The Billionaire's Curvy ConquestBy: Lydia Layne
His eyes traveled downward to the small scrap of matching lace that barely covered my mound. Although he couldn’t see the opening, based on his list, we both knew that, further down, the lace parted.
If I moved my legs apart even a few inches...well, let’s just say that nothing below my waist would be left to the imagination.
Reaching in to one the shopping bags, Mr. Reed pulled out the leather paddle, holding it in one hand while slapping it against the other.
“I can see that you are excellent at following directions, Miss James,” he said, the bark in his voice replaced with a slightly softer tone. “It’s a shame that you must still be punished for your tardiness. Perhaps a stern paddling will teach you to be on time.”
I swallowed hard, my body trembling with fear and something else: unbridled lust. This assignment had turned extremely personal and I was suddenly wet with desire for Mr. Reed.
“Take your hair down,” he instructed, still slapping the paddle against his hand.
I tugged at the elastic band that held my makeshift bun in place and my long blonde hair was released in a cascade of waves across my shoulders and down my back.
I watched as his lips curled up faintly, an almost-smile that made me tingle all over.
Putting the paddle on his desk, Mr. Reed reached down and retrieved a black scarf from one of the shopping bags. He stood and closed the short distance between us.
“Turn around,” he said, a quiet command.
I obeyed, not knowing or caring what he had planned.
For six months I had worshipped Mr. Reed from afar. In this moment, with my heart racing from his nearness, I would have gladly done anything he asked.
He leaned forward and I felt his warm breath on my neck.
“You’re a very beautiful young woman, Miss James,” he whispered. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew I had to have you. Here, like this. Under my control.”
His words made me tingle and my skin erupted in gooseflesh. “The moment you first saw me?”
He reached over and tied the scarf snugly across my eyes.
“You were flirting with the courier as you signed for a package. Your laughter filled the quiet lobby, catching my attention as I left the building. At first, I didn’t see your face, only your profile, which highlighted your womanly curves. You had your hair down that day.”
He put his lips against my ear and lowered his voice even further. “You should always wear your hair down, Miss James.”
I remembered that day clearly because the courier had asked for my phone number. I had only been working at Reed Technologies for a few weeks and it was my third day pulling the late receptionist shift in the lobby.
That day, I was so wrapped up in the courier’s attention that I didn’t see Mr. Reed exit the building...or admire my curves.
“I read your essay, Miss James.”
“What?” The comment caught me completely off guard.
“The one about being a plus-size woman in a corporate world obsessed with thinness.”
I wrote that essay a year or so ago after a promotion I had earned was given to a less qualified, model-thin coworker. It was published in a very obscure literary journal that specialized in emotional, first person stories about the pain and pleasures of life.
I was beginning to sense that there was a lot more to this man than money and sex appeal. I was also beginning to think that it was Mr. Reed who selected me for this assignment rather than Alice.
“You read Personal Pain, Personal Pleasure?” I asked.
“I read a lot of things, Miss James.”
Blindfolded and dumbstuck, I sensed Mr. Reed moving away from me and heard him clearing things from his desk.
“Turn around, Miss James,” he instructed, taking my arm and guiding me forward. “It’s time for your punishment. Lean forward, across my desk.”
“I’m sorry, sir?” I heard his words, but wasn’t quite sure if I understood them correctly.
Was he going to spank me with the paddle?
“Lay your upper body across my desk,” he repeated sternly, as if he were talking to a disobedient child.
Doing as instructed, I felt the cold wood on my bare belly, which sent an icy fear flowing through my veins.
With the front edge of the desk braced against my padded abdomen, I grasped the far edge with my hands.
“I will not tolerate tardiness, do you understand, Miss James?”
Mr. Reed was slapping the paddle against his hand again and I clenched my fingers around the edge of the desk to secure my grip in preparation of what was coming.
“Yes, sir,” I replied, my voice shaking.
I hadn’t been spanked since I was a small child and had no idea what to expect when Mr. Reed slapped the paddle against my ass, which was only partially covered by lace.