It was about 7pm when the last of my colleagues passed my desk. Finally, I thought. It was a long enough day already without waiting for it to end any longer.
I stood up and rubbed my neck. I felt a bit grubby; it had been a hot day and the city always made a person feel grimy. I was going to enjoy my shower that evening.
But not yet. Smiling to myself, I picked up my mobile and dialled his number. I let it ring once, then hung up, as arranged. Walking past all the empty desks, with their discarded jackets and dropped pens, I made my way, slowly, to the front door. I opened it and stood there, briefly enjoying the fresh air on my face. Before long he stood before me. It was just as we had planned but I still got a little thrill seeing him there.
"Come in," I said, smiling, and opened the door wider. He stepped in, smiling back. Neither of us touched each other, but his brushing past me had left me tingling.
"I hope you didn’t mind waiting so long," I said.
"No," he said, and left it at that.
Without saying anything more, we turned and made our way through to the boardroom.
It is a large room. Instead of one large table, several sit closely together creating a rectangle. One side of the room is flanked by windows, the other holds just the doors. At one end of the room is a blank wall, at the other a screen used to give PowerPoint presentations. I’ve stood before the screen many a time, explaining my staff’s future budgets or training. I’ve had several successful conferences here. I know this room very well.
Now that we are here, our body language changes. I stand, briefly, near the door and then move closer to him and stand at the head of the table. He stands with his back to me looking outside the windows at the night time view. He turns and looks at me. I hear him speak softly.
"Come here, he says, "little one." It is my name when I am with him. I walk to him and stand beside him. He does not kiss me, but instead turns me so that I have my back to him. Gently he leans me over the table and lets me rest there so that I can catch my breath. I feel the edge of the table against my thigh, the hard surface against my face. Behind me I hear him speaking.
"You may only speak when the pain is too much."
I know this already, we’ve both spoken to each other at length about this, but I nod as best I can in my awkward position.
He moves briefly behind me, and soon I feel ropes being placed securely around my wrists. I then have my arms drawn in front of me so that I’m gripping the edge of the table. He ties the ropes to the legs of the table. I am, somehow, physically comfortable like this. The only tension is at the back of my knees, which I ignore.
A pause, and silence. Then he softly places his hand on my behind, and I hear something like a sigh. Is he excited? Is he pleased? Do I disappoint? I say nothing, and wait.
My ears are straining against the silence, but when his hand smacks against my behind it is so fast I’m surprised. Then I feel it, again, and again. My skirt cushions most of the blow, but I still feel the power of his arm, and a tingle begins to warm my skin. It continues until I gasp, loudly, and a whimper escapes my lips before I can halt it.
He pauses and for a moment I’m terrified he’s going to end it due to my indiscretion. Then I feel the whip last across my skirt with again unexpected speed, and I tense against my bindings. Another blow falls, and another. I breathe between each stroke, less and less able to escape with my mind. Which is, of course, the idea.
The feeling is now past a tingle. We’re in the arena of pain now, a sensation not of pure pain….but of pleasure most personal to me. I grip the table with my hands, letting each stroke press me more and more into the hard wood. My eyes half closed, I find that the blows assume a colour in my mind; knife-blood red at first, easing like a burnt flash into a rosy glow… Unaware, I’ve been moaning for several minutes now. I know because now he pauses, and I can hear myself.
Silence. Then slowly, with more patience than I think human, my skirt is pushed up until it is creased and gathered around my waist. My backside is bare, because I wear no knickers; his instructions.
His hand is warm, and it finds me precise. It makes me buckle against the table, and I press against the wood that’s warm now from my flesh. His hand is vastly different from the whip. Each blow brings me more into focus, less able to hide from the pain, and I cry out, free from myself in this act. His hand does not stop, and continues on for much longer than I could have thought I could endure. He rests, once, and leans over me to kiss my face. He continues on then.
Eventually, he stops, and I feel him place himself between my legs. Slowly he lowers his zip. He enters me from behind, and as I feel his hardness, he finds my wetness between my legs. We groan simultaneously at the feel of each other, and for a moment I wish I wasn’t bound so that my hands could explore his body. But now he moves inside me, harder and faster, and despite his command of silence I cannot prevent my voice crying out my thanks, begging for more. His gasps reach me and I can feel his prick thrust faster and faster into me, each move treasured. He reaches to my wrists and holds them, leaning over me as he thrusts, and we come together, I with tears on my face.
What seems like hours pass. The sky is fully dark now, and for a moment we seem to be the only two people in the world. My ropes are untied and we hold each other, neither wanting to say anything. My knees are weak, my skirt still pulled up. I will be marked by his hand. I’m absurdly proud of myself. He looks at me, brushes a strand of hair from my face.
"We’ll go home now," he says, and pausing solely to gather his ropes, we leave.
At the front door he turns to me and asks me a question.
"And when you have your meeting tomorrow, where will you be sitting?" he says, smiling.
"At the seat where you fucked me, Sir," I answer.
He lifts my hand and kisses my fingers.
"Well done, little one," he says, and together, he leading me, we walk out of the office, the door falling silently closed behind us.