All night after I got home from work, and all during my morning jog, shower, and my commute to work, I replayed the incredible, scintillating sex Trent and I had the afternoon before, stretching the last bits of pleasure out as long as I could in my memory. I don't know what it is about him, but I knew I wanted more.
I arrived, logged into my workstation, and was soon able to push out thoughts of Trent and focus on the job. I was engrossed in my work at my cubicle at mid-morning when Trent's voice startled me.
"Show me," he said.
"AAH!" I shrieked. I had no idea he was standing there. I swung my head around to see him staring at me with the same unveiled hunger from the day before. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"
"Show me," he repeated, utterly calm, ignoring my complaint. I knew what he wanted me to do.
"People might see!" I hissed in protest.
"That's my concern. Don't make me ask again. Show me." His tone indicated he would tolerate no further talk. It was the same tone that made me wonder what would happen if I kept protesting.
I turned my chair toward him and, while staring into his eyes, slowly and deliberately pulled my skirt to show him a very sexy pair of thong Victoria's Secret panties, which I had picked just for him that morning. My obedience to him completely overcame my sense of fear and shame.
"No stockings today," he observed. He paused. I began to become nervous as time ticked away, my panties on display to anyone who walked by.
"Give me those," he pointed to my crotch. I glanced around, raised my ass off the chair, shinnied out of my panties, then handed them to him. He brought them to his nose while looking me in the eyes. He closed his eyes, inhaled, then looked directly at me again.
"Remember that I tasked you to anticipate what I need and want at any given moment," he stated. "My needs and wants happen throughout the day, and you need to be ready. I know there are times that you cannot be ready for me. You will tell me in advance about these moments." I nodded, as I had heard this yesterday.
He folded my panties and tucked them into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
"We will be eating lunch at my office today," he stated.
I had lunch plans with one of the other interns. We planned to hit a bar together and gossip. "Actually, I was going to have lunch wi--"
"You're eating with me today." he said, matter-of-factly. The hunger in his eyes briefly tinged with anger.
"I will make some calls," I conceded.
***
Two hours later, I was standing in the doorway to Trent's office, waiting for him to finish a telephone call. When he saw me there, he waved me in and pointed at the floor next to his desk. I listened to his call as I walked to where he pointed.
"Yes. I have told you exactly what I want done... You know I don't care how you do it... Yeah, just be sure you get it done on time... That's fine, yes... Look, I have a personnel discipline issue that I need to work on. We will check in about this on Monday." He listened for a few more seconds, then said, "Yeah, right now. Talk Monday. Yeah. Bye." He hung up the phone, then pushed the "do not disturb" button.
He looked up at me. The hunger was there, but so was something slightly sinister: frustration? anger? I figured it was about his phone call. He kept looking at me for several seconds. I became self-conscious.
"Stand still," he ordered. I suddenly became aware that I had been fidgeting in place. I planted both feet on the floor and folded my hands in front of me. I kept standing under his gaze, becoming ever more insecure. It dawned on me that I was likely the "personnel discipline" he was talking about, though I had absolutely no idea what I had done.
Trent leaned down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk. He produced a white gift box from a high-end ladies' boutique, which he placed on his desk.
"Open that."
I reached out with a slightly trembling hand and picked up the box. "La Perla" was embossed on the front. Inside was a garter belt and three pairs of new stockings in different colors.
"You will no longer wear slacks or pantsuits at work, nor will you have bare legs or wear pantyhose. You will wear only skirts with stockings to work. This is now part of your dress code. Do you understand?"
I nodded.
"Is that a 'yes'?"
"Yes."
"Explain in your own words what I just said." This seemed like such a simple rule. Why was he quizzing me like a child?
"I can only wear skirts, no pants, and that probably means no jumpsuits, either." He nodded in confirmation. I continued. "And only stockings and garters under my... uh..." as the words came out, I remembered something Trent said this morning at my desk. "... my uh... skirt." My voice went down an octave and was barely audible as I finished: "And no panties or other undergarments except during my period." I blushed as I these last words came out of my mouth.
"Yes. Correct. I am glad you and I communicate so well." I felt relieved and even a little proud. I stood in place, staring at him for an awkward moment.
He raised his eyebrows, nodded at the box, and said, "Now."
I glanced at his open office door, then at him, then back at the door. I took a step toward the door to close it.
"Stop," Trent intervened. I froze one step away from the desk. "You have been instructed about the dress code and instructed to comply. Stand where I told you and Finish. Getting. Dressed." There was an edge in his voice as he said the last three words. I knew for certain the disciplinary problem was me.
I stepped back to my spot next to Trent's desk. It was unlikely anyone would visit during lunch, but the very thought that a coworker would see me if they walked into Trent's office caused me nearly paralytic fear. I hesitated, box in my hands, office door wide open, heart rate elevated, breathing shallow. My mind was a tangled mess of thoughts and motivations that was all being poached in steaming pot of my own arousal.
Trent stood from his chair. He took the gift box from my hands, put it on his desk, then sat on the edge immediately before me. Our bodies were a foot apart, and I could feel his heat in my tits, abdomen, and pussy.
"What is your role on our team?" he asked.
"To anticipate your needs and wants, and to fulfill them." I said with confidence.
He reached up to my cheek and touched it gingerly with his fingers. Heat radiated from his fingers into my cheek, across my face, then down through my neck. I closed my eyes and tilted my head down. He grasped my chin gently and pointed my face back at him. I opened my eyes to find I was staring directly into his.
Holding my gaze, he continued our conversation. "What do you do if I give you an instruction?" He released my chin and let his fingers trace their way down so that his thumb and fingers were gently brushing opposite sides of my neck.
"I obey." I breathed, my arousal building.
"When do I expect you to obey my instructions?" he asked, as his hand traced its way over my clothed breast.
"Immediately," I whispered as my nipple responded through my bra. Arousal changed to lust.
"After I give you an instruction, what else should you be worried about?" he said, his hand sweeping over my waist to my hip then around to my ass.
Trent must never say anything that does not have meaning, and this morning's conversation was no exception.
"Nothing. Everything else is your concern." My voice was ragged. Lust changed to ache. I knew right then that I would again do anything Trent wanted.
"Very smart," he said. The compliment had me breathless. I felt him move his hand from my ass to grasp my hand. He directed it to the waist of my skirt. "So, what do you do now?"
I looked into his eyes and bit my lower lip, wanton with need. He sat back in his chair, then re-established eye contact.
I held his gaze as I pulled each of my heels off, then reached around my back, unzipped my skirt, and let it fall to the floor. The tails of my blouse mostly covered my naked pussy and ass, but I was very aware of the open door and the cool, air-conditioned breeze across my naked pussy.
I reached into the box and grabbed the garter belt. I lifted the tails of my shirt and camisole and held them against my chest with my chin. I wrapped the garter belt around my waist, fastened the hooks, moved the closure around to the back, and released my shirttails. I chose the nude-colored stockings from the box and gathered one stocking from welt to toe. I lifted my right foot and slid it into the stocking, being careful to get the heel and toe straight. I put my foot onto the edge of the desk and eased the stocking over my calf, knee, and thigh, working slowly so I didn't damage the material. I fastened the suspender in front and put my foot on the floor before fastening the suspender in the back.
I did the same with the other foot, moving equally slowly. Trent watched every small movement. My vulnerability and compliance, combined with his burning gaze, made my heart race. My desire for Trent screamed out for release.
I checked for gathers and twists, and then adjusted the suspender straps to make sure everything stayed put. I picked my skirt up from the floor, oriented the zipper to the back, then slipped it over my head and down to my waist, making sure my blouse was neatly tucked in. I zipped up, slipped my feet back into my heels, then waited for more instructions.
Trent stood, strode across the office, and closed the door. He returned only to stand so close behind me that I could feel his breath on my neck. He reached around to the front of my skirt and grasped the hem with one hand. He pulled it up high enough to get his other hand under the skirt, where I felt his fingers glide deeply into my damp folds. As he massaged my pussy, his other hand moved up to grab my left breast. I groaned, aglow with pleasure, and leaned into him. My swoon had the opposite result of what I hoped for. He withdrew both hands, placed them on my hips, and said,
"You're aroused. Do you think you deserve pleasure?"
I had never heard the word "deserve" in a conversation about sex. In all my sexual encounters, I wanted it, my partner wanted it, and we fucked. There was no discussion about worthiness.
