‘I’m fine, hon, really,’ he said, submitting to the kiss on the forehead she used to test his temperature. ‘I just – it was hot in the office today. I’ve been sweating.’ That was true. He had been sweating through his meetings that afternoon.
‘Phew, sorry, hon, yeah,’ she said, laughing and pulling away. ‘You need a shower.’
‘Yeah, ha, sorry,’ he said, a little wanly. ‘I’m so beat though, I might just flake out on the couch.’
‘Well, OK, Mr Stinky,’ she teased. She moved to grab a hoodie and a yoga mat. His heartbeat started to return to normal. ‘I’ll be back around eight thirty or so.’ She grabbed her keys. Then –
‘Hey! You never gave me a kiss when you came in.’ His heart-rate immediately skyrocketed as she reached up to him for a little peck. She pressed closed lips firmly against his. One hand on his cheek, she pulled away and began brushing the side of his face with her thumb. ‘You got a little something on your lip here, hon.’
He opened his mouth. But only a strangled little sound came out.
‘What were you eating, a doughnut or something?’ He almost passed out as she licked her thumb and wiped again.
As she walked out the door she called back over her shoulder, ‘See you in a bit! And darling, you really should rethink that shower. You smell a little funky.’
* * *
Just before 8.30 p.m. he sat unseeingly staring at some mindless TV show. He couldn’t help but intermittently and without thinking press down on his half-hard dick just to give it some sensation, something to combat – or perhaps spur on, he wasn’t sure – all of the longing he felt in his groin. Then his phone, set on silent and sitting on the end table, lit up. He flicked a glance at the screen. And his stomach lurched into his throat.
It was an email.
It was her.
He grabbed his phone, eyes darting around instinctively.
I HOPE YOU’RE HAVING A NICE EVENING! he started reading. He looked at the clock. His wife would be home any minute. He read on. AND THAT YOU’VE BEEN A GOOD LITTLE BOY AND BORNE YOUR PUNISHMENT. ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO YOUR SHOWER IN THE MORNING? JUST TO GET CLEANED UP? OR IS THERE SOMETHING ELSE? BECAUSE I CAN TELL, YOU’RE A LITTLE SHOWER WANKER, AREN’T YOU? WELL, YOU’RE A LITTLE WANKER FULL STOP. ARE YOU BEATING IT RIGHT NOW, LOVE? He looked down at his hand on his groin. Blushed. OR ARE YOU WAITING UNTIL TOMORROW? MAYBE BOTH!
WELL, YOU RUB IT IN THE SHOWER IF YOU WANT, SWEETIE. BUT REALLY, TRY AND HOLD BACK THIS TIME, OK? AND IF IT ONLY TAKES YOU TWO MINUTES AGAIN, LIKE THE PATHETIC DISPLAY I SAW TODAY, THEN IT WOULD SEEM YOU HAVE A LITTLE PROBLEM. DO YOU, LITTLE BOY? BECAUSE I KNOW TWO WORDS THAT WOULD DESCRIBE WHAT I SAW IN MY OFFICE TODAY, ONE THAT STARTS WITH P AND THE OTHER WITH E
There was more. Dear lord, it went on. But he heard the front door open just then, his wife’s footsteps coming into the foyer. Quickly he clicked off his phone as she walked into the room.
‘Hon, you’re absolutely beet red!’ she gasped when she saw him. ‘You’re sick. I knew it!’ She put her things down and came over to feel his face. ‘Yes, hot, hot, hot.’ She clicked off the TV. ‘Up you go and get some sleep! If you don’t rest up you’ll be no good for work tomorrow.’
He read the rest of her email in bed, listening to his wife bustle around downstairs, one hand holding his phone, the other holding his rock-hard shaft. He couldn’t even wait until tomorrow morning in the shower. He tried to hold back, like she said, but his mind was abuzz, his body felt greedy. Even as he tried to deny the truth of what she was saying, his body betrayed him. He didn’t even get to the end of her email before his demanding cock was spent.
She had instructions. Instructions for what to do if he wanted help for his, his problem.
It started with arriving at her office the next morning.
Chapter 3
As instructed, he knelt on the floor of her office in front of her. At her feet.
He’d barely caught a glimpse of her before he prostrated himself. His position did, though, afford him the ability to look closely at her choice of footwear. Heels again. Perhaps she always wore heels to work. Today they were a houndstooth pattern with black spiked heels, again open-toed, with a little black bow across the top, underlining the very small opening. God, the way he could see just the tiniest bit of two toes drove him crazy! He imagined himself on his hands and knees, cramming his tongue into that tiny space. His cock shifted in his trousers.
She pulled out a box from her desk drawer. It was about the size of his fist and it was gift-wrapped. Automatically he reached up to take it but she pulled it back a little
‘Ah, ah, ahh,’ she said. ‘Not quite so fast. If you read my email thoroughly, I believe you have something to say first?’
Suddenly it was hard to breathe. It was hot. He knew what he had to say, what she wanted him to say. And yet it seemed impossible to say it. He could barely form the words in his mind, much less have them pass over his lips.
‘Aw, are you having a hard time, love?’ she said. ‘How about I help you along. Why are you here?’
He swallowed. ‘You, um, said you would help me.’
‘I did say that, yes. And now, what is it again you need help with?’
Oh, God. She knew what. He knew what. He knew she knew. Why was she making him say it?
‘I uh, I sometimes have a little trouble … lasting.’ He paused. ‘You know, sexually.’
She stared at him a moment. Blinked. ‘Sweetie, I hope you’re not intentionally being obtuse. Or maybe you just didn’t read my email carefully enough. Which is also disappointing because I put a lot of care into my correspondence and I expect close attention to the details in return. If you want me to work with you on fixing this then I am going to need more willing cooperation going forward. Do we understand each other?’
His pulse was racing. Was she chastising him? She was. He was at her feet, she was lecturing him, his heart was slamming in his chest and it was making his cock so hard. His brain was a jumble. Fuck.
‘Yes. Yes, I think so.’
She sighed. ‘No, I don’t think so. That answer alone proves otherwise.’ She walked over to her desk, put the gift-wrapped box on top of it and turned to him, crossing her arms delicately over her ample chest. ‘I am going to help you out and remind you of a few things this time, because I understand that you are learning. But for next time just keep in mind that I am not normally so lenient.’ She paused and walked back over to where he knelt. ‘You are to address me as Mistress or Miss or Ma’am.’
He did remember that. Her use of those words combined with how she addressed him – sweetie, love – could not help but call to mind the portion of her presentation that he knew she would be doing this very afternoon at X Architects on how the use of diminutive names in a workplace setting can offend or humiliate an employee. Did he feel offended? Definitely not. Humiliated? Yes. God, yes. In the best way, yes.
However, when he first heard what she wanted him to call her he just felt ridiculous actually saying it. But now there were her eyes. One look into the depths of those fiery, dazzling eyes and somehow it seemed anything but ridiculous. Somehow it seemed totally and completely right.
‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘Better. Now I told you specifically what words to use to describe your problem.’ A beat. ‘Didn’t I?’
He looked down. ‘Yes, Mistress.’
‘Look