The Raise

The rest of the day was pure agony. My gut was gnawing with the knowledge of what I'd signed myself up for, while at the same time my heart was thudding happily over the thought that my financial worries were gone. A little lower than the sinking feeling in my stomach, my groin tickled a slow burn, exacerbated every time I shifted my legs. My mound, circled and squeezed by the hole cut in my pantyhose, would brush my skirt and suddenly feel as obvious as if it had been lit with neon. Logically I knew no one could tell what I was wearing under the demure skirt, which hit just below my knees. Emotionally, I was sure every man who filtered in and out of the office that day was aware of my helpless nudity.

I'm sure my job suffered. In fact, I know it did- twice I had to ask callers to repeat their names, and I'm reasonably sure I got a few wrong anyway. One poor customer who entered the building to speak to Craig had to wait half a minute before I even noticed his presence and blushingly buzzed him in. I'm sure the workers filtering through between jobs thought I'd lost my mind, but none of them asked what was the matter.

None except Pete. His manner of asking was none too delicate, though. After returning from a job site, he dropped his sweating, dusty body onto the edge of my desk and leaned in to peer at me too closely. "You look like shit."

"Ever the gentleman," I snapped in return, shifting my chair and monitor so that I wasn't looking at him.

"Hey, I try and show a little concern, and all I get is the blow-off? Catch me tryin' to be nice again," Pete drawled, his accent faintly Southern. I'd heard someone say Pete came from South Carolina, and it sounded about right.

"Didn't sound particularly nice to me. Get off my desk, would you? I'm trying to work here." I did my best to sound commanding, but Pete never was easy to order around. He leaned closer now, breathing in with a shit-eating grin on his face before murmuring near my ear.

"You smell like pussy. Did you know that?"

"Get the fuck off my desk, NOW." The violence of the order moved him where asking politely hadn't. He dropped off, still grinning, and sauntered away to help himself to some coffee in the next room. I sat staring blindly at my computer, trying to control my trembling. Enough. I had to get a grip on myself then and there, or I would have run screaming out of the building and lost everything. Not just my new chance, but my old job too. Then where would I be? Where would Penny be? Not in her pricey suite with her dedicated helpers anymore, that was for sure. I knew I couldn't meet my sister's needs at home. For her sake, I had to try.

I managed reasonably well until five 'til five. Closing time, or nearly so. That was when Craig's email arrived in my inbox, the contents brusque and to the point.

"This is your last chance to back out. Leave now if you've decided not to go through with this. If you're still willing, come to my office when everyone else is gone. Lock the door first."

I took a deep breath, willing myself to calm. I'd already made my decision. My decision was for Penny. My decision was for me.

When the others finally left, long fingers of sunset-orange light pushing through the blinds, I locked the door behind them- especially Pete. My legs felt strange as I walked the short distance to Craig's office. Just as my hand was reaching for the doorknob, the intercom squawked.

"Stop, slut." Craig's voice, amplified, sounded even more forbidding. I rocked to a stop, wincing faintly at his use of the derogatory word. A breath was drawn through my nose, and I waited. "Listen to me, and listen carefully. I will give you three rules. Over time you'll learn more, but these first three rules are the most important. Remove your shirt."

The offhand order caught me off guard, but after a few seconds my hands lifted to my buttons, trembling so badly it was difficult to undo the fastenings of my blouse. Only when I'd started to undress did Craig continue, a hint of impatience creeping into the brassy, mechanized voice. "Rule one is to do everything I tell you to do immediately. No hesitation. Your slowness to remove your shirt has earned you punishment, which you will understand shortly."

I'm certain my face went white, and my speed in unbuttoning doubled as I all but tore the buttons free. The shirt was pulled off, my hands themselves shaking as I folded it and set it on the nearest desk.

"Remove your skirt."

This time, I was prepared, and afraid. I fumbled the hook and eye closure open, then unzipped the dark tweed skirt and let it drop, stepping out of it. Craig sounded more satisfied when he continued, while I folded the skirt and laid it on top of the blouse. I felt horribly exposed.

"Rule number two. Your body is my property. Mine, not yours. You will not get any tattoos, piercings, or haircuts without my permission. You will not be engaging in any sexual activity without my permission- and that includes masturbation. You will not, however, ever deny me my right to your body, or whoever I might choose to share it with."

I felt an icy prickle on my exposed skin at that thought. He might hand me over to someone else? I opened my mouth to ask, then thought better of it, snapping it shut. I stood there in bra and ruined pantyhose, my sex ludicrously framed and squeezed by the hole in the nylons and my body acutely aware of it.

"Rule number three. If you attempt to go to the police about something I have done to you, or make any retaliatory attempts, I will ruin you. I have the connections, I have the money. Is that perfectly understood?"

He waited, and I cleared my throat and answered loudly enough to be heard through the door, hugging my arms over my bare midriff. "Yes, Master."

"Good. Now get the rest of your clothes off and kneel by the door."

I hesitated, I admit. I was afraid to stand there nude in the office I worked in every day, the memories of the other employees there to judge me. There were, too, the windows- the blinds were down, but it wasn't impossible for a peeping tom to peer through them. It took a few calming breaths before I lifted my hands and unhooked my bra, sliding the straps from my shoulders and letting it fall on top of my folded clothes. My nipples hardened immediately in the cool air of the office, goosebumps prickling my arms as my aereola crinkled. If I hadn't had another task to complete, I would have crossed my arms over my bare, small-breasted chest. Instead I peeled off my pantyhose, bending at the waist to step out of them and setting aside the ruined pair before peering down at the carpet in front of the door. I was to kneel on it.

Kneeling...I'd never kneeled to anyone before, except in church as a young girl. Before church lost all of its appeal. Just pretend you're taking communion...and then the blasphemous thought popped in my mind that perhaps I was going to be asked to put flesh in my mouth this time, too. The crazy urge to laugh dropped me to my knees as much as anything, and there I rested, peering up at the door.

I had waited a full ten seconds before it opened, and there was Craig. He was still dressed, which came as a shock- but I understood almost immediately why. Clothes were power. Nudity, helplessness. The disparity of our conditions was underlined by our state of dress. He looked me up and down, faintly frowning, before nodding and reaching forward. His hand came to rest under my chin, tilting it up. He peered into my face for a long moment before lifting his hand and backhanding me sharply across the cheek.

I must have cried out. I know I started to cry. His response was brusque and impersonal. "That is for taking your shirt off slowly. Next, we will have to do something about your hesitation to kneel." With that, his hand closed in my hair, foot nudging my thigh to prod me to rise, half-hauled by my dark mane.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, as much from the shock as from the pain. Craig had always seemed gentle and restrained, if powerful. Incapable of anger. But the violence all seemed so matter of fact, delivered with the attitude of a long-suffering parent. It was a pity, his air seemed to say, that I could not do things correctly, and it was a further pity that his unpleasant duty was to correct me.

His methodical voice went on as he tugged me by my hair over to my own desk, shoving me forward when I reached it so that I had to catch myself on the end. "Any hesitation to carry out my demands implies that you're having second thoughts about doing so. There can be no second thoughts. No hesitation. If I ask you to staple your nipple to your desk, you will do it, and immediately." My heart was trying to pound through my chest at this point, painfully thudding against my ribs as his hand at the back of my head suddenly pressed down, shoving my stinging cheek against the wooden desk. "Is that understood?"

My answer was instant, and desperate. "Yes, Master!" The pressure was immediately relieved.

"Good. Hands behind your back and spread your legs." I didn't hesitate, thrusting my hands behind my back as requested and spreading my legs until my toes touched the legs of the desk, along the short end I was pressed against. I felt cool steel on my wrists and nearly panicked as the handcuffs were locked snugly into place, securing my arms at the small of my back. "These are temporary. Metal can be dangerous, so I don't suggest you struggle." Then he paused. His turn to hesitate, before he gave his brisk order. "Turn around."

I obeyed, of course, shivering with cold and with something close to terror as I turned to face him, my cheek still red where he'd slapped me. "Lie back." I draped myself carefully back on the desk, butt perched on the edge of it, and with his hand pressing on my shoulder, I lay back on the desk, legs dangling off the edge. Satisfied, he moved away, off toward the warehouse area where the equipment was kept.

I had a moment to myself, then, shivering and already uncomfortable where the cuffs were digging into my back and wrists, under my weight. Only a moment, filled with wild thoughts about what the hell I thought I was doing, before he was back. He carried with him a coil of rope, the type the crews used to secure loose items in the trucks, and fed one end between my back and my arms, looping it so that it went over one arm and under the other. I gave a small shudder when his hand brushed the small of my back, muscles twitching as goosebumps rose on the skin he'd touched. The rope's ends were then dropped to the floor, and he tugged my legs apart with impersonal hands on my knees. I went from pale to red-faced in an instant as I felt the lips of my sex lazily part as my legs were spread.

Each ankle was tied tightly to the legs of the desk, and the pressure exerted on the handcuffs kept my arms hard against the desktop, pinning me down neatly. I felt like a butterfly on display, pinned to a board, my groin spread by the position and back arched so that my small breasts stood up proudly. Craig stood back after he was finished, surveying his handiwork with remote satisfaction for a few seconds before speaking.

"Good. I wanted to see your face." With those ominous words he stooped, picking up the other item he'd brought with him. It was a ruler- eighteen inches, made of wood. Soon, I was thankful it wasn't one with a metal edge. "This punishment is for pausing before you kneeled. If you hesitate before carrying out my orders, the result...is...pain."

On the last deliberate word he lashed out with the impromptu cane and pain exploded on my labia, the ruler smacking across both and grazing my inner thigh. My back arched, and this time I know I screamed. It echoed in the empty office. It didn't stop, or even slow him.

The second lash landed on my right lip, the third on my left in quick succession. Each blow was given with sufficient force that for a numb, shocked moment I felt no pain. Just an instant of nothing but knowledge of the impact, and then each bit of flesh felt as if it had exploded. I dimly remember being shocked, when he brought the ruler back up to swing again, that it didn't have any blood on it.

The fourth was worse. He landed it dead center, the wood thwacking down between my lips to make me shriek with panic as much as pain. I didn't know real pain yet- that came with strike five. With my labia parted by the fourth blow, the fifth caught me smack in my most sensitive areas, the tip of the ruler licking off my clit as it was raised. My toes curled up, mouth opening in a raw scream as I yanked against my bonds.

Five lashes were deemed sufficient, but by the end of them I felt as if my groin would split, and tears matted my eyelashes. I breathed with the rapid pace of one on the edge of hysterics as I sunk back down onto the desk, and stared up at him wildly when he stopped. Was he done, now?

What I saw gave me pause. He was watching my face intently, pale eyes focused on my expressions. My sweat, the redness of my face. His free hand reached in and fondled my reddened, swelling cuntlips, and when I winced I saw him smile, slow and quiet. "That's right," he murmured. "That is what happens when you're disobedient. And now, you will thank me."

Thank him?! For what, for beating my most sensitive parts with a strip of wood, for staring at me like a psychopath while he did it? I could hardly fathom the idea- but before I knew it, my desperate lips had parted, and my traitor voice said, "Thank you, Master." I flushed hotly, but the words couldn't be taken back. I'd thanked him for beating me...like a slave. Anything to avoid another beating. My crotch thudded with pain, every pulse of my heart sending blood through stinging vessels.

His smile widened, and his hand dropped to begin to unfasten his belt. He pulled it from his pants, considered it, and looked back at me. I swallowed heavily. I'd already been pained enough, hadn't I? But for now, he dropped the belt and unfastened his pants, lowering the zipper and pushing them and his boxers down to his knees. His cock was already erect, and I'm certain my eyes bulged.

Craig was large. Not simply large, but what must have been nearly ten inches- larger than anything I'd ever tried to put inside me, real or plastic. It was angry red and purple, neatly circumcised, bobbing as he pushed his pants out of the way and eased between my legs, aiming with the tip. "Are you on birth control, cunt?"

"Yes, Master." I couldn't keep my voice from shaking badly, as the head already oozing precum prodded against my painful labia, then touched the slick flesh between them. He was teasing for now, hips shifting minutely as he let his monster explore my outsides.

"Excellent. We'll do without a condom, then." He pressed in just slightly, eyes narrowing as his slick tip nudged against my entrance. Not pressing in, not yet, but letting me know he was there. I was almost pleased to see him tighten his jaw slightly, just to know that any of it caused him to have to visibly control himself. But my mind was more on something else, right that moment.

"But--"

That was all I got out, before he shot me a furious look that dropped me into silence. His hand reached up, grabbing one of my erect nipples and giving it a sharp twist, hard enough to bring tears to my eyes again. I cried out, but he held it in that position a long few seconds before letting it go. "Do not...question me." To drive the lesson home, he gave my reddened nipple a light smack, making my breast bob with a little jolt of pain. Only then did he answer the question I hadn't been able to finish. "I'm clean. As are you."

I didn't ask, of course. We'd had company-ordered physicals the month before, and an STD test had been part of them. Now I knew why, and it made my face burn. He'd planned this far in advance, hadn't he? Just waited until he knew my need was sharp before he made his move.

And now, he made another move. With a small roll of his hips, he increased the pressure against my vaginal opening, and I am ashamed to say he didn't meet much resistance. The pain from the beating he'd delivered was still present, but much dulled by then, and in its place it had left just increased blood flow and an instant heat. My body had responded by making me wet.

"Look at me."

I had closed my eyes when I felt his head slide into me, pausing just inside me. I opened them now, staring up at him as he pushed just a little further into me, his eyes on mine. His hands rested on the desk at either side of me as the head of his cock rested inside my still-throbbing labia, forcing me to maintain eye contact with him. I could quite literally feel my body adjusting to the thick intruder, muscles relaxing and the skin around my entrance stretching.

"Keep watching me. I want you to see. I want to see you." His command was murmured, his gaze almost loving in its intensity.

"Yes, Master." My voice almost broke on my reply, and I blinked back a sudden swell of tears. Not successfully, though- two broke free and trailed down my cheeks, and a smile suddenly lit his face. A bright and satisfied expression, and then Craig shoved his hips forward in a fast, brutal thrust.

I bit my lip savagely hard to keep from yelling as he slammed his length into me, giving my body no time to adjust and only getting perhaps half his cock into me before running into too much resistance to continue. He had a steady little smile on his face as he stared down at me, locking eyes with me as he drew back and thrust forward again. This time he lodged himself a little deeper in me, though he also provoked a yelp of pain as he hammered against taut, unprepared muscles.

"You're going to let me in." It was a command, hissed from between gritted teeth as Craig drew back. He twitched his hips as he pulled almost free of me, his tip shifting inside me as if exploring my every inch. His teeth were bared in a savage smile as he drove forward again, my body giving way a little more this time. "All the way."

Pain in my pussy, pain in my shoulders forced unnaturally back, pain in my back and wrists where the metal handcuffs dug in against soft skin- it was overwhelming. My face was burning hot, as Craig set up a slow rhythm. His way got easier with every stroke in and out, my body opening up to him whether I wanted it to or not, my belly starting to heat in response to his intrusion. I couldn't cope with it, all of a sudden, and I looked away. It was a mistake. There was a picture on my desk- my mother, Penny and I, when the two of us were still just kids with our whole lives ahead of us. It was like being slapped all over again, and I shut my eyes. I wish I could have shut my ears to the moist, sucking noise of Craig's cock digging relentlessly into me.

My eyes flew open again when my breasts were seized. One in each hand, Craig squeezed hard, my nipples darkening as they peeked out over his thumbs. "Look at me," he commanded sharply, his voice thick with excitement. I met his eyes and found them glittering in a way I'd never seen before, the expression wild. Feral. Dangerous. He smiled again, all teeth, and maintained his grasp on my tits as he slammed his hips forward. I gave a startled cry, back arching involuntarily as he yanked on my breasts as if they were reins.

That movement more than anything else must have helped him, because this time he sank fully into me. I felt the tip of his cock hammer against the hard knot of my cervix, and the soft warmth of his balls nestle against my still stinging cuntlips. He paused there to savor the moment, thumbs running over my nipples as my pussy twitched around him, burning flesh still trying to adjust to the thick, long intruder.

"There, you see? Why did you take so long to let me in?" His voice was a parody of concern, thumbs still rubbing their slow circles over my squeezed nipples. I ran my tongue over my dry lips, voice crackling as I tried to answer.

"Master, I just...couldn't..."

"Stop. That is never an answer." His hands squeezed tighter around my tits, hard enough to leave bruises, before his voice deepened to a growl and his hips began to move again. Slow for now, he drew back and then slammed forward again, each shove into my already pained body a punctuation mark for his words.

"I never want to hear that you can't." His sac slapped into me with a damp smack as his tool dug into the core of my body. "I never want to hear an excuse." He gave my tits a brutal yank as he shoved himself into me again, pale eyes boring into me, his face beginning to redden with his arousal and effort. "And certainly not about fitting me in you." This time the desk gave a creak of protest as he shoved his whole weight into me, pinning my legs against the edge of the desk and making me whimper. "Not when your whole...purpose..." He was panting by now, the thrusts coming faster and timed with yanks on my breasts, drawing my body slightly up and into his. "Is to take my cock...in your body."

He finally released my breasts, the blood surging back into them and turning white handprints red, aching immediately. It didn't provide any relief, as then he seized my ass, dragging it forward the small distance it could go so he could begin to pound me in earnest. His hands dug into my fleshy cheeks as his hips pistoned, my insides feeling as if they were having a plunger applied to them. His weight made the cuffs dig horribly into the small of my back, his thrusts made my stomach jolt with every ram into my womb, my shoulders felt as though they would dislocate, my throat ached with the sheer sensation of fullness, and still I was too afraid to stop looking at him. He kept his eye contact with my, lips drawn back from his teeth in a savage grimace as he pumped into me.

I thought that certainly, at least, at this pace he wouldn't last long. I didn't have much experience with men, but I had enough not to expect a marathon session. Maybe that's why he grinned, the cords of his neck standing out with the effort, when he slowed down. Every thrust became a slow tease, a drawn out withdrawal of hard flesh from soft, going slow to make sure I could feel every vein of him. He released one of my ass cheeks, his hand stroking along the top of my mound before his thumb settled on the hood of my clit. I must have looked confused, behind the fear, but I soon understood. The sheer mortification I felt when my body lit up to his touch was answer enough for why he'd started to rub slow circles over the little nub of flesh.

"Oh..." The sound startled me, before I realized I had made it. It was a murmur of surprised pleasure, spilling over dry lips as a shiver of arousal went directly to my spine. As my belly heated to a slow burn, I began to feel every inch of him in a different way. Not pain, now, but near-painful awareness of every bump and slick plane of him. I could feel his swollen head catching in my flesh with every near withdrawal, my body sucking it back in hungrily. The noise made Craig chuckle, warm and breathless.

"You like that, don't you? Dirty little bitch." The insult was carelessly tossed off, sounding almost affectionate. I'm sure I looked wounded, but he didn't care- he just started rubbing me a little faster, each circle of his thumb punctuated by a loose, almost lazy thrust of his hips. I was wet enough by then that each thrust was accompanied by a soft slurp of sound, and I could feel sticky liquid trickling into the crack of my ass. As he sped up my hips lifted slightly, involuntarily, despite the increased pressure on the hands cuffed under me. My face was red, my shame digging as deeply into me as Craig, but I wanted more of that touch.

With that, his hand was withdrawn, a moment later coming down in a sharp little smack against my engorged clit. "No. I'm in control, not you." His tone was curt, a little unsteady with his own arousal. I yelped at the unexpected strike, bucking against my bounds, which only made him hit me again, right on the same spot. This time I kept my reaction to a whimper, holding rigidly still as he thrust into me double-quick, no longer making any effort to arouse me.

It hurt like hell, but what came as a real shock was that after the sting of pain from the slaps faded, I was left even more aroused than before. Every thrust was delicious heat being passed over supersensitive flesh. When Craig bent to murmur into my face, inches from me, his angle changed and I caught my breath as his head began to bang away on my walls. "I want you to cum, slave. Cum in the next ten seconds or I'll give you twenty lashes with my belt."

The threat made my heart race, and I nodded desperately. I couldn't lift my hips, though, couldn't move- how was I to do anything? His face was clouding, and I realized I'd only nodded. I blurted out my reply as he picked up his pace, pistoning savagely into me. "Yes, Master..."

I focused, then. Focused on the sensation of his large cock plunging into me, of his heavy balls slapping into my vulva, on the still-throbbing pain of my labia, my tits, my clit...I strained slightly and spread my knees just a bit more, straining to feel every inch of his slippery flesh as he pumped me. I was excited to feel a tingle beginning in my abused clit as it began to flush with blood, but I still needed that extra bump. Just as I had the thought, Craig bent over me, his angle changing again as he grasped my left breast, squeezing it lightly before wrapping his warm mouth around my nipple and giving it a long, hard suck. That was all I needed.

I shouted as I went over the edge, his huge shaft like an iron bar inside me as I squeezed down on it convulsively. My belly shuddered, my back arching and toes curling up as I gasped for air. I'd never cum so hard in my life, and it seemed to go on for several seconds. Even the muscles in the small of my back clamped up, my entire lower body concentrated on the delicious spasm that made my vision dim redly.

As I came out of it, I was suddenly, sharply aware of Craig's continued pounding. It was no longer pleasant, but raspingly painful in the aftermath of my orgasm, my flesh made unbearably sensitive. Feeling as if I was having sandpaper dragged over my pussy, I winced, and Craig, incredibly, laughed as he straightened.

"What a horny little bitch. You cum when a man beats you, ties you to a desk, mauls your tits, and shoves his cock in you. The perfect woman." His hands wandered up my sides, agonizingly tender as all of me was. "But you haven't thanked me."

"Thank you, Master," I gasped out in reply. Satisfied, he dipped his head low again, and this time his teeth rather than his lips seized my nipple. He bit down sharply enough to make me scream, then held the little nub of flesh between his teeth steadily, flicking his tongue over it as he thrust away. His grasp only tightened as he built to a crescendo, and incredibly I felt my own arousal building again. The discomfort in my cunt faded in comparison to the white hot pain in my bitten nipple, brought to a peak by the teasing scrapes of his tongue as he rutted me. I was on the verge of cumming again, desperate for it, when he stiffened. His teeth ground down and I squealed like a pig.

With the pain as an agonizing distraction, it was a second or two before I recognized another sensation- hot semen spilling into me. Craig continued to thrust urgently, sloppily now after his brief pause. His teeth kept their unbearable grasp on my tit as he spurted into me, but the physical pain seemed meaningless now compared to the wave of intense humiliation that swept me. As my arousal started to fade, I was acutely conscious of what had happened. Was happening. I was tied over my desk, beaten, conquered, my boss's cock shoved deeply into me and now spraying my insides victoriously with his cum. And I'd volunteered for it. Silently, steadily, I started to weep.

Craig's teeth released me, and the wave of pain it provoked was almost worse than the initial bite. I cried out, then began to sob in earnest, and as if to drive the point home he pulled out his shaft and aimed the last spurt of semen onto my stomach. I stared at the white blob through tear-clouded eyes, as he gave a satisfied sigh and turned away. He stooped awkwardly, his still-rigid cock bobbing obscenely, covered in both our juices, and picked up my blouse. The pretty bit of cloth was used as casually as if it had been a paper towel, to wipe Craig clean. He tossed my blouse, one of my favorites, casually down onto the floor before striding over to me again. I felt his finger scrape at my abused, gaping entrance a moment before it lifted to my lips, coated in both of our secretions. "Open up," he commanded with a crooked little smile. It was an expression I had found endearing, before now.

I did it, though. I was afraid not to. I opened my mouth and he slid his finger in, and I tasted the musky salt and almost gagged on it. He swirled his finger around my mouth with relish, as he talked to me. "You were dripping. Now...I want you to say 'Thank you, Master, for the gift of your sperm." He withdrew his finger then, and gestured for me to speak.

I was almost crying too hard to manage it, but after a gulping breath I choked out, "Thank you, M-master, for the...for the gift of your sperm." He seemed satisfied, turning away and simply leaving me there as he pulled his pants up over his softening member, then pulled my chair over to have a seat at my desk. He selected a pen, my favorite as it happened, and a piece of paper, and began to write. As he did so he reached out with his free hand, absently grabbing my breast to knead it between his fingers. It was the one he'd bitten, still purple and aching from the harsh treatment, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out again. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He still smirked, not glancing up from his writing, which looked to be a list.

When he was finished he put the pen down then stood, finally pulling out a pocket knife to slice the ropes close to the knots. I did yell as he pulled me to my feet, the circulation returning to my limbs painfully as he unlocked the cuffs and slipped them into his pocket. I stayed standing, but only just, my legs splayed awkwardly and my hands brought forward to rub at my dented wrists. My hair fell forward into my tear-drenched face, and Craig took a step back and studied me while I sniveled, disgusted with myself even for that.

It was a long moment before he spoke, and when he did he stepped forward to smooth my hair back from my face. It was an oddly tender gesture, until his fingers dug in against the crown of my skull, forcing my head up to look at him. "On your desk is a list of items to buy. You will take the day off tomorrow and take care of it, then go home and wait for me there. Several of the items are starred. I expect you to figure out what to do with those by the time I get there."

He leaned in then, and my eyes widened before they shut tightly, as if that could drive him away. He kissed me anyway, hard and demanding, grazing his teeth on my lower lip before he pulled back. "Don't bathe until the morning. I want you to smell me all night. Now get dressed, slut, before I decided you want a little more." With that he grasped both my ass cheeks, giving them a firm squeeze before he turned away and strode dismissively off to his office. I stood in stunned silence a moment before scrambling for my clothes, cringing as I put on the cum-stiffened blouse. It smelled like us both, and though I put my coat on over it I was sure everyone on the bus would be able to smell me. Then, too, my hose were ruined, I had no panties, and I was sure I would drip onto the seats.

Suffice it to say, when I tore out the door with my list in hand, I decided to walk all the way home.