She landed in a splayed, four-pointed crouch, hovering above his powerful back. Hesitantly she lowered herself. Though he had a very trim torso, he wa... still too broad for her to properly straddle. Her knees wouldn't reach the table. Not both of them at any rate. She ended up with most of her weight on her inner thighs and the gusset of her leotard.Ban shifted beneath her, rubbing his spine against her groin. "Comfortable?" he asked."Yeah." She said in an unintentional whisper. Clearing her. ”“You know,” I began, “in the ‘old days’, the phrase ‘a firm hand to whip her into shape’ would have meant you bent over the desk for a good thrashing.” Her eyes widened. “But with the #MeToo movement and all, that really isn’t an option anymore, is it?”“Probably not, sir.” Her voice was shaky.“Probably not!?” I barked.I think she saw it as a test. “Well, sir. If one had the legitimate option of refusal, but agreed anyway …”“A ‘legitimate option of refusal’? Hmmm, and just how would one. More

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