Complete more tasks.

After lunch, the filing is done. Every document in its place, every label perfect. You don’t even have to ask this time. She’s already at your desk, her skirt hiked up, her ass bare and waiting. The third stamp lands lower, on the inside of her thigh. She lets out a soft, needy whimper as the metal connects, the sound muffled against the wood of your desk. The marks are starting to blend together now, a constellation of ownership spreading across her skin. The ink is darker here, the bruise deeper, the letters slightly smudged from her movements. You press your fingers into the marks, watching as she squirms under your touch.

You attend a meeting with the other managers some time later. The afternoon drags on, but her notes are impeccable - every detail captured, every action item noted. She’s at your desk before you can even call for her, her skirt already around her waist, her panties long since discarded. The fourth stamp presses hard on the inside of her other thigh. By now she's trembling. The bruises are dark, angry marks, the letters raised slightly where the ink has pooled. The marks on the insides of her thighs have smeared. You can see the way they glisten, evidence of her arousal dripping down her legs.

Finally, the day's work is done. The last task is complete, and she's at your desk before you can even stand. You tell her to sit on the edge of the desk, and to spread her legs wide. The final stamp lands just above her pussy, the letters pressing into the most sensitive part of her. She cries out, her body jolting as the metal connects, the ink seeping into her skin. Then you flip her onto her stomach, her ass up high in the air, and run your hands over the marks, feeling the heat, the raised skin, the way she trembles under your touch.

The stamps are a map of the day, a record of her obedience. And as you unzip your pants, she knows what comes next. You don’t need to tell her to spread her legs wider. She does it on her own, her body already prepared, already yours. And as you sink into her, the stamps on her ass press against your thighs with every thrust - a reminder of who she belongs to.