Brief introduction: this is the first real erotic story I've written, having been a longtime reader/lurker and a longtime lover of BDSM and rough sex. This is based very much on my own fantasies - "Sarah" is based on myself and my own life and "Kenneth" in this story is based on one of my bosses. The sexual nature of the relationship is not one that has happened in real life... (Yet?)
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Her heart fluttered when she saw his name pop up in the lower right side of her laptop screen. She knew she wasn't the only one at the firm whose breathing quickened when they saw a notification from him.
He was one of the partners at the accounting firm she worked for. Known for his bluntly worded feedback, demanding expectations, and his particular style of putting employees on the spot, it was no wonder he struck fear in the hearts of many of his colleagues.
Sarah quickly opened her inbox and clicked on the email, hoping it was one of his standard bullet point lists of where you messed up, and how he fixed it. These emails had varying levels of condescension, sometimes they were quick pointers and sometimes they were downright hurtful.
The subject line was the name of one of his clients for which she'd recently completed a complex project for. As she read the one line that made up the email, her heart sank.
"Come see me when you have a chance, Thx."
She would have to go speak to him in his office. Sarah dreaded going in there. Located in the further corners of their 15th floor office space, he preferred his workspace quiet and far away from the chattier members of the firm. He always kept the blinds drawn, and Sarah had always likened his office to a batcave of sorts. An explosion of paperwork constantly surrounded him, piles of documents, binders, and boxes that made it difficult to navigate your way in there. All of this added to the discomfort one felt when being addressed by him.
Sarah grabbed a pen and her notebook, flipping to a fresh page. She began mentally preparing herself to speak to him, wishing his email had given her any inclination as to what he might want so she could prepare herself further. She stood up and smoothed down her outfit. It was summer, which meant she took advantage of the few months of warmth and alternated between her many sundresses. Today she wore a simple black dress with a lace floral print around the bottom. It clung to her small figure. She straightened the tight blazer she wore over it and fiddled with the long necklace that sat on her medium sized chest. Clutching her notebook against her chest, she quickly made her way across the office. She brought the notebook with her in case she needed to jot something down he wanted her to do or follow up on, but truthfully it was moreso a tool to keep her hands busy. His eyes on her had the effect of making her feel extremely self aware and fidgety.
She approached his partially opened office door. Taking a deep breath, she hurried up to it and rapped twice on the door.
"Come on in," he called out, not turning around from his multiple screens. Sarah stepped in and stood waiting at the table that separated them while he finished typing a sentence in an email. She surveyed the office. There was not a clear table surface anywhere. Sarah wondered if he deliberately kept it so uninviting and dim.
"I need help understanding some these adjustments you guys made," he spoke, "pull up a seat and we can go through some of these."
He still hadn't turned around to face her. He began pulling up the relevant worksheets as she slipped her notebook and pencil under her arm and struggled to pull up a chair beside him and his screens, being careful to not hit anything or tip over any piles.
He made some room for her chair and turned towards her, quickly surveyed her, his eyes landing on her shoes as they always did before turning back to his screen. He did this often, and it added to her feelings of self consciousness.
She sat down and fiddled with her notebook's spiral. As he pulled up documents and spreadsheets on his screens, she wracked her brain with something to say to fill the silence. He wasn't one for small talk, and unlike many of the others in the office, rarely discussed his personal life or bothered asking others about theirs.
Instead, sarah studied the side of his face. She had only admitted it to one of her colleagues (who was also a friend), but she felt an unusual and undeniable attraction to him. Kenneth was in his mid 40s, she guessed. He was tall and kept himself in good shape. His body had the leanness of a regular runner. Normally he wore a freshly pressed dress shirt and dress pants unless there was a client meeting, in which case he wore a suit. His clothes all fit him snugly, showing off his lean muscles. He had a full head of hair that he kept short, and was normally clean shaven. Ever since the pandemic restrictions took effect, he had let his facial hair grow - to Sarah's conflicting dismay and glee.
She held her knees together tightly. Her close proximity to Kenneth meant if she relaxed her legs, her right knee would bump into his left one. She felt a temptation to relax and let their knees touch, but she quelled this desire and refocused her attention on the spreadsheet he pulled up on the screen closest to her. She knew they were breaking the office rules - they were both supposed to be masked up and maintaining a social distance. She found herself wishing she'd remembered to slip on her mask before she came over - having half her face hidden may have given her a small degree of comfort.
His brow furrowed as he began explaining the importance of detailed documentation. No other partner at their firm insisted on such a high level of detail and scrutiny. While this often made him a pain to work for, the extreme level of detail did make his projects easier to follow than others'.
"...for example, here you noted that the balance didn't require a write-down, however this comment over here suggests..." He droned on as Sarah struggled to remember what her thought process was when she had submitted this file 2 weeks prior.
She knew he'd finish off his explanation with a question that she would have to have an answer to. It was often a rhetorical one, worded in such a way that made you feel small and idiotic.
As her colleague had asked her multiple times, what exactly did she find so irresistible about this man? Was it his constant disapproving tone? Sarah often found that she craved his rare praise. It strangely made her feel worthy when he recognized her good work and praised her for it. This didn't happen regularly, as he normally only brought her work up to critique it. She maintained professionalism when responding to his criticisms no matter how condescending they were, always thanking him for his feedback and reminders.
"...I know I've reminded you of this in the past and it's imperative that you make sure to do this moving forward," he said to her. It was when he looked at her directly that she felt her hands inevitably began to shake slightly. His eyes were both her favorite and least favorite feature about him. They were light blue, and absolutely piercing when he made direct eye contact. It gave her a strange sense of fear, and she often found herself looking down when she spoke to him, afraid that if she made direct eye contact she might lose her train of thought.
"Yes, right, sorry about that," she stammered as she scribbled down a point in her notebook that she was sure would make no sense to her later. "It must've slipped my mind -"
"This isn't the first time it's slipped your mind," he cut her off, not breaking eye contact. She didn't know how to respond. She felt her face heating up as his eyes seemed to look straight through her. She broke eye contact and looked down into her lap. "I'm sorry," she responded meekly.
