“Don’t you make a sound or complain once, little girl. You wear this revealing shit in my office and act like you can do whatever you want-”
“No, I don’t,” she finally argued. “I don’t-”
“What the fuck did you just say to me? Get off of me. Face the fucking wall. Now.”
She scampered off immediately, placing her hands on the wall and facing away from him.
“You disrespect my office and then you lie to me. Don’t move a muscle, little girl.”
“I’m not a girl,” she said, frustrated.
“You’re not? You’re about to tell me you’re a woman, carrying on like this?”
She felt the touch of rough skin against the tiny, thin fabric of the thong against her pulsating cunt.
“Are you really going to lie to me when you’re like this? Do I need to make you take these off and smell how wet you are?”
“No, Sir,” she said, desperately trying to hang on to what dignity she had left.
His perfectly pressed khakis became slightly more pressed than before, and if she was facing him, she definitely would have noticed this time.
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t need to take this slutty bullshit off to do this.”
She heard a clicking and un-clicking noise, like a pen opening and closing. And then she felt it. It was a pen opening and closing. He had slid a closed ballpoint pen up her wet cunt, her underwear too skimpy to offer any resistance.
“You wanton fucking whore,” he said in her ear. “You see how easily it goes inside you?”
He pushed it further and deeper inside her, her dripping wet pussy accepting it eagerly, wishing it was something else but not caring enough to fight or speak.
“Is this what you want?” He asked.
“No,” she pleaded, half lie and half truth. “What is it that you want, then?” He shoved the pen hard now, enough to make her cry out.
“I- I don’t want a pen inside me,” she said. He laughed.
“You have two options. One, I fuck you with whatever I want. Pens, staplers, highlighters, white out. Your desperate cunt will take anything I want.” She gulped, knowing it was true. “Second, you take that bra off and show me what you’ve been teasing me all day with like the whore you are, and I’ll spare you the objects.”
She immediately spun around to face him, starting to unhook her bra.
“Jesus fuck. No. You don’t understand, do you?” he admonished her. “Do I really have to spell this out for you?”
She paused for a moment, the challenge- not far from the feeling of contempt- and arousal building.
“I would like to proceed with the second option, Sir,” she said coolly, focusing her glare directly into his.
“You will learn to remember professional conduct with me,” he said firmly. “You will wait for my okay every time. Now you may continue.”
Not breaking her stare, she went back to removing the black lace. He bit his lip.
“How big are those?” He got up off his chair, starting to circle her like a wolf around a cornered animal.
“32 triple D. Sir,” she said clearly.
“Arms up. Now,” he said, not taking his eyes off her exposed tits once. No sooner did she raise her arms in a stretch, did she feel his rugged hands squeezing her tits with no restraint.