M y world shifted on its axis yesterday. Samantha came into my office and gave herself to me .

From now on, she will be my submissive. Of course, she can’t possibly know what that entails. What exactly she’s offering to me .

But the fact is, since yesterday afternoon, my mind has not been able to stop whirling with that information. That she is mine. Mine . To take, to tease, to punish, to torture. To deliciously control. Every sick and twisted way that I want to .

I’m like an addict that’s finally been given an endless supply of his favorite drug, and yet I’m enjoying the anticipation so much that I haven’t even begun to indulge …

Samantha may decide after today that it’s too much. I can’t be too excited. Can’t let myself think too far ahead .

I’m sitting at my desk, having just arrived at work. I a few minutes early—Samantha hasn’t arrived yet and she’s now officially a minute late. A test, even if she doesn’t know it was .

There’s a light rap on my office door .

“Yes?” I say smoothly .

It opens, and her face peers through. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” she offers as she comes in, bearing my mug of coffee. Since she started working for me, she’s had the coffee on my desk and ready for me when I arrive. I threw her off by getting here before she did .

I want to see how she reacts .

“You know what you were supposed to do,” I say quietly .

She pauses. Puts the mug on my desk. Clenches her fingers in front of her. “Yes .”

“Tell me .”

“I was supposed to have the coffee on your desk before you arrive.” Her voice is breathless, giving away a slight tremble .

“You have grown complacent,” I tell her. “Put your hands on the top of the desk .”

Samantha blinks at me in shock. “What ?”

I don’t say a word. Just stand there. If she’s going to do this with me, I need to demonstrate who is in control .

With stilted moves, she leans forward and plants her palms on the desk. Her ass, clad in a pair of form-fitting black pants, is thrust out temptingly .

I get up from my desk and take a leisurely stroll to her side. Stand close to her without moving. “You are to wear dresses or skirts every day from now on. No panties at all. That pussy is to be available to me any time I want to access it. Do you understand me, Samantha ?”

“Yes,” she says, and I can see a shudder of excitement work its way through her spine. Oh, she’s loving this. The realization sends a wave of power through me. I’ll fucking let her know I’m in charge. That’s what she wants. She craves .

“Yes, what?” I prod .

“Yes…sir?” she asks .

“Good girl.” I step behind her. “But you still have to be punished. I expect you to be here before I am, not a second late. With hot coffee ready for me. You must comply to my demands. Do you understand ?”

“Yes, sir,” she says, and I can see her back arching as she sinks into the role. Oh, this girl was made to be submissive, to take orders. And to be stiffly disciplined. I’m so aroused by the sight of her giving herself to me this way .

My darkest impulses have taken over and my blood is racing .

I reach around and unbutton her pants. Thrust them down to her knees. Her panties are a scrap of black fabric, barely covering her ass. “These are indecent,” I say offhandedly as I finger the edges, my hands brushing her ass cheeks .

She shudders from my touch. “Yes, sir.” Her words are shaky but willing. She wants this as much as I do .

I tug one panty cheek to the side and then plant a light smack on her ass. Her whole body stiffens, and she stifles a cry of surprise. Another two swats on her curvy ass, and she’s biting her lip, trying not to say a word. But her whole body is tense. It’s not a real punishment, just enough to warm her up. Let her see who’s controlling things. “You’re going to do better tomorrow,” I remind her .

“Yes, sir,” she finally says .

I straighten her panties and move her to standing. “Get yourself sorted and go email the French publisher I mentioned to you earlier. He wants to acquire the rights to several of our books.” She’s fumbling with her pants, looking awkward, so I step forward and still her movements. Breathe into her ear, “Be a good girl for me .”

That does it. Her whole body relaxes into my words. “Yes, sir,” she says on a long sigh. And then she’s out of the office .

I’m left standing here, thinking about what just happened. How easily she responded to my demands. Accepted my punishment, even though she could have protested it was unfair. Samantha didn’t care though. She took it like a good girl .

Fuck. My cock is unbearably hard and I want nothing more than to plow into her hot, needy pussy right this instant .

It would be so easy to get caught up in this. How much can I maintain control and not lose myself to this? Not give in to all those twisted things I want? To watch her beg me. To see her on her knees before me .

I think about how her body felt that first time between us, and it’s like I’m going to jump out of my skin with desire. I need to be sated .

But no .

I will go slow. I can still keep from sinking too deeply into it. I just have to stay strong. This will not control me .

That sense of control lasts all of an hour. I sit at my computer, fidgeting, attempting to work but struggling to focus. All I can think about is her warm ass under my firm hand. The way she took the spanking without complaint. How she even seemed aroused by it. She’s so innocent but willing to give herself to me. Why ?

I fire off a message to her, telling her to come here. When she knocks on my door, I order her to open it. Upon her stepping inside, I say, “Strip off your panties. Right now.” I don’t know what’s possessed me. I can’t stop thinking about this woman. Wanting her to submit to me .

Samantha pauses for a moment, but she unfastens her pants, takes them off, then her panties .

“Put them on my desk,” I say through gritted teeth .

Her movements are stiff as she does so. I can see the full flush on her face. She’s mortified. Yet…there’s a spark in her eyes that says she’s into it, too. She likes being dirty for me .

“Go put your hands against the wall .”

“Yes, sir,” she breathes, and plants them face-high .

“Lower. At your waist.” I want her bent over, exposed to me .

She seems to understand what I’m asking. With hesitant steps, Samantha does my command. Her ass is out for me, her beautiful, glistening cunt on display .

“When you enter my office, you are to push up your skirt or dress until you are open to me this way,” I tell her. I’m so fucking aroused right now, looking at those pink lower lips, the slick of juices on them. She’s turned on. Her breathing is irregular, and she’s trembling at my words. “You will push our ass out, and you still stand here and be on display for me at my whim. Do you understand ?”

“Yes, sir.” The words are barely whispered .

“You are mine to touch,” I say as I get up. I can’t help myself. I move to her and I allow myself the sheer pleasure of touching her wetness. Fuck me, I can smell her now, that hot and thick scent of arousal that makes my cock rage to be released. I could grab her hips and plunge into her right now. Cup a hand over her mouth and order her to stay silent .

I want to. I so ache to .

But I make myself stay strong. This is just as much about me as it is her. Me doling these moments out for when they are deserved. I want to treasure every one, because I don’t know how long this will last .

Still, I drop down to my knees and nuzzle my nose at her entrance. Breathe her scent in. Her whole body is still, but I can feel her micro-vibrations. She’s on edge. I bet one swipe of my tongue along her slit would make her explode. She is desperate for me .

The thought makes me so fucking turned on I can’t even wrap my head around it. How long I’ve ached for this. Years and years. And then this young, beautiful woman arrives and she’s ripping my world apart .

I give myself the luxury of grabbing her ass cheeks and spreading them apart. Pushing my face against her pussy and smelling deeply. I want this scent imprinted on my nostrils. I want to breathe nothing but her .

Then I make myself move away. Stand up. “Put your pants back on. The panties stay here. They are mine now .”

Samantha does as I command then faces me. Her eyes are heavy-lidded with desire, with that looseness that comes when she’s following my orders. She stands there, waiting for me to tell her what’s next .

“I will text you from now on with my orders,” I say to her impulsively. I know better than to send them through company email. And stupid as it may be to have a record of it, I can’t just keep calling her into my office every time I have a whim. She didn’t call HR on me before, and I have to trust she won’t now .

That she’s just as invested in this as I am .

“Yes, sir,” she says with a faint smile on her face .

“You may go,” I say, dismissing her. She and I are entwined in this together. That much is clear. Where this will go though, I have no idea .

* * *

W ith earbuds in, I stretch my legs on a park bench in Central Park. Heavy guitar and pounding drums vibrate through me—I like music that spurs me into action. Angry stuff. Things with emotions I never let myself feel .

My feet pound on the pavement as I run. I try to get out two to three times a week when I can. Shut out my life and just be in my skin. Forget everything, everyone .

Usually, my running stints are a source of escape for me. But not today .

Not since I’ve known Samantha .

Every waking moment seems to be consumed with her. We started our…new situation a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve been teaching her how to be my submissive. And she’s been responding beautifully. Stubborn at times, of course—but I wouldn’t expect less. But those stubborn moments make it even sweeter when she breaks down and gives in to my demands .

I inhale and exhale steadily. Warm air glides along my skin. We’re inching toward the end of summer now, but it’s still hot in New York City, and even though it’s early in the morning, I’m drenched a few minutes into the run .

Discipline. It’s been the name of the game for years now. Where would I be without my careful discipline? Without those safeguards keeping me in check? Would I lose myself completely? I can’t. I won’t .

I may be fucked up, but no one is going to suffer because of me .

My footsteps pound through the park, past walkers with dogs on leashes, kids in strollers. Happy clusters of families .

I admit, I wanted that at one time. To be normal, to have a wife and kids. But I’ve never been able to love anyone. I’m sure now that I never will. It’s something I’ve accepted about myself. I have enough to keep me busy anyway .

Strongwell Ink is more than a full-time job. It’s a life .

It’s my life .

And I’m okay with that. Because I’m good at it. I don’t need interpersonal skills to make the company a success. I can be myself. No one expects any different .

Not that Samantha is expecting me to be different. She shocked me when she asked me what I really wanted. It was bold and brave. Unexpected .

I duck under a tree branch and head toward the bridge underpass. A couple of runners are there, stretching and drinking water from bottles. I keep going. My legs are beginning to burn, but I don’t stop. I have to push myself harder .

Soon enough, I feel like a machine, with no purpose but running. My body is relaxed, each step moving me closer to the end goal. I feel free .

Free, but not alive .

My birth mother loved running. One of the secret reasons I picked it up. I remember her holding my hand and showing me how to stretch my calves. She was all smiles, all love. A single mother who gave everything she had to raising me .

Thinking about her makes my chest burn. It hurts so badly, but sometimes I can’t stop the pain. I need the pain. To remember her. Because I never want to forget her, even if the remembering makes me feel like I’m being skewered alive .

I push myself to run harder. Like I can outrun those painful memories of the last time I saw her. She should never have died like that. She should still be alive and smiling, despite the hardship in her life. Raising a child alone. Working whatever jobs she had to. But still being kind and loving. Not only to myself, but everyone around her .

The ache in my chest grows, and I will myself to stop thinking about her. At least for now. I have to make it through the day. Finish my run. Go to the office. Work. Do what’s expected of me. My birth mother would never have dreamed I would turn out like this. Rich, powerful .

And I’m not done .

Strongwell Ink will only grow—we have international markets to penetrate. I nudge the earbuds tighter in my ears and keep running. My breath is panting, but I love the way running makes my body feel. Tight, like a well-oiled machine .

Nothing can break me from my path. Including an unexpected woman. I will keep my relationship with Samantha separate from my goals, my aspirations. She might have lodged herself beneath my skin, but that’s all that is there for anyone to touch, to take. I won’t lose control .

* * *

I t’s early afternoon when my office phone buzzes. Samantha. “Yes?” I answer .

“Mr. Wallings is here for your meeting,” she says .

The sound of her voice alone makes my skin feel alive. I don’t know how, but even a few words can spur my pulse to irregularity. “Send him in,” I manage to say .

Wallings walks in, shirt stretching over a wide belly. He’s kind of an oaf, but he’s the head of our printing department, and he makes that shit run for me. I rarely ever have an issue with print runs, and that’s because he keeps a tight ship. So when he wants to meet, I make room for him .

Wallace sits down in the chair opposite me, his bulky frame uncomfortable in the seat. I make a mental note to have Samantha order wider chairs for people to be comfortable. We make small talk for a moment, then he tells me about some concerns he has regarding upgrading of printing equipment and training of employees .

I listen and nod. But admittedly, it’s hard to focus. It’s always hard to focus now. Because Samantha is never far from my mind. I know she’s on the other side of the wall, sitting at her desk. Wearing a dark blue skirt with no panties under it. And I’m aching to touch her wet slit, to make her come for me .

When Wallace finally finishes his spiel, I promise him that we can send a few employees for certification on the printing equipment so the responsibility is more evenly distributed. Then I fire off a text to Samantha .

Go to the bathroom. Get yourself close to coming—but do not cross the line. Then take a picture of your wet fingers in your mouth for me .

I can just imagine how she’s going to react to this. My dick is already at attention, thinking about her shock and arousal .

Yes, sir, is all she replies .

Minutes pass. Fuck. What happened to all that self-control I boast to myself about? I’m acting like a high-schooler who needs to get his rocks off. Giving her orders is doing something to me. Bringing a spark in my chest that I haven’t felt…in I don’t even know how long. I can’t resist it .

My phone vibrates. I slide it open to view the message .

And I just about come in my dress pants .

Samantha put on that sexy-as-fuck red lipstick, apparently. And her drenched fingers are right between those pouty red lips. I need to slide my cock in there so badly I can almost feel it .

She’s driving me insane .

I’m supposed to be the one in control here, not her. She knows what she’s doing. She sure as fuck didn’t have those red lips on before .

Edge yourself every hour until it’s time to go home, I type. But you are not allowed to come. Not until I tell you .

I see the dots indicating she’s typing a response. They pause. Then the message comes through. But I need to. I’m so close. Maybe you should come in here and join me .

Fuck me, she’s still in the bathroom, inviting me in there. I can’t stop the vivid vision of slamming her against a tile wall and shoving that skirt up. Gripping her jaw and pinning her in place as I drive into her again and again, my come exploding and dripping down her thighs .

I know what she’s doing. She’s trying to make me assert control. I like this game. You will edge yourself every hour. Then walk into the break room and get a glass of water. Let everyone smell how wet you are. What a dirty little slut you are. But you are not to come .

Her reply comes fast. OMG. Seriously ??

Are you questioning me ?

No, sir. I can almost hear the surliness in her tone, which makes me laugh. That’s my girl. Obeying but fighting it. I like it. That makes her obedience that much sweeter .

The rest of the day, I keep my door open. So I can hear every time she gets up from her desk. I can hear her going to the bathroom. Then the breakroom. Then back to her desk. Again. And again .

And I can’t help but smile .

It’s almost seven before I’m done working for the day. Of course, that means Samantha stays too. She doesn’t say a word to me, doesn’t text anything. I know she’s frustrated as hell. But since she didn’t complain, I’m going to reward her for being so good and listening .

Come here, I text her when I’m sure everyone else on the floor is gone .

A few moments later, she’s in my doorway, looking small and fragile. Her whole body seems tightly coiled. She has clearly been listening to my directions—she seems ready to explode. Cheeks flushed, breasts full and rising with each inhale .

“Close the door and lock it behind you,” I command her .