Yet from the first moment, Emily seemed different. She had intrigued him. He allowed himself a little hope. Perhaps in her, he might find a better fit. His greatest worry was she would become like Adriana in the end and require more than he could offer. That was why he paced now, nervously checking the clock and waiting for Emily to show up.
She didn’t have to. He wouldn’t fire her for not wanting to come to his house and thus, expand their relationship. But somehow, he knew she would.
And the thought both thrilled and worried him.
He poured himself another drink, a half this time. He didn’t want to lose control. No, control was all he had left. He wondered if Emily would have trouble finding the place. He should’ve given her better directions, maybe drawn a map. He stopped, taking a deep breath. He was acting like a fool. He would need to gain control of his emotions if this was to work. She couldn’t see the vulnerable man behind the mask.
He thought of Paul. It sickened him to remember the man, but it helped steel his resolve. In the next moment, he thought of Adriana and shook his head. What a fucking mess, he thought. Get a grip!
The doorbell rang. He glanced at the clock—straight up six. He put down the drink at once and stood. Edward imagined himself back at work, in control once more and he thrust back his shoulders. Taking another deep breath, he strode to the door and opened it.
Emily stood there, looking small and frightened. She still wore her work outfit, a blouse and skirt underneath a sweater against the chill. He wondered if she had put on new panties underneath.
“Come in,” he said and stepped aside.
She scurried past him, her eyes downcast.
“Did you have trouble finding the place?” He led her into the living room where a fire crackled in the hearth.
“Yes sir, at first. But I figured it out eventually.”
That told him she had left early to arrive on time. Probably came directly from work, fearing she might be late and displease him.
“Good. Show me.”
Emily’s eyes jerked up to meet his and he stared at her. He knew what she was thinking: How would the relationship change, now that she was here, not protected by the work environment? Not that anything they had done in the office reflected a normal working relationship! But still—here she was vulnerable to anything, unless she bolted. He didn’t want her to panic. He wanted to ease her into it.
“Well?”
Her hands went to her skirt and she raised the hem. He was pleased to see she had not put on new panties. Hers were still on the corner of his desk, something for her to focus her eyes on whenever she came inside. He imagined her pussy would already be wet. He nodded, pleased. She probably hadn’t climaxed since her little transgression and now was clearly in a state.
He knew, at that moment, she fully expected to have sex with him. In fact, she probably welcomed it. She was already well on her way to become a wonderful submissive. The question that echoed in his mind, was he ready to risk becoming a real Dom again?
“Would you like a drink?”
The words startled Emily. She stared at him, her skirt still raised. Finally she nodded.
“What would you like?”
“Um, bourbon and water?”
He waved at her skirt and she let it fall. He went to the bar and fixed her a drink. When he brought it to her, she seemed enormously grateful and terrified at the same time.
“Relax. Sit,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.” Gently he put his arm around her as he led her to the couch.
She sat nervously, her body stiff as she took a quick sip and coughed. Edward tried again.
“I understand this is new. You’re my secretary and suddenly, here you are. You’re probably wondering why I told you to come.”
She stared at him. Then she lowered her eyes. “I disobeyed you.” Her voice was almost inaudible.
“Yes, you did. And you will be punished. But I don’t want you to worry too much.” He paused, and added: “Truth is, you are quite valuable to me as a secretary. I would hate for your carelessness to ruin that.”
Emily looked up, hope in her eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know why I made those mistakes.”
“I think I know. You wanted the attention. You wanted to be punished. You need that.”
She did not disagree. Why else would she make such silly mistakes? And sneaking off to the bathroom for a quick climax? She must really think she’s in for it, he mused. What would happen next would have to be done carefully. He didn’t want to scare her off, and yet he didn’t want her to think he was anything less than a masterful Dom. Someone like Paul. He closed his eyes briefly and tried to push the man’s face out of his mind.
He sipped at his drink, getting himself under control. This was not going the way he had planned it. Time to get back on track!
“Very well. Sip your drink while I explain.” She took another healthy swig, her eyes never leaving his. He sat down across from her and gathered his thoughts. “At work, you’ve ... uh, pleased me. But those mistakes you made on purpose require something extra. You need a place to be able to cry out, even beg.”
Her eyes grew wide and he nodded. “Oh yes. Did you think you’d get away with a simple spanking in light of your willfulness?”
Emily grew pale.
“Clearly it’s what you wanted. Or maybe needed,” he said, enjoying the play of emotions across her face.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered.
Edward recalled Adriana saying similar words to him, a long time ago. And he had listened and gone easy on her. He hadn’t realized she had secretly wanted to be punished severely—in fact, she needed it. The protesting was part of her submission. That didn’t mean she had wanted to be permanently marred, no. A good Dom would know exactly how far to push her—and now Edward had a good idea of what Emily was seeking.
Her inner submissive wanted to be able to let go and “fly"—oh, yes, he knew what the term meant by now. It described what a sub experiences during punishments. It required total trust between Dom and sub, for she would have to know in her heart he cared deeply for her and did not want to damage her. At the same time, she would want to experience a certain amount of fear too. It was a delicate balancing act.
“Remove your clothes,” he said.
Emily’s eyes widened for a moment and her hand shook when she put down her glass. She stood and shrugged off her sweater. Her hands went to her blouse. Her eyes remained on his as she unbuttoned it slowly, revealing her lacy bra. Edward smiled.
The blouse slipped off her shoulders and she placed it carefully over the chair. Her skirt followed and his smile broadened once more when he saw her nakedness. The bra was shrugged off and she stood there, watching him drink in her body.
“Are you wet?”
She blushed and looked away. Then she nodded imperceptibly.
“Show me.”
Her eyes returned to his. Her fingers reached between her legs and she brought them up to show him the wetness there.
“You’re excited by all this, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” she said quietly.
“Let’s see how excited you are after your punishment.”
She shook as he stood and loomed over her. He took her hand and led her into the bedroom. When she saw the whip laid out on the four-poster bed, Edward felt her resistance and he pulled her into the room. She whimpered as he pushed her over the foot of the bed, her face right next to the whip. It was a cat o’nine tails, a collection of suede strips held by a black handle. Edward watched as her eyes grew wet. He knew she was truly afraid and had not yet learned to trust him.
He patted her back to comfort her and began tying her arms to the posts at the head of the bed with long straps, pulling her hips tight against the edge of the mattress. She struggled but did not really try to get away. He returned to the end of the bed and used more leather straps to tie her ankles to the posts, stretching her legs apart and exposing that most tender of flesh.