I can feel the customers’ glares on my back as I place my to-go order. Thankfully, the cashier doesn’t seem to notice my clothing or she is used to much worse. I make sure to tip her extra for not saying anything; she deserves it for making me feel like it’s just another day.

My calves burn from standing in the heels, and I’m trying not to fidget while waiting for the coffee to be brewed. Every movement of my legs makes my ass stretch the skirt more. I know the guys behind me are staring, but I can’t really complain. This was part of Kodiche’s plan, I know it.

“Have some decency. This is a family establishment!” A woman a few years older than I am gives me the “for shame” look while chastising me.

I hear the chuckles from the two college boys before I can hear their retort. “I’d like to make a family with her.” They egg each other on, earning their own share of haranguing from the busybody.

“Vivian.” The sound of my name makes me jump, heart racing as I try to avoid a full-blown panic attack. It’s just the barista, however, and I take a deep breath before smiling my thanks. I don’t know what I would have done if it was someone I did know. Driving to the other side of our city was worth avoiding running into people while I’m dressed like this.

Retreating to my car, I swing by my home to get the few toiletries I know I’ll need plus some pajamas and clothes. Maybe Kodiche will let me dress myself when I’m doing office work at his home . . . Or not, given this morning.

Am I really up for this, for anything he tells me to do? If I were a more experienced woman, I’d probably say yes and just go with it. The way he held me after I started to fall—just thinking about it makes me shiver all over. Heat spreads through me with the trembles, and it’s not from mortification of being in an outfit better suited for a sex tape than playing errand girl. What if he wants me to make a sex tape with him?

He’s obviously practiced, given how he undressed me and ordered me around. Kodiche knew exactly what he was doing to me. The feel of the lace as he tugged the panties up so high it parted my slit to either side . . . Fuck! I’m so wet now from the memory that the underwear are soaked and sticking to me. And when his cock pushed against my back, I so wanted him to just take me then and there. My coworkers have accused me of sleeping with him to get this job, even thought it was his father who hired me, but if they only knew what I’m doing now.

I’ve only slept with one man, and he broke my heart not long after. He just wanted to fuck me and then made sure to shatter me before going. A few months into our relationship, he made sure everyone knew that I was too much effort to be worth it. My infrequent migraines from stress were too much for him, as was our “vanilla sex life” as he’d put it. My boyfriend got down on one knee at a party, and when everyone turned their attention—thinking he was going to ask me to marry him—he announced I had just been a pity fuck. “Who could really love someone so broken and sick all the goddamned time?” he’d said when all eyes were on us.

It's been three years since I’d trusted anyone with that level of intimacy, three years of not letting anyone close enough to touch me, and there I was with my boss this morning: panting and ready for him like I was in heat. It took a few months for me to get accustomed to Kodiche and his Oh-God-Please-Fuck-Me-Bad-Boy aura. I went on runs during my lunch hours to try and sweat out my arousal. All it did was earn me knowing smiles from the other women at work. In my time as his secretary, I had never seen a family photo or heard about a girlfriend. His father came for the holiday party once after retiring, but he left following the toast without making any small talk with our staff. I’ve forwarded his calls a few times, but that’s it.

Kodiche seems so alone.

My thoughts accompany me all the way back to Kodiche’s mansion, and a garage door is open as he’d promised me. Thinking of how lonely he must be makes me feel a little less annoyed with him for choosing this dress for me. It can’t be easy to find true companionship when he’s busy all the time. Maybe this is the only way he knows how to get someone? I don’t want to think of how many have been like this before me. I really don’t want to think of what else he might ask of me. “Just one moment at a time,” I whisper into the nearly empty garage.

It’s a struggle to get all his groceries into the door leading to the pantry from the garage. I manage to get them all in without dropping the eggs or smashing the bread, truly a miracle given the lack of help I receive. Kodiche doesn’t seem to even notice I’m back . . . If he’s even home. For all I know he could have left for the office, leaving me here alone.

The pantry has each shelf labeled with what goes where, but it’s so empty that the few groceries he sent me for don’t take up much space. Steak and shrimp go into the fridge, and even it is bare. A bottle of ketchup and another of soy sauce are in the door, sentinels guarding the single box of leftover takeout in the entire fridge. It’s bizarre—does he never eat at home? Is that why he has me here, to cook for him? I mean, he could just be absolutely clueless in the kitchen. With his work hours, it’s not like he would be home often to cook for himself.

With that task done, I check my coffee to make sure it’s still hot before going to find if Kodiche is home. Carrying the two cups, I wander throughout the main level, checking each room as I go. The stiletto spikes of my heels make a strange echo against the marble, accompanying me on my search. A light is on in the den. Even that’s empty, but a door is open on the far side. Peeking my head around the corner, I call his name softly. “Mr. Lamant?” When there isn’t an answer, I go in further. There was a larger library further down the wing, but this must be his private book room. The space is mostly barren: the empty room only has built-in bookcases, a coffee table marred with circles from condensation rings, and a chair. A book lies open on the chair, and I can’t resist the temptation to see what he was reading. It might be easier to understand Kodiche if I have any ideas of what he’s like outside the boardroom.

The spine is cracked from frequent reading, and while I don’t recognize the title, the cover art makes it easy to tell the subject. A man is dressed in a suit and has a woman on her knees in front of him, not covered much less than I am now. It’s the look of rapture on her face that steals my attention.

Setting our coffees carefully on the table beside the chair, I sit down and skim the book. He’d left it open to just the first chapter, an introduction from someone named Master Donovan to the reader about the story they’re sharing. Looking over my shoulder, I check to make sure no one is watching me as I skim the first few pages. A dominant and submissive are taking part in lots of naughty scenes, and it’s far more erotic than I thought, and also tender—at least after. The book has been opened a lot to a later chapter, and it doesn’t take me long to see what he was reading.

“Count them for me.”

The first spanking surprises me, and I yelp before I can count. “One, sir.” The second and third come in rapid succession. I squeak out the numbers as his hand connects for a fourth time. “Four, sir. Thank you, sir.”

There’s more. A lot more. I drop the book, blushing. They make it seem so normal in their everyday lives. This one was a punishment for the girl, the submissive, masturbating when she was apparently not allowed to without his permission. The spanking was hot, or I wouldn’t be so turned on. I hope he can’t smell me, my arousal, when I find him. If I sit down anywhere, I’ll probably leave a wet mark behind.

Having checked all the rooms on the first floor, I carefully climb my way to the second. I near the office across from the bedrooms Kodiche had shown me earlier, and the door is slightly ajar. Nudging it open with my hip, I peek around the corner. He’s here, and—Oh, fuck! I . . . I can’t . . .

Leaning back in an office chair, Kodiche has his hand inside his open pants, fingers stroking himself. He’s jerking off. I know I shouldn’t watch, but I just can’t look away. His cock is red at the tip, getting more so as he strokes, and it’s even hotter watching him than reading that scene in the book. Is that what got him so hard, reading that erotica? What is he thinking about? The book? Me?

Squeaking in surprise at that thought, I step back toward the hall. His eyes open and land on me, lips curling into a snarl. There’s surprise in his stare at first, but it melts away into pure hunger. Even with my relative inexperience, I know that look.

“You better not drop my coffee, Vivian.” His voice is breathy, but it’s even more demanding than this morning. “You do remember the last time you spilled coffee, right?” His fingers slide up and down the thick, jutting length in time with his words, and I can see the pre-come beading up from here. He has no modesty, and with a body like that he doesn’t need to.

I set his coffee down on the desk, earning me a questioning glance. “Come over here, Vivian.” The way he says my name . . . It’s too intimate. Too close.

Even though I’m worried that this is going too fast, I walk around the desk until I’m in front of him in the naughty secretary clothes he picked out for me to wear. In silent offering, he spreads his legs, bringing me into his space. “Kneel.” It’s a husky whisper, barely there, but I drop to the carpet as if it were a barked command.

“Good girl.”

Breath catching pleasure spikes through my pussy at his praise. It’s intoxicating to be looked at with that much need.

“You want to be my good girl and listen to all I ask of you, don’t you, Vivian?” He releases his cock and reaches up to flick open the top buttons on my blouse. “You look so fucking hot in this.”

I eye his cock, still wondering what he was picturing as he jerked off. “Do you need help, Mr. Lamant?”

“Kodiche,” he corrects. “Actually, I think if you’re going to kneel, you can call me ‘sir,’ as long as you’re behaving.”

“Do you need help . . . sir?” It is hard to say, but the way his cock swells even more is enough to make me want to say it again and again.

“Suck me. You know how, right?”

Nodding, I lick my lips and crawl forward until I can smell the musk of his skin, feel the body heat he exudes. “Yes, sir.”

He moans before I can even touch my tongue to the head. Lapping, I taste the salty sweet fluid and look up at him as it trails from his tip to my tongue. “Mmm. That’s right. Look at me with those pretty eyes as I use your mouth. Open up for me, Vivian.” Clenching fingers tighten in my hair, guiding me down as his cock slips past my lips. Hot, so hard, I try to breathe through my nose as he pushes deeper. Before I can gag, Kodiche pulls me back, letting me breathe before thrusting back in.

He doesn’t give me more than I can take, and for that I’m grateful, but he’s not gentle, not at all. Snarling as he thrusts, I can feel strands of my hair pulling as he fucks my mouth. I love seeing what I am doing to him, how undone he’s becoming. If this is the worst of what I have to do for seven days, I can live with this. I can get on my knees and give blowjobs.

“Don’t you drift away on me, Vivian.” Releasing his grip on my head, Kodiche leans back further, and he reaches into his slacks to hold the base of his cock. “I wish you could see how pretty you look as you suck my dick. The only thing better would be if we were at the office and you were doing this in front of the windows where anyone outside could look up and see. Or maybe I could lean you up against the glass and fuck you. I bet you’d love that. The cold glass making your nipples hard as I thrust into you. I remember how wet you were this morning when I ordered you to put on those clothes. You’re mine, Vivian.”

I hum at him in response, not wanting to stop my rhythm. He’s pumping in time with each movement I make, and I know he has to be close. The small jabs he’s making aren’t even real thrusts at this point. There were days early in my employment for him that I fantasized about this, of bringing in coffee and offering him a different sort of distraction on his break.

Those eyes of his, though . . . They’re more than I ever dreamed of. Seeing him devour me with those dark eyes, I know I’ll never get this out of my head. Late at night, ten years from now, I’ll still be picturing myself on my knees beside his desk and sucking his cock while he looks at me with such awe.

“That’s right. Fuck! Take it all, Vivian. Swallow it all down,” he barks as he starts to come. I gag, choking on the fluid as it lands on the back of my tongue, but his hands hold me down, giving me no option but to swallow. It gets easier as the pulses slow to dribbles, and he finally pulls out, leaving me gasping.

“Lick me clean.”

His cock hardly softens and I lap at the escaping semen until he’s only shiny from my saliva. I drop back onto my heels, sitting up as I await his next command. When he tells me I can put his dick away, I have to bite back my first thought: “I have to put my toys away without even playing with them first?”

This whole boss power struggle is all about him and what he wants. I’m getting my job out of it, I hope. He does have a nice cock at least.

Despite having just had my mouth on him, it seems weird to have my fingers tucking his dick back inside his slacks and underwear. There’s something far more close about it, more intimate.

He senses it too, or at least can read my face, and he stands quickly, zipping the rest of the way. “You can go make us dinner now. I’m going to finish up some tasks here and then I’ll join you. After, you can go to bed in the room next to mine. You’ve done well so far.”

Maybe it was his tone, or the self-satisfied smile he wore as he picked up his coffee and took a sip. I’m not certain which set off my temper. “I can go to bed?” I mimic his emphasis as I carefully stand up. It’d be way too easy to sprain my ankle in these death trap shoes. “How gracious of you to allow me to run around in this slutty outfit and make you dinner before going to sleep. Should I thank you for the air I breathe?”

Then he looks at me, and I know I've fucked up.