I was at my desk in the early evening, shuffling through some papers. I had the phone propped against my ear. I was trying to look busy but I was distracted.
He was growling into my ear, telling me all of the things he wants to do to me. I was quiet except for occasional murmurs. I couldn't melt into my chair like I wanted to do, nor could I address him as "Sir" like I know he expected.
But he knew that he was getting to me. I was quiet, but he knew. He kept talking until I was lulled into a trance. His words were so cruel and sadistic, but I felt calm, like he had laid a heavy blanket over me.
"You love this, don't you?," he cooed.
"Yes," I whispered, afraid to say any more.
"I can tell. I can hear it in your breathing. I can hear your submission. I can hear the change in your voice."
I sighed and let his words wash over me. Outside my office door, the busy day continued but I remained still at my desk. I breathed in and out, shallow expectant breaths.
"Listen to what I can do to you," he whispered. "I love what I can do to you."