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My Boss, My Master – Part 4 – AnticipationThank you to all those who have given your kind comments and encouragement! I hammered this out pretty fast today, sort of an interim chapter to set up some events that were suggested to me by someone… I think you’ll all like where it’s going for poor hapless Lucy!This story is a work of fiction. Constructive feedback is welcomed, as are suggestions and requests. Leave a comment or send me a message. I don’t bite… unless you let me. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.I’m going to try to avoid some of the words that xhamster ***’s out, such as f.a.mily, s.i.ster, f.orce, etc, but in places you’ll just have to bear with it.Mr. Smith fucked me. That’s really the only way to say it. While I was feeling the effects of his whispered, hot-breathed praise, he shoved his cock inside me. While I was crying out in a mixture of senses and feelings that I didn’t understand – lust, need, shame, pride, greed – he began mercilessly thrusting up against me. While I was grasping at his desk and trying not to let my legs buckle, he grabbed my shoulders and slammed in harder. And just when the good feelings won out over the bad and I truly started to enjoy it, he slammed home and came in me.He pulled out almost immediately after he was done, leaving me feeling strangely empty, and cleaned himself off with a tissue before zipping up, then sat down in his chair. “That will be all for now, Lucy,” he said. “Go back to your desk.”I was lying panting over his desk, but his command was clear. I pushed up onto my feet and mumbled “Yes, sir,” before reaching down and trying to pull up my panties.”Just throw them out,” he said dismissively. “They’re torn in the back.”I did as I was told, pulling the panties down over my shoes and dropping them in the wastebasket behind his desk. I opened my mouth to say something, but I had no idea what to say, so I just grabbed my notepad and rushed out to my desk.Sitting under my coffee cup was an envelope with my name on it. I picked Escort bayan it up and looked around, but nobody else was in my little waiting-room office, so I opened the flap.Inside was a hundred dollar bill and one of Phil’s – that is, one of Mr. Abrams’ business cards. He’d written his home number on the back of it and a note: “Great work! Call me if you ever want another job or a reference.”The rest of my day was strangely professional. I managed some of Mr. Smith’s calendar bookings and played Receptionist for him, but he didn’t call me back for any more sexual encounters. I decided this meant that he was satisfied, and I had done well. I reminded myself once more that I was making a ton of money at this job. After Lunch I got curious and googled Mr. Abrams. I was a little shocked at just how powerful a “reference” from him might be – he was VP of Operations for a pretty large company. I picked up the business card he’d left, read it once more, and slid it carefully into my purse.Not that I was planning to call him, mind you. This was just a temporary job, after all, just to pay off my bills and maybe get a little money saved, and then I’d go back to working places where you’d never have to blow your boss in the morning.But a little insurance never hurt, right? It’s good to have options.I was feeling so pleased with myself that I almost stopped worrying about the fact I was sitting at my desk without any panties on whenever someone came in. Almost.Mr. Smith dismissed me an hour early, suggesting I get home before rush hour hit. He looked pointedly at my skirt as he said it, and I realized that my garment deficit was going to cause issues on the train. I blushed and thanked him, then blushed more when he told me I’d “done very good work today.”The ride home was awkward, but I sat with my legs together and my purse on my lap, and I don’t think anyone noticed how exposed I was feeling.That evening, a package arrived, delivered by courier. I was soaking in my second hot Bayan escort bath of the evening; the first had been a scrubbing, washing, cleansing affair that I felt like I needed before I ate dinner. This was more of a relaxation thing, an old habit from years past. Candles, incense, the whole shebang. “Me” time.The knock on my apartment door was an unwelcome interruption, but I threw on a robe and answered it anyway. I signed for the package, immediately certain of who it was from but totally clueless as to what it could be.There was no note inside, but wrapped in paper from Saks Fifth Ave were three new pairs of panties. They were in the same style as the pair I’d lost that morning, but far nicer material. There was also another hundred dollar bill slipped between them.The weekend went pretty much how I’d planned, except that now I had a little more money than I’d expected to buy my new work clothes. I did alright on that note, especially in the thrift stores, and felt confident that I could dress to Mr. Smith’s liking for the coming week.On Monday morning, Mr. Smith met me at the office door with a welcoming smile. “Welcome back, Lucy,” he said. “I know your first couple days were a little rough, but I’m glad you came back.”I smiled back, though I still had that nervous feeling in my gut that all new bosses give you. “Thank you, sir,” I said. “Will, ah- you need to do any dictation this morning?”He chuckled, holding the door for me to enter. “No,” he said, “although I’m sure I’ll have other duties for you later on. I like to keep Monday mornings loose and relaxed.”I tried not to let him see how relieved I was as I went to my desk. I wasn’t confident yet that I could avoid the same failure and punishment as I had on Friday morning. I started up my computer and set aside my things, slipping an extra pair of panties into one of my desk drawers while Mr. Smith was hanging up his coat.True to his word, Mr. Smith didn’t ask me to do much of anything that morning. He took Escort a guest in his office after lunch, but didn’t need me there. The guest was another of the company executives, someone I’d seen in some of the company newsletter emails that I’d filed in my “notspam” folder. Mr. Evans. They were in the office for about fifteen minutes, then Evans left. On his way out he stopped and took a long look at me that made me nervous, like a deer in the eyes of a wolf, but before I could ask what he wanted he turned and walked out. A few minutes later, my intercom beeped, indicating that Mr. Smith wanted me in his office.I entered, holding my pad in case I should need to write anything, addressing him with a very professional “Yes, sir?””Lucy, I shall need you on Saturday evening. I’m not sure how long. As agreed, you will be paid overtime.”My heart jumped in my chest. Saturday evening? What did he want to do on a Saturday? It was almost certainly not business-related.He kept talking, of course, heedless of my sprinting thoughts. “Book yourself off for the second half of Friday, too. I’ll have my driver pick you up here for lunch, and in the afternoon you’ll have some things that need fixing up.”I hastily scrawled the details on my pad so I would be sure to remember, then he dismissed me and I returned to my desk. The rest of the day, I could hardly focus on the emails that I was working on. I was consumed with worry and anticipation about the coming weekend.Tuesday and Wednesday went by in a similar state; I had no idea what to expect, but somehow I knew that it was not acceptable to ask questions. Both mornings I did “morning dictation” again. On Wednesday I even succeeded in getting him off, earning myself a mouthful of cum which i swallowed immediately and a touch on the cheek that was confusingly tender. My heart skill skipped when he said “Good girl.” I smiled, then got up to fix my makeup and rinse my mouth out.I could get used to this. It wasn’t so bad. And Saturday… the overtime in my contract was ludicrous. If I stuck with this, I could replace my appliances… hell, I could start looking at nice condos if this sort of thing kept up, in addition to the amount of money I would be making eight-to-five as Mr. Smith’s assistant.I just had to get through Saturday. Whatever it might bring.