She can't say no.

“Please ... haven't I done enough?” She's not running or fighting, but she's not exactly submitting like a good little slut either.

“Miss Miller.” Her eyes widen at the sharpness of my voice. “Get your pretty little ass over here right now or you'll find out what happens to my employees when they defy me.” I wonder if Alison wants me to spank her again. It's not my favorite kind of foreplay, but it's certainly no something I'm opposed to either. I rub my hands together warming them up and perhaps that silent threat is enough to get her moving.

“Yes, Sir ... I'm sorry, Sir.” She walks slowly to where I'm sitting on the edge of the bed and shudders softly when I place my hands on her slender hips and admire the freshly shaven mons. Luckily for Alison, the light-brown hair that she had on her pretty muff had been as fine and soft as the hair on her head and the razor had no trouble cleanly cutting it away leaving only a slightly pink area on her pale skin.

“Very nice, Miss Miller.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Her pink labia are already slightly puffy and glistening, and I chuckle as I trace the tip of my finger along the slightly opened slit. “Does this excite you, Miss Miller?” I ask as I lift my finger to my nose and breath in the scent of her juices. There is a long pause before she finally admits what we both already know.

“Yes, Sir.” The whisper comes out in a soft breath. Alison is able to mix together the perfect amount of shame and excitement, and it is easy to imagine that this is that fictional Harlequin heroine submitting to the will of her powerful boss. “I can't believe I shaved myself like a whore. I hate it, Mr. Patterson, I hate the way each time you give me an order my breath catches and my inside melt. I don't know why ...”

“That's your true nature, Miss Miller.” I explain kindly even as my hand returns to her sex. “All you needed to discover this was a man strong enough to shatter that veneer of righteous propriety that you came to me with.” I don't know if her little gasp is because of my assessment, or the way my palm has covered her freshly smoothed mons and middle finger is curling into her. “But you do understand now, don't you, Miss Miller.”

“Yes, Sir.” I can feel her inner muscles clamp tightly around the invading digit and a slight shudder as she acknowledges her submissive nature. “I want to scream out in anger and humiliation ... I want to slap your smug face and tell you what I think of your chauvinistic arrogance ... but I can't. All I can think about is how good It felt when you took me. Dear Jesus, forgive me.”

“Spread your legs wider, Miss Miller.” I instruct her as I turn her slightly to get a better angle for my hand, “rest your hand on my shoulder if you need to, because you're going for a ride.”

“Oh God, not again!” In spite of her half-hearted protest, Alison does exactly what I ask, and her other hand comes down to rest on mine, not to stop me, but to press my hand even more firmly against her smooth skin.

“It looks like you've tamed your innocent secretary, Mr. P.” The slight change in her tone lets me know that it is no longer the Harlequin heroine speaking, but my sex-hungry tenant eager to see how I use her this time. “She came to you all pure and full of confidence, and you've reduced her to a position where she can no longer say 'no' to you.” Her breathing is coming out in gasps now as she is already getting closer to the climax that must have been waiting just below her calm exterior. “You can do anything you want to her Mr. P. Are you going to try to knock her up again? She wants it, I know she does.”