This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents After Hours Home Again Consequences
After Hours She stared at the dull carpet of her office floor, watching him step nearer to her feet through the open doorway. She wriggled her toes in her stockings. Her own shoes were kicked to a corner of the room. He was very close to her now. She tilted her head further forward, not daring to raise her eyes even by accident.
Her waist-length hair was pulled back into a simple braid, but it slid forward with her movement, swaying under its own weight in front of her. The braid nearly reached past the hem of the buttoned suit jacket to her skirt. She was unable to close her green eyes as his large hand wrapped around the braid. His own charcoal suit was impeccable and crisp despite a full day at the office. He pulled down slowly but firmly on her hair, drawing her to her knees. They hadn’t even closed the door! It was after hours, but if anyone happened to be working late…
“Come,” he commanded and walked to her desk still holding her by the hair. She crawled after him, not having much other choice. Her stockings immediately caught on the cheap, industrial-blue carpet and grew runs from the knees. He stopped her in front of her desk with a small tug on her hair. She leaned against the tug a little, keeping her head down.
“Good girl,” he said, dropping her braid to pet her head briefly. She flushed with pleasure from that simple praise. His weight shifted in his shoes. One shiny black loafer dangled in front of her and she knew he was sitting on the edge of her desk. It was his desk now. He had claimed it just as he had claimed her. Small shuffling sounds emanated from above her. Was he flipping through her paperwork?
He asked “How were you today?” Not waiting for a response, he stood and walked around her desk.
“I was very good today, Master,” she answered. The squeal of her leather chair gave away his new position as he slid into its deep cushion.
“Stand,” and she stood facing the desk. From here, still with her eyes down, she could see that he had cleared off the center of her desk. The computer monitor was always at one corner, but he had stacked the papers and clutter to the other side, leaving the space between them empty laminate.