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Pamela Fleming has heard all the rumors about her handsome billionaire boss, Jonathan Daniels. Controlling but brilliant, the devastatingly good-looking hunk has enough arrogance to power an entire city and then some.Thankfully, she has never had reason to cross paths with him. That is, until she unwittingly botches a multimillion dollar deal. Now she realizes that she has to do whatever it takes to keep her job, even if it includes surrendering herself completely to his demands.
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(Billionaire Exhibitionist Bondage)
By Malory Chambers
Copyright 2015 Malory Chambers
. . . . .
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
I ignored the infuriating mixture of disappointed glares and sympathetic glances from my colleagues as I made my way towards the dreaded bosses' office. In all my two years in the company, I have never had reason to visit his office.
Mr. Jonathan Daniels had an imposing presence that was impossible to ignore. I have only ever looked at him from the distance, drinking in his firm muscles and incredible and though my position in the company is all but insignificant, he has never introduced himself to me before.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my white body-fitting dress, specifically chosen to prepare myself for the meeting with the dreaded Mr. Jonathan Daniels, the backbone of the corporation, the man whose voice can command a thousand armies.
The dress hugged my body tightly, making it impossible for anyone to ignore the outline of my full bosom, the curve of my waist, and the tight round ass that I spent many months of painful yoga lessons to achieve. The dress cut short just above my knees and was tight enough to make people wonder if I am wearing any underwear at all. I was, for the record.
As I neared the door, I pulled my dress down a little, allowing me to showcase my cleavage a tad more and hopefully mellow the bosses' mood for me to get away with my mistake multimillion-dollar mistake. I cringed just from the thought alone. I knew that I was lucky to get out of it with my neck.
"Come in," Mr. Jonathan's seductive voice echoed from within the office even before I raised my hand to knock on the hardwood door.
I realized, with dread, that I have listened to many long discussions and heated arguments thunder out of the same room.
The wooden floor made my footsteps echo in the massive room. It looked more like an apartment room than it did an office. There was kitchen sectioned off at a corner, and even a living room, complete with couches and a large TV. I saw several doors that led to other rooms at the corner and felt as if I had entered a different building altogether. It suddenly dawned on me that he lived in the office.
My eyes searched the scene carefully for Mr. Jonathan, but could not find him at all amidst the impeccably clean interior. The decor was minimalistic, yet comfortable. It reminded me of my own apartment, though it is highly possible that I have to let that place go once we are done with the discussion here.
"Mr. Jonathan?" I started, unable to keep the tremble of fear out of my voice.
"Hello Ms. Pamela."
I turned frantically to look for the source of the voice and was surprised to find him sitting leisurely on one of the couches, facing away from me. His dark brown hair was combed neatly and the smooth muscles on his shoulders can be viewed clearly from where I was standing.
"Um... why aren't you wearing... anything?" I asked as I approached him, licking my lips when I saw the size of his semi-erect manhood.
"I am wearing a blindfold," he said.
"That's not- umm..." I stuttered, completely out of my comfort zone. So way out that I have no idea whether I should be joining him on the couch, or making notes for a sexual harassment suite.
"I am brainstorming for my next multimillion dollar project, since you have quite completely obliterated the last one," he said finally, shattering the awkward silence between us and introducing a topic that was even more awkward to me.
I gulped, "About that," I started, "I'm so sorry."
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