A photo of a woman standing. We see her torso incased in a tight black latex dress. Her hands are on her hips and she's wearing fishnet stockings.
The Boss: Part 1
May 2, 2024
A spiky black collar sits around the neck of a woman. A large silver chain links to the collar and continues out of frame.
The Boss: Part 3
May 3, 2024

The Boss: Part 2

A woman bathed in blue light leans against a silver pole. She's wearing black leather platform stiletto boots.

🍑💦 This story is part of Tagg After Dark, an erotica collection exclusively for readers 18+. 🍑💦

This is Part 2. If you missed Part 1, make sure you read that first.



The smooth drag and hard clack of my boots announced my return before my body did. 

“Boss, you look so good.” Ollie’s gaze running down my body felt like warm water rinsing over my skin. 

I stopped in front of them. “Give me your neck.” They tilted their head, exposing the pale flesh of their throat. I slid their thin black collar around their neck and clasped it shut, wordlessly telling them what was true: I owned them. They were mine. I stepped back to admire my handiwork, surprised by how warm and loose my muscles felt, how good it felt to possess them.

“Remember,” I ran my index finger in a line down their throat, over the warm hump of the leather, down the hard bone of their sternum. “Good boys look, but they don’t touch.” 

“Yes, boss.” 

I walked the rest of the way to the gleaming silver pole and put on music. I started with my hands wrapped around the pole and my back to Ollie, bending halfway and pressing my ass toward them. My tits hung heavy from my chest, and I could feel my nipples pressing into the tight fabric of my dress. I waited to feel Ollie’s reaction, and there it was—a quick, sucked-in breath. Their want vibrated off of them like a siren call.

Pole dancing for the first time years ago in a studio, I felt power thrumming through my body. I had the power to inspire desire, manipulate want, and move in ways that made things I wanted happen: hardening bodies, pulsing blood, biting lips, spreading legs. It was there again tonight, pulsing in my wrists as I spun and moved. 

I rolled my body into the pole, wrapped a leg around it, and stretched upside down, running my hands over my breasts, stomach, and fleshy hips. Ollie leaned forward in their chair, mesmerized, lips parted. They wanted to touch me. I liked that. 

Eventually, I climbed the pole and sat facing them with my legs wrapped snugly around the cool metal. “Since you’ve been such a good boy, would you like a treat?” 

Ollie’s face lit up. “Yes, please, boss.” 

I pressed my palm into the pole below me and slowly opened my legs out into a wide V, a move known as a hello boys, revealing my naked pussy underneath my dress. 

“Oh boss, you’re so sexy, you look so good,” they babbled, their hand shifting towards their crotch. 

“Who said you could touch yourself?” I snapped my legs closed and landed my boots on the floor with a hard clunk. 

“I’m sorry, boss,” they stammered. “You’re just so hot, I – ” 

When I grabbed them by the collar, they fell silent. “Look at me.” I pulled the collar tighter, bringing their face closer to mine. Their breath smelled sweet, like peach and mint. “You’re mine. You touch yourself when I say. You touch me when I say. You come when I say. Got it?”



How long with The Boss make Ollie wait to touch her? How long will she make them wait to touch themself? Return here on Sunday, May 19, for part 3! Sign up for our weekly newsletter to be reminded when the next installment drops, OR become a Tagg Supporter to access the entire story today.




Writer Eryn Sunnolia poses outside against a backdrop of lush green trees. Eryn wears their hair in a light brownish blonde bob. She wears glasses with clear frames and a yellow top with a brown corduroy button-up. She smiles as she looks into the camera.
Eryn Sunnolia
Eryn Sunnolia (she/they) is a queer writer living in Philadelphia, PA. Their writing has appeared in Electric Literature, HuffPost, Well+Good, Insider, and others. You can find her at erynsunnolia.com or @erynj_ on Instagram and @eryniswriting on Twitter.