The New Boss

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What happens when the new guy takes over.
4k words
4.44
55.1k
21

Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 10/12/2022
Created 01/06/2010
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cyravance
cyravance
17 Followers

Everyone was sorry Harding was leaving. He had been our office manager since before I started there three years ago, and a kinder, more understanding man one would be scarcely able to imagine. Although our particular unit was never at the top of the list as far as productivity was concerned, we did exceed all others in employee satisfaction. Attendance was exemplary, people who worked here simply did not call out very often. And why should they? We were one happy bunch, people actually looked forward to coming to work.

So, it was with some trepidation that we waited to learn who our new boss would be. Would he, or she, be as easy going, as laid back as Harding? Tough to do, to be sure, but even if his replacement was half as nice, it would be ok.

"So, any of you guys find out who we're getting?" It was Lola, who answered the phones and directed calls. Lola was especially nervous, as she was, well, lets be kind and say she was often a wee bit slow on the uptake. She was the one who always had to have to jokes explained to her afterwards. Nice woman, just not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Only a boss like Harding would have the patience to deal with her, and she knew it.

"I don't know, haven't heard anything yet." I told her. "But I hear that we might find out this afternoon."

"Oh God, Carla, what if he's a toughy, like that Baxter over in receivable?" She twisted the bottom of her blouse, the way she did when nervous. Poor Lola was obviously a wreck, probably imagining she'd get fired straight away, and she needed this job desperately. Baxter was known to be a real hard-ass, and fired people for the slightest infractions. Baxter's unit was definitely not the happy place ours was. Oh Lord, I thought, spare us another Baxter!

"Don't worry, Lola, I'm sure it will all be fine." I lied, because I wasn't at all sure it would be. "Hey Derek, why don't you take Lola over to the cafeteria and get her a coffee." I glanced at Lola, fiddling with the blouse bottom, looking like someone facing impending execution. "And, make it a decaf, before she rips that shirt to shreds."

Derek gently took Lola by the arm, "C'mon girl, lets take a break." I silently mouthed a "Thank you" to Derek as he walked her off to the elevators. He winked back at me, made an 'OK' with his fingers. Derek was good people. Everyone in our unit was good people, we all looked out for each other. While other units had their folks at each other's throats and were thick with office politics, ours had none of those problems. We were like a little family here. Well, now "Daddy" was going away, and we were to get a new "Daddy", and everyone was on edge, wondering if things would ever be the same.

I was especially worried. During the past 8 months or so, I had discovered a way to bring in a few extra bucks. I happen to be a fairly competent writer, and had been trying my hand at short stories. They were, uh, very special kinds of stories. Some would call them porn, but I preferred to think of them as erotic. Small difference, perhaps, but to me it was a critical one. Porn is just sex, sex, sex, with any 'story' used simply to tie the various sexual acts together. And usually not very well, but then, the audience for porn really didn't care if in chapter one the heroine went to school in Seattle, and in chapter three she went to Ohio U, as long as she got on her knees sometime before graduation.

Mine were a step up from that, or so I believed. And evidently, others did as well, because the stories were selling. I wasn't getting rich, but the extra money was quite welcome. I wouldn't be able to quit my day job anytime soon, I needed the benefits, but I had been able to sock quite a bit away. The problem was, I had been doing most of my writing at work.

Harding knew I was freelancing, but as long as I got my regular work done, it didn't seem to concern him. He never even asked what I was writing, and never begrudged me the use of office equipment as long as I didn't take advantage. And I didn't. It was a cozy little arrangement.

But what would happen now? Although I was careful to delete everything before I left for the day, I was concerned about how I would be able to continue now. Writing at home was tough, with the husband and kids around I couldn't really concentrate on the subject matter, and was petrified that one of the kids might stumble across something I had written. Working from the office had been the perfect solution.

Now, all that could change. And I wasn't very happy about it.

As I was contemplating this new reality, Margie, the unit secretary, interrupted my thoughts. "Carla, he's here. The new guy. He wants to see us all in his office."

I shook myself out of my reverie and looked up at her. "Well?" I asked. "What's he like?"

"Oh God, he seems like a prick." She leaned over, spoke quietly, "The first thing he said to me was 'How do you people even have jobs? This place is a mess, and I'm going to straighten it out." She stood back up. "I'll tell you, he ain't no Harding."

This is what I was afraid of. I could see, in my mind's eye, all my extra money drying up. I just couldn't do this writing from home, and if I couldn't do it from work, I didn't know how I would be able to continue. So, with these thoughts heavy on my mind, I rose and joined Margie. We walked over to Harding's office, Harding's old office, that is.

Everyone was already in there. The two of us joined them, I could see that Lola had been working overtime at that blouse, the bottom edge was pulled and twisted all around the front, I guessed the decaf hadn't helped. I glanced around quickly at the eight of us standing there, everyone wore a grim expression, Lola looked to be on the edge of tears. Whatever was happening in here, it wasn't good.

Our new boss was sitting behind his desk, (Harding's desk, I thought with annoyance.) He was young, at least younger than Harding. He was impeccably dressed, militantly groomed. His hair was dark, his eyes a steely blue. He looked angry.

"And you must be Miss Ryan." he said, glaring at me. "You may call me Mr. Ronen. Please join us. We are going over the new rules that will be going into effect, starting today." He sat back in the chair, looked over all of us, and spoke. "This place is a disorganized mess. Your previous boss obviously let you all get away with murder here, this is going to stop." He paused, then continued. "This will stop. Today. This office is going to be run properly from now on. You will all do your jobs," and, glaring at me, "and nothing but your jobs while you are here. I expect you to do exemplary work, to be on time, to be efficient and professional. I will tolerate nothing less. I have no problem firing anyone who does not perform to my standards. And, my standards are high, very high." He looked around at all of us, his eyes stopped when they reached me. "There will be no personal business conducted on my time, from my office. Anyone found violating that will be terminated, without warning." I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest. Why was he looking at me when he said that? He couldn't possibly know what I had been doing, I was careful to delete everything before I left for the day. I must be getting paranoid, I thought.

He spoke for a few more minutes, but I really wasn't listening, too deeply wrapped up in my own private thoughts to pay attention. The faces of my co-workers were grim, unsmiling, as he went on. Finally, we were dismissed, but as we all started to leave, he spoke again. "Miss Ryan, I will need to see you later, before you leave for the day. We have some things to discuss."

That was it, then. I was busted, as they say. Somehow he knew, he just knew, what I had been doing. I tried to think of something to say, anything, but he cut me off. "We won't talk about this now. Go back to your desk and do your work, we will discuss this later." It was a dismissal. I left, my knees shaking, my stomach doing flip-flops as I went to my desk and began to sort through the items that needed attention. But I couldn't keep my mind on the job. I was trying on various excuses for my behavior, and trying to figure out how in hell this guy happened to find me out in the first place.

The afternoon dragged on. I kept looking at the clock, waiting for 5 o'clock, wondering if I would have a job tomorrow. He had said he would "terminate without warning", but might he give me a second chance? I tried to come up with some argument I could use to convince him he should. I really needed this job, the writing alone was not going to cover my expenses, and jobs are not easy to find these days. Sick to my stomach, I worked through the rest of the day in a fog of thought and worry.

Finally, 5 pm came, and everyone gathered their stuff to leave. Derek handed me my coat, and said, "We're all going to go out for a drink. Or two. Or three. Join us, you look like you could use it. I know I can."

I thanked him, but told him I had something to take care of, which wasn't a lie. But I was too humiliated to share much else with him. He said, "Ok then, see you tomorrow."

Maybe not, I thought, and looked over at Harding's office. I corrected myself, it was now Ronen's office. Ronen, the martinet who would soon be telling me to clean out my desk and leave. After everyone had filtered out, I was left alone to my fate.

I picked up my purse, as I felt more secure with something to hold on to, and walked towards the closed office door. I knocked once, twice, and heard his voice, "Come in." I did.

He sat in the chair, back to me, looking out the window. "Sit down, Miss Ryan."

I sat, stiffly, in the chair facing his desk, holding my bag too tightly in my lap. "Uh, it's Mrs. Ryan," I said, then quickly added, "sir."

"Mrs. Ryan, then." He turned in the chair and faced me. "Do you know why you are here?" I got my first good look at him, being too overwrought before to take notice. He was definitely younger than Harding, and with a bit of surprise, realized he was extremely handsome. His dark hair was cut fashionably long and looked professionally styled. His suit was obviously expensive, and fitted him perfectly, with not a wrinkle in sight. So unlike Harding and his rumpled, 'just tumbled out of bed" look. His eyes, clear blue and piercingly intense, fixed on me with an expression I couldn't read. I felt uneasy under his gaze, and began to shift about nervously in my chair.

I decided to play dumb. "No sir. Have I done something wrong?" He said nothing, but reached over the desk and picked up a stack of papers. Rising from his chair, I saw how tall he was, and despite my apprehension, noticed he was trim and well-built. He probably works out, I thought. He walked around the desk, and stood behind me, then dropped the pages on the desk in front of me. I glanced at them, and saw the title page of one of my recent stories on the top of the pile. This one was called, "Chastising Melissa", and dealt with the theme of spanking. It was very graphic, and the idea that this man had read the thing and knew I had written it sent the blood rushing into my face. "You tell me." is all he said.

I fumbled with my words, not really knowing what to say. But, I had a question, and had to ask. "Uh, sir, where did you get these?"

He returned to his chair and sat, fixing those blue eyes on me. "Your Mr. Harding was evidently quite a big fan. They were in his computer. They originated from yours." I gasped. Harding? He knew about these? I know he knew I was writing, but never suspected he knew just what I was writing. The idea that kindly, grandfatherly Mr. Harding was an avid reader of my little stories gave me a bit of a start. And all this time, he had never let on. I felt a quick flash of anger, why did he keep them on his computer? And why couldn't he at least have deleted them before he left? Now, I was going to pay the price for his stupidity. Damn the man!

Ronen kept his eyes fixed on me. He sat back in the chair, and asked "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" I thought, well Carla, what DO you have to say for yourself? I tried to think.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I always did the writing on my breaks, and I deleted everything at the end of the day. Mr. Harding knew I was freelancing, and he was ok with it. I can see you are angry, and of course I won't do it anymore." then added "I don't want to lose my job over this, sir."

"Of course you don't, Miss Ryan." Again, he said 'Miss Ryan'. "Or, should I call you Miss Foster?" Barbara Foster was my pseudonym, in this business one never used one's real name, for all the obvious reasons. But now my cover was blown. I wondered if my job was about to get blown as well.

"Sir, I am very sorry. I can promise you it won't happen any more. I just needed the extra money, and..." I stopped, feeling myself on the verge of tears. I swallowed, hard, and continued. "I couldn't write these at home, I've got a husband and kids, and I..."

"You didn't want them to find out what kind of filthy little stories you were writing, did you?" he finished the sentence for me. I kept my head down, feeling the hot blood rush into my face.

"No sir, I didn't."

Ronen was still looking at me, and I thought I detected a slight smirk on his face. "I can understand why you wouldn't." He waved an immaculately manicured hand towards the pile of papers on the desk. "These 'stories' are certainly not something you would want everyone to know about, are they? Well, Miss Ryan, unfortunately I have to wonder how well you can perform your job duties when you obviously have so much else on your mind. Do you think you can perform your job duties?"

I looked up, the expression on his face had changed, ever so slightly. He was looking at me rather intently now. "Of course, sir. As I said, it won't happen again." then quickly added, "I wouldn't want anyone else to know about these." And then he smiled. A strange little smile, reminding me of a cruel little boy who has something trapped, something he wants to play with. Something helpless, something he wants to toy with for awhile. That something was me.

"Well, Miss Ryan, what should we do about these?" He nodded towards the pile of papers. "I think something needs to be done, don't you agree?" He paused a moment, his eyes never leaving me. "Do you think you deserve to be chastised?"

I wasn't sure I heard him correctly. "Sir?"

He repeated, "I said, do you think you deserve to be chastised?" When I didn't answer, he went on, "You had best think about your answer, Miss Ryan. This is not a game."

I felt my pulse start to race. The way he was looking at me, the way he kept saying "Miss Ryan", the sound of his voice, all these were beginning to make me feel, well, peculiar. When I still didn't answer, he spoke again. "Come here."

As if in a fog, I walked over to where he was sitting, and stood there. He looked me up and down, very slowly, then said, almost to himself, "Oh yes, I think a proper chastisement is in order, wouldn't you agree, Miss Ryan?"

"I...I don't know, sir." My head was starting to feel woozy and light, I felt my legs tremble slightly, and wasn't sure I would be able to stand much longer. He continued to look me over, his eyes missing nothing as they moved over my body. When he spoke, his voice was stern.

"Do you want to keep your job, Miss Ryan?"

"Yes sir, yes, I do."

"And do you wish to retain your anonymity as well?"

"Of course, sir."

He nodded, then said, "Well then, we shall have to take care of a few things first. Your actions deserve punishment, do they not?"

"I guess so, sir." I was sure I was going to faint dead away, but I was also becoming aroused. This man, his whole manner, was turning me on, and despite the fear I felt, I also felt myself becoming very wet. I wondered what form of 'punishment' he had in mind.

I wasn't left to wonder for very long. He leaned back in the chair, gave me a final look over, and said, "Take off your panties, fold them, and place them on the desk." His voice was soft, but his tone left no doubt he meant for me to obey. With trembling hands, I complied, then stood there, feeling the cool air up under my skirt.

"Excellent." he said. "I think we are beginning to understand one another." He smiled. "Now, come over here, no, closer." I stood directly in front of him, feeling very exposed. He took my wrists in his hands, put them behind my back and held them with one hand. With a sudden movement, he had me across his lap. He lifted my skirt with the other hand, up over my hips, till I was lying fully exposed from the waist down. I heard him sigh, then felt his hand stroke my buttocks lightly, gently caressing one cheek, then the other. Without warning he raised his hand and brought it down sharply across my ass. I gasped at the sudden pain, and he brought his hand down again and again. My breath caught in my throat as he spanked me, hard.

I had written about spanking before, but in my stories it wasn't like this. This hurt, it was like bee stings, and Ronen wasn't playing. After about a dozen, he stopped, and rested his hand on my fiery backside. I was gasping at the pain, grateful that he stopped. But then his hand began moving over my ass again, gently this time. His fingers slid between the cleft of my ass and down to my pussy, which was now thoroughly wet. In spite of myself, I began to moan as his fingers slid over me, he breathed, "My, my, aren't you wet...You like this, don't you?" and eased a finger into my aching pussy. I moved my hips against him, and felt the hardness of his cock against me as he worked one, then two fingers into me. My breathing quickened, I pushed myself against his probing fingers. He worked my own juices up the crack of my ass until it was as wet as my pussy, then he pushed his thumb all the way up my ass and began to work all three fingers in and out of me. He had me in his grip like a bowling ball.

He released my wrists and used the hand to open his fly, I heard the swish of the zipper and felt him stroking his cock. Without a word he pushed me off his lap until I was down on the floor between his legs. I looked up, watching him handle his cock, huge and thick. He grabbed me by the hair and pushed the big moist head into my mouth.

"Suck it." is all he said. I took him in my mouth and began to slide my lips along the shaft, tasting the slightly salty pre-come. "Oh yeah, that's it. That's it, take it all. Swallow it." and he started pushing my head down on him, gagging me with his cock. That pleased him, and he began thrusting into my mouth, his hands in my hair, holding my head so I couldn't pull away. "You like to suck cock don't you, you little slut?" He was breathing faster now, and his hands moved through my hair, pulling my face down between his legs as he grunted and thrust into my mouth. "I'll bet there are lot's of things you like to do..."

Then he pulled me off. He picked me up, pushed me face down across the desk, and rubbed the head of his cock against my wet slit. With one thrust, he was in me to the hilt. He grabbed my hair and began fucking me, hard and fast. He slipped one hand around the front and stroked my engorged clit while he drove into me from behind. I was going out of my mind, that cock felt so good, and knew I was going to come soon. He whispered harshly into my ear, calling me names, telling me what he was going to do to me, telling me I would love every minute of it. I felt the tension build in my belly and lost myself in the feel of his cock slamming into me, until I came, suddenly and hard. He continued his thrusting and then stiffened, his breath ragged, as he came into me.

After a few minutes, he slipped out of me with a long sigh. I remained across the desk, feeling the cool air on my ass. I could hear him adjusting his clothing, heard the zipper as he closed up his pants. He gave me a final, hard slap across the ass, then told me to get myself dressed.

cyravance
cyravance
17 Followers
12