Jessica's Change Management Ch. 04

"You're here to teach your office pet a lesson about sticking to your rules, Sir Da-Rod." I meekly said. "I'm sorry for disappointing you, sir."

The way I responded made me nauseous. I acted in a totally submissive way. Why did I offer so little resistance? Was it really just the fear for my career? Why didn't I show some backbone? I got angry with myself but kept up my submissive demeanor anyhow. D-Rod nodded and started to explain what he had planned for me.

"OK, here's your task for the day. In 15 minutes, you'll bring me a cup of coffee, Miss Ho-Worker. Along with the coffee, you'll hand me a note with a number on it. The number will tell me how many bitchslaps you'll give yourself when I come back to your office. Geddit, office pet?"

Each and every word droned in my ears. The churning in my stomach increased a hundredfold. I hadn't thought about that at all. Slaps to the face? That was the worst kind of disgrace for me. I could scarcely imagine anything that could demonstrate D-Rod's power more clearly than me slapping myself in the face on his command. I looked him in the eyes but felt the final remnants of my self-confidence crumbling. My intern smiled when he saw me trembling.

"You better choose a number that convincingly says 'I'm sorry, sir!' Or else, you'll get another punishment, you dirty office tramp." He added sternly.

Staring a hole into the ground, I didn't say a word. I felt the urgent need to object but didn't do it. I didn't beg for him to rethink the whole thing either. It wouldn't have been any good anyways.

I knew that my silence was as much an admission of guilt as an acceptance of the punishment. Still, I had enough self-respect left not to plead for mercy. I wouldn't grovel to this dirty macho!

The way D-Rod laid out his perfidious plan in full depth, didn't miss the point. I knew what I had to do. I knew what was expected of me. I knew what was about to happen. The anticipation of this mean, vile plan increased my nervousness beyond imagination.

"Any questions left, Miss Ho-Worker?" D-Rod addressed me harshly, any kind of conceit gone from his voice.

After a long silence, I shook my head. I didn't want to say anything, but I knew what he expected of me.

"No, Sir Da-Rod." I finally replied, my voice sounding firmer than feared. "I'll do as you say, sir."

I had barely uttered my surrender when he was gone. I felt the urgent need to run away, but something detained me like an invisible pair of handcuffs. By now, I knew what it was -- the power he exerted over me. The self-assured way, he dominated me. The self-assured way, he took my submission for granted. The self-assured way, he ordered me to slap myself in the face without batting an eyelash. Once again, I was strangely fascinated by the arrogance and self-confidence with which this young intern treated an older, mature business executive.

I had 15 minutes to seal my fate, but I couldn't think straight. The thought of the pics from my backyard romp send a cold shiver down my spine. It was time to pay for deleting D-Rod's photos, I bitterly thought to myself.

I took several deep breaths to calm myself but it didn't really help. I was in complete turmoil. Time was running out on me, though. I had to come up with an appropriate number for my punishment. How much could I offer? How much did I have to offer? I didn't have a clue. It felt so degrading to think about the number of slaps I had to give myself. It felt so degrading to have an active share in my own punishment. That was exactly what D-Rod was aiming for, I sarcastically thought to myself.

What would I expect as an exec from one of my subordinates? I would expect a number showing me that my subordinate was rendered completely helpless and without a will on his own.

But what kind of number would that be? I had no idea. A slap in the face was far worse than a blow to the butt. I couldn't imagine being able to survive more than five. Five didn't sound like a convincing number, though. It didn't sound like I was taking it seriously. What about 10? It had to be in double figures to carry conviction, right? Could I take 10 slaps? Could I bring myself to slap my own face 10 times?

I shivered at the thought. Nonetheless, I took a piece of paper and wrote a big bold 10 on it. Then I folded the paper and stood up. I made my way downstairs with wobbling knees. I walked into the office kitchen at the end of the floor and made two coffees.

With a cup of coffee in each hand, I walked into the interns' office which was directly opposite the kitchen, hoping that all the other interns were out running some errands. It would be so disgraceful to have anyone seeing me serve a young intern a coffee like some kind of serving girl. I was the second highest executive in the office after all!

I wasn't lucky, though. There were six cubicle workstations facing each other in the interns' office. Each cubicle was separated by a shoulder-high partition blocking direct looks at the computer screens. Unfortunately, three workstations were occupied. Justin, wearing a white polo shirt with popped collar, and Matt, the frat boy wearing a black shirt with the upper two buttons open, were sitting on the left side of the room while D-Rod was sitting in the far right corner.

I had to pass Justin and Matt to reach D-Rod. Of course, their interest got peeked by my presence. D-Rod, by contrast, didn't mind me at all. It vexed me, but I knew that it was part of his power game. The interns' attentive gazes further increased my nervousness and made my hands tremble. Some coffee slopped over when I placed the cup on D-Rod's desk. The young Latino saw it and finally looked at me.

"Bring me a new cup!" He told me cynically.

My head turned beet red. He had kept his voice low, but I couldn't tell if the other interns had heard it or not! Anyways, they must have noticed the dominant way he acted towards his superior! I was so embarrassed I felt the urge to protest. But my mind cautioned me not to object. This was his game, these were his rules. He wanted to humiliate me, and it would only get worse if I revolted.

I took the cup and walked back to the office kitchen to get a new one. On my way, I tried my best not to look at Justin and Matt. I couldn't bear their gazes. This time, I placed the cup on D-Rod's desk without a problem.

"There you go!" He commented wryly in a low voice.

I took the folded piece of paper and put it next to the cup. Standing next to his workstation, I watched my intern taking his time to unfold the note and read it. Sensing Justin and Matt's gazes on my butt, the urge to run out of the interns' office came over me. I felt shame burning on my cheeks. However, I remained standing until D-Rod nodded. Silently, I turned around and walked out. I was so embarrassed I wanted to rush out of the office. I had to force myself to keep a slow pace to not stir even more attention. All the way, I kept my gaze on the ground as I couldn't bring myself to look Justin and Matt in the eye.

I was breathing heavily when I sat back in front of my desk. It was about to happen any moment. I couldn't focus on anything else but the impending punishment. D-Rod wasn't coming to my office straightaway, though. Every time, I heard steps outside of my office, I flinched. But it was never D-Rod. Time and again, I looked at the door. I yearned for it to open. I wanted to get it over with. The wait for the inevitable was almost as bad as the execution. My intern let me stew in my anticipation until an hour before quitting time.

Finally, the door opened and D-Rod stepped into my office. I was almost relieved that he was there and we could start. Silly, right? But the wait had been driving me mad.

"Ortega 'n O'Bannon left the office to attend some external meetings." D-Rod informed me.

Apparently, he had been waiting for them to leave. At least, he wasn't keen on anyone walking in on us. Theoretically, someone could step into my office any moment, witnessing the impending, inappropriate scene. With Ortega and O'Bannon out, this was unlikely, though, as there was no one else on the floor. As a precaution, I had posted a private meeting for the next hour in our online-calendar so none of my subordinates would disturb us. Still, I jumped up from my chair and locked the door.

D-Rod simply waited for me to sit back at my desk while holding the piece of paper in his hand. His shit eating grin instantly turned my thoughts back to the bitchslaps awaiting me. It was the pure humiliation. We both knew it, and D-Rod staged it accordingly.

"What's about to happen now, lil office pet?" My intern asked.

He wanted me to say it myself! He wanted to revel in my humiliation!

"Please Sir Da-Rod, let me slap my face 10 times." I feebly replied.

Out of a sudden, the young Latino leaned over my desk and grabbed my chin. He pulled me up into a standing position and made me lean over the table top until my face was close to his.

"You know, Mrs. Powers, that sounds kinda half-assed." He growled in my face. "In your meetings, you talk like the powerful business exec nonstop. So tell me all about you being my office pet. Convince me, you dirty office tramp!"

I gulped. I had been too fixated on the slaps awaiting me. My intern wanted to fully humiliate me first, though. He wanted to see the business executive groveling in front of him. He wanted to savor his triumph to the fullest. My nerves were raw. I simply wanted it to be over. Still, I had a hard time granting him this degrading foreplay.

"I'm here to learn a lesson about obeying your rules, Sir Da-Rod." I meekly said. "Please sir, let me slap my face 10 times for you. Please let me make my cheeks burn and remind me of my place."

If that wasn't enough, I didn't know what else to say. I had degraded myself more than ever making my face burn in shame. Maintaining my position bent over the desk, I waited for D-Rod's reaction. He didn't say a word, raising his hand and putting it on my right cheek instead. His touch made me tremble and close my eyes, but I didn't turn my face away. Almost tenderly, he stroked my right cheek. He did that for quite some time, savoring his power over me.

"Open your eyes 'n look at me while slapping yourself, you cheap office bitch." He snarled when he let my cheek go. "Count each slap!"

I opened my eyes and stared right into his cold, dark eyes. I had a hard time keeping his gaze up, feeling the submissive need to look to the ground. The time had come. It was happening.

My whole body was trembling when I raised my right hand. I still couldn't grasp the fact that I was really slapping myself for this arrogant prick's amusement. It was so much worse than getting directly slapped by him. It felt so much more like an admission of my surrender.

The slap landed on my right cheek, and I felt a slight sting. I had really done it! The respected business executive was standing bent over her desk slapping her face. I felt so pathetic in my suit skirt. Usually, it was a sign of my authority, but it had turned into a travesty by now.

So this is how it feels. It hadn't made me scream, I hadn't closed my eyes. The smack had barely been audible. I hadn't slapped myself really hard. I just hadn't been able to do it to myself.

"One! Thank you, sir!" I said with a firm voice.

I saw a slight hint of disappointment in D-Rod's eyes. I hadn't slapped myself hard enough for his taste. It hadn't convinced him. I had to try harder, or else, another punishment was awaiting me. And I definitely didn't want that to happen. This one was bad enough.

I raised my hand again and hit the same cheek for a second time. This time, my cheek started burning a bit.

"Two! Thank you, sir!" I groaned.

The expression in D-Rod's eyes remained underwhelmed. It still hadn't been hard enough. I had to go the extra mile to convince him. I had to really punish myself.

I dished out the third and fourth slap in rapid order, smacking my left cheek. A clapping noise filled the office as a humiliating sign of my self-degradation. My left cheek started burning while I tried to regain my stance and continued the counting of the slaps.

D-Rod finally seemed content with the strength of my slaps. It stung and burned but wasn't too harsh. The humiliation of the act was far worse than the pain itself.

I picked up a rhythm of rapidly slapping my right and left cheek two times each before taking a break. Each slap made me grunt through gritted teeth. Standing bent over my desk, I panted heavily with my face hot like fire. I knew that my cheeks must have been burning in glaring, red shades.

"Nine! Thank you, sirrr!" I grunted when I had applied the ninth slap to my right cheek.

"Ten! Thank yooouuu, sirrr!" I almost screamed out the number for the final slap to my left cheek.

By now, the smacks were so loud that I was certain they were audible in the hallway. I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming and tears ran down each red-hot cheek. When I was done, I straightened up and D-Rod caressed my cheeks, letting me feel how hot they were glowing and how sensitive they had become.

"So, Mrs. Powers, you think the number 'n strength of slaps was convincing?" He inquired.

My cheeks hurt, and I felt exhaustion spreading over me. I was resigned to my fate. I had seen the underwhelmed expression in his eyes, though, and it gave me a weird pinch of hurt pride. As I said before I was a very consequent person and usually followed up my words with action. I felt like I had failed to walk the talk in this case and knew that D-Rod would dish out another punishment if he wasn't satisfied with this one.

The urge to do some damage control gripped me. But was it really damage control or the feeling of submissiveness? I couldn't tell. Without thinking about it, I blurted out a suggestion that surprised me the most.

"Please, Sir Da-Rod, show me how to properly punish a naughty office pet! Give me 10 bitchslaps to teach me how it's done!"

The moment I had uttered this unbelievable suggestion, I winced. Had I really said this? What the fuck had come over me? Did I really want this rude thug to use and abuse me? Did I really want to prove to my intern that I was a good, submissive office pet?

The rational part of my mind protested, but the emotional part agreed. No matter how much I loathed the guy, deep inside I knew that his consequent treatment was exactly what I had been looking for during the last week.

"I like your initiative, Miss Ho-Worker!" D-Rod chuckled. "But your face's glowing quite nicely already. Don't wanna go overboard 'n hurt my pet. Gonna make your ass glow just as much instead."

My stomach was all tied up in knots upon hearing this. What had I gotten myself into? I felt like such a dullard. I had unnecessarily given my intern new ideas! That moment, I really felt like a dim-witted office bimbo.

"I think 10's a good number... if I take this ruler." D-Rod didn't give me any time to cop out, grabbing a wooden ruler from my desk and holding it in front of my face.

Then and there, I realized how much I had gotten myself into a jam. 10 blows to my ass with a wooden ruler would really make me suffer. In a weird way, though, I felt like it was the right thing to make me stand up for my actions.

I realize that it sounds strange, but somehow, I was kind of spellbound by the way D-Rod dominated me at my workplace. His authoritative, bossy demeanor was screaming for my obedience.

"Strip off your panties, bent over the desk, and pull your skirt up, Miss Ho-Worker!" D-Rod snapped at me.

His harsh tone made me listen up and sent a cold shiver down my spine. He was more than serious about it, and this was my chance to prove how serious I was about saving my career.

Without hesitation, I stripped off my grey suit jacket and reached under my grey knee-high suit skirt to pull my black panties down my legs. After stripping them off, I stepped up to the desk with the edge pressed against my thighs and bent down until my tits were pressed onto the table top. I felt my grey pencil skirt tightening over the curve of my butt. Pulling the skirt up to my hips, I fully revealed my black stockings and garter belt before gripping the edge of the desk.

I was ready for my punishment, holding out my naked ass for the wooden ruler. D-Rod stepped up to me, obviously inspecting my butt. Once again, I felt him running his hand over the curve of my ass cheeks tenderly.

"What you want me to do, you cheap office bitch?" My intern asked.

He wanted me to further degrade myself for his amusement. His superior was bending over her desk, presenting her naked ass and waiting to get a proper thrashing. Of course, he wanted to savor it to the fullest. I had to increase the humiliation this time. He wanted Mrs. Powers to grovel convincingly.

"I'm Jessica Addams, your superior, and I'm here to prove that I'll be a good, submissive office pet. I bow down to you, Sir Da-Rod, and want you to use me whenever and wherever you want. Please sir, use your office pet in whichever way you see fit."

Woah! I had never intended to submit to this arrogant prick so abjectly. It had come over me involuntarily. What a complete surrender! What an embarrassment! Obviously, though, it had worked and convinced D-Rod.

"Open your mouth!" He ordered while leaning forward.

When I obeyed, he roughly stuffed my black panties into my mouth. Then he held the wooden ruler in front of my face to let me see the instrument of my punishment. That moment, I would have given anything to beg for him to stop. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. After offering my ass for a good smacking in a whiff of submissiveness, I had to follow through on it.

The ruler whistled through the air followed by a loud, crashing noise. I felt a dreadful stinging. I couldn't help it, I had to scream. The panties up my mouth muffled the noise, though, only allowing a low grunt. The blow was terribly painful, and I couldn't hold my butt still. I forcefully gripped the edge of the desk while my ass jerked around wildly.

D-Rod waited until I had calmed down and stopped moving before he landed another stinging stroke to my butt. Once again, my ass performed a mad dance while I held onto the desk for dear life. I felt the ruler's imprint burning and throbbing painfully on each ass cheek.

My intern started dealing out a loud, resounding blow to each buttock and waited for me to stop jerking around. He waited until the pain had slightly subsided, so I could fully concentrate on the next stroke. Each spank burned into my skin, blazing on my buns like the fires of hell. Tears ran freely from my eyes. I couldn't help but cry unrestrainedly. I was glad for the panties stuffed up my mouth. Without it, my screams would have been heard on the hallway outside my office. It was only 10 spanks but each one got burned into my mind forever. When D-Rod was done, my ass felt like a big, raw wound.

"So?" He asked after pulling me up on my chestnut hair while taking the panties from my mouth. "What you gotta say, Mrs. Powers?"

I had to clutch the edge of the desk while I looked at my intern with tear-stained eyes.

"Thank you, Sir Da-Rod!" I groaned. "I hope now you know that I'm ready to serve you as your personal office pet."

"And if I wanna give you 10 more strokes with the ruler?" The Latino inquired.

I looked at him stupefied with horror. I knew that he was testing me. It wasn't really a question. There was only a single correct answer. I bent down over the desk and raised my skirt back up, presenting my burning, red-striped ass for another thrashing.

"Hehehe!" D-Rod chuckled in delight. "That's a good reaction there, Miss Ho-Worker. That ass is glowing bright enough, though. Time to get me off!"

He pushed the panties back into my mouth and stepped behind me. A few seconds later, I felt him slapping his hard cock against my burning ass cheeks. Each slap made me wince from the sting.