The Mailboy's Unexpected Submissive

The Mailboy

- Ripley's POV -

Working is a curse for some, a necessity for others, and for a select few - including myself - a mixture between a blessing and a joy.

I love my job no matter what others may say or think of it. I'm a mailboy, and before you start thinking I'm some kind of male, mail delivery stripper, or something, let me explain to you what it is since I am NOT a stripper.

I work as the second head boss in the mailroom of the world's best publishing company with respect to anything having to do with writing, no matter the type or form. Because I am just under the head, I am known as a mailboy instead of postmaster since I don't have that exact job position, yet I control everything that occurs down in the sleek, modern black mailroom. I'm fine with my title and job position even if I would earn a few extra dollars by having the official title of postmaster, but oh well, not like it matters to me, especially considering the fact that I pretty much do that job as well.

I walked around the busy, jam-packed mailroom, surveying all of the clerks and other employees, checking to see that they were doing their jobs like they were supposed to, but secretly hoping that someone wouldn't be so that I could exercise my control on them.

It may seem weird to some how I look for reasons to punish my coworkers, but it is just a necessity of mine since I am a dominant and am involved in BDSM which is more than shocking to most who first look at me.

I'm twenty-two years old, with a lean body, tanned skin, sea-colored eyes, semi-curly blonde hair depending on the day, and I stand at a whopping height of...five feet, five inches. Yeah, I'm pretty small hence why my being a dominant is so hard to believe, but I am one through and through.

As I walked around, I heard a series of cuss words being attempted to be hushed to not be heard, but I did, and I was not happy.

I turned to see a coworker of mine who has done nothing but caused trouble since he first started working for QSP, Jon Mark. He was always mixing up the mail, delivering it to the wrong individuals, and just causing more work than was necessary, aggravating everyone.

Right now was no different, I noted as I walked up to see him attempting to sort through a tall stack of mail, only making it all come together since his piles weren't even and were close together. Not to mention the fact that he was eating a chocolate cupcake at the same time, his fingers stained with the chocolate as he moved through the mail, angering me.

"Jon!" I growled, making him jump in his seat before turning around to look at me, terror in his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"S-Sorting the mail?" He said uncertainly which he had every right to do so.

"No, you're not. You're making a mess like usual."

"I-I'm s-sorry, Ripl-"

"It's Mr. Haze, Jon. I've told you that many times before. You don't address me as anything other than Mr. Haze," I cut him off, my nostrils flaring in anger.

He narrowed his eyes at me, his own nostrils flaring in anger as his lip curled back with a snarl.

"You know what? I've fucking fed up with this shit! You look like a god damn child and yet you think you can tell me what to do!" He shouted at me, making the entire mailroom fall silent as I crossed my arms, looking at him with an emotionless face.

"I am one of your superiors making it my job to tell you what you are supposed to do. But then again, when I, or any of the other supervisors and such, tell you what to do, you never do it, or if you do, you mess it up so badly that it takes hours to correct," I spoke evenly.

"Fuck you! You're like fucking Napolean, that little tyrant shit who had fucking issues!"

I don't even know what he's going on about now, but I've had enough of it.

"Yeah, sure. Anyway, Jon, you're fired so take your things and leave. Immediately," I said, sending him a harsh glare.

"Fired?! You're firing me?! Fuck that! I quit!" He said, quickly gathering his things.

"Sure, whatever you would like so long as you get your things together, leave, and don't come back."

With that, he turned shot me another glare, continuing to curse me out even as he stomped away angrily.

"He's so fucking lucky he isn't my sub because I would have beaten his ass black and blue for acting like that," I muttered to myself, making sure no one heard me as I turned back around.

The moment I turned back around, I caught sight of all the other workers jerking back around to continue working as if they hadn't sat silent and watched the scene unfold like I already knew they had.

Xora, my best and only friend - by choice - walked up to me with a smile on her lips.

"Even though everyone else is shit scared of you and won't say anything, they're all happy you fired Jon since they're sick of his shit," she laughed.

"Trust me, I feel the same. I did everyone a favor by getting rid of him, but now I have to go file the paperwork," I scowled, walking off with the sound of her laughter trailing behind me as I went.