Take her for a walk.

You guide Gemma out of your office. The rest of the building is empty, all the other employees long gone. The only sound is the distant hum of a vending machine and the soft click-click of Gemma’s heels against the ground as she crawls ahead of you. The leash is taut in your hand, the other end clipped to the collar around her neck, forcing her to keep pace. The fluorescent lights cast sharp shadows on her bare skin, the marks from the nipple clamps already darkening her breasts. She doesn’t make a sound, but you can see the way her fingers tremble where they press into the floor, the way her breath stops every time the clit clamp tugs with her movements.

The hallway is long, the carpet rough against her knees. You don’t rush her. Instead, you let her feel every inch of the crawl, the way the buttplug stretches her with each step, the clamps sending jolts of pain through her body. Her pussy is dripping all over the carpet, leaving a trail of dark fluid all the way from your office door. You pause at the water cooler, pressing the button to fill a cup. She stops when you do, her body trembling as she waits. You crouch down, tilting the cup to her lips. She drinks obediently, but most of the water spills down her chin. When she’s done, you pour the rest of the cup over her back, the cool liquid trickling down her spine and between her ass cheeks, mixing with the slickness already there.

You tug the leash, and she obeys, her heels clicking as she resumes her crawl.

The break room is next. You lead her to the center of the space, the linoleum cold under her knees. You loop the leash around the leg of the table, shortening it so she’s forced to arch her back, her ass in the air, the plug on full display. You step back, admiring the view - her body stretched out for you, the clamps glinting, the chain of the clit clamp taut as she shifts restlessly. You pull out your phone, snapping a few pictures of her. The flash makes her flinch, but she doesn’t move. She can’t.

When you’re satisfied, you unloop the leash, guiding her toward the supply closet. The door is already open, the space dark and confined. She hesitates for only a second before crawling inside, her body trembling as you follow, shutting the door behind you. The first strike of your belt against her ass echoes in the small space. She cries out, her body jerking forward, but there’s nowhere to go. The plug shifts deeper, the clamps pulling tighter with her movements. You strike her again, the sound mingling with her gasps, the scent of her arousal thick in the air. Then again. And again.

The night is just getting started.