Never Enough Ch. 03

Chapter Three: Benjamin - the beginning of my downfall

I'd been married to Stephen for a couple of years. We hadn't had children yet. We were living a wonderful life - working hard and partying hard. And having an incredible amount of sex.

Stephen would spank me several times a week, most of those occasions ending in sex. And some of that sex involving me being allowed to orgasm.

And I'd never been happier. I felt truly fulfilled, in a relationship with someone who made me laugh, who loved me, who enjoyed so many of the same things as me, and whose great passion was sexually dominating me.

We had such a strong connection. And I'm ashamed to say, that I nearly ruined it all by destroying the one thing which is essential in any relationship: Trust.

It all started the day my new boss started.

It was summer, and the sun filtering through the blinds had woken both of us early. I remember rolling over to Stephen and snuggling up into him, and him lifting his arm to let me in close so that I could rest my head on his chest.

He stroked my side, and kissed the top of my forehead sleepily, and we just lay there listening to the birds outside, slowly waking up.

As I often did in the mornings, I felt horny for him, and I slid my hand down to his stomach and caressed him there, enjoying the shape of his muscles, before slipping my fingers into the waistband of his pyjamas.

I loved not knowing what state I'd find him in, and this morning I found him only just starting to get hard.

I enjoyed speeding that process up by stroking his cock and his balls with my fingertips as, bit by bit, he grew bigger under my hand.

Once he was his full size, excitingly big in my hand, I began to wank him slowly, moving my body against his side and groaning as his hand moved down to my bottom.

I don't know why it turns me on so much to have my bottom touched, but it does. Especially by Stephen.

And especially when I could still feel the vestiges of the spanking he'd given me at bedtime.

Stephen is a very organised person, unlike me. And the night before, as we were about to head upstairs to bed, he asked me if I'd remembered to lock up the garden office. I have a habit of forgetting to do that.

My expression told him the answer, and so he'd shaken his head at me in disappointment, and told me to get myself upstairs and he'd be up to deal with me once he'd gone out and locked it up.

I'd scampered up the stairs, my heart racing, and got myself all ready for bed and waited for him in my shortest little nightie.

He'd come into the room, and sat on the edge of the bed next to me.

"What do I have to do to help you remember to lock up?"

I bit my lip and told him that maybe he could leave me a post it note. This was play acting really. A game.

And yet at the same time, he genuinely was fed up with me being careless about these things. So there was a tiny bit of reality about what was about to happen.

Well it didn't take long before he'd pulled me over his lap. His jeans were cool from the night air. His big hand was too, as he used it to spank my soft bare bottom.

No sex had followed the spanking. I had thanked him for helping me remember in future, and to show my gratitude, I'd taken his cock into my mouth and satisfied him.

And then I'd lain awake horny as hell in his arms, long after he'd drifted off to sleep.

So it was no surprise that I was still horny as hell that morning, and I was hoping that he would want to put that lovely big cock of his inside me before we had to get up and get ready for work.

I got my wish. But first, he'd lain there smiling at me as I did all the work, fuelled by my horniness, lying on my front across the bed as I licked and sucked his cock.

I loved doing this because invariably, as I arched my bottom up sexily, he'd reach out and spank me as I did it.

Something about pleasuring him with my mouth while he spanks me feels very unfair, and highly erotic. I felt a rush of desire spread in my pussy as it instantly got wetter with ever slap.

And then finally, once my bottom was stinging even more than it had last night, and he was thoroughly worked up and rock hard, he told me I could use his cock to give us both an orgasm. And so I'd ridden him like a cowgirl while he held my hips, or thighs, or breasts, bucking underneath me to fuck me deeper, until we climaxed at the same time and god it was so satisfying.

We'd both headed off to work happily that morning. I was due in the office to meet my new boss, and he was due in court.

I remember what I was wearing. A figure hugging grey dress, just above the knee, and black velvet heels. I even remember what underwear I was wearing - a tiny purple lace thong.

I rode on the bus, my pussy feeling wonderfully satisfied, my bottom still stinging deliciously, bought a takeaway coffee, and clopped into the large reception in my heels just after 9, my little briefcase in one hand and my coffee in the other, and got in the lift with one of my colleagues and had a nice mini catch up on our way up to the 4th floor.

It was only after I'd chatted to a couple of other people, and got myself sat down at my desk with my laptop that I realised I was 16 minutes late to a 9 o'clock meeting with my new boss. The meeting had been moved. How stupid of me not to check!

Horrified, I immediately set off to his office, knocking on the door and reflecting that this was a terrible first impression.

He was not gracious about it.

He was frowning as I entered, stammering an apology and thinking how far removed this was from the confident way I usually presented myself.

He looked at his watch and said simply: "Late."

Even though I'd already apologised, this necessitated me then apologising again as I approached his large desk and held out my hand.

He took it, thank goodness, but brusquely.

"Benjamin O'Reilly," he said.

"Jennifer Daltry," I replied. "Call me Jen."

He was a sternly good-looking man perhaps in his late forties, in very good shape, some silver in his hair which I found attractive. And he was clearly not someone to be trifled with. His complete lack of interest in putting me at my ease, and the intelligent almost interrogative focus with which he looked at me was intimidating. It was obvious to me that I was going to have to work very hard to impress this man.

"I won't stand for lateness," he told me. "Don't let it happen again. Now sit down," he told me, as if he was a headmaster addressing a naughty child.

I was speechless at being spoken to like this. But I also knew him to be a savagely effective and experienced barrister, with a formidable reputation. He was right to demand higher standards from me than stumbling in late for a first meeting.

So I sat, aware of my stinging bottom as I did so, and tried to pull myself together.

He proceeded to ask me about all of the cases I was involved in, demanding explanations and justifications, and having an extraordinary grasp of the details of each one. I felt like I was one step behind throughout, and I certainly didn't do myself justice, coming across as slightly inept and muddled.

He made me very nervous.

When the ordeal was finally over, I left the room not having made any human connection with him at all. He knew nothing about me as a person, and vice versa - no introductions or getting to know each other. I also had a long list of action items to follow up and get back to him on, and another meeting scheduled with him the following morning.

And yet, throughout the meeting with him, I was totally mesmerised by him. I found myself slightly distracted by his hands, which were large and strong, not unlike Stephen's, but hairier. I found myself melting under his eye contact, like an anxious schoolgirl. And I found myself wondering whether he had a girlfriend (there was no ring to suggest a wife), and if he did, whether he ever put her over his knee. And I wondered what that would be like.

So as I sat back at my desk, I was experiencing a wide range of feelings. I felt annoyed with myself for being late and for coming across so badly. I felt anxious to get the actions done and do a better job when we met tomorrow. I felt curiously elated about having spent time in his presence. And I felt slightly guilty for finding him as attractive as I did.

It's not that I didn't fancy other guys other than Stephen. Of course I did. I'd even sometimes wonder idly whether they were the sexually dominant type.

But this man... He set my pulse racing.

I related the encounter to Stephen over dinner - without the bits about how attractive I found him.

"Well I did tell you what he was like! Geoff used to work under him. He said he was a scary guy to work for, but that he learned an enormous amount from him."

"Yeah, I do think I'll learn a lot. I learned a lot just from one meeting to be honest - he helped me see a couple of my cases in a different light."

"There you go then. He's obviously demanding, but you'll figure out how to work with him won't you. And he'll help you progress."

He squeezed my hand reassuringly, and he was so kind about it that I felt that little pang of guilt again about my fleeting imaginings.

I dreamed about Benjamin O'Reilly that night. I was at a party with Stephen, and he was there, looking at me across the room in a disapproving sort of way - something to do with my short dress I think. Stephen had gone off to chat to someone, and my new boss was still looking at me from where he stood by the bar. And as those piercing eyes bored through me, my dress began to shrink. I remember thinking that I shouldn't have put it on such a hot wash, and the club now became something like a foam party or a steam room, and my dress was getting smaller and smaller and I wasn't wearing any underwear, and Benjamin O'Reilly was shaking his head in disappointment.

Stephen was back now, stood behind me, kissing my neck, and sliding his hand between my legs, fingering me softly, and I realised to my shame that I was already super wet. And all the while, Benjamin was watching.

And then I blinked awake and realised that Stephen was nuzzling me and touching my pussy in real life, with the morning light streaming in round the blinds.

We had slow sensual sex, and gradually my dream faded and I was focused entirely on Stephen. I had a lovely orgasm, and was completely lost in the moment and how beautiful it all felt.

But then he flipped me over, and spanked my bottom and the backs of my thighs several times before entering me again. And our sensual sex became something very different - something exciting and erotic. I had head down, resting on my elbows, my mouth open wide gasping as he fucked me and spanked me at the same time.

And suddenly my treacherous mind wandered to Benjamin. This is how he would have sex with women, I thought - and I imagined his serious face, uncompromising, and 100% in charge as he took what he wanted.

After Stephen had taken what he wanted, and we'd lain together for a few minutes catching our breath, it was time to get ready for the day.

I knew I mustn't be late this morning!

Just as I was about to leave, Stephen came into the hallway and pulled me to him and kissed me.

"I'm looking forward to fucking you like that again this evening," he told me, with a twinkle in his eye. "Maybe as soon as you get home."

"Oh are you now?" I grinned, both of us knowing that I would capitulate to whatever he wanted.

"So..." he went on, "You won't be needing these."

And he reached under my skirt, running his hands up the sides of my legs, and hooked his fingers under the waistband of my little knickers.

"Oh!" I gasped, completely thrown. I didn't really want to go to work without knickers on today. I was psyching myself up for another session with Benjamin.

But I didn't protest as Stephen slid my knickers down and let them drop to the floor round my ankles.

He ran his hands over my bare bottom, which was feeling really quite sore, kissed me again and then withdrew his hands, smoothed down my skirt, and said breezily: "Have a good day!"

As I walked to the bus stop, the breeze played with my skirt. It wasn't particularly short, but the style meant that it flipped up quite easily which I was acutely aware of. That, and the cool air round my pussy, was turning me on quite a lot.

I spent the bus ride trying to put all horniness out of my head, and focus on what was to come when I got into the office.

--

At 9am sharp, I knocked on the office door, and entered at the found of his voice saying "Enter."

I'd expected a warmer welcome, but to my surprise his expression was hardly any different to the day before, as he turned briefly away from his screen to give me the slightest of nods.

"Morning," I smiled.

He didn't reply, but simply pressed a button and spoke to his PA. "Margaret, I'm not to be disturbed for the next hour."

Then, turning back to his screen, he said: "I need you to explain this to me."

His tone of voice sounded concerned. Ominous.

The printer on the table next to me whirred into life.

"There, grab that and bring it here," he said, having clearly printed out whatever was on his screen.

I looked at the document which was landing, sheet by sheet, in the out-tray of the printer. I felt my throat go a bit dry. It was one of the documents I'd prepared for him yesterday.

I waited next to it for it to finish printing. I looked up at him to find him looking directly at me, frowning. He appeared impatient for me to bring it over - and yet it hadn't finished printing. Perhaps I should bring over the pages which had already come out?

I felt like I was on the backfoot again already.

After a long long minute, the printer finally finished and I gathered up the pages clumsily and brought them over to his desk.

His desk was very large, and mostly empty. He stood up and strode round to the same side of the desk as me, saying: "Spread it out."

Now at this point, two different conflicting, and very unhelpful, thoughts consumed my brain. One of them was how athletic he was - I hadn't appreciated that yesterday when he'd remained seated the whole time.

The second was that word "Spread" in the instruction he'd given me. It made my stomach flip. It was the sort of command that Stephen gave me.

I did as I was told, laying out all 12 pages across the width of his desk.

He was stood next to me as I did this, so the fact I was bent over a little arranging the pages somehow emphasised the feeling of being subordinate to him.

But even when I was stood up again he was still quite a bit taller than me. Taller even than Stephen.

He cast his eyes across the pages, and then jabbed at a paragraph on the fourth page.

"Read it out," he told me.

I had to stoop over a little to read the small text, and I was mindful of my dress exposing my legs. I knew that the backs of my thighs would still be a bit red and sore. I seriously hoped he couldn't see that.

I read the paragraph aloud, and then stood up again, smoothing down my skirt and looking at him expectantly, not comprehending what the issue was.

He just looked at me.

"No? You don't see the problem?"

"No s...." - and I stopped myself from nearly saying 'sir'!

"No Benjamin, sorry I'm not following."

He looked at me flatly, then he jabbed at another section, much further in the document.

Again, I bent over to read it.

As I read this section, I saw what he was getting at.

"Oh," I said, standing up and facing him nervously. "Right. Yes I see the contradiction."

"Pass my pen," he instructed.

I looked around to see where it was, since he didn't bother to point to it. It was lying next to his keyboard, and so I was forced to reach right over the desk to get it.

As I did so, I knew for a fact that the backs of my thighs would be visible to him this time, and I felt myself blushing. Please please please don't let him be looking, I thought.

And then he spoke.

"Jen. What happened to your legs?"

My heart stopped.

It wasn't a kind enquiry. It sounded stern. Accusatory.

I stood up quickly, holding his pen out to him, but he didn't take it. He was looking directly into my eyes and waiting for a reply.

If I hadn't been blushing before, I certainly was now. I felt the colour rising in my face as I struggled to think what to say.

Then he spoke again.

"I think someone has spanked you. Was it your husband?"

For some reason I answered him instinctively, before I'd even considered making something up.

"Yes," I admitted in a small voice, wishing that the ground would swallow me up. Why hadn't I worn trousers??

There was no reaction from him at all. He seemed to be considering what I'd said. Then after an eternity, during which time I tried and failed to maintain eye contact, he said:

"Do you like him spanking you?"

I'd never imagined in a million years that my boss would ask me something like that. It seemed like I must be dreaming. If only I was.

What possible answer could I give to this? If I said no it would be a lie, and it would suggest I was the victim of domestic violence.

If I said yes, it would be... unimaginably embarrassing to admit.

"Yes," I said again, in an even smaller voice.

He raised his eyebrows.

And what he said next made things even more humiliating.

"Bend over the desk again," he told me.

My heart stopped again, gripped in an icy panic. I couldn't move. I couldn't think.

This couldn't possibly be happening.

"No, please," I said, trying to regain some composure. "Why... I mean... I don't feel comfortable doing that."

He tilted his head and frowned. "It wasn't a question Jen. Bend over the desk. I'm not telling you to do anything that you haven't already done, right here in front of me, just a moment ago."

I could see no way to deny him. I couldn't imagine refusing him again. I wanted to run away, but his authority was absolute.

And of course he was right. I had just leaned over the desk, even though I'd known that he would be able to see the backs of my thighs. And having done that, it felt like I didn't really have any moral grounds to object to doing it again.

And so I found myself obeying him. My body moving slowly, acting mindlessly, as I bent over the desk, exactly as before. I even stretched out my hand as if I was reaching for the pen.

"Good. Now stay still," he told me.

I realised to my horror that he had sat down in the chair behind me. As I turned my head to look at him over my shoulder, I saw that he was sitting back, relaxed, his legs crossed, looking directly up my skirt.

I stayed absolutely motionless in position, paralysed, as I stared at him in disbelief.

There was nothing pervy about his manner or his expression. And his countenance was grave as he said:

"So tell me Jen, do you normally come to work without any underwear on?"

My stomach flipped.

I started to get up but he made a short "uh!" sound, and raised a finger, and I stopped immediately.

I had both my hands flat on the desk now, my elbows bent, ready to push myself up. But my chest was still flat to the surface, my bottom exposed to him. A moment passed before I felt like my voice would work well enough to reply to his question.

"No sir. Benjamin. This is the only time I've ever come to work... like this."

"Sir is fine," he told me.

I said nothing to this, but my heart was pounding.

"Can I get up now please?"

"No," he replied matter of factly.

And then he added: "Lift up your skirt. Pull your dress up so that it's resting on your back. I want to see the whole area that your husband has spanked."

Panic rose up in my throat. I was the victim of sexual abuse in this moment. Sexual harassment. What should I do? Shout for help? Run from the room?

And then what? Have it all come out that I'd been spanked. That I wasn't wearing any knickers.

Oh if only Stephen hadn't taken my knickers off.

I remained motionless, my mind racing.

Mentally I was screaming at myself to get up, and yet I was frozen in position.

The edge of the desk was digging into my hips uncomfortably. The mahogany block with his name on it was pressing into my right breast, protected only by the thin material of my dress. My bottom was tingling - not just because it was still sore and stinging, but from knowing that his eyes were focused on it.

I knew he would be able to see my pussy from where he sat, and the thought was too much for me.

But still I remained inert and unable to act.

"Jen."

"Yes?"

"Lift up your skirt."

"Yes sir."

And with trembling hands, I reached my hands behind me, lifted it up, and folded it back like he'd told me, and then put my hands back on the desk.

My whole bottom was fully exposed to him now. My humiliation was complete.

The room was utterly silent. I didn't dare look at him - my eyes were focused on the empty leather chair he'd been sitting in when I came in. I took in the details of its seams and buttons. The scuff on the right armrest. The reflection of the light from his monitor.

I could feel the air moving. The tiniest of breezes across my bare skin.

And his gaze. I could feel it taking in the shape of me.

Did he like what he saw?

I felt my pussy moisten, and my heart began to pound even harder. I had to think about something else. Focus on the chair.

I needed to not have a wet pussy while he was looking directly at it!

And then he spoke.

"Well, Jen, I can see that your husband has obviously spanked you more than once lately. Tell me, does he spank you when you do something wrong? Or just for fun?"

I swallowed. My throat was dry. "Mainly just because he likes doing it," I found myself saying. "But sometimes when I do stuff wrong."

"And in the latter case, does it correct your behaviour? Do you try not to commit the same mistake again?"

"Yes sir," I said. Calling him 'sir' felt completely natural, such was his level of authority with me.

"Well good, because I'm going to spank you now. In the hope that it helps you remember to properly check your work."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. Spank me??

I was so stunned that I couldn't find any words at all. It was so outrageous. So outside the realms of reality that my boss would be doing this to me.

But in those few moments of silence, I realised that I was powerfully turned on.

Suddenly, he stood up from the chair and came closer to me, standing next to me, and I turned my head to look into his eyes.

He was absolutely implacable. Totally calm and matter of fact, as if he were following a standard HR disciplinary policy that he'd done a hundred times before with other poorly performing members of staff.

Maybe he had?

"Eyes down, looking at the desk," he told me. "And raise your bottom."

At this point I simply obeyed without hesitation. This was happening. I needed to brace myself and get it over with.

But before I could mentally prepare, his hand smacked my bottom hard, and it was the shock of it as much as the pain which made me cry out.

Being spanked on an already sore bottom always feels like a very cruel thing. And I'd been spanked quite a lot by Stephen lately.

The cruelty of it is a powerful turn on for me, and I found myself suddenly completely in my subspace. I craved this spanking from him. I needed it.

In that moment, I abandoned my persona as Jennifer the Barrister, known for her competence, conscientiousness, and professionalism. I wasn't Mrs Daltry with a reputation for getting things done, and an excellent grasp of the details and nuance of the law.

Right now I was a submissive young woman in need of correction. A half naked submissive young woman.

And one who was being spanked by her new boss on the second day.

I raised my bottom higher, presenting it for punishment

He slapped me again. And then again. And unlike how Stephen spanked me, he kept his hand flat to my bottom after each slap, only taking it away after a second or two.

Again, unlike Stephen, he didn't stroke me or caress me in between. This was simply a punishment.

A fourth and a fifth and a sixth smack in quick succession, and I was starting to make a low keening sound as the afterburn of each wasn't subsiding before the next one arrived.

I found I was instinctively lifting one foot in response to each slap, and my high-heeled shoe came off and landed on the expensive wood floor with a thump.

Somehow, for reasons I can't explain, it made me feel even more naked and vulnerable to have one bare foot.

He fell into a rhythm now, spanking me over and over, alternating sides, until an intense stinging sensation began to build up, and a deep aching, and I was squirming a lot at this point.

He stopped. "You're moving too much. Stay still," he instructed.

And then he continued his continuous volley of hard slaps, and I thought about his large hand, and my pussy which must have been obviously wet, so exposed to him, and I felt utterly dominated and unbelievably aroused.

"Oh god," I remember whimpering. "Oh fuck."

And soon I was crying out really quite loudly, at which point he stopped again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pick up one of the pages of the document which had so displeased him. I think it was the one he'd first had me read from.

He scrunched it up into a ball, and reached over me to hold it in my face.

His suit jacket was brushing against my lower back, the silk lining feeling soft and cool against my skin.

"Open your mouth," he told me. And then, as I obeyed, he said: "Wider."

And then he pushed the ball of screwed up paper into my mouth, his hand covering my mouth for a moment in a way that excited me a lot.

He stood back up. "That should help you keep quiet."

And then my punishment resumed. Except now he was varying how he slapped me - sometimes with his hand lingering, sometimes not. Sometimes glancing blows, sometimes more forceful.

He covered my entire bottom, making it all hurt equally, and never stopping - not even when I really needed him to.

By the time he'd finished, I was a mess. If you've ever had it happen to you, you'll know that a bit like being in the throes of sex, a good spanking will make you lose all your self awareness, all your composure, and all your inhibitions. I was breathing hard, the ball of paper covered in my drool. My right cheek had been against the desk and was probably red, and my hair was dishevelled.

More importantly, my bottom was on fire.

I heard him walk away from me across the room, and then I heard him pouring water from the sleek decanter over by the window, and his footsteps returning.

"You can get up now Jen," he told me.

With difficulty, I lifted myself up off the desk to a standing position, my body complaining after being in that position for what felt like a long time. I could tell that my hips would be bruised from being up against the edge of the desk.

In one hand he was holding the glass of water. In the other he was holding his waste-paper bin, which he offered to me now to put the saliva-covered ball of paper into.

Then, he handed me the glass of water, and I took it and sipped it gratefully with my shaking hands as I hooked my foot back into my shoe.

I was shell shocked. Although my skirt had fallen back into place, I was acutely aware of having no knickers to pull up. He had just given me a very thorough spanking, and I was crazily turned on. I longed for him to keep dominating me.

He looked at me calmly. "I hope that will help you to do better next time?"

"Yes sir," I replied, my stomach full of butterflies.

I had lost my dignity, and I knew that forever more what had just happened meant that I would always be submissive to him.

"Good," he nodded. "Gather up these papers. And I suggest you go to the bathroom and fix your hair and so on before you go back to your desk."

"Yes, and thank you," I said, putting down the glass and collecting the pages.

As I left the room, he was sitting back at his desk looking at the computer screen.

"Shall I leave the door open?" I asked.

"Yes, that's fine," he said without looking at me.

And then I was walking down the quiet corridor in a daze. Had that really happened?

I went to the Ladies at the end of the corridor and looked at myself in the enormous mirror that ran along the back of the marble sinks. I was flushed, my eyeliner needed fixing, and my hair was sticking up on end on one side.

I turned round, and lifted my skirt. My bottom was a deep shade of pink - glowing. I had been spanked twice in the same morning, and that last one had been harsh.

I found it so arousing to see my bottom like that, and immediately I went into a cubicle and sat on the lid of the toilet and leaned back against the wall, running my hands up my thighs, lifting the skirt a little.

I longed to satisfy myself. I was so wet, and so horny.

I lifted my skirt and looked at my bare pussy, bringing my hand up softly to touch myself there. I groaned at how good it felt as my fingertips brushed over my wetness, and up to my hard clitoris.

It was impossible to resist sliding a finger inside myself. And then two.

And then I was using my other hand to finger my clitoris at the same time, thinking all the while about being bent over Benjamin's desk while he spanked me. The very idea that I had just been spanked in his office was enough to make me orgasm, and in seconds I was coming hard around my fingers, trying to be quiet but failing.

As the glorious sensations faded, and I was lying back against the wall with my eyes closed still making little moans, I heard the door to the toilets open and high heels on the tiled floor.

Time to pull myself together.

Five minutes later and I was in the lift down to floor 4 where I worked, looking reasonably put together, composed and calm.

I would have felt a lot better if I'd had knickers to pull up. But I didn't.

You might find it strange that I felt that way, given my past life with Jack when I was literally naked in nightclubs, or on the red carpet in front of the paparazzi.

But it's a very different proposition to be in your place of work. A serious place of work like a law firm, where you're building a career for yourself, and to be walking around with a wet pussy, and no knickers on, having just been soundly spanked. It makes you feel vulnerable on a whole different level.

I vowed that I would wear trousers tomorrow.

I worked hard all day, re-doing the document which Benjamin had taken issue with, and meeting some clients, and reviewing the work of some of my team members.

And all the while, I had to not think about my stinging bottom, and not think about facing Stephen that evening.

I saved all that for the bus journey home, where I sat agonising about what to tell my husband who had already told me that morning that he wanted to spank me and fuck me as soon as I got home. I couldn't take another spanking - but moreover, how could I possibly explain to him what had happened?

How would he feel? What would he do?

And I made a terrible decision on that bus ride home. I decided I wasn't going to tell Stephen any of it.

I convinced myself that all it would do was upset him, and since it was a one-off event, he didn't need to know. I would feign a headache and cry off sexual activity for the evening.

So that's exactly what I did.

He was very sweet. He cooked dinner, and ran me a bath, and looked after me, and I felt extremely guilty all evening.

I'd turned something which was not really my fault, into a dirty secret.

I lay awake that night awash with confusing feelings and thoughts. When I thought about being bent over that large desk with my skirt pulled up, I felt a rush of sexual excitement. But why? It was sexual abuse - I should have been feeling traumatised or angry.

I knew the answer. The delicious spankings which Stephen gave me felt safe. And this felt dangerous. Benjamin felt dangerous, and that made it thrilling on a level that I hadn't felt for a while.

Plus, in my place of work. In his office. It was so wrong. So fucked up. And somehow that made it all the more erotic.

Then I thought about Stephen. I was being unfaithful to him feeling all this excitement about another man. And lying to him.

And denying him sex - that felt awful to a submissive like me. I saw part of my role in our relationship as being pliant to his sexual will. It was something we both loved - and now I was at risk of spoiling it.

It went round and round in my head until at some point I must have fallen asleep because Stephen was stroking my hair and telling me it was time to wake up.

"Hello sleepyhead," he said. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"I'm fine," I said, forgetting about my pretend headache for a moment. And then I added: "My head is fine this morning. I'm just a little bit tired."

"I'm glad your head is okay. I guess it was just the result of a busy day." And he kissed my forehead tenderly, and ran his hand gently down my cheek.

His thumb played with the corner of my mouth, and then my bottom lip, in a way that was tender but also dominant.

"I think I'd like to take advantage of you while you're half asleep," he said. "How does that sound?"

I grinned. "It sounds wonderful."

And so it was that I set off to work that morning with a spring in my step. Things felt right between me and Stephen - we'd had lovely loving sex. No spanking, but he had pinned my wrists to the bed in a way that made me feel helpless and at his mercy, which I love.

Also, I had no meetings with Benjamin, and a relatively easy day where I'd be able to focus on a new brief which I needed to prepare, and do a great job of it which would make my boss very pleased with me.

There would be no repeat of what had happened yesterday. It was a one off, and would be quickly forgotten.

Except of course, that neither turned out to be true.