The creaking of the rope as it was tightened on her wrist made her sigh, even as her heart rate increased. Finally, she thought to herself, feeling the tips of his fingers trace the inside line of her arm towards her body. This was what she had been wanting… what she had been craving.
For months she had been His. She knew it to the very core of her being. From the first moment she met Him, she was undeniably His. Slowly, they grew closer; learning everything they could possibly think of about each other through late night phone calls and dinner dates that turned into sunrises being watched from the crappy diner down the road. Everything about Him drew her closer. His voice, His laugh, His insightful take on the world around Him.
For months they grew closer… all of it leading to this moment. This single moment in time where she was finally able to set herself free.
His breath brushed against her neck as He stood behind her, His hands resting on her hips, His fingers drawing circles on her flesh that sent tingles up her spine. “Close your eyes, My lovely little girl. I don’t want you to see: I want you to feel.”
She allowed herself a small smile as her eyes obeyed His voice, how could they not? His voice was the center of her universe tonight. His desires, the catalyst to the inferno that raged beneath her skin. She felt the air move as He stepped back from her and then the gentlest of pressure on her back, pushing her forward until her head rested upon the desk.
And then she waited. No sound… no movement. Her breathing hitched as her mind panicked. Had He left her there? Vulnerable and alone, trussed up and naked for His inspection? No her heart shouted. He has not left. This is His moment. He is simply watching… perhaps waiting. After all she thought, I did tell Him how much I enjoyed the anticipation.
The swoosh of an object through the air was the only warning she received before the heat and sting of His hand connecting to her bare ass reverberated through her. The gasp that she expelled was not of pain though, only surprise.
“Beautiful”, He murmured, tracing the outline of the mark that was sure to be visible against her pale flesh. “Let’s see just how many it will take to set this beautiful ass of yours on fire. Count them for me little girl.”
Without hesitation she said clearly “one, Sir.”
The next slap landed on the opposite cheek, harder than the first. On a gasp she groaned “two Sir”. On and on his hands rained down on her, stinging her ass, heating her flesh and drenching her pussy. She did not waver in her counting, her voice grew louder as a fire ignited within her. When she finally cried out “thirty Sir!”, silence descended and she noticed that she was not the only one whose breathing had changed.
For a moment He let her rest, His hand lingering over the marks left on her backside. Then she felt His body lean over hers and a hand grip her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her throat for His hand. “I can smell your arousal and I can see how wet you are, little girl. Do you want me to take you? Do you want me to make you mine?”
A whimper was all she could push past her lips at His words. Her mind was screaming at her to tell him yes! To beg Him to claim her as His. She longed to open her eyes and plead with Him to take her, but He had ordered her to keep them closed and she could not find the strength to disobey Him. She heard Him chuckle, as if He knew exactly what she was thinking and found her inner turmoil amusing.
“Ah, my beautiful little girl, you will learn to answer me. To think through the fog of desire. I will teach you, but for now I think I cannot wait any longer.” Without another word He pulled back on her hair, raising her further from the desk. He wrapped his hand around her throat and impaled her on His cock with a deep, satisfied groan.
The voice behind her made her jump, even as she rolled her eyes to the ceiling. The voice of her boss was not unexpected, but it was unwelcome. Sandy Cross was, at best, an unpleasant woman, at worst, a tyrant who ran the publishing house her husband owned with an iron fist. A constant micro manager and a permanent thorn in all of the editors sides.
“Yes, Sandy? How can I help you today?” Caroline worked very hard to keep her face relaxed and a pleasant smile on her face. It was still too early on a Monday morning to be dealing with the woman.
“I have an issue with the pages you turned in for the Kellson manuscript. He is coming in today for a meeting and I expect you there to explain the butchering you are proposing on his book.”
Caroline groaned and shook her head. Maxwell Kellson was an ass, as far as Caroline was concerned. A crass, misogynistic writer who seemed to have duped the general public with his pseudo-charming grin and stupid dimples.
“Caroline!” Sandy snapped her fingers in front of Caroline, making her jump and then scowl up at her. “Get your head together and be in my office in an hour. He’s not going to like what you are trying to do with his pages, so be ready for a fight.”
“I’ll be ready.” Without another word, Caroline turned in her chair and returned her focus to her computer, ignoring the huff as she glared at her computer screen. Stupid Maxwell Kellson and his damn book!