Submitting to the Shadow (Kindred Tales)

He smelled good too—which was definitely something she didn’t want to notice. A cool scent, like the sea in winter and under that, a dark, alien spice which made her tingle in sensitive areas when she breathed it in.

“I see,” he said again, looking down at her. “Does this mean you’re admitting your first denial about being hung-over was a lie?”

Sammi felt her mouth going dry as her knees trembled under her professional black pencil skirt.

“I…I don’t…” She licked her lips. “I never said—”

Roark raised a hand to stop her.

“Tread carefully, Samantha. The punishment will be more severe if you compound your first lie with another.”

“What—you’re saying you want to punish me now?” Sammi’s eyes widened and she took a step back, her thighs hitting the edge of his desk and jostling some paperwork there.

“I most certainly do,” Roark said sternly. “I won’t tolerate dishonesty from you—not even in small particulars, Samantha. And I also won’t allow you to come to work and be involved in my research when you’re at less than one hundred percent mental acuity. Coming to work hung over and lying about it are both unacceptable behaviors which deserve a punishment.”

“But I can’t let you—I mean, you can’t do that!” Sammi blurted. “You can’t spank me.”

“According to the contract you signed, I certainly can,” Roark pointed at the thick document she still held in trembling hands. “Or would you like to be let out of it? Do you find the job not to your liking?”

“I hardly know—I’ve only been doing this ‘job’ for half a day! You know, I’m a professional!” Sammi exclaimed—she was losing her fear and disbelief and getting really angry now. “I have advanced degrees in my field! I didn’t work my ass off in grad school to come to your lab and bend over your knee and let you spank me!”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Actually, you will be bent over my desk,” he rumbled with deceptive mildness. “Unless you prefer my knee?”

“No, I don’t prefer your knee! I don’t prefer to be spanked anywhere at all!” Sammi exclaimed.

“Very well.” Roark went to the door of his office and threw it open for her. “Then you may leave. Good day, Samantha.”

Sammi stared in appalled silence at the open door and then up at her boss. She literally had no idea what to say. She’d never even imagined such a scenario when she took this job—it was unthinkable. For a moment, she wondered if she was dreaming.

“Go on,” Roark nodded at the open door. “Please leave. I’ll send you a credit slip for the hours you’ve worked today along with your termination notice.”

“But…” Sammi’s mouth was dry as she remembered the pictures on her phone and the note on the counter of her house back in Tampa. It would also look really bad on her résumé to have worked only four hours at a job with the prestigious Commander Roark before being fired. “But I need this job!” she blurted out.

“All right, then.” Roark closed the door and walked back to loom over her. “In that case, you’d better bend over my desk and raise your skirt.”

“I…you can’t…” But it appeared that he could. The question was—was she going to let him?

Lifting her chin, Sammi glared up into those strange, stern eyes. Roark looked back at her, unflinching and it felt to Sammi like he was looking into her very soul. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she could feel her cheeks getting hot. She was determined not to be intimidated but there was something about his stern demeanor that did something to her. As she looked at him, she felt a strange tightening in her lower belly—a heat between her thighs that hadn’t been there before.

Wait…was this strange scenario with her boss actually turning her on?

Don’t be stupid! Sammi told herself angrily. Of course it’s not turning you on! He’s being an overbearing asshole, demanding you let him spank you for some minor infraction! This is crazy—this is wrong! This is ridiculous.

But no matter how she described the predicament she found herself in, she couldn’t think of any way out of it other than to let Roark spank her.

Clenching her hands into fists, she bent stiffly over the desk, bracing herself against its edge.

“Very good,” Roark murmured. “But I believe I told you to pull your skirt up, Samantha. And have the goodness to remove your lab coat as well, please.”

“Can’t believe I’m doing this!” Sammi muttered to herself as she rose and took off her white lab coat in quick, jerky motions. She tossed it over to her workstation, where it hit the chair and slithered to the floor with a rustling sound. Then she grabbed her black pencil skirt and began to yank it up, baring first the backs of her thighs, and then her black lace panties.