The body suit you wear isn’t see through, but its lacy fabric lets the little details peak through. It’s black with white frills. If one were generous, it could be called a uniform. But it’s closer to a reminder; the very idea of your submission made manifest and pressed against your skin. You cannot help but feel this as you bring my coffee up from the kitchen. Even ascending the stairs with no one watching, you feel exposed, and it only gets worse as you enter my office. I look up from my desk as you cross the threshold, making a little ember of excitement kindle between your thighs. It gets hotter and more insistent as you approach. My eyes roll up and down your body, seeking out the glimpses of your breasts and your vulva that make it through the lace of your uniform. By the time you place the coffee on my desk the heat from your pussy is steady and desperate.

I take my first sip. The look of surprise and disappointment is only on my face for a second, but still sends a spike of icy fear through your heart. You realize the coffee has gone cold. You expect anger at your failure, but my voice is calm, even sympathetic as I order “Hands behind your back, pretty girl.” The little flame between your thighs becomes still more insistent, and your body moves automatically at my command. I make you stand like that, arms folded and imagined punishments racing through your mind, as I make a few last notes and put away the file I was using. Then I lean back in my chair, let my eyes flow over your chest and your hips. It would be better if you were naked, then at least you could know what I see and guess at what torment I might inflict, but as it is the lace keeps you from even that comforting certainty. “You had three tasks today pretty girl.” I say before asking in a gentle voice “do you remember what they were?”

“I… um… they were… uh… I…” You try to answer but your thoughts are lost between the hot, urgent thrum of your pussy and the unsteady gallop of your heart. All you can do is tremble and stammer as I look you over. After a few seconds, maybe half a minute, that feel like an eternity I get up from my chair. “I understand the problem.” I declare, coming around the desk. My fingers just touch the skin at the base of your neck; they flow down your spine to the small of your back. You feel my hand cradle and then grope the flesh of your ass while I tell you that “My needy little slave is too horny to think. Is that what’s wrong pretty girl?”

You can’t deny it. The searing throb of your pussy burns any thoughts to ash before they can even form. All you can do is nod as my hands explore your body. “That can be solved.” I explain with only a hint of a wicked smile on my lips. “But first we have to make sure that my slave understands her duties and her place.” I think for a moment, while long slow caresses from my fingers tease your vulva through thin fabric. “I’ll give you clear, simple instructions.” I decide, then command you to “Fetch the strap, pretty girl. And carry it with both hands and present it to me while kneeling. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You half blurt and half gasp. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

I give you an encouraging tap on the buttocks and watch as you leave the room. You find the paddle quickly and return, carrying it ceremoniously: balanced on the palms of your up turned hands. Once again, I watch you enter, half smiling as you sink to your knees before me. You don’t speak but beg to be punished by bowing your head and lifting the strap towards me like a sacred offering. Looking down, you can only see your own thighs, but the feeling of air against your palms tells you I have accepted your offering.

Without warning I grab you by the hair and pull you to your feet. You have barely enough time to yelp in pain and surprise before I bend you to the desk with a soft touch and irresistible strength. I touch the strap to your ass, gently, just to let you feel the cool, flexible leather as I explain that “I am going to spank you. And I won’t stop until you have properly apologized for each task you failed to complete. Do you understand, pretty girl?”

You swallow hard, helpless and bent over the desk, completely at my mercy. You have no choice but to answer “Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

“Good girl.” I say, gathering your wrists at the small of your back.

The first blow of the strap falls, leaving a bright, painful sting across your ass. I tower over you, watching your skin tint a livid pink. The pain gets more intense as I strike again and again and again, each impact pushing you closer to the limit. You whimper and squirm, trying to remember the tasks I gave you and struggling to break free. It’s no good. I am easily strong enough to hold you in place, and it’s impossible to think through the pain of the spanking and the fiery need of your pussy. Finally, as the agony becomes almost unbearable, a single word pops loose in your mind. “Laundry” You blurt. “I’m sorry I forgot the laundry.”

The apology is enough to earn you a reprieve. My slow, soothing hand running up and down the skin of your ass, dulling the pain a little. “I know, pretty girl. You try so hard to be good, and you’re taking your punishment so well, are you ready for more?”

You have to push the words past a lump in your throat. Part of you is scared of the pain, but the part that wants to be my good little servant, and the part that wants to get fucked like a whore, are stronger. You answer “Yes, sir. I’m ready, sir.”

The strikes come less frequently, but they hit lower, in the sensitive spot just above your thighs. The pain no longer stays on the surface. Instead, it flashes along neurons and across synapses. You can predict when you will feel each impact, but there’s no way to brace yourself. The pain goes deeper with each one; racing towards the core of you. A whimper rises in your chest and spills past your lips. Unbidden, they shape it into the word “Books.” You gasp, trying to think through agony and desire. “I forgot to put away the books. I’m sorry, sir.”

“You’re so good at remembering when we find the right motivation.” I give some of the praise you need so badly. You feel my hands again, moving tenderly over the spots I have just finished tormenting. “We’ll have to make sure you remember this spanking, so you won’t need another.”

Another spank falls across the top of your ass, unheralded and bright as lightning. Pain bursts through your brain like a super nova. You scream and it fades into a pathetic moan. I wait, letting the agony I have just inflicted diminish for a few seconds, but you know another strike is coming. You breathe deeply, managing the pain and trying to remember the last task you forgot. It shouldn’t be hard. You only just missed, and your failure brought on this punishment. But the dazzling pain of the strap and pulsing heat of desire make it impossible to think. I strike again, and more sharp, glittering hurt explodes through your body. I give it time to settle and fade. You are on the edge of tears, shaking as you scramble to gain control of your thoughts. In the temporary calm they reform slowly, coalescing around the world “Coffee.” You finally say. “I’m sorry I let your coffee get cold, sir.”

You don’t see anything change, but the sound of the strap falling to the carpet tells you the spanking is over. Strong hands pull you up from the desk and spin you around to face me. I strip you roughly. Yanking the fabric of your body suit away from your skin and rolling it towards the floor. Before you can register what happened, I have stripped you naked. You stand before me, fully revealed in your helplessness.

I’m slower; intentional and more gentle as I stretch you over the desk. I take a few seconds to admire the need and adoration in your eyes, the up and down arch of your breasts as you inhale. I touch a finger to your bottom lip before running my hand all the way down your body in slow, meandering arcs until its resting just on top of your clitoris. “Please.” You beg softly, your mind stripped down to its barest needs.

I don’t make you say any more. Blissful, molten pleasure floods through every nerve in your body as I press my cock into you. The bliss of being fucked gets more intense, flashes brighter each time I thrust. It flows into the deepest part of your brain like lava. Burning streams of it trickle to the tips of your toes. Your leg starts to shake. I throw it over my shoulder, lean in close to whisper “You are such a good girl, such a needy little slut.” Your trembling gets faster as my hand squeezes around your throat. “And your all fucking mine.” I tell you as an orgasm, the heat of pleasure and light of pain, bursts through your body. You quiver and cum all over my cock like a devoted servant and desperate whore.