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Home / Stormy Night Publications Newsletter / His Blushing Plaything by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

His Blushing Plaything by Emily Tilton – Extended Preview

Natalie had bluffed, more or less, when she told Javier that she had read the relevant clauses about corporal punishment in the new laws and in her contract. She had remembered, and had felt triumph about recalling, the part about a witness, but on the whole she had skimmed that section of the contract, with its statutory references, disgusted that she had to sign a document that gave her employer the nominal power to paddle her like a schoolgirl of yore.

Her hands trembled as she reached up for the button at the neck of her blouse. Javier stood three or four feet away now, looking at her with those dark eyes that seemed to glitter in his handsome face. Could she really do this? Really take off her clothes in front of her boss’ boss’ boss?

She reached for her business skills, seeking a way of retaining some pride despite the basic degradation of what he had demanded. She spoke in a calm, level voice as her fingers fumbled with the little button.

“Tell me more about this… opportunity?” Natalie suggested. “What kind of game is it? I mean, I guess it must be a board game, but… is it, you know, like checkers, or like Chutes and Ladders, or…”

She had the button undone, now, and she hesitated, looking at him, in his crisp white Oxford shirt with silver cuff links bearing his initials glinting at his wrists where he slowly rubbed his right hand in his left. Natalie felt her calm expression waver at the sight of those hands, at their bigness and their casual strength.

“Take your blouse and skirt off, honey,” he said in a soft voice that had a hint of the same quiet threat presented in his hands. “When you’re in your underwear I’ll tell you more about the game.”

Natalie’s cheeks burned as much at the honey as at the rest of the condescending command. She focused on his gleaming burgundy loafers, and she put her hands down to the hem of the blouse. Then she stopped, frozen in that position, about to take her top off, about to remove the upper part of her favorite work outfit, the lucky cream blouse that went with the lucky pink skirt.

And haven’t they proven their luckiness today?

How could any of her think that? Natalie tried to tell herself the wayward idea meant only that after she got out of Javier Santos’ office she would get seriously lucky in the office of an attorney.

“Last chance, honey,” Javier said.

Her eyes flew up to his face. She wanted to pretend she didn’t understand, that she hadn’t grasped what the consequences of disobedience would be. She wanted to demand her witness, as the one shred of a right she had according to her draconian contract. The disapproving face of Mrs. Gordon rose in her mind, though: Natalie suddenly felt sure that the secretary would sit calmly and watch Natalie receive the most severe of paddlings, would recommend to her boss that the new girl’s bare bottom be spanked harder, for her insolence in daring to ask about this horrid game, whatever it might be.

Javier’s eyes assessed her calmly, but in that quiet self-command she thought she could also see that he had chosen her for this shameful ‘opportunity’ not only because of her prettiness but also from some genuine appreciation of her more generally. Suddenly she remembered much more about the cocktail party, and her burning face got even hotter as in her mind she saw the smile on his perfect lips as she had drunkenly shaken his hand.

Natalie knew fairly well when a guy was attracted to her. Those instincts told her now that Javier wanted her. His self-possession, though, held a strange, scary promise to bend her to his will, rather than letting her dictate terms as pretty girls, she had always thought, should do. The very idea of it threw her off kilter and sent a shiver up her spine.

She couldn’t take off her clothes for him, but he would… he would spank her if she didn’t. Natalie felt herself at the edge of pulling up her blouse to show her moderately sexy but very beige bra, at the edge of running for the door, at the edge of telling him he would have to bring Mrs. Gordon in and get the paddle.

Javier reached out his right hand, almost casually, and took hold of Natalie just above her left elbow.

“What…” The word emerged as the verbal equivalent of her wide eyes, and her immediate instinctive attempt to writhe away despite the almost electric tingle that seemed to go through her body at the touch of his huge but somehow still very elegant hand.

As soon as he felt her resisting his grasp, though, the hand tightened on her arm, and she found herself being pulled away from the coffee table and turned toward the couch. Javier started to march her there, a little in front of him, and Natalie found her body going along with it, almost as a way to buy time as she tried to figure out what was happening.

Then her mind caught up with her limbs’ movements, and she stopped them, turning her head so that she could look Javier in the face.

“You know perfectly well what’s going to happen now, Natalie,” he said.

He used his firm grip on her arm to pull her further around the corner of the coffee table. Natalie stumbled, and he caught her around the waist, his sheer, easy strength taking her breath away. Then, in a fluid set of movements, with Natalie’s body so off-balance that Javier could transfer her from arm to arm and then topple her over as he wished, he sat on the couch and she found herself upended over his knee, with her knees on the oriental carpet and her upper body on the black-leather-covered cushions.

Her mind had words in it—words she had felt certain a moment before would stop this terrible scene, or at least divert it—but the rapidity of his movements hadn’t let them emerge. Now she tried them, still more than half-convinced she could gain back the bit of upper hand she had felt she held while he waited for her to obey him.

“Okay, I’ll do it… I’ll take off—”

She felt him start to pull her skirt up. Her words stopped, and her right hand flew back, desperately, to keep it down. She managed to get the hem into her fingers, but Javier put his other hand on her wrist and pulled her hand up, too, so that the pink skirt had come almost to the place where her thighs stopped and her bottom-cheeks began by the time she managed to speak again, right before he would see her panties.

“Wait… please… I’ll…”

His hands seemed to pause for just a moment, as if he were listening to her plea, or—as Natalie had this thought her face blazed hotter than she thought it ever had before—as if he wanted to take a second to appreciate the conquest involved in exposing a naughty girl’s underwear. Then the hands pulled again, and Natalie knew he could see her blue nylon panties, a sight no man had ever seen outside a doctor’s office.

The special, mortifying nature of her position came to her now in a rush, as she pictured herself over her boss’ boss’ boss’ knee, on the couch in his office. She had refused to comply with the instructions given her by the vice president of marketing of the Selecta Corporation, her employer. He had unceremoniously exercised his right as her superior—as her dominant, masculine superior—to take the necessary action and to embark upon giving a naughty girl the lesson she needed.

It didn’t matter that the order she had received violated Natalie’s ideas of how business should be ethically conducted. Indeed, the occasion for this disciplinary action, Natalie Smith’s failure to take off her clothes for the man who ran her department of a global super-corporation, made her position over his knee seem even more humiliatingly appropriate. Javier Santos knew what to do with young women in his employ when they refused to display their nubile charms.

His fingers took hold of the elastic waistband of her panties. Natalie squirmed desperately now, trying to free her right hand, trying to work her left hand behind her to stop him from baring her bottom, even though that left her face fully in the leather-covered cushion. The very smell of that opulent surface seemed to tell her she had no chance, no choice, but she managed to get hold of the nylon for a moment and hold her panties up while she cried out a further plea into the couch.

“Please, I’ll do it. Please don’t…” Then, although it made little sense alongside Natalie’s last-ditch request to be allowed to take off her clothes, she found herself pleading in the voice of a girl who knew well what had to happen, and hoped to lessen the sting and the embarrassment involved. “Not on the bare! Javier, please!”

He responded first with his body. In an instant she found both her wrists secured behind her back in his left hand, and both her legs restrained under his right thigh. She gave a muffled sob as she felt his right hand return to the waist of her panties, turning her face as best she could over her right shoulder, and then her left, until she could finally catch a glimpse of his face, looking down into her eyes.

At that point, to Natalie’s surprise and to her momentary relief, Javier paused, and spoke for the first time since telling her she knew what the consequences of not taking off her clothes were going to be.

“Honey, you know you need this, and you know you need it with your panties down.”

Again her cheeks blazed, and she gasped at the way her tummy filled with butterflies. A terrible, wanton thrill went through her at his words. She heard in his deep voice that he wanted to savor the moment, that he had interrupted the inevitable flow of her punishment to address her not only because he wanted to communicate something important but also because he greatly enjoyed having her over his knee about to have her panties taken down, about to receive her very first spanking.

“No!” she protested, grasping for the remnants of the professionalism that screamed how wrong it was, how degrading. “That’s… that’s fucking ridiculous!”

“Young ladies who use foul language,” Javier said calmly, “only demonstrate even more clearly what they need.”

He started to pull down her panties, then, and somehow it stirred another memory about the contract. She grabbed at the straw her mind offered.

“Wait… this isn’t how it’s supposed to work.”

Javier’s hand stopped, the backs of his knuckles now distractingly against the top of Natalie’s bottom-crack. His eyes showed thoughtful attention.

She continued, trying to sound authoritative, “I thought it was supposed to be with a paddle, over a desk, and with my underwear on.”

When Javier smiled in response to this objection, she could see the impossibility of her situation laid out in front of her before he even spoke. His words only confirmed that the ‘opportunity’ of being chosen by him carried no chance to refuse.

“We can certainly do that, if you’d like, honey,” he said. “But the code of conduct for Selecta executives says that it’s best if we can take care of a young woman’s disciplinary needs less formally and more intimately, like this. That means panties down, right now, especially because you’re going to have everything off afterwards when I inspect you, and then ask your consent to claim you as my piece.”

Javier watched with growing arousal as Natalie took in his words. The mingled mystification and awakening need in her wide eyes added something hard to define to his simple physical enjoyment of having a pretty girl over his knee for a spanking. It had a measure of sheer dominance to it, of the heady power a man like Javier always felt in introducing a girl to her submissive side.

It also, however, had a component that felt delightful and dangerous in nearly equal measure—the more delightful because the more dangerous, and vice versa. Javier realized he wanted to awaken Natalie the right way, and the right way meant so as to leave her wanting not just more domination from powerful, wealthy men, but more domination from Javier Santos. His cock swelled under Natalie’s left hip because he cared deeply about what she thought of the man who had decided to give her the discipline she needed, and he could see in her eyes that despite her carefully learned professional instincts, the girl couldn’t help getting warm between her thighs at the idea of being spanked, inspected, and claimed.

She had no response to his assurance that she could ask for a formal disciplinary paddling with Gloria Gordon present. Javier wanted to make certain Natalie understood that while he would listen to her concerns, he would not let her escape the painful lesson she so desperately needed. With a practiced, fluid motion, his cock leaping at the feeling of the nylon in his fingers and Natalie’s firm, creamy bottom-cheeks against them, he pulled her panties down to the middle of her thighs.

“No! Wait!” she cried, twisting wildly but to no avail at all. She clearly worked out, and had a little strength, but Javier benched two hundred fifty though he hid his powerful body in an executive’s full-tailored shirt. He held her still, and he used enough of his strength to make sure Natalie understood that she would be kept that way, as motionless throughout her punishment as if he had strapped her to the punishment block in the discipline room on the thirty-ninth floor.

“I can tell you’ve never been spanked, honey.” he said as his bodily control over her drew whimpers of desperate protest. He kept her wrists tight against her back, pressing down to hold her torso in place over the couch cushion, and he clamped his right leg a little tighter.

“Fuck you!” Natalie cried, surprising him a little with the sudden sharpness of the retort. Her last foray into foul language had seemed to Javier a good deal more in keeping with her studied business demeanor, an attempt to stay within the office culture of well-placed f-bombs. Now she had tears in her eyes of fear and humiliation as she understood how lewd a view he had of her sweet bare bottom, a few adorable curly hairs emerging from her tightly closed thighs.

Javier knew exactly what to do, and how to move her further, deeper into the place that scared and shamed her—the place about which the summer game would teach Natalie Smith so much. It could begin in one way, and one way only, with the start of real discipline.

Looking into her welling eyes and holding her motionless over his knee, Javier raised his strong right hand to shoulder height, and brought it down hard on the middle of Natalie’s bottom, right on the sit-spot, just above the crease where her thighs began. The spank rang out like a shot in his high-ceilinged office. Her lips parted and her eyes went wide, but she didn’t cry out at the sting until he had repeated the blow, just a little harder, in the same spot, less than a second later.

As he pulled his hand up in preparation for delivering a third hard, rapid spank, Natalie’s lovely backside squirmed lewdly and distractingly, she tried again to twist in his arms, and she cried out from a red, crumpled face. His handprint appeared clearly on her young bottom-cheeks, too, and he aimed for it with his third firm slap, hitting it almost exactly.

She needed to get through this part quickly: to learn that a spanking from a man like Javier hurt, but that it wouldn’t harm her, that instead it would stir inside her heart and mind and soul things that felt troubling but at same time reassuring. She needed now most of all to understand that she had come into the power of a dominant man who knew how to take care of her heart through his mastery of her body.

He paused, and he put his hand on her warm bottom, right where he had spanked her hard, but certainly not as hard as he could and probably would do, as she got to know him. Definitely not as hard as he would have paddled her in the discipline room.

A shudder went all the way through Natalie’s body at his softer touch. She closed her brimming eyes, and her forehead furrowed very deeply. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, don’t.”

“You’ve been naughty, honey,” he said, rubbing a circle on her bottom that made Natalie whimper. “You know you’ve been naughty, and you know what naughty girls get, especially here at Selecta.”

Her back arched, though Javier suspected she would have done almost anything to keep her body from moving that way. Experimentally, he loosened his grip on her wrists, but Natalie only whimpered again and didn’t try to move them. He let her hands go entirely, then, and she opened her eyes in surprise.

“Get up on your elbows, now,” Javier said. “You have a lot more coming.”

She scrambled to obey, and he felt sure he knew why: the arousal his rubbing hand had brought to the surface made Natalie desperate to avoid betraying the burgeoning need between her thighs.

Without delay, then, Javier took her firmly around the waist with his left arm, and began to spank her in earnest, at a slow, steady pace and speaking to her as he alternated hard spanks among her right and left cheeks and her trim upper thighs.

“You think… of yourself… Natalie… as very professional… but you have… a very great deal… to learn… about corporate… life.”

She cried out now at each spank, and her bottom had gotten quite warm and quite pink, his handprints spreading to becoming a uniform hue, indicative of a young lady undergoing proper correction. Now as Javier stopped speaking and quickened the pace of the spanking, intent on making sure Natalie understood what a long punishment felt like, she began to struggle again, her bottom mobile and surging so that to his delight Javier could see for the first time the hint of her cute, pouting pussy lips.

“Please!” she wailed. “Please, no more!”

She threw her right hand back to try to ward off his hand, but he secured it easily once again at her back and kept spanking, the girl’s tears now flowing freely onto the couch and her face almost as red as her backside. When he stopped at last, Natalie lay limp over his knee, even when he loosened his grip, releasing her arm, and relaxed his right leg.

He held her now without restraining her, just keeping her in that submissive position that he knew taught her so much in and of itself about her needs and how they would now be met and explored. A dominant older man had chosen her to learn how to give pleasure and how to submit to sexual discipline and sexual use, and her own erotic ecstasy would follow close behind.

Natalie sobbed into the cushion, her back heaving as Javier stroked it gently, his hand moving lightly and very slowly downward, making her wait for something she could not yet admit she wanted. Her hips, given freer rein now, moved against her will in a lovely seductive motion at the feeling of masculine fingers just above the backside he had rubbed so frankly only a few moments before.

“Please…” she said again, but in a very different tone, so ambiguous that it made Javier’s cock leap under her hip. “Don’t… don’t…”

“I won’t,” Javier said gently. “I won’t stop, honey.”

That drew a sob that became a moan even as it left Natalie’s throat, for Javier had followed his words with the motion of his hand further down, then much further down, and then, possessively, between the legs that Natalie couldn’t help parting in invitation as soon as she felt what he meant to do.

With his fingers he grasped the sweet, furry pussy that no male hand had touched, firmly but not forcefully, and he rubbed her there with a practiced, slow, and steady motion that made her hips buck so hard that Javier had to hold her around her waist again to keep her in place.

That restraint by his left arm made Natalie cry out, and he knew her first orgasm with him lay only an instant away. He pulled his hand from between her legs. A forlorn, muffled cry came from her buried face, and she turned with a pout of wild need to look at him again over her left shoulder.

“Not yet, Natalie,” he said softly. “Not until I claim you.”

Her brow furrowed even more deeply. “I don’t understand,” she whimpered. “I don’t…”

Javier could see in her eyes the desperate, fruitless search for an adequate word. He put his hand back on her bottom, and held both her burning little cheeks to teach her they would belong to him now, and that she might never have the right word for how that made her feel.

“I don’t get it,” she finally whispered, and bit her lip as he ran his fingertips lightly back between her thighs, parting her lightly furred outer lips to find her wetness flowing freely, to ready her virgin slit for what her boss meant to do there. Natalie let out a long moan, and after a brief caress of her adorable, cringing inner lips, Javier withdrew his hand again to the outer ones, letting his fingers play in the chestnut curls.

“We’ll have to take your hair away, honey. All the pieces have smooth pussies.”

Her bottom squirmed, and she pushed it out a little, trying to rub herself against his hand but again he held her still, and took his hand away entirely.

“Why?” Natalie asked in a frustrated moan. “I mean… no, I don’t want that. I don’t…”

“Most men who get to the top of a company like this one prefer a waxed pussy,” Javier said, knowing that Natalie couldn’t help her fascination with the idea of being made to reveal herself in that submissive way. His fingertips returned, stroking the place lightly, and Natalie shivered at the touch. “It shows that a girl knows she has no secrets from the man who’s chosen her, and who…”

Javier chose his words very carefully now, knowing that the time had come to progress Natalie Smith’s education an important further step. He moved his fingers inward, deeper, pushing nearly to the place where Natalie would take his hard cock in a few minutes as he spoke, and then quickly withdrew them to caress her sweet little clit, so that she sobbed with need and pleasure at his words.

“…uses her smooth young pussy for his pleasure.”

Again Natalie almost came, writhing in his arms and seeking in the way Javier restrained her the impetus that would send her body over the edge into climax. He refused her the acme of ecstasy, though, and took his hand away once more.

“I like what I’m seeing, Natalie,” he said in a much more casual tone, “but I need to get a closer look. You’re going to get up and take off all your clothes. Then you’ll bend over the coffee table while I inspect you.”

He released her completely, but for a moment she remained motionless, confronted as she had been by a nearly impossible choice. To get up—to exercise her agency in the only way that wouldn’t leave her still in the humiliating, submissive position of a girl put over a man’s knee for a spanking—would also be to obey him, and to imply that she meant to do as he had said, and undress at last.

“Don’t make me spank you any more, honey,” he said. “Get up now, and get undressed for me.”

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