Rakul preet Singh
Rakul shifted nervously in the back of the elevator as it climbed ever higher, stopping every few floors to let well-dressed business people off. She checked her reflection in the panelled mirrors, adjusting the hem of her pencil skirt, smoothing back her long ponytail, checking her makeup, and generally worrying about her appearance. She needed this job. The interview had to go perfectly. She couldn't afford another failure.
Though she was only in her second year of college, she had switched her major a half a dozen times. Nursing was too gross, pre-veterinary classes were too hard, English was too much work, and she had tried education only to learn she couldn't stand children in large groups. On top of that, she had never been very good at school. She had begun to form a sneaking suspicion that her high school teachers had let her sneak by with B's and C's only because she was sweet and pretty. She had been put on academic probation, and her parents refused to pay for another semester until she figured out what she wanted to do. She had moved out of the dorms into a house with five other girls, and desperately searched for something to pay her share of the rent that she could apply for with her meagre qualifications. She filled out nearly fifty applications, only hearing back from five, all of them turning her down. It was with fading hope and a drained bank account that she clicked submit on the application for a personal secretary at the BlueStar marketing firm, accepted the call for an interview with a wavering voice, and now rode the elevator to the sixty eighth floor of the downtown skyscraper in her best interview clothes.
Soon, it was just her and an elderly gentleman left on the elevator. When the bell dinged at floor sixty eight, she started forward, her legs quaking. She fell forward a bit, her breasts pushing into the man's arm. She caught herself, flushing red, apologising profusely. The man just smiled, and gave her a once-over with his eyes.
"Good luck, dear," he said, watching her hurry out of the elevator. She was still blushing.
Trying to compose herself, Rakul straightened her spine and walked into the lobby. It was very clean and modern, the company logo staring at her from the reception desk. She walked past an overweight, middle-aged woman complaining loudly into her phone.
"Why would they call me for an interview if the position had already been filled!?" the woman said, and Rakul's heart sank. "I know! That's what that little tart at the counter told me!" As she said this, the woman's eyes swivelled over to meet Rakul's. She looked away quickly, moving towards the reception desk, hoping against hope that the woman hadn't been applying for the same position as she was. She just couldn't have been. Rakul couldn't bear to move back home, a failure.
She reached the front desk, and a pretty black girl with long braids smiled up at her. "What can I do for you?"
"Um..." Rakul swallowed, trying to regain her shaky confidence. "I'm here for an interview, for the personal secretary position. If it's still available."
"Name?"
"Rakul Preet Singh."
The girl clicked some things on her computer screen. She had beautifully done nails and impeccable makeup, but that's not what Rakul's eyes were drawn to. The receptionist wore designer clothes, but they all seemed a little too small for her. Her skirt on her lap rode up to reveal the hint of the top of a lace stocking, and the edge of a lacy bra peaked out between the gap in the buttons on her shirt, almost inviting the gaze of strangers. Rakul realised she was staring at the curve of the receptionist's breasts, and glanced away, embarrassed.
"Miss Rakul. Here we are," the girl smiled at her. "Have a seat, please. Mr. Taylor will see you shortly for the interview."
Rakul felt her shoulders relax in relief. "Thank goodness," she breathed. "I passed a woman by the elevator who made me think the job had been filled."
"It had for her," the receptionist said, nodding. Rakul furrowed her eyebrows. The receptionist scooted forward, conspiratorially. "We can't specify ages in the ad, because that's discrimination. But the company has a certain image in mind, and Mr. Taylor needs a young, fresh face to meet his clients to maintain that image. You're pretty. He'll like you."
Rakul flushed pink.
"Plus," the receptionist continued, "If you're hired, I'll be working directly with you. I think we'll have more to talk about than I would with a woman her age, don't you think? I'm Leticia, by the way." She smiled, revealing rows of perfect teeth. Rakul began to feel self-conscious about her own smile, suddenly wishing she had brought a toothbrush. The confidence-boosting frappuccino she had on the train may have left coffee stains on her teeth.
Before Rakul could respond, an intercom buzzed at the receptionist's side.
"Leticia?" the speaker said, a commanding male voice. "If that interview is here, you can bring her back."
"Right away, Mr. Taylor," Leticia said. She rose gracefully. "Follow me, hun."
Rakul followed the receptionist down the back hallway, mesmerized by the sway of her hips. She wore tall heels that clicked on the tile floors. There was a zipper pulling together the fabric of her short skirt, running all the way up the ample curve of her ass to the tapering small of her back. Rakul again tried not to stare, feeling a little frumpy her in own outfit. Leticia stopped before an open door, and knocked.
"Good luck, hun," she said with a smile, opening the door. "I hope you get the job." Rakul steeled herself, and walked through.
The office was large and elegant. A plush sofa sat against one wall, opposite a wide window overlooking the bay below. There were lush potted plants in the corners, shelves of books and shiny awards, and a broad, antique desk in the center of the room. Seated behind it was a rather handsome man in his late thirties in an expensive-looking suit and an equally expensive haircut. He didn't stand up when Rakul entered, only nodded to her.
"Rakul?" he asked. It was the same commanding tone from the intercom. His blue eyes seemed to look right through her.
"Ye-- Yes, sir." Rakul inwardly cursed herself for how awkward her voice sounded. "I'm here for the interview?"
"Looks like it," Taylor said. He leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over the other knee. "Have a seat." He waved his hand at the two chairs on the other side of the desk. Rakul sat on the edge of one gingerly, while Taylor reached for a stapled packet of papers. He started leafing through it.
"I was just reading over your application," he mused. Rakul could feel her legs shaking, and clasped a hand over each knee to try to steady them. The application questions had been... different. There had been some personality questions, multiple choice options that asked how she dealt with confrontation, authority, how she reacted when making mistakes, if she confessed secrets or kept them to herself. She had had to write answers about her definitions of success, the importance of following directions, and what attention to detail meant to her. She had needed to explain her commitment to her work and how she balanced a professional and personal life. None of the other applications she had completed had been so thorough, but at this point, she was desperate.
"I hope my answers are good," Rakul said nervously, then berated herself inwardly for sounding stupid. "I had one of my roommates check everything over for typos. But she didn't find many." Rakul added this last part quickly, trying to make herself seem capable.
"How many roommates do you have?" Taylor asked. Rakul couldn't tell if the answer mattered for the interview, or if he were just making conversation. With his eyes on her, she almost forgot how to speak. She coughed.
"There's six of us," she said. "They're all going to the University, but I... I'm taking a semester off. To get some work experience."
"All girls?"
Rakul nodded.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
Rakul tried not to let the surprise show on her face. She stumbled over an answer, trying to figure out how that was relevant.
"Sometimes I will need your assistance outside of the standard work day," Taylor explained. "When there's deadlines and last-minute things. You will always be compensated with overtime pay or have that time roll over into additional paid time off. It's easier if you don't have other commitments that may interfere."
"Oh," Rakul said, laughing a little. "I see. No, I don't have a boyfriend."
Taylor nodded, and continued paging through her application. "I did like your answers to a lot of these questions. You seem like a good fit."
Rakul smiled, only at the last minute remembering the potential for coffee teeth.
"One question that's not on here, however," he said. He looked up at her with those penetrating eyes. "And please be honest. How badly do you need this job?"
Rakul's words caught in her throat. This wasn't in any of the practice interview questions she had read about online. "I... I really need it, sir," she finally said. "All the other places I've applied have turned me down. If I can't find a decent job to pay rent and save for another semester of classes, I'm going to have to move back home, and my parents are already losing hope in me. I promise, I'll do my very best, and I'm really good at learning new things. Well, new things that aren't too tricky. But I'm good at phone calls, and schedules, and taking notes, and everything it said on the website I would have to do for this job. I just need someone to give me a chance. I promise, sir, I won't let you down. I'll do whatever I can to be a good secretary for you."
Rakul worried this was too over the top, but Mr. Taylor's mouth curled into a smile. "I like that commitment," he said. "Can I take that as a promise?"
"Yes, sir," Rakul said, trying to contain her emotion.
"Good." He tossed the application packet back on his desk. "See Leticia about the paperwork. I'll see you at eight tomorrow morning."
"I... what?" Rakul stared, stunned.
"You're hired."
"Just like that?" she breathed.
"Sure. I like your smile." Rakul felt her heart pound in her chest. "Though I do need to call back a client in London before he heads home for the day, so go see Leticia about the rest." He leaned forward, reaching for his phone.
"Yes, of course, sir. Thank you!" Rakul shot to her feet, feeling dizzy and happy. She almost fell forward, but caught herself with a hand on the back of the chair. She could have bounced out of the office.
"One thing," Taylor said, pausing with the phone in his hand. Rakul turned. She felt his eyes over her body.
"There's a bit of a dress code," he said. "We have an image as a young, vibrant, modern company, and we need our administrative assistants to reflect the brand, since you'll be the first person a lot of clients see. So heels are mandatory." He looked down at her feet, at her modest, closed-toe kitten heels. "At least three inches. Skirts, not slacks, and the hem should fall above your knees. Longer than that is too old fashioned, and we do not want our clients to think we're out of touch with current trends."
Rakul looked down at her skirt, the bottoms of her knees poking out just under the fabric. "Is... is this too long?"
Taylor smiled. "You know that old school uniform test, where the girls' skirts had to be below their fingertips when they held them at their sides?"
Rakul nodded. She had gone to private school for eight years.
"The opposite of that. Your skirt needs to be shorter than your fingertips. Go buy some tonight, bring the receipts, and we'll reimburse you."
"...really?"
Taylor nodded. "Now if you'll excuse me, Miss Rakul."
"Of course, sir!" Rakul nodded deeply, and floated out of the office on a cloud of her own excitement.
Rakul showed up the next day, hoping her outfit was suitable. She had agonized over it the night before, pulling clothes out of her closet and modeling them for her roommates. She had remembered Leticia's style, and tried to find one of her own to match. She felt strange about taking up Mr. Taylor's offer to buy things on company credit, so she had made do with what she already had. She was wearing a skirt that she had only previously worn out to the bars-- a tight black one that hugged her hips and fell only halfway down her thigh. She had taller heels, too, ones that made her ass pop when she twirled in front of her bedroom mirror. She had to be careful getting on the train downtown from her campus apartment, watching not to let the stiletto heels trip her up as she walked down the platform. When she sat, she was careful to keep her thighs tightly together, as the skirt was short enough to give everyone a glimpse of her panties if she didn't. She was aware of the eyes on her as she rode the train, some looking at her jealousy, others hungrily. She usually didn't go out like this sober, or without a group of her friends dressed the same. She felt... exposed.
The train stopped about a block from the downtown skyscraper, and she tried to mimic Leticia's confident sway as she made her way down the sidewalk, up the elevator, and onto the sixty-eighth floor. Leticia beamed at her from behind the receptionist's counter.
"Excited for your first day?" Leticia asked, rising. "I'll be training you on the computer stuff and the phones for the morning."
"Do you think my outfit's okay?" Rakul asked. Leticia twirled her fingers, indicating that she should spin around. Rakul did so.
"Girl, you look sexy as hell. It's perfect." Leticia grinned. Rakul flushed pink. "Come on, I'll show you your desk."
She followed Leticia to her station, which was to be just outside Mr. Taylor's office. The door to his office was closed, which made Rakul feel unexpectedly disappointed. Part of her wanted him to look at her, dressed like she was, with those intense eyes of his. But she would have to wait. When Leticia pulled up the calendar on the computer, she could see his schedule-- he was out of the office meeting clients until after lunch.
Leticia sat next to her on the single office chair, their thighs and hips pressed together as she walked Rakul through the necessary programs. She kept catching whiffs of the receptionist's intoxicating perfume as she moved. Leticia's shirt today was so white it was nearly see-through, the lace of her bra and the curves of her breasts perfectly visible, especially when she leaned over Rakul to type in usernames and passwords. Rakul wished she could be as spellbindingly beautiful.
Finally, Leticia modeled how to answer the phone, and how to buzz into Taylor's office. She went in to sit at the boss' desk so that Rakul could practice, answering the call with an artificially deep imitation of a man's voice. They both laughed.
"I think you got it all, girl," Leticia said through the intercom. "Last thing. Come on in here. There's a box of files in here that you can work on. All forms have to get entered into that spreadsheet I showed you."
Soon, Leticia had returned to her post at the front of the office, and Rakul was pulling files, folder by folder, out of a large box in Mr. Taylor's office. She had to enter all the hand-written information herself, to get it saved electronically. It was mind-numbingly boring, but she was pretty confident that she couldn't screw it up. She couldn't bear to mess up on her first day.
As she worked, a few junior members of the firm passed her station on the way to their offices. She tried her best to smile at them, noting that all of them looked her over as if appraising her. A few introduced themselves, but kept the conversations fairly short. Rakul didn't mind. If she could get through the whole file box by the end of the day, there was no way that Mr. Taylor could doubt his quick decision to hire her.
She was in the boss' office, bent over the file box, exchanging one folder for another, when she heard a noise behind her of someone entering. She suddenly remembered the shortness of her skirt, and how anyone behind her had a clear view of her ass and panties. She jerked around in surprise to see Mr. Taylor standing in the entryway to his office. At the same time as she tried to stutter an embarrassed apology, her foot caught on the edge of the box, tripping her. She fell backwards, kicking the box as she fell, sending files scattering across the floor as she collapsed. Her hand flew out, catching another file box on a table, pulling it down on top of her, dumping paper across her body. Horrified, she sat amid the rain of scattered papers, not even realizing that she had fallen with her legs apart.
"I'm so sorry, sir, I'm so sorry!" Rakul stammered. She swung to her knees, trying desperately to collect up all of the papers.
"Stop," Taylor commanded. "You're messing them up worse."
Rakul felt hot tears in her eyes. She sat back on her heels, looking up at him. "I promise, this was a one-time accident. I'm not this much of a screw up." Though she didn't say it out loud, the undercurrent of her voice pleaded, please don't fire me, please don't fire me.
Taylor shut his office door, crossing the room to set his briefcase and suit jacket on one of the chairs. "Why are you in here in the first place?"
Rakul thought she heard anger in his voice. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Leticia..." she said, then stopped to take a deep breath. She looked up at him from her knees, eyes pleading for forgiveness. "Leticia told me to enter the things in this box for you. And then I guess you startled me, and... and I'm so sorry, sir, I really am."
"Stand up." His voice was calm. Maybe he wasn't angry. Rakul did as she was told, rising shakily to balance on her heels. She smoothed her skirt, but couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.
"You look nice. On brand."
Rakul chanced a glance upward, feeling her cheeks redden. He was studying her legs. Standing next to him like this, she realized how large he was, and how small she felt next to him. He was nearly a foot taller than her five foot four stature, and he had fairly broad shoulders. His thick forearms showing beneath his rolled-up shirt sleeves hinted at muscle hidden beneath the tailored suits.
"Just a shame that you've messed up so quickly," he said. "This is a fast-paced business. We don't have time for stupid mistakes."
Rakul's heart sank. "Please give me another chance. It won't happen again, I promise."
"No, it won't," Taylor said. "I believe strongly in learning from mistakes. So we'll just need to make sure you remember this, so it doesn't happen again."
Rakul dropped her eyes. "I will."
"I need to make sure of that," Taylor said. "Turn around. Put your hands on the desk."
Rakul's eyebrows furrowed. "...sir?"
"Or you can go home now, and start looking for another job."
"No! No, I'm sorry, sir!" Rakul turned to his large, mostly clear desk, putting her hands on the edge of it. She glanced back over her shoulder at him. "Like this?"
He stepped towards her, placing a hand on her back between her shoulder blades, nudging her forward. She sank down lower, so her back was parallel with the surface of the desk, her elbows touching it, her ass sticking straight out. She felt the material pull up from the backs of her thighs, knowing full well her panties were on display. She shuffled on her stiletto heels uncomfortably, feeling her face redden even more.
"The best way to make something stick in your memory," Taylor said cooly, "is to give it a connection to some physical sensation. A small child won't listen when her father tells her not to touch a hot stove. When she touches it, how does she remember not to make the same mistake?"
There was a long moment before the embarrassed Rakul realized he wanted an answer. "She... she burns herself?"
"Pain," Taylor said. With that, he brought his hand down hard on Rakul's ass. There was a loud smack, almost as loud as the cry of surprise she let out. She tried to rise, but his other hand had moved up to the back of her neck, holding her down. She tried to reach behind her with one hand to push him away, but that only removed her support, and her face fell, cheek first, onto the surface of the desk.
"It will only hurt a little," Taylor said calmly, tugging up the hem of her skirt onto her waist. "So that you remember."
His hand came down again, this time on the other cheek. Rakul's cry wasn't as loud. Instead, she gritted her teeth against the sting on her ass. A few more strikes, and the hot tears welled up in her eyes. Finally, they stopped, and Taylor's hand was a gentle caress against her reddened skin. She could feel it throbbing as she dared to breathe.
"You have a great ass," Taylor said. "It looks even better like this." He hooked a finger in the waist of her panties, pulling them down to her knees. His touch returned, curling over the curve of her ass, his finger tracing down the center. Rakul burned with embarrassment. She felt his finger slide between the folds between her legs, and realized by how easily his finger moved that she was wet. He didn't enter her, merely sliding the traces of arousal up and down.
"The personality test wasn't wrong," he mused. "You like being dominated, don't you?"
"Please..." Rakul gasped. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sir."
He spanked her again, letting her cry ring in the air before raining another round of strikes down on her already abused ass. When he was done, she was gasping, her makeup smeared by her tears.
"Do you still need this job?" he asked. Rakul could only nod against the surface of the desk. He struck her ass again. "Use your voice."
"Yes. Yes, sir, I need this job!"
Taylor smiled. "I thought so. Are you going to mess up my files again?"
"No, sir. I promise, I won't."
Finally, he stepped away from her, his touch left her ass, and the pressure holding her down to the desk vanished. She was hesitant to straighten up for a moment. When she did, she reached first for her panties, to cover herself.
"No," Taylor said sternly, and she froze. "Take those off."
Caught in his gaze, Rakul slowly stepped out of her panties. She picked them up from the floor, and her boss held out his hand for them. She handed them over.
"In fact," he said, running his fingers over the soft cotton, "don't wear any panties to work anymore. You don't need them. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Rakul said, watching him toy with her underwear. She had tugged her skirt down to cover herself-- he hadn't objected to that. The tight fabric put pressure on the throbbing of her ass, but it was better than standing exposed in his office.
"Good. You can pick up these papers, and get them re-organized, then continue your filing."
As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, he sat down in his office chair, stuck her panties in his top drawer, and attended to his computer. Rakul dropped down to her knees amid the sea of papers, focusing on attoning for her mistake.
Rakul had thought for a long time about whether or not to return to work the next day. She had fixed up her ruined makeup as best as she could in the bathroom before anyone had seen, and acted cheerful for Leticia when she left for the day. She hadn't been able to sit down on the train home, since her ass was still throbbing from the spanking. She felt like everyone on the train knew, just like they all knew she wasn't wearing anything under her short, clingy skirt, just like they all knew how wet she had gotten when Mr. Taylor had pushed her against that desk and punished her. She was wet even thinking of it now. When she got home and showered, she looked at the light violet bruises on her ass. They weren't too dark-- would likely be gone by morning-- but were a glaring reminder of her mistake.
She kept replaying it in her mind. There was the pain, yes, but there was also that tingling senstation that flowed through her when he had touched her-- ran his finger down between her ass cheeks, along the wet lips of her sex. She hadn't wanted him to stop. She had wanted him to push into her, with more than just his fingers.
It wasn't until her mother called, asking her about her new job-- with the hidden subtext asking how long it would be until she would fail at that, too-- that Rakul accepted reality. There was no way she could quit, not and face the disappointment of her parents. She would just have to try not to make any more mistakes.
The next day, she was back on the train, wearing a different short skirt and tall heels, prepared to do her best for Mr. Taylor. She wore panties beneath the skirt, only because the skirt she chose was looser, and it would be just her luck to have a stray gust of wind show the world her assets if she didn't. Before she got on the elevator, she ducked into the bathroom, slid them off in a stall, and tucked them in her purse.
It was fortunate she did. After meeting Leticia's usually energetic greeting, she headed down to her desk. Taylor's office door was open, and he was already there. He looked up from his work when he saw her, and she tried her best to mimic Leticia's warm smile. He smiled back at her.
"Miss Rakul, could you come in here for a moment?"
Rakul's heart began to pound. The memory of his hand against her ass made her skin tingle. She stepped inside his office with trepidation.
"Yes, sir?"
"I have a list of tasks for you this morning. I sent it to you in an email, however, I'd like you to make the phone calls before anything else. I don't think I put it first on the list."
"Of course," she said uncertainly. "I'll get right on it."
"Thank you," he said, turning back to his work. Rakul breathed a sigh of relief. As she turned to go, his voice called out to her again. "One more thing."
She turned back to him, meeting the intensity of his stare. "Dress code check."
Rakul held out her hands, looking down at her outfit. She had a button-down shirt tucked into a loose, but short skirt, and the same heels as she had worn the day before.
"Unbutton that top button," Taylor advised. "Otherwise it makes you look too stiff."
Rakul nodded, and undid the top button of her blouse. "Otherwise, is it okay?"
"It is," Taylor said. "As long as you're following the additional rule I gave you yesterday."
Rakul flushed, thinking of the panties in her purse, and the second pair that might still be in his desk drawer.
"I... I am, sir."
"Show me."
With a quick glance out the still open door into the hall, she took a few steps towards his desk. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she lifted up the hem of her skirt, revealing the bare and moistening secret beneath. He smiled at her.
"Good. I like a girl who can follow instructions."
Rakul let the hem of her skirt drop.
"It will also serve as a good reminder to be careful with your work. I'd like you to finish most of the list before lunch, if you could."
"Yes. I'll do my best for you, Mr. Taylor."
When she put her mind to it, Rakul was actually an efficient administrative assistant. She made phone calls, scheduled meetings, processed data, made copies, and typed up meeting notes dutifully. The rest of her first week passed without incident, Mr. Taylor only checking that she complied with dress code one additional time before Friday. She hadn't made any mistakes, and hadn't had need of any more punishment. On Friday afternoon, he called her into his office just before she was scheduled to leave for the day. She entered with less hesitation than she had previously.
"Yes, sir?"
Taylor smiled up at her. "You've done very good work this week, Miss Rakul," he said. "I knew I made a good decision in hiring you."
"Thank you, sir." Rakul tried not to smile too widely. It felt good to succeed after so much failure.
"Because all of the paperwork needs to get processed through the system, you likely won't get your first paycheck for another week and a half," he said. "But I've pulled some petty cash for you, and I'd like you to have it."
He picked up an envelope from his desk, and held it out to her. She approached, trying not to seem too eager.
"Are... are you sure?"
"Of course. Go out and have some fun. Go shopping. Whatever you want. You've earned it."
Her hand brushed his as she took the envelope from him. She flushed. He only smiled.
That weekend, she did go shopping with one of her roommates, Amber. She needed more work skirts, outfits that looked as stylish and alluring as Leticia's always did. They hunted through the boutiques, looking for deals, wanting to make their student incomes go as far as possible. Rakul tugged out a tiny skirt, only enough to cover the barest bits of her body.
"This is cute," she said, holding it out to Amber, modeling it against herself.
"Sure, for the weekend," Amber said.
"I can wear it to work. Leticia has one just like it."
Amber raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were a secretary, not a stripper."
"Ha, ha," Rakul said, tucking the skirt in the crook of her arm. "It's a very cutting-edge business. We need to look hot for the clients. Makes a good first impression."
Amber rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say."
With a new wardrobe that showed just a little more skin, Rakul was eager to return to work the next week. She found she was beginning to enjoy the stares she got on the train, the whistles from the construction site between the train platform and the office building, the silent attentions of the junior partners at the office, the intense gaze and smile of approval of her boss. Like Leticia told her, she looked hot. If you've got it, flaunt it.
There were important meetings scheduled for that week, meetings that Rakul herself had arranged the week previously, all with big-name, important clients. She made sure to greet each one warmly in the waiting room, lead them back to Mr. Taylor's office, knowing they were all looking at the outline of her ass and the bare backs of her thighs as she did so. She had just led one particularly hungry-looking businessman back to Mr. Taylor's office when Leticia called from the reception desk.
"Mr. Johnson's here for a ten-thirty appointment," she said, her voice a little rushed.
Rakul frowned. "But... but I just walked Mr. Taylor's ten-thirty into his office."
"Take a look at the schedule, hun. I think you double booked it."
With mounting horror, Rakul clicked through screens and brought up the schedule. Her eyes scanned the details, trying to find a way where it wasn't her fault. She had scheduled both of those meetings, made the calls, sent the verification emails. The skin on her ass started to tingle in memory of the last time she had messed up. In a hushed, panicked voice, she pleaded for Leticia's wisdom.
"What do I do?!"
"Better come explain the situation to Mr. Johnson as nice as you can and reschedule," Leticia said. "And then explain it even nicer to Mr. Taylor."
Sheepishly, Rakul crept out to the reception area, to meet a grumpy-looking middle aged man who seemed to suffer from both jet lag and indigestion. She tried to explain as best she could, and although he was calm, he clearly wasn't happy. She rescheduled, using Leticia's computer, apologizing profusely and triple-checking to make sure she didn't make the same mistake. She slunk back to her desk.
When Taylor exited, laughing with the client he did meet with, Rakul rose, ready to brave the punishment he would dole out on her after her explanation. She didn't get to say anything, though-- Taylor told her he would be going out to lunch with the client, leaving her to stew in misery until he returned.
When he did, his expression had changed completely. When she saw him coming down the hallway, she rose, ready to apologize. His piercing gaze kept the words from leaving her throat.
"Please follow me into my office, Miss Rakul." His tone was curt, uncompromising. Knees shaking, she did. He held the door for her, and shut it behind her, before crossing to stand before her. She couldn't bring herself to look at him.
"I received a rather unpleasant phone call from Ted Johnson," he said, matter-of-factly. "He talked about the idiot ditz of a secretary I have working for me, and how she can't handle a simple calendar. His words, not mine."
The insults hit her like a blow to the gut, but she did her best to keep from doubling over.
"I... I'm sorry, sir. I tried my best to make it right."
"That's two strikes, Miss Rakul. Are you sure you want to keep this job?"
"Yes!" She tried to calm the desperation in her voice. She had spent more than she had meant to on new work clothes. If she didn't get that next paycheck, she wouldn't have rent money, and Amber wasn't going to loan her any more. "Yes, sir. It won't happen again."
"Let's make sure it doesn't." He motioned to the edge of his desk.
Taking careful steps, Rakul crossed in front of him, leaning down over the desk, assuming the same position she had for her earlier punishment. She was wearing the tiny skirt she had bought that weekend. He wouldn't even need to lift it in order to...
She suddenly felt her heart drop into her stomach. She hadn't taken her panties off that morning before she got on the elevator. She had completely forgotten. She tried to straighten up, trying to think of an excuse, but it was too late. His strong hand was already on the back of her neck, pushing her down. Her cheek touched the surface of the desk as tears welled in her eyes. She knew he was looking at her, seeing the little pink panties peeking out at him.
"It seems that we have strike three already." His voice was cold, edged with authority.
"I'm so sorry, I forgot!" Rakul gasped. She felt him jerk the panties down roughly. They fell to her ankles. "Please, Mr. Taylor, I didn't do it on purpose!"
He bent down to pick up her panties, pulling them off of her feet. Though the pressure holding her down to the desk lessened for him to do this, she didn't dare move. She stayed there, breasts pressed against the surface of the desk, bare ass high in the air, while she knew he had to notice how wet the panties had gotten. All the while he was at lunch, she was thinking with anxious dread about the punishment he would give her when he returned.
"Please don't fire me! I'm so sorry!"
"You talk too much," Taylor said. He forced the ball of her wet underwear into her mouth, holding his hand over it so that she had to hold it there. She could taste herself on the fabric.
"Keep that there. I don't want to hear your apologies yet."
Rakul braced herself for what she knew was coming next. His hand flew down against her ass, leaving a resounding crack. Her cry was muffled by the panties in her mouth. He alternated cheeks, just like before, but didn't let up to gently caress her in between. He was harsh, angry. She had messed up not just once, but twice in the same day. Her ass was burning, tears trailing down her cheeks, smearing her makeup. Her teeth clamped down hard on her panties as the hot pain grew in her ass.
Finally, after she thought she couldn't take any more, he stopped. She heard him breathing heavily with exertion. She dared open her eyes looking back over her shoulder at him, watching him loosen his tie. He glared down at her, though there wasn't necessarily anger in his eyes. It was more like hunger. He whipped off his tie.
"Put your hands behind your back," he said, and Rakul did as she was told. It meant losing her support, putting all of her weight down on her cheek and her breasts against the desk, but she did it anyway. He arranged her wrists next to each other on the small of her back, looping them together with his tie. He tugged on her hands to make sure they were bound tightly.
"It seems that you will need a more intense reminder this time."
Rakul tried to plead her apologies once more, her voice muffled by the gag of her panties. He slapped her ass again, hard, to shut her up. Her voice shrank to a squeak in her throat. He ran his fingers, gently now, over the burning red skin. It would definitely bruise this time. His touch went down her ass, like before, and she subconsciously leaned back into the touch, wanting him to go further than he had last time. His fingers slipped down to the wet entrance of her sex, teasing, sliding further forward and brushing against her clit. She shuddered, moaning softly into the gag.
He laughed lightly above her, and she flushed.
"You like that, don't you?" he crooned. "You said you didn't have a boyfriend. No one to touch you there in a while?"
His fingers swirled around her most sensitive spot, sending tingles through her.
"Hard to believe, a pretty girl like you. You could have anyone you wanted if you only asked."
He increased the pressure only slightly, but the pleasure doubled. She spread her legs as far as the height of the desk allowed, granting him easier access to more of her.
"The men in this office all want you. I know you've noticed them looking. But they're not allowed to have you."
He sped up the movement of his fingers against her, leaving her moaning around the gag.
"They all go home at night and jack off thinking about fucking you. About touching you. Like I am right now."
While his fingers kept moving, Taylor slid his thumb into her sex. He moved it in and out of her as his two fingers rubbed across her clit. Rakul let out a muffled groan. She was melting into the desk, the pleasure building within her. He watched her face, eyes squeezed shut. He was working it up to a peak, but he wasn't going to let her have it. He slowly ceased his movements, then slid his wet fingers away from her. She opened her eyes in surprise, looking back at him over her shoulder. He grinned down at her, wickedly, then replaced his fingers against her-- only this time, against a different opening.
"You ever been fucked in the ass, Miss Rakul?" Taylor asked, pressing one finger, wet with her own arousal, against Rakul's tight pink asshole. She tensed beneath his touch. "I want an answer to that."
Rakul choked out a muffled, "No, sir," along with a shake of her head.
"Good. Then it can be all mine." He pushed his wet finger inside of her, and her eyes widened in surprise. The shock of the foreign sensation brought heat to her face. He slowly worked his finger in and out of her, and she felt herself loosen around it. Her body began to be more accepting of the intruder, enough so that Taylor was able to push another finger within her. The more he moved, the further inside her he got, the looser she became, the better it felt. He began spreading his fingers, opening her up, pushing his thumb inside her as well. She could feel herself being spread wide, her ass in the air, his cold blue eyes looking right into her most secret parts.
She heard rustling in the desk drawer beneath her, but she couldn't see what Taylor was searching for. She could feel it, however. As his fingers retreated, something about the same size in full, rubbery smoothness replaced it, filling her. She groaned as it slid into her ass, feeling her muscles close around a tapered end of it, holding it in place but keeping her spread open. Taylor moved it slowly, sliding it in and out of her a little before leaving it inside of her.
"You've probably never worn one of those, either. I like to think I bought it just for you."
His hands were on her throbbing ass cheeks again, caressing the heat his spankings had brought to the surface. Rakul was breathing hard. She wanted more-- his fingers had only teased her-- but was afraid of what might come next.
He pulled her up by the shoulders, turning her around forcefully. Her bare ass cheeks pressed into the edge of the desk, making her wince, while her bound hands hung uselessly behind her back. She was looking into his hungry eyes now, the sadistic smile, smelling his cologne and feeling his strong hands grip her thin shoulders. Her heart thumped in her chest. He held her chin in his hand.
"I'm going to take that out of your mouth," he said softly, "but I don't want to hear any apologies or excuses. Do you understand?"
Rakul nodded and uttered a muffled, "yes, sir." He stuck his fingers in her mouth, pulling the saliva-soaked panties from them, and tossing them on the floor. She stared up into his eyes, equal parts frightened by what he might do to her and longing for his touch.
He kissed her then, forcefully, crushing his lips into hers. She sank into it, her mouth opening as he pushed his tongue inside, tasting her. His hands had now moved to her chest, each gripping one of her breasts, squeezing hard. She moaned against him. He tore apart her button-down shirt, popping off more than one of the buttons, exposing her breasts in their lacy push-up bra. He pulled away from her mouth to look at them.
Rakul's chest was heaving. She had modest breasts, barely a handful each, and in an effort to emulate Leticia's curves, she had bought a bra that had given her deep cleavage and held her breasts high. She was trapped between the desk and Taylor's body as he grabbed the little bit of the garment between her breasts. She didn't dare look down as his other hand grabbed something from the desk drawer.
"Don't move," he said, and she felt something cold and metal slide up against the skin between her ribs. She heard the snipping sound as the scissors cut through the bra, the tension releasing, her breasts falling free. She gasped, and he muffled her voice with another ravenous kiss. He dropped the scissors back into the drawer and pulled back the sleeves of her shirt and the remains of her bra back from her shoulders onto her bound forearms.
His mouth moved down from hers, onto her chin, her neck, her shoulder, sucking hard and hungrily at the soft skin, sending tingles of sensation through Rakul. He pushed her backwards, and she had to catch herself on her tied hands as he sucked at her breasts as his hands squeezed from below. Her nipples hardened against his tongue, and she moaned against the feeling. He sucked hard on one, pinching the other between his fingers until she cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. With that, he pulled away, smiling down at her, holding tight to her shoulder.
Without taking his eyes off of her breasts, he reached into the desk drawer one last time, pulling out a pair of black binder clips. He set one on the desk beside her as he opened one of them. Rakul watched him, her breath quickening. He held the clip in one hand, her right breast in the other, the little pink nipple jutting out from it.
"Mr. Taylor..." she breathed, but he silenced her with a glare.
"I'll let you know when I want you to speak," he said. He returned his attention to her breast, and centered the clip over her nipple. He released it, clamping it onto the sensitive nub, still wet with his saliva.
Rakul cried out at the pain that shot through her. She tried to squirm away, but pinned between the desk and her boss' powerful body, her hands bound, there was nothing she could do. She watched with wet eyes as Taylor clamped the second clip onto her other breast. He moved his hands away to admire the sight of her breasts heaving with her panting breaths, the clips dangling from each nipple. He kissed her again, his hands roaming down her sides and her waist, pulling her towards him.
She was powerless to stop him from moving her around like a doll. He pulled her wet sex against the front of his pants, and she could feel the hard arousal there straining against the cloth as he pressed against her. His hands were on the back of her neck and her shoulder, crushing her against him. He pulled her up onto her feet, and she fell against his chest. The clips moved and sent shivers of pain through her. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
"Now is the part where you get to apologize," Taylor said. "You're not going to use your words, but you are going to use your mouth. Get on your knees."
Shakily, Rakul sank to her knees in front of him. Her skirt had been wrenched up to her hips, leaving her ass and her sex fully exposed. The plug still sat within her, only the end of it poking out against her reddened and abused ass cheeks. Her shirt lay in tatters, pushed back along her bound arms, her chest fully bared with two clips dangling from reddening nipples. She glanced at the office door. If anyone came through it now and saw her like this...
Taylor was unbuckling his belt. He tugged his shirt out of his waist, unbuttoning each button as he looked down at Rakul kneeling before him. He peeled off the shirt, revealing a toned and muscled chest, and a trail of hair leading down below his waist. Rakul's eyes followed it as he unzipped his pants, freeing his hardened cock from the fabric.
"You know what to do, right?" Taylor asked, brushing the head of his cock against her lips. Obediently, Rakul opened her mouth, though she feared it was too thick and too long to fit. She shut her eyes as she took it as far into her throat as she dared, sucking on it.
"Open your eyes," Taylor said. "Look at me as you suck my cock."
Rakul did so, watching him as he looked down at her with those penetrating eyes. She knew what she must look like from his angle, and flushed red at the thought of it. He tangled his fingers in her blonde hair, grabbing a handful at the back of her head, moving himself in and out of her throat. He pressed further back, making her eyes water. As he pushed in far enough to bury her nose in the coarse hairs at the hilt of his cock, she gagged and pulled away. He let her, only to let a long string of saliva fall from her lips and his cock onto her breasts.
"It's too much," she gasped. "I'm sorry, sir."
He slapped her cheek then, not as hard as he had been hitting her ass, but enough to sting.
"I told you to stop apologizing," he said. "Keep going."
Rakul took his cock back into her mouth, doing her best to fit it down her throat. Her face, her ass, her nipples all stung with pain, yet her sex dripped with arousal. Taylor worked himself against her, not going quite as deep as before, but holding a tight grip on her hair as he thrust into her mouth. He quickened his pace, and Rakul struggled around his cock for air as his breathing grew heavier. With a gasp, he pulled out from her mouth, staring down into her eyes as he spilled his cum all over her breasts. He milked the last drops out against her cheek.
Rakul looked up at him, pleading with her eyes, not daring to utter a word lest she get slapped again. She felt the hot cum run down her chest onto her stomach. He smiled down at her.
"That's how you apologize, Miss Rakul," Taylor said. "Stand up."
Rakul struggled to rise without the aid of her arms. He turned her around by the shoulder, untying the knots in his tie that bound her hands. She breathed a little easier, despite the state she was in. It had to be nearly over. He pulled the remains of her top from her hands gently and she turned to him, fingers tingling as the blood returned to them.
To her surprise, Taylor backed her up against his desk, pushing her down on her back against it. He grabbed her legs behind her knees, pulling them up over his shoulders. She gripped the sides of the desk for balance. He loomed over her, her heels dangling on either side of him.
"You did well," Taylor said. "You've earned a reward."
Before Rakul could dare to respond, he grabbed each of her knees, spreading her legs apart. He sank his mouth down her exposed sex, treating her pussy with the same ravenous attentions that he had used on her mouth. Rakul moaned at the sudden pleasure. It overtook any pain she felt from her nipples, her ass, or her face, and she lost sense of herself as the arousal returned in huge surges. She rocked against his tongue and lips, moaning and gasping. Her back arched, spreading the trails of her boss' cum across her chest. Taylor had total control of her pleasure, and he toyed with her a while, alternating intensity and leaving her a puddle of sensation, but never letting her quite reach that climax.
"Please," she gasped between moans, "Mr. Taylor... I can't... it's too much."
"Do you want to cum?" He asked, replacing his tongue with his fingers to keep the pleasure building in her.
"Yes! Please, sir!" Rakul gasped, writhing on the desktop.
"Since you asked so nicely," Taylor crooned. He returned his mouth to her, building her up to a mind-shattering climax. Rakul's moan came at the top of her voice as the pleasure hit her like lightning. Her muscles tightened around the plug in her ass, she strained against the clips on her nipples, she collapsed against the desk, her legs falling lewdly to either side as she panted. She looked up at Taylor through half-open eyes. She couldn't muster words, and she definitely couldn't move. She sighed contentedly, and barely realized that he held his cell phone in his hand until she heard the tell tale sound of a picture being taken.
The panic must have been plain on her face. She tried to rise up, but he leaned over her, holding her down by her shoulder.
"Don't worry," he said. "It's just for me."
His face breathed inches from hers. She longed to simultaneously scream at him and kiss him. Her mind was too wracked by pain and pleasure to function. She felt something tug at the clips on her nipples, and she felt them release, something almost more painful than when they came on. She cried out as the blood rushed back into them, even more as Taylor massaged her breasts with his hands. She weakly raised her own hands, trying to push his away, but he had moved on down her body. Gripping her thighs below the knees again, he spread her back open. His cock, hard again, pressed against her wet opening.
She felt him push into her. Her body offered no resistance. His cock filled her, and she moaned at the sudden sensation. She hadn't realised how much her body had wanted it, how good it felt to have him within her. He rocked slowly into her, looking down at her with that hungry look. She gripped the edges of the desk as her body moved with each slow, powerful thrust.
"Do you remember what I asked you about at the beginning?" he asked. Her brain fried, Rakul honestly didn't. She shook her head, trying to keep herself from apologising. He slid out of her slowly.
She felt him tug at the plug still spreading open her ass. Slowly, he slid it out. She could feel how open she remained, how he looked down into her. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his cock against her wide open ass. She shook her head weakly again.
Taylor ignored this. He slid forward, his cock slick with her arousal, pushing into her ass. She groaned again, his fingers toying casually with her clit again. He thrust into her until he was buried to the hilt. He pulled out, and slid it again into her pussy. He kept going, switching holes, using them both as he pleased, sending little pulses of pleasure through her with his fingers. She had never felt like such an object, such a toy, completely helpless to whatever her boss wanted to do with her. He fell against her, leaning over her, quickening his pace as he reached his peak again. He slid deep into her ass and groaned against her ear, and she felt him pulse against her insides as he shot his cum into her ass. He lay against her for a while, his heart beating against her chest, then pushed himself up and pulled out of her. Rakul could feel the cum leaking from her.
Taylor straightened, redressing himself. Rakul struggled up to sit on the desk, watching. He was redressed quickly. He looked back at her.
"Your next task is to clean up this mess." He motioned to her, the remains of her clothes, the desk things scattered on the floor, the butt plug sitting near the binder clips.
"Mr. Taylor..." Rakul pleaded, trying to make sense of his words.
"Is there a problem, Miss Rakul?"
"...no. I'll get it taken care of."
"Thank you." He opened the door, heading out into the office. Rakul was left, all but naked and used in every way, in his empty office.
After Taylor had used her, Rakul had attempted to right herself again. Her bra was ruined, and buttons had popped off of her shirt, so she managed to tie the ends together to cover herself but leave her midriff exposed. She didn't dare put her panties back on, and she couldn't sit at her desk, so she stood at her workstation for the rest of the day, feeling his cum slowly leak from her ass down her thigh. She had to show more clients that afternoon, after she had tidied up her boss' office, and she could tell that they knew what a filthy slut she had been.
The train that evening was full. She was left standing, which she would have needed to do anyway, but the car was full. Even as she grabbed the bar above her head, she felt people bump into her and jostle her with every lurch in the track. Her mind was replaying the scene that afternoon, reliving the sensation of Taylor's cock in her mouth, her pussy, her ass, how he had wrecked her with pleasure, how he had utterly humiliated her, and how much she had enjoyed it. Lost in her daydreams, she didn't realise everyone was staring at her, and didn't think that all that strange at first-- after all, tight, short skirts drew attention. It took her a while to realise that the knot she had tied in her shirt had come loose, and it had fallen open, exposing her breasts to the entire train car. Her nipples were still red and hard from the earlier abuse.
She flushed, and tried to cover herself, dropping her grip on the overhead bar just as the train took a turn. She fell forward into a male passenger, stumbling on her heels, sure that everyone behind her got a glimpse of her well-used pussy and ass as she fell. Burning red, fighting with her clothes, the train shuddered to a halt at the next station and she stumbled off in humiliation, despite it still being two stops from her house.
She settled her skimpy clothes as best as she could, feeling the emotion well up in her eyes. She had to quit. She couldn't take the embarrassment. She heard her phone ding in her purse, and dug it out. There was a cash app transaction notification, from Taylor. She opened it up. He had transferred five hundred dollars to her, with a note: "Sorry about your clothes. Please treat yourself to something nice for me."
THE-END
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