She watched, as Miss Grant stood up and walked round to where she stood. Then felt the tip of her crop, with a firm pressure as Miss Grant circled her slowly, and trailed it down her clothing.
She felt the crop's ruthlessness as Miss Grant delivered a sharp whip to her ass cheeks.
“That's for being late!”
The contact smarted, and Meg immediately put a hand on her ass, guessing there was a red mark, rubbing where it hurt. Miss Grant, however, pushed it away.
“Hands by your sides,” she ordered, frowning again. “And speak only when I say.”
Meg obeyed, with a mixture of fear and bemusement. She knew Miss Grant could be strict, but had never seen her behave in this manner.
Miss Grant continued to walk around Meg, as though sizing her up. “Hmm,” she said, finally, halting in front of her. “I reckon you'll do.”
Meg looked up, arching an eyebrow, giving her boss an inquisitive look.
Miss Grant continued, her crop resting on Meg's chest. “I've had my eye on you lately. I've been looking for a Personal Assistant. A very personal one. Her ass would be mine! I would need her to be there for me, whenever I needed her.” She whipped open Meg's top shirt button, and pushed the lapels back, so as she could see a little of Meg's flesh. Then continued talking, since Meg made no complaint. “Do you think you could fill those shoes?”
Her crop wandered down to Meg's second button.
Icy shivers traveled down Meg's spine and desire rose up, exciting her. She parted her legs slightly, as a warm moist feeling ensued within, leaking out, and damping the lace panties she wore.
“Well?” Miss Grant tapped impatiently on Meg's button.
Meg trembled as she undid the button. She stumbled over her words. “Th ... thank you. I would love to be your Personal Assistant, Miss Grant.”
“Good. Just remember, though, from now on, your ass is mine!”