Mycroft switched on the light and all his naughty little secrets came into the light. Hidden right next to his office was a dungeon, stocked with a plethora of bondage toys and equipment. A Saint Andrew's cross sat in the far left corner, an over-the-door entryway restraint hung from above them, and whips, electric probes, ropes, cuffs, and sex toys were organized and hung to the walls. The room was cold, or maybe it was just Anthea, and there air was heavy. She could tell Mycroft didn't come here very often. He stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame, studying her and her responses. For a moment, she just stood in the middle of the room and turned her head to fully take in her surroundings. Then, she made her way around the room, running her fingers along the rigid sides of the cross and along the various shelves, sometimes intermingling her fingers with the ties and knots of the whips. She smiled coyly, just enough so that Mycroft would notice her amusement but not fully give away her excitement. Thoughts and feelings were tossing themselves about in her head: Was this really happening? Or is this just another dream? Another wet dream? Another...very...wet dream about her boss. She turned and looked up to face him.
"Hmm, I guess Mr. Government isn't as clean as he seems..." she teased, "you're actually a very, very dirty boy." He stepped forward until there were only inches of space between them, lifted her head up to look her in the eyes, and uttered, "You cannot begin to fathom howfilthy I can be."
"Then why don't you show me?" she husked, closing the gap between them and wrapping her arms around his neck as she pulled him in for a deep kiss. Mycroft, taken aback (in all honesty, he had not expected her to react in such a dominating manner), turned stiff and froze with his hands stuck to his sides. Anthea's tongue brushed over his top lip and over his teeth, waiting for a gap to enter through. Shaking off the initial shock of her advances, Mycroft clutched her shoulders and pulled her impossibly closer to him. He parted his lips and smashed his tongue into hers, insisting on exploring every inch of her wet, wanting mouth. His hand moved to the back of her neck and pulled her chin up and closer to him. His other hand slipped around her lower back and he brushed across its nape. Anthea's fingers made curls in his hair and drew small waves along his clothed chest as she moved them down towards his trousers. With a growl, Mycroft grasped her wrists and shoved her forcefully against the wall as a small moan escaped her lips. Without removing his tight grip on her, he scattered a trail of light kisses across her jawline and down her neck to her clavicle. She rolled her head against the wall, closed her eyes and drew him closer. She began to feel his erection pressing against his pants, craving contact with her thigh.
Suddenly, he pulled away from her. With a disappointed moan, Anthea opened her eyes and saw him a few metres away, at the other end of the room by the cross. He beckoned her to come with a finger motion, and she strutted over to him. He soon turned cold, and his face was no longer blushing. His eyes were distant and, but still aroused. He takes her by the arm and forces her against the cross, where he binds her to it. With a pair of scissor, he tears her shirt open and rips it off. Anthea pulls back from the blade, afraid only for a second before her heat retakes her. This was new, like the spanking, and she liked it. She liked being so exposed to Mycroft, her boss, her dominator. He made similar work of her skirt and laced black panties and soon she was entirely naked, with her arms and legs spread open. She blushed vigorously and squirmed against her leather restraints. Her skin was pale, save for her red face and pink clit.
"Anthea, you still must be taught a lesson. You must do what you are told and make no mistakes. Do you understand?" he asked, moving towards the whips. His fingers grazed the row of various whips. He finally gripped one tight, his favorite, a Tomcat whip with a slick black handle and red knots.
"Yes, Mycroft," she husked. Crack! The whip landed with a twinge on her thigh. Anthea gasped through her teeth in pain. The area turned pink and he dragged the whip across it, soothing the sting.
"Yes, Master," he hissed, smirking at Anthea's twisted face, who was unsure of whether she was feeling more pain or pleasure.
"Yes, Master," she relented.
