Another day wasted and another night spent at the office. I know I should sit back and take things in stride, but I fancy living in the moment way to much for relaxation to be of any use. It sort of happens like this: you spend enough time caught up doing the things that seem right, like engrossing yourself with work, pushing yourself to work harder than a squirrel storing food for winter when, suddenly, you realize the snow is already melting with the heat of spring. And maybe that's why I end up enjoying life less than I should.

It wasn't like I really cared about the things I wanted—making money is the most important thing in my life. Everything else comes in a far-away second place. And I have absolutely no shame admitting that fact; with all of the elements of my life that feel so empty and unfulfilling, that one fact equates to such bliss. But when I end up occasionally sleeping through meetings or being sloppy with my paperwork out of pure disinterest, I have to make up for it after-hours which is so much better because everyone else in the building is—thank God—gone for the night. And I have free run of my office, my floor, the entire complex.

As I started work running the numbers for a new project—whose bid would go out in two days' time—the most awful, obnoxious excuse for music I ever had the misfortune to hear, ruined the pitiful moments of solitude I had hoped to revel in. I lifted my hands from my keyboard and, in the most calm, collected manner, balled them into fists. The force with which I clenched them caused my fingernails to dig into the soft, tender skin of my palms, and it was an oddly calming sensation, despite the pain. I listened to the heavy thudding as it radiated from down the hallway, thundering its way into my ears. I felt the beginnings of a migraine pound with each thump of the bass. Yet, as it suddenly became softer and softer with each passing second, I miserably hoped that the perpetrator of the awful cacophony had chosen to turn the volume down. But, when the beginning of the next horrendous 'song' burst forth, I shot to my feet with the full intention of beating the ever-loving snot out of whoever thought their actions were acceptable in a place of business, even at this hour.

I marched down the hall and stopped just outside the door, listening to the relentless thump of the instrumentals and the trance-like rapping from the singer. I grabbed a-hold of the doorknob and stormed into the room. "What the fuck, I can't work with your goddamn music. Who do you think you are-" As I stopped short, a man, in what appeared to be his late 30s smirked in pure, unadulterated smug satisfaction from behind his desk. He might have been handsome, if he hadn't been so atrociously obvious as he eyeballed me in a crude manner—I felt his eyes roaming my body and I curled my lip in disgust. As his gaze traveled the length of my body not once, but twice, he licked his lips and began some sort of misguided, pseudo-interrogation. "You didn't bother knocking, sweetheart. Just who do you think you are?"

I bit back in a nasty taunt only because the guy across the room appeared to be a foot taller than me and much, much larger. I was no match for him and if things went awry I was toast. "Who do I think I am? Your fucking boss, asshole."

"You've got a mouth on you," he said with the faintest hint of displeasure and condescension and as I turned to leave, I couldn't resist the urge to cut the ties that connected my brain to my mouth and just let it shoot off on its own.

"Just who the hell do you think you are? You think you can just blast your shitty music from your office while other people might be around working?" I braced my palms on the edge of his desk and leaned forward over it, staring him down. He didn't even flinch, and didn't that just infuriate me. I watched as the man stood up to his full height, readjusted his tie, and glared back at me with unmeasured arrogance.

"I'm your fucking project manager. I'm the 'asshole' who sits behind his desk all day and makes you more money. So shut up and go back to your office before you start something that I will—most assuredly—finish. I don't have time to listening to your whining. A simple 'please turn down your music' would have sufficed." He looked down at me, his expression composed so as not to betray even one clue as to what he was thinking, then, ever so graciously, calmly dismissed me by nodding towards the door.

"Your arrogance is appalling—you do know that I am your superior. I could fire you! And make sure you-"

"Never get a job in corporate affairs ever again? Are you quite serious? I think you over-exaggerate this position of importance you think you have."

As my blood boiled and my firsts clenched, I debated whether or not to pummel his arrogant face into the ground where he stood. But every time I thought of his blood smeared into the carpeted floor I also thought about how he could easily snap my meager frame in half. "Have fun looking for a new job," I said calmly as I turned to leave.

"You wouldn't dare. Check the numbers, I'm the biggest fucking asset you'll ever possess," at that he turned to me, his gaze smoldering. "In more ways than one."

I didn't know whether I should've been disgusted or angry by his apparent attempt at flirting with me, a woman whom he didn't even know was available, and, never mind that, was his boss. I scoffed in disbelief and vague amusement, and crossed my arms over my chest. When he was finished threatening me with his height and the breadth of his shoulders, he finally seated himself; I looked down at him with disdain. "You really think I'd be interested in you?" I forced out a hearty laugh, "Maybe your next boss will be thrilled by your pretentious flattery."

"Oh, I already know you're interested in me, you would have left by now," the ease and certainty with which he said this had me seconds away from foaming at the mouth. "Yet, here you still stand... gawking at me when, really, you could just walk your bratty self right back to your office and be done with it."

"You're a dick. Your arrogance is disgusting, you're disgusting. Go fuck yourself, goodbye, go to hell, however you want me to say it: you're fired. I expect your desk to be cleared out by morning."

"You're going to regret saying those things," he warned.

"Yeah? I don't think so," I said, this time acknowledging it was my turn to be smug.

"You're just asking for a spanking," he said darkly. I blanched with shock, my mouth gaping at him. And the worst, most disgusting smile I've ever seen in my life—dripping of satisfaction and contained lust—broke out across his face, consuming his features.

I recovered much too late and tried to contain my surprise by closing my mouth and then shot a disapproving, angry glare in his direction. All the while my seething anger released a wave of adrenaline into my blood stream, and I began thinking dangerous thoughts. How good a few bruises would look around his insulting eyes, or a couple sets of stitches—anything to wipe that fucking pompous grin off his face. Fueled by my imaginings and the adrenaline rush, I lunged through the space between us and slapped him across the right side of his face as hard as I could. Listening to the sharp sound of the slap ring in my ears, I stepped away from his desk and, without a word, began to walk back to my office now that our tiff had been settled.

From out of nowhere the man's left hand reached out and twisted my right arm painfully behind my back, surging me forward into the wall before I could make it to the door of his office. I felt his right forearm press into the back of my neck as it forced my face into the hard surface. I was breathing rapidly, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to struggle.

"That wasn't smart," he breathed into my ear. I struggled like any captured creature possibly could and he chuckled. Although I couldn't see it, I knew he was smiling—pleased as punch with himself.

"Get the fuck off of me now and I won't press charges. I'm giving you one warning."

"Oh," he laughed, "are you now?"

"Get off of me." His grip on my wrist tightened.

"And I should listen to you?"

"If you know what's best for you," I said, with as much venom as I could.

"If you knew what was best for you, you wouldn't have laid a hand on me."

"And if you even knew what was fucking best for you, you wouldn't have dared to lay a hand on me." I tried wiggling again to get away from him, but it was no use. He was much larger than me, and much stronger—I wasn't going anywhere unless he allowed it. But I continued to struggle violently against him all the more, trying desperately in vain to free myself. As I felt myself begin to tire, I made one last attempt to threaten him. "Let. Me. Go. Or I'm-"
"You're going to what?" When I didn't answer, he pressed his chest tightly against my back to keep my left arm in place, and with his left foot, he kicked my legs apart. He then placed his feet directly next to mine so I couldn't close my legs no matter how hard I tried. I desperately wished that, when I had the chance, I had bent my leg back and stabbed him in the groin with one of my stilettos.

"Let go of me or, not only will you be out of a job, you'll be spending the night in jail. And depending on how far you take this, it might be longer than just the night. You seem to have forgotten the security cameras."

He laughed richly, "The tapes will disappear for the right amount of money, you should know that. How many employees have you blackmailed to climb the corporate ladder? How many people tried to sue you for extortion but never had the evidence they deserved?"

"That's completely different they deserved it. You can't use that as a comparison!"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find that I can. You see, as far as I'm concerned, you deserve it. You may not think you want it, but if I do my job right, you'll certainly want it. You'll be begging for it. Like a total whore—I can guarantee it."

I felt the release of butterflies in my stomach when I heard the promise in his tone. I was excited, yet completely repulsed at the same time; I didn't even know him, he didn't know me, I wasn't exactly consenting, and this was completely illegal.

"I'm not interested in you," I said through gritted teeth, resolved to anger at being taken advantage of. "Let me go. Now."

"I'm not going to." I started to struggle again at his persistence and fell still as I realized I was a mouse under the cat's paw. And it was horrible. "Its different, isn't it," he continued, "you don't have control of the situation." He paused and began nibbling lightly at my neck. "How does it feel?" His whispers sent chills down my spine; the excitement caused my nipples to harden. "To be taken advantage of... When you know," his hand strayed down between my legs, up the skirt of my business suit, and felt the heat that was pooling there, "that you like it so much?" His hips began to grind his erection into my ass and his large body crushed mine against the wall. "You're wet. And you can't even deny it."

Only because I was at a loss for words, I began to whimper lightly and forced my face into the wall to muffle the noise. I didn't know if I wanted this to happen at all, but the devil on my shoulder told me my desire was a real need.

"This is making me uncomfortable. Get the fuck off of me. I'm not kidding anymore you son of a bitch," I lied, trying to summon my anger to resurface again, and I gathered all my strength to buck him off of me. It was no use.

"I'm going to warn you once: watch the language, and stop being so rude. I'm trying very, very vigorously to control the urge to spank your attitude right out of you."

"You motherf-" before I could finish, he growled and spun me around so my back was against the wall. Our eyes met and, my chest heaving, we stared one another down.

"Fine. A lesson on manners it is," he snarled. Whatever sort of sense of denial I had that this was not happening was instantly lost somewhere in the space between our bodies. I was so scared, excited, and infuriated by him, I wanted to wrap my hands around his thick neck and strangle him to death.

"Go to hell, I don't need-"

He grabbed my chin and forced me to look up into his eyes. "I will gag you, you miserable little wretch."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Although my anger was completely tangible, fear ebbed at the coattails of my words.

The man's free hand lifted to his tie and he began to pull it away from his neck, loosening the knot. With a swift, powerful movement he had my face up against the wall again, and jerked both of my hands behind my back. When I felt the cool silk of the tie slip around my wrists I thrashed against him wildly, the pounding ache between my legs growing steadily stronger. As he pulled the tie into a tight knot, he lifted the weight of his body from me and I slumped into the wall, too taken by surprise to keep my balance.

"Get on your knees." His order was firm and commanding, but I was able to control myself well enough to disobey.

"No," I said, glaring at him. My pride lasted for little more than ten seconds before he put a hand on the back of my neck and wrenched me from the wall, then down towards the ground. As my knees hit the rough carpet, I worriedly looked up at his face.

"Lets see what we can do about a gag, hm?"

"Untie me or the consequences will ruin your miserable fucking life."

With a hearty, unthreatened laugh, he reached into an inside breast pocket of his suit jacket to retrieve a handkerchief. "If I was aware I would run into such an abominable brat as you, I would carry a ball-gag with me at all times." He shrugged in amusement, "this'll have to do." He balled the scarf up and just as I opened my mouth to protest, he shoved it into my mouth to the point where I couldn't spit it out of my own free will. And despite the gag's muffling and distorting qualities, I screamed against the bonds, tears streaming out of my eyes. I wasn't sure whether I was crying because of the humiliation or because my cunt was aching painfully between my legs; the indecision frightened me into a new realm of paranoia.

"It sounds so much better when you aren't bitching," he marveled to himself as he sat down on his desk, completely at ease. He watched me as I knelt on the floor of his office, crying, my chest heaving as I tried desperately to remain calm. I glared at him. "Stay on your knees and crawl to me."

I shook my head, still glaring at him, but with a twinge of fear, and moaned an 'mm-mm'.

"No? Do you think you're in any position to say no to me? I'll ask you again, just as I asked you earlier: who do you think you are? And, for that matter, as for who I think I am?" He lifted himself from his desk and walked over until he stood in front of me, the thick muscles of his thighs in my face. I timidly craned my neck to look up at him, but he grabbed a fistful of my hair and violently forced my head back for me, his face directly in front of mine. I looked up at him desperately, my eyes wide as he spoke in a hardened. "I'm your motherfucking Master, and when you can speak, if I do let you speak, you will address me as such, is that fucking clear?"

Frightened into a compliant stupor, I nodded as more tears slipped down my cheeks, and he let go of my hair. I was humiliated. I was completely under this man's control, and I didn't even know who he was, and he was effortlessly treating me like a toy, like a child, like I was his to do with what he wanted. The nerve that he had... The arrogance... And I was powerless to do a single damn thing about it. It was enthralling. It was terrifying. There was no one around to help me. And... Strangely enough, when I felt the pangs of want continue to pulse sharply between my legs, I wondered if I even wanted someone to help me.

I broke out of my reverie and realized he was watching me, studying me. He was leaning against his desk again, he had since removed his suit jacket and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, his arms were crossed over his chest. His eyes were locked on me, my body, and I knew he could see that my nipples were hard through my shirt and I shivered. I felt violated as his eyes studied my body even though I was still wearing clothes, and it didn't even matter, because it felt as if he could see right through them to the skin beneath. But despite how embarrassed I may have been I was still very much confused by the throbbing arousal I felt between my legs.

"Have you calmed down?" his deep, even-toned voice sliced through the silence like a knife.

Shaking, I nodded my head up and down, hoping he would take pity on me.

"Good," he patted his thigh, "come here."

Like a dog—as if I was a fucking dog. I was offended, but didn't let it show as I nervously shuffled towards him on my knees, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. He watched me closely the entire time, making me feel small and adding to my embarrassment and humiliation. When I reached him, he reached down and lifted me by the chin so I was looking right up at him and he said, gently, "when I take that gag out, I expect you to be on your best behavior. You will not speak unless spoken to. Is that understood?"

Desiring to play nice as my ticket out of this, I nodded my head and opened my mouth so he could pull out the handkerchief. I waited, biding my time, hoping he would decide to untie me; he reached down towards me, and I was hopeful. But instead, he grabbed onto my blouse and ripped it open, baring my chest, and the bra I wore. I gasped in total shock and disbelief as I watched him take a pair of scissors to the front of my bra and cut it open. Stunned into silence and with the inability to do anything but stare, I watched as he went to work cutting my shirt and my bra off of me entirely. When he made a movement towards my skirt, as if he were going to pull it down, I tried to move backwards, glared at him, and, with my rebellious displeasure resurfacing, said, "go fuck yourself you fucking creep."

Suddenly, he reached forward and slapped my left breast so hard that when I felt the sting, I cried out in pain and shock. "You will only speak when spoken to. Do you understand me?"

"Fuck you," I sobbed, so humiliated that I felt my face heat up as I blushed from embarrassment.

He slapped me again, harder. "You insolent little slut," he growled, "do you understand me?"

"Stop it!" I cried desperately, wide-eyed with fright.

He slapped my right breast this time, even harder than he had my left. "You are going to learn one way, or another, to obey me. I don't care how long it takes." He grabbed my jaw and lifted my face up so I had to look at him. "I'm going to ask you one more time, and so help you, you had better behave. Do you. Understand. Me."

"No.." I sobbed, my voice cracking and trailing off into a tiny whimper as I shook myself free of his hold and miserably looked down at my reddened breasts and cried.

As if I weighed nothing, he grabbed my hair and lifted me roughly to my feet, dragged me behind him to behind his desk, and I had no choice but to stumble behind him. He sat down, forcefully threw me over his lap, and with a violent, unpleasant yank, he pulled my skirt and panties down, nearly to my knees, in one motion. Out of fear I began to thrash my legs, kicking at the air while I tried desperately to escape. When the first whack of his hand hit my backside I began crying and sobbing in terror. I was helpless to get away, to get him to stop, anything. Despite my begging and no matter how many times I screamed 'no', he wasn't going to stop. I wasn't going anywhere and even though I knew it, I wasn't any more deterred from trying. As the blows kept coming, I kept thrashing, no matter how hard they hit.

"You can kick and struggle all you want, little girl. It doesn't bother me at all."

"Let me go!" I wailed, steadily losing stamina, my legs tiring. I wasn't surprised when he refused, or when his hand found the tender flesh of my backside without hesitation.

It went on like that for what felt like an eternity until, slowly, my crying turned to silent acceptance. I received the spanking solemnly and rested on his knee, allowing it to continue because I had been broken. I jumped as I felt one of his warm hands rest lightly on my bottom, instead of inflicting the harsh slaps that I had grown accustomed to expecting. He reached further and traced downwards to the slit of my cunt with the tips of his fingers.

"So eager... Your cunt is drenched," he mused in a gentle tone. I couldn't help but moan lightly, my cunt clenching from the anticipation of his cock. "That's it, little one, moan for your Master's touch." Swallowing my shame, I groaned like a slut when his thumb pressed into the soft, wet folds of my cunt. I shamefully allowed my hips to rock back and forth against his knee. "You're doing so well my little slut. So hot for my touch. I daresay your attitude has been corrected."

I veritably purred deep in my throat as his hands began to massage my sore bottom. I was slowly starting to realize that perhaps this wasn't so bad as I might have previously thought. I was content to stay there, bent over his knee, reveling in his touch like a cat dozing on a sunny perch.

"Thank me for it," his voice drawled lustily.

"Mmmmmmm... Thank you..."
"Such a good girl," he said as he ran his hand from between my legs up to my reddened backside and began to rub it. It hurt, and even though it provided some semblance of relief, it was altogether uncomfortable and I whimpered a complaint. "Hush... you deserved it. You should have thought about the consequences before you opened that bratty little mouth. You'll think twice next time, won't you."

His voice was stern and I knew it wasn't a question but I answered anyway. "Yes," I said weakly, my tone one of accepted defeat.

Suddenly, but smoothly, and with the ease of immense strength, he placed his arm around my stomach and lifted me as he sat up from his chair, laid me across his desk, and slipped my skirt and panties the rest of the way down my legs until they fell to the floor at my feet.

I felt his hands grip my hips and my heartbeat took off at a breakout pace. Bent over his desk I felt my emptiness, my cunt practically gaping and begging for his cock to fill me. I began moaning and wiggling my hips slightly, with as much dignity as I could manage.

"That," he groaned, "is exactly the kind of initiative I want to see from you." He rewarded me by pressing the tip of his cock against the hot, slick opening of my cunt and I dared to push myself onto him, however slightly, to entice him to go further. I kept daring to force more of my cunt onto him, hoping that the welcoming, smooth warmth of my cunt would beckon him to impale me completely on his thick shaft. I began to moan and pant in a frenzied manner, boldly tempting him.

Unexpectedly, his cock began to sink into my cunt and I sighed a long, breathless moan as I felt the welcomed intrusion stretch me open to the point of delicious, enjoyable discomfort.

"Oh, you're so fucking tight," he groaned deeply when he was completely inside of me. He stood still for as long as he could bear it, it seemed, before he began to move himself within me, his cock retreating until it was nearly free of my cunt. The tip of his cock hovered just inside, driving me mad with need.

"Oh fuck me," I moaned pathetically into the desk and whimpered urgently, almost whining. He answered by thrusting forward harshly, filling my cunt so suddenly I yelped. When he withdrew again it was quicker, picking up pace as he pushed forward again, and again, his rapacious thrusts tearing me near to pieces.

I was so hot and bothered it didn't particularly matter that the edge of the desk was biting angrily into my hips and pelvis. And despite the fact that the size of his cock made tears fall down my face I still enjoyed the thorough nature of his fucking. As his thrusting continued to pick up speed I could only guess that my moans and the gentle squeezes of my tightness were emboldening him to continue violating me. I winced as he floored my hips again and again into the rough edge of the bureau, each time with more force. I moaned and screamed as I sobbed in delirium, fucked stupid in every sense of the phrase.

"You want it. You moaning, wanton harlot," he breathed between groans as he continued thrusting his thick cock in and out of my tight wetness. "I should have you beg, you greedy fucking slut."

I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, but the only sounds that came forth resembled little more than excited, garbled gibberish intermingled with pathetic, lewd moaning. His left hand reached around to the top of my cunt and he began to rub my clitoris; I screamed as loud as I could, encouraging the movements of his hand by grinding my hips wildly and arching my back to grant his cock deeper access to my cunt. I continued to beg for him as his other hand reached up and gripped a fistful of my hair and wrenched my head back. My mouth hung open and I whimpered as I cried out, unable to stop the endless stream of noises I was making.

"You are so fucking sexy," he groaned as my cunt rapidly and tightly gripped his cock without mercy. He thrust himself harder, his hips greedily pounding against my sore bottom; the desk shook and skidded across the floor a short distance with the force of his momentum. His grunt as he came was the result of pure satiation. "Fuck," he sighed as he collapsed on top of me, gently. "Fuck..."

I felt exhausted, unable to move and I could only guess he felt the same, as I was crushed beneath the weight of his body. I felt content, somewhat happy, and almost safe lying there on top of his desk, his cock still inside of me and covered by the weight of his powerful body. Breathing heavily, I tried to speak but stopped short because I didn't trust what would end up coming out of my mouth.

But, after some time, my heart rate slowed and I was able to catch my breath. Several seconds removed from the intense rush of my climax, both sanity and reality hit me hard. "Untie me," I said, finally able to find words, "or I swear to God... you won't have a job this time tomorrow."

"Tsch, that's a pity," he said grimly as he hefted himself off of me, "I thought that lesson would have left a more lasting impression on you. Though, I'll enjoying breaking that attitude of yours—even if it doesn't happen tonight." I felt myself go weak at the knees; I shivered from the sensations I felt between my legs. "You horny little slut," he growled.

"Ohh, let me go... I'm serious."

"So am I," he teased, slapping my hip. After a short moment he relented and pulled the tie loose from around my wrists, freeing them. I was immediately grateful for the freedom and I twisted my wrists, testing and cracking the joints to soothe them as they ached.

I stood up from the desk and looked around the room to find that he had already put his cock back into his pants, pulled them up, and fastened the zipper. My face burned red and I looked hurriedly away from the large expanse of his muscular chest when he looked up to face me and caught me staring.

"You know," he said as he advanced towards me and tilted my chin up to look into my eyes, "I hope you play nice next time. I look forward to seeing you writhing beneath me... out of control... unfettered." He leaned down and kissed me roughly, his tongue flicking across my lips. I groaned against my will and pushed him away at the last moment.

"I have work to do."

"So you do. But if you change your mind, you know where I am..." As his voice trailed off I filled in the blanks myself, nodded, and bent over to pick my clothes up form the floor. I was painfully aware of my nakedness and I felt my face heat up with a blush once again as he said, "that's quite the view, little girl." My shame was grueling and I barely made it to the door frame.

"It goes without saying you can come back anytime," he called from somewhere behind his desk. I didn't even dare turn around but I could practically hear the smile. When I made no attempt to say anything, he immediately expressed his displeasure. "Did you learn nothing about manners, or do you need another lesson."

I blushed deeper as I began gathering my clothes in front of me to hide my breasts from his sight, and turned to face him. "Thank you," I said, my eyes downcast in an unconscious act of submission.

"Mmmm, I did a fantastic job with your perfect little ass. And do you know what else? You made the most magnificent noises when my cock was buried to the hilt in your greedy cunt."

"You're disgusting."

"So I've been told," he said, smiling. "Same time tomorrow, pet?"

"Depends on whether or not I fire you, asshole."

"Oh, you won't," he called after me. "I'm a fucking asset."

I all but ran from his office when I was permitted to leave; I couldn't get out of his presence fast enough."Oh my God..." I mumbled shakily to the silence once I was in the safety of my office. I shut the door hastily, locked it and leaned against the cool wood as it soothed my burning, bright red backside. When I heard his music start thumping loudly again, I tried to control the urge to storm down the hallway a second time.

~x~