Tuesday

I spend most of my evening thinking about you. I relive the fantasies that I imagined before yesterday. I think about what happened in your office, feeling ashamed of the way that I enjoyed your abuse of power and the way that my body betrayed me so quickly. I wonder what else you might have in store for me, thinking about the depraved acts that you whispered to me in between your spanks.

The next morning, you walk past me in the corridor and smile wishing me a "Good morning!" as if nothing has changed. I am on edge all day, waiting for you to make your next move. As I walk towards my room to pack up to go home, I wonder if I have got away with it for today, until I see you in the corridor ahead of me, leaning casually against my doorway. "Meet me in my office in 5 minutes," you tell me before abruptly walking off.

After five minutes have elapsed, I knock on the door of your office and enter when instructed. You order me to lock the door. As I turn around to face you again, you pull me towards you and kiss me, forcing your tongue into my mouth. I am kissing you back before my brain has a chance to catch up and remind me how wrong this is. Your kiss becomes more gentle and passionate, overriding all my thoughts.

"Have you been thinking about me all day?" you ask. "Have you been imagining what I might do to you? Were you hoping I would call you in here? I know what a little slut you are and I know what you need. I bet your knickers have been wet all day." Your words send a slight shiver through my body, a heady combination of fear, anticipation, excitement and arousal.

You pull away, keeping one hand on my back. Your other hand reaches into my bra and pulls my breasts up so that they are exposed above my dress. Bending your head, you take a nipple into your mouth, flicking it with your tongue before biting down on it gently. My nipple grows hard and you repeat this treatment on the other side. Each movement sends a tingle down to my clit and pussy and I feel myself becoming wetter.

"Bend over the desk," you order. I pause and look up at you, not wanting to let you know how eager I am to follow your instructions, feeling ashamed of the way that I want to be used by you. "You can bend over my desk," you repeat, "or I can tell everyone what a filthy slut you are." I walk over to your desk and bend at the waist, leaning on my elbows and forearms.

"Pull your skirt up to your waist." I reach behind me and slide the hem of my dress up to my waist, revealing my lacy black knickers to you. Being made to do this myself is worse than if you were pulling my dress up. I try to convince myself that I am only obeying because of the knowledge you have about me and the way you are abusing that power. I don't want to admit, even to myself, that I would follow your instructions even if you weren't holding that threat over me - that makes me sound too much like the filthy, submissive slut that you keep telling me I am.

"Pull your knickers down, but don't let them touch the floor. Keep them above your knees." I hesitate, not wanting to be made to be complicit in exposing myself to you. But I cannot help but obey your natural dominance and the chemistry between us. You were right yesterday - I want this as much as you do. I slowly pull my knickers over my ass and slide them down my thighs. I realise that the only way to keep them from falling to my ankles is to spread my legs, further exposing myself to you. Blushing, I widen my legs until the knickers are held taut just above my knees.

"Good girl," you tell me. "I knew you'd be an obedient sub. Now spread your cheeks." My blush intensifies as I reach my hands behind me and pull my ass cheeks apart, exposing both of my holes to you. I feel the cold wood of your desk against my exposed tits and I can sense your penetrating stare inspecting me. Then I feel your finger rubbing around the entrance to my pussy. You slide your finger inside me and then withdraw it and push it into my mouth, making me suck my juices from it. "You're already soaked," you comment, "and I've barely touched you yet. You really are a slut. My slut."

This time, two of your fingers push into my pussy. "Who does this pussy belong to?" you ask. I hesitate, knowing the answer you are looking for but not wanting to confirm it out loud. Your fingers push harder and deeper into me and I gasp.

"You, Sir," I whisper.

"That's right," you answer. "This pussy belongs to me. You're my slut. My fucktoy. My slave. I've been wanting to have you to myself for so long. It pleased me greatly when I found your profile on FetLife."

I feel one of your fingers begin to circle my asshole and then gently but firmly push inside. "Have you ever been fucked in the ass?" you ask.

"Not really, Sir." I answer. "An ex-boyfriend tried a few times, but it was too painful."

"Your ass is mine and I will fuck it soon. But I will make sure you are ready for it," you reply, withdrawing your finger. "But today I want to fuck this dripping wet pussy. Place your elbows back on the desk."

I release my cheeks and return to my earlier position, propping myself up on my elbows and forearms. Behind me, I hear you unzip your flies before I feel the head of your hard cock nudging at the entrance to my pussy. You push your cock forwards, slowly but insistently, and I moan as I feel you stretching me. But you remind me of where we are and threaten to gag me if I can't be quiet. Then you begin to thrust in and out, speeding up until you are pounding into me relentlessly. I struggle to suppress my moans and my breathing becomes ragged as I feel you finally spurt your cum inside me. You pull out and wipe your cock clean on the inside of my dress before doing your flies back up.

"Stay exactly where you are," you order. "I have some work to finish off." You sit down next to me at your computer. I remain still, my ass exposed, feeling your cum dripping out of me. "You may play with yourself," you tell me. "But you must ask for my permission before you cum. And remember to stay quiet. You don't want anyone else finding you in here like that..."

I reach one hand between my legs and begin to rub my clit, your cum now dripping down my leg. You reach out a hand occasionally to grope my tits, squeezing them and pinching my nipples. "Mmm, that's the best stress toy I've ever owned," you comment as your fingers dig into the flesh of my tits. I am humiliated by this objectification of my body and your reminder of your ownership of it, and disappointed that you are not paying more attention to me, but I also find that your words bring me closer to orgasm. My orgasm ripples through my body and I moan softly.

"Did you ask me if you could cum?" you say. I realise my mistake and begin to babble an apology. "I don't have time to punish you now," you continue, ignoring my pleading apology, "so it will have to wait until tomorrow. Do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?" I shake my head. "Good. You'll be coming home with me. I want to be able to hear your cries when I punish you. Now pull up your knickers. Don't clean yourself up until you get home. For your sake, I hope everyone else has already gone home by now so you don't meet anyone in the corridor on your way out...". You kiss me and give me an affectionate hug before unlocking your office door.

Luckily, the corridors are deserted and I get to my car without seeing anyone else. Once I get home, I play with myself, bringing myself to another orgasm. Despite my apprehension about your threatened punishment, I'm already looking forward to 'enduring' more of your abuse of power.