"Turn around and place your hands flat on the desk."
I gasped, looking at him in disbelief. Had I heard him right? Part of me wondered if he was going to raise my skirt, jerk my panties down around my ankles, and fuck me right then and there. And if he did, would I let him? Would I stay bent over while my billionaire boss used me for his pleasure?
My pussy heated at the thought. A man like him wanting me was almost too much to handle.
I did as I was told and placed my palms flat on the desk, leaning over as I did so. I waited for him to grip my zipper; to rip my skirt off my body or push it up over my hips. I was ready to be his. To be possessed.
His hand came down hard on my ass, making me yell in surprise. I winced, my eyes watering from the impact. I wanted to look at Mr. Drake, to ask what he was thinking, but something kept my hands firmly on the desk, helpless beneath him.
"You've been very bad," he growled.
His hand came down again with a smack that took my breath away. I mewled as the stinging washed over me, but held my place, not wanting to disappoint him.
Despite the pain, my panties were wet, my feelings ready for him. I felt helpless and sensual and wild, like never before. Who was this Isabeau bending over for her boss? I didn't know her, but I also didn't want to stop feeling this way.
"You will not disobey me!"
Another blow made me yelp, then another, reddening the same spots he'd hit before, making my ass burn beneath the thin material of my skirt. I felt the bruises forming, and bit my lip, trying not to scream as his hand came down again and again. The office echoed with the sound of his hand cracking down mercilessly on my tender flesh, and my panting as I stood there and took every blow, legs shaking, with need for this man.
"Let's see if you've learned your lesson…"
I knew he must be admiring his handiwork, leaning over me, inspecting my backside, on display for him.
"Oh yes. This punishment should be a constant reminder over the next few days to behave. Every time you sit, you'll remember this little lesson."
"What is this, Isabeau?" His voice was a dangerous rumble. "I can smell your arousal from here. My nostrils are filled with it…"
"Look at you. Look at this!"
"Answer me when I speak to you, Isabeau!"
Mr. Drake's fingers increased speed, making me moan loudly into the desk.
"Are you enjoying this? Do you think this is a game?"
"Yes!" I breathed. "I mean, no. It's…ahhhh…. it's not a game…"
"You're goddamn right, it's not a game!"
Mr. Drake reached around my body. And just like that, waves of pleasure and pain making me soar to heights I didn't know I was capable of. flying on wings of ecstasy.
When I finally came back down to Earth, I turned around, breathing hard, in time to see him wiping his hand on his silk pocket square, avoiding my eyes.
He opened his bottom desk drawer and threw a white dress shirt at me. One of his spares.
"Get out."
I caught it, my brow furrowing. "Mr. Drake?"
"I said, get out."
The dangerous tone in his voice left no room for discussion. I pulled the shirt around my shoulders and hurried out, buttoning as I went.
Back at my desk, I tried to fight back the tears, without success. What the hell had just happened? Did he want me or not? Had I disappointed him somehow? Just when my fantasies were coming true. I wasn't good enough.
At the end of the night, as Mr. Drake left his office, he paused beside me. I remained looking forward, responding to an email, not daring to speak. What would I say if I did? A warm hand on my shoulder made me jump.
"Isabeau, I..."
I looked up and was caught up again in those cool, green eyes. For a moment, I thought I caught a hint of sadness behind them, but then it faded, his unreadable mask slipping back into place.
"Yes, Mr. Drake?"
~ ~ ~