Working Late Pt. 01

I'm working late. I'm busy and a bit stressed out as usual. There's another push from head office to get the team's performance up and generate additional revenue by producing more products, quicker. I can't wait to have a glass of red wine in my hand as soon as I get home, to kick off my uncomfortable high heels and peel myself out of the smart business dress that's hugging every curve. Just as I start shutting down my computer, I hear a knock at the door. Feeling immensely irritated, I snap "What?" hoping to convey a "Not now" vibe to whoever is interrupting my attempts to get home.

I'm surprised to see Sam, one of the regional Sales team step into my office. I don't see him often, but he always disconcerts me when I do see him, with his arrogance and cocky attitude. I feel shy and girlish around him, which as the boss, I am not used to at all. He ignores my tone, smiling at me, disconcerting me with a look that suggests he's finding something amusing. I struggle to remember if I scheduled any meetings this late. Glancing out the office window into the rest of the main office, I notice that most of the lights are off and the place seems deserted. I must have lost track of time again.

"Working late?" he asks.

What do you think dip shit? Is the snarky comment I think to myself but out loud say, "Yes, but I was actually just packing up to go home, so can this wait for Monday?"

I smile slightly to try and take the sting out of the brush off. I suddenly remember the lust-filled day dream I had about Sam after our last encounter. He'd gone to the gym at lunch and come back looking energised, damp and smelling of some sporty soap that made me mentally picture his soapy wet, muscled torso and thighs in the shower. I catch myself staring at him now and blush realising I missed his reply. My nipples harden under my dress as I feel like he can read my thoughts. He looks quizzically at me.

"It'll only take a minute. I just wanted to show you this proposal," he says. Before I realise what's happened he's entered the office and closed the door. Suddenly the room feels very small as he brings his scent and heat and size closer to me. I come around to the front of my desk so that he's not looming over me, but too late, I realise that this leaves me standing feeling small in front of him instead. I try perching on my desk and offer him the seat. Why am I feeling so uncomfortable? I ask myself. He's just a work colleague and a subordinate. I'm the boss here.

He sits down and leans forward with his hands on his thighs, legs apart. I can't help but swallow hard at the sight of the bulge in his trousers where they're stretched over him. And leaning forward, he's not far from my bare thighs where my dress has ridden up from perching on the desk. I shift a little and try to pull the dress down. I look at him and see that all I'm doing is drawing attention to the way my dress has ridden up and it feels from his stare that his gaze can pierce the thin material of my dress and see the sexy lacy thong I'm wearing underneath. I flush at the memory of me standing in front of the mirror that morning naked, touching myself and watching my nipples harden before dressing in the sexier than usual underwear. It may have been weeks since my last sexual encounter, but I like to feel sexy nonetheless. For me. Or is it for situations like this? My conscience chimes in. Oh, for goodness sake, what can happen, we're colleagues and I can't let my guard down like that.

"So," I clear my throat, "you had a proposal for me? What's the project?" I force my voice to be as forceful as I can to try and redress the spin I feel he's put me in. "What can I do for you?"

"Well actually, it's what I can do for you," he says with a glint in his eye. "I found these pictures and I wanted to offer you a trade." He opens the folder in his lap and what I see makes my mouth go dry. "A mutual friend thought that your bosses would find these images particularly interesting" The lurid colour images in the folder are blurry but I recognise them enough to feel sick. I don't know who took them, but I recognise where and when. My stomach lurches, I always knew my exhibitionism would get me in trouble one day. Now, my shameful secret would be exposed at work and my life would be ruined. I could lose my job.

"What do you want?" I say weakly, "I'll do anything." I think I might faint with the panic that's welling up inside of me, but he smiles reassuringly.

"Don't worry, based on these photos, I think you're going to enjoy what I have in mind. I've seen you looking at me, and I was hoping to ask you out, but you seemed so straight-laced and vanilla. Now though, I think that we can really have some fun."

I squirm a little at the confident leer that he gives me and feel myself growing wet and my nipples stiffening under his gaze. He grabs me, turns me around and suddenly unzips the whole back of my dress from neck to the bottom of my back. His hand brushes my shoulder and the office air-conditioning feels cold against my bare skin.

"Take off your dress," he orders.

"Are you crazy?" I protest, "I'm not just going to..."

He interrupts me with a sharp slap on the thigh. "You'll do what I tell you, when I tell you. You're no longer the boss here. Not if you want your dirty little secret staying between us." He fixes me with a look that makes me realise this is no joke.

"Strip", he orders. This time I can feel he means it.

I try one last time, "but what reassurances do I have..."

"You're not the boss anymore. The sooner you realise that I'm calling the shots now, the better it will be. In fact, you can start by calling me Sir from now on. If you fail to comply I'm going to strip you, then bend you over this desk and spank you until your ass is red." He reaches out and grabs me by the hair, pulling my head back as he leans over me. It's uncomfortable but being dominated by him seems so weirdly normal that I'm not as upset as I know I should be.

His voice is low and menacing but I can't really believe the turn the evening has taken and it's all so surreal. It's time to take back control I think. I'm the boss and this cannot be happening. "Look, I don't know what sort of game you think you're playing, but I've had enough. You need to get out of my office or I'm calling security." My voice doesn't sound as confident as I want it to and I can't bring myself to look at him to see his reaction.

There's silence and I lift my gaze to see him smiling. "I hoped you weren't going to take the easy route. This way will be so much more fun... For me." Suddenly, and with shocking speed, he grabs me and turns me around and in one slick motion grabs both sides of my unzipped dress. Like a magician stripping a table cloth off a table, in one quick jerk, he pulls the dress down into a pool at my feet. I'm left standing in my black lacy bra and knickers and stilettos. I have a moment to feel a wave of shame and excitement about bring dressed, or undressed, this way in my office then without pausing a beat, he bends me over the desk, so my head is flat on the table. I can feel him pressing against my backside and the rough edge of his belt and buckle digging into me. I feel something being wound around my hands which are behind my back and start to struggle, but it's no use. With his knee, he spreads my legs and grinds into my sex possessing me. With my hands tightly bound behind me, my legs spread, and my head pushed down, I am unable to get far.

"Now," he says bending close to my ear, so I can feel his hot breath tickling my lobe, "it's time I help you understand who's really the boss here. You failed to call me Sir and you keep answering back. I'm going to spank you 20 times. I want you to count and say 'thank you Sir' with each strike. If you lose count, I'll start again. Do you understand?"

I can still feel myself wanting to fight back but I can't physically work out how to get out of this situation, so I figure I'll go along with it. How bad can 20 strikes with someone's hand be. Maybe he'll get bored with the lack of reaction and go away. Yes, I decide, that's what I'll do. I'll not give him the satisfaction. Plus, the sensations that pulsed through my pussy when he breathed in my ear have my pulse racing and I'm sort of curious what this will be like. Being spanked has secretly been a fantasy of mine, not that I'd ever dream of acting on it.

"Fine. Get it over with," I say through clenched teeth.

"Get it over with, what?" he says, menacingly.

"Oh, for goodness sake, get it over with Sir," I bite out.

"For that attitude, I'll add five more and I think we'll get rid of these panties," he jeers.

What?! I was just getting used to the idea of being semi-clothed in my office but getting my pussy out for him to see, in my office, seems so much worse. I try to hold my legs together, but I feel a snip and the material covering the apex of my thighs is suddenly gone. The cool air conditioning feels cold against my sex. I hope he can't tell that I'm so turned on and shiver a little, I'm not sure if it's from the cold or anticipation of what's to come.

He slides his hands over my bare backside and cups my ass with them feeling me. I start to wriggle a little hoping that his fingers will press up against my sex, which suddenly feels very needy. Then thwack. With no warning, he lands the first blow on my right cheek.

"Ow!" I exclaim despite myself. That was not a gentle sensual spank and my ass is already throbbing from that one strike.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asks.

I grit my teeth. "One. Thank you, Sir!" I drop as much sarcasm into my tone as I can. He rubs my smarting cheek gently with his hand, before, again without warning, thwack, my left ass cheek explodes in pain. "Argh, ouch," I say, "fuck that hurts."

"And?" He says.

"And two. Goddamn it. Thank you, Sir." I can't believe that's just two. My whole behind feels like it's on fire but curiously so does my clit. Both strikes seem to have some sort of electrifying effect on my pussy which is now sopping wet.

The next three spanks are given in quick succession and I remember to say the number and thank him. "Five, thank you Sir." Just as I think I can't cope with any more he pauses and starts to gently stroke my wounded backside. His palms feel cool on my hot ass. He massages me and slides his fingers down underneath me to my pussy and pauses. He circles his fingers gently over my clit and I nearly buck. I'm so sensitive. It feels like my whole being is concentrated on this one spot on my body.

"I knew you were a dirty little slut. You're turned on by all this aren't you?" he states.

I hang my head in shame as I know he's right. I can't explain why this, being dominated and humiliated like this, is such a turn on. I can't speak. Instead I shift and grind to try to get more from his fingers, but they retreat.

"Oh no, you don't get to cum. This is your punishment. If you take it properly, maybe I'll let you cum, but you'll have to earn it first." He explains. "If you do cum without my permission, I will display you in this window, naked, for the world to see what a slut you are."

With that threat hanging in the air, he continues the onslaught. "Six, thank you Sir." Seven, eight, nine and ten. Again, he pauses to rub and massage my heated flesh and slides his fingers underneath to tease my aching and engorged clit. Again, I wiggle and buck to try and get more satisfaction. He laughs and withdraws. Chuckling at my groan of frustration.

"We're not even halfway done and you're dripping like a tap. You really are some kind of pain slut. I bet you like having your nipples clamped too."

I have no idea, but the words seem to be connecting with something deep inside of me and my nipples contract painfully at the thought of clamps. I decide the best policy is to say nothing. I feel the hands sliding back up my thighs and two fingers gliding into my pussy and my knees go weak. I all but cum then and there as his thumb also strokes my clit. Then the sensations and fingers are gone again, leaving me feeling empty.

I start to panic, he's right, we're not even halfway done yet and I'm so close to cumming. I'm never going to make it without disobeying him and now I believe the threat he made about displaying me. I must resist I tell myself. Maybe the pain from my ass will get to be too much I think. But as if he can read my mind, the next five strokes are less harsh and when he puts his hands on me again, I try not to push back into them so eagerly. Again, he pushes two fingers inside me and I freeze, trying, willing myself not to respond. Slowly, he strokes inside against my g-spot whilst also padding my clit with his thumb. I can't help but let out a moan of pleasure and suddenly I'm on the edge of an orgasm.

"Oh god, please don't," I ask, pleading with him.

"Don't what?" he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "If you want to cum, you better ask permission" Oh God, this is so humiliating, but I feel desperate for some relief as his fingers tease and torture me.

"Please Sir, may I cum?" I ask, dying inside from the humiliation, but anything's better than this desperate aching.

"No, you may not," is his answer. But his thumb and fingers are still pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I squirm and moan. He leans in to whisper in my ear again. "You're under my control now. And I chose what happens to you. You're mine."

Just as I feel the sparks starting to explode at the edge of my vision, he withdraws his hand and thwack, starts again with an onslaught of spanking. I'm so bewildered by the change in pace that it's all I can do to remember to count and thank him. As we reach 20, I start to relax thinking that we're nearing the end. I can take another five. My ass is weirdly numb now, but my clit and pussy are the ones on fire. My thighs are wet, coated with my juices; and I am unconsciously grinding my behind into him, feeling the hard length of him behind me, trying to get satisfaction.

Abruptly he stands me up and turns me to face him. I can see from his expression, and the enormous erection he's not even pretending to hide, that this is having a big effect on him too. His eyes are glistening with lust and I want to have my hands free to grab him and run my fingers over his cock.

"You still have five left you know," he says, with a weird, gleeful expression on his face.

"Okay," I say. "Okay sir," I quickly correct myself on seeing him raise an eyebrow.

He continues, "I thought I might mix things up, seeing as you're finding it all so easy thus far"

Easy? What? Well I'm glad you think so, I think to myself. He lifts me and sits me on my desk, spreading my thighs and looking lustfully at my glistening, naked pussy. Then suddenly, without any warning, he darts forward and spanks my engorged clit hard with his fingers. Again, and again. It's too much. I cum, hard, crying out, as the build-up of sensations takes me over the edge into ecstasy. I come down, shaking from my orgasm and look up at him.

His triumphant smile says it all. "Oh dear. You came without asking permission. Looks like you really wanted to show off your exhibitionist side after all."