I quickly emailed him again. "That's the one, thanks. We need to get some action on this, immediately." I sent the message and watched with amusement as he read it and raised his head, eyes staring heavenward in despair. He did well, though, my little man, and without delay began to beat his meat for me. He would know, of course, that I would expect this to culminate in him coming for me, spraying his seed all over. Our previous "engagements" had ended with him covering his shirts with his come, and I suspected that Mr Loverman would have had to increase his clothing allowance.

He continued to perform for me for about a minute, and I was very satisfied with his progress, until all of a sudden he stopped and dived for his trousers, yanking them up and sitting forward in his seat. As I watched, annoyed but amused, the reason for his panic became evident, when Joanna, his secretary appeared at his desk. He looked seriously flustered as he tried to deal with her, his chair hard against the desk so that his lower body, with trousers still undone and cock standing proud and free, was concealed beneath it.

Turning once more to my laptop, I sent him another message. "This will need more work. Can you stay behind after work tonight?"

And so it was that a chastened Mr Loverman stood before my desk at half past five that evening.

"I'm not very pleased, Mr Loverman," I said coolly. "I gave you an instruction, and you failed to complete it."

"But Joanna 3;"

"Oh Mr Loverman, don't waste my time with silly excuses. You didn't comply with my instruction, did you?"

"No," he mumbled morosely.

"Pardon?"

"No, I didn't."

"I think I'll have you call me Miss. Like a schoolchild. That's what you're like, isn't it, a naughty schoolchild?"

"Yes, miss."

"And naughty people have to be punished don't they?"

His eyes opened like a pair of compact discs, round and wide, horror-struck, the meaning of what I had said immediately evident to him.

"No," he said.

"Miss!" I hissed at him. "And you're not in a position to refuse me. Trousers down." He didn't move, petrified by shock. "NOW!" I roared. I can do a good roar when I need to. Instantly, he obeyed, and began unbuckling his trousers in front of me for the second time that day. I knew that the punishment itself would be humiliating enough for Mr Loverman, but I wanted to stretch out the build up as long as possible: the knowledge of what is about to happen, the helpless realisation of the indignity ahead, is equally difficult to bear as the punishment itself.

"You deserve this, don't you?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Why?"

"For not doing as you told me, Miss."

"And what sort of people get punished?"

"Naughty ones, Miss."

"You've been naughty, haven't you?"

"Yes I have, Miss."

"I think, in that case, that you ought to ask me very nicely to deal with you." He paused, uncertainly.

"Please Miss," he said, "I've been naughty, and I need punished."

"That's not asking."

"Please Miss, I've been naughty. Will you punish me?"

"Yes of course I will. Come here, Mr Loverman."

The final indignity for him came when he had to shuffle towards me, his trousers and underpants around his ankles, preventing him from walking. Mutely, he hirpled towards me.

"You're going over my knee," I said, "like a naughty child. Get to it." Mr Loverman's cock was semi-rigid, and I felt it burrow into me as he folded himself over my lap. "If you get any spunk on my skirt," I warned him, "you won't be able to sit on your arse for a month."

Silently, he settled himself on my lap, and I was faced with the naked buttocks of Mr Loverman, his helpless body draped over me, awaiting its fate. A thrill of excitement burst through me: it's not every day you have a senior colleague spreadeagled naked across your thighs. I placed my hand on his right buttock and caressed it idly. He was a bit flabby, with a few red spots scattered around, and a slight dusting of hair camouflaging the pasty white sheen of his skin.

"This will hurt you a lot more than it hurts me," I promised, and delivered the first resounding smack. It stung my hand, a shock quivering up my arm, and I began to question the truth of what I had just said: that was sore. Mr Loverman let out an anguished yell, though, and I was satisfied that I had delivered a suitably severe blow. "Shut up," I cautioned. "I don't want to hear your voice. No-one asked you to say anything. Any more noise and I'll add ten more strokes. Clear?"

"Yes Miss," he replied.

"That's another ten, then. You said something after I'd told you not to, didn't you?"

"Yes, Miss, but 3;"

"And that's another ten, isn't it?" This time he said nothing. I waited for a moment. "How dare you not answer me when I ask you something. That'll be ten more for insolence." I delighted in the catch-22 I had placed him: damned if he did speak, damned if he didn't. "Okay, then, I think we'll make it fifty. I'm buggered if I'm using my hand, though. It hurt like hell. This ruler will do."

I brought the ruler down hard on his left buttock, and a rifling crack echoed around the room. His arse quivered, and instantly a thick red line, a perfect imprint of the ruler, appeared on it, growing progressively darker and redder. Mr Loverman's body tensed, his buttocks clenching hard, but he made no noise. Emboldened, I gave him another, harder swat, and another, and another.

"I hope you're counting, Mr Loverman."

"That's five, Miss."

"Good. You'd better shout out the score aloud after every smack, to keep us right."

I administered a couple more stinging blows, and by now his bottom was livid red. I was really getting into the swing of things, and was about to deliver my next smack when the door of my office swung open.

There, framed in the doorway, a look of amazement on her face, stood Helen, the cleaner.