This is the first bondage story I ever published so I’m cheating a little for the On The Job 2025 challenge. However, it was a long time ago on a site far far away.
I slide behind my desk hoping nobody will notice my late arrival. My body is stiff from a weekend in bondage and simply being able to move my limbs freely feels awkward. I am even uncomfortable to find myself clothed, at least in the common garments worn in the outside world rather than the tight rubber fetish wear of my enacted fantasies. Having spent most of the weekend gagged I am unsure even of my ability to speak and, when I do, if my mind will be able to formulate normal speech, words that do not convey my submission, guilt, my need to be punished.
As I sit my bottom delivers a warming reminder of the canings and spankings inflicted upon it and I recall how I, after asking for it, I begged for the punishment to stop, whimpering and pleading through my gag, knowing that it would continue regardless of my wishes. Despite it’s exhaustion my body responds, my much abused nipples hardening inside my bra, my sex beginning to moisten inside my knickers. I glance around, paranoid, expecting to find one of my colleagues looking directly at me, focussing on my nipples which I imagine to be straining unmissably against the white silk of my blouse, or a dark patch on my skirt where my juices have soaked through my knickers.
‘Hurt me’ I said just before the gag was pushed into my mouth and I can’t resist saying it again now, my mouth moving almost against my will, my lips and tongue forming the words under my breath. I look around again, my hand guiltily covering my lips but nobody has noticed.
I sense a presence and look up. My boss, Gloria, is standing over my desk. She looks tired and I think she is wearing a little more make up than usual to cover this. She is about five years older than me, early thirty something, tall, not naturally blonde, blue eyed. I like her but she intimidates me sometimes, she is so confident. I see her bend forward and realise I am looking at the deep cleavage between her large breasts which most of the office think have been surgically enhanced. She is wearing a low cut lacy bra and I can see the tops of her big brown areolae and the jut of her nipples.
‘I need you to work on these figures.’ She drops a file on to my desk. ‘Report on my desk by lunchtime.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’ It has slipped out before I could stop it. ‘’Errr...Miss Yates.’
I can feel myself colouring, feel the heat in my face which must now be redder than my hair. I look around frantically hoping for some escape, terrified that the whole office has heard, more terrified that they will have by lunchtime. Gloria is still standing there but I can’t look at her.
‘Er, yes, lunchtime.’ I pick up the file and open it knocking over my tub of pencils which spill on the desk. I risk a look up at her face, an appeal for mercy.
‘On my desk at lunchtime.’ She smiles, I am sure, at my discomfort, her curved darkly pencilled eyebrow arching then she turns and walks back to her office, her long legs outlined by her sheer stockings, hips swaying above her five inch patent heels, buttocks taut against the tight little skirt she likes to wear.
I tidy my desk and start up my workstation and it is at this point I notice it ! I am still wearing a leather cuff on my right wrist. I quickly slip my hand behind my desk and turn it over to unbuckle the strap but find it is locked in place. I curse myself for wearing a short sleeve blouse. I consider getting up and putting my coat on but that would draw even more attention to myself. Then I realise I am wearing a cuff on my left wrist as well. I glance down, I have cuffs locked around my ankles too.
Did I not check the mirror this morning ?
Feeling paranoid I lift my fingers to my throat. At least I am not wearing my collar.
Perhaps everyone will think I’m making some sort of fashion statement.
I settle down to my work but struggle to concentrate wondering if everyone in the office is looking at me. At least my legs are hidden behind my desk.
The figures seem to wriggle out of my mind and as I try to grasp them they swim away but I persevere, keeping my head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone around me. Perhaps, if I get through this morning, this afternoon will be better. I could go out at lunchtime and buy some scissors to cut off the cuffs though it seems a shame to spoil them.
When I next look up it is lunchtime. I have finished the report but I haven’t checked it. I look towards the door of Gloria’s office and see her open it. She looks at me. I smile and nod pointing to the printer, acutely aware of the leather cuff, black and unmissable against my pale freckled skin. Gloria disappears back into her office.
I hit print and stand up feeling suddenly very unsteady. I look down. Did I really come to work in toe boots ? At least the office is empty now. I am the last, apart from Gloria, of course, to go to lunch. I walk awkwardly towards the printer. As I pass the glass panels that form the wall of the office I catch a glimpse of myself and nearly lose my balance. I can’t believe I’ve worn such a diaphenous blouse. It’s the one I use for sexy nights out, sheer white silk. I can see my bra (and my nipples) easily through it. And that skirt ! Black rubber and so tight. Short too. I can clearly see my stocking tops.
Did I really not check the mirror before coming out this morning ?
I retrieve the printout and make my way nervously towards Gloria’s office. Perhaps I should put my coat on. I can say I’m going to lunch. I teeter to the coat rack but can’t see my coat though there is a black leather body harness hanging there.
Surely I didn’t…
I shake my head and turn back to Gloria’s office, pausing for a moment outside the door to compose myself. I can see my reflection clearly. My make up is thick, heavy eyeliner, blusher, thick red lipstick. I look like a whore.
I take a deep breath, knock and open the door, stepping inside.
Gloria is sitting behind her desk. She lifts her head and watches me teeter towards her in my toe boots.
I try to smile.
‘Sorry it’s taken me so long.’ I put the file on her desk.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something ?’
I look round nervously unsure what she is alluding to.
‘Errr…?’
‘Firstly I would point out that you were late for work this morning.’
‘Oh, yes, sorry.’
‘And that report took you a very long time. I also notice you’ve spelt the company name with two ‘l’s.’
I look down, my face reddening. I feel acutely embarrassed.
‘Frankly, Kerry, I’m very disappointed in you.’ Gloria stands. Where did she get those thigh boots ?
‘I’m sorry.’ I mumble.
‘Sorry isn’t good enough.’ Her voice is smooth, controlled, commanding. ‘You must be punished.’
She has a whip tucked into one of her boots.
‘But…’ I want to tell her she can’t do that to me, that as an employee I have rights, but then I notice I am no longer wearing my blouse, just a shiny black rubber peephole bra that matches my skirt. My nipples, poking through, stiffly erect.
‘Yes, Mistress.’ What else can I say ?
‘Bend over the desk.’
I obey, aware how I must look, my rubber coated rear raised and exposed.
‘Spread your legs.’
I shuffle my feet apart.
‘A little wider.’
I stretch my legs so my ankles are at the edges of the desk, not an easy task in toe boots. The movement brings my nipples into contact with the leather covered desk top. Gloria crouches, her thigh boots creaking, and secures my ankle cuffs to the legs of the desk then she stands and walks round to the other end of the desk. She takes hold of my wrists and pulls me along the desktop so I am stretched out lying on the desk, my arms spread. She cuffs my wrists into place.
The words ‘hurt me’ appear in my mind though I make a point of not saying them.
‘Oh, don’t worry, I will.’ Gloria seems a woman in total control. She walks to her office door and locks it. I have been so focussed on what is happening that it hasn’t even occurred to me someone might have walked in on us.
She whips me hard, bringing the crop down on my bottom again and again until I am squirming and yanking at my bonds and crying and begging her to stop.
‘Please !’ I whimper.
I feel her hand on my bottom, her fingers stroke the smooth rubber over my throbbing buttocks.
‘Oh, I think you can take a little more.’ Her voice is measured, utterly controlled.
‘No. Please. No more.’
She beats me again anyway, harsh strokes on my rubber coated rear until it is one mass of throbbing burning pain. I am beyond pleading, beyond begging, I simply cry as she punishes me.
Finally she stops. My breathing is ragged. I am sweating. My vision is blurred with tears.
‘Thank you, Mistress.’ I am not sure if I am thanking her for stopping or for whipping me, both perhaps.
‘Let’s see just how grateful you are, shall we ?’ Gloria climbs up onto the desk on front of me and spreads her legs. She isn’t wearing any knickers. ‘You may as well enjoy it, you won’t be getting anything else to eat today.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’ I lap at her pussy.
‘And you’d better do a more thorough job than you did with that report.’
‘Yes, Mistress.’ I continue to lick her sex finding it wet and extremely responsive. I notice her clit, particularly, responds to gentle flicks from my tongue.
She comes surprisingly quickly, throwing her head back and gasping loudly.
‘Oh, good girl.’ Gloria purrs with satisfaction, stroking my hair. ‘You see what you can do when you put your mind to it.’
She climbs off the desk and bends in front of me displaying her full, firm bottom and pulls on her knickers, black and sheer satin, then turns back to me.
‘Open up.’ She holds the crop in front of my face and, when I take it between my teeth she uses a leather thong to tie it in place, gagging me. Then she disappears behind me and I feel her lift my skirt.