They tell your work

You wake up the next morning with a dull, aching tension in your chest. It’s not fear exactly—it’s more like anticipation, a mixture of dread and excitement for what’s to come. Last night was just the beginning, a slow, teasing descent into the humiliation you craved, and Eleanor and Emily made it clear they weren’t done with you.

You dress for work mechanically, your mind still replaying the events of the previous evening. Their words echo in your head as you pull on your crisp shirt and knot your tie. The leather soles of your expensive shoes click softly as you descend the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As you drive to the office, you try to shake the thoughts out of your head, to focus on the day ahead. But the weight of what happened follows you like a shadow, lurking just behind you, whispering reminders of your place. You know Eleanor and Emily won’t stop at just humiliating you in private. They want more—they want to control every part of your life.

When you walk into the office, everything looks the same. The quiet hum of phones ringing, the soft chatter of your employees, the tapping of keyboards. It’s familiar, comforting in a way, but today, it feels different. You’re different.

Your secretary, Megan, glances up as you walk by. She’s been with you for years, a fixture in your professional life. Tall and confident, she always commands attention without trying—though not quite as imposing as Eleanor and Emily, she has her own way of making you feel on edge. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she’s wearing her usual professional attire: a sleek black pencil skirt that hugs her curves and a white blouse tucked in perfectly. Her feet are adorned in black stilettos, polished and sharp. You’ve always liked those shoes, but now, something about the sight of them stirs an uncomfortable reminder of the night before.

She gives you a polite nod as you pass, her usual greeting, but today her eyes linger on you for just a moment longer than usual, as if she’s studying you. You brush it off, telling yourself it’s nothing, but the feeling sticks with you as you head to your office.

The morning moves slowly, and you bury yourself in your work, trying to regain some sense of normalcy. But as the hours pass, there’s an underlying tension you can’t shake. You keep glancing at the door, half expecting Eleanor or Emily to walk in, to continue what they started. Every time your phone rings, you jump, your nerves fraying with each passing minute.

Just after lunch, your phone buzzes with a text. It’s from Eleanor.

**"Told you we weren’t done. Check in with Megan when you have a moment. She knows everything now."**

Your heart sinks. You read the message over and over, the meaning of it settling like a stone in your stomach. Megan knows. Eleanor told her. You can’t even begin to process the implications of that. Megan, the woman who handles all your meetings, coordinates your entire day, and has always looked up to you as her boss, now knows the truth. She knows your secret, your humiliation, your weakness.

For a moment, you think about leaving—just walking out of the office and pretending none of this is happening. But you can’t. You’re trapped. You wanted this, and now you have to face the consequences.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up and smooth out your suit. You **** yourself to walk down the hallway to Megan’s desk, your footsteps louder than usual, as if the entire office is watching you, sensing the shift in power.

Megan looks up as you approach, a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips. She stands up, her heels clicking as she does, and you notice something different in her posture today—a confidence, an ease, like she knows something you don’t. Which, of course, she does now.

“Mr. Lawson,” she says smoothly, her tone professional but with an edge that wasn’t there before. “How can I help you?”

You clear your throat, trying to keep your voice steady. “I, uh... I just wanted to check in. Is there anything on my schedule for this afternoon?”

Megan steps around her desk, her stiletto heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She’s close now, closer than she needs to be, and she looks you up and down, her smile widening. “Actually, there is something,” she says, her voice dropping to a lower, almost conspiratorial tone. “I had a very interesting conversation with Eleanor this morning.”

Your stomach flips at the mention of your wife’s name. You **** yourself to meet Megan’s gaze, but it’s difficult. Her eyes are sharp, knowing, and there’s a flicker of amusement in them that wasn’t there before.

“She told me everything,” Megan continues, her voice soft but firm. “About you. About your... little secrets.”

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “I... I’m not sure what you mean.”

Megan laughs softly, shaking her head. “Oh, come on, Mr. Lawson. Don’t insult me. I know exactly what kind of man you are now.” She steps even closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And I have to say, I never would have guessed.”

You feel your face flush with shame. There’s no point in denying it anymore. Megan knows, and there’s no taking it back.

“I wonder,” she muses, tapping a perfectly manicured finger against her chin, “what everyone else would think if they knew, too. Your employees, your colleagues... maybe even a few clients?”

Panic grips you at the thought. She wouldn’t—she couldn’t. But the glint in her eyes tells you she’s enjoying this too much not to toy with the idea.

“Please,” you manage to say, your voice quieter than you intended. “You don’t have to do that.”

Megan tilts her head, feigning surprise. “Oh, but I think I do. You see, Mr. Lawson, I think it’s time we had a little... shift in how things work around here. Don’t you?”

She steps back, giving you a once-over, her smile widening as she takes in your discomfort. “From now on, things are going to be a little different. I’ll be in charge. And you’re going to do exactly what I say, or... well, I’m sure you can imagine the consequences.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can feel the walls closing in around you. You’re trapped again, this time by Megan, and there’s no way out. You wanted to be humiliated, to be dominated—and now, it’s happening in the last place you ever expected.

“Now,” Megan says, her voice suddenly all business again, “there’s a meeting with the board this afternoon. I’ll be joining you for that. And after that, we’ll see how well you can take orders, Mr. Lawson.”

She turns on her heel, her stiletto clicking sharply against the floor as she walks away, leaving you standing there, stunned and powerless. You watch her retreating form, her head held high, her confidence radiating with every step. She doesn’t even need to look back. She knows you’ll follow her.

You return to your office, your legs feeling shaky as you sit down behind your desk. Everything has changed. Megan’s in control now, and there’s nothing you can do to stop her.

And the worst part? A small, twisted part of you can’t wait to see what she’ll do next.