Even if I didn't already know for sure, anyone could tell it was your last night in the office prior to a major trip. It was the way you kept rushing from issue to issue, obviously trying to cross off as much as possible prior to your departure. As a result, everyone, including me, kept their heads down. Days like today were fairly predictable: what you found efficient, others found chaotic and very unfriendly, especially when you got stressed and the glare became constant.
The fact that I was sleeping with the boss didn't seem to offer me much protection on days like today, other than sometimes knowing what bra and knickers combination you were wearing that day.
Even if I hadn't spent the night and seen you get dressed, I knew they would always be matching, usually Italian and quite expensive, but always matching. It was just one of your quirks, along with never agreeing to morning meetings unless good coffee was provided and an almost anal obsession with grammar.
I often wondered what the office reaction would be if it became common knowledge that we were.... well, obviously not a couple, but something.
I guess bonk buddies was the closest appropriate term although that didn't account for the power dynamic when you got angry or stressed about the office and practically forced/ordered me to give you some relief. Not that I got particularly upset about that; for some reason dominant women in authority have always turned me on. A bit like Lucy Liu in Charlie's Angels when she wears the black leather outfit, but in your case obviously not Chinese. The rest of the image, however, seemed quite appropriate: short, thin, small high breasts and a surprisingly flexible body from your years of ballet, with a preference for kinky outfits.
If only the rest of the office knew what a kinky bitch you were underneath your corporate exterior. Your collection of sex toys alone - dildos, vibrators, nipple clamps, strap-ons, slave collars, costumes, patent leather stiletto boots and sex swing - would provide enough stock to start a small sex shop. Instead all they saw was the obsessive, occasionally manic, career bitch who seemed to have only a passing awareness of her department.
It still surprised me that you had revealed your other side to me when you "took" me at that conference. Technically I suppose what you did could be considered rape, but I have always shied away from the definition, primarily because I wanted it just as much as you did, even if I couldn't articulate that need at the time. Somehow you knew that tripping me to the ground and smothering me with your cunt until I licked you to orgasm, with your heels against my ears, was something I absolutely needed. The fact that you immediately walked off to your next conference seminar as soon as you had cum only cemented your dominance.
As a result, by the time you returned to find me still in your room I was already your bitch, even before you pulled the strap-on from your bag. I still remember the way you made me look into your eyes so you could see my transformation as your strap-on slowly but irresistibly penetrated me until I could feel your groin tight against mine and you officially made me your "bitch." Even now, just thinking about that day makes my cock hard.
I could hear you around the corner, berating a colleague for something or other, almost certainly not their doing, but being found at fault anyway. As the rant finished I heard you walking towards me. Keeping my head down I concentrated on my work in the hope you would just keep going, but no joy. Without even stopping I heard your voice ring out, "Rupert, be in my office in five minutes with the Landau-Masters file and make sure it is up to date before you get there."
So much for keeping my head down, I thought as I went to get the file. Landau and Masters were two high profile clients with a massively dysfunctional relationship, which generated no end of grief for us back in the office, but who senior management seemed to love due to the huge fees they generated. Quickly reviewing the file to check it was current, I made my way to your office and knocked.
As usual your only response was "Enter, close the door." Even though I knew this was how you usually responded to someone at your office door, I grinned quietly to myself, grateful that I wasn't insecure.
"I've got the file..." I began, but you interrupted me abruptly.
"Shut up and listen. I am going to have to work late to get everything ready for the trip, but I need some relief. I don't care if you go home once your work is finished, but be downstairs in the car park at 2130h."
I listened intently as you clarified your expectations. To be precise, at 2130h exactly I was to be bent over the bonnet of your car, trousers down, a blindfold around my eyes and my ass lubed.
"What about security...?" I began, but you interrupted me again.
