Katrina’s Mistake

tagFirst TimeKatrina's Mistake

The story is strictly fiction. Any correlation with real people is entirely happenstance. I hope you enjoy this story. I do not outline my writing, and therefore it goes where raw imagination takes it. Then massive editing ensues, but it is what it turns out to be, nothing more.
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Young, shy Katrina Phillips guardedly ambled towards her supervisor's office. It was a dreary and foggy Tuesday afternoon in late February and just minutes before quitting time at Hedwig and Sons, a dull textile firm, a longtime elite player in American corporate commerce. The San Francisco highrise windows obscured in fog; the mist glowed ominously from the lower red-orange sun's winter angle. Condensation dripped slowly down the dark tinted glass as she walked by the long facade of windows looking west up Market Street. The cable cars appeared ghostly as they disappeared into the haze.
"Are you going to see the boss?" Adam nosily asked as he approached Katrina walking the other way.
"Yes, and I don't know what he wants," Katrina replied curtly, having no time for chatting, especially with nosey and annoying gossipy people.
Adam turned and watched Katrina's behind shamelessly as she walked past him. His constant wolfiness with females could easily find Adam charged with sexual harassment, but he was handsome, and he probably never would be subject to such.
Katrina walked by the scowling oil painting portrait of company founder Jedediah S. Hedwig who began the company by mechanizing weaving cotton into a luxuriously soft cloth, using a water-powered mill in upstate New York. It was quite risky to move his operation from England as a private venture. It saved him a fortune on shipping costs over getting the raw materials across the Atlantic and easily undercut the competitor's prices. A wise, pioneering act in that he both immigrated and invested in a new land at the same time. And Jedediah was the last innovator in his line.
Katrina's young face was tense as she continued across the grey carpet fearfully, traversing the final yards filled with nervous tension, her mind indexing through many dread infused scenarios, none of which came to a positive conclusion. Martin, the floor supervisor, had never called Katrina into his office before. She still brooded over the potential calamities as she walked.
Does he know what I have done? Katrina wondered.
As she walked through the last of the outer office space, some other workers looked her way from their drably uniform cubicle workstations. They were surprised to see Katrina, not fastidiously working in her tiny interior office. Katrina had been an exemplary worker. A terrific fit for Martin's floor. The department was the most fiscally productive in the Pacific coast division of the Corporation. The bean counters to triumph over all other bean counters, the betters considered Martin highly.
Martin leading by example had gained well-deserved respect from the entire floor of accountants. His keen numbers insight had enabled good profit for the firm, and his last four Holiday bonus checks reflected that as did those of the whole department. Martin prospered more than an average worker for the floor's success; of course, the Betters increased bonuses incrementally due to one's station. "Mr. Wellington is expecting you," Shea, the bosses stylishly dressed PA, said.
Katrina pushing her glasses back up her nose and looked at Shea's striking thirty-five-year-old face for clues as to what to expect. Shea was privy to everything on the floor. Shea's face was stoic, and Katrina could deduce nothing. Shea's friendly nature somewhat hid her extreme intelligence. Shea had survived several floor managers' terminations, and some considered her a stealth informant to the higher-ups. Katrina knew better than actually to ask Shea anything, hoping not to stir any more trouble up. The less said, the better in the hive-like office setting.
"Okay, I will just knock then," Katrina said meekly.
Her long, lean legs trembled as she knocked on the foreboding dark woodgrain door. Katrina, though gorgeous, had no idea how attractive she was. She was bookish, academic type, and as intelligent as shy. Now she was the head of her small department, due to her excellent head for numbers. There were only two employees, one male and one female, under her, and they too were undeniably socially awkward, perhaps even more so than her. Her two subordinates had recently begun dating one another, and Katrina was happy for them, though ashamed by her jealousy of their budding romance. Loneliness is a hard pill to swallow.
Many of the other workers had labeled her 'head nerd.' The three of her cost-effective department collectively were referred to as the 'little nerd herd,' and to be called out for such by the floor of account analysts stingingly attested how socially stunted her crew was. The sector's purpose was to crunch the numbers, and the upper floor executives acted on them.
Katrina had focused on school over social college life, finding more comfort with numbers and books than people. She had excelled at college and graduated near the top of her prestigious University of California class. She had done the same thing with work for the last two-plus years and recently earned the promotion to lead her small group.
"You may enter," a male voice called through the door.
Katrina adjusted her clothes nervously as she entered Martin Wellington's office. Martin's attractive face looked stern.
Martin had put his entire life into work. He was a bit of a bore, not willfully dull but sadly lacking the ability to be any other way. Martin had graduated from the rival private school of CAL Berkely across the bay at the Farm. Martin had an unknown benefactor who gifted him the Palo Alto premium education. Martin, still single, and now approaching thirty-five was lonely. He, too, wore specs and was almost as awkward as lovely young Katrina. H. and S. recruited Martin for reasons unknown in his junior year at Stanford; he was an excellent student, but he far from stellar at communicating.
"You wanted to see me, Boss?" the sexy librarian looking twenty-five-year-old Katrina asked.
"There seems to be ten thousand missing from the reserve account you manage?" Martin's blue eyes looked at her sternly. He always went right on a topic without pleasantries, undeniable evidence of his lack of conversational skill.
Martin, being a company man, took management responsibility for his duties seriously. Work was the only thing that in life went right for him. Martin was motivated to continue his success in at least one arena of life.
"There must be some mistake," Katrina stammered, trying to buy time. Katrina's mind wondered how the dinosaur corporation had found her out so quickly? She hoped to land another job before the discovery.
Katrina was not socially apt enough to hide the terror she was feeling; her attempted poker face was not convincing. Martin knew he had her now. Martin could read people well.
"I have checked the numbers several times. There is no mistake," Martin's handsome face was unflinching.
"How do you know it was me?" Katrina asked she could not make eye contact with him.
"I traced the money to your bank account," Martin said. Martin was much more apt at communicating with computers than people.
"I confess I took it, but I needed the money for my mother's medical expenses. I was desperate. Please do not turn me in," Katrina said remorsefully.
Her glasses were sliding down her small cute perspiration-dampened nose, and she used her finger to push the black plastic framed spectacles back in place. Katrina was getting warm, and she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her white blouse. Withering away from Martin's scorn filled gaze, Katrina nervously toyed with her natural honey-colored hair. She grew so warm that she used the top of her shirt to fan herself. She felt faint, and her face looked flush.
"I have to meet the audit required by corporate in two weeks. I have no choice but to call the police," Martin said.
"Do not call them; I will do anything," Katrina pleaded.
"If you pay the money back, I will just accept your resignation without police involvement," Martin said. He looked longingly at his sexy young employee. Even in her distress, Katrina's lovely pale face looked radiant to Martin.
"I don't have the money. I told you I spent it paying for my mother's expenses," Katrina said.
"What do you mean by you will do anything?" Martin asked, trying not grin.
"I will do anything you want. Just anything," Katrina said.
"Lock the door, Katrina," Martin said as his heart raced with excitement.
Katrina's legs trembled as she walked over to lock the door. She turned and returned, standing in front of Martin.
"Bend over my desk, Katrina. I will have to spank you for this," He said. Martin had been fantasizing about spanking her for weeks, ever since he found the money missing. He spent all the time tracking the money trail, ensuring the theft was not by an outside agent was now worth it.
"Spank me, Mr. Wellington?" Katrina asked.
"Of course, I must punish you for stealing," Martin said.
"No one ever spanked me before," Katrina said.
"It must do it, bend over the desk," Martin said.
Katrina bent over his maple desk as her breasts pressed into the hard surface. He slapped her bottom hard through her blue wool blend skirt, while Katrina could feel her nipples stiffen in excitement. She cried out quietly from the dominant first blow. He pulled her blue hem up, exposing her pantyhose and white cotton panties underneath. Martin liked the view of her sexy taught bottom, he was not impressed by the cotton panties, but their contents did excite him. He hated plain panties, ironic because the Corporation they worked for was instrumental in popularizing soft cotton cloth in America.
Martin took a wooden paddle from his drawer. Martin had purchased the paddle on-line just for this incident, and now each blow was painful. Martin was becoming aroused. He was currently fulfilling two deeply coveted fantasies, one spanking a lovely woman and two his obsession with demure Katrina.
Katrina began to get wet between her legs with sexual excitement. She could not understand why she was responding in this manner. She had never considered spanking erotic before. Her reaction was starting to humiliate her. I don't want Martin to think I am a pervert; I hope he doesn't see the moisture, she thought.
Martin's cock slowly began swelling while spanking her. Her round bottom quivered sexily in her white panties. He gave her ten more blows with the stiff round paddle. He was enjoying the erotic feelings she inspired in him, as his penis continued stirring. His plan was going perfectly, and he wanted to savor this.
"This only the start of your punishment," Martin said.
"What other punishments will I endure?" Katrina said. Her face feigned horror, but her loins were on fire.
"You still must repay what you owe," He said.
"My mother is dying, I cannot go to jail, I have to take care of her," Katrina repeated her mother's condition nervously.
"You must repay the money," Martin said.
"I have nothing to pay it back with," she revealed.
"I can loan you the money. I can slip it back quietly, but you have to agree to my repayment terms," Martin said.
"I will make payments anything you say," Katrina said, thinking she might be off the hook.
"I don't want you to repay me with money," Martin said.
"What do you want then?" Katrina said. She felt increased anxiety and sexual yearning.
" I want you to pay me with your body," Martin said as he nervously stopped speaking.
Katrina looked lustfully into his eyes, and he encouraged began speaking again.
"You will only be my sex toy here at first," Martin said, though he wished to say Slave, he only said Toy. He just could not muster the resolve to say that. Such blatantly sexual words embarrassed him, but he frequently fantasized about such things.
"What will I have to do?" Katrina asked. Katrina was shy in school; she did not even change for the other girls' gym in college.
"Do everything I require of you; it is that or prison. What do you choose?" Martin asked.
"I can't go to prison. Who would look after Mother," she whimpered.
"Agree to my terms then," Martin said.
"I will be your obedient toy, Boss," Katrina said.
"Well, take off all your clothes," Martin said.
"I have never been naked in front of a Man before," Katrina said shyly.
"There is a first time for everything. Do as I say," Martin said, his nervous voice shaky with lust.
Katrina took off her low-heeled black suede shoes. She began unbuttoning her conservative white blouse. He is going to see how skinny and pale I am, Katrina thought. Martin looked at her, and his stare made Katrina uneasy. Finally, she pulled the tail of her blouse out of her skirt. Her face turned red with embarrassment. Her boring padded white cotton bra came into his view. She pulled her shoulders and arms out of her blouse and set it on the chair. She hesitated, mortified that her underwear was in his sight.
"Now the bra, take it off," Martin said. Martin waited impatiently to see her breasts.
She unclasped the bra and took it off reluctantly. She turned away as she removed her bra.
"Turn around so I can see you," Martin ordered quietly.
Her lovely pert breasts came into view. She tried to cover the pretty pink nipples with her right arm as she turned back to face Martin. No man had ever seen Katrina's perfect pale breasts before.
"Put your arms at your side, Katie," He said, trying unsuccessfully not to leer.
No one had called her Katie in ages. She put her hands at her sides. He was now sitting behind his desk, most likely to feel more comfortable with his inexperience.
"Your breasts are lovely," Martin gasped.
He loved her creamy white skin color. She looked in his eyes to see if he had said that in earnest. "He does think that," she thought, "She still was ashamed that he could see her hardening nipples."
"Come here; I want to see your breasts closer," he said. He turned his desk chair to the side.
She walked around his light wood desk and stood in front of him. She trembled in self-conscious anxiety as he reached up and pinched her puffy pointy nipple. Katrina shivered from his touch. She was reeling with shame yet excited at the same time. She could tell he found her sensitive body desirable, and this thrilled her immeasurably. He used both hands and pinched both nipples gently.
"You like that, Katrina?" He asked.
"Yes, it feels good, but mother said I must not allow this until marriage," She said coyly.
" Sex toy bodies are the possession of their owner. I can utilize it for my benefit now," Martin said his arousal made him bolder.
Even in her embarrassed shock, her body was responding to his gentle ravaging.
"They look tasty. You don't mind if I suck your nipples, do you, Katrina?" he asked.
"No one has ever done that before, Sir," She said.
"But you have fantasized about it, right?" He asked.
"Yes, I have," she admitted blushing.
"Have I ever been the one starring in your fantasies?" he asked
"Yes, many times," her face grew even redder. I should have lied; this is so embarrassing, she thought.
He sucked her right nipple into his mouth and suckled. She moaned as he savored her innocent flesh. She involuntarily pressed her nipple towards his mouth. She could feel the continuing moisture running down inside the leg of her pantyhose from his gentle mouth's attention. My body is betraying me, she thought. He sucked one nipple and then the other slowly; He was no longer in a rush. He toyed with her nipples with his tongue. He bit them gently, enjoying the sweet gasps and moans she was emitting. He wanted to delight in his tentative abjection of her.
He unzipped her skirt. It fell to the floor. Her body was lithe, but she had enough curves to be unmistakably and sexily woman. Her breasts were just big enough. The perfect pale creaminess of her orbs enticed him. Martin felt fascinated by her coy sumptuous body.
"I hate pantyhose, Katie," He said.
She was wearing pantyhose over her plain white panties. Mr. Wellington can see my panties, she fretted.
"Sorry I did not know, Mr. Wellington," she said.
"I want you to call me, Sir," he said.
"Yes, Sir," she said, her eyes revealing her deep-seated lust.
"I prefer stockings, I don't want to fight pantyhose for access to your 'pussy'," he said, his voice trailing off on the last word self-consciously.
She found the mere mention of her intimate parts by him unbearable. Her face grew hot. He reached into his desk and took out some stainless steel scissors. Even though he was very inexperienced, Martin was now on a mission. With trembling hands, he cut a large hole in the crotch of her pantyhose. Katrina gasped. He pulled her panties out. Martin used the scissors on the plain panties next to the stretched white cotton material biting into her intimate flesh. He cut them once through the crouch and reached under her pantyhose to slice again. This time through the waist from the leg hole, he pulled them off and threw them into the waste bin. Her sex was now gloriously exposed to his loving eyes. Her honey-blond fur covered vagina smelled of her arousal.
"A sexy woman like you should never wear underwear like this," he said.
"Sorry, sir, but I don't have anything else," she said, thrilled by his compliment, yet increasingly ashamed of her nudity.
"Hand me that bra while we are at it," he said.
Katrina retrieved the bra and handed it to him. He cut it up and threw it in the waste bin.
"What will I wear home? I ride the bus," Katrina asked. Katrina felt woozy imagining walking to the bus in the biting San Francisco afternoon wind. Katrina had already sold her car for the little money brought by it. Her thoughts of the wind caused exposure did irrefutably arouse her, but she couldn't possibly do that. It would be indecent.
He did not answer that question. He licked his fingers.
"Open your legs a little wider," he ordered.
He fingered her moist sex as desire weakened her knees. He never fingered a woman's sex before, and it fascinated him. His eyes focused intently on her intricacies. His fingers opened her pliable pink lips as her engorged clitoris strained out from its hood. He could smell the pungent scent of her aroused sex. He toyed with her flesh as she failed to suppress her soft moans.
"Has any man ever done this to you before?" He asked.
"No, Sir, I am a virgin," she said.
"Let's move to the couch," he said.
They sat next to one another on the grey fabric couch. Martin began lovingly kissing her as he pinched her nipples more. He pulled her pink tips as more soft moans slipped incoherently from Katrina's lips between kisses. Martin slowly kissed her as he fingered her sex again. His fingers found her clitoris. Her lower body thrust up to meet his fingers in the act of betrayal to her meek wishes, as she wantonly offered herself to him.
"Have you dreamt of this," He asked.
"Yes, Sir, I have," she admitted. The admission mortified her.
He also had hundreds of times. He removed his shirt before he kissed Katrina. When he lifted his lips from hers, she tried to move her head forward to maintain the kiss. Her body was reacting in ways beyond her mind's control. Katrina viewed Martin's pale lean muscular chest; he could see the lust in her eyes. Martin unbuckled his pants and pulled them down. He hastily kicked them off his legs and pulled his striped boxer underwear off.
Martin's large cock shocked her, Katrina gasped. She looked at his cock and began to feel embarrassed, although she was curious, and her fascination kept her eyes lust trapped. He placed her hand on his rigid burning member, and Katrina grasped it hesitantly at first. She soon liked its feel. Katrina could feel the soft skin throbbing in her hand. She felt excited about touching him, and she stroked it slowly. She had secretly wanted to hold a cock in her hand for as long as she could remember.

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