**"Property Transferred"**

The click of the retractable pen echoed in the silent office. Rafaela watched Denise Almeida—hair pulled back in a stiff bun, icy blue eyes—as the tip of the instrument slid across the manager's name tag. *"Rafaela"*, in curvilinear letters, gleamed under the fluorescent light.

Denise shuddered as if she'd been electrocuted. Her trembling fingers touched the name tag, the ink still warm.

"What are you..." she began, but her voice trailed off as Rafaela pulled at the collar of her blouse to expose her collarbone. The pen traced the skin: *"Rafaela"*, in crimson red.

The hallway was empty. The air smelled of coffee and power.

"Mine," Rafaela whispered, holding Denise's chin. The manager swallowed hard, her legs trembling. Her lipstick was slightly smudged.

— "Ma'am," Denise replied automatically, her eyes darkening.

Rafaela smiled. Without haste, she slid her hand down the woman's neck, feeling her accelerated pulse. Denise's khaki dress was fitted at the waist, and Rafaela couldn't resist pulling down the back zipper with a single finger. The fabric yielded with a seductive *shhh*.

— "Here?" Denise gasped, but was already turning, pressing her buttocks against Rafaela's thigh.

— "Here."

The first slap echoed like a gunshot. Denise groaned, gripping the wall. The second left a pink mark on her pale skin. Rafaela didn't stop—each blow was calculated, each sigh from Denise a symphony.

When Rafaela's fingers found the moisture between the manager's legs, Denise was already arched, panting, her badge swinging in her cleavage.

— "Come," Rafaela ordered, biting her ear.

Denise obeyed. Her body trembled, her knees buckled. The mark on her collarbone throbbed, red as embers.

In the hallway, Lucas watched, his mouth slightly open and his hands clutching his erection.

"You're next." Rafaela didn't look at him, she just held out the pen.

Lucas swallowed. The pen fell to the floor, rolling to his feet.

Denise, on her knees, picked it up.