The next day came, and looming over everything I did in my day-to-day duties was the knowledge that I was to meet Valerie -- my boss, tormentor and mistress -- at five o'clock on the dot, down in the cubicle hidden away in the basement archival sections of our law firm.
It was not long after lunch, however, when one of my fellow interns -- a nice young girl named Janine, a friend of my wife's whom we had known since our Uni days -- tracked me down with some bad news. "Hey Jeremy: No-Vadge wants to see you," she informed me.
My blood ran cold, as though I had been injected with liquid nitrogen: it seemed 'No-Vadge Valerie' was not content to wait til five o'clock. "Fuck," I breathed.
"You okay, Jerry?" Janine asked me, with genuine concern. "You've gone all white."
I shook my head, and tried to laugh it off. "You know old No-Vadge," I shrugged. "The evil bitch is sure to have some kind of hell in store."
"Well, good luck," Janine called, as she hurried off on another errand. I watched her go, wishing she could know how very dearly I needed the luck she wished me...
I hurried to Valerie's top-floor corner office. I didn't want to get there in a hurry, but I was worried if she had to wait too long for me it would provoke her to ever-more unkind acts.
I approached Valerie's office with dread crawling all over me. She had one of the coveted corner offices with a gorgeous view over the harbour, separated from the rest of the office by full floor-to-ceiling-length glass panelling with a door right in the middle of the panels, the door fashioned from some ornate kind of wood -- oak, or cedar, or some such. It allowed her to keep a watchful eye over the goings-on of the plebeians with their desks scattered across the general floor-space of the upper level, and it also meant that she could always see you coming when you answered her summons.
She spotted me very quickly, and even from across the floor I could see the smug, evil look on her face -- a face that held terrible portents for my pathetic self.
How I hated being in the position I was, how I hated being under her control, being her bitch... though I couldn't help but admit, when the heat was on and she had me doing terrible, depraved, humiliatingly sexual things to myself, it riled me up like nothing else. I didn't understand it and it worried me like hell, but it was the truth. I hated it... but I loved it, too.
I opened the door and entered her office, shutting the door behind me. "Hello Jeremy," she smirked, unkindly.
I chose to say nothing, merely awaiting my fate.
She seemed amused by my defiant silence. "So I was thinking to myself: 'how I do love toying with that Jeremy.' It's such a lot of fun; everybody needs a bitch, I reckon," she grinned, evilly. "It's a great way to work out your frustrations, putting your bitch down like only a bitch deserves."
I maintained my silence, wondering how many times she could pack the 'bitch' word into one sentence.
"So I was feeling bored, and it occurred to me: why should I wait til five o'clock?" she went on. "After all, I'm in charge here -- you have to do as I say, when I say, or I'll fire your sorry arse and destroy you forever. You do know I can -- and will -- destroy you, if ever I feel like doing so..."
An answer was required, so I nodded. Just once.
"Very good," she praised, hollowly. "Okay then: strip."
I blinked -- I was unprepared for that, and I hesitated.
"Go on..." she urged, with a smirk, as though she was encouraging a precocious puppy to relieve itself in the back yard. "Get those clothes off."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. She wanted me to strip? Right there? In her office, with the glass walls, in full view of everyone...?
"Go on!" she repeated, less kindly this time. "Step back, step hard back against the door -- you stay close enough to that door, there's less chance someone will see you. They might see you, if they come close enough... but I don't get many visitors, people round here don't seem to enjoy my pithy banter," she grinned, as though she took pleasure in her ball-busting, get-ahead-at-all-costs reputation.
My shoulders fell: she wasn't joking. She was serious. She would have me strip, right there, in her office... the wooden door was wide and high, it would shield me from most of the people out there, but there was always the chance someone might walk up, someone might see me... and if they did: what then?
The jig would be up, I foresaw. It would all be over. Valerie would cry innocent, she would accuse me of bailing her up in her office and performing lewdly and against her will, and if I wasn't fired on the spot I would instead be charged with indecent exposure and hauled off in chains. But if I didn't do it... if I disobeyed Valerie... she would fire me, or instead make me do something even more humiliating, she would make me strip and run naked through the office, or worse...
"Come on, Jizzy Jeremy," she cooed, tauntingly. "You know you want to..." and she nodded at my pants, which I realised contained a large and obvious bulge -- that damn cock of mine. As much as her orders scared me and humiliated me, my cock somehow took a perverse pleasure in my subjugation and grew hard at her merest command, swelling and slithering serpentine in my pants like a python on growth hormones.
Sighing in defeat, I started to remove my clothes, stepping back to nestle hard up against the heavy wooden door as I did so.
"Good boy..." she praised sarcastically, as my clothes hit the floor. "Now go on -- beat one off. I want to watch you make yourself come," she purred, evilly. "Better make it quick, too..."
That much we were agreed on -- I wanted to spend as short a time as possible, naked and exposed in her office, so I set to work on myself with vigour.
But it was hard going. Valerie, sitting behind her desk, did nothing to spur me on; she simply sat there, leaning back in her chair, an elbow up on the armrest and her chin cradled thoughtfully, amusedly in her hand as she watched. In our prior sessions she'd join me in masturbating, she'd gradually show me more and more until she was as naked as I, as we pleasured ourselves in front of each other and got off on watching the other -- but here and now, in her office, masturbating on my own, I couldn't make myself come.
How typical, I thought as I pounded frantically away. Exactly when I need to come straight away, it was going to take all day.
My orgasm was probably held at bay by the fear. I didn't want to get caught by anybody else. It would mean the end of my employment with the firm, for sure. There would be no coming back from that: busted, naked and aroused and masturbating in a senior lawyer's corner office... perhaps that was her plan. She had grown bored of me already, and wanted my downfall to be as spectacular as possible.
I was determined to triumph. I was determined to bring on my orgasm, and beat Valerie this time. I tipped my head back, shut my eyes and imagined; I put my situation and my surroundings out of my mind and I imagined sexy things, thinking sexy thoughts, bringing up sexy images and memories to kindle my arousal. And to my surprise, I found myself automatically thinking back on my prior sessions with Valerie...
...thinking on how she busted me, in this very pose, down in the basement in front of my webcam...
