“What do you call me, Megan?”
She answered without hesitation. “Sir.”
“You are not to show these tits in any capacity during work hours again. Do you understand? No cleavage. No nothing. Answer me, whore.”
“I understand, Sir.”
“Actually, allow me to correct myself. You are not to show these tits to anyone but me before, during or after work hours. Do you still understand?”
She smirked, starting to wonder how realistic he was being and what he assumed or didn’t assume of her life. If he caught this, he didn’t comment.
“I still understand, Sir.”
She had noticed by now the hard bulge against his crotch. It wasn’t short or small. It was a man’s cock. He didn’t miss her stare, despite her attempt at making it quick.
“If you so much as think about what you’re looking at, you will follow everything I tell you, in this room and at your desk. Every second of every day. Now bend over and touch your toes.”
Again, she didn’t hesitate.
From behind, she felt him pull her thong to the side and touch her cunt with his fingers. She whimpered, feeling herself ovulating acutely at his touch. She waited for his fingers to enter her, but they didn’t. Instead, he retracted his touch and slapped her cunt. Reeling, she had no words, but knew that if he did it again, she would cum right here and now, squirting all over the tile floor. But he didn’t. He yanked her panties down, roughly. “Remain in that position,” he ordered simply. She complied. Still touching her toes, she felt something enter her. Something cold and metal.
“What the-” she said, grimacing as she realized he had broken his word. Her swollen, pulsing cunt was being fucked by a metal stapler, and there was nothing she could do about it. “You told me you wouldn’t,” she pleaded unconvincingly. This caused him to fuck her with the stapler even harder.
“What I told you was that you had two options.” Harder. Faster. “Not what I wou-” suddenly, the forceful penetration was too much, and she squirted. If anyone had walked in, it would have looked like she had just peed all over the floor. “Jesus Christ, you like this?” he interrupted himself, the penetration unceasing. “You know, most girls- civilized girls- don’t like being fucked hard with foreign objects. Most girls don’t like being penetrated enough to fuck up my floors,” and she came again and again from the hard, rough force.
“I wasn’t going to fuck you today,” he said, breaking character. “But your body is begging to be fucked. Your body is begging to be violated and penetrated and defiled, isn’t it? Do you even cum from your clit?”
She shook her head, no. The words “It’s too sensitive” escaped her lips.
“You’re too sensitive to handle a normal orgasm, but you’re not too sensitive to be a fucking animal,” he said, taking the stapler out of her vagina and staring at the mess on the floor.
“There’s no such thing as a civilized orgasm,” she spat at him, her personality coming out again. For the first time, he smiled.
“Are you on birth control?” He asked, not bothering to stopping to reply to the statement that aroused his fucking soul. She nodded a yes. She knew where this was going now. Or she thought she did. And it wasn’t a lie.