Working 9 to 5

Miss Bernly had her thighs tightly clasped in an effort to protect her modesty, but it was not a particularly successful effort. As the deep crack of her sweet derriere ended, it was picked up again by the even more delicate crack of her delicious womanhood: a lovely mound of soft white flesh, bulging out between her thighs, cut by a feminine slit of enticing delight. Mr. Hart rolled the panties up just below her cunt, providing a nice foundation for the luscious display. A woman's bottom looked all the more desirable when it was framed by her dropped panties.

"I must say, Miss Hart, that you clearly take very good care of your body. You must exercise a great deal."

"Well, I do try to take care of myself."

"I am very impressed." He ran his fingers along the soft, smooth slope of her buttocks. "A woman who takes such good care of her bottom will surely be a reliable, conscientious employee."

"Well, thank you sir. I really do intend to work hard."

"If you work half as hard at work as you work on your figure, I'm sure things will work out very well."

That was a bit hard for Miss Bernly to follow, but it was really good to hear that Mr. Hart's faith in her as a reliable, conscientious employee was improving. "Thank you, Mr. Hart, I really do want to be a good secretary."

"I mean it, Miss Bernly. You have an excellent figure. Your thin waist is very impressive. What in fact are your measurements?"

Miss Bernly was quite uncomfortable about telling Mr. Hart her measurements. She was certainly not asked such a question on her application form, and would have been very surprised to see such a personal question. But, privacy with respect to such information did seem a bit moot at this point, given that she was bent over with her naked bottom poking up in the air. "Um, 32B_24_32, sir."

"Well, that's a lovely figure, Miss Bernly."

"Uh, thank you again, sir."

"Don't thank me, Miss Bernly, thank your dedication and hard work." He drew his finger down the crack of her bottom. Miss Bernly's bottom squirmed a bit at the touch. "Your boobies are a bit small, though, aren't they, Judy."

This was the first time he called her Judy. That was a bit personal. She had been told that all employees, particularly when communicating with persons above or below lines of authority, should speak more formally. She certainly wouldn't use Mr. Hart's first name when she spoke to him. In fact, she just realized that she wasn't really certain what his first name was. "Um, yes sir, they aren't large, but they're, um, well." Mr. Hart finished the sentence for her.

"They're quite firm and perky, aren't they."

Miss Bernly blushed. She responded quite quietly, "Yes sir."

"Well, of course, we really shouldn't discuss that any further." He patted her on the bottom in a fatherly gesture of reassurance, enjoying the feel of her soft, pliant skin and the jiggling of her cheeks. "The prettiness of your titties is really not any of my business. I do apologize if I offended you in any way."

Miss Bernly was relieved that he wasn't going to pursue that line of conversation any further. It had crossed her mind that he might even ask to see them. She looked back to express her appreciation. "Thank you sir, no, it was okay."

Mr. Hart rested his hand along her firm, soft, white buttocks. His single hand covered most of both of her cheeks. They felt so nice to his touch: so sweet, so soft, so curved. "I'm not so sure that you aren't just being diplomatic with your boss, Miss Bernly, but I do appreciate it. Now, let's say we continue with the discipline?"

Miss Bernly looked a bit crestfallen, but acquiesced. "Yes sir, whatever you say, sir." She turned away to face the window and once again gripped hard on the edge of the desk.

True to his word, though, the rest of the paddling was really more like an affectionate patting than a disciplinary walloping. Miss Bernly's bottom slowly took on a pinkish hue, but the spanking was hardly a stinging experience. It was frankly just a playful spanking, interrupted with an occasional smack, just to keep her honest, but it seemed like Mr. Hart was using the time to fondle, explore, and play with her soft white moon rather than to inflict any actual pain. At times Mr. Bernly paused in his patting to explore whether her bottom was getting unduly stung and to sooth whatever stinging she might be experiencing. It wasn't at all necessary though. Her bottom was at best developing just a warm pinkish glow than a stinging red radiance.

Miss Bernly was relieved that it didn't really hurt. She was glad that she chose to have him do it with her panties down. She felt a little uncomfortable with how his hand seemed to linger, explore, and even caress her bottom. But, she also had to admit that it was soothing and comforting to have him rub away the occasional sting.

"You have such a pretty little derriere, Miss Bernly," he would say, as his hand softly graced across the smooth, reddening curves. "I certainly wouldn't want to unduly harm such delicate skin."

"Thank you, sir," she responded softly. Her eyes were now half closed with the feel of his large hand caressing across her fanny.

"It's really true that your husband never spanked you?"

Miss Bernly's eyes opened up again with this question, which seemed quite unusual to her. Why would a husband spank his wife? Why would a wife submit to such a thing? "Um, no sir?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for punishment. Of course, a husband would not, should not, punish his wife in such a manner. I just meant in a playful sort of way."

That seemed even more odd to her than the first suggestion. "Gosh, no sir, we never did anything like that."

"Really? Well, I am surprised. I would imagine any man would enjoy spanking a pretty little fanny like this." He grasped both cheeks in his hand and pulled up her bottom, giving them an even higher lift and prominent display. The cheeks opened up, revealing her little brown star. She had the cutest little rosebud. He wished there was some valid reason to explore her anally. Her cunt was also now quite openly displayed, which was perhaps a more appropriate consideration.

"Um, yes sir."

"How long were the two of you married?" he asked, his hand now openly caressing her soft pink moon.

"Twelve years, sir." "Goodness, that is a long time. The divorce must have been quite difficult for you."

"Yes sir, at first."

"Any children?"

"No sir." She jumped a bit as his finger again traced down the center of her crack. He didn't push it in, thank goodness for that, but no man had felt her there since she was divorced. In fact, not a few years even before the divorce.

"When was the last time the two of you had any sex?"

Miss Bernly could feel her heart once again racing. She wasn't sure if it was from the nature of their conversation or the nature of his hand exploring her naked fanny. "Mr. Hart, I don't think I can talk to you about that."

"Really Miss Bernly? I'm so sorry. I always tell my girls that if there is anything on their minds, anything they need to talk about, no matter how personal, they should feel free to come see me. That's why I have my office right on the seventh floor with the secretarial pool. I could be up three floors higher, but I want to be close to my girls, emotionally and physically." To emphasize his point, he squeezed the flesh of her soft bottom. "The door to my office is always open."

Miss Bernly turned to her right to look back. She knew that the door was closed. She had locked it herself, but with his remark she had felt a strong need to double check. "Uh, that's awfully good of you, sir." Mr. Hart was now caressing, tickling, her bottom with just the tips of his fingers, occasionally using his fingernails to lightly scratch her firm cheeks, leaving little red lines across the pink surface. Miss Bernly closed her eyes, her breathing increasing. She could not deny the fact that she was feeling a bit excited. She hoped he would not notice. That would be terribly embarrassing and inappropriate.

Mr. Hart, though, did notice. "Has it been a long time for you, Miss Bernly?"

Well, he was her boss. If she couldn't confide in him, who could she speak to? "Yes sir, quite a bit of time. I mean, we stopped doing it years before the divorce."

"And no man since then?"

Miss Bernly again covered her face with her hands. "No sir." It was rather embarrassing to admit this.

"You must though be taking care of yourself."

She peeked through her fingers, at nothing in particular, but it was just her way. "Sir?"

As he was speaking Mr. Hart's finger was tracing along the crevice of her bottom. As she said "sir," he continued past the larger valley to the more diminutive crevice of her cunnie.

"Oh!" Miss Bernly chirped.

Mr. Hart spoke softly, trying not to frighten her. "You're really quite moist right now, aren't you, Miss Bernly."

Miss Bernly looked back at him, a confused, scared look on her face. "No sir, no, I don't think so sir."

Mr. Hart gave her a knowing, fatherly smile, like he was catching her in a rather childish attempt to deny the obvious. "Oh yes, Miss Bernly, I believe you are."

Miss Bernly shamefully looked down. She knew he was right. She could feel the moisture herself. "I'm sorry, sir."

Mr. Hart continued to slide his finger up and down her damp slit. He could feel that her soft vaginal lips were quite full and thick. They would provide quite a pleasurable cushion for a hard stiff cock. He used his left hand to squeeze the head of his own.

"Miss Bernly, no need to apologize. Your reaction is really quite normal for a woman deprived so long of the attention she deserves."

"Oh Mr. Hart," Miss Bernly gasped, "Really, I think you should stop touching me there."

"But aren't you enjoying it, Miss Bernly? Perhaps just a little bit?"

Miss Bernly wanted to be honest. You should be honest with your boss, and she certainly didn't want to insult him, particularly if it was a lie. "Well, yes sir, yes, your finger does feel nice," but the admission was so distressing. "Oh my," she said, squeezing her eyes shut, as if that would erase what she had just said.

"Now Miss Bernly, don't feel embarrassed. I like to think that if there is one word that describes my philosophy of business, it's teamwork. Everybody working together."

"Oh, sir, yes sir." She wanted to pay attention to what he was saying. It sounded like it might be important, his philosophy of business, but the feel of his fingers, now plying, squeezing, fondling, even pinching the lips of her cunnie was so distracting.

"I don't share the views of some of my colleagues. Ladies need not have played football, basketball, or even baseball, to learn what teamwork is all about. I just know that if you keep the crew happy, the ship sails smoothly, and then you can't go off course."

"Yes sir," Miss Bernly groaned, with passion, not with displeasure.

"Now let's get the team on the field, Miss Bernly," Mr. Hart said, as he unzipped his slacks and extracted his hard, stiff, erect cock. It was indeed fully, happily engorged.

"Raise up those sweet apple cheeks of yours, Miss Bernly, even just a bit higher so I can center myself up and hand this ball off."

"Yes sir," Miss Bernly again replied. She knew what he was going to do. She had heard the sound of the zipper, but whatever reluctance, ambivalence, she had once felt was thoroughly swamped by an intense sexual arousal, a desire, no need, to feel once again a man's hard penis up inside her, and, besides, doing something like this would have to be very good for her employment, for her career. There really did not appear, at this moment, to be any downside. She arched her back further and even got up on her tippy toes, providing Mr. Hart with ample room to slide his cock up into her receptive, warm, actually quite hot, wet cunt.

Mr. Hart got in tight between her legs. The smell of her wet, hot, aroused sex now rose up to his nostrils, washing out the scent of her perfume. He first placed the head of his cock against the soft, full lips of her cunt. He had intended to shove right in, but the feel of those loose lips lapping against the smooth head of his dick was too enjoyable not to savor. He delayed entering her to slide his cock up and down and in between the cushiony folds and pendant flaps of her womanly vagina. Miss Bernly whimpered with pleasure.

Mr. Hart then pushed in a bit, just to get the cock precisely placed. He gripped Miss Bernly's tight buttocks with his hands, to hold them in place, and shoved with his hips to push his cock up inside.

Miss Bernly grunted and gasped, but Mr. Hart could not get in far. She was really quite tight. "My goodness, Miss Hart, it has been quite awhile, hasn't it."

"Yes sir," she whispered. "Please be patient, sir. Don't push too hard."

Mr. Hart made very slow and brief strokes, moving in less than inch, pulling back, and then just a bit more, and pulling back; each time getting in a bit farther but never forcing it. With each effort his cock slowly went in deeper, deeper, and deeper, gradually becoming absorbed by her tight, hot, wetness.

Miss Bernly once again covered her face with her hands. "Oh my, oh my goodness, " she moaned, as she felt the hard, stiff cock of Mr. Hart slowly work its way up into her cunt.

Mr. Hart felt a release of resistance and his cock slid in deep, almost all the way up to the hilt. She felt so good. Her soft, hot, wet cunt now fully engulfing every inch of his cock . It was like every nerve at every point along the head and shaft were being clutched and grasped all at the same time, fully wrapped and tightly enclosed by the soft wetness of the insides of her cunt.

"Mr. Hart," Miss Bernly gasped.

Mr. Hart provided smooth, steady strokes of his cock, drawing it slowly in and out of her cunt, never fully leaving, but always pushing up deep, deeper, inside.

A part of Miss Bernly still felt a little embarrassed. It didn't help that they were doing it this way, bent over his desk, her butt submissively upraised. She would surely feel terrible if anyone from the secretarial pool would see her now. But, still, he felt so good up there. It had been so very long since a man had thrust himself like this up inside her. Even this was embarrassing to admit, to admit to Mr. Hart; but, it was true, she liked it. She liked it very, very much.

"You're so big, you feel so big in me." She was not just saying that because he was her boss. "Oh, Mr. Hart," she whimpered, "You really are so much bigger than Jimmy." Jimmy had been her husband, and Miss Hart was quite surprised at how much bigger Mr. Hart felt inside her. She had an impulse to push him away so that she could see how big he really was. Frankly, she had assumed that her husband would be bigger than Mr. Hart. After all, he was a tough, big, working class guy, and Mr. Hart was more like the non-athletic white collar managerial sort. Maybe it was just because it had been so long, or maybe because she would imagine her boss to be big. He was certainly big in the company; my goodness, he was Vice President, or at least one of them. Whatever the reason, he did really fill quite large. She felt like she was being stuffed. She gripped hard on the edge of the desk to receive his thrusts. She began to push back with her own hips, pressing her butt down on his cock as he pushed his cock up inside.

Mr. Hart let go of her butt, bent over her body, and reached underneath to press the fingers of his right hand against the lips of her cunt and her hard, stiff clit.

"Mr. Hart, that's so good, that feels so nice." She moaned with each breath as Mr. Hart drove into her cunt with his cock and massaged, kneaded, her clit with his fingers.

He began to truly fuck Miss Bernly, pounding into her cunt, her own body jerking and twitching with his thrusts as she tried to maintain her position, to keep her bottom up, her cunt available, for his bestial fucking. The stack of colored paper began to spill and spread out over the desk, disrupted by both of their now frantic, grinding gyrations.

"Fuck me, Mr. Hart, please, do it, fuck me," she whispered, as she felt the waves of her orgasm begin to overwhelm her, sweep her away in a blissful feeling of relief and passion. She had never said anything like that before, and certainly not with her husband, but now she felt so wanton, so bestial, being taken like this over her boss's desk, her butt raised up like a compliant, submissive doe, a member of the secretarial pool being serviced by Mr. Hart, their alpha male. She continued to whisper, "Fuck me, fuck me, sir," as her body twitched and spasmed in a paroxysm of pleasure, her orgasm sweeping her away.

Mr. Hart hadn't expected such language from the demure Miss Hart, and it put him over the edge. "I'm going to cum, Miss Bernly."

Miss Bernly awoke from her reverie and gasped loudly in fright, "Not inside!"

She need not have worried. As Mr. Hart felt his own climax on the verge of exploding he quickly pulled out, grasped his cock in his hand, braced himself on the desk with his other hand, and released his load onto the prim little bottom of Miss Hart, squirting wads of white sticky gobs of cum onto those sweet, firm rose cheeks. It made a very pretty sight: splashes and lines of white gism lying across the pink, smooth curves.

Miss Bernly didn't even mind. She had never let her husband cum on her, despite his repeated requests. It had always seemed like such a filthy thing to do, like he was soiling or relieving himself on her. But, in her rapturous state of mind the wet cum was a welcome dousing, in fact even a soothing balm on her warm, paddled rump. And, besides, she felt it was only right that she receive the cum of her alpha male in the manner he preferred.

When he was done, Mr. Hart squeezed out the remaining drops into the cleft of her crack, and then worked the gobs, splashes, and streaks into her skin, leaving her with a smooth, shining, glistening pink moon. "Maybe this will help your little rosy bottom feel better," he suggested.

Miss Hart turned her face to him. She smiled back at him. "Thank you, Mr. Hart. That's very considerate of you."

He affectionately patted her wet bottom, "Anything for my girls, Miss Bernly," he said, somewhat breathlessly now himself. He then pulled her panties back up over her fanny.

Miss Hart smiled as he struggled a bit, pulling and tugging on them to get them into their proper place. This was at least one thing her boss had difficulty doing. She considered helping him, but it looked like he was enjoying the struggle and, besides, he was kind of cute doing it.

When he was finished he stepped back to get his cock into his slacks. "Well, Miss Hart. I hope this was a lesson for you, and that we will not have any further difficulty with the copying machine."

Miss Bernly now had a very good understanding of the correct strategy to improve her position within the company. She had indeed learned her lesson very well. She stood back up, pulled her slip and skirt back down, wiggling her bottom as she worked to smooth out the material and straighten the hem. "Oh yes sir, I think this was really very helpful."

"Excellent, Miss Bernly, I think that you will in fact become a very fine member of the secretarial pool."

Mr. Bernly smiled at him and said, "Oh, I do hope so sir. I am really very happy to be working here."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The next day Mr. Hart had a special assignment in mind for Doralee. He wasn't entirely sure he should do this, but as she repeatedly visited him throughout the day, wearing a tight skirt that so nicely complimented her narrow waist and, even more striking, a tight pink, fleece sweater that just screamed for someone to grasp those humongous breasts that just kept bobbling and jumping as she walked in and out of his office; well, he decided to go through with it.