Lady Boss: From Secretary To Mistress

Chanel Preston rarely sits at her desk without an open tab. This afternoon is no exception. She doesn’t notice Casey until the younger woman is already inside, a neat stack of papers under one arm. The intrusion stings. Chanel straightens, irritated, but her expression flattens when she sees what Casey carries. Casey doesn’t smile. She sets the printouts down, right where the screen still glows with half-naked women. “You use the company computer for this?” Chanel swallows. The evidence is printed, dated, literal. HR will see it in seconds. Casey steps closer. “I want your job, and I want you under my thumb.” She opens her palm, the lightest tap against the desktop. “Over my knees, right now.” Chanel’s face burns. Heat coils in her belly as her mind tries to say no. Her body moves anyway. Casey tugs the pantyhose down until the seam rips, cool air hitting wet skin. Two fingers slip inside without ceremony, deliberate and deep. The rhythm stays slow enough to make Chanel’s breath catch and sharp enough to make her hips follow. Every wet sound fills the office. Chanel pushes back against Casey’s hand, forgotten screen glowing uselessly behind them.