Bemorechillyfries

Frank barely remembers the train ride home from the office. He just stumbles into his apartment, drops his bag, leans back against the door, and exhales like he’s been holding it in all day.

He shouldn’t be thinking about her.

He shouldn’t be thinking about what she said she’d do to him, the way her voice dropped, the cold edge in her eyes when she ordered him to kneel. He shouldn’t be replaying it so much that he can’t sleep.

But he does.

All night, he lies there, imagining her hands in his hair and other places they probably shouldn’t be, her nails scraping his jaw, her voice saying things she shouldn’t say to an intern. Things he wants her to say again, worse this time.

He hates how much he wants it.

He hates it even more that she knows he wants it.

__________________

The next morning, he shows up late just so he can pretend he doesn’t care.

He slouches at his desk.

He purposely clicks his pen louder than anyone needs to.

He “accidentally” drops a stack of papers outside her office.

He hums. Loudly. Off-key.

He does everything he’s seen his coworkers get chewed out for.

And it’s working. He can feel her irritation building like static.

Eventually, Gerard steps into the hallway with the tightest smile he’s ever seen, and fuck, he knows he’s in for it.

“Frank. Office.”

It’s not the soft, poisonous tone from yesterday.

This one is a bit thinner. Sharper. Barely leashed.

He bites his lip to hide the bratty little grin that dares to escape him as he follows.

___________________________

She doesn’t look at him for hours. Instead, she just works efficiently.

It’s somehow worse than being scolded. Almost humiliating in a way. He feels more like a piece of furniture. Unimportant.

She’s ignoring him like he’s beneath her notice, and he hates how much that gets under his skin.

Finally, as people in the office begin packing up for the day, Gerard stands and smooths her skirt.

“Frank. You’re staying late. I have some matters that I need help with attending to.”

He opens his mouth to say something smart, but the look she gives him kills it instantly. It’s a threat and a promise all at once.

He stays.

Gerard closes the office door with a soft click and doesn’t bother looking at him. She picks up a stack of papers, sets them down, and adjusts a pen, all while letting him stew in silence.

Frank leans back in the chair like he isn’t bothered. Like he isn’t waiting to see what she’ll do.

He scoffs. “What? No lecture today?”

Nothing.

She doesn’t even turn around, which pisses him off more than if she yelled.

“Oh, come on,” he says, kicking one leg out. “You're dragging me in here just to ignore me?”

Still nothing.

Gerard finally speaks without lifting her head.

“You were insufferable today.”

Frank grins. “So you were paying attention then.”

That’s when she moves.

She reaches for her phone on her desk, lifts the receiver slowly, letting the coiled cord slide over her fingers, and turns toward him with a calm, razor-sharp look that guts him instantly.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” she asks, low. “Acting tough until someone gives you exactly the attention you’re starving for?”

Frank opens his mouth to fire back, but she steps closer and drags the phone cord across his collarbone, barely brushing him.

His breath falters, and her eyes flick down to catch the movement. She smirks.

“There he is,” she murmurs. “The real version of you. I touch you once, and suddenly all that attitude melts right off.”

He tries to straighten, tries to glare, but her thumb grazes his cheekbone, and his whole body softens before he can stop it.

Gerard laughs quietly.

“You fold so fast,” she says. “It’s adorable. And pathetic.”

Frank makes a noise of half protest and half need.

“Oh? Now you’re making little sounds for me?”

She grips his chin sharply.

“You weren’t doing that when you were mouthing off all morning.”

He shivers under her hand, eyes going unfocused for a second.

Gerard’s smile turns slow and cruel.

“Floaty already?” she taunts. “I barely laid a hand on you.”

He whimpers without meaning to, a small, broken sound, and she tilts his chin higher.

“There it is. That eagerness.”

She taps his cheek mockingly.

“That pathetic little scramble for attention.”

“He tries to speak, but it comes out as a stammered, breathless plea. 

“Please-”

“Mmm. That’s what you really wanted to say all day, isn’t it?” 

She leans in, voice warm and venomous.

“Please, please notice me. Please put me in my place. Please handle me.”

He shudders at her words, completely helpless.

Gerard tightens her grip.

“You know,” she says, “I knew exactly what you were the day I took you on as an intern.”

Frank’s eyes widen.

“A needy little thing,” she continues. “All attitude on the outside and soft as pudding underneath.”

Her lips brush his jaw, not affectionate, more so assessing.

“I kept you because you’re useful. Quiet when I want you quiet, loud when I want you loud. Always watching me like you’re starving.”

She presses her fingers into his jaw until it borders on painful.

“And I like having a pet at the office.”

Frank’s breath breaks.

He tries to lean into her hand.

Gerard pushes him back into the chair with humiliating ease.

“Begging already,” she observes. “Pathetic.”

He grabs the armrests, struggling to stay upright, voice cracking.

“Please- please-”

Gerard cuts him off again.

“No,” she says sharply. “You don’t get what you want. You get punished.”

She loops the phone cord loosely around her hand and lets it trail down his neck.

“Sit still,” she commands.

“If you move, I’ll tie you up with this cord and make you sit in the corner until you cry like the needy little attention whore you are.”

He freezes instantly.

Gerard smirks.

“That’s what I thought.”

He whimpers, openly now. There’s no point in fighting it anymore, and she chuckles.

“Heels clicking down the hall, and you come running,” she taunts. “Look at you. Exactly where you belong.”

She takes his chin again, forcing his gaze up.

“Say it,” she orders.

“Say you’re my office pet.”

He tries to hold it in for a second, until her nails dig lightly into his throat.

He lifts his chin, forces a smirk, and scoffs, “And if I don’t? You gonna write me up or something?” His voice cracks at the end, betraying him. He hopes that she didn’t hear it.

She most certainly did.

Gerard steps in close. Close enough that he can’t pretend he’s not reacting. Her perfume, the click of her heels, the cool dismissal in her eyes. She looks him over like he’s the office supply she deliberately keeps just a little too close at hand.

“Cute,” she murmurs, almost bored. “You’re still pretending you have some power in this room.”

He opens his mouth to fire back something sharp, something bratty, but the second her fingers wrap around his jaw, firm and unhurried, his whole body betrays him. The smart remark dies on his tongue. His knees go weak. His breath stumbles.

She watches it happen. Watches it take him.

“There it is,” she says softly, cruelly pleased. “That floaty little place you go the moment someone actually puts hands on you. I knew exactly what you were the day I hired you.”

He swallows, trembling, and manages a whisper: “Please…”

She smirks. “Already begging? Pathetic.”

Her thumb presses harder. His eyes flutter, his posture melts, and the last of his defiance sloughs off his bones.

“On your knees,” she orders.

He drops instantly. Humiliated by how instantly.

She lets him stay there just long enough to stew in it, then moves past him, heels clicking with deliberate slowness. She picks up the office phone this time, the heavy corded one, and coils the cord in her hand like she’s done it a hundred times before.

“You want to act like a problem,” she says, “you’ll be treated like one.”

He shivers, glancing up at her from the floor. She tilts his head down again with two fingers.

“Hands behind your back.”

He obeys. Trembling, eager, ashamed of how eager. She loops the phone cord around his wrists, pulls it tight, and ties it off with practiced efficiency. The bite of it makes him gasp.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me? The way you fall apart the second I touch you?” She tugs the cord once more for emphasis, forcing his shoulders back. “You’re my office pet. That’s all.”

He lets out a whine.

“Corner,” she says, pointing with her chin. “Face the wall. Stay there. Don’t you dare turn around.”

He shuffles on his knees to the corner, the cord cutting a little deeper with each movement. When he settles, forehead almost touching the drywall, he realizes how humiliating the position is. How exposed. How small.

And then the weight of it hits him all at once.

The restraint.

The command.

The fact that she did this as if it were routine.

His breath catches, then breaks. He tries to hold it in, to swallow it down, but a choked sob slips out anyway.

Behind him, Gerard sighs with amused satisfaction.

“There we go. That’s what I wanted.”

Another quiet sob.

He can’t stop it.

“Cry all you need,” she says, voice smooth and merciless. “You brought this on yourself. And you’ll stay right there until I decide you’ve earned the privilege of being touched again.”

He nods helplessly, tears sliding down his cheeks, body shaking, wrists bound tight behind him. Exactly where she put him.

He’s still sniffling in the corner when she finally steps toward him again. Her heels slow, deliberate, signaling mercy before she even speaks.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, kneeling just enough to reach him. Her fingers brush his hair back, gentle in a way that makes his chest ache. “You took that so well.”

Frank’s breath hitches. He doesn’t dare turn without permission.

“Go on,” she says quietly. “Face me.”

He turns, braced for more reprimand, but her expression has changed, still sharp, still dominant, but softened at the edges. She tilts his chin up with a fingertip.

“Good puppy.”

The praise hits him harder than any insult. His lips tremble; another tear slips free. She wipes it away with her thumb, slow and deliberate, as if claiming him even in the gesture.

“You listened. You stayed put. You let yourself be corrected.”

She unties the phone cord from his wrists with practiced care, massaging the marks where it pressed too tightly. “That deserves acknowledgment.”

Frank stares at her, dazed, body loose and pliant from the comedown. He can barely form words.

She helps him stand, steadying him when his knees wobble. “There you go,” she whispers. “Good boy.”

“Now let’s try that once more-” determined to make him submit. “Say you’re my pet.”

“I- I’m your pet, ma’am.” He sniffles.

He’s floating, warm, boneless. The humiliation, the power, the praise, it all blends into something he can’t name.

But Gerard is already straightening her skirt, already tucking a stray hair behind her ear, already back in control.

“Gather yourself,” she says, adjusting her blouse like she didn’t just wreck him psychologically. “You’re done for the day.”

He nods, still blinking too slow.

“And Frank?” She pauses at the door, hand on the frame, not bothering to look back.

“If you’re smart, you’ll remember that I only punish brats who want to be punished.”

Then she leaves the office as if nothing happened.

He stands there alone, wrists tingling, cheeks wet, brain melted into warm static.

“…what the hell,” he whispers to nobody.

And the worst part?

Gerard doesn’t call him into her office this time.

She waits until he’s sweating at his desk, painfully aware of how quiet the floor has gotten, how exposed he feels. Then she appears beside him, voice low enough that only he can hear.

“You’re staring again.”

Frank flinches.

“I didn’t give you permission,” she continues coolly, leaning one hip against his desk. From this close, he can smell her perfume.

Intentional. Everything about her is intentional. “Do you know how embarrassing that is for you?”

She taps the edge of his cubicle once. Sharp. Commanding.

“Office. Now.”

Inside, she doesn’t bother closing the blinds.

She circles him slowly while he stands there like he’s waiting to be sentenced. Her heels click. She enjoys the way his eyes follow them before he remembers himself and looks at the floor.

“Interns don’t ogle,” she says. “They work. They listen. And they learn their place.”

She stops in front of him and grips his chin hard enough to make him gasp.

“You want to look at my ass?” she asks flatly. “Fine. But you’re going to do it while you’re on your knees.”

She releases him and gestures down.

“Go on.”

The humiliation burns hotter than anything else. She watches him as he drops to his knees the entire time, arms crossed, expression unreadable except for the faint curl of her lip when he hesitates.

“Pathetic,” she murmurs. “And still hard. Typical.”

She steps closer, close enough that he can feel her presence without touching him.

“You don’t touch,” she warns. “You don’t speak unless I tell you to. And you don’t finish unless I decide you’ve earned it.”

Her hand drifts just close enough to promise things she hasn’t given yet.

“If this were allowed,” she says softly, cruelly, “I’d have you blindfolded and bent over this desk. There goes your little staring problem.”

She pauses, lets the silence stretch.

“And then I’d make you beg for permission you wouldn’t get.”

She straightens suddenly, composure snapping back into place like nothing happened.

“Stand up. Fix yourself.”

At the door, she looks back over her shoulder, eyes sharp.

“Next time you stare,” she says, “I won’t stop at punishment. I’ll make an example out of you.”

The door clicks shut.