Late Again: OTK Spanking at the Office

Sofia_xx
3 days ago
3 min read

It wasn’t my first warning.Or even my second. But I still showed up to the office ten minutes late—again. Hair wet. Coffee half-full. The usual rushed apology ready on my lips. He didn’t even look up from his laptop.“Close the door,” he said.

I froze in the doorway. It was early. The rest of the team hadn’t arrived yet. But still—my stomach tightened. The tone in his voice wasn’t frustrated. It was something worse.

I shut the door gently, heart already fluttering.

“I told you there would be consequences if you were late again.”

“I know,” I mumbled, dropping my bag on my desk. “It’s just—traffic, and I—”

He stood up. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just stood, walked to the conference table in the center of the open space, and sat down in one of the chairs. His legs spread, elbows resting on his thighs. And then he looked at me.

“Come here.”

I blinked. “Wait. What are you—”

“Now.”

My legs moved before my brain did. I walked over, heart pounding, my body already tingling with the anticipation I didn’t want to admit was there. When I reached him, he took my wrist and guided me around to his right side.

“You don’t need a calendar reminder. You need discipline.”

And then, in one smooth motion, he pulled me over his knee.

I gasped.

The office was quiet—but not that quiet. If someone walked in, they’d see everything. My skirt had already ridden up as I bent forward, and before I could say a word, his hand landed.

SMACK.

“Ow—wait!”

But he didn’t stop.

SMACK. SMACK.

The sting bloomed fast, hot and deep across the seat of my skirt. My legs kicked slightly, but he pinned me easily with one arm across my lower back.

“This is what being late earns you.”

SMACK.

The spanks were firm, rhythmic, deliberate. Not playful. Not light. Real punishment—OTK spanking in its most humiliating form.

And I was getting it in our office.

SMACK.

“You’ve tested me enough times,” he said, voice steady. “Now it’s my turn.”

SMACK.

“Are you going to be late again?”

“No, Sir!”

Then he did it. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my panties, and tugged them down. Slowly. Deliberately. Inch by inch, the lace peeled away, exposing my already-warmed skin to the open air.

I squirmed. “Please…”

He paused just long enough to whisper, “If you’re old enough to be late, you’re old enough to be bare.”

My panties slid all the way down to mid-thigh, and the next smack landed directly on my bare bottom with my private parts open and exposed. I yelped. The sound echoed across the conference room’s hard walls.

CRACK. CRACK.

Alternating cheeks. Firm, stinging smacks that made my thighs tremble. My breathing turned shallow, hips twitching with every swat.

“You're going to count now.”

“Y-yes, Sir…”

SMACK.

“One…”

The humiliation wasn’t just the spanking—it was the idea that someone could walk in any second. That I was sprawled across his lap like a naughty schoolgirl in the very place I gave presentations and joined Zoom meetings.

SMACK.

“Two…”

By eight, my voice was shaky. By ten, I was clinging to the edge of the table, cheeks burning from more than just the spanking. He paused then. His hand rested gently on the sore flesh, rubbing in slow circles.

“Stand up.”

I obeyed, breathless, eyes glassy. My skirt still hitched up, panties askew, skin glowing red.

He looked up at me. Calm. Collected. As if he’d just corrected a typo, not spanked my ass raw in the middle of the workplace.

“Go sit at your desk,” he said. “And keep your panties down for the first hour. As a reminder.”

My jaw dropped. “Someone might see!”

“Then maybe you’ll think twice before you’re late again.”

And with that, he returned to his laptop.

I walked—slowly—back to my desk, the fabric of my skirt doing nothing to hide the heat in my bottom. My heart still raced. My skin tingled. I sat down carefully, biting back a wince.The punishment was over.

But the lesson? It had just begun.