It was a normal Tuesday at work until Mr. Jones asked me into his office. He was my boss, older than me, good-looking, and definitely in control of his company... and I had a crush on him since the day he hired me at his marketing firm. He put me in charge of supplies for the office, things like paper, pens, printer ink, coffee, etc., and it was my job to make sure nothing ever ran out. Whenever he called me into his office, I got a little wet with anticipation, hoping that maybe this was the day my flirtations paid off and he would make a move on me. But it was just wishful thinking, until something changed.

Whenever Mr. Jones called me in, he closed the door, but he had never said or done anything that encouraged me. I was always hopeful, but this time he also turned up the soft music he always had on for background in his office. Was he turning it up to cover our conversation? But why, unless he had something untoward to share? I became very hopeful that he was planning to do something with me, and I started to get very wet with desire.

Then he moved behind the chair where I sat, placed his hands on my shoulders, and spoke.

"Do you like working for me?" he asked as he gently massaged above my arms.

"Yes, sir," I said, wondering where this was going.

"Good. So, would you like us to be closer?"

"Yes, sir," I answered, more hopeful than ever.

"And maybe even intimate?" he inquired.

"Yes, if you want, sir," I answered after a short pause, with a combination of excitement and uncertainty in my voice. I felt a burst of my juices leak into my panties.

"Will you be submissive to my needs?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I answered. I was so aroused by the sudden turn of events that I could only think of pleasing him.

"Good!" he answered.

Then he reached around me from behind and grabbed my breasts; I jumped a little at the surprise as he fondled my breasts over my blouse.

"Then I'd like to think of you as my personal slut, and you'll do as I ask, won't you?" he questioned.

"Yes, sir," I answered, so turned on by where he was going with this conversation that I would have said anything. I felt another uncontrolled leak of my juices and was sure my panties were soaking.

"Very good!" he replied; then he paused.

"That will be all for now. We'll talk on Friday," he said, ending our conversation.

I was so deflated as I left his office, unhappy that he didn't do anything more after he fondled my tits. But I was thrilled that he wanted me as his "personal slut", which sounded good, though maybe a bit risky. Guess I'd find out on Friday. And my horny pussy would just have to wait.

But that night in bed, all I could think of was Mr. Jones making me his slut, and wondering what he would do with me. I got so turned on thinking of the possibilities that I got my vibrator out and did myself as hard as I could, pressing it to my clit until I squirmed uncontrollably and came. But it was lacking something: Mr. Jones. I couldn't wait until Friday.

And I wondered: Did Mr. Jones seduce me with his power and good looks, or did I seduce him with my flirting and submissive side? Maybe it was a bit of both.

~~~~~

On Friday morning, Mr. Jones notified me that I was to stop by the office at quitting time, and to plan to be there for at least a half hour. I was floating on clouds all day thinking about it. It sounded like "personal slut" time, and I couldn't wait to find out what he had in mind. I arrived on time, my pussy already wet with anticipation. The time had come to find out what I'd gotten myself into.

"Thank you for coming," he said as he closed and locked the door behind me, which made me hopeful. Then he closed the blinds before speaking to me, and I was sure this was it.

"Just remain standing and undress for me," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," I obediently answered, my juices suddenly leaking into my panties as the time I'd waited for had finally come.

I was surprised at the speed with which he was moving, though: no courtship or niceties, just right to sex. But I did as he asked and took my blouse off, followed by my bra. I was living my dream, but it was a little faster and more "real" than I expected.

"Keep going," he said as he admired my breasts.

After I had removed my sandals and skirt, I stood before him in my black panties, which I was sure had a wet spot over my snatch. He looked at my body, which was lean and athletic, and he seemed to approve. Then he told me to finish undressing, so I slipped my panties off and stepped out of them.

Once I was naked, with my skirt, blouse, bra, and panties safely laid across the credenza by Mr. Jones, he sat in an armless guest chair and called me to him, then pulled me down and over his lap. Lying across his knees, he massaged my rear with his right hand while he reached under me with his left hand and played with my suspended breasts, rolling my nipples and pinching them; it was very arousing. Then he spanked me liberally, hard enough to hurt, but not so hard that it wasn't a major turn-on. And once he had me excited, and even wetter than I was, he spread my legs and went after my pussy. He opened my labia, ran his fingers up and down my slit, and teased my clit. I squirmed as I felt all the trappings of an orgasm building, majorly aroused with my juices flowing, and I was soon ready to cum. But then he stopped.

I was so turned on that it hurt to stop, and making me wait was torment. When he resumed, he again brought me to the brink of orgasm, and then stopped again. I realized he was teasing me with a series of orgasm denial moves: turn me on and then let me stew. He did this several more times, leaving me a wreck of sexual desire, craving more, and wanting his cock in me at any cost. And he knew exactly what he was doing to me, the sly devil!

"Now get up and sit on the edge of my desk," he ordered.

I complied. Then he moved everything on his desk to the side and told me to lie back with my rear near the edge. I did as he asked, and then he opened my legs and bent them at the knees, placing my feet on the desk beside my pussy, my legs forming a Vee; my cunt was now totally exposed to him. While I waited for his next move, he took a riding crop from his desk drawer.

Exposed and feeling quite helpless, I shivered as he teased my pussy with the crop, dragging the leather tip lightly across my labia.

"Does my little office slut like this?" he asked with a smile.

"Yes, sir," I replied, so horny by now I would have said "yes" to anything.

"Would you like more?" he asked slyly.

It seemed that it wouldn't matter if I said yes or no; I was going to get more either way.

But I wanted it, and said, "Yes, sir. Please!"

So he swatted my inner thighs rather hard, and the pain made me squirm on the desk. I started to rock back and forth as he smacked my tender skin, slowly moving toward my crotch, until he reached my pussy. Mr. Jones knew exactly how to swat me so that he inflicted pain that also aroused me. He smacked my pink inner folds to make me moan, and added a swat on my clit now and then to make me jerk and let out a small scream. As my arousal increased, he focused on my clit, hitting it repeatedly until I screamed in pain that morphed somehow into intense pleasure. He continued until I couldn't take any more, my soaking pussy aching for relief, and I erupted in orgasm, my juices flowing all over his desk. He didn't stop, but continued to smack my clit to force me to enjoy several more orgasms, until I was completely exhausted.

Then he dropped his pants and briefs, placed my legs on his shoulders, and pulled my rear to the edge of the desk before he impaled me with his long, thick cock, driving deep while I lay virtually helpless. He pumped into me relentlessly as I squirmed on the desk before him. His thrusts filled me and pressed on my cervix, eventually driving me to another orgasm. I was so spent I had nothing left by the time he groaned and came, pumping me full of his spunk. Then he pulled out, his jism leaking onto his desk with the remainder of my juices.

After he withdrew, he stood up and walked around the desk, had me lower my head, and he put his cock near my mouth.

"Time to clean up the mess you've caused," Mr. Jones ordered.

He pushed his cock to my mouth, and I took it in. It tasted of his salty semen and a bit of my sweet pussy, and I enjoyed cleaning him with my tongue. When I was done, he helped me up. We both did a final wipe with tissues, and then he watched as I cleaned our juices off his desk, admiring the pussy he'd just fucked every time I bent over.

"I'll be needing you to come by here each Friday at quitting time to satisfy my needs. That'll be okay, won't it, my little slut?" Mr. Jones asked as we both got dressed.

"Yes, sir. I'd love that!" I answered, thrilled that I had satisfied him and that he wanted to have me again.

I put the boss's stuff back where it was on his desk, eliminating the evidence of our encounter, then left his office and went home.

~~~~~

Later at bedtime, my usual nightly itch hit my pussy, and I knew I needed to feel the kind of arousal Mr. Jones gave me. Knowing I'd never make it to next Friday if I didn't do something, I had no choice but to get my vibrator out, lie spread open in a Vee on the bed, as he had done to me, and buzz myself to a fine squirming orgasm. I did just that, and buzzed myself until I was beyond turned on while I imagined Mr. Jones doing it to me. When I was so aroused that I couldn't take any more, I went one step further and buzzed my clit directly until I screamed and came. The orgasm was so satisfying that I fell asleep in minutes and slept like a babe.

When Friday finally came, after a week of doing myself every night just to get by, I headed to Mr. Jones' office at quitting time. On entering, he greeted me, closed and locked the door, and shut the blinds.

Just like last time, he wasted no time in getting right to the sex. He ordered me to strip, then took me over his knee. He again spent a few minutes fondling my suspended breasts and pinching and pulling on my nipples, which turned me on more than I expected. After spanking me hard and further arousing me, he diddled my pussy before he took me to his desk. Mr. Jones put a spreader bar on my ankles and bent me over his desk face down, massaged my rear (with some strong pinches thrown in), and then dropped his slacks and briefs and slapped my pussy with upward smacks of his penis. He had me so turned on that when he was ready to penetrate me, his cock slid into my well-lubed cunt without difficulty. He fucked me hard and deep, driving me to moan and even scream, and when he filled me with his hot spunk, I jerked and came repeatedly.

On finishing, he again moved around the desk to my head and put his dick by my mouth for me to lick him clean, which I did. When I was done, he helped me up, and we both wiped a final time and got dressed. Then I left.

~~~~~

Every Friday became some variation of the same sequence. An over-the-knee spanking and pussy play, some sort of nipple play, and then fucking at his desk. He always got me intensely turned on, and my orgasms were strong and frequent. We always made a mess of his desk, and I had to lick him clean before I wiped his desk spotless, all while still naked. He loved watching me clean up and studied every move that exposed my pussy, so I always made sure to show him plenty. I loved being his submissive slut, and how he turned me on with nipple and pussy play, spankings by hand, riding crop and flogger, and how he fucked me at his desk.

And every night when I wasn't with him, I wanted to relive the experience, so I lay on my bed and did what I could to replicate what he did to me on Fridays. It was never the same, of course, but I still got so turned on I came with satisfying orgasms, and slept all through the night.

The sex became our secret routine. Mr. Jones never asked me out, and he never dated anyone else as far as I knew, but we always had our weekly rendezvous, every Friday at quitting time. It was wonderful, and it always left me with enough desire to fuel my masturbations all week long.