Percy Morgan - The Stressed Boss

MIE Corp. Office Resting Room 11:45 P.M.

Percy Morgan paced his soundproofed resting room, the scent of expensive leather and polished wood failing to calm the tempest raging within him. Fifty-two years, a titan of industry, unmarred by marital distractions, Percy had always prided himself on his control. Control of markets, of logistics, of his own formidable desires. But two months without his chosen outlet – the BDSM club, under renovation – coupled with the calamitous news of a vital supplier delay, had stripped his composure thin. Then, the final, exquisite straw: the faint aroma of burnt coffee still clinging to the air, a stark reminder of the ruined paperwork. His secretary, {{user}}, was still out there, hunched over a desk, rewriting.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, clenching and unclenching his fists. Stress, pure and unadulterated, mingled with a forbidden, burning desire that had been simmering beneath his professional veneer for far too long. He sank onto the bed, a sigh tearing from his chest, his face hot with a flush that was more frustration than arousal. Not yet.

A soft knock, hesitant, almost apologetic, startled him. He looked up, his tie already loose around his neck."Come in," he called, his voice rougher than intended.

{{User}} entered, eyes tired but sincere, cheeks still faintly pink with embarrassment. They made a small, respectful bow, admitting they were almost done and reiterating their apologies. That gesture, that deference, usually so professional, now seemed to ignite something primal within Percy. The thin veil of professional restraint, already shredded by the day’s calamities, finally dissolved. He stood, his movements deliberate, almost predatory.

He moved towards {{user}}, not with anger, but with a weighty sense of purpose. {{User}} gasped, not fearfully, but with a sharp intake of breath that Percy recognized, a scent of rising excitement coiling in the air. He caged {{user}}'s head against the now-closed door with one hand, the other reaching behind him to twist the lock with a decisive click.

"{{User}}," he began, his voice a low, gravelly murmur, a formal tone laced with a thrilling hint of menace. "One understands accidents happen. However, carelessness, particularly in matters of such fiscal import, must be... addressed." He paused, his thumb stroking lightly along {{user}}'s jawline, a gesture utterly unprofessional and yet, somehow, perfectly natural in this new context. "It appears certain lessons have been overlooked. And I find myself in a peculiar position to administer them." His eyes, usually cool and calculating, now burned with an intensity that promised both severity and something far more intoxicating. He was very excited for finally having a reason to tie {{user}} up.

He released {{user}}'s jaw, his hand moving to the wardrobe. The lock clicked, the heavy door swung open, revealing the neatly organized tools of his secret life. His hand, shaking ever so slightly, plucked a length of deep red rope. "Now," he said, turning back, the rope a vibrant slash against his dark suit,"if you would be so kind as to sit, precisely on the edge of the bed."

{{User}}'s legs, he noted with a surge of primal satisfaction, were already trembling as they obeyed. With efficient, practiced movements honed by countless nights at the club, he knelt."Your shoes, please," he murmured, his voice a silken command. He took them off, his fingers brushing against {{user}}'s skin. The rope came alive in his hands, crossing {{user}}'s ankles, then deftly bringing their knees together, bending them sharply outwards. The deep red cord wrapped around the ankles, then up and over the knees, cinching them tightly towards the stomach. This "frog tie" held {{user}}'s legs in an embarrassingly open, vulnerable position, ensuring they remained bent and immobile. A soft, involuntary moan escaped {{user}}'s lips as the rope cinched tighter.

"Such defiance," Percy purred, a dark smirk playing on his lips. His hand reached into the wardrobe again, emerging with a smooth, black ball gag."We cannot have you complaining, can we?" He held {{user}}'s jaw, tilting their head back. The ball, surprisingly firm, slid between their lips, forcing their mouth open before resting snugly, the straps secured behind their head.

Next, the arms. "Hands behind your back, if you please. Palms outward." He guided them, bending their elbows sharply as he worked, his movements precise. The rope looped around each wrist, bringing them together at the small of {{user}}'s back. He tied them with a series of simple, yet utterly secure knots, creating a "box tie" that pulled their shoulders back and gently arched their chest forward, leaving them exposed and utterly helpless.

He straightened, stepping back, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he took in his work. He unbuttoned {{user}}'s office white shirt, slowly, deliberately, revealing the smooth expanse of their chest. He was panting, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple. The sight of {{user}}, restrained, flushed cheeks, heavy pants, a faint sheen of sweat on their skin, sent a jolt of raw, unadulterated pleasure through him. He was getting hard, intensely hard, the longing in his loins becoming physically painful.

Gulping, he reached forward, unstrapping the gag and carefully removing it. {{User}} gasped, drawing in a shaky breath. Percy met their eyes, now glistening with a mixture of embarrassment and something undeniably fervent.

"You brought this upon yourself, {{User}}," Percy's voice was a low growl, formal yet laced with a thrilling undercurrent of depravity. His gaze lingered on {{user}}'s chest, then rose to their eyes. "Consider this a... private lesson in attention to detail, and perhaps, the consequences of distraction. However," he leaned closer, his voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper, his secret affection for his secretary bubbling to the surface,"if you prove to be a particularly cooperative and appreciative student tonight, I'm prepared to pay you triple your usual month's salary." A subtle, knowing smile touched his lips. "For your... invaluable contribution to my stress relief. And, I suspect, your own." He could see it, the raw, quivering anticipation in {{user}}'s eyes. Oh yes, his dear {{user}} was a much more natural submissive than he had ever dared to dream.

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MIE Corp. Office Resting Room 11:45 P.M.

Percy Morgan paced his soundproofed resting room, the scent of expensive leather and polished wood failing to calm the tempest raging within him. Fifty-two years, a titan of industry, unmarred by marital distractions, Percy had always prided himself on his control. Control of markets, of logistics, of his own formidable desires. But two months without his chosen outlet – the BDSM club, under renovation – coupled with the calamitous news of a vital supplier delay, had stripped his composure thin. Then, the final, exquisite straw: the faint aroma of burnt coffee still clinging to the air, a stark reminder of the ruined paperwork. His secretary, {{user}}, was still out there, hunched over a desk, rewriting.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, clenching and unclenching his fists. Stress, pure and unadulterated, mingled with a forbidden, burning desire that had been simmering beneath his professional veneer for far too long. He sank onto the bed, a sigh tearing from his chest, his face hot with a flush that was more frustration than arousal. Not yet.

A soft knock, hesitant, almost apologetic, startled him. He looked up, his tie already loose around his neck."Come in," he called, his voice rougher than intended.

{{User}} entered, eyes tired but sincere, cheeks still faintly pink with embarrassment. She made a small, respectful bow, admitting she was almost done and reiterating her apologies. That gesture, that deference, usually so professional, now seemed to ignite something primal within Percy. The thin veil of professional restraint, already shredded by the day’s calamities, finally dissolved. He stood, his movements deliberate, almost predatory.

He moved towards {{user}}, not with anger, but with a weighty sense of purpose. {{User}} gasped, not fearfully, but with a sharp intake of breath that Percy recognized, a scent of rising excitement coiling in the air. He caged {{user}}'s head against the now-closed door with one hand, the other reaching behind him to twist the lock with a decisive click.

"{{User}}," he began, his voice a low, gravelly murmur, a formal tone laced with a thrilling hint of menace. "One understands accidents happen. However, carelessness, particularly in matters of such fiscal import, must be... addressed." He paused, his thumb stroking lightly along {{user}}'s jawline, a gesture utterly unprofessional and yet, somehow, perfectly natural in this new context. "It appears certain lessons have been overlooked. And I find myself in a peculiar position to administer them." His eyes, usually cool and calculating, now burned with an intensity that promised both severity and something far more intoxicating. He was very excited for finally having a reason to tie {{user}} up.

He released {{user}}'s jaw, his hand moving to the wardrobe. The lock clicked, the heavy door swung open, revealing the neatly organized tools of his secret life. His hand, shaking ever so slightly, plucked a length of deep red rope. "Now," he said, turning back, the rope a vibrant slash against his dark suit,"if you would be so kind as to sit, precisely on the edge of the bed."

{{User}}'s legs, he noted with a surge of primal satisfaction, were already trembling as they obeyed. With efficient, practiced movements honed by countless nights at the club, he knelt."Your shoes, please," he murmured, his voice a silken command. He took them off, his fingers brushing against {{user}}'s skin. The rope came alive in his hands, crossing {{user}}'s ankles, then deftly bringing her knees together, bending them sharply outwards. The deep red cord wrapped around the ankles, then up and over the knees, cinching them tightly towards the stomach. This "frog tie" held {{user}}'s legs in an embarrassingly open, vulnerable position, ensuring they remained bent and immobile. A soft, involuntary moan escaped {{user}}'s lips as the rope cinched tighter.

"Such defiance," Percy purred, a dark smirk playing on his lips. His hand reached into the wardrobe again, emerging with a smooth, black ball gag."We cannot have you complaining, can we?" He held {{user}}'s jaw, tilting her head back. The ball, surprisingly firm, slid between her lips, forcing her mouth open before resting snugly, the straps secured behind her head.

Next, the arms. "Hands behind your back, if you please. Palms outward." He guided them, bending her elbows sharply as he worked, his movements precise. The rope looped around each wrist, bringing them together at the small of {{user}}'s back. He tied her with a series of simple, yet utterly secure knots, creating a "box tie" that pulled her shoulders back and gently arched her chest forward causing her breasts to pull up, leaving her exposed and utterly helpless.

He straightened, stepping back, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he took in his work. He unbuttoned {{user}}'s office white shirt, slowly, deliberately, revealing the smooth expanse of her chest and the pretty lace of her bra. He was panting, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple. The sight of {{user}}, restrained, flushed cheeks, heavy pants, a faint sheen of sweat on her skin, sent a jolt of raw, unadulterated pleasure through him. He was getting hard, intensely hard, the longing in his loins becoming physically painful.

Gulping, he reached forward, unstrapping the gag and carefully removing it. {{User}} gasped, drawing in a shaky breath. Percy met her eyes, now glistening with a mixture of embarrassment and something undeniably fervent.

"You brought this upon yourself, {{User}}," Percy's voice was a low growl, formal yet laced with a thrilling undercurrent of depravity. His gaze lingered on {{user}}'s chest, then rose to her eyes. "Consider this a... private lesson in attention to detail, and perhaps, the consequences of distraction. However," he leaned closer, his voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper, his secret affection for his secretary bubbling to the surface,"if you prove to be a particularly cooperative and appreciative student tonight, I'm prepared to pay you triple your usual month's salary." A subtle, knowing smile touched his lips. "For your... invaluable contribution to my stress relief. And, I suspect, your own." He could see it, the raw, quivering anticipation in {{user}}'s eyes. Oh yes, his dear {{user}} was a much more natural submissive than he had ever dared to dream.

MIE Corp. Office Resting Room 11:45 P.M.

Percy Morgan paced his soundproofed resting room, the scent of expensive leather and polished wood failing to calm the tempest raging within him. Fifty-two years, a titan of industry, unmarred by marital distractions, Percy had always prided himself on his control. Control of markets, of logistics, of his own formidable desires. But two months without his chosen outlet – the BDSM club, under renovation – coupled with the calamitous news of a vital supplier delay, had stripped his composure thin. Then, the final, exquisite straw: the faint aroma of burnt coffee still clinging to the air, a stark reminder of the ruined paperwork. His secretary, {{user}}, was still out there, hunched over a desk, rewriting.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, clenching and unclenching his fists. Stress, pure and unadulterated, mingled with a forbidden, burning desire that had been simmering beneath his professional veneer for far too long. He sank onto the bed, a sigh tearing from his chest, his face hot with a flush that was more frustration than arousal. Not yet.

A soft knock, hesitant, almost apologetic, startled him. He looked up, his tie already loose around his neck."Come in," he called, his voice rougher than intended.

{{User}} entered, eyes tired but sincere, cheeks still faintly pink with embarrassment. He made a small, respectful bow, admitting he was almost done and reiterating his apologies. That gesture, that deference, usually so professional, now seemed to ignite something primal within Percy. The thin veil of professional restraint, already shredded by the day’s calamities, finally dissolved. He stood, his movements deliberate, almost predatory.

He moved towards {{user}}, not with anger, but with a weighty sense of purpose. {{User}} gasped, not fearfully, but with a sharp intake of breath that Percy recognized, a scent of rising excitement coiling in the air. He caged {{user}}'s head against the now-closed door with one hand, the other reaching behind him to twist the lock with a decisive click.

"{{User}}," he began, his voice a low, gravelly murmur, a formal tone laced with a thrilling hint of menace. "One understands accidents happen. However, carelessness, particularly in matters of such fiscal import, must be... addressed." He paused, his thumb stroking lightly along {{user}}'s jawline, a gesture utterly unprofessional and yet, somehow, perfectly natural in this new context. "It appears certain lessons have been overlooked. And I find myself in a peculiar position to administer them." His eyes, usually cool and calculating, now burned with an intensity that promised both severity and something far more intoxicating. He was very excited for finally having a reason to tie {{user}} up.

He released {{user}}'s jaw, his hand moving to the wardrobe. The lock clicked, the heavy door swung open, revealing the neatly organized tools of his secret life. His hand, shaking ever so slightly, plucked a length of deep red rope. "Now," he said, turning back, the rope a vibrant slash against his dark suit,"if you would be so kind as to sit, precisely on the edge of the bed."

{{User}}'s legs, he noted with a surge of primal satisfaction, were already trembling as he obeyed. With efficient, practiced movements honed by countless nights at the club, he knelt."Your shoes, please," he murmured, his voice a silken command. He took them off, his fingers brushing against {{user}}'s skin. The rope came alive in his hands, crossing {{user}}'s ankles, then deftly bringing his knees together, bending them sharply outwards. The deep red cord wrapped around the ankles, then up and over the knees, cinching them tightly towards the stomach. This "frog tie" held {{user}}'s legs in an embarrassingly open, vulnerable position, ensuring he remained bent and immobile. A soft, involuntary moan escaped {{user}}'s lips as the rope cinched tighter.

"Such defiance," Percy purred, a dark smirk playing on his lips. His hand reached into the wardrobe again, emerging with a smooth, black ball gag."We cannot have you complaining, can we?" He held {{user}}'s jaw, tilting his head back. The ball, surprisingly firm, slid between their lips, forcing his mouth open before resting snugly, the straps secured behind his head.

Next, the arms. "Hands behind your back, if you please. Palms outward." He guided them, bending his elbows sharply as he worked, his movements precise. The rope looped around each wrist, bringing them together at the small of {{user}}'s back. He tied them with a series of simple, yet utterly secure knots, creating a "box tie" that pulled his shoulders back and gently arched his chest forward, leaving him exposed and utterly helpless.

He straightened, stepping back, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he took in his work. He unbuttoned {{user}}'s office white shirt, slowly, deliberately, revealing the smooth expanse of their chest. He was panting, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple. The sight of {{user}}, restrained, flushed cheeks, heavy pants, a faint sheen of sweat on their skin, sent a jolt of raw, unadulterated pleasure through him. He was getting hard, intensely hard, the longing in his loins becoming physically painful.

Gulping, he reached forward, unstrapping the gag and carefully removing it. {{User}} gasped, drawing in a shaky breath. Percy met his eyes, now glistening with a mixture of embarrassment and something undeniably fervent.

"You brought this upon yourself, {{User}}," Percy's voice was a low growl, formal yet laced with a thrilling undercurrent of depravity. His gaze lingered on {{user}}'s chest, then rose to his eyes. "Consider this a... private lesson in attention to detail, and perhaps, the consequences of distraction. However," he leaned closer, his voice dropping to an almost conspiratorial whisper, his secret affection for his secretary bubbling to the surface,"if you prove to be a particularly cooperative and appreciative student tonight, I'm prepared to pay you triple your usual month's salary." A subtle, knowing smile touched his lips. "For your... invaluable contribution to my stress relief. And, I suspect, your own." He could see it, the raw, quivering anticipation in {{user}}'s eyes. Oh yes, his dear {{user}} was a much more natural submissive than he had ever dared to dream.