“How many strokes will I get?”“I'll decide tomorrow,” he said. “Expect it to be substantial. Remember, you're a world-class personal assista...t and I need you.”She smiled and left his office, grateful for the professional compliment. In front of her bedroom mirror, she stripped to her black string panties and smoothed her hands over her bare bottom cheeks. Tomorrow night they'd carry red cane marks advertising her shameful disobedience, not from Miss Roberts, but from Mark, her boss. Clear. . in the rainy season. The last thing I wanted was for him to stop."You're a fucking little shit," I panted, my anger losing to my arousal. "You always do this to me when I'm in a rush. You get me all hot and bothered, knowing full well I haven't got the time to play silly games with you." He looked aghast at my outburst but I wasn't finished. My rant was developing into something spectacular. "It's easy for you, you bastard. When I leave, you can go and bash your fucking bishop to get rid of. More

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