Chapter 3

• Grabbing my foot, he pulled me back towards him. My skirt bunched up behind me, sliding towards my rear as he pulled me, leaving my pantyhose-covered crotch exposed to him. He gazed at me. His eyes seemed to revel in the surprised look on my face, the sight of my breasts heaving up and down as my breath quickened, and the tantalizing view of my exposed underwear. His hand traveled up my leg, caressing my pantyhose, exploring my thigh and moving towards my sex.
• This was not happening, I told myself. But no matter what I told myself, it continued to happen. And, despite the fact that I was scared out of my mind, I was also uncontrollably aroused. There was a little part of me, that small heart-skipping pulse in my veins, that had never fully left. Upon seeing just what Asher Landseer was capable of, that part grew, stretched, until it was all-encompassing and demanding.
• Asher smiled, watching me wriggle on the table, unable to escape him. He looped a finger into my pantyhose and peeled them down to my knees.
• “Sir!” I screamed. “Asher! What are you—?”
• This was not proper business protocol! But he didn’t seem to care much about that at the moment. He focused on me entirely, his steady, watchful gaze never leaving my eyes as I looked back at him.
• “You destroyed my book,” he said, his voice full of anger and passion. “Everything is a mess. Pages scattered on the floor and the binding undone. I believe it’s only fair that I do the same to you.”
• At the time, I had no idea what he meant. I only knew that there was a strong and powerful man standing before me who commanded attention.
• No longer fully wearing my pantyhose, my smooth, arousal-slick folds grew cool, exposed to the chill, central air-conditioned air. Asher paid that no mind, though. He flipped me around, grabbed at my skirt with one hand, unzipped the back with the other, then pulled the entire thing off of me. Tossing it to the ground, he did much the same to my heels, and then flipped me over once more.
• With one arm, he wrenched me towards him and pulled my pantyhose even lower, towards my ankles, forcing me to spread my legs so that my crotch was pressed hard against his business suit. His hands sought the buttons of my blouse, undoing them. When I tried to stop him, he frowned at me and then ripped the whole thing off. The buttons that had remained done flew into the air and scattered around his private meeting room.
• The idea struck me, some out of context thought, that I should clean those up for him, but then my mind snapped back to the reality of the situation. I was laying on his table, legs spread around his hips, wearing only my bra and partially wearing my pantyhose. A quick glance to the side showed my blouse, skirt and heels scattered on the floor, much like the loose pages of his expensive book.
• “Remove your bra,” he said.
• I hesitated. He sounded so fierce, but the look on his face was one of calm confidence, like he never expected me to defy him, never expected anything but obedience.
• “Mr. Landseer,” I said, voice wavering, coming out as more of a squeak. “You’re married.”
• “Remove your bra,” he repeated.
• I sat up enough so I could reach my hands behind my back. My stomach tightened and when I moved I felt the zipper of his pants pressing against my wet, exposed pussy. He watched me, relished in seeing me dispose of one of my last articles of clothing. I don’t know why, but once I unsnapped my bra and pulled my arms through the straps, I tossed it to the floor haphazardly, letting it join the mess with my other clothing.
• “You deserve punishment,” he said. “Do you not?”
• I nodded fast, heart quickening. Shivers from the cold passed through my body. Or, that’s what I wanted to think at the time, but his presence had me hot and flustered. There was no possible way I was cold right now with my body quivering in a heat of excitement. Here I was, some unknown women from the cleaning staff, and a temp for the day at that, almost entirely naked on billionaire CEO Asher Landseer’s private office table.
• In the blink of an eye his hand cupped my sex. His fingers pressed against my pubic mound, forcing me to acknowledge their presence, and I arched my back and let out an unintentional moan.
• “How do I punish you when you’re clearly enjoying this?” he asked. “Shall I remove this distraction first so we can begin your punishment?”
• “Sir?” I asked. My breath felt like a fog, escaping my lips and covering my face in a warm, wet haze. Everything was a blur, like I was looking through an unfocused camera lens.
• He never answered, didn’t bother to respond with his ideas. Instead, he snaked his thumb lower, spread my moist folds with his finger, and then pressed inside of me. My hips bucked upwards instinctively and I gasped, caught off guard. My fucking God, I thought, is he going to take me right here?
• And, if he did, would I let him? Would I moan for him, accept his hard erect cock inside me? Some part of me despised the idea, disliked the treatment, but only a small part. A larger part wondered at him, wanted him to take me on his meeting table. Wanted him to…
• He was married. I couldn’t, I…
• Asher’s thumb bent and he pressed against the pleasure spot inside my intimate tunnel. My body betrayed my intentions, ignored the thoughts of his wife, his marriage, and the wrongness of this, and bent to his will. He wrapped his other fingers around my pussy, treating me like just another object, something he owned. With his middle finger he teased at my clit, pushing me higher towards the precipice of pleasure.
• My eyes rolled into the back of my head and my body tightened, muscles clamping down for the long haul. There was no long term for this, though. Asher knew what he was doing, and he did it well. His fingers expertly toyed with my sex and encased my crotch. It felt so strange, so different. I was exposed to the cool, office building air, but his hand radiated a warming heat that spread from my aroused slit to the rest of my body.