The office was quiet.
Too quiet.
Everyone had gone home. Except Janelle… and her boss.
Mirabel.
Janelle didn't know why she stayed. She could've left hours ago.
But something about the way Mirabel stared at her all day, like a predator waiting for its prey to get tired of running, kept her rooted in her seat. Legs closed. Hands shaking.
She felt it.
The tension.
The heat.
The inevitable.
Then came the sound.
Click.
Her door locked.
Slow steps.
The sharp scent of desire.
Mirabel didn't say a word.
She just walked. Around the desk.
Until Janelle was trapped between leather and lust.
"You let him give you coffee," Mirabel said finally, brushing a strand of hair behind Janelle's ear.
"I didn't "
"You let him."
She leaned in. "You made him think he had a chance."
"No, I "
"Shh," Mirabel hissed, her fingers already sliding down Janelle's jaw, pausing at her throat. "I don't care what you meant. All I care about is what I'm about to do."
Janelle whimpered.
"Stand up."
She did.
"On the desk."
Her eyes widened.
"Now."
She hesitated, just for a second
And that second cost her.
Mirabel grabbed her waist, turned her around, and bent her over. Her cheek pressed flat against cold wood, her heart thundered.
"You like pretending to be good, don't you?" Mirabel whispered against her ear. "But I see how wet you get when I scold you."
A whimper. Her thighs squeezed.
"Keep them open," Mirabel ordered, hand trailing up Janelle's skirt. "You're going to learn who you belong to."
And then
The first slap.
Not on her cheek.
But lower.
Hot. Sharp. Wet.
Janelle moaned.
"Count," Mirabel commanded.
"O-One…"
Another.
"Two…"
Again.
"Three…"
By the fifth, she was shaking.
"Say it," Mirabel growled. "Say you belong to me."
Janelle gasped, lips parted, body trembling.
"I… I belong to you…"
"You'll scream it before I'm done," she promised. "And tomorrow? You won't be able to sit at that desk without remembering this moment."
And Janelle knew…
She wasn't just falling.
She was ruined.
---
To be continued