After-Hours Obedience
The corner office on the 42nd floor glowed under low security lighting, the city lights twinkling far below like distant stars. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, heart hammering, waiting for him. Marcus. The discreet consultant I'd paid a fortune to keep this arrangement completely silent. No paper trail. No witnesses.
The elevator dinged softly down the hall. My palms were already sweaty. I smoothed my tight pencil skirt, feeling the lace of my expensive lingerie underneath. God, what was I doing? If anyone from the board found out the ruthless CEO of Apex Dynamics was secretly craving this...
The door clicked open. Marcus stepped in, tall, calm, his dark suit tailored perfectly. His eyes locked on mine immediately, that quiet dominant stare that made my knees weak from our very first video call.
"You're late," I whispered, trying to keep some control.
He closed the door behind him, locking it with a soft snick that sent adrenaline spiking through me. Anyone could still walk in—the cleaning crew had keys, security did rounds.
"Strip the jacket. Now." His voice was low, commanding, no negotiation.
I hesitated half a second, pulse racing. The fear of getting caught mixed with a rush that made my pussy clench.
"I said now, bitch."
The word hit me like a spark. My cheeks burned. I shrugged off the designer jacket, letting it drop to the floor. My nipples were already hard against my silk blouse.
Marcus circled me slowly, like he owned the room. "Look at you. High-powered CEO by day, dripping for orders after dark. Bend over your desk."
My breath caught. I moved to the massive mahogany desk, placing my hands flat on the cool wood, arching my back so my ass pushed out. The city sprawled beneath us through the glass. One wrong move and someone with binoculars could see.
He stepped close. I felt the heat of his body, smelled his cologne mixed with raw masculinity. His hand slid up my thigh, pushing the skirt higher.
"Fuck... you're soaked already," he murmured, fingers brushing the damp crotch of my panties. "Say it. Tell me what you are."
I bit my lip, trembling. The words stuck at first.
His palm cracked lightly across my ass—sharp, stinging, but not enough to leave a mark. The sound seemed deafening in the silent office.
"I'm... your bitch," I whispered, voice shaking with shame and need.
"Louder. And spread those legs."
"I'm your bitch," I gasped, parting my thighs wider. My skirt bunched at my waist now. He hooked a finger in my panties and yanked them down roughly, the lace scraping my skin.
"Good girl." His fingers found my swollen clit, circling it with practiced pressure. I moaned, pushing back against his hand desperately.
"Quiet," he hissed, leaning over me so his mouth was at my ear. "You want security to walk in and see the boss getting finger-fucked like a desperate slut? Keep it down, bitch."
The dirty words sent another gush of wetness down my thighs. I nodded frantically, biting my lip harder.
He unzipped his pants. The sound made my stomach flip with anticipation. His thick cock sprang free, hot and heavy as he rubbed the head along my slick folds.
"Please..." I begged in a broken whisper.
"Please what?"
"Fuck me. Use me. I'm your bitch tonight."
He thrust in hard, burying every inch of his cock in my tight pussy in one stroke. I cried out softly, the stretch burning so perfectly. He didn't give me time to adjust—just started pounding me against the desk, the wood creaking under us.
Each thrust made my breasts bounce inside my blouse. His hand fisted in my perfectly styled hair, yanking my head back so I stared at the glass, seeing our reflection faintly—me bent over, skirt around my waist, getting railed by this man I barely knew.
"You love this, don't you?" he growled low, hips slapping against my ass. "All those employees who fear you have no idea their CEO is a submissive little bitch who needs her pussy wrecked after hours."
"Yes... fuck, yes," I moaned, trying to stay quiet. My clit throbbed with every deep stroke. The risk made everything sharper—the distant hum of the elevator, the chance that the night guard might check this floor.
He reached around, pinching my clit between two fingers while he fucked me harder. My legs started shaking.
"I'm gonna cum," I whimpered. "Please let me cum on your cock."
"Cum then, bitch. Make a mess all over your fancy desk."
The orgasm crashed through me like lightning. My pussy clenched around him in pulsing waves, juices squirting slightly onto the polished wood. I had to shove my fist in my mouth to muffle the cry.
Marcus didn't stop. He fucked me through it, grunting softly, his balls slapping my clit.
"Turn around. On your knees."
I slid off the desk on wobbly legs, dropping to the carpet. His cock glistened with my cum, thick and veined, right in front of my face.
"Clean it. Then I'm painting that pretty CEO face."
I took him into my mouth eagerly, tasting myself on his hot skin. My tongue swirled around the head as I sucked him deep, hollowing my cheeks. He groaned quietly, hand gentle but firm on the back of my head.
"That's it... good bitch. Deeper."
I gagged softly but pushed further, nose brushing his trimmed hair. Saliva dripped down my chin onto my blouse. The thrill of being used like this in my own office, where I gave million-dollar presentations, made me ache all over again.
He pulled out suddenly, stroking himself fast. "Open."
I tilted my head back, mouth wide, tongue out, eyes locked on his.
Hot ropes of cum shot across my tongue, my lips, streaking my cheeks. I swallowed what landed in my mouth, the salty taste making me shiver with satisfaction.
Marcus breathed hard, tucking himself away. He looked down at me—disheveled, cum on my face, kneeling in my own office—and smiled.
"Same time tomorrow, bitch?"
I licked a drop from the corner of my mouth, heart still racing from the near-miss adrenaline.
"Yes, Sir."
He left quietly. I stayed on my knees a moment longer, the city lights blurring through the glass, already craving the next risky session.