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Nicole dominates him for the first time.

this:

3.30p.m. I pull my silk pants over my freshly showered bottom, shivering with anticipation and excitement as I languorously don the heels and whatever outfit you've decided upon. Carefully apply make-up and a subtle perfume, nothing too blatant, God I feel sexy. Oops, nearly forgot the strap. Reverently I take it from your drawer and put it in my handbag along with the scarf.

3.45p.m. I get in an Uber, careful not to accidentally flash my stocking tops. On the short drive to the office my excitement mounts, my cheeks (on my face!) are flushed.

4.00p.m. I place the strap and the scarf on the table as instructed and adopt the prescribed position, bent forward over the conference table. Gripping the sides, pert bottom thrust up into prominence, ready and waiting, very obedient and perfectly still.

4.05p.m. You haven't yet arrived. My body's perspiring lightly, heart beating; silk panties damp from the moisture between my legs. I want so much to slip my hand into my knickers and stroke my sex while thinking of you, but I'm a compliant and fearful girl and so will not move.

4.10p.m. You're late, you rotter - it's so frustrating. The silence is oppressive. I hear people in the street outside talking and laughing, doors shutting, dogs barking. A shiver runs through my body every time I hear footsteps.

My palms ache from holding the table; my ramrod-straight legs are tired. I worry you aren't coming after all. I'm beginning to feel upset and foolish. Please don't stand me up and tarnish my dream.

4.15 p.m. You finally deign to make an appearance. I can't see you, but instinctively know you're there, recognize the sounds of your key in the door and your footsteps; sense your unspeaking presence behind me. You run your palm over the swell of my bottom, lingering lightly there. Trembling at your touch, my knees go weak, I moan involuntarily. Oh how I want your hand between my legs to take the ache away.

You take my wrists and bind them with the scarf, next you unhurriedly force my feet a further apart until they're just so. Another groan escapes me. I can't help it; I'm scared but desperate for my chastisement to begin.

You raise my skirt up to my waist. I know what to expect. Your caress the firm swell of my bottom through my flimsy panties, touching the flesh where posterior meets thigh. Your palm slaps down hard against my right cheek, then the left, building a steady cadence, making my skin sting and burn.

When my little sighs start to become longer moans, you stop. All my senses alert, I'm receptive to the slightest touch, you smoothly draw my panties down over my hips and reddened, throbbing cheeks to my ankles and off. I know you're enjoying the view. I need to touch myself but can't, my wrists are tied, I wiggle my heated bottom, wantonly, trying to grind the table against my pussy. It must look very lewd, my hot red buttocks framed by stocking tops and suspenders, writhing with such obvious intent. You notice such details, know me, understand what I need.

I feel cool leather against my skin, whimper submissively and push my bottom right out. I plead unashamedly: please caress me there, right where my wetness glistens for you, please. Calmly observing my arousal your, fingers briefly explorr my aching clit. I feel a trickle of moisture and then they're gone, leaving my cunt abandoned. You tell me I'm lascivious, greedy and impatient, that girls like me need firm discipline to keep their emotions in check. Voice distorted with lust I fervently agree, raising my buttocks from the table as far as I can to please you.

Your hand is on my waist now, steadying me for what is to follow; I let out another whimper.

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