1. The Spanking Stories - #1: Overtime


    Date: 6/15/2016, Categories: BDSM, Author: Zenmackie, Source: LushStories

    Marcia Fischer, Head of Accounting, hated having to work late. She had always prided herself on her efficiency; if there was more work to be done than usual she just buckled down and got it done—even if it meant skimping on her lunch hour--and was out of the office at 5:00 sharp every day. She had run the entire accounting department on the same principles, accepting no excuses or slacking off from her subordinates. She had thought of herself as ‘no-nonsense’—and hadn’t cared what anyone else thought. She’d assumed that her employers appreciated her seven years of zealous devotion to duty and would reward her accordingly. Until today. Earlier that week a memo had been circulated confirming the company’s long-rumored merger with SatCorp, a much larger corporation. The memo had gone on to reassure everyone that despite the change in management everything else would continue on as before. Hah , thought Marcia, her fingers flying over the computer keyboard. Her supervisor had taken her aside late that afternoon and asked—practically in a whisper, it now seemed to Marcia—if she would mind working late, just this once. It seemed that the financial data involved in the merger was hopelessly tangled up and Marcia, as Head of Accounting, was the only one who could untangle it and we’re really under the gun here and you do understand, don’t you? Marcia, seething inwardly, had managed to smile and agree, with an appearance of graciousness. Thank God. Oh, I’ll untangle it, you bet , ...
    thought Marcia. They had no idea just how tangled things had been. Marcia sincerely doubted that they had noticed one particular flow-chart: the one illustrating how much the newly merged companies would save by eliminating certain redundancies. Such as Marcia’s entire department. A strand of Marcia’s shoulder-length black hair came loose from its clip at the back of her neck and hung in her face. She blew at it impatiently as she continued to type, but when it refused to get out of the way she stopped and with a huff of impatience trapped it under the clip again. No nonsense , she thought grimly, and bent over the keyboard again. She was doing what she’d been asked to do. Just not quite the way they expected. It had taken hours—it was now practically midnight—but now all of the financial data was completely organized. It was a thing of beauty, thought Marcia--almost like a symphony; each department a bold theme surrounded by the dancing melodies of cash-flow. Hundreds, thousands of them; a dazzling display. So dazzling, in fact, that surely no one would ever notice one lowly ostinato in her composition. Not much more than a steady, pulsing beat, really: a penny here, a decimal point there—a counterpoint to each and every transaction the joined companies would ever make in the future, flowing directly to an account she had set up in Barbados. Which was where she planned to retire—in, say, a month or so. Whenever management got up the nerve to break the news that Marcia and her ...
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