Oh my. I’m late! I pick up my bag and run out of the door.
9:30. My bag made a loud banging sound when I tried to put it on my desk. Huffing and puffing from walking faster than usual. Shit….the noise would have disturbed the boss who is likely to be doing his reading of the board papers whilst it is quiet in the morning. He does not like to be disturbed when he is doing so.
The office is quiet, as we like. On a quiet floor where only two of us work. I like this quiet office that we chose, except for the fact that the we can each hear whatever we are doing.
“Oh, there you are. Can you come in?” I hear my boss’ voice from his office.
Should I ask him to give me 5 minutes? No….probably not.
“Yes” I try to breathe deeply but failed.
As I walk into his office, he takes off his glasses and puts them on the desk. He looks slightly irritated.
“Good morning Sir”. I try to smile as if nothing has happened.
He intentionally glances at his watch on his left wrist. Bastard! You know the time.
“My apologies….” I start before he says anything. But, with his stern look, I stopped making excuses about why I was late. It doesn’t matter…..
“Do you know how much mess you are?”
With his words, I put my hand on my cheek and it’s still so hot. From running to here, and by his words. I know my hairs are falling from a bun made on top of my head. Untidy. Oh shit. Probably my make ups are now ugly too. I should’ve asked for 5 minutes to check and fix myself.
“Why happened ?” he quietly asks. My last chance.
I could’ve said that the bus ran late. My cat tipped over a glass of water….the cat ran out of the house….(no that’s too unreal) or…. something. He wasn’t an unreasonable boss. I’ve never been late.
What I couldn’t say was…..I couldn’t say that I was dreaming about him last night and forgot to put my alarm on.
He starts to tap his fingers on the desk. His long, beautiful fingers that I like. The fingers that make me hot and crazy. ….Oh no. He is getting irritated. I’m back from the fantasy world I was in for a moment. It’s also too late to make up excuses and I can’t lie to him. That’s our promise. He would’ve known anyway if I lied.
“Nothing sir. I just slept in” I give him a simple answer which wasn’t a lie, lowering my eyes not to look at him.
“Why?” He asks curiously, looking at me from head to toe. Oh…you bastard…. Thanks. You aren’t letting me go. Yeah. I never came late into work as I start work almost 2 hours early.
“I was too tired, I guess” Determined not to give him the answer, I give him the minimum answer again.
“Why were you tired? Do you need a day off?” He asks, slightly smiling and acting like such an understanding nice boss. Now he is tormenting me.
You know why! (or partly, that is)
Last night, over the texts, we played a game. A game of domination and submission. With his imagination and with my imagination. For me, it’s the game of brain and sex. I concentrate on his words and think on the spot how I want to respond. Then, I also have my hands on my body, touching myself. Playing the game and climaxing several times as he ordered me, were tiring enough.
What he doesn’t know, is that usually after such a game, my mind wants to replay the game over and over again, so I play with myself after our texts have ended, replaying the texts or even changing the scenario. Until I came so many times that I was exhausted and fell asleep. I was still dreaming about him.
…Then, I forgot to set the alarm.
“No, sir. It’s fine and apologies again for being late”. I say, and casually try to walk out of his office.
“I didn’t say you are dismissed” I hear him say to my back. My hand which was trying to open the door stops.
I turn around. He stands up from the chair , takes off his jacket, takes off his cuffs, rolls up his sleeves, and quietly walks towards me. I shiver again, anticipating what will come next. Do I see his desire too? He puts his hand behind my neck and another around my waist. Damn. He is now too close. My makeup is a mess, I smell my sweat and I smell….
“I’m sorry….Sir” As I say, his hand grabbing my neck gets stronger.
“Hands on the desk” His dark voice says into my right ear. I shiver and look at him but only his cold green eyes look me back telling me to do as I was told.
I quietly walk to the big old wooden desk. A Victorian style desk that the boss likes. He is still standing close to the door looking at me. Well, I can’t see him, I don’t want to look back, but I’m pretty sure that that’s what he is doing. Looking at me as if I am his prey.
I put my palm of my hands on the desk. Cold and yet warm wood. I lower my arm, then my upper body on the desk too. I put my head on one of the hands.
Before he says anything, I elevate my butt in the air. I feel my short skirt is slowly moving up by itself. Yuck. I should’ve chosen a longer skirt today. He chuckles.
I hear him slipping his belt off. My urge to look back is so strong, but I know what is happening. I know it’ll hurt but I can’t help feeling aroused. I wonder how much he can smell me now. Texting game never replaces real acts. Real punishments.
With a short whistle, and without a warmup, the belt hits my ass. I clench my teeth not to make a sound. I know he wants me to make a sound and show that I gave in. Gave in to him, his power. But I don’t want to make a sound.
Ten hard blows. He is clearly not happy that I didn’t tell him what’s happened to me. He is not happy that I am not making any sound.
My leg trembles and I start to cry. I bite the palm of my hands so that I won’t make a sound.
He sighs, pulls me up from behind, wipes my tears with his hand and caresses my cheek. I close my eyes and put my head on his shoulder.
After a short moment, I move myself away from him. He is looking at me as if he would take here on his desk. I ignore and acts as if I didn’t notice his desire.
I start walking towards the door.
“So, you still haven’t told me why you were late” I hear him amusingly say from my back as he holds my hand which was just about to turn the door nob.
I freeze.
…Damn……His breathing that I can hear just next to me gets heavier. My breathing stops for a moment, and then gets heavier too, just as if my body knows what’s coming next.
Damn you, my Master. How can you control me so much? Why do I want to be punished by you so much?