I step into my office, relieved but strangely disappointed that I didn’t see our new engineer on my way in. It’s been two weeks since our first encounter where he had me sprawled out on his desk. It had been filling my mind ever since: the bewilderment that he had taken me up on my flirty dare to try to find dirt on me through my work computer, the confusion of him knowing how I liked my coffee, the name of my cat. I remembered the cold, sinking fear when we were alone in his office and he smiled as he turned his monitor toward me so I could watch a video of me unwittingly pleasuring myself on my bed in front of my work laptop’s webcam. I remember my body turning cold despite my face flushing and feeling glued to the floor as I panicked; every ounce of dignity seeping out of me as I watched my blissfully unaware self massaging my clit on his screen. I wanted to launch myself past him and cover the screen as quickly as possible but the damage was done. He’d surely had that backed up somewhere and his calm demeanor told me he had the upper hand no matter how I tried to save myself. I thought of how helpless I felt as he stood up in front of me, eclipsing me, and shocking my already frazzled senses by telling me to take my panties off. I obliged, wildly wondering what he was going to do to me, knowing it was futile to question something that I had to allow to happen.
I sat down at my desk, crossing my legs, ignoring the damp caress of my panties against my thighs. I needed to focus on my work. I needed to push the thought of him holding my hair against his desk while I stared up at the ceiling, touching myself per his instructions. I couldn’t think about the hot explosion of his cum splattering my chest and leaking down my neck and shoulders. And yet, my mind traveled through the memory as it had for days, landing on him telling me to put on my panties and zip his pants while I was still drenched in his fluids. I left his office tucking my hair behind my ears, wiping the cum hastily from my skin while I tried in futility to make myself presentable.
Several days went by before he spoke to me again. It was late in the evening and most people had gone. I was in my office when he showed up and closed the space between us before I could understand what was happening. He still had leverage on me and I realized he wasn’t done exploiting it. He could do what he pleased with me. I felt my breath quicken, my eyes focus on his chest and neck, not daring to look up at him, while my screen glowed, neglected in the background. He instructed me, bluntly, with the authority of someone not to be challenged, to show him my pussy. I felt my cheeks flame but reached down nontheless, to pull up my skirt and pull my panties to the side. He smirked at the telltale wet spot on my underwear and I felt embarrassed that he knew how bad I wanted him to use me despite my nerves.
“Use your fingers,” he instructed, and nodded to my lap. I spread my legs while he undid his belt and unzipped himself.
I reached down and touched myself, realizing how drenched I had gotten in a short time as my fingers slipped down my wet slit. As he hardened in front of me, he stroked himself. Eventually, he moved forward, prompting me to open my mouth so I could take his thick cock in it. I tried to brace for it by putting my wet hand against his thighs but it was to no avail. His cock filled my mouth entirely and I gagged against it as he pushed past the back of my mouth, slid past, and down my throat. My shoulders heaved and my eyes began to tear up, brimming until it spilled down my cheeks. He didn’t relent, instead pounding into me so hard spit was gushing out of the sides of my mouth and streaming down my chest. His ferocity filled my body with adrenaline and I couldn’t help the building of an orgasm as it rose through my body. I exploded with the help of my fingers and screamed with his thick member still in my mouth, muffling my cries. My moans and the undulating of my throat pushed him over the edge and he came, emptying himself as I came down from my own, quaking climax.
He pulled me up, smoothed my hair and gave me a kiss, not caring if his mouth touched the slick spit on my mouth or my tears intermingling with it. I blanched at the tender caress of his mouth and looked him in the eye, wondering how I’d allowed this all to happen.
That was over a week ago. I spent the weekend and the entirety of this week with glimpses of our trysts filling my head at the most innoportune times. During a meeting, I’d see his hands undoing his belt. In the middle of a phone call, his voice would slip into my head, telling me I was a good girl. I did everything I could to avoid seeing him, knowing I no longer knew how to react to him professionally. I would have to eventually, but I needed time to figure out if I could let this continue to happen; if it was even up to me.
I decided I was ready to go home for the week and began packing up my belongings when I heard a ping from my computer screen. I felt excitement swell in me, knowing who it most likely was.
*”I left something under your keyboard. Tomorrow 8AM.”*
I quickly moved my keyboard to find a note. On it, an address in black pen.
I turned the note over, the backside simply reading, *”That’s all you need to know.”* I immediately flipped the note back, alarmed that he somehow knew I’d be searching for more information. I imagined him smirking as he wrote it and willed myself not to be annoyed at his silly teasing as I shoved the note in my purse.
I couldn’t sleep that night, wondering if I should ignore the note, pretend I hadn’t seen it or the instant message he sent me. He’d know. Somehow. And if he knew I saw both things and ignored him, who knew what he would do. I couldn’t deny that while the repercussions were worrying, the prospect of seeing what was in store for me was beyond tempting. Despite his roughness and how absolutely inappropriate this was, I was sure he somehow knew how badly I had wanted him to control me; to overcome me physically and mentally. I drifted off to sleep, his face filling my mind before it faded to black.
I sat in my car on an unfamiliar street. I had plugged the address into my phone and it had taken me about 10 miles east, to a residential area. I assumed the address was his and I needed to steel myself before committing to knocking on the door. I took a deep breath and smoothed down my short pink dress. I chose flats as heels didn’t seem conducive to being around someone who had a tendency to manhandle me. I checked my face in the rearview mirror and tucked my curled hair behind my ears. I stared at myelf and took a deep breath again before getting out and meandering up the path to the door with numbers matching my note.
I knock lightly, telling myself I can still run. A moment passes before the door opens and you fill the frame of the doorway. I instinctively step back, putting my hand on the strap of my purse, suddenly feeling stupid for standing in front of your house on a Saturday morning. You smile and look at your watch.
“8:03. Tsk tsk.”
“Well, I- I was here at 8. I just… I was thinking in my car.” You look at me, smiling and then move to the side, sweeping your arm toward the inside of your home.
A shiver goes down my spine as I step inside and take in my surroundings, letting the cool air wash over me. I turn around at the sound of you locking the door. you reach forward and your hand plants itself on my stomach, pulling me back against the door where you’re leaning on your side.
“Why’d you come?” you ask.
“You know why.” I feel your hand touch my wrist and grip it lightly.
I stammer, “The things you have, about me, I dont want you to-” I feel my eyes prick slightly, overwhelmed by this unfamiliar territory.
I dare to look up at you slightly to see you smiling and suddenly I’m angry; indignant at your cavalier attitude.
I pivot to face you. “You know, you can’t order me around forever. Telling me to take off my panties. Telling me to show up here.” My mind goes wild and I blurt out, “It’s our day off you know- I could’ve been doing -”
Before I can finish my tirade, you start to laugh and I feel rage buiding in me as you swiftly bend forward and pick me up off the floor. You fling me over your shoulder and I grip your back in sheer bewilderment and fear. I flail my legs, my knees brushing against your stomach when I feel your palm make contact with my nearly exposed ass. The sting cascades across my skin and I’m rendered mute as you walk toward the back through a hallway. Only a few seconds pass before we’re in another room and you deposit me on what feels like a work out bench.
You bend and put each hand on either side of me, looking me directly in the eye.
“Listen, you know what I have. What I could do with it if I wanted to. Or you pushed me to. I don’t want to do that. Instead, I’d like you to be mine today and tonight. Then we can reevaluate.”
I take several breaths, willing myself to maintain contact with you. I search your eyes, “What do you want?”
Your gaze drifts to the bench I’m sitting on. I look down and see that the bench is leather and there are black cuffs shackled to the pole underneath it. My mind connects the dots and I quickly look at the other side to find another set of cuffs attached to a soft leather bar in between the floor and the base of the bench. I feel your fingers pull my chin away and center my face on you again.
“No…” I say, willing my eyes to look back at the cuffs. You pull me back and I bite my lip nervously.
You look at my mouth. “Take your clothes off.”
I look at the bench. I think about everything you have on me. I look down at my lap.
I realize I’ve hesitated a moment too long when you abuptly make a small motion toward me, presumably to take my clothes off if I’m not going to do it myself. I put my hands on the hem of my dress to show you I will. My fingers inch up my thighs, steadily dragging the material with it. You stand back, watching me. When I pull my dress over my head and reach my arms back to undo my white lace bra, you gently rake your fingers through my hair, tracing your fingers down my cheek while I look down. I notice you hardening against your jeans and my breath hitches at its implications. I lift one thigh and the next to pull my underwear off; pale pink lace that wouldn’t show through my dress… as if I thought I’d be wearing it for much of the day. I slip my shoes off and swallow.
“Good girl,” you whisper. You pause. I can feel your approving gaze washing over me like a sculptor over their smooth, marbled creation.
“Lay down on your stomach.”
I turn, straddle the bench and then lay my torso flush against it, letting my shins rest on the lower bar and my hands on the floor. My hair is tossed to one side and I press my cheek into the cool leather. I should have asked more questions.
I feel you tenderly grasp my left ankle and then I feel a tightening of soft leather against it. Then my right ankle is bound. I’m hyperaware of your movements now and shiver when you kneel down in front of me to secure my wrists to the cuffs. You tighten them and yank on the chain once.
I pull on the chains slightly and realize viscerally that I’m trapped. The panic sets in and I start instinctively pulling against the restraints, my breathing quickening and my eyes widening as I realize what I’ve done.
“No, I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this” I say out loud, my voice breaking.
“Shhh. Relax your hands and your legs.” You take a knee and hold my wrists to the pole.
“You’re going to stay here today. Cuffed. I’m going to use you when I want and how I want. When I’m done, you stay here. You’ll ask for the bathroom. You’ll ask to eat. Tonight, you’ll sleep with me, tomorrow you go back home.”
I weigh my options. I have none.
Uncharacteristically, you wait for me to answer and I wonder if the allowance to choose is real or if it’s a facade. The seconds hang in the air.
“Okay. I… I’ll do it.”
“I know,” you say. Your fingers trace up my arm, my shoulder and then down my upper back. My bust spill off the side of the bench and as you stand, you trace your fingers on the outside of my breast, spilling inward to caress my nipples. I moan unexpectedly but hear nothing from you. Your hand goes back, tracing down my back and then my ass, following my curves until you get to my calves and then going back up to between my legs. Inexplicably, I raise my hips up to meet your hands, wanting them to be inside me, no longer thinking about whether I wanted to be chained. You use both hands to caress the backs of my thighs, pushing up against my ass, your thumbs treading closely to my pussy. Suddenly I feel your fingers brush against me and a loud whimper escapes my mouth. I brace my legs against the lower bar and buck my hips up but you take your fingers away before they enter me.
Once I settle, letting the desperation subside and the disappointment manifest, you shove three fingers into my pussy and I cry out from the brutal surprise. You pump into me with your fingers and my g-spot being rammed against sends vicious shockwaves of pleasure through my body. I raise my face off the leather and scream, yanking at my restraints from all four points. You pull out and I hear your belt clink and the metal of your zipper release. Suddenly, I feel the bench raise quickly and stop abruptly nearly a foot higher, my arms and feet raising with it, clinking into place as they settle on the bar. You walk to one side and use your hands to turn my head gently, I know what you want and I open my mouth, ready to receive you as you push into it, breaching the tight, warm sleeve of my throat. I gag once and when you pull out, a line of spit is dragged with you before you plunge into my mouth again. Your hand pushes the back of my head gently until my face is pressed against your body and my throat instinctively tries to swallow the girth in it, unknowingly creating a rolling tightness against your shaft. Spit is pooling in my mouth when you finally pull away and allow me to breath. I pull air into my lungs as spit pours onto the floor below me.
You reach down, tenderly putting a thumb in my mouth, running it along the inside of my lip. Then you take your hand and smear my own spit into my face. I close my eyes and try to pull away slightly but your hand on my head disallows me.
Before I realize it, you’re behind me, straddling me and the bench, pushing gently on my opening. I know I’m soaked and likely dripping onto the material below me. I can’t deny how my body reacts to you and how quickly you’ve ignited dormant desires in me. I want you. I want you inside me, even if it means being chained. I know better than to flail against you in desperation. I wait patiently, enduring the the painful anticipation as you rub the head of your cock against the warm slit between my legs. Then I feel it, you inching your thick cock into my tight pussy, plunging the entire length inside me in less than a second. I open my mouth but nothing comes out until a faint whimper escapes; sheer unadulterated pleasure overcoming my senses. Beams of sparks spiral through my body, rushing forward, warming my face from the neck up.
You pound into me, pushing me forward along the leather. You reach forward and grab the enclave of my waist atop my wide hips, using them to hold me in place while you penetrate me. After several thrusts, you lean forward, your chest against my back and your hands find both of my breasts. They hang, jiggling in the air until your hands come underneath them and encase them in a warm grasp. I moan at the heat from your rough palms and the feel of your breath against the nape of my neck. My breath is slowly being pushed from my lungs as more of your weight bears down on me, your grunting in my ear, a fogginess begins to ebb into my vision. Suddenly, you push up, releasing me from your grasp and exposing my back swiftly to the cool air. Your hands grip my waist hard again and your thrusts speed up considerably. I hear you spit and then I feel your finger being shoved in my ass. I know you’re doing it to add to your orgasm and the thought exhilerates me. I yelp from surprise coupled with the added pressure of you pounding my cervix. You respond by grabbing my hair in a rough ponytail, my tresses cascading over your wrist as you pull me back toward you. You pull harder until my wrists are screaming against their leather confines, the chains giving a final clink as they’re pulled taught. It’s then that I feel you expand inside of me, somehow filling my body even more adeptly, before you explode inside of me, painting the inside of my body with your cum. I feel you flooding me as you groan, pumping yourself into me slickly a few more times. Finally, your grip loosens and I feel you pull out of both of my holes. You let out a breath before I feel your fingers brush my hair out of my face.
You stand and I hear your jeans being pulled on. I am out of breath when I ask, “Can… Can I clean up.” You don’t look at me before saying, “No,” and leaving the room.
I press my face against the surface, letting my arms hang down. I listen to see where you might be. I hear faint sounds but not distinguishable enough to make out what you’re doing. I lie there for what seems like a long time before you re enter the room with a bowl and a water bottle. I look at you tentatively, searching. You kneel down to me and hold an apple slice to my mouth. You’re looking at me but not in my eyes as I look in yours. I open my mouth and I see the faintest smile appear on your face. You feed me the rest of the fruit in the bowl, taking care to go at my pace. You hold my head up as I drink water, realizing that I’m probably dehydrated. A slight stream pours down my cheek from the odd angle. You wipe my face and I lean into your hand but you pull it away too quickly and stand up, leaving me alone in the quiet room.
Silence envelopes the space and I figure you must be working at your computer. Maybe reading. Did you leave? I realize that wondering is an a waste of time. My eyes flutter and close slowly, bringing me into the soft escape of sleep more quickly than I anticipated.
I awake to twilight sun coming through the blinds and my wrists gently swaying. I open my eyes fully and you’re kneeling before me. I can’t deny that I’m happy you’re back. You’re silent so I take the cue to be silent as well. Once you undo my wrists, you move toward my ankles. I attempt to lean up and realize that I’m sore and moving is difficult. My fingertips are numb and I realize I’m cold. I sit up and try to wrap my stiff arms across my chest. You lean down immediately and run your hands down my arms briskly, encouraging the bloodflow. You move to my legs and tug on my calves ever so slightly. It hurts but feels almost therapeutic. How many times have you done this? I stand up now, bracing myself against you, wondering what I should say, if anything. You turn and half reach down to pick up a black t shirt. You raise my arms slightly and slide it over me. It smells like you and laundry detergent. It’s almost tight against my chest but flows to the tops of my thighs. I appreciate the warmth.
“Are you hungry?” you ask.
“Yes, but can I go to the bathroom first?” The empty water bottle sat next to where the tshirt had been folded.
You hesitate. “Yes. Then I want you to eat. It’s getting late.”
Sitting at your table, I feel my leg tapping against my chair. I don’t know what to say to you or what to ask you so I focus on eating the dinner you’ve made us. I’m surprised by how good it is and I see a smile play on your face as you glance at how quickly I’m eating. I slow down, self-conscious.
“Relax” you say, cutting your meat, taking a moment to look at me. I give a quick apologetic smile back, wondering how you expect me to relax under the circumstances when I don’t know what depraved things you plan to do to me for the rest of the night.
We finish and you take my plate away for me. When you come back, you nod toward the hallway. I stand, you take my hand and guide me through your house, toward your bedroom. I briefly see the layout of your furniture before you flick the lightswitch off and darkness cascades over the room save for the soft light eminating from outside the doorway. It’s eclipsed when you close the door behind us before putting your hand on the small of my back and pushing me toward the bed. When my legs connect with it, you spin me around and gently push me backwards on it. Your shirt is pushed up my stomach and I feel exposed to the air again. Warm wetness suddenly meets my clit and my back arches sharply off the bed when I realize you’re licking my pussy. Your hands wander to my thighs, keeping them open so your mouth can work from the top of my lips, down to my wet opening, your tongue wandering sloppily around the entirety of my sex. Your mouth wanders lower and I draw in breath quickly at the new sensation. A moan escapes my throat at the same time that one of your fingers enters my tight pussy. It glides in easily, nontheless, aided by my wetness and your saliva. You begin pumping into me at a steady pace while your mouth travels around me, igniting waves of pleasure in each area your tongue graces. Your enthusiasm allows me to relax and I find myself melting into the sheets, consumed by this unexpected pleasure. Your tongue is finding a rhythm against my clit now, unwavering from its steady pace. You’re trying to make me cum and you’re going to succeed. My hand moves from gripping the sheets to raking through your hair, gripping it, hoping you take the hint to stay there. You do, and I feel a tension building in my lower abdomen. Before I can slow myself, it erupts in me and I cry out into the darkness, your mouth continues to lap warm spit onto my pussy and I ride your tongue through my overwhelming orgasm, gripping your hair with both my hands as I squeeze you with my thighs. As the pleasure rolls through my increasingly limp body, I loosen my grip and my legs fall to their sides onto the bed before my feet slide off the edge toward the floor. You push them back up so my calves are pinned to my thighs and then I’m being pushed up higher on the bed. I pause there, exhausted while the night air floats past me. I feel a heavy blanket cover me and the mattress sink as you get in next to me.
You reach over to me and slide your shirt back off me. I’m warm under the blanket with you next to me, so I aid you in its removal by slipping out of it. I feel your mouth on my nipple almost immediately when I lie back and I gasp slightly. You suck lightly for some time, coaxing my nipple to harden, before biting me just hard enough for me to wince. Your hand has wandered to my other breast and you’re squeezing it, the excess spilling out of your palm. You stay that way, slightly hovering over me, swirling your tongue around my erect nipple, before moving to the other, replacing your tongue on the first with light fingertip brushing. You work my tits for what seems like hours but it is probably only minutes. It feels like worship.
My eyes are closed but I feel you maneuvering, on top of me, your hips sliding against my soft thighs. My clit is still sensitive but you run the head of your cock against it anyway, making me instinctively want to protect myself by closing my legs. Your strong body keeps them open as you slide your cock back down and plunge into my pussy, pulling out, knowing you’re covered in my cum from earlier. You’re on your forearms but you slip them both across and underneath my neck so that my face is pressed into the crook of your neck. Your breath is hot and sweet in my ear. Your lips are on my jaw, trailing down my neck, back up to my ear.
“Good little kitten,” you murmur almost impercetibly.
I feel myself melt into your body and a growing pressure inside me forms. As you pump into me and fill up my tight body entirely, I feel the pressure starting to surge, growing in me and before I know it, I’m exploding under your body, writhing against your skin, bucking against you as it wracks every muscle in me. I come down slowly from the painful pleasure of my second orgasm as I feel you tense in me, grunting once, then twice in my ear. You roll off me and the warm weight disappearing leaves me feeling bereft.
I don’t have the energy to wonder what is happening or to ask myself, again, why I’m allowing it. I turn away, on my side, quietly, and I feel your hand drape over me and pull me into your body, your arm underneath snaking under my neck and wrapping across my chest, securing me to you. I feel your chest raise and lower against my back. Laying there, eyes heavy, the unfamiliar sheets clean and soft against my bare skin. I realize, idly, that our breathing is in synch as I drift off into sleep.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/hacvx2/my_28f_new_coworker_takes_advantage_mf