I was taking quick peaks over my shoulders in each direction outside my cubicle walls between feverish strokes of makeup that I hadn't had time to apply before I left my apartment this morning. Another late night had left me short on sleep and thus short on time.

Once I realized I'd turned off my alarm in a half-asleep still-buzzed daze, it was a mad dash to spray my wild wavy locks with dry shampoo and run fingers through the tangles, pulling on my already sore scalp. From my closet, I dug out a plain black pencil skirt and a flowery, butt-ugly, blouse I wear only to work. I'd thrown on a bra but couldn't find any clean panties. Fuck it, I thought. Going to work commando ranked pretty low on my shame meter these days.

I put on deodorant and gave myself a wet wipe bird bath as I swished mouthwash, hoping not to smell like sex, tequila, and cigarettes by time I got to work. A glance at the clock showed I had forty-five minutes to get to my office, an hour's commute away. I'd just speed like a maniac the whole drive there. I grimly snorted a laugh to myself because it's not like a fatal freeway accident wouldn't solve a lot of my problems. I spat the mouthwash, wiggled my fat ass and hips into my stretchy pencil skirt, tucked my blouse into the high waist and puffed it out to be billowy and maybe hide my unsmooth belly. There was nothing I could do about my belly pouch that kept my skirt from laying flat, but whatever – I could hide behind my cube all day and it didn't really matter at work.

Funny how I needed to psych myself up to go to work in perfectly appropriate office attire because it might put my flaws on focus -- but being stark naked with strangers was totally fine. It's amazing the difference that dark of night, booze, and a liberal dose of self-hatred can make in what you'll allow to happen to your body.

So, there I was, at my cube, a mirror propped up on my scanner. I'd just finished my face, brows, eyes, and was mid-stroke of some lipstick when -- too late -- I heard a footstep and a soft, but masculine throat-clearing behind me. I quickly placed the wand back into the tube of liquid lipstick and spun around in my chair.

Not that I was a social employee, more of the type to show up and do my work, then leave – but I'd really never seen this man before. He was dressed so much nicer than the typical office troll. Hell, he was more handsome than any man in the entire building that I'd ever talked to. The man was an Adonis in business wear. He wore crisp, dark gray slacks, a button-down shirt that was almost imperceptibly lavender. A lesser observer might think the shirt was white. The crisp starkness of this clothing outlined the hard lines of his body that I instantly compared to my own and felt immediately self-conscious.

Thoughts raced through my head a million miles per hour, and I couldn't make any real words come out of my slack-jawed face hole. God, I must have looked like an absolute idiot. Think Kevin from The Office in female form. With an arched black eyebrow on his beautifully masculine, swarthy-toned face, he spoke first.

“Do you always do your personal care routine at your desk instead of your bathroom vanity?”

Something about the tone and timber of his voice left goosebumps on my skin. I was so primed after the night I'd had, I was glad I'd thrown on a padded bra in my rush this morning because this blouse would have been sheer enough to betray my hard nipples. The scent of his cologne and the tie he wore had my brain replaying unwelcome flashbacks to the night before – my wrists tied painfully together with a thin strip of silky material, and attached to the headboard of a stranger's bed. The back of my bare body had been mercilessly exposed to the lashing of a lifetime. From the sounds and sensations, I'd bet anything that it had been a necktie and a belt. Much like the necktie and belt I was now staring at from my desk chair. Good god, he was tall.

“Ah... I'm sorry, I was in a rush to get here on time so I figured I'd put on my lipstick at my desk,” I said, quieter than my normal volume. “Can I help you? I'm sorry ,I don't think we've met.”

“Well, you might as well have taken your time, Miss Landry, since you're late anyway.” I shrunk under his piercing stare and he continued, “It is Friday the fifteenth. You were to be here a half-hour early along with everyone else to meet the new department head.”

I gasped and stood so fast my desk chair went spinning behind me, loudly crashing into the corner of my desk.

“Oh shit. Shit!. What time is it? Oh my god. Thank you so much for coming to get me,” I spit out with a rushed breath. “See you in there.”

I ducked past him and speed-walked to the conference room.

At least I was on the same floor as the meeting. When I arrived, I was greeted with the sound of low murmurs of a full conference room. I glanced at the clock and was surprised the meeting was not in full swing. Thank god the new department head was running late too because the only seat left was in the center of the first row of chairs.

I squeezed into the seat, the people next to me making not-so-subtle sighs at having to tuck in their arms to make way for the big girl. These chairs were hard plastic with no upholstery and, as soon as my ass made contact with the hard surface, I winced. In my hasty decision to give up looking for clean panties I'd not considered how I would only have one thin layer between the still-fresh welts and bruises on my ass and the hard plastic seating of the conference room. This would not be a fun meeting. And goddamn if that wasn't an understatement.

Not thirty seconds after I'd sat down, the door clicked open and all the voices dwindled to silence almost immediately. I craned my neck to see as the new director walked up the aisle between chairs to stand in front of us. My helpful mystery man, the swarthy god-in-a-suit who reminded me of this meeting, took his place directly in front of me and introduce dhimself as the new Director of Corporate Records. My new boss.

He shot me a withering glare I was so sure everyone would notice before his face opened up into the most beautiful, handsome smile. “I apologize for the delay, but now that you're all in attendance,” he glanced back down at me with lightning speed and then back to the audience at large, “I'm Christopher Bellingham, and I will be starting officially on Monday of next week as your new Director of Corporate Records. I know HR sent out a company wide email with my professional history and experience, so I won't be wasting your time reiterating that. I wanted this opportunity to greet you all at once and tell you a few of my preferences and expectations going forward with this change of leadership.”

Like all beautiful things, his smile was short-lived.

“I am a stickler for professionalism; the oft-forgotten rules and etiquette that modern, liberal companies have come to disregard. This is not Google or Facebook. This is not a trendy tech start-up. I expect my department to be a shining example to the rest of the organization.” He took a comfortable, slow breath, crossed his muscular arms, and placed his feet shoulder width apart so that his crotch was in my direct line of sight and uncomfortably close to my face. My cheeks reddened slightly as he continued speaking to the group but looking only at me, “Being unfailingly punctual, well dressed, and fully prepared and made-up prior to arriving are just the beginning of my expectations for all of you,”

He paused and looked back at the room as a whole. “I'm sure this will take some adjustment for some of you, but please be aware that infractions of my code of professionalism will be met with...” And I swore as he paused, his mouth was forming the sound of the letter “p”.

My whole body tingled with hot pinpricks of anxiety as I recalled my night before, my ass cheeks feeling raw and hot as my mind flashed with the word punishments. I recalled anew the white-hot lashes of the leather belt that struck again and again until I was screaming and sobbing into a stranger's mattress. I averted my eye contact from Mr Bellingham and looked down at my wrists. If I pushed up the sleeve of my cardigan, I would see the bruises. A disgusting mottled mix of yellow, green, blue, and purple. A gross display of various stages of bruising from being restrained for the various forms of sexual degradation I'd willingly put myself through every day this week.

I glanced back up at my new boss as he finished with, “infractions of my code of professionalism will be met with consequences.” Not punishments, you sick fuck – I chided myself mentally. He dismissed us with, “You're all free to go about your normal work day. Thank you.”

I stood as everyone else did to make their way toward the door when I felt a tap on my shoulder that sent inexplicable electricity through my body. I turned to see Christopher Bellingham leaning close to me, tilting his head toward my face.

I froze as his lips nearly grazed my ear, “I need you to stay behind and speak to me further, Miss Landry.”

His voice and warm breath sent shivers down my neck and body that I couldn't control. I was instantly struck with fear of being fired, but even that was heavily outweighed by the effect his voice and close proximity had on my body. My thighs instantly squeezed together as I felt my bare, panty-less pussy become damp with the thoughts of my new boss and his... consequences.