Investment Spanking
by Fiona Florence
Copyright 2012 Fiona Florence
Smashwords Edition
Stephanie Coleridge had worked hard all of her adult life, and the reward had finally come when the board had seen fit to promote her to CEO of the one of the world's largest investment banks. With offices in half a dozen skyscrapers, two homes and an eye-watering salary, the only thing that she didn't have was a husband. The long hours and the intense competition meant that she had never quite got round to having much of a social life or relationships, and since she couldn't be seen to fraternize too closely with anyone junior to her in the office or with competitors, that ruled out anyone she might meet.
In her mid forties, with long, wavy natural blonde hair and voluptuous curves, Stephanie made sure to dress in plain suits and prim white blouses at work, taking care not to give the impression she had used her looks to get ahead. Her one concession to glamour was that she always wore exquisite and expensive lingerie and stockings under her suits, but none of her colleagues were aware of that luxury. Her lonely life left her frustrated, and she had long wished for a man to share her bed, but with her lifestyle, it just wasn't an option. There had been a few brief flings years ago, but nothing within the last decade, and she dreamed of meeting a man who would give her the pleasure she so desired.
Working late one Friday night, she glanced down from the window of her thirtieth floor office, sighing at the sight of people on their way to restaurants, bars and nightclubs. The rest of the building had emptied as the sun set and now, at nine in the evening, she was probably alone in the tall office building apart from the security guards at the front desk. From her lofty position, she could see the tents of anti-capitalist protesters in the nearby park, with the flames of bonfires illuminating the groups of young activists. They had been camping out for weeks now, occasionally waving placards outside the offices of nearby banks, and there had been eggs thrown at her car on more than one occasion. Seemingly mostly bored college students, they had looked scruffy and unwashed in the brief glimpses that Stephanie caught of them on her way to and from work. Smiling at the thought of their prospects when compared to hers, Stephanie turned back to her computer and buried herself in her work, focussing on the Q2 market statistics, comparing charts and making occasional notes.
When the landline phone on her desk rang, she jumped, not expecting anyone to be calling at this time. Her few acquaintances would never bother her at work, and her family only ever used her mobile. Her PA having gone home hours ago, she reluctantly picked up the phone, wondering who else would be here this late.
“Miss Coleridge, this is front desk security!” The male voice on the other end sounded out of breath and panicked, hardly the professional image the company would want from their staff.
“What on earth do you want?” Stephanie snapped down the phone at the man, cross at being interrupted, “I'm trying to work here!”
“It's the protesters, Miss Coleridge,” the security guard replied, speaking fast and stumbling over his words. “Some of them have broken in to a side entrance, and there are a crowd trying to get in the front! I've called the police, but there are already protesters in the building! You're the only person still here, so you'd better lock your office and sit tight until the police-” The phone abruptly went dead, leaving Stephanie listening to the sound of a dial tone, the office otherwise completely silent.
Standing up, pressing her forehead to the glass of the floor to ceiling window and looking down the side of the building, she could see a large group of people milling around the front entrance far below, some of them holding placards. She couldn't hear a sound from the street below through the thick glass, but as she watched, the crowd seemed to thin, and since she couldn't see anyone leaving, she realised that they all must be coming into the building. Hurriedly walking across her large office, she locked the door, glad that the only other rooms on this floor were meeting rooms, so hopefully the protesters would get bored wrecking things on the floors below and the police could catch them there. After all, she was thirty floors up, and it seemed unlikely that any of them would be that dedicated!
Trying to convince herself that everything would be fine, Stephanie sat back down at her computer, but found that she couldn't concentrate, her eyes straying to the windows in the wall of her office that looked out onto the dark corridor, and the dim glow of the elevator entrance that she could just make out. Sighing, she gave up on working, realising that she couldn't talk herself out of being scared, and shut down her computer. Turning off the lights in her office, and ensuring that her mobile phone was lying on the desk nearby, she leaned back in her leather chair, trying to relax and deciding to wait for the police to clear the building.
With a slight start, she jerked awake, embarrassed to realise that she had actually fallen asleep in her office when there was the threat of protesters running riot in the building. Glancing out of the window, she could see the flashing blue lights of police cars in the street down below, and smiled to herself, satisfied that things were safe now. She switched the lights back on in her office, then walked over to the door, stretching after the uncomfortable nap in her chair, reaching out to unlock the door to her office. Stephanie's hand was already on the lock when she blinked and realised that the elevator doors at the end of the corridor were opening. With the rest of the floor in darkness, her illuminated office would be obvious to anyone the moment they stepped out of the elevator, but the light switches were over by the desk, and she was at the door. Turning the lights off after someone had already seen them would make it even more obvious that someone was here, so she let go of the door lock, hastily running across her office, crawling beneath her desk, and hugging her stockinged knees to her chest, listening carefully for the sounds of an intruder.
Crouched under the black glass desk, Stephanie shivered with sudden fear as she heard the door rattle in its frame. There was silence for a moment, and she hoped that whoever was out there would just leave, but then there was a soft click, and the sound of the door opening. Cursing her stupidity, she realised that if the protesters had ransacked the security desk, they would have been able to find the duplicate keys to meeting rooms and executive offices that were kept there for safekeeping. Taking shallow breaths, she stayed absolutely still, hearing heavy footsteps on the soft carpet. The computer was off, so there was nothing to show that she was still here, perhaps the person would think that someone had left the lights on.
“I know you're in here,” a male voice said, and it took all Stephanie's willpower not to whimper with surprise. “Your mobile is on the desk, and you people never abandon your mobiles, so either you can come out, or I'll drag you out.”
Reluctantly clambering out from under the desk, Stephanie stood up, her chin held high but cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment at having forgotten her tell-tale mobile phone. The intruder was a tall well-built man, in his early twenties with messily spiked dark hair, wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that was tight over a muscled chest and flat stomach. “Well, well – look what we've got here. Someone high and mighty, cowering under a desk!”
“You're the one breaking the law,” spat Stephanie, “And the police are already inside the building, so you might as well just leave before you get into even more trouble!” She glared at him, wondering how quickly she could grab her phone and call the police. “Shouldn't you be busy breaking computers, painting slogans on windows or chaining yourself to company property?”
He shrugged, grinning at her, folding his muscled arms. “I'm happy right here, thanks!” He looked her up and down, his gaze travelling slowly down her body, taking in the heavy wool suit, the prim blouse buttoned to the collar, her dark-stockinged legs and high heels. “Aren't you going to try to call the police?”
His eyes glinted with a challenge, and Stephanie had not reached the top of the company by backing down from challenges. Keeping her eyes on the intruder, she reached out for the landline phone on her desk, daring him to stop her with deliberately slow movements, assuming he would back down. To her surprise, he darted forwards and just as her hand touched the phone handset, he grabbed her wrist firmly, tugging it away from the phone, using his other hand to knock her mobile off the desk, sending it flying. Pulling her wrist up, he yanked her shoulder with his other hand, spinning her round and pushing her against the glass window before she had a chance to catch herself.
Gasping as she slammed into the window, Stephanie was pressed against the cool glass, her right wrist held firmly behind her back, the tall man moving to stand close behind her, his grip strong and unyielding around her slim wrist. “You're Stephanie Coleridge,” he said softly, “You're the CEO – I've read about you in the news.”
Wriggling in his grasp, one cheek pressed against the window, hoping that somehow one of the police officers far below would catch sight of her, Stephanie tried to break free, but to no avail. “You read the newspapers,” she said sarcastically, “well done! So who are you, and what do you want? Or are you just going to quote some silly slogans at me? Down with the bankers, that sort of thing?”
“Not exactly,” he said, the grip of his fingers shifting slightly, “I thought I'd just teach you the error of your ways...”
Before she could think up a suitable response, he tugged on her wrist, this time pulling her towards her desk, hooking his leg around her ankles and then pushing her hard, tripping her and forcing her down over the desk. With his hands on her, she didn't fall hard, but ended up with her chest against the desk, legs sprawled out, the toes of her high heels digging into the carpet. Pinning her left wrist behind her back, the man laughed, “I didn't think this would be so easy!”
“Get the hell off me!” Stephanie shouted at him, hoping that there might by now be someone else on the floor to hear. “Don't you dare touch me!” She struggled, kicking out with her legs, but he laughed again, easily dodging her flailing kicks, keeping hold of her wrist and holding her down, her breasts pressed against her desk, face next to her computer keyboard.
“This is what you get for being a banker!” He spoke the words harshly, then utterly shocked Stephanie by bringing his right hand down firmly across her bottom, spanking her hard, his hand slapping against the fabric of her skirt, making her squeal with pain and surprise. “This is for taking too many risks!” His hand slapped down again, “And this is for your bonus! And this is for firing people! And this is for not paying enough tax!” She cried out with each smack of his hand, humiliated at being treated like this in her own office, squealing and trying to wriggle free, kicking her legs, but all she succeeded in doing was kicking off her heels, half-lying across her desk, stockinged feet on the carpet.