Five O'Clock

You spend ten minutes getting things ready, and promptly at five, there's a tap on your door frame and Meghan stands there, struggling for professionalism.

"Amanda is here Mr. Chandler." Amanda steps through the door, casting a brief glance of triumph at your secretary.

"Come in and shut the door. No, you too Meghan." The two of them share a look with each other before complying. Amanda looks at you with frank sexuality.

"You wanted to see me, Sir."

"I did. Take your clothes off Amanda." There's no doubt about the smirk that she gives to Meghan as she slowly strips.

"Going to make her watch again, boss? Frustrate her again, watching you fuck me? Just as you like, I don't have any panties on." She stares at you with sultry eyes. You stand up and walk slowly towards her as she removes the last of her clothing. She licks her lips and watches you approach, her face full of wanton lust.

You stop a few feet away, openly appraising her body, taking in her firm, proud breasts, the elegant smoothness of her thighs, the grace of her neck, the cocky tilt of her head. You step forward and slap her, not hard but enough to shock her. She put a hand to her cheek, her eyes open wide with the beginnings of fear, and you grasp her wrists and pull her towards the coffee table before she can think of resisting.

"What are you doing? I don't understand..." she's babbling frantically as you push her down over the table, holding her there as you snap the handcuffs you had prepared earlier around her wrists. She tries to rise, but finds the cuffs tied to a taut rope stretched between the table legs. She looks up at you, her hair tousled, her eyes panicking. She's bent over the width of the table, he head over one side, her ass over the other.

"What are you doing?" she pleads, squirming. You ignore her, and loop a rope around her right knee, pulling it tight and tying it to the same cord the handcuffs are tied too. Taking another rope, you repeat the process with her right knee. She's now completely helpless, the picture of naked distress.

You see that Meghan is standing shocked, looking at her friend's dilemma. Her face is flushed with something, but you're not sure if it's embarrassment or the beginnings of arousal.

"You don't have to do this Mr. Chandler!" Amanda pleads. "You know you can have me anytime you want. You've already fucked me, you know I love it, please let me go!" she struggles helplessly, but very prettily against her bonds. You kneel in front of her, holding her chin up so your faces are only inches apart.

"This is to teach you Amanda. To teach you not to presume. To teach you your place."

"Please Sir, I'm sorry. I don't know what I did but I'm sorry. Please let me go. Please sir," she whimpers, a faint sheen of sweat on her pretty face. You ignore her pleas, but look up at Meghan apparently frozen in place.

"Why do you still have clothes on, wench?" you snap and are gratified to see her jump, hastily fumbling with her clothes. She soon stands before you naked, her eyes fixed on you and Amanda, waiting for your orders.

"There is a whip on top of my desk, wench. Go and get it, and stand behind Amanda." As you give the order you're looking into Amanda's eyes, and see her panic deepen.

"What are you going to do to me?" she whines. You kiss her forehead, gently.

"I'm going to train you, Amanda." you answer.