The Peep

The trio gladed at me across the table. Two product managers, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. And a new product owner — a slim blonde number. Wonder where they got her from — usually they are all so badly hard-up for proper people that… But never mind. This was the first time that we two shared a meeting. We’ll see how it goes.

It had been a difficult day. Damn meeting after meeting After meeting. And every meeting just like the one before it. Arguments. Daft developers claiming that they want to change the design just a little to make it easier to dev. Daft product managers arguing for and against architecture decisions, trying to dictate what the solution needs to be. What is that makes them so pushy, it’s not that they ever get anything right.

But they persisted in arguing with me over each and Every simple and clear suggestions that, in the end, I banged my fist on the table and shouted at them – “What do you lot want? The next one who peeps his nonsense, I will personally catch him and spank him. Right. Right!? RIGHT!” As usual, the moment you raise your voice at them, the two Tweedles hung their heads and mumbled their OK’s. So very expected. Can’t argue themselves out of a corner. Or shout. Or pretty much anything.

I was leaning back into my seat when that blonde looked me in the eye and, quite deliberately, said “Peep!” I felt my anger rising, felt my face flush as I banged the table again, with the flat of my hand. And then – the ridiculousness of this all struck me. I almost burst out laughing. But only almost. For under the table, suddenly, her leg brushed mine. Maybe by accident. But, to judge by the cock of her eye, not by accident.

We ended the meeting on that note. Even the Tweedles seemed somewhat relieved by the end scene. But I… Well, I checked where the new PDO’s office was. One floor up, in the west section. That one was not fully populated yet. Ah…

Come end of day, I went to the third floor. The officeswere already emptying as people were leaving. This is not a crunch period, so life balance is sufficiently acceptable. Her office – a dual occupation – door was open. She was typing something into her computer and looked up as I entered.

I stepped forward, gropeed behind me and locked the door. The lock clicked and the little blonde number almost held back the flinch at the click. Almost. But not fully. I moved towards her desk, looking her over. She was wearing a light knit blouse, blue and white stripes. Offsets her blonde hair well, my-my. Smallish breasts, prominent nipples, yumm. Long black trousers with a simple belt. Low glitz count. All this as I was walking to her desk.

She rose, looked me in the eye, smiled and said “Peep!”

The flush of anger rose again – my face burned, my ears too. She was taunting me. I stepped forward, towards her, and she brought her hands up, almost to defend herself. Almost in prayer. Ah, so very convenient. So very helpful. I grabbedher wrists and pulled her towards me. She tried to resist. Pull back. Through clenched teeth, moaned something like a “Noooo…” But her eyes held mine and a sneering little smile stayed at the corner of her mouth.

“Your safety word is Kalahari,” I whispered in her ear, inhaling the scent of her hair, “And now – not a peep out of you.” “Peep!” came the answer, immediate and stubborn. Ok, that’s it!

I pulled her again, away from her seat, towards the desk. She struggled but came. “I am going to let go your hand for a second,” I grunted, “and I really mean it — not a peep, or I will punish you.” “Peep,” was the only answer.

Right. I twisted her around, bending her over the desk edge, pulling her hands behind her and pinioning her wrists. Her bum stuck out, very exclusively. How lucky that the office doors and walls have no windows. But the thin walls, well, that’s a problem. Still, I trusted to the late hour and the new floor.

“You want to peep again, eh miss?” my voice sounded hoarse in my own ears. “Peep!” came the answer. I pinned her harder to the table and, raised my free hand and whacked her bum. She flinched, a small “Oh!” escaping her lips. But immediately, she followed with a “Peep!” I whacked her again, feeling a small warm wave travel down my hand and towardss my thighs. There was a momentary imprint of my hand on her trouser material – a lighter spot on the trousers’ black.

I did not even both waiting for another sound out of her, instead raising my hand yet again and bringing it sharply down, twice – once on the far bum cheese and once on the near. “Oh, oh!” she gasped, “peep!”

“You are a stubborn little brat,” I said in her ear, “keep it up. Just keep it up.” My hand keep a stead cadence, rising and falling on her bum cheeses. She tried to wriggle free, but I held her down, squeezing her wrists harder. “You, little miss,” I grew quietly, “are not going anywhere. But if you continue wriggling…” She weaved herhips sideways, back and forth, could she be trying to make contact?

“Oh would you, now?” I slid my free hand under her shoulders, over hear bloom, over her breasts – squeezing a nipple through the weave and twisting it (“Oh! oh!”) and down her belly, to her belt-buckle. Working that was more difficult, with one hand. I had to pull her up, against me. She ground against my thighs, making me harder and hotter. But I got the buckle open, then popped a button and pulled her zipper down. “No, please, oh please, no…” she breathed as I pulled the trousers down her legs, just enough to expose two very nicely rounded cheeses, already some what ruddy. She wore small black knickers with small flowering patterns which only very partially hid her lips. I pinched one of her bum cheeses between my thumb and finger, watching the spot briefly whiten and become redder yet.

“And now, miss, you will learn the power on your backside. Or should it be `of the darkside’.” My hand rose and fall, leaving an imprint on a bum cheese. The slap was quite a bit louder on her bare bum, I thought, let’s hope that by this time the office is already empty. She gasped and tried to wriggle her hips, trying to get closer to me and reduce my swing space. My hand’s imprint slowly flushed to red.

I pressed her hands harder to her back, holding her down more strongly. She gave one more wriggle, the subsided. Measuring the distance, I whacked each of her bum cheats three or four times, in rapid successions. She just moaned and grunted quietly at the first two or three, but then started begging in a whisper, “Oh, please sir, not so hard. Oh, please!”

Little did that help her. My hand steadily rose and fell a few more times, altering until her begging changed into little quiet whimpers, one to a whack. Finally, I rested my hand on her glowing bum, slowly caresing it, enjoying its reddish and imprinted curve. I could almost feel her pulse under her ruddy skin. Her whimpers faded at mycaress.

I let my hand wander over her bum, gently. Her body, her hands were starting to relax in my grip. Her breathing slowly became less audible. I continued to cares her bum, then broke contact. She flinched, tensing her body for the whack. “You are learning, young miss,” I laughed. “But now is not yet the time for that… again.” And I let my hand descend on her bum, gently and caressingly.

She breathed easier and I let my hand wander over her bum, trailing a gentle finger over the swollen cheats, over the flowery knickers. She frozen as my fingers reached her lips, so delightfully nestled between her bum cheats. Her knickers were wet, the dark cotton masking the wet spot. I slid my hand under the elastic material, enjoying the feel of her fleshy lips, wet and slick, against my fingers. Her excited scent wafted to my nose.

As soon as my fingers brushed against her lips, she started undulating her hips, brushing her wet lips against my fingers. I pulled my hand back and down, pulling the knickers down her legs. Her lips, pink and already parted slightly, glistened with wetness. I licked my own lips – how I longed to knee behind her and lick her slickness. Instead, my fingers played over her lips, parting them, shallowly dipping into her. I pulled her closer to me, letting her hip grind against my already erect cock, straining against my trousers.

I pushed back, against her hip. She wiggled her hips, nudging it, grinding harder against it. “One more peep out of you, Julia,” I whispered in her ear, “and your bum will burn from more than just my hand.”