It was Friday; most people had already started to go home to their families when Mr. White asked her to come to his office. She knew that she was in trouble. She had been late for work two days this week and on top of that, she had kind of made a mess out of two orders, because she had confused Slovenia with Slovakia (but she had found out in time and had ironed everything out before shipping anything).

“Please have a seat, Faye,” he said and closed the door to his spacious office behind her. Did she also hear the sound of the door being locked behind her?

He made a gesture toward the low, dark grey and expensive-looking leather sofa. She sat. She found she had to sit with her legs crossed at the knees and leaning slightly forwards to sit somewhat decent. Her grey skirt was knee-long and tight, but absolutely fine for office work, especially when she also had to man the reception when the girl who had that job went on her breaks.

“You don´t drive, do you?” he asked.

“No. I mean, I have a driver's license, but it is so much easier just taking the subway."

His small talk was a bit confusing. Then he opened a cabinet, took a tray with two tall glasses and then bent down to get a bottle of white wine from the tiny fridge that only the most prosperous of the bosses had in their offices.

“Now, are you sure you have what it takes to make it in this company?” he asked, not looking at her, because he was also opening the bottle.

“I hope so, Mr. White,” she said, her voice already trembling, but just a little.

“How can we make sure that you get here on time, Faye?"

“I already have two alarm clocks plus my phone."

"Maybe you just need to go to bed a bit earlier. Don´t you have a boyfriend?"

“No, not at the moment,” she said. She could feel how her face was turning red.

“Not even a lover? Some good, good sex would make you fall asleep easier."

She said nothing. Mr. White was pouring wine into the glasses. Faye knew where this was heading and she knew that she should tell him to stop. Put up a straight face and simply tell him that he had crossed the line.

“A good, mature and kinky lover...”

She gasped loudly but took the wine glass he was handing her. As he let go of the glass, the back of his hand softly touched her cheek. She shivered and smiled a very quick smile. They drank. She let her brown eyes meet his blue, but only for a very brief moment.

“Put your phone on mute.”

She simply nodded as she dug her phone out. It was as if she could feel his power, even though he was standing on the other side of the low coffee table.

“Now. What should I do about you sleeping late all the time?"

“I...I am not sure, sir,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.

“Come on, you are, what, twenty?”

“I am twenty-one.”

“So you must have a suggestion to help you get out of this...awkward situation, Faye. You know what you need, don´t you?”

Her jaw dropped, then she picked up the glass and took a healthy sip.

“Perhaps...” she began, her eyes looking at a point far, far beyond him, “a little...spanking will help me get up, Mr. White.”

“That is a very...creative suggestion, Faye.”

His voice was completely calm. As if this was something that happened here, in this office on a regular basis.

“Now, please take your skirt off.”

She nodded. Began to open the buttons. Pulled the zipper down. She knew she had missed her chance to get out. But was that really what she wanted?

To be honest, she didn´t really know herself. She made a tiny, squeaking sound as her skirt fell to the floor and then she stepped out of it. Luckily it was one of the rare days when she wasn´t wearing pantyhose. Her last clean pair had had a runner, so she had to use self-supporting stockings. It was clearly the most bizarre situation she had ever been in. Not entirely unpleasant, but very, very strange.

“Remove that...lacy thing,” he said and drank some wine. Her face was tomato red as she quickly took off her black G-string and put in her purse. Why did this make her so turned-on?

She was not an experienced girl. She liked guys her own age, not mature men like Mr. White; he was at least forty and his temples were greying. Not at all her type!

“So...are you used to getting a little spanking, Faye?”

“No, sir!”

“Do you think that it would help you remain focused on the task if we restrain your mobility a little?” he asked and loosened his necktie a little. Her jaw dropped. She would be helpless if she let him tie her hands or legs. Her heart was beating faster now. Strange, because Faye was a romantic girl, not at all into those things!

Not at ALL!

She held her hands towards him, wrists pressed together, to make it easier for him. Mr. White ignored her, turned and went over to his table and pulled out one of the lower drawers. She managed to grab her glass and take a healthy drink.

“But surely, a boyfriend must have tied you up a little?”

“No!”

She did not really know where to put her hands. She was not used to being half-naked in front of a man she only knew as Mr. White. Or any other man, for that matter.

“Come here, young Faye”

She walked to where he was pointing, in front of his possibly antique desk, almost as large as her kitchen.

“Now, put your right hand forward.”

As she did that, he grabbed her wrist and pulled it towards him. Then he quickly put a cuff on her wrist and let it click. The other end was attached to something. A drawer-handle, probably. She moaned softly, but her face remained (she hoped) free of expressions.

“Now the left hand, Faye.”

She hesitated but only for a second. Her boss quickly strapped a broad leather band on her left wrist. The band had a chain attached. She could not see what the chair was attached to at the other end, even though she was bending over the table. At any rate, she could not really get free. How had it come to this?

She looked up at Mr. White, trying to catch his eyes. That did not happen.

“You can have a very...prosperous future here with us, but we demand certain standards, Faye. I hope you understand that.”

“I do, Mr. White.”

He was walking around the table. She was leaning over the table. Her legs were straight and parallel.

“We can, of course, move you to another department. There is a vacancy in the shipping department and we are constantly looking for cleaners. That is, if you do not agree with this...little arrangement."

She said nothing. Why was she not saying anything?

She WAS a hopeless romantic: moonlit dinner with champagne, red roses, all those standard stuff you see in the movies, not chains and dominance, not at all!

“I understand, Mr. White. I deserve a…a…a..."

“A what, Faye?”

“A...fair punishment,” she finally managed to say in a weak voice. She was trembling inside. She gasped when a soft but very audible slap landed on her behind.

“Was that a fair punishment, Faye?"

“No, sir.”

“Well, either this is enough, or else we go the whole way. Then it is possible that you don´t get your full freedom until tomorrow or Sunday,” he continued. She was breathing hard now. This was not what she had expected. The only thing on her agenda for the weekend was doing the laundry.

“Perhaps...it is best to go the...whole way, sir,” she heard herself say. He slapped her behind again, a little harder; the sound it made was louder.

“Are you sure, Faye? There will be no turning back, and I am a kinky old guy."

“Yes, I am certain, Mr. White."

A finger was between her butt cheeks now.

“Did you know that we have voted you best ass on this floor?” he said. Then he pressed the finger inside her. She gasped. She realized that she should have expected that. She sighed softly, perhaps letting a more mature, experienced man introduce her to...THAT, but somehow the circumstances did not seem ideal at that moment.

The finger slipped out of her.

He slapped her again, harder, but the sound seemed too loud for such a quick slap.

“But I want to know if I can trust you, Faye."

“You can trust me, Mr. White."

He went around the desk once more and to her surprise, began to free her hands again. She remained standing but leaning over her desk.

“We will have to go somewhere else and I have a few things to do, so can you meet me at the basement parking in, let´s say, thirty minutes?"

“Yes, Mr. White,” she said, more than a little surprised.

“No, you don´t need to put your clothes back on, your coat is long enough. Do I need to confiscate your phone?”

“I need to text a few friends to say that I am out of town.”

“You can do that in the car."

“Yes, Mr. White,“ she said. As she left his office with her coat tightly closed, she smiled at him over her shoulder. She went down to the coffee shop, had a chai latte while wondering what she had gotten herself into.