Wednesday dawned, marking the heart of the work week. As I sipped my coffee, I couldn't help but count down the days: just three more with Mr. Ryan and only three days until I would once again be in the presence of Mr. George. The anticipation hung in the air, and I could feel the thrill of what lay ahead.
Kneeling beside the towering bookshelf in Mr. Ryan's office, I felt a thrilling mix of excitement and nervousness. My eyes scanned the vibrant titles, each a portal to another world, and I imagined Mr. Ryan immersed in their pages, uncovering secrets and adventures just waiting to be found.
Mr. Ryan was in a meeting, and when he was in a meeting, he liked me to kneel in this corner the way I am doing now. I loved following Mr. Ryan's orders. My pussy was wet simply because I was obeying one of his commands. I rubbed my thighs together, trying to find some release.
Mr. Ryan does not allow me to touch myself unless he is present to watch, forcing me to resist the impulse to touch myself. Somehow this only makes me more horny for Mr. Ryan.
Suddenly, Mr. Ryan entered the room, his broad shoulders filling the space with intensity. Without a word, he rushed to his desk and began typing furiously. The air crackled with anticipation as I wondered what dramatic news had just come from his meeting.
However, I did not express these thoughts because Mr. Ryan does not allow me to speak unless I am spoken to. In many ways, Mr. Ryan is similar to Mr. George. However, where Mr. George is soft, Mr. Ryan is rough, and where Mr. George is kind, Mr. Ryan is mean.
Finally, Mr. Ryan's dark eyes met mine, and I held his gaze. The carpet on the ground was digging into my knees, and I longed to stand up and stretch my legs. I tried to tell Mr. Ryan this with my eyes.
Please. My eyes begged.
My plan must have worked because, at that moment, Mr. Ryan said, "Come, pet."
I sprang to my feet and treasured the stretching sensation. I walked over to Mr. Ryan and kneeled between his legs, where he pointed.
This morning, before he went to his meeting, he commanded me to strip, and so I was already naked.
Naked and willing.
He stroked my hair like I was simply a cat perched at his side. I leaned into his touch, savoring the rare moment of softness from Mr. Ryan.
He grabbed his duffel bag from beside him and pulled out a black collar. The collar had leather on the outside and padding on the inside.
On the tag, it read:
Office Slut
And it had a padlock on it, so whoever wore it needed the key to take it off.
"I wanted to collar you for these next few days," Mr. Ryan said, "So you could feel what it's like to be mine."
I was excited as I admired the collar and shiny key in his other hand. I felt like I was glowing, like I had accomplished a significant feat.
I raised my chin to offer Mr. Ryan my neck. He smiled softly at me as he placed the collar around my neck and buckled it. Then, he ran the lock through the loop and used the shiny key to lock it.
When I heard the click, my heart fluttered. I felt close to Mr. Ryan then and wondered why Mr. George had never collared me.
As if he sensed that my thoughts had wandered to Mr. George, Mr. Ryan touched my cheek before bending down to give me a deep, passionate kiss. Suddenly, I had no thoughts at all.
"You've been such a good slut lately; I am going to reward you today," Mr. Ryan said after he pulled away a few moments later.
"Thank you, Mr. Ryan." I beamed at him.
He gave me that soft smile again, and I wondered if I was beginning to thaw his chilly exterior.
"Go sit on the couch," Mr. Ryan instructed.
I walked to the couch and sat on its fluffy cushion. I was thankful I was not bending over the couch for once and was acutely aware of the new collar around my neck. The collar gave me such satisfaction and almost a feeling of safety that I would be sad to take it off.
