Under My Boss's Direction

Even with his new levels of responsibility, though, it didn’t seem like he changed all that much in terms of his basic personality. He might have traded his plaids for polo shirts and shaved off his awesome beard, but there was still the same twinkle in his eyes, obscured as they were by thick-framed glasses, and an impish half smile in every image, be it digital or analog. (It was strange to think there could be anyone who crossed over, the digital revolution starting before I was born.)

There had always been the rumors. At least since he got famous. People said he had certain proclivities in the bedroom, which were talked about with whispers and innuendo. It was nothing awful; I’d never heard about him hurting anyone.

He could just get a bit kinky. That was something that was beginning to intrigue me more and more.

Would he ever want to do those things to me?

I could feel my cheeks burning just at the mere thought of it.

It was wildly inappropriate to think like this. He was my boss after all, but that still didn’t stop me from letting my mind wander there. I rarely did what I was told with regard to my body, never mind inside my own head. As far as I was concerned, that was sacred space no one else had any right to.

It was a sentiment that seemed to be generally shared. Otherwise, Orwell’s invention of ‘thought crime’ wouldn’t have been consistently met with such abject horror.

No, my thoughts were my own, and they were fixed on Seth Black. In an increasingly sexy context. I knew I couldn’t touch myself, but it was a difficult struggle when the daydreams started.

We were in that very office, at least in my head. I had just come in after being called by Seth, or ‘Sir,’ as I called him when addressing him directly.

“Yes, sir?” I asked in my fantasy, stopping in front of his desk as he had instructed me to.

“Come here,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir!” I enthused, going to him, my spine— and other parts of me— already tingling.

As I approached, he rolled back in his chair so I could see his lap. Not to mention his raging hard on.

I stopped short, my eyes fixed on his bulge, hoping he would let me suck his obviously big cock. But my master had something else in mind. He was lightly patting his lap in a way we both understood.

With his help, I lay across his lap, face down, his bulge pressing enticingly against my tummy. I could almost feel the throb through the material of his pants.

“Oh,” I gasped, feeling his hand on my ass, even before he’d pulled up my skirt.

Stroking me through the cloth of my skirt, Seth helped relax me, a sigh of pleasure escaping my lungs as I slumped harder against him.

I could almost feel the goosebumps rising on my exposed skin as my master pushed up my skirt, leaving my ass bared to the open air, save for a rather skimpy pair of silk panties. This condition was short-lived, Seth deftly removing my already wet panties with one hand, stroking my lower back with the other as he did so.

With a deep, cleansing breath I got ready for the first slap, Seth surprising me by gently stroking me. The gentleness of his caress let me know it was a play spank, and not serious discipline.

Taking time to warm me up, he let in with the first strike. A short, hard smack with a flat palm. Repeating it a few more times, he started striking upwards with a slightly cupped hand. Just when I was relaxed, he gave a sharp downward strike with just his fingers, to make sure I was paying attention.

Returning to the gentle scoops, he slipped two fingers from his other hand into my pussy, working me up to a squirming orgasm on his lap.

I really wanted to touch myself now, but I didn’t, and it was a good thing. I snapped back to reality when the door opened, yanking myself back into reality so fast it almost hurt.

Seth had arrived, and I had to pull myself together.

Chapter Two

Seth

The thump was maddening. I opened my eyes, seeing nothing but the brass ceiling tiles. They were sturdy and antique, decorated with an ever-repeating pattern. A Brigid’s Knot, to be exact, which was associated with the Gaelic pagan goddess of healers, poets, smiths and inspiration.

Without looking, I set the needle back to rights, pounding music filling my skull via the stereo headphones. They were the huge, tin-can style type that were making a comeback. Probably because they were significantly more comfortable than earbuds.

By sheer happenstance, I noticed the steady march of time had brought me to the point where I had half an hour before I was late to show up at the office.