Dictate a letter

You get some work done while you think about how to discipline Meghan. After an hour, you call her into your office. She appears quickly.

"Yes, sir?" she asks demurely.

"I need you to type a letter for me. I'll send the address in your email," you tell her.

"Let me get something to write what you want, sir." She's getting the 'sir' right at least. You nod and let her go. Meghan returns in a minute with a pad and pencil.

"Okay, sir."

"Dear Mr. Walters, Here are the boilerplate sales contracts that you requested. I hope they meet with your approval. Paragraph."

"Wait, John. I mean sir. I can't write that fast," your secretary says as she's frantically finishing the sentences.

"You don't take shorthand, Meghan? And you made another mistake. Another punishment is necessary," you say.

"Oh, please, sir. I'm trying hard!" she complains.

"Not hard enough. Go close the door and stand next to the desk," you say as you scowl at her.

She does so and stands, her legs shaky, looking into the distance.

"Take off your dress," you order her.

"What, sir?" she asks, her voice full of tension.

"On top of your incompetence, are you deaf too? I said to take off your dress. Do it before I rip it off you," you say.

"But, sir, aren't you going to spank me?"

You stand and start to reach for her dress with the intent to tear it off. Meghan's eyes go wide and she quickly grabs the hem and pulls it up. You grin to see that her slit is covered with a very sparse amount of red pussy hair. Her slim waist with slightly rounded belly is quite sexy, and her modest tits are covered by a sexy red bra that matches her thong. As the dress goes over her head, you notice that she is blushing profusely. She so cute when she's flustered. She drops the dress on the floor and stands looking at you with her hands to her side.

"Now take off the bra. Leave the shoes on."

"But sir!" she says, blushing even brighter.

"We can continue with your punishment or I can fire you. It's your choice."

Meghan reaches behind her back to unsnap the bra. This pushes her tits out very nicely. You smile slightly. It falls off her shoulders and Meghan takes it off the rest of the way. You get a glimpse of her lovely round breasts capped by darker areolas and fat nipples before she covers her tits with one arm and covers her slit with the other hand. Either it's a little chilly in the room or she's excited.

"Put your arms down and pick up your notepad and pen. We will continue the dictation," you say with a stern edge in your voice.

Meghan does as she's told and picks up the notepad and pen, waiting for you. She shifts nervously from foot to foot. You look her up and down, really liking the look of her in just heels.

"Good. Now read back what you have." You stand in front of her.

Meghan clears her throat. "Dear Mr. Walters, Here're the contracts that you wanted. I hope you approve. Paragraph."

You reach out and pinch one of her nipples.

"Ow! Don't!" she squawks.

"That was not what I said. I said, 'Here are the boilerplate sales contracts that you requested. I hope they meet with your approval. Paragraph.' Never use contractions in business correspondence. Didn't they teach you that in school?"

"No, John, I mean, Sir." She winced at the mistake.

You pinch her other nipple.

"Ow! Sir!" she shrieks. Then you pinch them both and twist them. "Ooooow!"

"Stop the outbursts and the mistakes and I'll think about not pinching you. Now, correct your notes." You pause, while she scribbles on her pad, frequently glancing up at you with wide eyes.

"Is boilerplate two words or one?" she asks, grimacing.

"Good question. One word." She grins and writes some more. You notice a definite aroma of a horny woman wafting from your secretary. You think she likes being humiliated by you. She stops and look expectantly at you.

"Now, second paragraph. Next time you are in town, Jack, my wife will make dinner. Laurel loved serving you last time." Meghan stares at you a second and then continues writing. "Sincerely, John Chandler. Now, read it back to me."

Meghan fidgets and you notice her nipples are still very fat and wrinkled. The room is far too warm for her to be chilly, so she must be turned on. She takes a deep breath and starts shakily. "Dear Mr. Walters, Here are the boilerplate sales contracts that you requested. I hope they meet with your approval. Paragraph. Next time you are in town, Jack, my wife will make dinner. Laurel loved servicing you last time. Paragraph. Sincerely, John Chandler." She gasped and blush redder than before. Almost crying, Meghan blurts out, "Oh, Sir, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to say that your wife serviced Mr. Walters. Please don't pinch my nipples, sir."

You chuckle and say, "But, Meghan. Laurel did service Jack Walters. She made us dinner and then gave us both blowjobs. If that's not servicing, I don't know what is. Get dressed, fix your notes, and type that up. Send me a copy in email before noon."

"Oh, thank you, sir!" She makes a quick note and then bends over to pick up her dress. You give her a slap on the ass, which makes her squeal and stand up straight. She throws the dress quickly over her head and straightens it as she scurries out of the office.