The Plan

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Angelina

I heard the elevator arrive behind me, and I bent over my desk, pretending to be shuffling through some documents.

The skin tight, high-waisted skirt I was wearing was riding up around my thighs, barely covering the thong I wore, with knee high black stockings straining against my flesh. That fantasy of what would happen when Dimitri found me in this position ran through my head for the thousandth time.

Though the plush carpet muffled his footsteps, I was hyper-aware of Dimitri coming up behind me - and furthermore, he knew that I knew he was there. Though he didn't touch me, I could feel his hand ghosting around the curve of my ass.

"Good Morning, Mr. Markov," I said in a voice so calm I deserved an Oscar, "Did you have a pleasant weekend?"

Abruptly, I felt his hand come down on my ass, a hard slap that made me jump in surprise. Then I saw, out of the corner of my eye, him drop his brief case next to my desk in preparation.

"How on Earth was I supposed to have a pleasant weekend, Miss. Jones? When I knew that what is mine was being paraded around on Friday night?" his voice was as calm as mine, but I could hear the rage simmering underneath.

I was confused by what he meant, and I made the mistake of trying to stand upright. Before I could more then attempt to move, Dimitri's chest was pressed into my back, his iron-hard forearms wrapped around my middle in an unbreakable embrace.

"First you parade around at Virtigo in a dress that, my brother tells me, made you look "fûçkable", and now you're trying to move without me telling you to do so. I'm going to teach you a lesson, Miss. Jones. Can you guess what it is?"

His hot breath on my ear was causing me to shiver, and when I took too long to answer he bit down on my lobe - hard.

"I'm yours," I gasped at the pain and the arousal it caused. "That's the lesson - that I'm yours." He quickly sucked on the bite, easing the sting, before he stepped back.

"Very good, Miss. Jones. Though, I'm afraid, that won't get you out of your punishment. Now take off that skirt and bend over the desk like a good girl."

Shakily, I lowered the zip of my skirt, stepping out of it and resuming my position. I heard him let out a low groan at the sight of me bent over in a thong and knee highs, before his pale, long-fingered hand snaked into view, picking up the ruler off my desk.

"Moan for me, Miss. Jones."

The ruler came down across my àss, hard enough that I felt the sting, but pleasurable enough that I felt liquid pooling in my panties.

He brought it down twice more, and by the third time, I had to bite my lip to muffle my moan. Dimitri paused, knowing I had held back.

"You're going to defy me, then? If you keep that up, I'll hold off your release until you're begging me on your füćking knees."

The ruler was brought down six more times, and by then I was desperate to rub my legs together - anything to ease the throbbing between them.

"Are you wet for me, Miss. Jones?"

"Ye-yes, Mr. Markov." That most definitely came out as a moan.

"Hmm. Let's see, shall we?" Then he brought the ruler up between my legs and lightly spanked my clît.

The moan I let out this time was apparently loud enough to satisfy him, because abruptly he was pressed over me, his hard length against my ass.

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