She Hates Slavery a Bit Too Much

"Rafael, have you finished the task, with the button?" Naomi, a petite ebony woman asked.

"Hmm," I made an honest attempt at remembering before opening our task board, "which one it was?"

"Oh, it's not on a board. I mean, I forgot to add it!" like always, Naomi got right up to me as she spoke, "But we discussed it this Wednesday with Sarah, and decided to have it released by tomorrow, so..."

"Wait," from where I was sitting, I had to raise my head to meet her eyes, otherwise I'd be glaring at her slim waist in a thin skinny-fit sweater, "I think I'd remember a meeting with Sarah..."

"Ah, you weren't invited. Sarah dislikes your attitude! Says you're full of microaggressions!"

"..."

"What?"

"If I wasn't on a meeting... And there's no task for me... Then how was I supposed..."

"Again with your disruptive questioning! Forget it! Aziza, can you do it?"

"Of course!"

"Good, thank you!"

I heard Naomi's heels aggressively slam the ground behind me, as she exclaimed "Darn white people! Can't do anything on their own - that's why they had to invent slavery!"

To my right, Aziza has set up a smartphone to record a video.

"And then I grab my coffee... *ahem*, no. And then I grab my coffee! Hmmm... And the-en! I grab my co-offee!"

Is she still doing that outdated "how I spend my day" trend?

I tried to follow up on my actual task for today. My train of thought was constantly interrupted.

"White people are the worst! I just recently learned how they've controlled slaves, and it's sickening!"

"A-and then... I grab my coffee!"

"Sorry everyone, I'm late! Went cycling to the office, won't take shower now to make up for it!"

"Hey, anyone wanna go grab a bagel?"

"You go ahead - I have fish, just gonna microwave it!"

"They were brutally raping black slaves with their big white cocks in front of everyone else! I mean, it was done to break our spirits! So disgusting, it makes me shiver!"

It's funny. I'm not qualified to discuss history, however, ever since I joined, Naomi went on long tirades about how white people were the absolute worst. "Seeking to dominate blacks throughout the whole course of history", and "forcing them to do the most humiliating tasks" - this kind of stuff.

That was until one day she mixed up changing rooms in our office gym, and walked on me still naked from the shower. My towel was hanging from the locker door, and rushing to cover up would look stupid. So I just stood there, expecting her to leave. Instead, she froze solid, her eyes widening as she studied the parts of my body I normally don't show to my colleagues. I had to remind her that she was in the wrong room, then remind her again not to stare, before she turned away and dashed off (sparing me from making a "my eyes are up here" joke).

Since then Naomi got even more annoying, constantly getting up my personal space, being picky, and changing requirements even more often. And her long speeches about terrible white people started including mentions of big white cocks doing unspeakable things to the black slaves.

I guess I would get flattered if it wasn't so irritating.

I put my headphones on, and queued a "Playlist: You Are The Villain Meant To Destroy The World." With the circus around me, I started relating to it more by the day.

***

A day went by, and our small but diverse team navigated the challenges of a corporate world with the gracefulness of a freighter ship, drifting between bridge platforms.

There were calls full of people mumbling, panicked meetings due to Naomi confusing tasks requirements and deadlines - again - people coming and leaving, videos recorded, and emails sent.

None of that mattered. Our team could be let go and the company (which I won't name as it's too well known) wouldn't notice. Our entire department could be closed and the company wouldn't notice. In fact, our whole office could be nuked from orbit, and nothing of value for the company would be lost.

I still don't understand how any of this made any sense. My best guess is that at first we only hired the best - to change the world and forge the company's future. Then we started hiring the good, with a rationale that it's better than having them work for competitors. And then it sorta got out of hands, or rather, turned into a cesspool. Now, it's a giant free-for-all, with exes and managers trying to justify their existence by bloating staff and launching meaningless initiatives while tanking everyone else.

And that's when I joined. I thought it was my golden opportunity - as they offered a relocation package, and I, for some reason, dreamed about returning to the isles of my ancestors. Joining one of "the big guys" seemed like a no-brainer. Instead, I ended up in the world's highest-paid longhouse, trying to preserve enough bits of sanity with the meaninglessness of my daily work. At this point, I was just curious to see how long I'll last before they finally fire me for being a "toxic high performer" who "makes colleagues uncomfortable."

***

By the end of the day, I managed to get acceptable results, and tried to upload them - but something was off. Our project was broken, but it wasn't me, it was...

"Raffael, could you please help?" Naomi approached with a weary look, "It's about that same button..."

But of course. The last change was from Aziza, and since then every test related to "the button" has been broken.

"I mean, there were some small issues, but everyone has left, and tomorrow it's demo, so..." Naomi trailed off.

We both heard "...Then I go, just in time, to grab a smoothie..." as the doors slammed shut. Oh, so - this part Aziza was able to do in one take?!

I sighed. When push comes to shove, Naomi snaps out of her sentiments and comes to the only person stupid enough to care about our product.

"All right, let's see what we can do..."

"Yay!"

Naomi stepped right up to me, with her chest nearly touching my shoulder, as I opened the editor. As expected - some garbage was copied and pasted from the internet with no regard to what it does.

What's not expected - is that her stuff got through reviews, tests, and all the security precautions that we had in place against cases like that. I'd think that bypassing all of this is impossible. Aziza managed to do just that, with one hand, and in between recording clips for her Tiktok video. Once again - I'm working with talented people.

If only there was a way to direct this talent towards something useful...

I silently cursed myself for being such a pushover, as I worked on a fix, for a button buried so deep in options, that only a fraction of users would ever see it, let alone click it.

Naomi stood by, explaining what to do, correcting herself, thinking out loud, and clarifying what she meant over and over. Nothing new, but at least she kept me company. Plus occasionally she offered good insights, so I wasn't even annoyed. Even her waving at the screen right in my face felt somewhat cute - she was just trying to help. When her arm occasionally moved past my face I could feel her scent - a subtle flower aroma from some delicate perfume. She always smelled nice.

To be frank - it was pleasant to feel a warm feminine body nearby. I was in between relationships - my breakup being the last straw that got me to relocate, and here I still couldn't bring myself to date any woman that called her panties "knickers".

***

We waited for the fix to be rolled out. I was still sitting, and Naomi bent over with her elbows resting on my desk.

"A-a-and, done!" I announced turning, "Your demo will be fine tomorrow!"

Naomi kept looking at the screen, her face hidden behind curly hair. Her sweater hung, and at the angle she was I could see deep into her cleavage. A part of me wondered why am I looking, a part of me noticed that she had a sexy lace bra (and her breasts look amazing in it from above!) Another part rang alarm bells - but it was too late. Naomi turned her head just in time to catch me ogling down her cleavage.

I hate being busted, so I acted like I wasn't. After all: I was tired, I drifted off with a thousand-yard stare, I have nothing to be embarrassed of!

Instead, it was Naomi who got shy. She quickly rose, coughed, and then caressed her chest without even realizing it. It was hard to tell with her skin colour, but it almost seemed like she blushed. She mumbled a "Uhm, yes, thank you," and darted off to her cubicle. Before I turned away I noticed that she sways her hips more awkwardly than usual, as if she feels my stare on her back, or on her tight ass.

"Way to go, Rafael!" I complimented myself, "Embarrassing your boss, and coming off as a creep at the same time! That next performance review will surely be something!"

But still - I fixed (without demanding overtime pay!) the issue before it was noticed, and saved Naomi the need to escalate the incident and write postmortems. That surely will be appreciated?

***

It, in fact, did not get appreciated. On the demo the next day Sarah complimented Aziza on her excellent work and scolded me for using the wrong bullet icons in a task I did, even though I followed our company branding guide.

Naomi was nodding and agreeing - with Sarah! Even remarked on how hard it is to work with someone as incompetent and hostile as I was.

I kept smiling and nodding apologetically. Anything else would get me into trouble.

That day various thoughts at the back of my head finally clicked together, and I realized that I had a plan. If that's how they want to treat me, then why must I act any differently?

But I couldn't act right away, I needed more time and research to prepare, which I got to, as soon as the day ended.

***

Another week went by, while I was waiting for the delivery. On Monday Naomi put me through hell - she stuck by my desk nearly the whole day, with constant remarks, suggestions, and demands for clarification on every single little thing.

I complied, still wondering to myself - am I crazy with my thoughts? Can't I just keep going as is, without doing anything crazy?

The next day during a meeting I pointed out the looseness of Naomi's new task requirements, but suddenly that sent her crying. Literally.

Before I knew it I got written up by the HR department and was forcibly enrolled in a 4-hour-long mandatory sensitivity training, that I had to complete in parallel to my normal tasks, and while responding to requests from colleagues.

That settled it - if the game is unwinnable, I might as well go out with a bang.

Waiting until Friday felt like an eternity.

***

Surprisingly, Naomi came around and acted a few days more professionally. She calmed down and stopped intervening.

And when I walked today into an office wearing a formal suit and tie she even complimented me on my fashion sense, and how it sets me apart in the office full of oversized hoodies and flip flops. She didn't realize yet, that the suit was worn for her.

I walked around nervously. I was alone in Francois Donatien's room (each room in our office was named after some historical figure, this - after some obscure author). Last moments to pull breaks.

I've invited Naomi for a short 15-minute one-on-one so as not to raise her suspicion. I then booked the room until evening in my name. I doubt she will bother checking for that. I picked this room in particular because of its location. A soundproof room located behind a now closed canteen in a secluded part of the office was the best option if you wished to be undisturbed.

The thing I noticed is... There was always way too much force in how Naomi expressed her hatred towards me. Way too much attention to the details that most wouldn't even bring up in an office environment.

I once knew a girl who told me that "I should absolutely totally under no circumstances never ever try to kiss her, because she hates my guts." She then collapsed to the floor crying on Valentine's Day, and I had no idea until her friends explained to me, while calling me a huge asshole. Then again, there was another girl whose "no" really meant "no", despite all my attempts to impress her. And another one, whose flirty behaviour didn't mean anything despite what I was thinking.

So, I was gambling here, I couldn't even estimate my odds, and the price of the mistake would be...

***

"Sorry! I'm late," Naomi barged in, notebook in her hands, "Crazy day! And I even forgot where this... room... was... Hey, what... is that?!" she froze solid in place.

"Hey, Naomi," I said plainly, "We need to talk."

"No, what the HELL is THAT?!" Naomi gestured at a table by my side.

Her eyes were glued to the collar, the leash, a few name tags to choose from, and a coil of high-quality rope I'd laid there.

"What, is this some sort of enslaving equipment?!"

"It is."

"Oh!"

Naomi blinked a few times in shock.

"Naomi, I'll be upfront with you. You are a clever and intelligent woman, and I enjoy the time, however brief, we spend together as colleagues," she looked at me with wide eyes. "However, I'm sick and tired of your lack of self-discipline and constant offensive remarks, and I think it's time we do something about it."

"And you thought t-that THIS!" she screamed and gestured at a desk. "What the! Do you even realize?!"

"That you can turn around, walk out of this room, call HR, and with our zero-tolerance policy I'll be fired and escorted off the premises in a blink?"

"Oh, I'm gonna do just that!" she didn't even attempt to move, "you're dead, Rafael, you're so dead!"

"No, I'll just lose my work, visa, and get deported back, potentially with a huge fine. I'll accept that outcome."

"You're such a moron, how did you even..."

"Or," I proceeded ignoring her, "you can strip, put this on," I gestured at the table, "and we will both see if I can help you improve yourself."

Naomi, dressed in her regular blouse and trousers, stood by the door. Her chest rose and fell sharply with her breathing. She appeared more outraged... and confused, than I've ever seen her before.

"I'll give you one last chance!" she tried to sound coldly and confidently, "get me off, I mean, get off, I mean! take that all away and I - may - let it slide!"

She attempted to stare me down while putting her notebook on a cupboard nearby, but her own trembling hand betrayed her.

"No," I said. I will not turn back now, there's no point to it anyway.

Our stares clashed. What was she thinking at the time? I didn't let a single emotion show on my face, while she was noticeably at a turmoil. Was I correct in my guess, or am I just a creep who thinks way too much of himself?

***

Naomi blinked first, not able to bear my gaze.

"So what," she asked out of breath, "you think you can rape me?! And- and, enslave me, and force me to... and force me to be your little bitch, a-and use me publicly as..."

"I will not so much lay a finger on you without your consent. You'll be free to stop me at any time. And I assure you that whatever happens here will stay with us, not affecting anything outside this room."

Naomi trailed off. I stood still, glancing at her. Her gaze was drifting between my face, my polished leather shoes, and the gear I'd prepared for her today. The door was right behind her.

"How do you even...?" she waved, "I don't!" she shook her head, "It's that..."

Her mind was definitely a battlefield. She could exit the room and finally have me fired from her team. In our work no one is indispensable, it won't even be a loss. I'm sure that the management would offer her a huge payout just to keep this "racist" case of "office sexual harassment" from leaking to the public. She could have it all - but was it what she really wanted?

"You!!!", "How you?", "You..." her breathing slowed down. Within a span of a few short minutes, from the brief interaction we had, and the turmoil raging inside her, her strength appears to have waned.

An exhausted black woman looked me in the eyes once more. She exhaled slowly, almost with a sob.

Her hand moved. Ever so slowly she undid a button on her blouse. Then another one. Her hand trembled as she unbuttoned the final one. With a shrug, my boss sent her blouse to the ground.

I kept eye contact. I didn't allow a hint of emotion on my face. I wasn't triumphant, I wasn't relieved, I wasn't laughing at her - I just looked at her, supportive, and she appeared to have comfort in that.

Her hands pulled on her shirt from the bottom and over her head, and with a single motion it joined her blouse on the floor.

Naomi kicked her sneakers off - one to the left, one to the right. Her hands unbuckled her trousers, allowing those to fall, as she stepped over the pile of clothes, one step closer to me.

She didn't ask, but in her sight, I could read a question "Is that enough?" Of course it wasn't. Her delicate lace bra and the panties of the matching white colour appeared foreign on her dark skin. It wasn't the place to wear those.

I remained silent, and Naomi gave in. She reached behind. I heard a silent "ting" and her bra fell to the floor too. A moment later panties joined the pile.

***

"Very well", I remarked.

Naomi stood nervously, not knowing what to do with her hands, even though she had nothing to be ashamed of.

Her small frame didn't have an extra kilogram to it. She worked out and was toned just enough to appear sexy. And her small (probably a-cups?) breasts had cute dark nipples, hardened and pointing at the ceiling.

Who would have thought that without clothes my bitchy boss would turn into such a gorgeous beauty?

"Now, come!" I gestured.

With clothes Naomi must have also discarded her last doubts - she just walked towards me without any argument, and with her last step, she knelt on the floor.

"Clever girl," I complimented. Grasps on the fly. "Now, I'm gonna put this collar on you," I have picked the collar up.

Upon much thought and consideration, I've ended up ordering an adjustable black leather one, with an underlining of red satin. It was pleasant for both looks and touch and should not cause any allergies.

Naomi seemed to be mesmerized, her eyes were fixated on the collar that was about to mark her neck. I swayed it in front of her face, and her eyes followed, her mouth gaping.

She gasped at the touch of the satin on her neck. I've fastened the collar - making sure it won't hang loose or choke her out, then looked into her eyes. Her big dark eyes were opened wide, the look of obedience I'd never seen before made her seem small and vulnerable. But for someone who spent ages decrying slavery, she seemed too excited to get collared.

"You like it?"

"I... I don't? Y-yes."

"Master."

"Yes, Master."

And there goes her extremely vocal campaigning against the use of "problematic" words, where "Master" made the top of the list.

***

"Now," I attached the leash, "Let's set up some ground rules as we walk."

I gently yanked, and my boss followed, crawling on all fours, her head following the leash in my arm.

"What happens here stays between us, unless agreed otherwise," we walked past the chair.

"You refer to me as 'Master', whatever I say - goes," we turned round the table.

"You can always say 'No' and I'll stop whatever I'm doing. You can say 'Stop' and I'll walk away for good, you will not see me ever again even if I have to resign. We may discuss safe words in the future."

I never understood what's the appeal of using coded stop words, instead of using "stop" as a word, but maybe I was missing something.

In case I haven't made it clear - I haven't had any sort of BDSM experience before. Planning this day I was so preoccupied with whether Naomi would submit to me at all, that I've never really considered what to do when she does. And now I wondered, feeling like a fish out of water, why haven't I gone to a club before, where I could gain experience prior to collaring and putting a leash on my boss. Did I not want to spoil my first time with just anybody, or did I not want to admit that I would actually go forth with the plan? That it was not just a daydream of a tired worker?