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Ms. Tibbs

By: Robert Earl



I didn't know how old she was, even though the first thing I did upon my promotion to office manager was to pull everyone's personnel files. Her date of birth wasn't listed, and I didn't want to let her know I'd been snooping by asking for it out of the blue. Let's say she was forty. No, be kind, thirty six.

I did find out her marital status, though. Single. Not divorced, just single. I felt a little bad for her to tell the truth, all those years alone. Perhaps it was because she seemed to spend her whole life behind her little veneered desk, manning reception like a German sentry on the Berlin wall. Or perhaps it was why she spent her whole life behind her little veneered desk, manning reception like a German sentry on the Berlin wall.

Chicken and egg. Go figure.

Of course I don't suppose she'd been much of an oil painting even at twenty one. Behind her thick rimmed glasses she had the long, flat face of a horse. What's more her mouth always seemed to be pursed in slight disapproval of something, usually the person she was talking to. She wasn't exactly racked either, if you know what I mean, although at least she hadn't run to fat. 

So that was Ms. Gloria Tibbs. Middle aged, efficient and alone. A time bomb, in other words.

Some people might have rebelled by taking a string of lovers, or by drinking lunch every day, or by buying a huge car on credit and driving it into a tree. Not Ms. Tibbs. She stole the tea money instead.

She was unlucky to be caught. OK, OK, that's sort of a stupid thing to say, I suppose, everybody is unlucky to be caught. What I mean is she was the victim of an unusual chain of events. The first was that, for the first time in god knows how long, I chipped into the tea kitty. It was a tenner, too, quite impressive. Then the meeting which I'd expected was cancelled ( a heart attack, Gloria wasn't the only unlucky one that morning ). Then it started to rain and, having both the time and the inclination, I decided to take it easy.

If I hadn't smoked the last of my cigarettes for breakfast, or if I'd had more cash on me she still would have got away with it. But I had and I didn't, so I went back out to reception and lifted the tea money tin.

'What are you doing?' She asked me, and I felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe that's why I didn't notice how nervous she'd become.

'Just borrowing my tenner back.' I explained, feeling like I'd been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. For a moment she said nothing, just bent at a pencil like she was trying to break it.

'Well, you can't.' She said. I opened the lid and found out why.

'Oh, you spent it already.'

The pencil snapped and for the first time I noticed that she'd gone quite pale.

All master criminals, they say, make one crucial mistake. Ms. Tibbs was to admit to what she'd done.

'I'm so sorry.' She said, her desperate eyes revealing more emotion than I'd seen in them over the previous four years. ' It was only this once...'

'Gloria.' I admonished, ironically I thought. ' Don't tell me you've been stealing the tea money.'

'I'm sorry.' She whispered, hanging her head like a cartoon of a naughty school girl. She was blushing, too, the furious red painting over the pal our of her face.

'Well.' I said, and for a moment couldn't think of anything to add. Then I rallied. 

'Well, you'd better take a break, go to the cash point and return the money. And while your at it you can pick me up twenty Benson and Hedges.'

'All Right.' She said, gratefully snatching up her bag and making good her escape.

'Don't get lights.' I reminded her as she rushed down the staircase, but her only reply was a sort of a miserable snuffle.

She came back half an hour later, having regained her composure. She gave me my cigarettes and then stood in front of my desk, back straight and chest out like a brave prisoner before a firing squad. 

'I'd just like to say.' She began, her voice as flat and monotone as anyone new to speech making ' That I'm very sorry for what I've done. I don't know why I did it. It's just that sometimes... oh, I don't know. Anyway I'm very sorry and it won't happen again, just please don't tell anyone about it.' 

Her pleading eyes were damp and red rimmed, as though she'd been doing a lot of crying. For the first time I noticed what a rich shade of brown they were. Quite pretty, in fact. That was when the devil got into me, as grandma used to say.

'I'm afraid it's too late for apologies.' I dead panned, my voice as serious as a clowns painted frown.

'What do you mean?' She whispered.

'Well, I can hardly have a thief working in my office.' I went on reasonably. ' I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to clear your desk.'

'You're firing me?' Disbelief widened her warm hazel eyes even further. ' Oh no. Please don't.'

A tear drop, fat and hot, rolled lazily down one of her cheeks. Then another, and another, and then she was crying again, her narrow chest heaving in great, heart broken sobs.

'Please don't fire me.' She wailed, her thin lips pulled back in a grimace of dismay. Even her nose had started to dampen ' I'll do anything, anything at all.'

'Anything?' I asked, handing her a tissue. Suddenly, as though I'd stumbled through some sort of x-rated looking glass, I saw Ms Tibbs as something other than a figure of fun. I saw her as a female. A female desperate to please.

'Yes.' This strange sex object blubbered, blowing her nose.' Just tell me what to do.'

I hesitated for a moment, aware of how deep the waters ahead of me were. 

'You're sure?'

'Yes, I'm sure. Just please don't send me home.' Another sob wracked her body and I made up my mind.

'If I don't fire you you'll have to be severely... punished.'

I chose the word carefully, savoring the nuances of it as it rolled around my tongue.

'Oh that's fine.' She gushed, still crying but now with relief. ' Punish me however you want.'

'Very well. Take your skirt off.'

I immediately regretted saying it. As soon as the words were out of my mouth her face hardened and she drew herself up. I waited for her to tell me to go to hell, maybe even to slap me. She looked furious.

But then the fire went out of her eyes and, to my astonishment, she began to unfasten her dress. The zip whined down and I watched spellbound as the garment slid slowly down her legs, ending up in a bunch around her ankles.

She wasn't wearing any tights so there was nothing between her bony knees and white panties but well fleshed thighs. I dragged my eyes up from them and found myself staring at the pronounced mound of her sex. It bulged against the cotton, and water flooded my mouth as I realized I had only to give the word to see it.

'Uh, good.' I swallowed and glanced up. Ms Tibbs head was hung so low that her tears were forming little pools in her glasses before dripping down onto the material of her skirt. Her shoulders shook as she wept, a picture of abject humiliation. 

I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so hard.

'Now.’ I whispered through my tightening throat ' Pull your panties down.'

At first she gave no sign of having heard me and I wondered if I was going to have to repeat myself. But before I could she hooked her thumbs under the elastic of her knickers and tugged them down to her knees.

I looked at the thick pelt of dark pubic hair that lay between Ms Tibbs fleshy thighs. The curls were shockingly black against her pale skin, and my heart began to race. Without quite knowing what I was doing I got up out of my seat and around her to study her more closely. 

She stood stock still as I examined her, stopping to admire the heavy drop of her fat white buttocks. They jutted out from beneath the hem of her blouse, two sagging globes separated by a deep crevasse. As I ogled her I noticed the red flush that had begun to color her cheeks, and without stopping to think I reached down and cupped one buttock to feel the heat.

Her only response was a little whimper as I weighed the fat sphere, squeezing it until the reddening flesh bulged out between my fingers. Then I relented and began stroking her, my fingers eventually slipping into the deep groove of her cleavage. I slipped my forefinger between her cheeks until I felt the tight little pucker of her anus. Using only my fingertip I began to rub her there, massaging her open before suddenly pushing it deep into that rubbery little ring.

She gave a yelp of shocked surprise and jolted forwards, the reaction so fast that my finger popped free. 

'Stay still when I'm touching you.' I commanded, my voice sounding strangely thick. I couldn't see her face but the back of her head bobbed up and down in agreement. Once more I cupped her ass and suddenly I knew what her punishment was going to be.

'Bend over the desk.' I told her. Again Ms. Tibbs head nodded in agreement. She leant forward to put her hands on the desk top before slowly bowing down. As she pressed her flushed face down into the cold pine I felt her buttock flatten and widen in my hand. Perhaps it was my imagination but as she bent forward in submission she seemed to thrust herself more firmly into my palm, and once again I found myself tracing the valley that lay between her cheeks.

'You've been a very naughty girl.' I told her, an excited pulse beat pounding in my throat ' And I'm afraid that I'm going to have to spank you.'

Ms. Tibbs took a deep, shuddering breath.

'You stole ten pounds so I'm going to have to spank you ten times. Do you accept?'

To be honest I was so hard right then that if she'd said no I'd have been tempted to pin her down and do it anyway. Fortunately, though, she didn't say no. She didn't say anything, just nodded and buried her face in her hands.

The first slap was harder than I intended. It sounded like a gun shot and left a neat red handprint on the skin of her rippling ass. Ms. Tibbs gave a sudden squeal of surprise at the blow, her voice high and girlish. Any reservations about the extent of her punishment were washed away by that cry.

Her upturned bottom quivered as I spanked her again, this time hard enough to sting my own palm. Once more she squealed, this time more from pain than from surprise, and the sound made my next blow harder still. By the fifth or the sixth my hand was rising and falling with the quickening rhythm of a metronome and Ms. Tibbs was wailing with a wild abandon, her inhibitions long gone beneath the abject humiliation of her punishment. Her shoulders heaved with storms of emotion, shaking almost as much as the burning globes of flesh that bounced beneath my hand.

I'd almost finished before I realized that for all her weeping and wailing Ms. Gloria Tibbs was as turned on as I was. I'd have seen it earlier if I hadn't been half blinded by my own lust and the maddening routine of her spanking, the signs were clear enough. 

Not only had she raised her bottom, thrusting her fat cheeks out to meet each stinging blow, but she'd also been gradually opening her legs to spread those cheeks apart. I could see the dark ring of her anus winking up at me now from between the hot weight of her buttocks and, below that, the dark thatch of her pubic hair.

I raised my hand once more and brought it down, but suddenly the urge to stroke had replaced the urge to spank. Although she continued to wail as though her heart was broken she arched her back and, quite shamelessly, thrust her hind quarters back into my groping hand.

'There, there, Ms. Tibbs.' I said soothingly and slipped my middle finger between her legs.

I couldn't believe how wet she was. I slid another finger into her and felt the thick juice of her excitement melting between my fingers as I rubbed them together. Pulling them out with a slight sucking sound I hurriedly pulled down my zip. She wriggled restlessly and I put one steadying hand on the small of her back as I took a hold of my straining dick.

'There, there.' I repeated, pressing the velvet head of my erection through the nest of her curls to touch the swollen lips beneath. Her tears stopped at the sensation and we remained tensed in that position for about three heart beats. Then Ms. Tibbs turned her damp eyes back to mine and spoke.

'Aren't you going to mount me?' She whispered plaintively, raising herself a little higher as she spoke.

'Do you want me to?' I asked as I pressed a little further into her willing warmth.

'That's how my master's usually end a spanking.' She said with a shrug.

It didn't last very long, although you can hardly blame me. One minute I was deep inside of her, hands holding her firmly in place by the generous cushions of her hips and the next I was riding her, oblivious to the squeaking desk that rocked back and forth beneath her prone form. And then I was coming, pumping my seed deep inside of her as she remained compliantly on the desk.

When I was finished I dismounted, gave her one more playful slap on the rump, and collapsed onto my chair. After a moment Ms. Tibbs got up from the desk and started to dress. It was amazing how quickly she changed her appearance back from disheveled slut to prim secretary, and I had an idea that maybe she'd had some practice.

'Well then ' She said, straightening a hair pin ' now that I'm your fuck piece I suppose you'll let me off the tea money?'

'My what?' I asked, startled.

'Your fuck piece. That's what old Mr. Avery used to call me before you took over. One day he caught me... oh, it's too embarrassing. Anyway, we came to an agreement. He didn't tell anybody and in return I let him use me however he wanted.'

'Seems fair.' I said and lit a thoughtful cigarette ' Well then, my little fuck piece, how about getting on with your filing. I've got some calls to make.'

'Yes, Master.' She replied, leaving my office as though nothing had happened. I watched her return to her desk then sat and smoked and thought. What lengths, I wondered, would she be prepared to go to?

Well, there was only one way to find out.

God, I loved this job!