Kneeling for a New Life (the Amber Memoirs)
Copyright© 2026 by E. J. Bullin
Chapter 21: The Incident at Work
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 21: The Incident at Work - Based on the incomplete serial “Amber and Emily Saved by Aaron Adams” (2019, Storiesonline). This remaster expands the original 24-hour timeline to three weeks of initial trial, then eleven months of growth, all from Amber’s first-person perspective. The original author’s plot, characters, and key scenes are preserved and honored. Any errors have been corrected, and the story has been deepened with internal monologue, extended kennel sequences, and a fully realized ending.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Fa/ft Coercion Consensual Reluctant Romantic Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Incest Mother Daughter BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Humiliation Light Bond Cream Pie Exhibitionism Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Safe Sex Voyeurism ENF Nudism Transformation AI Generated
The warehouse settled into my bones.
After three weeks, I knew the rhythm. The early morning drive with Aaron. The coffee from the break room. The stack of inventory sheets is waiting on my desk. Marcus’s gruff good morning. Janice’s quiet smile. Gary’s sneer.
Internal: You’re not just working here. You’re becoming someone. A person with a routine. A person who belongs.
The morning of the incident started like any other.
I arrived at seven, logged into my computer, and started cross-referencing the previous day’s shipments. The numbers blurred together SKUs, quantities, and locations. I worked methodically, double-checking each entry.
At nine, Marcus called a team meeting.
“A big client is coming in this afternoon,” he said. “International. They want to see our operation. Everything needs to be perfect.”
“Define perfect,” Janice said.
“Clean. Organized. No mistakes on the inventory.”
Gary snorted. “No mistakes. That’s funny.”
“It’s not funny. It’s an order.”
Internal: Gary’s been like this all week. Worse than usual. Something’s eating at him.
The meeting ended, and we returned to our stations. I was halfway through a stack of manifests when Gary appeared at my desk.
“Amber,” he said.
“Yes?”
“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you? Coming in here with your perfect attendance and your perfect numbers.”
“I don’t think I’m hot shit. I think I’m doing my job.”
“Your job.” He leaned closer. “We all know how you got this job. On your knees.”
Internal: On your knees. He doesn’t know how right he is. But not the way he thinks.
“I got this job because Delores hired me.”
“Delores hired you because Aaron asked her to. And Aaron’s only keeping you around because you spread your legs for him.”
The words hit like a slap.
I stood up. My hands were shaking. My face was hot.
“Say that again,” I said.
“You heard me. You’re a whore. Everyone knows it.”
Internal: A whore. You’ve been called worse. By better people. But this is different. This is your job. Your life. The thing you’re building.
I wanted to hit him. I wanted to shove his clipboard up his ass. I wanted to scream every curse word I knew.
Instead, I walked away.
I walked to Marcus’s office, knocked on the door, and waited.
“Come in,” he said.
“I need to report something.”
“What?”
“Gary. He called me a whore. Said I got my job on my knees.”
Marcus’s face went still. “He said that?”
“Yes.”
“In front of witnesses?”
“Janice was nearby. She heard.”
Marcus picked up his phone. “Stay here.”
I sat in the plastic chair outside Marcus’s office, listening to the muffled sound of his voice through the door. He was calling Delores. Then HR. Then Gary went into his office.
Internal: You did the right thing. You didn’t hit him. You didn’t scream. You reported it. That’s what professionals do.
Gary walked past me, his face red. He didn’t look at me.
Marcus came out a few minutes later.
“Gary’s suspended pending an investigation,” he said. “You’ll need to give a statement.”
“I can do that.”
“You’re not in trouble. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
“Good. Go back to work. We’ll call you when we need you.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
I finished my manifest. I double-checked the inventory. I spoke to Janice, who confirmed Gary’s words. I gave my statement to a woman from HR who asked the same questions six different ways.
By five o’clock, I was exhausted.
Aaron was waiting in the parking lot.
“How was your day?” he asked.
“Hard.”
“Good.”
“I didn’t hit him.”
“Who?”
“Gary. He called me a whore. Said I got my job on my knees.”
Aaron’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “What happened?”
“I reported him. He’s suspended.”
“You did the right thing.”
“I know.”
Internal: You know. But part of you still wants to hit him. Part of you always will.
The drive home was quiet.
Aaron didn’t push. He just drove, his hand occasionally reaching over to rest on my knee.
When we got to the farmhouse, Emily was waiting on the porch.
“You look like shit,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“What happened?”
“Someone at work called me a whore.”
Emily’s face went dark. “Who?”
“His name is Gary. He’s suspended.”
“Suspended? He should be fired.”
“He might be. There’s an investigation.”
Internal: She’s angry. Protective. It’s almost sweet.
“Are you okay?” Emily asked.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re shaking.”
She was right. I was shaking.
Aaron put his arm around me. “Inside. Kneel. Recenter.”
I knelt in the living room, facing the window. The sun was setting, painting the yard orange and gold. Emily knelt beside me. Aaron knelt behind us.
“Breathe,” he said. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”
I breathed.
“Feel the floor under your knees. The weight of your body. The air in your lungs.”
I felt.
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