Bitchy boss

Ms. Green stayed late that night. The office was quiet except for the hum of the lights above the desk. Her assistant Brandi perched on the edge of the leather chair, skirt riding high on her thighs, mascara already smudged at the corners of her eyes. Ms. Green loosened her blouse until silk spilled open, baring the swell of her breasts. She rounded the desk slowly, her heels striking the floor like a warning. She stopped in front of Brandi and pulled the girl’s knees apart with one unhurried hand. No speech came first. She simply leaned in and set her mouth to Brandi’s pulse, teeth grazing the skin until a gasp slipped free. Fingers found the thin cotton between Brandi’s legs and pressed, hard enough to make the fabric damp before it was pulled aside. Two fingers slid inside—smooth, insistent. Brandi’s head tipped back against the chair, throat exposed, a small moan slipping out when Ms. Green curled those fingers and found the spot that made her hips jerk. Ms. Green withdrew her hand long enough to undo Brandi’s blouse, buttons scattering onto the carpet. She bent to close her mouth over a nipple, biting just enough to sting. One palm pressed Brandi’s sternum, holding her down while the other worked between her legs again, slick fingers moving faster now. Wet sounds filled the room—every thrust a reminder of wasted hours, every grind a command to keep the clientele coming back. Brandi’s legs shook when she came, nails scoring the arms of the chair, but Ms. Green did not stop until the girl was trembling and breathless and properly chastened. Only then did she straighten her own clothes, brush a strand of hair from Brandi’s damp cheek, and murmur that mistakes would no longer be tolerated.