My Bosss Master

The following is a work of erotic fiction and is in no way meant to represent real people or events. It is completely written and owned by me, OfStarsAndDreams.

Contents: Sub female POV. M/f, f/f (mild). BDSM, Master/Slave. Office setting, office sex. Cheating wife. Tattoo/Marked subs. Consensual BDSM. Orgasm denial/delay/control. Behavioral correction, discipline, praise. PiV sex. Choking until loss of consciousness. Voyeurism (accidental and intentional). Masturbation (f). Caning, whipping. Spanking. Sex toy use (vibrator, anal plug). Blow job (rough, deep throat). Bondage/immobilization. Teasing. Anal play. Piercing/Tattooing of MC during story. Kissing (brief, f/f). Pantyhose. Professional women.

Let's begin!

*****

Neither me nor my husband had really wanted me to take the job -- we'd both always held very traditional ideals, and it had been my dream from a very young age to be a stay at home wife, tending to the house and a full, loving family -- but the kids never arrived and now Sean had been out of work for over almost a year and the savings were dried up. The tech firm he'd worked for had come under fire after racial statements by the management team had surfaced. They were subsequently bought out and the new owners did some sort of restructuring, laying off part of the workforce involved with certain projects and replacing them with employees that would improve the company's new progressive image. The problem being that most people didn't really understand what had happened and had just... lumped Sean in with all those things he'd had no connection with. Which means no one would hire him.

Which meant I had to find work.

At the time it felt like pure luck that I came to work under Rebecca, though looking back I can't really be sure she hadn't been nosing around after her own purposes from the start. I'd been selling off some of my old things, raising some cash to help until Sean found work, and she'd stopped by to look at some of my nicer dresses -- a pointless luxury when we couldn't afford fancy dinners out. I'd worked hard to keep in shape and, even after twenty years of marriage and with her being a fair bit younger than me, it pleased me to know that we were both the same size. She'd asked why I was selling them, and I... well, something about her just made me feel so at ease that I ended up telling her more than I'd really intended to, about Sean getting laid off, how money had gotten so tight, even how Sean spent most of the day cooped up in his room playing zoning out in front of one screen or another.

Rebecca had been immediately sympathetic, then seemed to light up, like some grand idea had just drifted down into her thoughts. She told me that she actually had been in need of extra hands at her business, someone to do some of the extra paperwork that had been piling up. She offered to take me on, first on a temporary basis, just to clear out the files, but possibly on a permanent basis if things went well after that.

God, I was so thankful. I mean, sure I was uncertain, and anxious, I hadn't had a real job since getting married, but I was so overjoyed that I could have kneeled down and kissed her feet right there.

I guess the peculiarities started on my first day, when Rebecca brought me in and introduced me to James. She informed me that, while she definitively owned and operated the business, James was the office manager and the one who'd be keeping track of the work being done. She explained that she sometimes struggled with the day to day of running a business and depended on James to keep her in line and manage priorities. She joked that, if someone didn't know any better, they'd think James was the boss around here. She wasn't wrong -- James' main job seemed to be assigning Rebecca tasks, evaluating her work and otherwise idly poking at his laptop as he rested his heavy black boots across his desk. He didn't even look like an office worker, more like some hired muscle at a bar, long hair pulled back in a bandana, wearing a worn out band shirt with a faded black vest frayed at the sleeves, all in sharp contrast to Rebecca's neat and trim appearance of button up blouses, pencil skirts, pumps and hose.

Occasionally though, like a sudden storm, he'd get some call or memo that would light a fire under him, swearing and pacing around the small office, typing frantic messages into his computer, banging on his desk and making long strings of phone calls, barking orders, sending long strings of files to Rebecca, and then suddenly stopping as quickly as he'd started, going back to doing large swaths of seemingly nothing, boots up once more. I never once felt threatened or afraid when it happened -- James had, since our introduction always been incredibly respectful towards me -- yet it always put me on edge. I could feel myself straightening up and clamping my knees tight together, like when I was a young girl and had just been told to sit proper and ladylike by my parents.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't at all unhappy to work there. Rebecca was incredibly kind and patient, and the job itself wasn't hard. A lot of data entry, plugging numbers into excel sheets and running calculations. Sending emails using one of several various saved templates. Nothing that required much thought or effort, just the force of will to keep working through the tedium. No, the work itself was mundane and uninteresting, but the office itself was... strange. And not just because of James's outbursts. It wasn't anything anyone would notice at first, really. On the surface everything came across as completely above board. But when you have nothing to do all day your mind starts to wander, and you start... noticing things. You can't help it. And it was all those little things that added up into something I couldn't quite figure it out.

For instance, prim and proper Rebecca, otherwise the perfect image of the modern corporate woman without so much as a hair out of place, had an incongruous tattoo -- a capital letter P inside of a diamond -- on the back of her hand. James had a matching one, his with the letter M. At first I thought it might have been something related to their business, a bond they shared, but some weeks later I saw the same P on the hand of a girl delivering a shipment to the office. At the time I had no idea what it could mean. I doubted severely it was a band logo, but hesitated to believe it was some sort of gang sign. I really didn't want to think I had gotten swept up into something so dangerous.

And then of course there was the blunt way James would inform Rebecca of any mistakes she made, sometimes demanding she stand up and taking her into the back room. A few times I snuck over, pressing my head to the door, and could hear strange noises. I couldn't ever be sure of what I heard, but something in those sounds reminded me of old, forgotten memories -- of the way my parents used to punish my sister and I, with hand or belt, when we'd stepped out of line. I thought it was ridiculous at the time and dismissed the recollections, instead spending long hours pondering on just what could be happening behind that closed door.

Needless to say, I was never pulled into that back room. In fact, James's corrections with me were ever only polite and supportive. I couldn't make sense of it. Why was he so much more cold to Rebecca? Not that he was only cold. When she did well he would never hesitate to point it out or praise her, and encouraged her when she started feeling overwhelmed. He even ordered her to take breaks if she'd been focused on her work for too long.

But, just as his harsh scolding was reserved only for her, so too were his most sincere praises. Looking back... I think that even then I was wishing I could have them for myself. Sean had been ignoring me for so long -- we hadn't even had sex in years -- that I had begun to feel overlooked and neglected. He was never cruel, he was just... never anything. I felt like a ghost in my own house. I craved the kind of devoted attention Rebecca was receiving, even if it was only praise for a job well done.

Though Rebecca, in truth, received more than just words. James would walk by and leave boxes on her desk from time to time, the kind with cloth ribbons or gold foil. She'd never open them in front of me, but sometimes their contents would become apparent soon after -- she'd be sporting a new choker necklace, or be snacking on luxury chocolates. Other times I would never learn the contents. She happily explained that these were incentives, to keep her on task, and that part of becoming successful is to be utterly honest with yourself and learn what it is you really need, deep down, to push you to your fullest potential. She asked me if I'd ever asked myself that question.

I could only admit that no, I hadn't.

She only smiled and said maybe we can find it, together. I had really hoped she was right. I wanted the kind of light and success I could see radiating out of her like the sun. The kind of confidence I never had.

I guess that would be why I didn't leave when things went the way they did. I knew even then that Sean would have wanted me to quit had he known what I'd seen that night, would have ordered me to, actually, and I told myself at the time that I stayed for the money, but in truth I stayed because in my truest heart I wanted what Rebecca had inside her. She knew her truth.

It was the night my phone had fallen out of my purse. I hadn't noticed until I'd already gotten on the bus, meaning I had to wait until I reached the next stop and catch the next bus back -- so it was a good amount of time after leaving that I finally made it back. I didn't consider that the lights were still on -- only half were clicked over, and I presumed it was an anti-theft measure -- but I found myself feeling nervous when I heard the noises coming from near where the three of us had our desks. I knew it was irrational, that it was surely Rebecca or James working late, but I imagined burglars and thieves in the night. In my caution, I crept slowly around the corner, keeping low, which is why James didn't see me before I saw him, ducking down under a desk as soon as I saw what was happening, my heart racing.

James was having sex with Rebecca, right there on the floor of the office. No, having sex is too... clinical to describe what he was doing to her. He was fucking her brains out. I felt flushed and flustered just to see it. Rebecca was wearing... some sort of bit in her mouth, like a horse, the reins of which James clasped in one hand, his other wrapped in a loop of her hair, yanking her back by both, her spine arching up, presenting her naked breasts as if for my viewing pleasure. Rings adorned her swollen nipples, a chain dangling between them, rhythmically falling against he chest each time he thrust into her from behind. Her knees were red and raw from the carpet, and I could see marks across her thighs and breasts from where she'd been struck, presumably by some sort of... cane or switch. He breath came in huffs and gurgles, spit dripping down around the bit in her mouth and coating her pert chest in glistening sheen.

I should have left. I should have snuck out, but I couldn't look away. I could see James's cock -- only the second one I'd ever seen in person, and certainly larger than Sean's -- sliding in and out of her, stretching her hole, which gripped his shaft each time he pulled out, like it was desperate not to let it go free. I saw Rebecca's hand begin to move down her body, seeking that point of heat between her legs, but James grunted and smacked it away using the thin steel whip that I now knew was the cause of those marks, causing Rebecca to whine miserably, whimpering with need and lust. Not for a moment did Jame's pounding cease, but he responded to her miserable noises by promptly pushing her face hard against the ground, grinding it into the carpet.

It was at this point that Rebecca saw me. At first she looked surprised. Understandable, really, considering the situation. I thought that then she'd look ashamed, or mortified, or any number of things other than what actually happened.

She smiled at me.

She smiled at me and pushed her hips hard against James's own like some wild animal in heat, her hands diving back between her legs despite James's very recent discouragement. I could hear her moaning in triumphant satisfaction to finally reach her clit, her hands immediately slicking with the juices James's cock was thrusting out of her, the wetness dripping down the insides of her thighs, over her hands, glistening and filling the air with the smell of her pussy. James responded to her defiance by loosing his grip on her hair and promptly wrapping both hands around her neck, yanking her back upwards, choking her out even as her fingers continued to work with increasing fervor. James didn't let up, Rebecca's lips growing pale, and her actions became increasingly desperate and earnest, her fingers rapidly working her clit, her hips bucking, and it occurred to me all at once, in a horrified realization, that she was trying to get herself off before James's grip would cause her to black out.

She didn't make it. Her body softened against his, her arms fluttering weakly forward, her orgasm unattained. Not that this stopped James. He took a moment to carefully lower her body, so as not to unintentionally hurt her, then continued to pleasure himself with it, forcing himself in and out of her limp form. I could hear Rebecca breathing, recovering air, watched her eyelids begin to flutter as she regained consciousness. It didn't take long, though it felt like it lasted forever, watching James just... grabbing her hips in his hands and use her like a sex toy. She wasn't even completely awake when I saw his body twitch and his pumps become short, quick and deliberate, his motions making it clear he was coming inside her, his cock pushed in as deep as it would go. He then pulled it out, wiped it on her ass, gave it a hard slap, and let it fall to the side. He didn't bother to check on her, instead just making his way to his clothes and beginning to get dressed.

I took that as my cue to leave.

I ordered an Uber -- I was afraid of being on a bus full of people and having someone somehow, impossibly, notice my soaked panties. When I got home I had every intention of dragging Sean off into the bedroom, but... I didn't even get a chance before he complained about me being late, not having dinner ready, and wasting money on an Uber. Later that night, after he'd gone to sleep, I remembered Rebecca's eager, questing hands and brought myself to do something I never did -- I got myself off. As I came I found myself imagining not Sean, but James, primal, unapologetic, and rock hard, slamming down onto Rebecca. The orgasm was like a rent being opened up inside me, and afterwards I felt dirty and ashamed but also like... a great weight had been lifted from me.

Rebecca didn't mention it at work the next day. In fact, she didn't act any differently at all. She was her kind, friendly, self, bright and bubbly and passionate about her work. I struggled to believe it, even going so far as to wonder if I'd dreamed it all. It wasn't until the office was closing that I was provided any hint otherwise. She handed me a box, one similar to the ones James would sometimes leave her. She told me that there was a small hole in the supply closet door and that, if someone wanted, they could hide there and look out into the office. I tried to tell her I didn't understand, but she just smiled and added that, if someone came in early enough, they could slip in before James and her arrived, could watch what the two of them got up to before the day got started. She patted my shoulder and told me that she hoped I appreciated the gift, and that she hoped I used it because I really did deserve it after all my hard work.

After she left I opened her gift, my face immediately flushing scarlet red. It was a vibrator. I'd never owned one before, but I could definitely recognize it. I slammed the lid back shut and quickly hid it in my purse. God forbid Sean were to find it. I told myself I should throw it away, just dump it, or give it back and tell Rebecca she had the wrong idea.

And I most definitely, I was certain, should not go to work early.

Yet somehow the next morning found me slipping into the supply closet, heart pounding in my chest. The small space was dark - I was afraid to even turn on the lights - but that at least made it easy to find the hole Rebecca had told me about. It was low on the door, much lower than anticipated, and I had to kneel and lean forward to look through it. I felt awkward and ridiculous -- my legs were a bit splayed, causing my skirt to ride up around my thighs, and my face was squished up into the door and probably ruining my makeup.

And there I waited, anxious and breathless, fidgeting, until my coworkers arrived. James came first, dropping his thing at his desk, flipping on the lights, the fluorescents coming on with a buzz. I was so scared that somehow, impossibly, he would hear me breathing, that he could hear my heart threatening to tear out of my chest. But if he did, he showed no sign.

Rebecca came in next, leaving her purse on her desk. She didn't so much as glance toward me, instead walking towards James with a warm smile. As she did he started unzipping his pants, nonchalantly pulling out his stiffening cock. Without a word Rebecca elegantly and demurely knelt in front of him, taking his cock into her mouth. First she worked the tip, kissing and licking it sweetly, then pulling more of it into her bit by bit as if savoring it. James, however, seemed to have no patience for her leisurely enjoyment and promptly grabbed her by the back of the head and forced her down onto it, pushing the length of it down into her. I could see the bulge of her throat as it pushed into her, sliding up and down as James fucked her mouth, his hand jerking her head back and forth by her hair.

Now, I'd always considered blowjobs as something... somewhat vulgar and, well, dehumanizing. I had never wanted to do them for Sean, and after a while he'd completely stopped asking for them. Eventually he'd stopped asking for anything at all. But... I was captivated by the scene in front of me. Mesmerized. I could feel a hunger building up inside me, a desperate need. I could feel the heat building between my legs, the wetness building, the flesh stirring. My hands pawed in the darkness for the purse, for the box I'd neither trashed nor opened. I wasn't thinking, it was like they were doing it automatically. I felt this overwhelming urge to have something inside me, as strong as a starving man craves food.

I fumbled the vibrator out of the box and slid my pantyhose and panties down around my knees, trying to at the same time keep my eye on Rebecca choking and gasping for air as James used her like a living sex doll. I pressed the silicone to my pussy, running it between my lips to slicken the surface, shivering as it slid across my clit. And then, nervous but full of need, I pushed it slowly into myself, feeling my hole stretch around it. I shuddered as it filled me, deeper and deeper. It was bigger than I was used to, I realized, but also, I knew, not as big as what James was pushing down into Rebecca. Desire clouding my thoughts, I flipped on the vibration, praying it wouldn't be too loud and felt an immediate pulse flood through me. I found my hands working the vibe into my hole faster and faster before I'd even realized, my other hand moving over my clit. The only way I was able to stay upright at all was by keeping my face pressed against the door, eye to the hole.

I could feel my climax building, closer, closer, but something in me held back. I felt like I was waiting, like I wanted to keep this going as long as possible. But waiting for what? I didn't know the answer until James pushed Rebecca's lips tight to his hips and I saw the bulge in her throat twitch again and again, James shooting his load as deep into her as it could go. My body soared in response, filling me with shuddering waves of pleasure, my legs giving out and dropping me to the floor where I twitched and shuddered and continued to fuck myself, drawing out wave after wave of ecstasy.