“Widen your stance.” He kicks my feet apart and I obey him. “Better.” He squeezes my curves, and my nipples tighten. “Your ass is now mine, Grant.” He hikes my skirt up slowly, the cool air sweeping along my thighs. “I’ll punish you as I see fit.”

He traces my lace G-string, following the trail between my ass cheeks, over my mons, his touch delectable. “Did you wear this for me?” He rubs his fingers against me. “It’s pretty.” I rock into his hand. “But I prefer you bare.” He twists the lace. The fabric digs into my skin and snaps. “I want to see your pussy clench.”

John smacks my right ass cheek and I cry out, the sound muffled by his silk tie, my inner walls closing around nothing. “That’s it.” He rubs my heated skin with his course palms and I moan. “Your body wants my cock.”

He cuffs my left ass cheek, his movement controlled, using only a portion of his strength, and I jerk under him, the pain exquisite. “But you don’t deserve it.” He spanks me. “You’ve been.” Smack. “A bad.” Smack. “Bad.” Smack. “Assistant.”

He presses his left hand between my shoulder blades, holding me down. His right hand connects with my ass again and again, the location, intensity and timing varying, keeping me off balance, focusing all of my attention on him.

I scream, plead, cry, my skin heating, burning, scorched by his palm, my protests muted by the gag. Even if John could hear me, I doubt he’d listen. My punishment is set and I don’t want him to stop, not truly, my pussy humming with happiness, my soul wanting, needing this.

Actions have consequences and consequences have consequences. If I decide to work for Rexton or I choose to stay with John, John will always have this memory, know this secret kink of mine.

He’s the only man I’ve ever trusted this much. The blows rain down upon my ass, the pain flowing into the sweetest pleasure, my wetness streaming along my legs.

“You’re soaked, Grant,” my boss comments on my shameful arousal. I squirm, unable to hide from him, every intimate part of me exposed to his all-encompassing gaze.

“You’re dripping for me.” He slides his fingers along my pussy lips and I tremble. “Dripping for my cock.” He spreads my juices over my ass, swirls the moisture into my fiery skin, branding me with my own scent.

John grips my hair and tugs on the tendrils, forcing my head upward. “If I take you now, I won’t be gentle.” He leans over me, the ridge in his dress pants pressing against me. “I’ll be rough.”

I ache, needing him, my pussy empty. If I could speak, I’d beg him to take me, to ease this loneliness inside me.

John releases my hair. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he growls into my ear.

I nod vigorously, my entire body shaking with anticipation.

He chuckles. “You’ve been warned, Trella.” A zipper rasps. A package rustles. I glance over my shoulder. He sheathes himself, rolling a condom over his massive cock. “Eyes forward,” he barks.

I obey, not wishing him to change his mind or to continue his punishment. The need in me is almost unbearable. I wouldn’t survive another sexy spanking. I’ll go insane.

“Good girl.” He positions himself between my spread thighs, brushing his hips against my burning ass cheeks. “I’ll give you what you want.” Warm latex-covered skin prods against my entrance. He pushes his tip inside me and I whimper into my silk gag, his girth stretching me painfully wide.

“I’ll give you everything I have.” John folds his rough fingers over my hips, holding me steady. His thigh muscles flex against me, and he thrusts hard. I scream, my spine bowing, my pussy protesting the invasion. “Yes.” He drives even deeper, pressing his base against my feminine folds, shoving his hips against my abused ass.

God, he’s huge. Tears drip down my cheeks, leaving salty trails on my skin.

John doesn’t allow me time to recover, to adjust to his size. He pulls out to his cock head, and thrusts into me again, pushing me against the wooden desk, the edge digging into my upper thighs. It feels so bad and so good at the same time, pain and pleasure merging, the contrast numbing my brain and spiraling my need upward.

John repeats the action, filling me again and again. We fit together perfectly, as though we are designed for each other. My inner walls hug the bloom of his tip. My pussy lips drag along his shaft. The connection between us intensifies.

My boss shows no interest in our spiritual link. He uses my body, riding me hard, smacking his hips against my sensitive ass, slapping his balls against my thighs, owning my pussy with deep, sure strokes, dominating my smaller form. I can’t escape him. All I can do is hold on, submit, accept, enjoy.

The mixture of agony and ecstasy drives me closer to the edge of fulfillment. I grit my teeth, refusing to fall before John does. He bends over me, grunting into my right ear with each thrust, his cotton suit sliding along my suit jacket, the layers of clothing frustrating me.

I yearn to feel his skin against mine, to feel his cum filling my pussy. I want no fabric, no condom, no barriers between us. Damn the consequences. I rock back into him, meeting his punishing rhythm, matching his passion.

“Behave.” John growls, scraping his teeth against my neck, and I tremble, tilting my head, giving him access to more skin, to more of me. I ache. I need. I shake.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his lips vibrating against my earlobe. “Warm. Tight.” He pistons in and out of me, dangling me over the emotional vortex and then pulling me to safety. “I knew you’d be like this.” He holds onto my shoulders, controlling my movements, propelling me backward, onto him. “Soft and perfect and mine.”

I follow his lead, undulating under him. “That’s it, Trella. Fuck me,” he urges, his pace intensifying. “Fuck your boss like a good assistant.” I clench down on his shaft and he jerks, groaning. “Do that again and I’ll come.”

I smile. This is exactly what I want. When he comes, I can come and I’m desperate for release, mindless with wanting. He withdraws, his cock head grazing my inner walls, severing more of my restraint.

John thrusts and I constrict around him, squeezing him with everything I have, forcing his fulfillment. He swoops downward, bites my suit-covered shoulder, the cloth muffling his roar. As he comes hard, he grinds his hips, the contact plunging me into a spinning black funnel of turbulent emotion.

I scream soundlessly, bucking, writhing, grasping for something, anything, my soul tossed, twirling, ripped from its bearings. He pushes into my release, pinning my hips to the desk, capturing me, securing me.

John holds this pose for three heartbeats, shudders and collapses, flattening me against the desk, covering me with his muscle, his scent, his heat. I’m sore, my ass stinging and my pussy tender, every inch of my physique pulsating from his hard usage, yet I’ve never felt more desired, more necessary.

He needed this release and I gave it to him. John loosens my gag and removes his tie, the silk damp and frayed. “Thank you.” He nuzzles against my cheek and I smile sleepily, warmed by his gratitude. “You are a good assistant.”

My smile fades. I want to be more.

“Though you misbehave at times.” He pulls away from me, his cock slipping from my warm pussy, leaving me empty. “You have such a pretty ass.” John bends over and presses his lips to my aching skin. “It’s red from my hands.” He squeezes me. Pain and pleasure shoots down my thighs. “I’ve marked you. Everyone will know you belong to me.”

“I work for you.” I push myself upward, groaning with the effort.

“You belong to me,” John repeats. He discards the condom and fastens his pants, becoming my professional boss once more. “No other man will touch you.” He grabs a couple of tissues from the box on his bookshelf and crouches beside me. “Spread your legs.”

I obey him, my face heating. My reaction is foolish. He’s already seen everything, been inside me, felt my pussy milk his cock, my tongue tease his slit.