A/N- Okay, ladies and gents. This is where the story starts getting a little more grey. If you've seen and enjoyed the movie Secretary…you'll be fine. Kinda dub/con-ish maybe? This chapter was going to be longer but it's been so long since I updated…I found a good for me stopping place.
The next morning started much too early. The sound of your alarm set off a slight ache that pushed and pulled along your temples. You rubbed the crusted sleep from the corners of your eyes, willing them to focus as you fumbled for the offending phone, beeping impatiently at you.
"Ugh, shut that fucking thing off. Why?" Heather croaked from across the room.
"Sorry. I still have to work…" Reaching for a water bottle on your dresser, you attempted to wet the cotton that was apparently lining your mouth. This was why you didn't imbibe on a regular basis. Hangovers were rarely worth a few hours of fun.
"I can't believe he's making you come in today. Can't you call in?" she groaned.
You wouldn't even if you could. You loved going to Professor Rogers' house. The routine and the work and… "Nope. Not possible. I already asked him to leave early yesterday. He told me he expected me this morning."
Heather rolled over pulling her covers to her ears. "Sucks to be you."
You were glad you had showered the night before. It only took a few minutes to get ready. Soon enough you left your grumpy roommate to exchange her company for your boss'.
Waving to the guard at the gate, he greeted you by name before letting you in. The drive was so familiar to you now that it somehow felt more natural driving to his house than driving home ever did. The long sweeping driveways to the stately homes was a vision you would never be over.
Parking your car in front of his house, you prepared yourself for your favorite part of the day. Professor Rogers greeting you at the door. The fact that you had yet to reach out to touch his sweat-slicked skin was a testament to your self-control.
You took a deep breath, willing your stomach not to flutter in its still sensitive state. Knocking and waiting, the door swung open and much to your utter disappointment a buttoned-up sky blue cotton greeted your eyes.
"Good morning. Did you get many trick or treaters last night?" you asked with a smile.
Professor Rogers stepped to the side, giving you a wide berth to cross his threshold. There was no greeting. No banter. Just the sound of the door closing behind you as entered the office.
A knot formed in your throat as you placed your phone on his desk. A hot mug of coffee already sat next to his notepads. The pens already filled.
"Wha—" The words died as you turned and saw chairs and table back in the place your desk had sat for the last few weeks. "Where's my desk?"
"I moved your workstation back to the other room." He rounded the desk, sitting down and taking your phone to place in his drawer.
"B-but why?"
Finally, he looked at you. The warmth his blues eyes once reflected wasn't there. There was a distance in his very presence now. Although you were mere inches away, a gulf had grown between you.
"I have deadlines to meet. Something proving impossible with your constant foot-tapping, muttering, nail-biting… Disgusting habit."
"Oh." Your fingers curled, trying to hide the proof of his criticism. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was such a distraction." Turning away, you walked across the foyer. You might have well been sent to time out for all the guilt you felt. Had your habits really been that bad? Why hadn't he said something sooner? What else had you been doing that bothered him?
There had to be a reason he was suddenly so harsh. Maybe it really was just his upcoming deadline. Hopefully, he would return to himself once the stress had passed. Until then you would just have to wallow alone in the dining room wishing you were closer to him.
Steve watched her as she walked away. She didn't appear hungover, maybe tired but not ill. The thought of her awake late into the night in the arms of that boy…his teeth ground against each other as he exhaled.
He grabbed her phone and unlocked it. Scrolling through her texts and apps to see if his spyware missed anything, he found nothing. Of course, he knew he was looking for a blue-haired boy but who knew what he looked like out of costume. What could she possibly see in him? He thought she would have had more refined tastes.
And yet, she had kissed him, well Captain America, last night. She hadn't known it was him but it meant something. Didn't it?
Closing all her apps, he put her phone back in her desk. Surely, if she was in a relationship he would have known. Was it a one-night stand? How may had touched what should be his?
It was time to tighten the reigns. He'd been letting her get away with far too much for far too long.
Your fingers, dancing over the keyboard, jumped as your name echoed through the house in a tone you didn't recognize. Heartbeat racing, you rose.
"Yes, sir?" you asked with a timidity you thought you had grown passed.
"Is it too much to ask you to proofread your work?" he snapped.
"Well, I go through it looking for spellcheck errors."
"That's the problem with people today. Always expecting others to do the work. Too reliant on technology. Does this look like something I could turn into my editors?" He tossed a printed chapter in front of you. Red circles littered the pages. "If I wanted to look illiterate, I would have typed the damn thing myself."
Forcing yourself to stare at the offending pages, you muttered, "I'm so sor–"
He cut you off, rubbing his temples. "Don't apologize. Just fix it."
Sitting once more, you placed the pages on the keyboard and read. Missing articles. Their instead of there. So many stupid mistakes a simple spellcheck wouldn't catch. You wiped the sweat from your palms on your thighs. Unconsciously, your fingers had found their way into your mouth, teeth nibbling at your stubby nails. Tears stung the corners of your eyes as you sniffled.
Breathing deep, you opened the document on the computer and began finding and fixing all of your errors, each one making your cheeks burn. Were you going to lose your job? You couldn't afford that. And truth be told, you'd be devastated. You craved the stability of the routine you had created with him. The lack of which was just as worrisome as everything else going on today. Each worry snowballing into fear. What would you do when he finished his book? No longer needed you? Was he already done with you?
Steve finished editing the next chapter with just as many errors as the first. He expected better of her. He straightened the stack of papers, tapping their edges against the wooden grain of the desk. How would she learn, improve if he didn't hold her accountable for her mistakes?
He could hear her muttering to herself as he neared the dining room. Slowing his approach, a series of sniffs interrupted the flow of mumbled words. Looking around the corner of the arched entrance, he saw her rocking slightly, hands clasped at her chest, shining eyes scanning her screen back and forth as her lips moved. His anger and jealousy seemed to fade as he remembered the first time he saw her. All tense and timid, yet eager to please. Wound up so tight. In need of release.
They were both in need now.
Raising your eyes from the white glow of the screen, you saw Professor Rogers watching you.
"Follow me," he ordered.
This was it. He was going to fire you. You would have to find a new job. Maybe you could beg for your old one back. Maybe you could beg for this one.
He placed a stack of papers you recognized as another chapter covered in red on the desk. He motioned for you to stand near the desk. "Place your hands on the desk on either side of your work. Bend over the desk and start reading."
Hesitating, you replied, "I'm not sure I understand."
"There's nothing to understand. Bend over the desk. Read." His countenance was impassible.
Heat from your hand created an outline of condensation on the polished wood surface. The beat of your pulse rushed to your ears. Inhaling deeply, you focused on the task at hand. Your voice faltered as you stumbled over the missing article that should have been between two circled words.
Smack. The sound of his palm coming down in a sharp decisive swat against your ass filled the room. Gasping, you looked back over your shoulder.
Professor Rogers was behind you, hand raised. "Keep reading," he said, his voice even.
Swallowing, you continued, receiving a spank for each mistake you had made. It was harder to pay attention to your task while ignoring the warmth of your backside and the slickness building between your thighs. A moan slipped past your lips with the last impact. Your body froze with the realization of what you had just done before you realized he was breathing just as heavily as you were.
Professor Rogers sat back down at the desk. His eyes stared into yours. "How do you feel?"
How did you feel? What the hell just happened? He spanked you and now he was asking how you felt? Standing, you searched for an answer. You were confused, of course. And yet, you felt lighter. The anxious tension had melted away leaving your muscles lax. Everything seemed to tingle and ache in a familiar way that made you want to stretch out in bed enjoying the sensations. The afterglow.
Your cheeks felt feverish as you answered truthfully. "Better."
"Good." He lifted the stack of papers you had just recited, handing them to you. "Get back to work."
Steve's pants pressed painfully against his erection. She had done beautifully. Her body relaxing into his ministrations. The little moan was almost his undoing. He knew she hadn't meant to. It had come so naturally. So effortlessly.
He palmed his dick and groaned. Had he gone too far too soon? Had he let his emotions get the better of him? Would she run? Would she hate him?
No. She was different. He knew she was. She would realize how well they complemented each other. How their strengths and weaknesses would balance.
He would take care of her in ways she never would have known she needed. She would give him the sense of purpose he had been missing for some time.
Sitting at the table, your thoughts played over and over in your mind making work near impossible. The most confusing thing had been your own reaction. Shouldn't you have stopped him? Shouted? Done something?
But you hadn't and worse than that you couldn't deny the dampness soaking through your panties. You had enjoyed it. The fear and excitement, even the pain. What was wrong with you? Pushing those answers deep inside, you set to work with more determination than ever.
Finishing the first chapter quickly, you waited by the desk as he read over the newly printed pages, watching him scan, the red pen twirling between his long thick fingers. As he laid the last piece of paper on the desk in front of him, he looked up at you and said, "Excellent work. Good girl. Now go finish the rest."
Biting your lip, you held back the smile that threatened to betray your feelings. The day had started so poorly but has somehow turned around. You weren't quite sure what it all meant but you knew you preferred these feelings to the ones that consumed you this morning.
Steve exhaled as he watched her drive away. Today had been a revelation for him, a glimpse into what life could be like. Once she accepted it and understood how good it could be. How perfect.
Blue and leather flashed in his mind. He would have to do something about that. Something to make her realize her true feelings. A plan started to form, one he hoped would open her eyes.
Clouds gathered in the sky as you walked across campus. Professor Rogers' mood had improved over the last few weeks along with your work ethic. Heather joked after class one day he must have gotten laid. The thought of him with another woman turned your stomach, but you laughed knowing that that wasn't the case since he spent most of his free time with you. Alone.
Although the spankings had continued when you failed to meet his standards, he had never touched you in a way you would consider purely sexual…the lines were so blurred. Anticipation and adrenaline simmered through your body whenever he was near. There were times you had been sure he felt the same tension between you but he never acted on it.
Your desk had been restored to his office. In order to please him, you started getting manicures to keep yourself from gnawing at your fingers. He gently tied your ankles to the chair legs with scarves to keep your feet from tapping. A day of that and your habit was broken and a new fantasy born. It had been days since the last time he had had to make any corrections. The thought of making typos on purpose had crossed your mind, in fact, it was your favorite daydream.
Was it some weird 1940's thing? You had seen old advertisements with housewives bent over the husband's knee for buying the wrong coffee, but was that actually a thing or just an advertising joke? Was he actually trying to punish you or calm your nerves when the stress of everything got too much for you? Did the why's even matter to you when all of you ever thought of was the next when?
Crossing your arms, you leaned into the wind that sent fallen leaves swirling around your ankles. Professor Rogers had texted you to come by his office this afternoon. Paying attention to lectures had been impossible knowing he wanted to see you sooner than usual.
It was strange walking to his office when people were still loitering in the halls. Usually, you had most of the building to yourselves when you met together. If they knew, if any of them knew what he was really like. No one would ever believe that straight-laced Captain America had bent you over his desk on more than one occasion.
Knuckles rapt against the door as per normal teacher-student interactions. No need to act too familiar. His voice sounded from within granting entrance. The door swung open and you were greeted with the sight of a tall slender woman sitting on the edge of the desk laughing with Professor Rogers.
Your stomach dropped. She leaned forward swatting his shoulder as he grinned up at her from his chair.
He glanced at you. "You're here." He briefly introduced you. The woman, Ms. Yvonne Winslow, looked you up and down before nodding in your direction. "Would you mind running to the student coffee shop and getting us one cappuccino and one coffee?"
Errands? He wanted you to get them coffee? Like you were his servant? You reminded yourself that you were his employee. But you had let yourself believe you were more. "Yes, sir," you replied trying to mask the disappointment that settled unpleasantly in your stomach.
No sooner had you made it back outside, the heavens decided to mirror your feelings. Cold rain-drenched your jacket within minutes. Your hair was stuck to your face and neck.
Your teeth clenched, trying not to chatter as you ordered your coffee and waited. Maybe you should get yourself one too to warm you up but nothing sounded appetizing right now.
Holding the cups close to your body, you leaned over them hoping the rain wouldn't cool off the warm liquid before you could get back to your destination. Each blast of wind chilled you to the bone. The early excitement you felt walking this path was replaced with apprehension. Who was she? What was she to him?
Lost in thought, you fumbled for the doorknob. Pulling the door open while balancing the coffee, praying they didn't spill, you realized much too late you should have knocked.
Yvonne's hands rested on Professor Rogers' shoulder. She pressed a kiss to his cheek, rubbing off the lipstick left behind with her thumb. "I'll see you for dinner tonight. 7 p.m. Our normal spot." She turned in her high heels and let him help her into her expensive coat. Tying a sash around her waist, she glanced at you. "Oh, there you are. I was worried you drowned." She took the coffee from your hands. "Seems I wasn't far off. Thanks for the coffee. Bye Steve."
"Bye, Yvonne. Well seems like you have the evening off. Why don't you take a few days off? I'm sure you have some big assignments due this week, and we'll meet on Friday to discuss what needs to be done after we come back from Thanksgiving?" he leaned against the desk behind him, hands gripping the edge of the wood. "Go back to your dorm, get dried off, and warm."
Dripping on the office rug, you stared at the open door Yvonne just exited. She kissed him. They were going out tonight. You felt like an idiot standing there. Placing his coffee on his desk, you turned and left.