I have this office slave girl, sara by name. She likes it spelled with a lower-case 's' because she's a sub, you see. But I'm not her boss. In fact, I'm not anyone's boss. I'm just as low on the corporate totem pole as sara is on the sexual pole. But in her eyes, and hands, I'm the Boss, the Domme. After our boss leaves, usually about 4 PM in the afternoon, W/we wait eagerly until 5, when everyone else is gone. I hide in the ladies room until about 5:30, just to make sure W/we will be alone and I don't know where sara gets off to. I don't care - as long as she comes crawling back to Me in the office of O/our boss, her clothing stripped, her pupils wide with lust, her huge breasts swaying from side to side, very gently, as she makes her way on her hands and knees across the carpet to the back of the desk.
There she finds Me, legs crossed, crop in hand.
Wet. Aching. In control.
she kisses the crop as I extend it towards her. I run it gently across her cheeks, her wet lips.
"Sit up, sara." She does. I run the tip of the crop over her tight shriveled nipples.
"See what I have on My desk, sara?" She does. She nods. It's a huge pink jelly dildo, suction-cupped firmly to the desktop