I am doing temp work as a secretary in a small office. One lunchtime, everyone else chose to have their lunch at 12, leaving just me to take my break at 1. It was warm and sunny outside, so they quickly left the office to buy lunch and then probably to sit on the picnic benches in the garden area that was shared with the other nearby offices. That hour was passing very slowly - the phone didn't ring, no emails came in and I'd already completed most of my tasks for the day. My thoughts began to wander, returning to what had been a recurrent fantasy since I'd started working here almost two weeks ago.

You didn't stand out much when I was first introduced to you, my boss interrupting you in the middle of concentrating on the computer code that you were dissecting. But later that morning, you'd rolled your shirt sleeves up and I noticed your arms, strong thick arms like those of a rugby player, unusual for a guy who worked in IT. And then I'd seen you take off your glasses and been able to fully appreciate your dark eyes as you came over to talk to me about a pile of papers that needed filing. You looked very different without the glasses, even more attractive, like Clark Kent taking off his glasses and becoming a superhero. Over the time I'd worked there, you'd always been friendly and we'd had brief conversations about previous careers, photography, nature documentaries, politics, hobbies and other diverse and interesting topics. Many times, when you were absorbed in your work, I'd glanced up at you and wondered how it would feel to be pinned down by your strong arms, completely at your mercy, feeling your penetrating eyes taking in my whole body.

As my thoughts wander in the empty office, I become wet and desperate. My hand moves down to my clit, rubbing it gently through my skirt. I imagine you kissing me, claiming my mouth with yours, forcing your tongue into me, before your mouth moves down to suck and gently bite my nipples. I shift slightly in my seat so that I can move my hand under my skirt, continuing to stroke my clit through my knickers and tights. I can easily see the front door from my desk, and the desk has a solid front, so I'm not really worrying about anyone catching me, but doing this in a public place still creates an exciting thrill. I lose myself in a fantasy and soon I feel a small orgasm wash over me.

Suddenly I hear someone clearing their throat behind me and my heart leaps. I quickly move my hand and turn to see you standing behind me, your dark eyes staring right at me. Flustered, I squeak "Hello," trying to sound normal and hoping that you somehow didn't notice. You must have come in through a side door without me noticing, and I wonder how long you have been standing there, silently watching me. You move closer to me, now towering over me in my seat. My eyes are wide with apprehension as I look up at you.

"I saw what you were doing," you say, in a stern voice that makes my heart thump even harder.

"I... um... I thought... Everyone was at lunch..." I stammer.

"This wouldn't look good for you if other people were to find out, would it?"

"No," I reply, looking down and trying to hold back the tears that are pricking at my eyes.

"So maybe we can come to some arrangement. Book out the meeting room at 2 and meet me there."

Without further discussion, you walk out of the room. I book the meeting room out for an 'IT meeting' and spend the next half hour miserably regretting my actions before everyone else returns from lunch. Then I spend my hour lunch break wandering aimlessly around the nearby park, trying in vain to distract myself from the fears of what this could mean for me. If you told other people, not only would it be incredibly embarrassing, but I'd lose this job and probably any chance of future work with this agency. But what did you mean by 'some arrangement'? I guess I'll find out soon enough.

At 2 o'clock, I make my way to the meeting room and see you sitting on a chair waiting for me. As I enter, you tell me to lock the door behind me and to pull down the blind on the door. You gesture to a chair and tell me to sit down, but then continue, "No, kneel," pointing to a spot on the floor next to your chair. I hesitate and you stare at me expectantly. "You need to understand your place with me from the beginning. So you can either kneel, or you can walk back out of that door and I will have to tell someone about what I saw at lunchtime."

Reluctantly, I kneel beside your chair and you continue to explain the agreement that you are offering. "You will be my slave. You will do exactly what I tell you and I will do exactly what I like to you. In return, I will keep your dirty little secret and you will keep your job and your reputation. Do you understand?" I nod. "No, tell me," you continue. "Tell me that you understand."

"I understand," I say quietly.

"You will call me Sir when we are alone. Try again."

"I understand, Sir."

"And do you accept this agreement?"

I pause. This is almost what I fantasised about. But that was just fantasy. Can I really do this in reality? What if you want to hurt me? What if I want you to hurt me? I shouldn't want that, but maybe I do. And I need this job.

"Yes, Sir," I reply.

"Good," you say. "Then I think it is time I begin to explore what my new slut has to offer me. Stand up and take off your blouse and skirt." I glance at the door and then back at you, sitting back in your chair staring at me with an expectant look. Slowly, I begin to undo the buttons on my blouse, then remove it and place it over the back of a chair. Your expression remains passive, giving away nothing of your thoughts, as I slide my skirt down over my hips and let it fall to the floor. "Take off the tights too. From now on, you will only wear stockings or hold-ups to work." I remove my tights and place them, and my skirt, on the back of the chair. You gesture for me to turn around. I feel so exposed, displaying my body to you like this, and yet I can feel myself becoming aroused. Then you stand up, pull me towards you and kiss me, softly at first and then becoming more forceful. I cannot help responding.

"So tell me, my slut, what were you thinking about while you masturbated?"

I blush, reluctant to admit my fantasies. But there is something about the way you look at me that demands honesty and I find myself unable to lie to you. "I was thinking about you."

"Interesting..." you reply, smiling. "Were you thinking about me dominating you?"

I nod. "Yes."

Your voice becomes sterner. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, Sir," I reply quickly.

"If you forget again, I will punish you," you tell me, watching as my eyes widen in a mixture of fear and arousal.

You order me to take off my bra and knickers. I comply and stand before you, naked. Your fingers stroke my breasts, brushing over my nipples. Then you roughly grab my breast in your hand, watching the surprise that is evident in my eyes as I look up at you. As you pinch my nipple, the surprise turns to pain, fear and arousal. It hurts, I feel vulnerable and exposed, and yet it excites me. You could do anything you want to me. And the hard bulge in your trousers that is pressing against my leg tells me that you want to do things to me. You want me as much as I want you. The thrill of that thought helps to balance out the pain in my nipple as you pinch harder, making me emit a soft squeak.

"Did that hurt?" you ask.

"Yes," I reply, nodding.

"Yes, what?"

I bite my lip, remembering your earlier warning. "Yes, Sir,"

"Bend over the table," you command.

I turn to face the table, bending over to rest my upper body on the cool smooth surface, and sense you moving behind me. As your hand lands on my arse, I shriek in surprise. Your hand comes down onto my arse again and again, your spanks growing harder. I've been spanked in play before, but never this hard. Your hand feels solid and unrelenting and I can feel my arse becoming red and hot. I'm not sure if I want to move away from your hand or towards it, not that I have much choice, being pressed up against the table. Your hand moves to my pussy and you push a finger inside. "You're soaked, my slut. You're enjoying this."

Then you move away, ordering me to stay still. I watch as you walk over to the sockets on the wall opposite me and begin assessing the cables that are plugged in. You pull out an Ethernet cable, fold over a loop and test it on your palm, watching my eyes betraying my fear and seeing my breathing becoming quicker and shallower. And yet I do not move. This is no longer about keeping my job. This is about having the chance to experience my fantasies, challenging myself to find out what I can endure... and what I enjoy. This is about pleasing you, showing you how much I can endure for you.

You are behind me again now, your hand gently stroking my head, calming me in the way that you might soothe a frightened animal. You plant a few soft kisses on the side of my face and down my neck, waiting until my breathing begins to return to something closer to normal. "This may hurt," you warn me, "I want you to use the traffic light colours when I ask you how it feels. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good girl."

I am surprised by how much this simple praise affects me and how much I want to please you.

Lost in this thought, I am unprepared when the cable strikes my arse and I cry out. Luckily, the board room is fairly soundproof, so you know that there is little risk of alerting our colleagues to the nature of this afternoon's 'meeting'. "Colour?" you ask. I reply with 'green' and you land a few sharp blows in quick succession. It stings, but at the same time I can feel my pussy becoming even wetter with each blow.

"Green," I squeak, and you continue. As the stripes cross over each other and your blows become harder, I begin to wriggle, trying to escape the pain. "Yellow," I squeak, and you stop. Your hands gently caress my bright red arse, soothing the pain and making me relax. As your hand rubs up over my pussy, my legs move apart automatically, and your finger comes to rest on my clit. You rub in small gentle strokes as I whimper in pleasure, but you stop too soon and order me to kneel.

I turn to face you, keeling in front of you, and find that you have undone your trousers and pulled out your hard cock. As you push it towards me, my lips open instinctively, taking it into my mouth. I move up and down your shaft, moving my tongue beneath you, then pull back slightly to lick the tip, swirling my tongue around the head before shifting to take you deep into my mouth. But, not deep enough. You hold the back of my head and gently push your cock deeper, stopping when you feel my gag reflex beginning to kick in. I am unable to take the full length of your cock into my mouth and, as you allow me to set the pace for a while, my mind drifts to how it will feel to have your long, thick cock filling my pussy. Your moans of pleasure bring me back to the present moment and I concentrate on trying to stimulate your cock as much as possible with my tongue, taking you into my mouth as deeply as I can. You pull your cock out of my mouth and hold it against my chest as you cum, groaning in satisfaction.

As you hand me your handkerchief to clean myself up, you remind me of my position. "You are kneeling on the floor in front of me, naked, wiping my cum off your breasts. You're my slut, now. Mine. I am going to do bad things you to... and you're going to enjoy them."

"Yes, Sir," I reply, unable to deny how much I want this and how much I have got off on being used by you.

"Now," you continue, "you haven't cum yet, but I'm going to make you do the work. Sit on that chair and show me how you were playing with your clit earlier."

You pull out a chair, turning it to face yours, and sit back, ordering me to spread my legs wider. As I begin to rub my clit, I watch your eyes moving up and down between my hand and my exposed pussy and my eyes, betraying my mixture of shame and arousal at having you watch me. You begin describing some of the other things you want to do to me - how you will fuck my arse, how you will force me to take the whole length of your cock into my mouth, how you will tie me up and make me completely helpless, how you will use my body for your pleasure, how you will punish me when needed and train me to be your good little slut. Your descriptions, such a good match with my fantasies, help me to reach a powerful orgasm. Without giving me any time to recover, you thrust two fingers into my pussy, feeling it spasm around your hand. The additional stimulation sets off another wave of orgasm.

As I recover from my orgasm, you hold me against your chest, telling me how much I have pleased you. Then you order me to get dressed and go to the bathroom to make myself presentable before returning to my desk.

When I return to my desk, I glance over at you and you look up. Only your slight smile betrays that anything out of the ordinary has just passed between us. You email me to request another meeting the following day, this time at 4.30. I have to force myself to concentrate on the afternoon's tasks, trying to ignore the reminder of the bruises on my arse every time I shift in my seat and trying not to think of what you might do to me next...