Again my strict boss
My boss asked me to stay at work late in the office today. I said I couldn't. Then he took ropes from his desk and tied me up. When I began to protest he gagged me and leave me alone in the office. Now I will must stay in the office until my boss returns to release me.
"You're not going anywhere, young lady," Mr. Jenkins barked, his voice cutting through the quiet office like a knife. I stared at him in shock, my hands clutching my purse. I had just told him I couldn't stay late tonight, that I had plans with a friend. The way he looked at me, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set, made my stomach drop.
He walked around his desk with the confidence of a man who knew he was in charge. His tie swung like a pendulum, the only movement in the suddenly tense space. He pulled out a set of ropes from the drawer, and my heart skipped a beat. This wasn't the first time he had asked me to stay late, but the ropes were definitely new.
With surprising deftness, he approached me, the ropes uncoiling in his hands. "You're going to learn the meaning of obedience," he said, his tone low and menacing. I felt the rough fibers of the ropes as they wrapped around my wrists, tightening until they bit into my skin. My breath hitched, but I remained defiant, glaring at him through the curtain of my hair that had fallen over my eyes.
He didn't stop there. His eyes raked over my body, and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as he took in every inch of my attire. The suntab pantyhose clung to my legs, the black leather miniskirt barely covering my ass, the red blouse hugging my breasts, and the red boots that went almost up to my knees. He smirked, his gaze lingering on the swell of my cleavage. "Very inappropriate for work," he murmured, as if to himself, before he moved behind me.
My legs were next, the ropes winding around my ankles and then my knees, tying them tightly together. The sudden loss of balance made me wobble, but I managed to stay upright, my heart racing in my chest. The feeling of being at his mercy was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating. The scent of his cologne filled my nostrils as he worked, a potent mix of leather and sandalwood that seemed to amplify my anxiety.
As he finished securing me, Mr. Jenkins stepped back to admire his handiwork. I struggled against the restraints, the ropes cutting into my flesh. He sighed, his expression one of disappointment. "You really need to learn to follow orders without a fuss." He reached for the red scarf on his desk, and before I could utter another protest, he had wrapped it around my head, securing it tightly over my mouth. The fabric was rough against my skin, and it tasted faintly of his aftershave.
With a cruel twist of the knots, he silenced me completely. I could feel my eyes watering, both from the pressure of the scarf and the frustration burning within me. He patted my cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle, and said, "Now, I'll be back to deal with you later. Don't go anywhere." With a final, sadistic smile, he turned off the lights and left me there, alone and bound in the dark office.
He walked around his desk with the confidence of a man who knew he was in charge. His tie swung like a pendulum, the only movement in the suddenly tense space. He pulled out a set of ropes from the drawer, and my heart skipped a beat. This wasn't the first time he had asked me to stay late, but the ropes were definitely new.
With surprising deftness, he approached me, the ropes uncoiling in his hands. "You're going to learn the meaning of obedience," he said, his tone low and menacing. I felt the rough fibers of the ropes as they wrapped around my wrists, tightening until they bit into my skin. My breath hitched, but I remained defiant, glaring at him through the curtain of my hair that had fallen over my eyes.
He didn't stop there. His eyes raked over my body, and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as he took in every inch of my attire. The suntab pantyhose clung to my legs, the black leather miniskirt barely covering my ass, the red blouse hugging my breasts, and the red boots that went almost up to my knees. He smirked, his gaze lingering on the swell of my cleavage. "Very inappropriate for work," he murmured, as if to himself, before he moved behind me.
My legs were next, the ropes winding around my ankles and then my knees, tying them tightly together. The sudden loss of balance made me wobble, but I managed to stay upright, my heart racing in my chest. The feeling of being at his mercy was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating. The scent of his cologne filled my nostrils as he worked, a potent mix of leather and sandalwood that seemed to amplify my anxiety.
As he finished securing me, Mr. Jenkins stepped back to admire his handiwork. I struggled against the restraints, the ropes cutting into my flesh. He sighed, his expression one of disappointment. "You really need to learn to follow orders without a fuss." He reached for the red scarf on his desk, and before I could utter another protest, he had wrapped it around my head, securing it tightly over my mouth. The fabric was rough against my skin, and it tasted faintly of his aftershave.
With a cruel twist of the knots, he silenced me completely. I could feel my eyes watering, both from the pressure of the scarf and the frustration burning within me. He patted my cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle, and said, "Now, I'll be back to deal with you later. Don't go anywhere." With a final, sadistic smile, he turned off the lights and left me there, alone and bound in the dark office.
