You’re in my office, and you’re in trouble. As your boss, it’s my job to deal with inappropriate behaviour. I’ve warned you once already, and now it’s time for consequences. You’re lucky it’s me handling this, because HR would have sacked you by now. I’ve got a better idea. You can keep your job — on one condition. From now on, you belong to me. You are not allowed to look at any other women in the office. Not their legs, not their tights, not even their shoes. Your eyes, your hands, your obsession — they all belong to me. I stand tall in front of you, lifting my skirt just enough to show the glossy tops of my sheer black nylons. I make it very clear your new job is to worship me and my legs every single day. You’ll polish my shoes, massage my feet and kiss the seams of my stockings while I mock how pathetic you are. This is your only option. Total submission.