Yes, Mr Larson and Other Filthy Stories Read online

  YES, MR LARSON

  Copyright © 2016 JJ HAYLE

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any other information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction, all names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  1. Yes, Mr Larson

  2. Happy Anniversary, darling

  3. A sandwich and a vanilla slice, please

  4. Fancy playing a round?

  5. If in doubt, whip it out

  6. Gang up on me

  7. Sexily ever after

  Acknowledgements

  For myself

  Just because…

  Layla sat in her boss’s office for the second time that week. She had been late again. Mr Larson was young—in his early twenties—but he was as fierce and unforgiving as a military drill sergeant and had the bearing of an old headmaster.

  “Miss Farrow, I thought when we spoke on Monday we had reached an agreement.” He bristled. “I thought I had gotten through to you that I will not tolerate your tardiness. You clearly have no respect for me, my company, or the position I have given you. It’s only Wednesday, and you are late again.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Layla replied. “I promise I’ll try harder. I’m holding down two jobs—I work in a bar in the evenings—and sometimes I’m exhausted.”

  “Why is that my problem? I pay you to do a job, and I expect you here on time to do it. If you cannot then, you must go. You’re fired, Miss Farrow.”

  “Please, sir. No,” Layla pleaded. “I really need this job. I promise I will be better. Please give me another chance.”

  “You lack discipline, Miss Farrow. You do not belong in my company. I expect my employees to be disciplined.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, her eyes cast down in embarrassment. “I’ll do anything. Please.”

  Mr Larson sat back in his chair and studied Layla. She felt his eyes on her, but she did not look up. “Perhaps I can give you another chance if you allow me to discipline you,” he said.

  Layla looked up sharply. “What do you mean, sir? A warning?”

  “Not a piece of paper, no,” he said sternly. “I mean the type of discipline that you will feel every time you sit down for a week. The type you will remember.”

  Layla felt confused.

  Did he mean a spanking? No. He can’t mean that.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I mean I will give your bottom a thorough beating. I’ll make it red and sore, and I will make you think twice about being late.”

  Layla felt horrified. Her mouth gaped open.

  He can’t be serious.

  “Consent to this punishment, and I will allow you to remain in my employ. Refuse and you are fired.”

  Layla felt sick. She didn’t want to be spanked, but she didn’t want to be dismissed either. She loved this job, and it paid well. If she didn’t have a mountain of debts, she could easily live comfortably on what Mr Larson paid her without her bar job. Without this job, she would be destitute. How could she get another job that paid so well? No one would take her on once they learned she had been fired and had no reference.

  Perhaps I do deserve to be punished.

  She had been late many times before he brought her to his office.

  “Will it hurt a lot?” she asked nervously.

  “It will hurt,” he said. “Though I will ensure it is not excessive. You will not have broken skin or scars.”

  How bad can it be? When it’s over, I can keep my job.

  “I consent, sir,” she replied, looking down at the desk.

  “Very good,” he said. “Return to your desk and then report to me at the end of the day when everyone has left, and I will administer your punishment.”

  “Yes, sir.” Meekly Layla left his office and returned to her desk.

  She sat on her chair. She could already feel her bottom burning at the thought of what was to come. She felt anxious, but she forced herself to concentrate on her work. She did not want to make her punishment worse by angering Mr Larson.

  The day went faster than usual, and Layla became increasingly filled with dread. She barely touched her lunch. She had managed to complete a lot of work and had secured a new client for the company, over her lunch break no less, who would bring in a few thousand extra each month. She hoped Mr Larson would be pleased, and he would ease off her a little.

  All too soon the work day ended, and everyone else left. She was alone in the office. She took a deep breath and stood up. She turned and walked slowly towards Mr Larson’s office and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” came the reply. Layla entered and stood in the doorway. “Miss Farrow, you’re on time for once. Take a seat, and I will talk you through your punishment.”

  Layla obeyed and sat in the chair opposite him.

  “Have you ever received a spanking before? Either for punishment or pleasure?”

  She shook her head. “No, sir.”

  “Well, usually I would deliver a set number of strokes with a cane, which you would count out. The cane is quite severe and would leave you with welts. As you are new to this practice, I will not cane you. Instead, I will spank you with my hand over your clothes at first and then on your bare bottom. This will give you the chance to adjust before I move on to hitting you with other implements.” He pointed to an array of paddles, whips, and straps he had laid out on the floor beside his desk. Layla swallowed. “You may stop the punishment at any time by saying the word red, but be warned, if I do not feel you have received adequate punishment, you will be fired. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good,” he said. He stood, removing his jacket and hanging it on his chair. He walked to a cupboard and removed a fold-up chair which he placed next to his desk. He sat down and patted his thigh. “Over my knee, Miss Farrow.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied. She stood anxiously for a moment before she awkwardly bent and lowered herself over his knees. She hung across his legs in a most undignified way and presented him with her bottom. She felt her face flush with embarrassment.

  What am I doing? I should just leave.

  She gasped as Mr Larson began to rain down smacks on her bottom. They were hard, and he covered her whole bottom and alternated between her cheeks. She grasped his calf and held him to stop herself from falling as she twitched under his blows.

  “You deserve this, Miss Farrow,” he said. “You have had this coming for a long time.”

  “Yes, sir,” she breathed heavily. “Thank you, sir.”

  He seemed to like that she thanked him and paused to rub his hand across her hot cheeks. “Stand up,” he said. “Remove your trousers and your underwear.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. She stood and felt her face burning with shame as she removed the lower half of her clothing. Mr Larson indicated for her to lie over his knees, and she complied.

  Layla moaned as the spanks stung her bare skin.

  Ouch. I don’t like this. I want him to stop.

  “That hurts,” she whimpered.

  “It’s supposed to hurt, Miss Farrow. What would be the point of punishment tha
t didn’t hurt?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, grasping his leg as his hand stung her cheeks harder. His blows got heavier, and she gritted her teeth.

  “Your bottom is getting nice and red,” he said, rubbing her cheeks.

  She moaned.

  Oh. I like that.

  His hand felt incredible as he rubbed her stinging skin. She raised her bottom into his hand to encourage him to do it more.

  “You’re here to be punished, Miss Farrow.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Stand up and bend over the edge of the desk.”

  “Yes, sir.” She obeyed his command and positioned herself over his desk. She lowered herself slightly onto her elbows with her palms flat on the desk.

  “You’re a good, obedient girl,” he said. “It is a shame you’re so tardy.”

  “I will learn my lesson, sir.”

  “Mmm, I hope you do. If not, then I will cane you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Layla looked behind her and saw Mr Larson pick up a leather riding crop from the floor. She turned her head sharply forward and braced herself.

  Mr Larson did not whip her hard as she expected. Instead, he gave her lots of short, sharp bites with the crop. It stung differently than his hand, and the bites covered her bottom before he started to hit the backs of her thighs. She moaned.

  That is actually pleasant.

  And then in between her thighs and very close to her sex.

  Layla burned with shame as she felt the moistness between her legs. She was laid over a desk receiving a beating from her boss, but she found the experience intensely erotic. She cursed her body its betrayal.

  How can this be erotic? It bloody hurts.

  Mr Larson rubbed her bottom and thighs, and Layla felt herself getting wetter, her juices trickling down her thighs.

  He is going to know.

  She raged at herself.

  Mr Larson rubbed his hand along the inside of her thighs and touched the wetness. “It looks like I am not striking you hard enough, Miss Farrow. I perhaps should have caned you after all. I will take care of this.”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered nervously. It already hurt. What was he going to do to her now? She looked backwards and saw that he had raised the thick, leather paddle. She cried out as it struck her hard over and over again. “Ouch, sir. That hurts. Please not so hard.”

  The blows continued, and Layla felt tears spring to her eyes as he beat her ass. “Please,” she whimpered.

  “Still aroused, Miss Farrow?” Mr Larson asked as he delivered heavy blows to her thighs.

  “No, sir,” she cried. “Please. It hurts.”

  “Say red then.” He lessened the weight of the strikes but continued to hit her.

  “I don’t want to be fired.”

  “Then accept it,” he said. “You are getting what you deserve.”

  “Yes, sir,” she sobbed. “Thank you, sir.”

  He stopped and rubbed her bottom. She stifled her moan this time. She did not feel aroused, but she did feel something. Something about submitting to this man. Something about allowing him to discipline her. She couldn’t put her finger on it and did not have time to process it as he began to beat her once more. This time with a short, leather strap. She shrieked as it hit her skin. It stung terribly, and she cried.

  “Please, sir. I’ve learned my lesson. I will be good from now on. I will be early every day.”

  The blows stopped, and Mr Larson rubbed her bottom as she sobbed from the pain. He moved to sit at his desk. She remained bent over, as he had not commanded her to move.

  “You may leave, Miss Farrow.” He lifted up a pen and completed a document without looking at her.

  “Yes, sir.” Layla stood quickly and picked up her clothes and shoes. “Thank you, sir.” She darted from his office and, collecting her bag from her desk, dashed to the ladies’ toilets.

  Layla stood in the toilets with her lower half still naked. She washed her face to rid it of the tears and looked in the mirror. Her make-up was a mess. She turned her bottom to face the mirror and angled her head so she peered to see it. She was shocked at how red it was. Her thighs were red, but her bottom glowed scarlet. She retrieved her phone from her bag and double clicked the home button to load the camera. She switched it to selfie and took an image of her bottom. Wow, she thought as she stared at the screen. She began to moisten again.

  She ignored her thoughts, cleaned and dried herself, reapplied her make-up, changed into her uniform for her bar job, and left the toilets. She was relieved not to encounter Mr Larson before she left the office and pleased to get outside in the fresh air. Well, the city air, but at least the cool breeze on her face was refreshing.

  Layla made her way straight to the bar. Usually, she would call somewhere for dinner before work, but she was out of time. She didn’t think Aaron would spank her, but she didn’t want to be late.

  Layla was exhausted when she returned to her flat after her bar shift. She was starving, having barely eaten that day, and she was so preoccupied with the earlier events that she had made lots of errors and had her pay docked to cover them. Her bottom was very sore, and every time she walked or bent down her skirt would rub against her tender skin. She was sure people standing close to her could feel the heat that emanated from her behind.

  It was after midnight, and Layla desperately wanted to sleep. She would habitually spend time watching TV when she got home, but she did not want to risk getting up late.

  After she wolfed down a couple of slices of toast, she went to her bedroom and began to undress. She couldn’t help glancing at her bottom in the mirror again. It was still red with flashes of purple where Mr Larson had bruised her. She took several photographs and felt her pussy burn as she looked through them. She was shocked at how turned on she felt at the sight of her bruised posterior. She rubbed her hands over it. It was hot and sore, but it was strangely pleasant.

  She let her hands roam between her thighs. Her clitoris was already swollen, and her pussy was wet. She had not felt so turned on in so long. Excitedly she searched through her underwear drawer for her vibrator, and after taking the batteries from the TV remote, she began to pleasure herself. She let the toy buzz against her clit as she imagined Mr Larson having his way with her. She imagined him finding the wetness on her thighs and dipping his fingers into her soaking sex. She imagined him finishing her spanking and unfastening his trousers and plunging his cock into her pussy and giving her a hard fuck—his skin slapping against her sore ass. She imagined him telling her to kneel before him and suck him when he had taken a seat at his desk.

  Layla moaned loudly as she made herself come. She had not orgasmed so well in a long time and still felt incredibly turned on. She ignored the temptation to play more and cleaned up to ready herself for sleep.

  She did sleep, and her dreams were full of Mr Larson. She dreamed she was late for work, and Mr Larson caned her in front of everyone in the office. She dreamed that he made her walk topless around the office and that the office members stared at her bare breasts as they worked, with some asking to feel them and suck on her nipples as she spoke on the phone.

  She shook herself awake.

  What on earth? Why am I dreaming all that?

  She looked at the time. It was six in the morning. She did not have to be up for another hour.

  At least, I won’t be caned.

  She did not dare go back to sleep. She got up to shower and looked at her blemished rear in the mirror. She lay back on her bed and began to play with herself again. She ignored her dreams about everyone in the office. She didn’t want them. She wanted Mr Larson. She wanted his hands on her ass. Perhaps she should be late. Maybe she could earn herself another beating. No, she was still too sore for that, but the thought brought her to a thundering climax. She still wanted more. She knelt on her bed and lowered herself onto her vibrator as she imagine
d riding Mr Larson. She rubbed frantically at her clit as her vibrator—Mr Larson’s cock—fucked her. She trembled as she came.

  She showered and dressed. She wore a skirt. Nothing too short, but a little pencil skirt that accentuated the curve of her behind. She did her hair and her make-up. She applied a little more make-up than usual and added a few more curls. She did not want it to be obvious, but she wanted to look nice for Mr Larson.

  Layla arrived at work early, only the cleaners were there. She made herself a coffee and sat at her desk enjoying the burning sensation she felt from her beaten skin pressing against her chair as Mr Larson arrived in the open plan office.

  “Good morning, Miss Farrow. It is nice to see you have taken note of our conversation yesterday.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied. “I have, sir.”

  “Good.” Sounding curious, he then added, “That Foster contract, where did you find them?”

  “During my lunch hour. I overheard Mr Foster talking to the sandwich shop owner about how he had lost his supplier, and I approached him.”

  “Ah.” He seemed impressed. “Well, good work.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Layla watched Mr Larson as he walked to his office. His buttocks looked toned in his trousers, and his jacket sat over his muscled shoulders. He was so handsome and so strong. He did not seem shy or embarrassed like Layla was. He was confident.

  Perhaps he always does it. Perhaps all the girls in the company have had a spanking from him. He does keep spanking implements in his office.

  The thought aroused Layla. She would love to watch him spank one of the other girls.

  She wondered if he had thought about her. Whether he had masturbated to the thought of her. Whether he wanted to take her.

  He must know I will obey him if he commands it. He knows he could have had me last night if he’d wanted to.

  He didn’t, though. He had only wanted to punish her. He wanted to teach her a lesson so she would be in work on time.