He had warned her once: “Watch your language, Nina.”
She had rolled her eyes and nodded. Yes she would, she was sorry. He’d heard it all before, but he wanted to believe her. He had invited his boss and her husband over, and he wanted her to make a good impression; a promotion was not on the table yet, but he wanted all the chances he could get. So Nina had been told to behave. So far, so good.
His boss was sat on the sofa, enjoying a glass of sparkling wine and enjoying a handful of almonds. Nina had gone to the kitchen to keep an eye on the roast and get another bottle of cava. He poured his boss’ husband a glass of red wine —finishing the bottle— and started talking about rugby. Scotland, he argued, was past due for a comeback and—
“Oh shit!” he heard coming from the kitchen with a loud noise of broken glass.
He blushed and excused himself immediately. He got to the kitchen, where Nina was squatting over the broken glass with a dustpan and a brush.
“What happened?” he asked
“What do you think?” she shrugged, “The fu… I mean, the glass fell, and it broke. It’s what tends to happen when glass falls…”
“Nina…” he warned “Watch your tone…”
She said nothing and pushed the last bits of glass in the pan, then got up to empty it in the bin. She adjusted her tight skirt and looked up at him shyly.
“It’s just a glass… But…”
She lowered her voice “But I’ll watch my mouth… Sir…”
“Good girl. You know what will happen if you don’t…”
They went back to the living room. and resumed the vacuous small-talk as if nothing had happened. The radio was on, some easy listening station, and a pleasant smell was coming from the kitchen.
He looked at her pouring herself another glass of bubbly and raised an eyebrow. She caught his expression and mouthed a “What?” while opening her eyes wide and shaking her head a little. She put the bottle down and emptied half of her glass in one gulp.
Distracted, he asked the husband to repeat what he’d just said when Nina spilled her glass all over her new, cotly dress.
“Shit, shit shit!” she cried, immediately getting up and patting herself down. His boss was looking at him quizzingly. He got up.
“Come here, sweetheart,” he said, “Go to the bathroom, I’ll get you some clothes…”
She did as she was told and he followed her to their en-suite bedroom after apologizing profusely and making sure his guests had all they needed. He got in and closed the door.
“Nina?” he called, softly.
She came out of the bathroom in a tank-top and her panties. She was blushing and kept her eyes down.
“I… I’m sorry, Sir…”
He sat on the bed and beckoned her over.
“No… Please… Sir… Love… Your boss, they…”
“Don’t make me ask you again, Nina,” he said firmly, and with a little nod, she came and wrapped herself over his knees. He immediately grabbed her pink panties and pulled them up in a painful wedgie, revealing the little that they covered. The slaps fell, hard and relentless, and soon she began softly crying and whispering little “sorries” in between sobs. Her bottom turned pink, then red, then a bright crimson as he poured spank after spank on it. Mindful of his boss waiting and the roast about to be cooked, he stopped and grabbed her hair, bending her head backwards and whispering in her ear.
A few minutes later they were both back in the living-room, where no comment was made and the rest of the evening went by with no incidents.
A week later, he received an email from his boss, praising him for his people skill and how he knew how to handle troublesome elements. She praised him over the discipline he had been showing in his work, and the firm hand he showed in negotiation. She was offering him a promotion.
She had added a post-scriptum : Thank your lovely wife for the opportunity she gave me to appreciate your dedication.