by Jamie Knight
"At first?" I shifted back in my chair, mirroring her movements. "What happened?"
"You're burning through questions very quickly, Mr. Davies."
"Let me worry about that." I tilted my head slightly. "Why only at first?"
She cleared her throat softly before answering me.
"He was too forward. We started communicating privately, which I knew was a mistake, and then on the fifth or sixth text message he was already asking me to..." Her mouth thinned slightly. "...sit on his face, smother him, walk all over him in stiletto heels - even if I wanted to, it's not like I ever would. Especially not with a text message trail that could ruin my reputation. He was stupid."
"Very stupid," I agreed. "Anyone can see you're not that kind of woman."
Her eyebrow twitched slightly.
"When the only tool you have is a hammer, Master William, every problem tends to look like a nail- doesn't it?"
"I didn't say you were a submissive," I said. "I can tell you might not even know what any of these terms mean. But you're not a dominant. You wouldn’t want to do what your perverted former boss wanted you to do."
I was instantly jealous, I had to admit. I knew it was a long time ago and that I hadn’t even known her yet, but I couldn’t help but wonder how dare her old boss could creep in on my territory. I wanted Jocelyn to be mine, and no one else’s.
"I guess not," she said. "Clearly you don't fit into the stereotype of the powerful businessman who needs to visit a dominatrix to relax."
"No," I agreed. "I'm not wired that way. Never was. But the people who are, well, I think they're lucky."
"What do you mean by that?" she asked.
Her voice was soft, curious, starting to lose its edge more and more.
"I'm asking the questions," I reminded her. "But if you were a dominant, if you'd seen some of the things I've seen- well, you wouldn't even have to ask."
"Yes," said Jocelyn, a little wryly. "There's a freedom in letting go. I read some about BDSM."
She was definitely into me. She had even looked up my lifestyle.
I knew this was going to work out quite well.
Chapter 6 - William
“Yes. I think there is freedom in letting go,” I told Jocelyn. “Deep down, we're frightened of our free will. The responsibility is crushing. We want to feel like someone is controlling things. And sometimes, we just want to feel controlled."
"So BDSM is a stand-in for religion?" she laughed. "That's a new one."
I shrugged.
"For some people? Maybe. I still have seventeen questions left, Jocelyn."
Sighing, she crossed her legs, her skirt straining a little where it sat on her thigh. I wanted to rip it off and spread her legs and her pussy lips, and slide my cock in between it all. I couldn’t want to devour her.
"Fine. Go," she said.
"Have you ever participated in BDSM?"
"No," she said. Her eyes met mine, with a quiet challenge. She was determined not to be cowed. "But I’ve read about it. I didn’t think I would like it. At the time.”
She cleared her throat and I could tell she was embarrassed.
"What did you read about?" I asked her.
I watched her carefully, the way her body tensed at the invasion of my questions. I liked that I made her a bit uncomfortable. I liked that it was clear that she didn’t want to answer my question but that she knew that if she refused to answer, then I'd have won our little mind game. She didn't want that.
"It was about a man spanking a woman," she said, finally. "It was silly. Or at least, at time, it seemed silly. As if the author had read about it in some stupid men's magazine that says all women secretly just want to be knocked out and dragged by their hair back to the cave."
I nodded.
I could tell she wanted me to spank her.
It was obvious.
But I played along with her little game.
"Facile, isn't it? And stupid," I told her.
She laughed a little.
"Well, at least you don't buy into it."
"I think we prefer a narrative of prehistoric societies that makes us feel better about our modern-day brutality," I said. "Whether or not it's based on any pesky facts."
"But women do like to be dominated," she said, licking her lips artlessly. "You believe that. You must, based on what I’ve heard."
"Some women do. I also believe in gravity," I said, dryly. "And I'm fairly certain the sky is blue."
"You don't think it's just a manufactured desire?" She was keyed up now, sitting up straighter in her seat, some of that fire coming back into her eyes. "Something we're told we should want?"
"Of course it's manufactured," I said. "Just like the desire for a luxury car, or a nice apartment."
"But those are things that actually make your life more comfortable," Jocelyn insisted. "They actually make things better. You don't need them, but it's reasonable to want them."
Considering this, I steepled my fingers together, resting my elbows on the desk.
"Have you ever given up control, Jocelyn? Voluntarily?"
Every part of her body was taut, like a big cat crouching before it pounced.
"Of course," she said, but too fast. "Or I think, well. What is that supposed to mean?"
I shook my head.
"I don't believe you. You've never given it up. You’re a good lawyer; I can tell. You've never surrendered willingly. If someone asked for something, you'd negotiate. You'd find a way to justify it to yourself. You'd make a trade. But you've never known the peace of true surrender. Without doubt, without hesitations, with complete trust."
She just stared at me.
"Don't feel bad," I said. "Very few people have. But I've been privileged to know some of them. Many extraordinary women have crossed my path over the years, while I've done my service as a Master. Every single one of them found me to be worthy of their trust. When you were researching me, looking up all the skeletons in my closet, did you find yourself wondering why? Why would any woman agree to take orders from me?"
She nodded, breathlessly. I could tell that she wanted to argue, to protest, to question, but couldn't quite find her voice. Her eyes were dark and transfixed, her hands gripping the cushion underneath her.
"Would you like to find out?"
Jocelyn's jaw trembled. But she didn't speak.
"Remember, just yes or no questions," I reassured her. "You don't have to do anything. Just answer me, yes or no. There are quite a few left."
She still didn't answer.
"When you came here to my office, was there any part of your mind that imagined me mastering you? Mentoring you in more ways than just professional ones? Teaching you what it's like to submit?"
I was met with silence.
"Did you wonder how it would feel if I spanked you? If it would feel silly?"
There was silence, still, except for the sound of the clock ticking in the corner.
"Did you ask yourself where you'd draw the line? What you'd do for me?"
Her lip trembled. In her eyes, I could see that her resolve was beginning to falter.
"Stop it!" she shouted, finally, jumping to her feet. "Stop it. This is for my job. I won't let you humiliate me like this."
"But you are," I said, calmly. "You knew exactly what would happen when I started this game. You know who I am. But you came here. And you stayed, while I asked you these questions. And that can only mean one thing, Jocelyn."
“That’s not true," she spat. "Maybe I should go tell Ashton and Kane about you. Or their wives. Maybe you deserve to be humiliated, the way you humiliate everyone else."
I could tell she wasn’t really going to do it. She wanted me to keep going.
“How do you think Ashton and Kane met their wives?” I asked her. “You seem to know about the rumor mill around here already. You must have already heard that they met here at work. That they had a, shall we say, elici
t boss and employee relationship. It’s not exactly unheard of.”
She got up as if to leave, but I knew she wouldn’t really do it. She paused, her high heels stopping their clicking on the wooden floor. I could tell she knew about the relationships that had formed at this firm in the past. That was probably part of what she had come— she had known the repercussions couldn’t possibly be that bad, if such things had happened here in the past.
I stood up and went to her, kneeling down, because even though she was tall, I was still much taller, reaching out and taking hold of her chin, gently. Instead of recoiling, she just froze. She wasn’t resisting in the least. I lifted her face.
"You have two choices, Jocelyn," I said, softly. "You can walk out of here now, and forget we ever had this conversation. I’ll still be your mentor, and I’ll help you get this internship and then this job, because I think you deserve it. But we'll sit in every meeting, across from each other, and you'll look at me and you'll wonder what could have happened here today. I don’t want to force myself on you, of course."
She looked up at me, her eyes wide and wet.
"Or, you can do everything I ask. This is your one chance to show me how much you want to do that."
I felt her throat expand and contract as she swallowed.
"Everything?" she rasped.
"Don't worry," I said. "I'll be easy on you. At least at first."
Chapter 7 - William
I stepped back, letting go of her, walking backwards until my back was up against the bookcase. She stayed on her hands and knees, trembling, staring up at me.
This was one of those rare times when I really had no idea what would happen next. She might jump to her feet and stalk out, or she might burst into tears and crumple into a ball on the floor. Even though she was the one who'd provoked this in the first place, and I was certain she wanted it, I had no idea how she was actually going to react.
She still hadn't moved. She was waiting for an order.
"Come here," I said. "And bring me that piece of paper on the table."
I pointed, but I didn't really need to. There weren’t many pieces of paper on the table, and it didn’t really matter which one she chose to bring me. I just wanted her to show me that she would do whatever I asked her to do. If I was going to make her my pet, I wanted to make sure she was going to do everything I needed from her. It was one of my requirements to enter into such a relationship.
Jocelyn took the paper from the table. Then she made a small move, as if to walk over to me.
"No," I said, softly. "Crawl for me."
She shuddered. Grabbing the piece paper, holding it between two fingers, she started to shuffle awkwardly forward without dropping or bending it. After a few halting movements, she looked up at me again.
I raised an eyebrow, then lifted my index finger to my mouth, gently biting my fingertip. A silent command that she understood. With one final exhale of resignation, she held the paper between her teeth and started to crawl towards me.
When she reached her destination, she practically spat it at my feet. Some of her fire had returned, and it sent a thrill up my spine. I loved it when she put up a challenge.
"The safe word is mentor," I told her.
She raised her head high, her back curving, her stomach dipping down so that her crisp blouse started to come untucked.
"Like I'd give you the satisfaction," she snarled.
"So defiant." I took a step towards her, and she didn't flinch. "We'll see how long that lasts, hmmm?"
Reaching down, I snatched the elastic that held her hair into a tight bun, and yanked it out. I grabbed her by the hair and pulled back, up, until she had no choice but to stand. Her eyes watered, but she never flinched.
"Do you like how I train my mentee?" I demanded, clenching harder around the roots of her hair. "Would you like to get further trained as my pet, until I break you?"
"You think you can break me?" Her eyelids were heavy. Rising between us was the sweet, musky smell of her arousal. "Go on. Do your worst."
There it was.
Her admission that she wanted me, however fiercely it came out.
I would take it.
I spun her around, grabbing her dove-gray suit jacket and jerking it down to her wrists. Quickly knotting the sleeves together created a pair of makeshift cuffs, and I pushed her forward, until her hipbones pressed against the edge of the table.
With my hand flat on the middle of her back, I pushed her down so that her chest was flat against the smooth wood. Her skirt was hiked up so high I could almost see her panties, but not quite.
I shoved my knee between her legs, spreading her thighs. She moaned, her back arching, her cheek pressed against my paperwork. Her jaw was slack, and she panted harshly.
My hands palmed her ass, roughly, almost before I realized what I was doing. In spite of how it might have looked, how it might have sounded, we were perfectly in sync.
I could feel her desires vibrating through my body. Grabbing fistfuls of her skirt on either side of the split on her thigh, I ripped the fabric in two.
I tore her pantyhose aside. She wasn’t wearing any panties, after all. I smiled, darkly, sliding my hand between her legs, just enough to smear her wetness on my fingers. When I lifted them to her mouth, she laved her tongue along them, making my cock jump.
I pressed against her ass so she could feel it, thick and throbbing for her defiance.
"Humiliate me, Master," she whispered, muffled against the wood. "It's all I'm good for."
And there it was. Her greatest desire and her deepest fear, laid bare for me.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her up, spinning her around and pressing her tightly against me. Caught between my body and the desk, she had nowhere to go, even if she wanted to. Her eyes were dark and ravenous, and she needed me. She needed so much that she could never put into words.
"You make such a pretty little pet," I whispered, my hand resting on her throat. "But this isn't who you are. It's your fire that made me want you. Your fight. You will always be the woman in the boardroom who looked at me like I was something to be squashed under her heel. And that's what makes your submission so precious."
I tightened my grip, just a little.
"Never forget that. Do you promise me?"
"I promise," she whispered.
I kissed her fiercely, with every bit of hatred and frustration I had for this whole situation, this desire to do with her what I knew I shouldn’t. I kissed her for every second I’d thought about her since laying eyes on her. Every time I'd wanted to take her apart but knew I shouldn’t.
I'd never imagined it could be this good.
She pushed me away, a powerful shove that caught me off-guard. I stumbled against the bookcase, hearing a heavy bookend on the top shelf rocking precariously. Wiping my mouth, I looked up and smiled at her.
"You shouldn’t be doing this to your intern," she murmured, swaying towards me in her ruined clothes. She was clearly putting up a fight, wanting me to punish her more. "What makes you think you can have me?"
She was just close enough to touch. I reached out and brushed my fingers against her cheek, whisper-soft, and her eyelids fluttered.
"I know you want me. You can lie to me with your mouth," I said. "Your beautiful, sinful mouth."
My fingers drifted down her chest, stopping where the fabric of her blouse rasped against her painfully stiff nipples.
"But these..."
My hand drifted lower, under her torn skirt, pressing between her legs, to the burning heat.
My fingers slipped inside her pussy, so easily.
It was so wet and warm and tight.
I felt her pulse and quiver around me.
"And this... they don't lie."
Her breath caught in her throat, and she gasped.
I pulled away abruptly, reaching behind her and yanking the jacket loose. She stood still, breathing heavily,
watching me with hooded eyes. She said nothing as I sat down in my armchair, legs wide, making no effort to hide my arousal. I was so hard for her that it was obvious from a mile away.
"Strip," I said. "Slowly."
The flames rose up in her eyes again, her fingers slipping and fumbling with the buttons of her blouse.
Outside, somewhere far away, a car alarm whined incessantly, a vague reminder that there was a real world still outside the walls of this room. A world where we were enemies. A world where there would be consequences.
But not right now.
Chapter 8 - William
Jocelyn threw her blouse in a heap on the floor, her nostrils flaring. The skirt came next, then the shreds of her pantyhose, and then her bra, which she tossed at my head. It landed harmlessly, draped across my shoulder, and I just smirked at her.
"Are you happy now?" she demanded.
I let my eyes rove across her body, all the gentle dips and curves that had been hidden under her professional looking clothes. She was shaved smooth, every part of her body, but it did nothing to tame her wildness.
Yes, I was very happy now, indeed.
She was staring at me like she wanted to rip me to pieces.
"Touch yourself," I told her, gripping the arm of the chair to keep myself from following suit. “Play with your tight little pussy for me.”
She did, her eyes closing softly, and her mouth falling open in a silent moan.
"Taste it," I whispered, and she raised her fingers to her mouth, licking, sucking, savoring.
I couldn't stand it anymore.
I needed her as much as I felt she needed me.
"Come here." I crooked a finger, and she opened her eyes, slowly. The few steps to close the distance between us seemed to take a thousand years.
"Turn around," I instructed her. "Bend over."
She swallowed.
"Why?" she asked, her voice husky.
"I want to see you," I said, roughly. "Plus, you have to do what I say if you want to prove to me that you want this. Just as I’ve already said. Now, spread yourself open for me."