My Naughty Little Secret (28 page)

A half an hour had barely passed before Myra telephoned. James had been onto her like a shot. Bless her, she was as sweet as ever and cut through the bullshit.

“I’m sure you could do with an hour away from James, Do you fancy lunch?”

“Oh, Myra, I’m not kidding, nothing would give me more pleasure to have an hour of sense, but I have to meet my housemates and break the news. I’d much rather a quiet glass of wine in In Vino In Veritas with you. Can you manage tomorrow instead?”

“It’s a date,” she agreed.

I met Claire and Tara for lunch in TGI Fridays and I couldn’t help wishing it was Friday. I really didn’t know how I was going to handle the week ahead. The girls insisted on celebrating my news with bubbles, a bottle of Prosecco. It was really lovely, light and dry, but the bubbles went straight to my head. I’d had my driest Christmas in my drinking years; I just seemed to have lost my taste for it and one glass went straight to my head. On the tube back to Knightsbridge, I felt a hot and cold flush. A cold clammy feeling clawed at me, I walked the short distance from the tube station to the office without registering a step along the way; I just knew I urgently needed to be sitting at my desk. I met James in the corridor as I came in, but I couldn’t stop, I needed the ladies’ urgently. I felt sick. The stress of Christmas, the excitement of the engagement, the ridiculously early start, and then alcohol at lunchtime knocked me for six. Wouldn’t you think that at my age I’d have more wit?

James was waiting at my desk when I returned and nothing would do him but for me to go home. I insisted I was fine, which I was now after I’d thrown up, but he was adamant. He even insisted that Laura, the new personnel assistant, walk home with me. Jesus, he was worse than his son. He said he’d tell Michael to ring me after his meeting. Sometimes I felt like James was another bloody boyfriend. I wished he’d back off a bit. But he was only starting.

The next day I was full of the joys of life again and was at my desk bright and early. I spent a busy morning catching up on what I’d missed and was glad to have the excuse to meet Myra for lunch. For once I made it back on time. I normally seemed to get a spanking for my timekeeping whenever I met Myra as the time passed so quickly and she was never under pressure to watch the clock. I stuck my head around Michael’s door at five to two.

“Disappointed?” I asked.

“What?” he asked, looking confused.

“I’m back on time,” I announced, going into his office. I shut the door and slipped off my panties and handed them to him. “But we can pretend I’m late,” I said cheekily.

“Miss Brennan, are you asking for a spanking?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

“Well, I’ll see what I can do later. You’re obviously feeling better today.”

He balled up my panties and raised them to his lips, making a
mwah
sound with a wolfish grin. I saw the bulge in his trousers and smiled.

“You had better stay sitting at your desk for a while,” I advised, amused.

“Why don’t you sit on my lap?”

“No chance, Michael, save it for later, I wouldn’t want to waste it here,” I taunted.

“There’s plenty more where this comes from,” Michael promised.

“Later, dear.” I left him nursing his erection.

At seven I rang Michael to say I was leaving. He asked me to call into him before I left the building. The place was deserted apart from the two security guards on the shop floor. As I entered the room, he came out from behind the door and swiftly locked it, trapping me inside and locking intruders out.

“Miss Brennan, you are a very naughty lady,” he said, holding a wooden ruler in his hand. “You have caused me to be distracted and dysfunctional all afternoon and now you must be punished.” He led me over to the conference table.

“Bend over that and lay your hands flat on the table above your head,” he ordered sexily.

“Oh, no, sir, I beg your forgiveness, please let me go at once,” I retorted, very much enjoying the game.

“If I let you off this time, then you will only misbehave again, you must be punished. Severely!” he said menacingly. “Now we are starting at twenty, but I will add on another ten for every minute you disobey.”

“Sir, please, that’s uncalled for,” I beseeched mockingly.

“Thirty.”

I was getting wetter by the second and Michael’s breathing was short and spiked.

“No. sir, I must protest. I
will
report you to the industrial relations committee,” I threatened.

“Forty!”

Thinking that would be quite as much as I could bear, I lay on the desk face down and put my hands above my head. I felt him raise my skirt above my hips. This was shit hot. I felt him bring the ruler down on my bottom.

“Count. you naughty girl, count…”

“One.”

“One what?” He spanked me again.

“One, sir.”

“Good, that only counts as your first. I want the number and sir after each stroke or we start over. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

He spanked again. “Two, sir, three, sir” and on and on until I got to “forty, sir,” panting and groaning and soaking wet.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now you need a little further training in your office duties,” he told me lustily. “Kneel down on the floor and kiss my penis.”

I tried to look shocked. “But sir, that’s not in my job description.”

“If you read the small print, you would have seen duties as required. I think this is as required,” he ordered, threateningly swishing the ruler in the air. I gently kissed the tip of his engorged cock. I pulled the foreskin, exposing some of the moisture gathering there and rubbed it with my finger. Then I put my moistened finger on my clit and circled gently. Michael groaned.

“You are not finished your training yet,” he sternly told me. “Take my penis in your mouth, you naughty girl… Aagh, fuck,” he said as I obeyed.

I sucked his penis, taking it deep into my mouth. Pulling back, I gave him what I thought was an innocent look.

“Was that right, sir?” I asked, batting my lashes at him.

“I’m not sure, try it again,” he ordered, “and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

I sucked harder and pumped him with my mouth until he shouted, “STOP.”

“Good girl, you learn quickly, but there’s still more.”

“Stand up and lean slightly over the table, placing your hands on the edge,” he ordered.

“Sir,” I objected again in a small voice, “surely I have performed above and beyond the call of duty.”

“Not quite, Miss Brennan, you must learn to follow my instructions unquestioningly,” he ordered, swishing the ruler again.

I did as he bade. Michael hitched up my skirt and entered me, making me come immediately. As I thrashed in ecstasy, he thrust and ejaculated his juice into my hot wet pussy.

I grinned, “I hope no one ever comes to make a complaint about inappropriate behaviour about you. I’ll have to believe them.”

“Only if the complainant is a certain Miss Brennan,” he reminded me with a kiss.

“God was smiling down on me from heaven the day he put us both in the lingerie department. You’re one hot fuck.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” I smirked. “Are you coming home,
Sir
?”

“Just as soon as my legs are capable of functioning,” he grinned. “Do you want your knickers? It’s cold out there.”

“I suppose. I wouldn’t want to catch a chill, since I’m so damp.” I quipped.

He swatted my behind. “Dirty slut,” he teased, handing me my panties.

“And you love it.”

We walked down to the exit hand in hand, passing the security room. One of the security men was watching the CCTV cameras. I noticed two of the screens covered the corridors of the office space upstairs.

“Good job your office doesn’t have glass walls,” I giggled.

* * *

James had cut his working hours back and he now only worked Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. On Friday morning he called a meeting with Michael and me. I was stunned to hear his proposition. He was determined that some of the shares of the company should be passed to me and he wanted to transfer more of his to Michael. Safeguarding the future, he called it. I argued bitterly against any shares. It all seemed wrong to me. Sure, I intended to continue working in Banbury’s for now, but I wasn’t marrying the institution, I was marrying Michael. And we weren’t even married yet. I had done nothing to earn the shares and it went against the grain. He started talking crap about the future generations needing protecting and how it had been for the best that Lydia had been a shareholder, etc., but I got really mad. Michael and I hadn’t even discussed if children were on the cards and James was poking his nose into a very private area of our lives. Hell, I wasn’t even thinking about kids yet. Sure, maybe I might want them in four or five years, but first I had a career to attend to. And so too, for that matter, had Michael. It was new to both of us. I could see from his face he was as stunned as I was. But James was formidable when he got a bee in his bonnet.

As if that wasn’t all bad enough, he then produced yesterday’s newspapers which we had missed, caught up in our own private bubble of domestic bliss. In the social pages there was an announcement and a photo of us kissing at the 100
^th
party.

Heir to Banbury’s engaged.

Michael Henrii, recently announced as heir to the Banbury empire, to wed Irish girl and colleague, Siobhan Brennan.

I felt sick, I saw a brief mention of Easkey and that was enough, it was back to the ladies’ room for me. This was way more than I’d bargained for. Shit, I could imagine the Sligo Champion quoting the story next week. I’d better warn them at home. I ended up leaving work early again. Michael did his best to be reassuring, but he really didn’t get how deep the horror ran in me. He’d been raised in a different world and this kind of thing was par for the course with him. The nightmares started that night and would plague me, leaving me listless and low until I caved under the pressure.

Saturday night was the so-called “celebration dinner.” Lydia and Gaston had flown over from Paris. I was like a demon. Michael, in an effort to distract me, challenged me to wear the love egg out for dinner. I agreed, more to please him than for any pleasure he thought I might derive from it. We were running late, for once because Michael was disorganised. I think the whole thing was getting to him more than he let on. They were all sitting at the table as we arrived and I whispered some quip about him keeping them waiting. He hit the remote and the vibrations took over. I was amused, but gave him a defiant look for the hell of it. The one thing that bothered me was I was afraid they might hear the hum of it.

“Shit, it’s a bit noisy,” I whispered and he grinned.

“Behave yourself and I won’t put it on again.”

So that was how he was playing it. Fucker! The waiter came round and I ordered the mussels as a starter, followed by venison. I was really disappointed with the mussels; they were one of my favourite foods but they tasted off, although Michael disagreed. The venison was delicious. I had to make a couple of trips to the ladies’ and Michael used that time to have fun with the egg, switching it into life as I exited the dining room and off again as I approached the table before I was close enough for the hum to be heard. He kept me distracted and on my toes ‘til dessert. First of all they started talking wedding plans. Fuck, they wanted a function second only to Kate and William’s! No bloody way did I want a multitude of strangers at my wedding and I strenuously objected. That’s when James gave us our engagement presents. Envelopes. I knew without opening it what it contained. Shares in my name. I was
livid.
Michael opened his envelope, looked at my unopened one, and looked at my face. I opened my mouth to speak and the fury must have shown, because all of a sudden I felt the egg flash into life. That made me twice as mad, making my eyes flash at him in rage.

“Don’t say a fucking word. Go to the ladies’.” he hissed. Normally he only swore in the bedroom, so I got the picture and didn’t dare defy him. To my total horror, he followed me in there. Shit, what if he got caught? Before I had the chance to protest, he pushed me into a cubicle, pulled up my dress, and abruptly inserted his finger in my anus, causing me to wince in discomfort. The first words he spoke were:

“The person at the next table is a reporter for the Daily Telegraph. If you don’t want the argument in the paper tomorrow, you’ll wait. Now when we get back out there, you’re going to change the subject and we’ll finish this argument at home.” I didn’t dare disagree, nor did I want to; I had well and truly been put in my box.

He left me standing there, totally nonplussed, casually walked over to the wash hand basin and started casually and unhurriedly washing his hands as if using the ladies’ WC was an everyday occurrence for him and he had every right to be there. I was still open-mouthed and admonished. He re-joined his parents at the table, but it took me another couple of minutes to gather myself and return to the table. He invited his parents back to the apartment after dinner to discuss the issue. The thing was, Michael was of their opinion, and he felt I should take the shares. I was swamped by them all. And I felt ill and exhausted. To me it was obvious: this was a world that I didn’t belong in. I told James if he insisted on me taking the shares I’d have to leave Banbury’s, but I knew I was going to leave now as soon as a suitable job came up, whether he transferred the shares or not. I also knew that the next day I was going back to the house in Ruislip. I was so grateful the girls hadn’t let the room out yet. This wedding was not happening. Much and all as I loved Michael, I was beginning to realise he was the tiniest cog in the Banbury machine and I didn’t fit in.

Nothing he said could make a difference. I packed up my stuff first thing the next morning because putting it off was only prolonging the agony. Siobhan Brennan from Easkey was never going to be able to cut it as a society wife. It didn’t matter how much I loved him; sooner or later I was going to revert to type. Small-town girl. I could walk now, before there were messy divorces or children, or I could put it off for another five years, but sooner or later our backgrounds were going to split us and I’d be a fool to think differently. I was in bits, but still I felt it was the right decision. Michael wasn’t even there; he left when he couldn’t persuade me to stay. He said he couldn’t bear to watch me pack. I left his ring on the hall stand as I left. I climbed into a cab on my way to Ruislip with tears streaming down my face and the Whitney Houston song, “Didn’t We Almost Have It All” going round and round in my head. We so nearly did have it all, but I couldn’t take the trappings.