Chapter Text
-> So what do you need to know? About me I mean? To do this?
-> Nothing. Actually the less I know the better. Anonymity is part of the fun. A name would be useful though, but it doesn’t have to be your real one
-> Abby
-> Pretty name. It suits you
-> You don’t know me
-> I know you’re bored and you’re lonely and you’re horny, and that’s why you approached me. I know I’ve done this before and you haven’t. And I know that you’re still thinking that you might back out, that you might just log off and pretend this never happened...but you won’t
-> How can you be so sure?
-> Because you need something from me. You need someone to tell you what to do. You need someone to give you what you’ve been missing all this time without knowing it. You need someone to take care of you
-> Is that what you’re going to do?
-> It’s the sole purpose of my existence
-> So...what do I call you?
-> If you need to call me anything, ‘Sir’ will do
-> That makes me feel like I’m back in school
-> Is that a problem?
-> No, Sir
-> Good girl. I’m going to take care of you, Abby. You’ll see
Things might have turned out very differently, Marcus thought later, if it hadn’t rained that day.
The rain had been a spur-of-the-moment inspiration, not part of the initial plan. His plan had been to gently break in his new partner – perhaps a conceit to call her that, but it was the word that always felt most appropriate to him, as ‘lover’ was something of a misnomer where no romance or even physical contact was involved – since she was new to this whole thing. Start out slowly, build her confidence, find out what she liked and what her limits were. He always loved this first part, and the brief conversations he’d had with Abby made him sure he was going to like her very much as they got to know each other better. Know each other better in certain very specific ways, anyway.
The fact that his newest partner had chosen the same name as the gorgeous, infuriating employee who he had a really persistent, irrepressible thing for? Well that was just an added bonus.
The ‘thing’ Marcus had for Abby Griffin – the thing he had been quietly nursing for all the years they’d worked together – was more or less under control these days. Bar the occasional incredibly vivid fantasy about bending her over his desk and fucking her senseless. But the two of them didn’t get on and never had, and so it wasn’t difficult for him to limit the time they had to spend alone in each other’s company at least, and that meant he was fairly certain she was blissfully unaware of any less-than-professional thoughts he might have about her. He was fairly certain she hated him, actually, although due to the level of fucked-up that he was that didn’t actually make her any less appealing to him.
But then, fucked-up was a matter of perspective, wasn’t it? A lot of people would have considered his... personal life a little fucked-up, but it worked for him. He kept it secret of course, but out of a reasonable idea of privacy rather than any kind of shame.
-> When I give you orders I expect them to be carried out. I may ask for evidence of that. What I require from you is total trust, total obedience
-> And if you tell me to do something I don’t want to do?
-> Then you don’t have to do it. But this is over the moment that happens. This is not supposed to be easy, Abby. I’m going to challenge you, to make you do things you’ve never done before. But there is no reward without risk, no pleasure without pain
-> You like causing pain?
-> I like inspiring pleasure. The route to that isn’t always easy for people like us
-> People like us?
-> People who need something a little different to truly make us feel alive
Marcus may not have been the happiest or most fulfilled person in general, but in this at least he had found something that made him feel...well, something that made him feel. He liked that heady sense of power that came from giving orders and having them obeyed without question, of instructing, teaching, punishing when necessary. He liked that sense of control, and if there was one thing he’d learnt in all his time doing this it was that there was no shame in admitting that – it was a fantasy, after all, and always strictly consensual. He had no interest in controlling women beyond the metaphorical bedroom, and no interest whatsoever in entering any kind of relationship with anyone who wasn’t getting just as much out of it as he was. What would be the point?
Because more than anything, what Marcus liked was feeling as though he was giving his partners something they needed. That was really where the pleasure lay in the whole thing for him. He liked to imagine them waiting by their phones, hoping for the next message, wondering what he would do – or ask them to do – next. He liked the idea of being someone’s dirty little secret. He had never been good at real relationships, never been a decent romantic prospect; too cold, too self-contained, too married to his work. But in this role he could let loose, be more himself than he ever dared be in his public life, and he was wanted for it.
It was good to be wanted.
Marcus had met up with a couple of women he’d played this game with, long ago when he had first started dabbling in these particular waters, but it hadn’t gone well. Not that it had gone badly , exactly...the sex had been good, but the sex had been all they had wanted, and all they assumed he wanted. The first had been a middle aged woman who had responded to his orders before they’d met with a cool nerve that had impressed and intrigued him, but in person had treated him as little more than a prostitute, even though no money ever exchanged hands. The other had been even worse – a younger woman who had been so sweet and responsive and eager to learn, but when they had met seemed only guilty and embarrassed, and could barely meet his eyes. They’d slept together anyway, because she had seemed to genuinely want to and looked devastated when he tactfully tried to give her an out, but after what had been a pretty damn good and enthusiastic fuck she had gone back to being guilty and embarrassed again and Marcus had thought: never again.
It was better this way. This way anyone he entered into a relationship with was kept at arm’s length, with him as nothing more than a fantasy. No messy, complicated emotions, no disappointments. This way he could be whatever they wanted him to be. And they could be whoever he imagined them to be.
Until that day when it rained.
For the first time in almost twenty years, Abby Griffin was wearing lingerie.
Really nice, expensive lingerie at that. She had gasped aloud at the price tag when she’d first laid eyes on it in the link her new friend had sent her along with today’s instructions, but he had paid for it up-front, transferred the money straight into her new anonymous account without hesitation. It struck Abby as a remarkably trusting thing to do – after all, he had no way to know she wouldn’t just keep the money and run. He must have been telling the truth about being able to read people well, to know that she wouldn’t.
Or maybe he was just rich enough that a few hundred dollars was something he could easily afford to lose.
Don’t , she told herself sternly. Don’t try and figure out what kind of person he is.
The whole point of this little...arrangement was that it was totally anonymous. He had explained it to her in detail, laying out exactly what was expected from her and what she could expect from him. But the most important thing was that neither of them would ever know any personal details about each other, anything that could identify them. Abby had chosen this particular man-with-an-apparent-fondness-for-red-lingerie because he’d had good reviews on the sites she’d been on, an established reputation. And she had liked him when they’d struck up a conversation too – he had been frank, but not patronising, confident without seeming arrogant. She had enough arrogant men in her life to deal with already.
And now, on his orders, she was heading to work in her usual white blouse and gray pencil skirt (no jacket in the summer months like now, but otherwise her outfit remained identical all year round, as she hadn’t much interest in fashion) with ridiculously fancy underwear concealed beneath. It was crazy, but it did feel kind of different making her morning commute like this, kind of...exciting. And it was surprisingly comfortable too, this gorgeous silk and lace confection in vivid crimson; the bra that pushed her breasts together and made her cleavage look incredible – not that anyone would see it – and the delicate, gauzy little panties that felt like they were barely there at all. There were even garters , which Abby hadn’t trusted at all, but were holding up her sheer stockings pretty well so far. And they made her feel sexy as hell, which she guessed was the point.
What her wealthy benefactor got out of this she wasn’t sure. She had heard of men who liked to spend money on women to feel powerful, so maybe that was part of it. There was also clearly an aspect simply of giving orders and having them obeyed that he enjoyed, since that was the basis of the arrangement they’d made, the same one he’d had with several women before her.
He had asked her for pictures, when she’d first put on the lingerie, and she had obliged – being careful not to show her face, of course. She hadn’t gotten any response since then, but the idea of this man out there in the city somewhere looking at her almost-naked body made her feel a little jittery and excited. She was really doing this...and this was only the beginning.
Abby was so distracted that she nearly missed her usual stop on the train and had to hustle to make it through the doors before they closed. She was already set to be late for work, and her asshole boss didn’t need another excuse to give her a dressing down, something he clearly enjoyed. Still, she couldn’t resist whipping out her phone as soon as she was away from the prying eyes of her fellow train-car passengers to see if she had gotten another message. As she made her way up to street level, however, a familiar sound became clearer with every step, and when she could see the sky outside it confirmed her suspicions. Shit. It was pouring with rain, the kind of sudden cloudburst that summer in the city could bring without warning. She wouldn’t be able to check her phone as she walked in weather like this, so in spite of her lateness she huddled briefly in the entrance of the subway to see if she had received her next instruction, as promised.
-> Don’t use your umbrella
Abby stared at the message, mouth agape. Was he insane? What the hell did this have to do with... anything? It was another block to the office; what part of getting soaked to the skin and miserable on the way to work was sexy?
She bit her lip and glanced out of the subway entrance. He wouldn’t actually be able to tell if she did this anyway, would he? It wasn’t as if he could check up on her....
As if on cue, another message pinged her phone:
-> This relationship is about trust, Abby. It’s about letting go of control and obeying. I need you to do this, not question it
Oh. A test then. A weird one, but he was right – she had signed up for this. And at least it wasn’t cold rain, so it wouldn’t be too uncomfortable. Abby wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. She squared her shoulders and stepped out.
When she arrived at her office building a few minutes later, she was soaked, out of breath from a very undignified dash along the street, and more than a little annoyed. The security guard on duty – a new guy whose name she didn’t yet know – was looking at her askance. Abby forced a smile at him.
“Forgot my umbrella,” she lied. She pulled her hair out of her customary ponytail and used the tie just to hold back the front part, to keep the sodden strands out of her eyes, figuring it would dry faster loose. The security guard was still watching her, presumably appalled at her dripping all over the pristine marble floor of the lobby.
“At least it’s a warm day, I guess I’ll dry out,” she said, trying to overcome the awkwardness of the moment.
The man just stared at her, and Abby started to feel a little annoyed. Was it really so goddamn shocking that a woman arrive to work anything less than utterly pristine? Sure she probably looked pretty bedraggled, but what did it matter to him, anyway?
“Well, have a good day,” she said, a touch frostily, as she walked past and headed to the elevator.
“Uh...right,” said the guard. “Yeah, you too.”
Abby pulled out her phone and sent off a quick message as she walked through the lobby, sensible heels clacking on the marble floor.
-> I’m soaked
The reply came immediately.
-> Good. I’m glad to know my present will be appreciated by everyone
Present? What the hell did he—
The doors to the elevator opened in front of her and as Abby saw her reflection in the mirrored back wall, she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. Oh god. The summer rain had soaked through her thin cotton blouse and made it translucent as the skin of an onion, clinging wetly to her skin. The crimson cups of her bra, with the delicate lace edging and the little silk bow in the middle, were clearly visible through the material...as was the plump swell of her breasts, pushed together and barely contained by her outrageously work-inappropriate underwear choice. No wonder the security guy had stared at her. She looked more like a contestant in an up-market wet t-shirt contest than an employee.
She was late enough to have the elevator to herself, and spent the next twenty floors of the ride plucking futilely at her sodden clothing in an attempt to make herself look more decent, and cursing her new ‘friend’ to hell and back, something that would have been a lot easier if she had actually known his name.
The journey to the floor where she worked couldn’t last forever though, and soon enough she was forced to step out into the corridor, where it was still early enough that there were plenty of people about, still settling down for the day’s work. A lot of whom she knew , and all of whom did a noticeable double take when they saw her. Abby strode as quickly as possible down the corridor towards her office, trying to ignore the raised eyebrows and furtive darting glances at her from behind coffee mugs and laptop screens. One young man goggled openly, his eyes so round he looked like a cartoon character, and in spite of her embarrassment, Abby suddenly found she had to bite her tongue to stop from laughing.
She turned the corner and was barely a few metres from the relative sanctuary of her office when a familiar voice hailed her.
“Abby.”
There was only one person who could put that level of cold scorn into the two short syllables of her name. Abby turned unwillingly around, her smile fading instantly, to face the one person she really didn’t want to see.
Kane. Great.
Her boss was standing just outside his office, and she guessed he’d been waiting to hear her walk past to corner her. Or perhaps had one of his toadies in Accounting phone him to let him know she was on her way. Kane was looking crisply immaculate, as always, in his charcoal gray suit and boring tie. Not one strand of his thick, dark hair out of place, of course, a glaring contrast to the sodden tendrils hanging around her own face. Abby was willing to bet he even ironed those stupid ties.
“Nice to see you’ve finally joined us,” Kane said. “You didn’t bring an umbrella?”
“I forgot,” said Abby curtly, trying to make it sound as much like ‘go fuck yourself’ as she could.
“I see.” To her amazement, Kane’s gaze slipped down from her face to where everyone else’s gaze had been so magnetically drawn. It was only for a split-second, and his eyes snapped back up almost immediately, but it had been unmistakable. The line of his jaw tightened. He opened his mouth as if to say something...and then closed it again. Finally:
“I expect you to be on time for the ten thirty meeting. And better prepared for it than you obviously were for the weather.”
And he turned on his heel and walked back into his office.
Abby stared after him for a few seconds, wishing she had the power to set someone on fire with her glare, and then headed to her own office, her cheeks still burning. Unlike Kane’s, the front wall of her office was all plate glass, so it didn’t give her much of a refuge from being seen by anyone passing by, but at least it technically put a door between her and everyone else in the building, who were doubtless discussing her underwear choices right now.
She pulled out her phone and sent a message.
-> I think my asshole boss just checked me out. This is humiliating
The reply came immediately.
-> Good. I want other people looking at you. I want them to imagine what they can’t have. I want you to drive them crazy
-> I think you’re overestimating my universal appeal
-> You think every man in your building and half the women aren’t thinking about stripping off that wet blouse of yours and really seeing what’s underneath? You think your boss isn’t in his office fantasizing about that right now?
Abby felt the heat rise to her face; a combination of embarrassment and pleasure. She thought again of the little flicker of Kane’s eyes, the sudden tension in his posture. It was one of the only times she had ever gotten a reaction out of him for anything. She felt a perverse little thrill of victory. Still...
-> I don’t think my boss is exactly the type. He despises me
-> Even better. Powerful men always fantasize about fucking the women they feel threatened by
-> How do you know he feels threatened by me?
-> Why else would he despise you?
Abby considered this. It was certainly true that she was one of the few people willing to stand up to Marcus Kane, to tell him when his ideas were bullshit, and she couldn’t say that quality had endeared her to him. She supposed it was within the realm of possibility that he felt threatened by her, although there was no world in which she actually had a chance of getting his job – even she had to admit that he was good at it, and he certainly put the hours in.
Mostly, though, she was pretty sure she just annoyed him. He thought she was too opinionated, too disrespectful, too rash...too eager to take risks if it meant bigger gains, when all Kane ever wanted to do was play things safe. He took his responsibility to the company and the people under his authority very seriously, and had a huge ego to match. The man had probably been born with a stick up his ass, and Abby was unfortunately the type to never be able to take people like that completely seriously. She always wanted to needle, to talk back, to tease. It didn’t make for a very harmonious working relationship.
And, whatever her new friend might think, she doubted any of that would tempt Kane to fantasize about fucking her. Throwing her out of a window when she spoke up in a meeting, maybe. But even that might have been too human an impulse to have occurred to him.
Still. He had looked at her, hadn’t he?
Abby’s phone pinged again.
-> Make him sweat. He wants you and he can’t do a damn thing about it, and it’s driving him crazy. Believe me. You have power over him, Abby. You can have power over anyone you want
-> Even you?
-> Nice try. That’s lesson one, by the way. Enjoy it
Abby stared at the screen of her phone. Then she began to laugh. This was fun. Bizarre, embarrassing, exhilarating, terrifying...and fun . It was only the first day and she was already wearing nicer clothes than she’d had in years, had run through the rain, smiled more on this gloomy Monday morning than she usually did in a whole week...and she hadn’t been drooled over by so many men since she was a teenager. She remembered the security guard’s stammering, the young intern’s soup-plate round eyes, and had to bite her lip to stop her fit of giggles from overwhelming her.
A sharp knock on her door made her look up as Kane walked in – as he inevitably did immediately after knocking – strode across to her desk and placed something on top of it.
“For the meeting later,” he said tersely. He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes. “Callie left it before she went on maternity leave; I doubt she’d mind you borrowing it.”
Abby picked up his offering and realized it was a light suit jacket – a little too big and the wrong shade to match her skirt, but enough to cover her up and give her some semblance of dignity if she couldn’t figure out a way to dry off before the meeting.
“Oh...thanks,” she said, startled out of any kind of sarcastic response. Was this actually a thoughtful gesture? God, she should get her tits out more often.
“I expect you to be in early tomorrow to make up for the twelve minutes you missed this morning,” said Kane. “And more professionally dressed.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked out of her office, leaving Abby glaring after him for the second time that morning. Some things never changed.
What an absolute, unremitting asshole.
If he had been any kind of decent human being, Marcus would have called the whole thing off.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Abby Griffin. It was always the ones you least expected, wasn’t it? And wasn’t he a walking example of that himself? She obviously had no idea that her boss was the same man with whom she had agreed to enter an extremely unusual and intimate relationship – and why should she, when he had spent so many years carefully keeping his work and personal lives rigorously separate?
At work, he knew he had a reputation for being cold, even ruthless. The kindest of his employees would call him ‘firm but fair’. Some just called him ‘that bastard’. He knew exactly which camp Abby Griffin fell into. But he was always strictly professional, even she would have to admit that; he didn’t play favorites, he never lost his temper, he expected the best from the people around him but never gave any less than the best himself too. Maybe he wasn’t much liked , but he was respected.
In his personal relationships though...he didn’t have to be professional. He didn’t have to be fair. He didn’t have to keep that rigid control of his emotions, because that wasn’t what his partners wanted. They wanted someone to surprise them, to excite them, to push them to their limits and punish them if they failed. And he could be human while he did it; he could tease, he could joke, he could flirt. He could be tender. And he could turn on a dime and let his ruthless side out as well, and found they liked that too. He snapped his fingers and they obeyed.
Just the idea of snapping his fingers and having Abby Griffin obeying his every erotic whim did unspeakable things to his thought process. The temptation of it – the sheer, aching, delicious temptation – was downright irresistible, bulldozing through the better angels of his conscience.
It was lunchtime, the day after it rained, and Marcus hadn’t gotten much work done that morning – unusual for him. His mind had been too busy. Half given over to an endless mental tug-of-war about what to do, and half utterly preoccupied with the image of Abby glaring at him, her sodden shirt clinging to her lovely breasts barely contained by the lingerie he’d bought for her. God , she’d looked...
He scrolled through their message history on his phone, and found the words: No, Sir . He imagined them now, in Abby’s velvety, unbearably sexy voice. No, Sir. Abby who argued with him on every point of every project, almost as a matter of principle. Abby, who had photos of her almost-grown-up daughter on her desk, who always took new employees under her protective wing, who was frequently late to work and lived off black coffee, who could have easily been a perfect soccer mom in another life.
You don’t know me.
Marcus groaned, resting his elbows on his desk and rubbing his temples with his hand. She was right – he didn’t know her at all. But god how he wanted to.
He picked up his phone again and sent a quick message. He never gave any warning for these things; either someone was ready, or they were not.
-> You’re in your office?
The reply came immediately.
-> Yes
Marcus had known that, of course, but he was pleased at the speed of response. Abby was ready. Eager. Who was he to deny her? His conscience gave only a slight twinge as he typed the next words:
-> Tell me what you’re wearing
-> White blouse. Grey skirt. 1 ½ inch heels
Marcus grinned, in spite of himself. Tease. She knew full well what he meant.
-> And underneath?
-> My regular bra. It’s white with little embroidered flowers on it
-> And?
-> A pair of those cotton shorts you can get. Like boxers for women? They’re black
And then immediately afterwards, in a tone that came across as slightly defensive even over text:
-> They’re comfortable
Marcus considered this. It had no right to be as sexy as it was. Why the hell was the thought of Abby in plain black cotton shorts somehow even more arousing than the thought of her in lingerie? His cock was already stirring just at the mental image. Still, he had no intention of revealing that to her. It was only a one word reply he sent:
-> Cute
It was the right word; the perfect combination of sincere and slightly patronizing. Abby was a petite, pretty woman, and must have spent her whole life being annoyed at men calling her ‘cute’. It was the right button to press, Marcus knew, to get her just a little riled up, to make her feel as though she had something to prove. He waited for it to sink in and then sent his next message:
-> I find myself in need of entertainment, and I want to test you a little more. So I want you to make yourself come at your desk. Can you do that for me, with just your hands?
It was a lot to ask of someone who was new to this. Marcus hadn't yet got a read on what excited her and what would simply make her uncomfortable. He half expected an ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I’d rather not’ or even ‘My office is plate glass and it’s going to be really difficult to do that without anyone seeing me as they pass’. Instead, the reply that came after only a few seconds of hesitation was:
-> Yes, Sir