The Secretary

Once she was up Mr. Spader got up from his desk and made his way to the door. "Mr. Spader?" He was leaving?! Her hands went back to her bottom, this time to give her cheeks a little rub. They didn't really sting bad, but she did feel that they needed some consideration.

Mr. Spader turned back to her. He pulled a letter from his jacket pocket. "I need to deliver this to Ellsberg. I won't be gone too long. You stay right there...precisely as you are...until I get back."

"Um, yes sir, of course, sir, but..."

"Yes, but what, Miss Gyllenhall?"

"But, well, sir, I mean..." She pointed down to his crotch, where his very evident erection was jutting out his slacks. "You have a bit, of, well...condition, sir."

He didn't say anything.

"If you don't mind my, um, pointing it out. I was just, well, I wasn't sure you would want anyone to, well, notice it." Perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned it. It was rather personal. But, it is often the secretary that alerts the executive to a spot on a tie, a loose thread on a suit, and perhaps even a zipper that was down. Should she ignore an erect penis sticking out his slacks?

"You think I should be ashamed of myself?"

"Oh no, no sir. No, not at all."

"Are you ashamed of yourself, Miss Gyllenhall?"

"Um, well, uh, well, no sir, of course...not." She was pretty darned embarrassed, but not really ashamed.

"Excellent, well," he said as he again turned toward the door, "I will be back as soon as I can."

"Yes sir," she replied, somewhat mystified by his departure as he made his way out of the room.

He was such a quirky, eccentric guy. She wondered if he had strode around in public with an erection before, not finding it at all unusual or inappropriate. That would, of course, explain a lot, most especially what had been happening so far in this office.

Of course, his erection would likely dissipate before he actually ran into anyone. She was in any case relieved to be alone, and to have so much time now to find the last error. She could in fact make her way to the last page without him noticing that she had missed the error. Yes, he would realize that point if she identified the error on one of the early pages, but the severe pressure she had been feeling was at least lifted. She studied the document with considerably less tension.

She considered getting off the table. That would be more comfortable, but he had made it very clear that she was to stay the way she was.

She looked around the office. It was funny how a room can look so different when standing in an entirely new and unique location. She looked down at his Japanese blue Gosu Kyoto Satsuma pottery vase. The dragons along its lid were really quite striking. She wished that someday she would have something as beautiful as that. Mr. Spader was indeed an amazingly successful man.

An hour eventually passed, with Maggie continuing to study the document, at times studying the room, all the time feeling so weirdly exposed perched on his desk, worrying that some stranger might enter the office, wondering what might happen when Mr. Spader did eventually return, still unable to find the last error.

Her cunnie was feeling so inflamed. She reached down, just to assess its wetness.

As soon as her fingers made contact with her moist, warm lips Maggie felt a jolt of lustful hunger shoot through her loins. She had not realized how intensely aroused, how excited, she had become. She could not deny it now, nor did she really have to, being alone in the privacy of Mr. Spader's office.

She slowly, gently, slid her fingers up and down her lips, occasionally slipping them a bit inside, feeling around within and along her soft, fleshy wetness, caressing her femininity, feeling herself getting warmer and warmer, hotter and hotter. She softly whimpered, slightly bending her knees, her left hand scrunching up the document as she clutched and squeezed a breast.

She did so much enjoy touching herself. She did not do it often. A good girl doesn't do it often, and even when she did do it, it was, of course, within the privacy of her bedroom, with the lights out. Before today she certainly would not have imagined doing so while standing up on the desk in the office of her boss. But, frankly, that made it all the more appealing, naughty, and exciting. She quietly whimpered and sighed, albeit to anyone in the room it would seem quite loud, as there was otherwise no sounds within the dimly lit, expansive office.

The fingers along her cunt slowly began to work more vigorously, sliding up to her swollen, hardened clit to provoke and torment her nub, seemingly trying to crush it against her own body, rubbing it around and around so hard, so feverishly, so furiously.

"Oh Mr. Spader," Maggie softly moaned, her hips now grinding and twisting in such lewd gyrations high up on his desk as her fingers frenetically labored, imagining her boss making her do all sorts of things, perhaps having to deliver documents in just her brassiere and panties, that would be so terribly humiliating, walking down the street like that, everyone looking at her.

"Mr. Spader, please," she gasped, a finger sliding up her cunt, imagining Mr. Spader spanking her for some malfeasance in front of a judge, or perhaps even a jury, the prosecuting attorney requiring that she lift up her skirt, the judge requiring that she pull her panties down, the jurors suggesting that she suck each of them off, even the women.

"Mr. Spader, no, no, please, it's just not right," she whimpered, as she imagined him mounting her from behind, apparently under strict judicial orders. "Oh my," she gasped as she bent over, shoving now two fingers deep up into her tight, wet, quivering cunt.

"Oh! Madam, um, I'm, um...sorry."

She had not heard the door open.

It was an express mail deliveryman. He stood at the door, wondering what to do, an understandably shocked expression on his face at the sight of a half-naked woman standing on Mr. Spader's desk, bent over, frantically fingering her sloppy hot wet cunt, lost in some perverse fantasy.

"Excuse me!" Maggie angrily protested, bending over even further, covering her cunt with her hands, trying to regain her composure, her wits, her flushed face though still displaying the effects of her pitched lustful state.

"Oh yes, yes, sorry, really, but um, well, uh, I'm supposed to...deliver this?" He held up an express mail envelope.

"Well, my goodness," she asserted with evident annoyance, as well as embarrassment, "just leave it on the desk...The one outside." She would gesture in the correct direction, back where he came from, but she preferred not to remove even one of her hands.

"Yeah, well, but, um, someone has to sign for this, and I was told that, well, I couldn't leave until it was delivered, and signed." He again held it up.

Maggie recalled that Mr. Spader had made it very, very clear that she was to stay precisely as she was: precisely. Currently, she was most definitely not doing that.

With considerable distress and dismay she stood back up straight, and removed her hands, exposing to the stranger's eyes her inflamed cunt, holding onto the document with her left hand as she reached out with her right. "Give it to me," she said, with all the authority she could muster, in her state of undress, exposure, and agitation, "and I will sign it."

"Uh, yeah...right, ma'am." The deliveryman slowly strode up to the pretty young lady, presumably Mr. Spader's new secretary. He swallowed with some apprehension and unease, trying so hard not to look at her naked cunt. His stride was unsteady, uncertain. There is simply no way a guy is going to simply ignore such a thing entirely. She did have awfully nice legs, naturally drawing his eyes up to a very, very alluring set of feminine lips. Delivery men dream about moments like this, but he had never experienced it, and he most definitely had not expected it to happen.

He handed the envelope and clipboard to the woman, his eyes quickly going to her cunt, which was largely at eye level, as her eyes presumably were fixed on the clipboard. "Right there," he pointed, sort of in the general direction of where she was to sign.

Maggie sighed with exasperation, and mortification. She could see where he was looking. She could tell him to stop being so rude and impertinent but she realized that Mr. Spader would not approve. She wondered though if Mr. Spader might in fact have sent him in as a test of her dedication, her resolve, her obedience. But, of course, he couldn't have done that, as the letter was sent by someone else, the previous day.

She looked at the envelope more closely. It had been sent by Mr. Spader, the previous day. She was glad that she had agreed to sign for it, as he would have clearly discovered that she hadn't. She handed the clipboard back to the deliveryman, wondering if Mr. Spader normally gave delivery men a tip. Her money though was in her purse, in her own desk.

Sucking his cock would be a pretty good tip, and then her face flushed at having such a thought, clearly driven by her masturbatory lust. And, most certainly Mr. Spader wouldn't approve of that! That would be so unbecoming of one of his secretaries. Imagine if such a thing became known. His reputation would be forever damaged, perhaps fatally.

The man ripped off a receipt for Maggie, a little smile creasing his lips as he handed it to her.

She gave a little polite smile in return, even a little naked curtsy. It was never a good idea to be curt to delivery personnel. They could always in the future seek revenge in a way that would more than offset whatever satisfaction one gleaned from expressing one's true feelings. Of course, he might right now just take her, pressing his face into her steamy cunt. He must smell how excited she was. If he took her, by force, she could claim that she had nothing to do with it. Mr. Spader could not blame her for that. She spread her thighs a bit and pushed her cunt out somewhat, trying to give him a hint, that perhaps she was in fact offering it to him, as if having her cunt naked, hot, wet, and inflamed just inches from his eyes was not itself much of a hint.

The man looked for an excuse to linger, but there really wasn't any. He considered just grabbing her butt and crushing his face into her cunt, but assaulting a secretary while on the job was never a good idea. The fact that she was half naked would be no defense, not when she was the secretary to a lawyer like Mr. James Spader. He though did take his first steps backward on the way out, his eyes lingering and then, with considerable reluctance, he turned and walked off. As he was about to make his exit he turned back to say, "Nice office."

"Yes," Maggie replied from the desk, her cunt remaining fully exposed, and neglected. "Mr. Spader knows how to decorate an office."

"Yes, yes he certainly does," he agreed, and then departed.

Maggie sighed with frustration, and yet also with relief, at his departure.

At this point she really didn't know at all what she wanted. It was probably best that the man hadn't taken her bait. Goodness, imagine if Mr. Spader returned while he was eating her out! Simply because she enjoyed imagining something didn't mean she wanted it to happen in real life. When was Mr. Spader going to return! He would not be sending in other visitors, would he? Goodness, imagine a whole series of guests...

Her cunt was so heated, so inflamed. She looked down at it.

"Oh no," she exclaimed. The moisture was so clearly evident. There was no way that Mr. Spader would miss it. Perhaps she should clean herself up, dry herself off. But, to do so would require getting off the desk, or at least crouching down to retrieve her panties. She could use them. However, what if he caught her doing that? He had made it very, very clear that she was not to change her position. Plus, even if she got away with it she would know what she had done. She would know that she had cheated, that she had defied his instruction. She would feel compelled to confess, perhaps resulting in an even worse punishment.

She waited, in position, standing there. She returned to the document. She still had not found the third error.

And then, the door finally opened. Mr. Spader had returned.

He closed the door behind him, making it clear to Maggie that the door was not being locked.

Maggie noticed as well that he no longer had an erection. One wouldn't expect him to, having been gone for so long, but she had to admit that she was a little disappointed. She held out the document. "I'm sorry, sir. The paper is a bit wrinkled."

Mr. Spader clasped his hands in front of him, this time as a gesture for no good reason other than that he found it comfortable to stand that way. "Did you find the last error, Miss Gyllenhall?"

"Oh, um, no sir."

He slowly, calmly approached her. "Do you realize how much time has passed? How much time you've had to find it?"

"Yes sir," she timidly acknowledged.

"How, might I ask, have you been spending your time?"

"Um, well, sir, um...A package arrived for you." She held out the express envelope for Mr. Spader.

He stepped up to her but did not take the envelope from her hand. "Yes, I see that. Did it require the full time of my departure to receive this delivery?"

Maggie slowly shook her head. It was rather striking, she felt, that he didn't even ask about what happened while she met with the deliveryman. She wondered if Mr. Spader met him outside the office.

Mr. Spader again admired how pretty were Miss Gyllenhall's eyes, particularly when she looked so uncertain and insecure. However, he took a deep breath of frustration and disappointment. He eventually said, "You can get down from the desk now, Miss Gyllenhall."

"What? Oh, no sir. I'll find it, sir, I will. I promise."

"I'm not so sure, Miss Gyllenhall. I am beginning to have my doubts. Now, if you would, please." He gestured for her to dismount his desk.

Maggie hesitated. She so wished that he would reconsider. She knew though that he was right. She had been provided with well more than enough time, with much of it wasted on just her daydreaming and ruminating, as well as a bit of dirty business for which she now felt a bit ashamed. She eventually replied, "Yes sir," and got down onto her knees to climb off the desk.

It was perhaps even more difficult getting off, with her panties and skirt now tangled around her ankles.

Mr. Spader though did reach out with his hand to offer his assistance.

Maggie smiled gratefully and placed her hand in his, instantly feeling a rush of excitement coarse through her body at their physical contact. It was not an intimate touch. They were just holding hands, but how often does a girl hold hands with her boss, particularly when her skirt and panties are down at her ankles. She smiled appreciatively, even affectionately, as she said, "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Spader though did not change expression, his eyes fixed on Miss Gyllenhall's bottom as she slid on her knees to the edge of his desk, her feet still ensconced within her heels. He suggested, "Be careful not to let your panties slip off."

"Yes sir," Maggie replied, reaching back to pull them up a bit higher on her calves, and then gingerly slipped off the desk and onto the floor. She felt a bit more comfortable, more safe and secure, with her feet now firmly planted on the floor. She asked, "Where shall I put these, sir?" referring to the envelope and the document.

"Place the envelope on my coffee table, in front of the leather chair, if you would."

"Yes sir," Maggie replied and clumsily made her way over to the table. Heels can be difficult enough to walk in, but when further handicapped by panties and a skirt tangled around one's ankles, it can become a gymnastic exercise worthy of an Olympic event. Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration, but it really was pretty difficult.

Maggie walked with little geisha steps, being careful not to step so high or far that her panties or skirt tangled around a heel. It seemed like it took forever to get to the table, knowing that Mr. Spader's eyes were likely glued to her naked bottom. On the other hand, it was perhaps even worse to think that he wasn't even paying any attention. What does it say about a girl for a guy to actually ignore her nakedness. Perhaps he had returned to his desk chair and was now studying a document, obliviously disinterested in the presence of her naked derriere, which she felt was in fact rather nice, if she said so herself.

She considered looking back to check, but she felt that would be an invasion of his privacy, as if she was checking up on him, which she would clearly be doing.

When she finally arrived at the table she reflected on her options. The most disrespectful and careless thing to do would be to just toss the envelope onto the coffee table. The most ladylike thing to do would be a bunny dip, bending her knees to get down closer to the table to gently lay it on the edge, facing his chair.

She decided instead to bend over from the waist, trying to keep her knees stiff and straight, a position similar to the one he had instructed her to take when spanked by the executive from Bluestar. If he had been watching her bottom he would now be duly rewarded. If he had been ignoring her, well, he was now being duly punished by what he was missing.

Mr. Spader had indeed been watching her and was now being duly rewarded. Maggie's bottom tightened and rounded to full capacity as she bent over for him, opening to his eyes the lasciviously lewd sight of her moist, glistening cunnie slit, and even a peek at her rosy, puckered, and curly butt hole. His cock instantly swelled back to attention, saluting this really glorious pose.

Maggie held it for quite some time as she carefully positioned and arranged the envelope so that it was precisely parallel to the edge of the table, facing his chair, at an even distance from both sides of the other two edges. It could not have been better if she had measured with a ruler.

Mr. Spader squeezed his erection through his Issey Miyake navy blue slacks and mercerized cotton Hanro boxers. When Maggie stood back up he clasped his hands before his crotch, effectively hiding the erection from view.

Maggie gingerly turned around to face him, once again presenting for his eyes her exposed and inflamed cunt, the thick fleshy lips yearning to be kissed, licked, and sucked. She asked, "the document?"

"Return it please," he instructed, "to its original position, here on the desk."

"Yes sir," Maggie replied, and with her skirt and panties still encumbering her movements, she made her way inelegantly, gawkily, back to his desk, the document resting on the palms of both hands, feminine moisture leaking down a thigh.

Time was money, particularly for a lawyer, and certainly at his level of the legal food chain. But, Mr. Spader waited patiently. Some things are worth waiting for.

When Maggie finally arrived she again bent over to carefully place the document in the original position, which was in fact a bit off center, somewhat closer to the left side of the desk than the right.

Mr. Spader was impressed; very impressed, that she had remembered its original off-centered position. She deserved some consideration. "Miss Gyllenhall, if you wish, I will provide you with one last chance to find the error."

"Thank you, sir." Maggie sighed with a deep sense of relief, and a rush of excitement. She placed her hands and elbows on either side of the document, her naked tush and cunt thrusting out behind her, her eyes focusing as hard as she could on the opened page.

Mr. Spader stepped up behind her, right up to her naked butt. He slowly pulled down his zipper.

Maggie stopped reading, her eyes glancing left and right at the tell-tale metallic sound of a zipper going down. Nothing else made that sound. She could feel her heart racing. What was Mr. Spader going to do? She dared not look back or move. Perhaps oddly, but perhaps accurately, she considered him to be a scared mouse: slowly, tentatively, nervously, approaching a hunk of very tasty cheese, but not sure if he could trust her, not sure if there would be some sudden violent reaction that would scare him away.