“Hey, boss, you have a minute?”
“One sec, but come on in.”
I slipped in to the office, quietly closing the door behind me. Jenny glared at the screen, typed out something with a definite air of finality, and clicked send before spinning around with an exasperated look.
“That useless director was ‘reminding’ me, again, to finish that process eval. I ‘reminded’ him, *again*, that we finished the process eval three months ago and sent it to him for review. Ugh. Anyway, what’s up?”
I’d been thinking about this moment for a while, but it was different having her face *there*, not just imagined.
“Well, Jens, if you check our team folder, you’ll find something new.”
She raised an eyebrow, waiting for more, but I just grinned and spread my hands. She snorted and spinned back to her computer. “Alright, Mikey, we’ll play it your way. Let’s go see what this special-*whAT?*”
It was everything I hoped for. The little half-screech, the slack-jawed expression, the scooch forward to stare closer as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Oh my god, Mike, you *did it?!?”*
I kept grinning, and gave a flamboyant bow from my seat.
“*Oh my god*, this is *amazing*! You tested it, right? And it works?”
“Please, Jenny, do you *really* think I would have told you if I hadn’t? It’s been running for a week. Accounting did their reconciliation yesterday, and not a single discrepancy.”
She sat back and looks up at the ceiling.
“There *is* a God, and he *loves* me!”
I should probably explain. Our company runs on ancient systems. Like, *really* ancient. Like so ancient that they stopped teaching the language used to make them before my dad went to college, ancient.
To say that following modern accounting practices on them was “hard”…Well, three different people in Accounting had quit in the last year because they just couldn’t stand it anymore. It wasn’t “hard”, it was a *nightmare* trying to reconcile the numbers every week.
And I had just shown my boss a program to automate the whole damn thing.
“Shit, Mikey, the question isn’t *whether* you’re getting a raise, it’s how *big* of one. We’ll get you lined up for the next annual award too, and-“
I shook my head.
“Nope, boss, don’t need any of that. And when you present it to the rest of the managers tomorrow, they’ll all see your name on the code.”
“*What?* Mike, seriously, what the hell?”
“I *am* serious. You’re taking the credit for this one, boss.”
Jenny looked at me in concern.
“My dude, this is career-changing stuff, I can’t let you-“
“You’re not *letting* me do anything. You remember the ‘happy hour’ in March?”
She winced. “Vaguely. Zoom ‘happy hour’ with the whole company? Who thought that was a good plan? I remember you and I just started our own chat, though.”
I nodded. “Exactly. And when we were chatting, we talked about this, remember?”
I was sweating a little. Now we were coming to it…
“Um…Not really? I was probably bitching about it again, yeah?”
“Yeah…And saying what you’d do if it ever got solved.”
“Mikey, I’m gonna need you to refresh me, what does that have to do with you giving up the credit on this?”
I took a deep breath, and started talking, mimicking her accent. “’Jesus, Mikey, if anyone ever fixes this stupid fucking thing I will thank them on my knees. And if they let me take the credit, I’ll be fucking naked doing it.’”
I paused, looking at her. *Here we go…*
–
*Is he joking?*
I smile cause I don’t want him to feel awkward if it’s a joke.
And it’s a joke, right?
It has to be, only Mike isn’t smiling back.
“Are you joking?” I ask “Are you… *pranking* me or something?”
“No joke. No prank. No… *something*” he nods his head at every word, but he can’t look me in the eyes.
My smile falters as I am still waiting for the punchline.
“Mike, it was just a joke. I didn’t mean it”
He smirks with disdain looking up at me.
And here’s what you need to know about this man: he has piercing eyes, the kind that lock on to yours and make you feel like he can read your soul and translate it to seventeen languages.
It’s noteworthy because whenever we think about a man being erotic it’s always something manly and obvious. It’s his lips. It’s his muscles. It’s his growl. It’s his chest, his arms, his voice. *His grip*.
But there’s something about a man’s eyes that fucks me up. That *look* that says he wants you and he means it.
Mike is staring at me like that.
Like he wants me.
*Like he means it*.
His thumb hovering over his lower lip while he considers what I just said. His piercing eyes quickly falling to my cleavage, just for a second. Just enough for me to know exactly what’s on his mind.
I gulp, suddenly very aware of my breathing.
“I was joking” I repeat it, feeling much less certainty now than I did before.
“No, you weren’t” is all he says.
“I… I didn’t mean it” I try to save myself.
“Yes, you did.”
He’s abrasive and unforgiven for a very simple reason: he is not wrong.
“Yes, I did” I whisper.
The night I made that *promise*, we were drinking, yes. But we were also on a separate chat, just me and him. And I’m pretty sure there was some light flirting going on along with the alcohol.
I wasn’t innocent.
I may be unsure now, but I wasn’t then.
If we’re being completely honest (and what the hell… why shouldn’t we?) I hoped he’d jump on the opportunity to hit on me. Maybe the private chat could turn into a private video call.
Those piercing eyes have been drawing my attention for quite some time.
But now there is a lack of alcohol and an excess of shame.
“I’m your boss” I point it out “I’m in a position of authority”
“That’s your issue?” He has the half-smile of a man with a strategy.
“It could feel like sexual haras…”
“Then, I have the authority”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means that… when you give me what I was promised for my work… *I’ll be in charge*. You’ll be quiet”
“Quiet?”
“And obedient, hopefully”
I wanna laugh and be outraged, but those fucking piercing eyes.
*How does he do that*?
It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it? The quiet, smart and brooding. They are the ones you need to be careful with.
I always though he was a little sexy and a little hot and a little fine, but this is something else.
This is a man sitting across a table from me, who’s not even close to touching me, and yet I feel as if he had a hold of my leash. I can’t look away. I can’t lie. I can’t deny what I want to happen.
He is waiting.
Like a lion hiding in the tall grass. He wants me to make my move so he can attack.
“What… What would that entail? You being in charge?”
He smiles like a carnivore.
I brace myself for his attack.
–
*Yes*
“It would entail…Me being in charge.”
I tamp my grin down a couple of notches.
“There would be rules, of course. Safeword, safe movement in case your mouth is otherwise occupied, and you have my word that I won’t do a single thing you don’t allow.”
And this, dear man-children, is where making and *keeping* a reputation of being absolutely trustworthy pays off. Because I knew that *she* knew that my word was enough, I’d proved that plenty of times over the years. And that’s one of the only reasons why this was even *possible*.
“But I can see you want more in the way of details. So here is the truth: I have wanted *you*, Jennifer Elizabeth Mackenzie, ever since you approached me to be your first mentor.”
My lips quirk.
“You’re not the only one worried about the work hierarchy. I *couldn’t* do anything while training you. Even when we were on the same team, I was still mentoring you.”
I run a hand through my hair, tug my beard.
“Once you got that last promotion, though…It got much, much harder.”
From the look on her face, she was (correctly) guessing the double-meaning there.
“Look. We’ve been friends for years, and I want to continue that. Your friendship is important to me, more important than…”
I gesture at the screen.
“Whatever this ends up being.”
My hands are trembling a little now, the excitement and tension ratcheting up.
“But. If I can have you naked, on your knees, looking up at me, while wrap my belt into a new collar and leash for you…*God* I want that. I want *you*.”
I lean forward, staring straight into her eyes, *holding* them, not letting her look away.
“I couldn’t risk it, before. But now I’ve *earned* a shot. If the answer is ‘no’, then it’s ‘no’, but you can’t blame me now.”
I reach out and pull her hand towards me, letting my fingers trace hers.
“And if the answer is ‘yes’…”
“Then I don’t want you to speak. I don’t want you to nod.”
I carefully let loose some of the tight binds that have held my lust down all these years.
“I want you to take my hand, and wrap my fingers around that *agonizingly* tempting throat.”
–
*Maybe*.
Desire is such a weird thing.
Five minutes ago, all I could think of was work.
Now the only thing I can think of are his hands around my throat.
Desire so powerful it’s suffocate me even thought I’m not being touched.
I reach out for his hands. My movement is slow and sweet, like sweetheart lovers holding hands. My intentions, however, are no sweet at all. They are spicy. They are hot flaming chilli you’ll-need-a-glass-of-milk-after intentions.
Desire is like a switch. You can be just fine in the dark, but once you flick it you’re done.
And now I’m thinking about flicking it. I’m thinking about being with him in the dark.
I take his hands but instead of placing them on my neck, I make sure he enjoys every inch of that fucking journey: I intentionally make it so his finger tips brush my hips, my waist, the curves of my tits. I never let him stop for too long or touch too hard. It’s a little tease. A little promise. His fingers get eager, greedy. I can see him grinding his teeth. I can feel him wanting to bang me against the wall and sink his cock so deep I’ll hear his balls slapping against my skin.
There’s hunger in him.
Urgency.
So I go extra slow.
I lower his hands a little as I moan. Letting his fingertips feel my hips again, and all the way to my ass before immediately bringing them back.
Mike licks his lips and I know full well that bringing him to my neck means turning a “maybe” into a “yes”, at which point I’ll no longer be in control. So I take my time.
He inches closer and closer to me. I can hear his eyes calling me a fucking whore and telling me to stop his suffering already or I’ll regret it.
I keep it up. Just a little longer.
And just like I though: It’s all smooth fun and games… until his hands get to my neck.
He breathes out a warm moan of relief as I let go of his wrists and without a single second of hesitation he clenches his fingers around my throat and I know we’re on.
*Tight*. Tighter.
Punishing me for being a tease.
Rewarding me for being a whore.
*We’re on*.
–
*God* this was even better than I had dreamed. She *wants* this. Not just the credit, but *this*.
So I gave it to her.
I’d had enough time to think, after all those long months, of what I wanted to do.
First, she needs to be kneeling, not sitting. The fingers on the back of her neck twine themselves in the tiny, delicate hairs there, and it’s that more than the pressure on her throat which forces her out of her chair. I take a moment and just *savour* this, while she’s still in that awkward not-sitting crouch, loving that I can *do* this.
*Then* I force her to her knees. We have stand-desks, and with those comes the mats designed to ease the pressure on your feet. They should do just fine for her knees.
I’m enough taller than her that keeping my hand where it is just isn’t going to work. But before I release her, I lean down and pull her up as much as she can go and give her a hungry, *hungry* kiss. Then I bite her lip, stare her straight into the eyes, and growl.
“I’m going to release your throat. You’re not going to move unless I tell you to, other than squirming. You will not speak unless you start or end what you have to say with ‘Sir’. And, most importantly…”
I pause, and bite her jaw. I don’t mean a gentle nibble, I *bite* her. Not *too* hard, I just can’t stand waiting for my own plan.
“You *will not* lie to me.”
I hold her eyes, impressing this on her.
“I will ask you questions, about what you enjoy and what you don’t. And sometimes, I *don’t* want you to enjoy it. I *want* to be forcing you to do something you consent to, but don’t want. But I can’t fully, truly, enjoy *myself* until I know what I am doing to *you*. For instance, I *doubt* you will enjoy all of this-”
I release her throat, and slap her, hard. She staggers to the side, nearly falling off her knees. Something about the look in her eyes drives me *insane*, and I reach down with both hands, ripping her blouse open, scattering buttons everywhere. And then I take one knee, and kiss my way slowly, achingly slowly, from her lips to her navel.
“But I might be wrong. And I want an honest answer, *now*.”
Jens just looked at me, maybe in shock.
“Am I clear, you *wicked* little tease?”
–
*Yes*.
That’s the only thing I can say.
Rather…
“Yes, sir”.
My answer pleases him. I can tell by his smile and the way he runs his tongue quietly over his lips. Like he is getting ready to bite. I take my hand to my cheek, feeling it burn where he slapped me. *And I know he bites as hard as he slaps, so I’m fucked*.
I don’t know where I was expecting this to go, but I wasn’t expecting it would go here.
He pinches my chin and *Mike* disappeared. This man standing in front of me looks a lot like him: the same face, the same hair, the same perfume. But it’s not him.
His eyes are different. He looks at me like is wondering if my throat can take his cock.
His smile is different. He smirks at me like he’s gonna shove his dick down deep and he doesn’t give a fuck if I gag and choke.
He flexes his fingers and I’m afraid he’ll hit me again.
I understood the rules and I’d consent to it just fine… I do wanna see where this goes. But it’s like he said: just because I’m ok letting him lead, it doesn’t mean I’ll like where he takes me.
“Did you enjoy that?” He asks though he already knows the answer “And don’t fucking lie to me”
How can he be such different men at the same time? Before, I would have described as kind and adorable. But now? His attitude is so powerful that he is yet to touch me and I already feel like bowing my head and never looking up again unless I have permission.
*Mike is gone*. This is Sir.
“I didn’t” I barely purse my lips and I feel his hand on my cheek again. He strikes me so fast that it feels like I hear the slap before I even feel it burning in my skin again.
“Is that how you address me?”
*Fuck.*
“No… No, sir” I add quickly before he strikes me again because by now I’m sure he will.
He comes closer, until our eyes are aligned. He takes a deep breath and when he speaks he pronounces every syllable as if I were stupid.
“Did. You. Enjoy. That.”
“No, sir, I didn’t”
His grin feels… *not cruel but*… powerful.
He has power over me.
I gave him the power and I am never fucking ever getting it back, am I?
I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that one bit.
Sir smiles.
“Good”.
–
*Fuck me*
I can’t *believe* how good this feels.
I’m getting ahead of myself, though. As hard as it is (and *oh god* it is), there are a few things I have to do first.
“Now, *boss*, before I forget…Safeword? Light system work for you? And tapping out if your mouth is *occupied*?”
One of my fingers pushes against her lips, past her lips, and she has to enunciate her “Yes, Sir” with some effort as I pull it back reluctantly.
“Any rules, hard limits? For here, right now. We’ll discuss the rest later, once I’ve filled you up with a few loads, but anything *now*?”
I step back, giving her space physically as well as psychologically to think. I have to dig my fingers into my palms, the pain distracting me enough that I don’t just pounce on her.
“Sir. Nothing that’ll show outside of my clothes, on my face or whatever. You’ll…I’ll need to borrow your jacket, since my blouse-” She gestured at the ravaged buttons.
“I…Nothing worse than bruises…please? Sir? And…Unless you have a tube of lube in your pocket instead of being happy to see me, no anal.”
I nod, making sure I have each condition firmly burned into my brain.
“Anything else, boss?”
“…No, Sir.”
I don’t even reply. I just lunge forward, nearly wrecking my zipper as I frantically free my cock.
And the moment it’s free, it goes right done her throat.
Jesus *fuck*
I’ve never done this before. Not bribing my boss into letting me fuck her (though I haven’t done *that* before either). I’ve never gone all the way in a woman’s throat before. There was always gagging before then, and me pulling back and being careful, or sometimes not, but never getting past the gags.
This time, I go way, *way* past them.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s *definitely* still gagging. But holy *shit*, the difference between gagging on my cock, and gagging *around* my cock, it’s a whole other world.
My hands are mauling the tits I’ve fantasized about for years, the ones I’d probably-not-so-secretly wanted since the moment she walked up to me at that happy hour asking questions no one else was answering.
Or, well, one of them is, because she starts fighting and pushing me away, and I have to use the other to shove her head back where it belongs. Though, as hard as it is, I *do* take a moment and tap her arm three times, and wait to see if she taps back. When she doesn’t, game on.
And that’s when I notice.
She’s only using one hand, too.
Her other hand is down her skirt.
“Are you touching yourself, Jens? Do you like it when I take your throat?”
I let one of her pushes succeed, and tilt her chin up towards me.
–
*Hmmm*.
He asked me something.
Fuck, what did he ask?
I can barely breathe when he pulls out. The tip of his cock still brushing my lips, his fingers pinching my chin so I’ll look at him.
I have two fingers teasing my pussy, feeling myself go wet.
*“W-what?”*
“I said” he leans to me, like an owner talking to a dog “Do you like it when I take your throat? Do you like it so much you have to rub yourself while I make you gag?”
“Yes, sir” I mumble. There is a cold fire in his eyes.
The slap burns on my cheek, but not as much as before.
“That won’t leave a mark” he says, slowly “That was pretty weak. You want a hard one on your tits?”
“W-what?”
“Then don’t lie to me. I told you not to lie to me. Do you like it when I take your throat, Jens? Do you like it when I do this?” He grabs my face like I’m a fleshlight. Like I’m a little plastic tube he can wield with absolute disregard. He tries to fuck my throat but the angle is weird and he fucks my inner cheek first. Only he does it so hard my whole face gets pushed back. His cock slides on the back of my tongue finding its way down my throat and I gag, scratching his thighs, trying to fight my way to freedom.
I try to make him understand I’ll answer. I’ll tell him the truth. But I think he forgot he asked a question.
He sinks his cock in until his balls are right there on my chin, I choke on his girth, on his pubes, on his pre-cum. But I’m his little plastic tube now. He doesn’t care. But every time I gag, I’m pretty sure I can feel his dick inside my throat flicking harder, like the spasms are holding him in tighter and he is adoring it.
*It’s like I’m drinking his pleasure*.
His desire infecting me.
Even though the throat is too much and too hard… *I like it*.
I like his despair.
I like that he can’t think.
I like that my mouth made him forget his questions.
Still… I’m about to tap out when he lets me breath again. I bend over on the carpet coughing, spiting his pre-cum on the floor to make room for oxygen.
“If you lie to me again, next time I won’t pull out until you pass out. Now answer me: Do you like it when I take your throat?”
“No” I spit the word along with everything else “No, sir. I hate it”
“Then why are you rubbing yourself?”
*Fuck*.
Guess I am.
How am I this horny that I didn’t even notice?
How am I this horny that my body decided to care for my clit even when my brain was unaware?
“Because it turns me on” I’m still trying to catch my breath “I hate your cock down my throat but it makes me horny and wet as fuck”.
That’s the best answer I got.
That’s the *only* answer I got.
*Sir* grabs my chin, violently. His fingers pressing my cheeks so hard my jaw opens.
“Well then… let’s find out what else you hate, shall we?”
———–
This story was written in a collab with one of the Patrons holding the leash! <3 (Posting this with permission from said Patron!)
I hope you all enjoy this one as well!
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/11l3q19/my_m30s_boss_f30s_said_shed_fuck_whoever_fixed
Holy fuck that’s good
Dude I love your writing style!!! Plz continue
Does she get a little after care?