smart to say anything back. He tossed me his keys. "Get in my car, and wait. I'll be there in ten minutes.
Do you understand me?" I didn't say anything. "I said do you understand me?" I looked at the ground, "Yes." I knew I was in trouble, I thought as I got into the passenger seat of his Cadillac. Huge trouble. I was scared, but at the same time there was a little bit of wetness in my panties.
But I wasn't turned on though.Was I? DeAndre came ten minutes later, like he promised. I could tell he was fuming.
He set the papers, which was still in scattered order, messy in the manilla folder, on my lap. What was I supposed to do with this? He didn't say anything, which was the key indicator that he was really really mad. I shifted in my seat, trying not to let off how nervous I was. The drive home was short.
He was going extra fast. When we pulled into the parking lot of the condo building, I unbuckled my seat belt and attempted to open the door. But it didn't open. When had he turned on the child safety lock?
He got out, walked around to my side and pulled the door open. He grabbed me by the arm, pulling me out of the car before I could get out myself. I didn't dare protest. The people in this condo complex were the mind-your-own-business type. So even if they did see us, they wouldn't do anything about it.
The walls were sound proof, so nobody heard any of our sex. No matter how loud. The key turned, and he pushed me inside. I set the manilla folder on the counter and turned to him. He had his back to me, locking the door. "My bedroom," He stated.
I hesitated. "Now!" I jumped slightly, but turned and ran into his big bedroom. I was wearing jeans and a tank-top, with a white, short sleeved button up blouse. I stood by the window. In a second, DeAndre was in the doorway. Almost frantic, I looked around the room. The only escape was the doorway which my 6'3" boss was standing in. "DeAndre." My voice came out quieter, weaker then I expected. "Shut up." He stepped in and slammed the door behind him.
"Shirt," He nodded at me, "Off." I didn't hesitate in pulling off my blouse and tank top. He set the chair with no arms so the back of it was up against the end of his bed. He started pulling off his belt. Sex? So fast? I smirked slightly, feeling the nervousness leave me immediately. He smirked back. He grabbed my wrist, sitting down on the chair and yanking me across his lap.
The nervousness returned. He had never used a belt on me. Then again, I'd never seen him this mad at me. The first strike of the belt across my ass startled me. I yelped at the pain, but my reaction didn't seem to phase DeAndre.
He brought the belt across my bottom again, and again. I squirmed, trying to get away from him. He had his left hand on my waist, holding me in position. Whack! Whack! Whack! One hand was on the ground, balanced.
I brought my right hand behind me, trying to cover my whole ass to protect it from DeAndre's belt. He grabbed my wrist, pinning it behind my back and continuing with my punishment. "DeAndre." I whined, "Please." The next whack was harder. "I did not give you permission to speak." "DeAndre.I do not want this!" I said, suddenly angry, "I demand you stop!
Now!" I heard him laugh. "You are in no position to demand anything, sweetheart." His whacks got harder, and quicker. I was trying not to cry, squirming, trying to get away from his next strike. But no matter how much I moved, he continued to whoop me. I wasn't sure how long it went on, but it seemed like forever.
I felt the welts on my ass, him hitting them and making them worse with each strike. I squirmed more. Then.He stopped. "Stand up," He ordered. I sniffled, happy it was over but in a Hell of a lot of pain. He stood up, put the chair back in the corner and stacked two pillows on his side the of the bed.
What was he doing now. With out a word, he walked behind me. He unclasped my bra, pulling it off and tossing it aside. My C cup breasts bounced out freely. I moved my hand to cover them up. "No," DeAndre said, "Hands at your side." I slowly did what he said. He unbuttoned my pants and yanked them down. I stepped out of them when he nodded at me and those too, were discarded.
"Lay across the pillow, ass is in the air." From behind sex? I could deal. I did as I was instructed. But he didn't undress. I dreaded what he was going to do next. My ass was already hot. I could only imagine it's color as red.
He stood beside his bed, running his hand slowly over my ass. "I've been getting sick of your attitude, Brooklyn," He said.
I didn't look up at him to know that he was smirking. I could tell by the sound of his voice. "DeAndre-" "Hush," He ordered, "I haven't given you permission to speak yet." I didn't like his tone.Demeaning. "I've been to easy on you," He continued, "From now, you will be more obedient. Failure to do so will get you a spanking. Not always quite so harsh.But defiantly one you'll feel.
Do you understand?" "Yes," I said. "From now on, you'll answer me "Yes Sir" at work and "Yes, Daddy" at home. Got it?" I gulped. "Yes, Daddy." He raised his hand and brought it down on my already hurting ass. I cried out, not ready for it. He spanked me again, this time on my left cheek. At least he was letting me keep my panties on.
He seemed to know what I was thinking, though. I felt his fingers play with the band of my black panties with pink lace, and he grabbed them. He tugged them down to my knees, then off all the way. I wanted to whine, protest. But I didn't. My punishment would probably just get worse. He started spanking again, right cheek to left cheek.
Slow at first, getting quicker as he went on. I squirmed, whined, trying to get out of his range. Nothing was working. He went on spanking like nothing that I was doing was phasing him. I buried my face in my arms, crying now. "No more." I cried, "Stop!" I covered my ass with both my hands, sitting up slightly, and he stopped. "Lay back down, Brooklyn," He said calmly, "Or I'm going to get my handcuffs." I just wanted to get it over with as soon as I could, so I laid back down.
He started spanking again as soon as my hands were out of the way. Left, right. Up, down. He covered every inch of my ass with harsh smacks, and even a little bit on my upper thighs. I couldn't help but freely cry the whole time. I cried, begged him to stop. He only told me that I had brought this on myself.
It was my fault, not his.
He spanked and spanked. DeAndre stopped, caressing my ass.
"Have you learned your lesson?" "Yes," I whined. He spanked again, only once. But really hard. "Have you learned your lesson?" He repeated. I remember what he'd told me. "Yes, Daddy." "You can get up." I moved so I was a position on my knees on my bed, and turned to him, but naked, and wrapped his arms around his neck. I had no idea why I hugged him, but I did. He wrapped his arms around my waist. I found my self kissing his neck. "Can we have sex now?" I asked.
"Not yet," He said, "There's one thing you have to do." I started typing that report, but naked and freshly spanked.