Collared by the CEO

The Office Tease

Amelia

Weeks passed in a blur of pleasure and submission.

I learned to navigate two worlds the professional assistant who answered phones and scheduled meetings with practiced efficiency, and the collared submissive who knelt at her Master's feet each night. The collar never left my throat. In public, colleagues admired it as an expensive accessory. Only Alexander and I knew what it truly meant.

This morning, he'd handed me something before I left for my desk.

"Wear this."

A small plug, sleek and black, with a remote control he'd pocketed with a smile that made my stomach flip. I'd inserted it in the bathroom, my fingers trembling, my body already responding. All day, it vibrated at random intervals a ghost of sensation that kept me perpetually on edge.

Now, seated in the boardroom for the quarterly review, I was fighting for composure.

Alexander sat at the head of the table, commanding as always. His gray eyes swept the room periodically, lingering on me just long enough to make my breath catch. In his hand, casually displayed, was his phone.

He pressed a button.

The plug surged to life inside me. I bit my lip hard, gripping my pen until my knuckles went white. The vibration was intense, perfectly calibrated to bring me to the brink without pushing me over.

"Ms. Hart, do you have the projections for Q3?"

I blinked. The CFO was staring at me expectantly. Around the table, a dozen faces waited.

"Yes, of course." My voice wavered slightly. I shuffled papers, grateful for the distraction. "Q3 projections show a twelve percent increase in—"

Another surge. Harder this time.

"—in revenue, with notable growth in the Asian markets—"

I could feel sweat beading at my temples. My thighs clenched together beneath the table, a futile attempt to control the sensations building inside me. Alexander watched me with cold satisfaction, his expression utterly neutral.

"—and the acquisition of Meridian Technologies should close by—"

He increased the intensity again. My handwriting shook. I set down my pen before anyone could notice.

"—by the end of the fiscal year."

"Thank you, Ms. Hart." Alexander's voice was smooth, professional. "Your thoroughness is, as always, appreciated."

The meeting continued for another forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes of exquisite torture. He brought me to the edge repeatedly, only to pull back at the last possible moment. By the time the final agenda item was discussed, I was trembling visibly, my blouse damp with sweat, my panties soaked through.

"The meeting adjourned," Alexander announced. "Ms. Hart, please stay behind. We need to discuss the Meridian acquisition in more detail."

The others filed out, oblivious. The moment the door clicked shut, Alexander was on his feet.

"Come here."

I rose on shaking legs and crossed to him. He didn't wait, just grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his private office, locking the door behind us. I could feel it, it was about to happen.

"Bend over the desk."

I obeyed. He flipped up my skirt, yanked down my ruined panties, and pulled the plug from my body with a wet sound that made me moan.

"You held it together well," he murmured, positioning himself behind me. "I'm impressed. But now—"

He thrust inside me without warning.

I screamed, but his hand clamped over my mouth, muffling the sound. He f****d me hard and fast, each stroke claiming, possessing. His other hand found my throat, fingers pressing against the collar.

"You're mine," he growled. "Say it."

I couldn't his hand covered my mouth but he didn't need words. My body said everything. I came undone around him, screaming his name into his palm, my orgasm ripping through me like wildfire.

He followed moments later, filling me with hot c*m, his hips jerking against my ass.

"Good girl," he breathed. "Such a good girl."

When he finally pulled out, I sagged against the desk, utterly spent. He straightened my clothes, tucked himself away, and pressed a kiss to my shoulder. What did that even mean? Was this my new reality?

"Back to work."

I returned to my desk with his seed dripping down my thigh. For the rest of the day, I couldn't concentrate. Every time I shifted in my chair, I felt the evidence of what we'd done. Every time I touched the collar at my throat, I remembered his fingers there.

That night, he had a surprise.

The blindfold was silk, tied securely over my eyes. He led me through the penthouse I recognized the turns, the sound of the playroom door sliding open. The air changed, cooler and tinged with leather.

"Kneel."

I knelt on the familiar velvet cushion. He bound my wrists to the St. Andrew's cross, my arms stretched above my head, my body exposed and vulnerable.

Then the flogger came down across my breasts.

I gasped, arching into the pain. He struck again my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. Each blow left a trail of fire that bloomed into pleasure. By the time he moved to my ass, I was sobbing with need, my thighs slick, my body desperate.

"Please," I begged. "Please, I need—"

"Need what?"

"You. Please. I need you inside me."

He didn't make me wait. He f****d me raw against the cross, his hips slamming against my bruised flesh, his hands gripping my waist. I came once. Twice. Three times, each orgasm more shattering than the last.

When he finally allowed me to sleep, I was a trembling, ruined mess. He carried me to his bed and held me close, his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek.

I woke to find a note on my pillow.

Tonight, you will attend a charity gala with me. You will wear what I provide. You will obey.

My body was thrilled with anticipation. I didn't know what awaited me what he would do, who would see, what I would become. But beneath the fear, beneath the uncertainty, I was desperate for it.

I was his. Completely, irrevocably his.

And I didn't want to be anything else.