The Office

For the six months she had been used by him, the look in his secretary's eyes as she walked into the anteroom was always the worst. Knowing that she knew what she was there for, she felt the crimson pumping into her cheeks as he looked at her, eyes inspecting her from shoes to face and back to shoes again. She looked at her watch, 2:58:44 she closed her eyes, breathed in some composure. Checked her watch again, watched the seconds counting down. Put her hand on the handle and walked in.

She walked in, took two steps to the left of the door. Interlocked her fingers behind her head, opened her legs slightly and waited for her instructions. He was on the phone, writing on a pad. She wondered if she would have to stand there for the whole hour again, she hoped not, she was tired and wasn't sure she had the energy. Though she knew she didn't have a choice. She knew she'd do exactly as she was told. She had to do as she was told, too much relied on her being there for him. the consequences for her and her family, the punishment of noncompliance. She simply couldn't move, too much depended on her staying still and quiet.

After a few minutes he looked up from the pad, still talking on the phone, a flash of confusion passed over his face, he checked his watch, looked at his diary, looked at his watch again. Without looking at her again he summoned her over, to stand at the side of his desk and strip. This she did, quickly stripping and neatly folding her clothes and putting them on the arm of the large sofa behind her. Once naked she stood at the side of the desk, in the same position, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He was shouting at somebody on the phone, some figures weren't completed and he sounded angry about it. She cringed as she knew this would probably mean this wouldn't be a gentle hour. He slammed the phone down, and picked it up again dialled a number, and added a note to the bottom of the large todo list on his desk reading Fire Thomas Edwards, doubly underlining it.

She stood there, listening to him talking sales figures and targets, hoping he had calmed down. He stood up, walked around the other side of the desk to a bookshelf on the opposite wall, pulled out a book, put it on the end of the desk, found a page and read something from it, putting the book back he went to the smaller bookcase behind her, she heard him browsing through the volumes there, occasionally puling the weighty tomes out and forcefully pushing them back into the slots. Her breathing was quickening as with his closeness, wondering if he would do anything to her. Her muscles involuntarily tightened with every move he made, wondering if the next would be striking out at her. He stood, and walked closely behind her, the brush of his wake setting fire to her already ignited senses.

All the while she stood, she concentrated on keeping quiet, and she was under strict instruction to never allow a noise from her throat. She still had the scars of the times when she had disobeyed that instruction. The only conversation she had ever had with him was when she had first got the letter inviting her to see him when the details of their arrangement was explained to her. She hated what she had become to him, how easily she had allowed this situation to arise. How easily he had led her straight into this path. Most of all, she hated how this hour of her day consumed her entire life when he wasn't there. When not there she would feel every possible human emotion towards him. She needed to escape him she needed to be free from the abuse he savaged her with. Then the weekend would come, those 72 hours without him, and she would feel so lost without his presence. She moped around her flat yearning for the next time her cheeks enflamed at his secretary's disdain towards her, because in that hour, between those two looks of distaste by his secretary she felt exhilarated. There was never any niceness to him, he was always violent with her, whether it was with the implements he used on her, or with the silence he ignored her with. Even now, before he had touched her, she felt violated by him, in every word he was speaking to whoever it was on the end of the phone he accentuated how little she meant to him. How irrelevant she was to his life. Her concentration from him had been broken, she realised this as felt him taking a handful of her hair and forcing her into his desk, pushing her face hard into the surface of it. Her lack of concentration on her silence allowing a short yelp out, the instant it left her throat she felt a wave of panic flood through her. She knew there would be a consequence, she didn't know when that consequence would be, she hoped it would be soon so she didn't have days of fear walking through that door, in the same breath she feared what he could do to her. Her head was still being pushed, hard, into the old leather and wood desk. She felt a trickle of blood escaping her lips, trying to clean it up with her tongue and lips without moving her head, incapable of moving her head. She needed to clean it to prevent him punishing her for it. She hoped she had succeeded.

He let go of her hair, she then felt his fat fingers pushing into her holes stretching and exploring her. Bringing her attention to how aroused she was, the betrayal of her body against everything her mind told her was wrong. As he forced fingers into her, she felt the waves of arousal approaching the crescendo, but he would never allow her that pleasure. He stopped leaving her on the edge as the tears began to flow. All the while he was calmly talking on the phone, never showing an ounce of interest or enjoyment in what he did to her.

He pushed her further onto the desk, so her pelvis was on the pushed into the rim of. She heard him unfastening his belt, and sliding it out of the loops. She clenched wondering whether she would be getting the leather or the buckle end today. She flipped between which she hoped for. The buckle end did only ever last for a few lashes but hurt considerably more, and bruised deeply, the leather end would last considerably longer, and he would often continue until she bled. She felt his body positioning itself for the strike. She prepared her body for the impact of a belt. When it landed it wasn't a belt though, she examined the sensation trying to decide what it was, it was a large surface, with buckles perhaps that stung her in sharp localised points. The felt a dozen of these land, with a dull thud as it connected with her flesh, all the while he talked, his conversation never missing a beat. The pain it caused overrode the sensation of blood trickling down her legs for a while, as the pain subsided the sensation confused her a little, it took a while to realise what must have occurred, she wondered how badly she was marked. The tears where streaming now, she wanted to sob, to beg him to stop, she couldn't her voice would only make it worse. She knew that, she accepted that.

He walked back to the front of his desk, and looked up a number, relayed it to the phone, and came back behind her, she suddenly felt him pushing into her, she'd not realised he'd taken his trousers off and she felt shocked at the event, he rarely did anything that showed his arousal, and she always felt a thrill at him showing her that. As he thrust into her the pain of whatever he had done was brought back, the sting of her cut skin. With each powerful thrust his tone of voice on the phone never changed. The edge of the desk was digging into her pelvis very painfully now, she appreciated the respite of the pain of his thrusts against her arse.

As he continued to fuck her, the door opened and his secretary walked in, he told the person on the end of the phone to give him a minute. The secretary discussed some problem with something that needed a signature, she felt some papers being laid out on her back, not breaking his rhythm for a second. The pressure of a pen signing against her lower back, then the papers were collected and she left the room, and he continued his phone call but this time he was writing notes across her upper back, the stroke of a pen on her skin was probably the gentlest sensation she had ever received from him. It was intensely sensual experience she had ever had, all of the pain she was feeling in her arse and pelvis, the stretching of her skin under the drying blood, the force of him pushing inside her, and now this gentle caress of her back, for the first time since this had started she felt an orgasm explode through her body, a scream burst from her lips, but she didn't care anymore, the pent up desires of six months were screaming through her body, she pulsated and throbbed as the wave of orgasms rode through her, groaning as each one erupted stronger than the previous. She was distantly aware that in some other galaxy he was still talking on the phone, but that was a million miles from where she was right now, she felt a deep sharp pain in her back as the gentle caress turned into the splitting of her skin with a pen nib, again it was taken out and stabbed through her skin again, each one bringing yet another orgasm.

Suddenly he was out of her, she fell backwards off the desk, collapsing into a ball on the floor, shaking and bleeding. Sobbing and moaning. He was sat back at his desk, continuing to work. She understood this as her cue to leave. She quietly dressed, surprised at the amount of blood on her legs, and on the floor, fearful of getting home to see what damage he had inflicted. Finally she was dressed and heading towards the door, as she placed her hand on the handle, he called her name, the first time he had ever done so. She froze, turned to look at him, he was walking towards her, she was suddenly terrified. She found herself shocked at the reason she was terrified though, she was scared he was going to dismiss her, that she was never going to see him again. He stood in front of her, looked her in the eyes, another first, raised a hand to her cheek, and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, an almost indistinguishable smile breaking across his face. Telling her he'd see her tomorrow. As she walked out of the door, she had never felt such ecstasy. She no longer felt any of the pain in her wounds, just pure, unadulterated, concentrated ecstasy. She floated home, yearning to feel the pain he bestowed her with once again.