Righting a Wrong: A tale of Punishment

She had been in the company before me. A woman with a reputation. Not for her skill, but for how she used herself to get what she wanted. The walls whispered about her, but nobody dared confront her directly. She played the game dirty .

And for a while, she had. Until I came along.

I wasn’t supposed to be the one chosen for training. I wasn’t supposed to be the one put forward for opportunities she thought were hers by default. And every opportunity I earned felt like a thorn in her flesh.

She whispered lies to supervisors, trying to damage my name. One of them even bit the bait until the whole mess unraveled, and the truth came out. The lies traced back to her. And the war between us became open, ugly.

Our manager, tired of the constant clash, gave us both an ultimatum: settle this quietly. On the surface, I agreed. Inside, I boiled.

I wanted to settle the feud once and for all. I proposed a lunch near office but due to flight delays we had to postponed to dinner. She was supposed to have dinner with me and then stay with her "friend" as the delays resulted in her crossing her hostel curfew.

That’s how I found myself, late night after the long shift, standing in my apartment with her sitting across from me. Swiggy containers lay open between us She was in her half-sleeved uniform shirt and pant, hair loosened from her usual bun, but her attitude was the same as the office.

From the first bite of food, the accusations started “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” she said. “Replacing me at every chance. Playing the boss’s pet.”

“Enough. I told you we’re here to be civil. To settle this.”

“Civil?” She laughed, bitter. “You destroyed my image. Do you know how long I worked for this place? And now they look at you like you are better than me. "

Her words stung because they weren’t entirely lies. But the way she spat them, blaming me for her downfall, twisted my chest tight with anger.

“Watch your mouth,” I warned, voice low.

She leaned back in the chair. “Or what? You’ll run to the manager again? That’s what you’re good at. Hiding behind authority.”

The last string snapped.

I stood. Walked to the main door. Locked it*.* The sound made her blink.

I walked back slowly. She opened her mouth to speak, but my hand moved faster.

The slap rang out like thunder in the small room. Her head snapped to the side, hair flying. Shock froze her, lips parted, breath stuck in her throat.

When she tried to shout, my hand struck again sharp. She gasped.

I leaned close, my lips brushing her ear. “Shut up,” I whispered.

She nodded, trembling, still in shock. Her blouse, already strained, gave way at the second button, open just enough for her cleavage to show. My anger flared hotter at the sight.

“You will listen to me now,” I said, eyes boring into hers.

She swallowed hard. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded.

My hand slid under her hair, gripping the base of her skull, forcing her to stand. She obeyed. When I brought my lips to hers, she resisted for a second then gave in, kissing back with a heat that shocked even her.

I broke the kiss, dragging her toward the bedroom, my grip iron on her wrist. She stumbled, caught off guard, but followed.

I pushed her onto the bed. She landed with a gasp, propped up on her elbows, chest rising fast.

I loomed over her. “Strip.”

Her eyes widened. “What—”

“Now.”

She hesitated. My palm smacked her thigh. She flinched.

“Do you want me to repeat myself?”

Her lips trembled. Then, slowly, she reached for her blouse. Fingers fumbling, she undid the remaining buttons. The shirt slid off her shoulders.

“Faster,” I barked.

She obeyed, tearing her trousers down her legs, leaving her in a thin slip and cotton inners. Vulnerable. Exposed.

I moved closer, gripping her chin in my hand, forcing her to look up at me. Her arrogance was still there in her eyes.

“Listen carefully,” I said. “You’re not here because I forced you. You’re here because you chose to stay past your hostel curfew. Because you stayed to settle this. From this moment, I take control..’ If you say it, everything stops. Do you understand?”

Her breath came fast. She wanted to resist, but her body betrayed her. She nodded. “No,” she repeated softly, testing the word.

“Good. Now… show me you mean it. On your back. Hands above your head.”

She obeyed, lying back, arms stretched upward. The slip clung to her body, every curve visible.

I hooked my fingers into the thin fabric and yanked, tearing it down the middle. She gasped, breasts spilling free, bra hanging loose. My hand pressed her wrists hard into the headboard, pinning her there as I leaned down to kiss her , rough, punishing.

When she bit my lip in defiance, I slapped her thigh again, harder this time. She gasped, eyes flying open.

“Don’t test me,” I growled.

Her arrogance flickered, then dimmed. She whispered, almost breathless: “Yes…”

And just like that, the war tipped in my favor.

Continues....

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