Taming the Boss by Camryn Eyde

Chapter One
    “Come here.”
    I glared at the woman . I didn’t move. Who did she think she was? The boss of me? My master? I fingered the thin chain around my neck. “I’m not your pet.”
    She cocked her head and smirked as she noticed the movement of my fingers. It was a gift from her. A gift worth more than my monthly pay check. A gift that felt like a collar. It was a symbol of my submissiveness to this woman, but none-the-less, the fine jewelry adorned my neck.
    She walked over and hooked it with her long, manicured finger. “I said, come here, pet ,” she whispered. She tugged on the chain, careful not to exceed its delicate strength, and led me across the room until she was standing in front of her office chair with the back of her legs touching the leathered surface. “On your knees.”
    I remained standing. Testing her and trialing a backbone.
    She tugged the chain towards the floor and I let myself fall. My polyester-covered knees hitting the plush carpet of her office. I’d been here before. On my knees ready to service this woman according to what she dictated on the day. As I knelt by the ostentatious marble desk, the memories of interludes past flooded my mind, and my underwear. Unable to linger for long in my reminiscing, I held back the smile threatening to cover my face and looked up as the next order was issued.
    “Take off my skirt.”
    My mouth watered as I reached up for the hook and zipper combining to keep her tailored pin-stripe business skirt aloft. With the fastenings unhinged and unzipped, the soft material slipped over her silk underskirt with a whispered hush to pool at her ankles. She lifted one foot then the other before retrieving the garment from me and folding it neatly. Repeating the process to disrobe her of the silk underskirt, she smirked down at me and said, “My panties.”
    I hooked my fingers in the elastic waist band and leaned forward on an inhale. I could smell her muskiness, and pulling the slip of lace down her toned thighs, I could see a glistening pool on the fabric that she had already exuded. My sex clenched and twisted in response.
    What this woman does to me .
    I carefully led the panties over her three-inch pumps which I prayed she’d leave on. The stilettoes would hurt as they dug into tender flesh, but the sexual emphasis they added to our experiences was worth every bruise and scrape.
    Placing a towel on her office chair, ever prepared, she sat down like a queen and scowled at me. Opening her legs, she said, “Well?”
    I withheld a smirk. Bossy bitch .
    My hands still on her ankles after removing her lace undergarment, I let my fingers skim lightly up the backs of her calves before tickling behind her knees. She sighed and squirmed a little. I knew she was sensitive there. Too much pressure forced her to kick in discomfort. Just enough made her lick her lips and shift her bottom forward. Shifting for me, I smiled as her eyelids dropped shut while my hands continued their path up her legs. Pushing them along her thighs, my hands sinking into the toned flesh, I let my thumbs skim close to her sex before caressing the crease of her hips. Gripping them, I yanked her forward in an action that I knew would earn me a displeased glare.
    Her eyes snapped open and I smiled at the dirty look sent my way.
    “Careful,” she said, her usual bite softened by my touch.
    I acquiesced with a nod and dragged my hands back down her thighs before pushing her knees apart abruptly. Before she had a chance to scold me again, I dove in and inhaled her. My nose brushed the manicured hair curling above gleaming folds of silky skin. I exhaled with raw desire, and she moaned deep in her throat at the sensation.
    Using my fingers to touch the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs and the creases beside her swollen sex, I gently blew across the hot flesh and was pleased to see goose bumps appear. Willing to play a little longer, I continued to wash warm air over her skin until I heard a