A
Amalgamation
Guest
“Geez!”
Mr. Jones cursed under his breath as his secretary, Ms. Anderson, paged him with another phone call. As he sat there and watched the little light blinking on his phone, indicating yet another message sent to his voicemail, he stood up with a huff and began pacing his office. Work had been stressful lately with the roll-out of the new product line at his company. Working 16-18 hour days 7 days a week had begun to take its toll on him. His personal life had floundered a long time ago, ever since his ex, Yasmin, has broken the engagement off because of his workaholic tendencies.
“But you don’t understand”, he had protested.
He knew that she had, though, and while he watched her walk away, part of him was secretly glad that she had made the choice, rather than force him to choose between her and work. He hated himself for having made that choice anyway. The times before that had been so good.
He shook himself as he stared out of the windows of his office, tossing those old memories aside, as he does whenever they surface. Watching all of the people outside in a hustle through the concrete jungle of the city brought a wistful smile to his face. Mr. Jones took a deep breath, and turned back around to his desk, pressing the page button.
“Ms. Anderson, please come in for a moment.”
He sat on the corner of his desk, trying to assume a friendly stance with his secretary. As he watched her come in, he reflected on her good points and her bad points. For one, she never dressed appropriately for work. Her skirt was usually very short, or her heels very tall. Her hair usually messy, or wrapped in a quick bun. He could only imagine how she spent her free time. As she opened the door, Mr. Jones regarded her coolly, staring at her too-high stilettos, which gave her legs some shape. His eyes traveled up her legs, finding the hem of her skirt about 5 inches too high, and he swore that he could see her underwear. Shaking himself again, but with a deep disgust, he motioned her toward the couch in his office, just beside the very window he had just been gazing out of. The way that she sat so obediently and waited for his orders, struck him in a different way today, and while he didn’t approve of her, or her clothing, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from what looked to be a bite mark on the inside of her thighs. Examining it, he decided that it was most definitely a bite from a man, probably one with a beard, because there was light bruising around it, as if this man’s facial hair had been imprinted into her thigh.
He must have been engrossed in thought for some time, because he was startled when Ms. Anderson’s demure voice came to him.
“Mr. Jones?”
“Mr. Jones? You asked for me?”
His eyes looked up at her as if it were the first time he had ever glanced her way. He became keenly aware that his office was very hot, and rushed over to adjust the temperature, but also to try and save face, taking the time to wipe a thin bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Um..oh…yes, Ms. Anderson,” he began, “As you..ummm…as you know, we have this important launch coming up soon.”
“Yes, Mr. Jones”, she said, still waiting for the reason he had called her in.
“Ah..yes, of course you do,” Mr. Jones stammered.
He walked around to his desk and sat down behind it. His heart was racing, and he felt weak. Rationalizing it, as he usually did, he decided that it must have been that he needed to eat.
“Ms. Anderson, the next few days are going to require more from all of us. As I model that from the top down, I will be needing you to keep an eye on the workers, to make sure that morale remains high. I don’t have to tell you how essential the success of this launch is for our company. If it-“
“-bombs then we all are out of work.”, finished Ms. Anderson with a smirk. “We have had this talk before. I know what is required of me, sir.”
Mr. Jones looked up and saw her staring right into his eyes, and he jumped back for a moment, before regaining his composure. Standing, trying his best to adopt a regal pose, he stared back into her eyes, but what he saw there unnerved him, so he paced his office to try and avoid her gaze.
“Ms. Anderson, I will need you here in the office from the time that I arrive until the time that I leave until further notice. I will require your help if we are to make this work. Of course, I will compensate you well, and of course your bonus is still in effect if everything goes as I believe that it will. You’re dismissed”, Mr. Jones said stoically and rapidly.
Ms. Anderson stayed seated, looking at him with a polite grin on her face.
“Is there anything else, sir?”, said Ms. Anderson, seemingly amused at Mr. Jones’s bewilderment.
Mr. Jones walked to the door, and opened it quickly, an apparent cue for her to exit his office.
As she stood and walked out of the door, Mr. Jones noticed that she walked out with this unmistakable air of…
Confidence. He didn’t just see it, but he smelled it upon her as she briskly click-clacked her way from his office back to her desk.
Mr. Jones sat back at his desk and pressed the tips of his fingers into his temples, rubbing furiously.
How dare this ridiculous bitch come into MY office acting like she owns it…me. Dressing like a harlot, showing off evidence of her debauchery. I should have fired her on the spot. I can’t wait for this launch to be done, and then I can fire her and her inept ways.
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The next morning, Mr. Jones arrived into the office grumpier than usual, because of a fitful night’s sleep. He had tossed and turned all night, his mind flanked with images of Ms. Anderson’s thighs bitten and marked. When he awoke in a cold sweat, he was even more surprised that he had a very hard erection peeking from between his pajama bottoms. Instead of being angered further, he had allowed his thoughts to do as they would, and he had a lengthy orgasms imagining what her skin might taste like between his teeth. He fantasized about savage bites and even taking her by the throat and making her kneel before him. Unfortunately his alarm sounded before he was able to go back to sleep, and when he thought about his dream becoming a fantasy, he was even more angry and disgusted with himself for the thoughts that he’d had about Ms. Anderson, which made him even more determined to get rid of her before she could become a problem.
As he passed by her empty desk, Mr. Jones smirked, thinking about how he could use her if he had wanted. Based on his dreaming, he had already titled her a slut, and while he still felt some guilt about inappropriate thoughts and his secretary, he now played with them in his mind, relishing the commanding desire that took over his body. He felt powerful.
He felt…alive, for the first time since Yasmin had left. Rushing into his office, he sat down at his desk, eager. He remembered how Yasmin had always been like clay in his hands. He closed his eyes, and he could still smell her pussy on his fingers after he had been inside of her, playing around. A groan escaped his lips as he rubbed his rising cock through his slacks. It had been months since he had dared to masturbate at work, yet it felt like yesterday, as his mind played in between all of the times he and Yasmin had enjoyed during work hours. An evil grin crossed his face as he reached into his pants and took a hold of his heated manhood. Running his hands up and down the rigid shaft, took him back to how she would handle him with the utmost in reverence. Her breathing would grow deeper, ragged, and once she had him leaking precum onto her fist, she would snake her tongue out and taste it, flicking against the small slit in his cock head, and the becoming ravenous, sucking him entirely down her throat with great fanfare.
Relishing the feel of his fist wrapped around his cock, his movements quickened. His head swung back against his chair, as his muscles tightened, ready for what would happen soon. His other hand cupped his balls, squeezing his scrotum hard, coercing more precum from his already leaking cock. Just at the moment when Mr. Jones felt his body finally give, and toss him into the depths of the strongest orgasm he has had since his break-up, he opened his eyes, only to see Ms. Anderson standing in his doorway, eyes wide,
Grinning.
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Mr. Jones looked in horror, as his body continued fulfilling the results of his actions. He could feel his cock pulsing and vibrating, and he knew that Ms. Anderson saw this as well. He tried his hardest to portray an image of complete control, but for some reason, this woman and her eyes pushed past ever façade he tried to throw in front of her. Secretly he was hoping that she would live up to his image of slutdom where she was concerned, and sashay over to clean him up, but she never moved. She simply stood in the doorway, blocking anyone else from seeing, but her eyes never left his. Mr. Jones felt something inside of him pull it together, and instead of putting his cock away, he stood up, intent on putting her in her place once and for all. As he walked over toward her, his anger at her horrible service to him gave him strength. Stepping out of his pants, his stopped 2 feet in front of her, and with every ounce of arrogance and conceit in his arsenal, he opened his mouth and said,
“Close the fucking door.”
Ms. Anderson did not even feign movement. Her eyes did not stray to his cock, but rather stayed fixated on his eyes. Mr. Jones redoubled his efforts, taking another step toward her. Again he told her to close the door, but again she never moved. Mr. Jones bristled at this insubordination. He had so many other things to do. He couldn’t stay here with this woman and play a game of chicken.
“One more time”, he thought to himself.
“Close…the…fucking….door..bitch!”, Mr. Jones said with a sneer, reaching out to grab her by the throat.
His head was swimming by now, his conquest so close at hand. He smiled inside as he finally saw her make a movement, but his smile vanished when she turned around and closed the door as she left his office, literally leaving him with his cock in his hands.
With the click of the door, Mr. Jones sat down heavily on his couch, confused. He knew that she wanted something. Him? He was not so sure now, and as a result, his cocky demeanor could not, would not allow him to rationalize what had just transpired. He pinched himself, hoping that he was somehow still trapped in the surreal fantasy of his dreams, but when he opened his eyes and saw himself still in this same room, with a cock that had left a trail of semen on the carpet from his desk to the couch, he broke. How would he explain this? What would HR say if they saw the tape from the blinking camera in the corner of his office? Better yet,
“What the fuck is wrong with me?”, Mr. Jones asked himself incredulously.
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Mr. Jones stayed in his office for the rest of the day, occupied by the tasks required by his job. This product launch of the new engine protoype for the Dodge brand could change fortunes forever, and the pressure from this singular pursuit was just the distraction that Mr. Jones needed to keep him from straying to the events of earlier that day. Ms. Anderson did her job as usual without even a hint of teasing, or malice. While earlier in the day had been a little more awkward on Mr. Jones’s part, the pace of the day quickly evaporated any kind of nervous energy between them. In truth, their relationship was never boss-subordinate. They worked together as partners, because early on, Mr. Jones had noticed Ms. Anderson’s affinity for anything mechanical, so to call her merely a secretary completely overlooked her skill and precision from an engineering perspective. While he hated to say it, Ms. Anderson had played just as much of an integral role in the development of his idea into a final product than anything else.
As the workday came to a close, Mr. Jones say at his desk, enjoying one final cup of coffee. He knew that his day was far from over, but as he allowed himself to relax for just a few minutes, he pondered his actions from earlier. Always being one for introspection, he rationalized that some kind of leftover feelings for Yasmin had pushed him into the situation from earlier, but the concern returned when everytime he dared think about Yasmin, Ms. Anderson in her short skirt, with that bite mark on her thigh, would reappear, thus leaving him disoriented. It was true that he didn’t care for her as a person. He thought very little of her, but for the first time in their working relationship, he allowed himself to begin to ask why.
“Was it lust?”
Mr. Jones leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up onto his windowsill. He watched the sun begin setting just over the horizon, noting the deep hues of orange and purple that peeked through the clouds. There was something so peaceful about the sky right now, but there was also an underlying force that was as magnetic to him as the pace of his work. Force. Ms. Anderson. With a wry grin, he admitted to himself that her demure appearance belied something deeper in her. The way that she looked at him, it was almost as if she were piercing the veil of his person and seeing what he kept hidden from everybody else. Except Yasmin. She had known all of his secrets, but she had not run away because of them. She stayed because of them. In the end, work won out, but she had kept his secrets, and never spoken of them to anyone. But now, Ms. Anderson knew. He couldn’t figure out how, but that inner voice that counseled him over and over again confirmed his thoughts. She knew.
Coupled with what she had seen of him this morning, Mr. Jones found himself in a very precarious situation. With work so busy, they could easily find ways around any of this. There was no need to discuss, but that nagging counsel in his head also told him that the best way around this was actually through it. He had to confront it, and see just what Ms. Anderson actually knew, and also to see how he could bribe her to keep her mouth sealed about who he was, and what he was about.
Setting his coffee down on the desk, he stood up, fighting that nerves running rampant in his stomach. Against every impulse in his body, he pressed the call button on his phone,
“Ms. Anderson, I need to see you.”
There. He had done it. The conversation would be easy. The hardest part was pressing the button. Only when Ms. Anderson stepped into his office, and immediately closed the door, an inaudible scream ran unabated throughout Mr. Jones’s body. His eyes noticed her heels, leopard print with a red bottom on them. Though he tried, he couldn’t remember the name of them. From there, he saw her quaint, but strong ankles, flaring into full, toned legs, which again grew into thighs barely hidden by a skirt that seemed to only be a thin sliver of fabric. He did not have to look had to see more bite marks on the inside of her thighs, and a cruel shiver ran the length of his spine, culminating in a moan that should have been quiet, yet it’s echoes filled the empty space.
And Ms. Anderson stared into his eyes. Saying nothing, but saying plenty, she stepped toward him. There was that smell again, Mr. Jones realized too late. Confidence.
Three more steps. His heartbeat sped up immensely, and he noticed that his palms had gotten sweaty.
Now standing only 2 steps away from him, Ms. Anderson stopped. Mr. Jones’s eyes were widened into a frantic glare. His breathing was sporadic. Trapped within his mind, he knew that his body had waved the white flag. She had won whatever cruel game had been played over the length of their partnership. He was able to see every unnoticed flirtation. Every smile, grin, and smirk. For the first time, he saw everything for what it was. A web.
And now he was hopelessly caught.
As quickly as those thoughts manifested, they tumbled away as her hand gently caressed his face, brushing innocently across his lips, and then trailed down to his neck. He knew that she could feel the blood pounding in his veins, and he became aware of increasing flares of heat throughout his body, centralizing in his crotch, which felt ablaze at that moment. He felt helpless, and as her hand tightened around his throat, and his breathing became more and more restricted, he whimpered, again against his will, but for the life of him, he had no other recourse.
Ms. Anderson’s hand around his throat was such an unfamiliar sensation, but not entirely unwelcome, and as she squeezed her little hands around his thick neck, she leaned in closely, to make sure that Mr. Jones could hear her delicate whisper.
“Who’s my bitch?”, she hissed.
By her inflection, at her presumed dominance, Mr. Jones’ cock found new life, extending far beyond what it ever had before. It pressed threateningly harder against the fabric of his slacks, close to tearing the zipper from its seams. Cautiously, Mr. Jones found some measure of himself and reached out to touch Ms. Anderson, but she flashed a menacingly fierce glance at him, and he dropped his hands. With her hand still around his throat, she pushed him back against his own wall. Her other hand free for the moment, she tugged at his zipper until it came loose, and then found his cock. Her grip was sure, but soft, yet there was no question as to what her intentions were. Her hand against his cock, skin stretched tight and burning, yearning for her. She reached deeply, finding tightened balls, which she caught in the palm of her hand, and rolled around. At this, Mr. Jones found himself helpless. In fact, she did know him, but not as well as he thought.
And it was in that singular notion that he found his strength. As she stroked his cock and fondled his balls, Mr. Jones allowed himself to be owned. He offered no fight as she stroked and coaxed hi to full girth, and simply closed his eyes, nodding as Ms. Anderson affirmed and reaffirmed her dominance over him.
“You haven’t been especially nice to me, Mr. Jones, or should I just call you bitch. We have worked together for this long, and you’ve not made a single move on me, nor have you respected me enough to truly let me be your partner. Now I’m tired of waiting. Here is my offer. You will be my cock. If you are a good cock, I will make sure that this launch makes us all lots of money. If you aren’t”, she said with a self-assured grin, “I will burn this whole thing to the fucking ground.”
With her hands now rapidly squeezing and rubbing the length of his cock, Mr. Jones moaned aloud, feeling the heat course through his body. He knew that he was cumming all over her hands and fist, but even he was surprised when she drew back calmly, and took her dripping, lifted her skirt, and wiped his semen against her bare pussy. He watched excitedly as she took great care to smear it not only across her labia, but also all over the inside of her thighs. Then, to his complete shock, she turned and walked away, but not before making sure that he saw her wipe the remaining drops on her lips as a sort of balm. He slumped against the wall, disbelief raging through his brain, which was so overheated that it threatened to completely shut down. This was not how he’d seen this happening. She could NOT be in control, but as he watched her walk confidently out of his office and slam HIS door, he could find no way around that simple fact. She owned him.
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The rest of the work day proceeded on autopilot. True to her word, Ms. Anderson was a whirling dervish of activity. She scheduled meetings, oversaw engineering specs, and generally was such a badass that Mr. Jones had nothing to do other than nod his head in agreement. She put out memos, took care of minor nuisances, and even brought lunch into Mr. Jones’ office from his favorite place. She placed it on his desk while he was on the phone with a major vendor, and on top of it was a note. Mr. Jones opened it after she left, and he looked on with embarrassment as his eyes read the slightly worded paper.
“Good cock”, was all it said.
Around 9p.m., Mr. Jones was again looking out of his window at life happening just beyond his reach. As he turned to gather his things to head home for the night, he heard a knock at the door, and then Ms. Anderson stepped into his office.
“Yeah, Ms. Anderson?”, he asked, “how may I help you?”
She stepped into his office, walked over to his couch, and sat down quietly. He watched her silently remove her skirt, fold it, and place it neatly on his coffee table. Then she sat back against the plush pillows, spread her thighs and placed a single finger against her clit. Mr. Jones became instantly aware of the air being sucked out of the room. He felt dizzy at this wanton, overt display of sexuality, but another part of him perked up, and he continued to look on, hiding his amusement.
Ms. Anderson did not look at him now. She only rubbed her clit with that single finger, undulating beneath the apparent pleasure coursing though her body in that moment. Her short, airy gasps came at random intervals, and her skin took on a deepening shade of red. Her spine lifted several times from the pillows, and as Mr. Jones watched her, he could see her labia glistening, which lead to him feeling an immediate urge to be there beside her, perhaps even replacing her finger with his own. His mind was awash in possibilities, catching him up into vivid fantasies, running in conjunction with the soundtrack of her sweet moans and gasps.
“Cock”, came that voice again, breaking through the fog in his mind.
Mr. Jones looked at her, and saw Ms. Anderson still sitting on his couch with two fingers plugged deeply inside of her. Her eyes were closed, but he had the distinct feeling that she knew she had gotten his attention.
“Come here, Cock.”, she said with a firmness that took Mr. Jones aback.
His body responded as if this were natural, and even as his mind fought, he found his feet moving slowly to where she was. She responded as if she just knew that his obedience would come easily, and she then said,
“Kneel Cock.”
Mr. Jones’ body again took over, and he knelt demurely. In his mind, a fierce argument was taking place. This was not who he was. Just who did this woman think that she was? Who did she think-
His thoughts ceased when she spoke again.
“Cock, you were so good today. I told you that when you were a good cock, things would run smoothly, did I not?” she purred.
“Yes, Ms. Anderson”, he said in a voice not his own.
“Call me ma’am when it’s just us, Cock.”, she snapped, before falling back into her moans of enjoyment.
Mr. Jones could hear the wetness of her pussy as her fingers slid deeply into her over and over again. The squishy sounds had him closer to orgasm than anything he had ever experienced before, yet for reasons he could not understand. Why was he giving in? He was making this too easy. He needed to fight, but as Ms. Anderson’s voice cut through his mind conversation again, he innately focused in on what she had to say.
“I’ve seen you staring at my thighs, Cock. You like the bruises on them? I bet you have even fantasized about what it would be like for you to taste my thighs, haven’t you, Cock? Would you like to be a good Cock and bite my thighs while I pleasure myself? Would that make you a happier Cock?, she teased.
A hunger unlike any he had ever felt set itself firmly at root within him, and he utterly despised both him for wanting it, and her for teasing him. She was willfully humiliating him, but she was also right. As he watched her thighs shivering, his mouth watered. He had to have that succulent flesh in his mouth. The more he stared, the hungrier he became, so much so that he felt that he would absolutely perish if he could not taste her thighs and leave his own marks there.
“Yes ma’am”, came his quiet, mousy voice, “Please let me taste your thighs. I need to taste them.”
“Come here, Cock. Mark me.”, she said in between moans that were coming more frequently.
She spread her thighs even more, and as he leaned in and opened his lips, he felt her hand on the back of his neck, pressing his mouth onto her thigh. Upon first taste, Mr. Jones lost all sense of himself. He nibbled and licked, kissed and bit her thighs with such enthusiasm that he wondered if he might hurt her. Several times he bit her hard, imagining how beautiful her thighs would look with his teeth imprinted on them. Even more times, a quaint lick brought an audible scream from her mouth. With her skin between his teeth, and his tongue running over it, he could taste his where she had smeared his semen against them as well, which made his cock throb so hard, he feared that he would cum without any physical touch at all.
Soon, he felt her body begin to stiffen, but he dared not stop. When she cried out from orgasming, he stayed faithful to his job, only slightly aware that his pants were not wet from his cock leaking massive amounts of precum against them. When she finally came down, she placed a hand on his neck, pulling him away, causing him to whimper like a sick puppy. He hated himself again for that response, but only then was he finally aware of how aroused he was. Ms. Anderson looked down at her thighs, both harsh shades of red, marked severely by Mr. Jones’ teeth. She ran her fingers against them, and closed her eyes while giving deep, contented sighs, shuddering as the aftershocks of her orgasm still ran through her system.
“You were quite a hungry Cock, weren’t you?”, she said as she rubbed his head, almost as if an owner would pet a dog.
Mr. Jones knew that he did not like that visual in his head, but in a way, he also did. His inner conflict took over. Images of pulling her by her hair, across his desk and taking what should have been rightfully his took over. He even growled a bit as he thought about repaying her smug comments today over and over again. As he looked up at her, he was startled to see her looking at him in that observant way that she had come to do lately. Her eyes shone with approval, and as her smell reached his nostrils again, he melted again into a ball of obedience, loyalty, and lust. All thoughts of domineering gone away.
He watched from his knees as she stood up and placed her skirt back on. Then as she walked toward the still open door, she departed with an enthused,
“Have a great evening, Mr. Jones! See you bright and early tomorrow morning!
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Mr. Jones found himself in a furious state of arousal for the entire night. He couldn’t even close his eyes without reliving the events of the day, and as he relived them, he couldn’t help but feel her hand on his cock, around his throat. As he masturbated repeatedly that night, while tossing in his bed, be frequently found his hand traveling to his throat and applying pressure, which lead to him having the most violent orgasms that he could ever remember having. At around 3 the next morning, after having cum for the third time, he got up and changed the sheets on his bed. When finished, he sat heavily on the bed with his head massaging his temples.
“What is going on with me?”, Mr. Jones lamented. “This isn’t me. Why am I letting this woman control me? I have to regain control of this situation.”
To remedy his stress, Mr. Jones did what he normally did in these cases. He exercised. Pulling on his sweats and old college hoody, he put on his headphones and a headlight, and took off on a brisk run around his neighborhood. The air was cool and crisp, the wind felt good as it hit him across the face. It felt almost like a slap back to reality. Repeating his core mantras in his ears over the course of the 3 miles he ran, Mr. Jones began to feel that centered again. His thoughts finally turned from Ms. Anderson toward the mental list of everything that needed done on that day. Working through any potential problems, by the time he arrived back home, he felt self assured, and ready to be conquer the day with energy to spare. Nary a thought of Ms. Anderson returned as he showered and dressed quickly for work.
As he pulled into the office and walked through the doors, he could hear the guys in the machine shop hard at work. The clanging of hammers was music to his ears. He stopped in to see how they were, and before he knew it, he had on goggles and gear, and was working right beside them to try and correct a flaw in the build. As the final product emerged from the 3D printer, and they measured it against the raw build of earlier, the guys had a huge celebratory high-five moment, and Mr. Jones felt even more accomplished. The rush of success had him heady and on cloud nine. So much so, that he only paid Ms. Anderson a cursory amount of attention as he cruised past her and walked into his own office 3 hours later. Not even 5 minutes after he had settled in at his desk to review his emails, Ms. Anderson walked in with his schedule book to review the day’s meetings and priorities. She also brought his coffee in and set it down on his desk.
“Good morning, Ms. Anderson!”, Mr. Jones said cheerfully, still on a high from the machine shop experience.
Ms. Anderson nodded her head shyly, and read off all of the things on the docket for the day.
“......and somewhere at the end of the day we need to meet about the suppliers coming in tomorrow. I saw the builds that you all made this morning and they are brilliant, but we still have 5 more protoypes to build for their review. I made the sketches last night, to fix the problems that have kept haunting us with the X76J design, but I need your eyes to help me be sure that we are on the right path.”, she said, never looking up.
Mr. Jones looked at her as she spoke, but soon found his eyes roaming down toward her thighs. True to form, her skirt was not office appropriate, but as his eyes saw her thighs, the big red bruises stares back at him, taunting and beckoning him again. Noticing his gaze, Ms. Anderson walked toward his desk and set a tiny box down. As she turned to leave the office, she ran hand over her thigh and remarked over how cold it was. Mr. Jones watched her walk out of his office, her heels click-clacking on the hardwood of the floors. He took a deep breath, trying to stave off the images flashing before his eyes, but had no luck. He stood up and paced around his office, then finally closed his door and laid down on his couch, but that too was short lived, for as he smelled Ms. Anderson’s wetness from yesterday still in the fabric, he felt himself fall back down into the dark hole of the day before.
Looking up at the box on his desk, a sense of dread overcame him, but it was flanked oddly enough by excitement. Evidently it was something from her. For him. He walked over to his desk and picked the box up. When he flipped up the top, there he saw a light blue rubber bracelet, the kind that everyone tends to use for free advertisement.
“Weird”, he thought to himself.
But as he picked it up and inspected the writing on the bracelet, Mr. Jones was overcome with some kind of emotion that he had never felt, and thus could not properly identify. He was intensely aroused, yet fiercely confused as to why. The bracelet had two letters on it, but those two letters rocked Mr. Jones to his core.
“GC”, he muttered to himself while wiping sweat from his brow. Good Cock.
Beneath the bracelet he noticed a folded piece of paper. Picking it up and reading, Mr. Jones could not help but smile against his will, but he also instantly became aware of his pants feeling very tight and uncomfortable. He read the note once, but then felt the unmistakable urge to reread it aloud the second time.
“You were such a good cock yesterday. I’d like to thank you for my new thigh decorations. None of the others were even remotely as enthusiastic as you were. Keep being such a good cock, and you’ll keep being rewarded. Now put on your ‘collar’, and be proud that you’re my good cock.”
Mr. Jones’ smile vanished as he read the part about the others. Crushing the paper in his fist, he tossed it, the box, and the bracelet into his trash. A furious sense of jealousy filled his mind, which was accompanied by anger, first at even being viewed in submissive light, but also at being merely one of “others”. Who did she think she was?
It was at the moment when a plan came to mind. Ms. Anderson was going to have a very interesting day.
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Mr. Jones worked the rest of his day as usual, making sure that he was about the business of keeping things on track. After all, the meeting was tomorrow, and there was much to do. As he did all of this, he made sure to keep Ms. Anderson in front of him at all times. He made a great show of inviting her into his office, sitting beside her on the couch, calling her “Ma’am” in salacious whispers, and treating her well. He also made a great show of making any motion that would require him to show off his wrist, the same wrist that did not have the bracelet on it. He noticed every time he did it, that her eyes would glance up, expecting to see him branded by the “GC”, and every time he put his wrist down, he felt some measure of victory as his plan played out perfectly. He could look at her eyes and see how unsure she was. Her interactions with him were awkward, lacking the confidence that she had exuded previously.
The day came to a close, and at around 8 o’clock, Ms. Anderson paged in and asked him if he was ready for their consult over the design plans, to which Mr. Jones replied affirmatively. He smiled to himself, as excited to spring his trap.
Ms. Anderson walked in and closed the door behind her. Mr. Jones saw the confidence on her once again, but that was replaced by shock as she saw him naked, standing in the center of the room. He watched her eyes travel from his eyes, to his lips, down further until she centered in on his cock ,which was wearing a new decoration. Hanging from his mushroomed head was the blue bracelet with “GC” inscribed on it. Mr. Jones grinned as her saw a shiver travel through Ms. Anderson’s body, and her hand instinctively rub the red spots on her thighs where his teeth had been 24 hours earlier. He correctly judged her as she decided how to best proceed, so he pressed his advantage.
“Ma’am”, he said sincerely, “I thought that this might be a more apt placement for your gift. I hope that you approve.”
Ms. Anderson regarded him curiously, and walked forward to where he stood. Her hand found his cock and stroked it a bit, running the rubber softly up and down his shaft until he began to form small droplets of precum. She removed the bracelet and placed it on his wrist, and then walked over to the couch where she again removed her skirt and began folding it to put it away.
“Ma’am”, Mr. Jones began shyly, “I was hoping that you might use me at my desk this time?”
Ms. Anderson considered his request, and stood up. As she walked toward him, Mr. Jones could see his marks on her, and his want to do it again fought against his resolve to see his plan through to fruition. He noticed that he was shivering, and did his best to avert his eyes away from her thighs, but he found that staring at any other part of her inspired the same reaction, and so he closed his eyes completely to find his focus. He jumped when he felt her fingers tracing down his chest, first down, and then up to his neck. He moaned at the feel of her so close to him. He could smell her fragrant aroma. All of this combined with his raging lust made it hard for him to remain still. He could feel his cock jumping, and leaking onto the floors. Her touch burned him in the best ways. It was if her fire was liquid, and penetrated his pores, consuming him with pleasure. Her hand clasped his throat and squeezed, pushing him back against the edge of his desk.
“So”, she whispered, “My Cock deigns to make a request of me? I think he may have forgotten his place is between my legs, and not in my face.”
Her hand tightened again. Mr. Jones marveled that she held such strength in those tiny hands. His oxygen intake was slowly being compromised, but he played his role. It wasn’t that hard actually, because according to his body, he was really aroused right now. When he felt the edge of his desk, he knew that it was almost time. He was just unsure of what she would do next, and how it would turn it around into his favor. Once he was firmly against his desk, Mr. Jones felt Ms. Anderson remove her hand from his neck and place it around his cock, getting it coated in precum. She looked him in his eye and sucked one finger, closing her eyes as she savored the taste. This pleased Mr. Jones to no end, though he tried his best not to show his eagerness.
Pushing him onto his desk first, Ms. Anderson continued pushing until Mr. Jones was on his back on his desk. Then she climbed up herself and stood over him. In that moment, Mr. Jones was glad that his desk was quality, or else things might be very different. He tried hiding hide, but when he looked up, those confident eyes were looking at him in a very displeased manner. She wagged her index finger at him,
“Tsk, tsk, tsk….Good Cock is misbehaving. Let’s see how much he smiles now.”
As her voice trailed off, Mr. Jones looked up and realized that she was standing right over his head. He marveled at the beauty and strength of her legs, and how they flexed, but even more his eyes caught view of swollen labia, and he realized that maybe she was about to straddle his face. Horror struck him at that moment, because he knew that if she did, he would indeed be powerless, because having a wet pussy on his face was one of the things that always sent him over the edge. He had found with Yasmin that no physical touch was necessary for him to cum when he had the fortune of having his face smothered with a warm, wet vagina. He licked his lips in anticipation, but almost whimpered a bit when Ms. Anderson spoke again.
“Good Cocks get my reward. I can feel you staring. I think it’s kinda hot”, she teased, “but Bad Cocks only get taunted. Besides, you couldn’t handle what I have right here. But I’ll let you taste it. Just not the way you want to.”
He watched as she slid a finger between her thighs and slapped the folds of her labia. The sounds cascaded down into his ears and sounded like a symphony of pleasure. Her knees buckled just a tad, but she remained standing. As she continued slapping her pussy, Mr. Jones noticed his face being hit by random drops of wetness. Focusing in, he could see that she was just so wet, that every slap was causing more and more leakage to rain down on his face. Before long, he was wiggling beneath her, trying to manuever himself into optimal position to catch some drops in his mouth, yet whenever he did move, as if anticipating his excitement, Ms. Anderson would shift her weight, and cause it to miss his mouth entirely, hitting his eyelids instead, or raining down on top of his bad head. Soon enough, he resigned himself to staying perfectly still, and watching as she moved from slapping her labia to quickly sliding two fingers deeply and fucking herself at a quick pace. He heard her moans coming in dulcet tones, and the random droplets became more of a steady trickling from between his legs, onto his lips as almost a glaze. Mr. Jones moaned aloud and licked his lips, frantically tasting every drop that graced them.
As she got closer to cumming, her fingers were a blur. Mr. Jones was so caught in the bliss of tasting her pussy that he failed to notice her lowering herself onto his face, and let out a muffled yelp when he found his mouth completely covered by a very close-to-orgasming pussy. His tongue struck out of it’s own accord, licking and lapping with all of the strength that it could muster. She ground her pussy into his open mouth, forcing his lips apart farther and farther, just as his tongue forced her labia apart by the same token. She leaned forward and slapped his spasming cock, causing him to moan into her and cause her insides to rejoice from the vibrations. When she reached further still and squeezed his testicles, Mr. Jones cried out from the pain, but never ceased his actions. Very quickly thereafter he felt her body tighten. It wound so tightly that he feared that she would burst, but when she did flex again, his mouth was flooded by juices that ran so hard and fast that he could not contain it all. Oh the flavor. He was heady. The sensations of her cumming into his mouth, and his testicles being squeezed became too much for him. As if to add to his torture, Ms. Anderson proceeded to leave his mouth, and smear herself all over his face, leaving wet, sticky trails wherever she moved. Then she was still, breathing deeply. And that is when Mr. Jones took action.
Reaching up to grab her thighs, he caught her by surprise when he pulled her down. She went to scream in protest, but he placed his hand over her mouth and pulled her bare pussy back against his still squirming cock. She fought him, eyes wide, knowing what was coming, but Mr. Jones held her fast. Thrusting his cock fully inside of her, he held her back against him, and then hissed into her ears,
“Does this still count as Good Cock, Ma’am?”
He smiled gleefully as Ms. Anderson did everything that she could to get away from him. She scratched him, leaving bloody marks on his arms. She hit him with her fists, and tried stomping on his toes, but by the 3rd thrust of his cock those same hands that had scratched him before, we wrapped backwards around his neck, welcoming his lips on her neck and shoulders. Now free, his hands ripped the buttons of her blouse away, freeing breasts that were not large, but heavy and perky. He drove deep inside of her, while using his fingers to tease and pinch her nipples. Several times he slapped her breasts at the exact time that his cock touched the deepest parts of her.
“Hmmm, maybe I should come up with a name for you”, gasped Mr. Jones breathlessly as he fucked her the way he had fantasized, “though maybe you don’t deserve a name. I think we both see who has the power here. You’d do well to remember. I may love tasting your pussy, and I may also love tasting your thighs, but you’re my slut. For my use. Remember that.”
At that, Ms. Anderson cried out, slumping back against him. His battle won, Mr. Jones grunted, gritted his teeth and sunk his teeth again into her reddened back. He released all of his pent up desire inside of her. She screamed as she felt the sweet burn of him joining her already moist, creamy pussy. When Mr. Jones finally stopped bucking and grinding into her, Ms. Anderson tried walking away, but found her movement impeded. Mr. Jones leaned into her, placing a hand around her neck, and kissed her on the cheek.
When he finally released her, Mr. Jones wore a smug look on his face, to counter the confused one on hers. As he watched her stumble to grab her clothes and put them back on, Mr. Jones came up beside her, holding the bracelet.
“So, uhh….should I put this back on now?”, he smirked.
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Mr. Jones awakened the next morning after a dreamless sleep feeling as revitalized as he could remember feeling in a long time. Today was the day of the big meeting, and while he and Ms. Anderson had not worked on the designs last night after all, he felt like order had been restored to the world, and thus the day should go off without a hitch. He whistled while he showered, pausing to take time and relive the events of the previous evening. Leaning back against the shower tile, he used his soap to recreate the feel of Ms. Anderson’s pussy. He groaned as he recalled how tight and welcoming it was, but also the intense heat that it emitted. He was so lost in the memories that he achieved orgasm much quicker than he had intended to, but as he slumped to the floor of the shower while warm water ran down every part of him, he found himself looking forward to the next time that he could claim her. Truth be told, he actually liked Ms. Anderson, but she just needed to be shown her place. Things might actually work out to where he doesn’t have to fire her after all.
That thought actually made him smile.
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At work, things were going according to plan. Ms. Anderson had called an emergency meeting before Mr. Jones got in, so that when he got to the office all of the designs had been printed off and were placed in the conference room. All copies had been made, and were neatly placed into fancy folders with each participant’s name on the cover. As Mr. Jones inspected everything, he found himself very pleased. Everything was in its place. Even the shop had been shined. The workers walked around looking nice and clean. He felt his heart swell with pride, because today was the day that all of their dreams would come true.
As he walked through the office, he remembered the early days. He had been a college drop-out, because he was more interested in girls than getting an education. Additionally, he felt like the professors were only interested in making a paycheck, not his betterment. His parents had been so angry with him, yet even in those days, he’d had a dream of starting his own machining shop. He had always enjoyed working with his hands, and some of his fondest memories had been getting greasy with his father at his repair shop. So, when he dropped out of school, he worked at several shops in town, learning all that he could about engine repair and improvement. When he came up with his first enhancement for the fuel injector, he knew that he was on his way. And when his first auto supplier gave him a contract, the ball had quickly gotten rolling. He had failed, but never quit.
“Those hard early days paved the way for today!”, he whispered to himself excitedly.
As he walked the halls, thanking everyone for their role in getting things ready, he came upon MS. Anderson fixing his morning coffee. Entering the lounge, he walked in slowly behind her and leaned into her ears, whsipering,
“Good morning!”
She jumped, wasting coffee on the floor, but otherwise appeared unrattled when she turned around and flashed her same demure smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Jones”, she said detachedly.
“I wanted to thank you”, he said, “for all of your work to help make this possible. I decided that no matter how this goes, you still deserve your bonus. Nobody has worked more hours around here than you. I appreciate you. I know I haven’t said it, but I do. Oh, and thank you for a longer skirt today.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. Passing it to her, he waited while she opened it, looking on satisfactorily as her eyes got wide, and she smile a beautiful one. He didn’t wait for her to thank him, but rather went back to his office to prepare his notes for the meeting. Shuffling through his note cards, he paced back and forth across the room, adding inflections where necessary. He was determined. They had worked too hard for this to fall through, and he resolved on his watch, that would not be the case.
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The first indication that something was off came at 9:15a.m. Mr. Jones sat in his office still reading through his notes when he looked at his watch. The meeting was supposed to start at 8:45, but no one had come to get him. He paged Ms. Anderson and got no answer, so he decided to walk to the conference room. The hallways were strangely silent as he casually strolled through them. A sense of dread pulled in his stomach, but he ignored it and continued searching. Reaching the conference room, he saw no one there. The folders were still tucked neatly at their spots on the tables. Mr. Jones picked up his cell phone to see if he’d had any missed calls. There were none, but just as he went to try calling Ms. Anderson again, a text from her came through.
Pulling up iMessage, his blood ran cold as he read the message from Ms. Anderson.
“I told you that Good Cock would be well rewarded, but since you insisted on being Bad Cock, now you get to reap the consequences. Put the damn bracelet on and send me a picture. Maybe then I’ll tell you where we are meeting.”
Shock set in as he read, then reread, the message. His mind swirled with the possibilities. She was holding his company hostage! Anger quickly turned into white, hot rage as he thought about the gall of Ms. Anderson to take their game to this level. Mindlessly furious, he punched the wall, then immediately regretted it as his fist swelled. Running to the lounge, he wrapped his hand in ice, and took a seat to think for a moment. Running through all of the possible scenarios, the only conclusion he could arrive at was that she was serious. He walked to his office and grabbed the bracelet. As he looked at it, running his fingers over the “GC”, his mind went back to a couple of days ago when all of this had even started. The images pained him, as he thought that they were turning a corner, then anger returned and he slid the bracelet on and snapped the picture with his phone. Disgusted with himself for letting things go as far as they had, he rubbed his temples at his desk while waiting for her to text him back. His phone notified him that a new message had come in. Standing up, ready to go, he opened the message, but instead of words, there was only a picture of her thighs, marked still by his teeth. Then another message came through. It was a picture of the supplier reps standing around in a circle. She wasn’t playing.
“Ding.” Another message.
“Are you ready to be Good Cock again?”
She was baiting him. Mr. Jones sat there with an incredulous look on his face. He was still having trouble believing that on the greatest day of his company, this could be happening. Still, he decided to play along until he could retake the reins.
“Yes, Ma’am. I’m your Good Cock.”
“Ding.” Another message.
An address. 3159 Mardello.
“IF you want your business back, get here quickly, Good Cock.”
Mr. Jones ran down the hallway as quickly as his legs would carry him, and was in his car, peeling out of the parking garage in a flash. Queuing up his GPS, he sped down the streets, not even caring about the presence of several police officers he passed as he did his best to find the address that Ms. Anderson had sent him. After about 20 minutes, he found himself in a residential area, with cookie-cutter houses, behind tall gates. His GPS alerted him that he had arrived, and when he looked up, he saw a house that he could only hope in his wildest dreams to ever even visit. Marble columns on the outside, a porch with ornate decorations. Shaking himself, Mr. Jones focused again, finding the doorbell, but just as he went to ring it, he saw something in the corner of his eye that gave him pause. Hanging from the doorknob was a small powder blue bracelet, not unlike the one that he wore around his wrist right now. Upon closer inspection, he saw the initials “GC” on it.
Taking a chance, he turned the doorknob and found it open. At first he rushed in, but then thought the better of it, opening the door slowly and stepping inside with his eyes shooting from side to side to survey his new surroundings. From the corner of the room he thought he heard sound, which lead to him walking cautiously toward what he thought were sighs. Peeking his head around the column flanking that corner of the room, he saw her. Ms. Anderson. Thighs spread. Breasts bared. Her head was upright, but her eyes were glassy. Somehow he knew that she still saw him. Her eyes were locked on him, even as she moaned from her fingers rubbing her clit. He looked at the blur of activity, and his anger melted. Replaced instead by intense need, his feet moved him closer and closer, until he was close enough for her to reach out and touch.
“So this is your trap for me?”, he managed to say through a suddenly dry throat.
She didn’t answer him immediately. Instead she slid her finger inside of her pussy and wiggled it around. Pulling it out, she took an obscene lick and then held it out to him.
“Taste.”
Mr. Jones forced himself to stand perfectly still, even though everything in him wanted to obey her. His mouth watered. His senses could pick up her scent. It was the same scent that he had taste the day prior. The same scent that he had allowed to linger on his cock while he masturbated before sleep that night. It was that scent that made him forget all of his anger. That scent. That woman, who had driven him to madness with her stunt a couple of days ago. The woman who had so incensed him now, that against his better judgement, with the fate of his business hanging in the balance, the only thing he could think of was pleasuring her completely. As his defenses and walls were completely battered by this assault from Ms. Anderson, he found hmself kneeling, his mouth open, and his tastebuds embracing her finger with her scent, and her smell. That heady feeling overtook him again.
He was helpless.
“Yes, Ma’am!”, he moaned while licking and sucking on her delicious finger, “Your Good Cock needs you.”
She moaned deeply, shoving fingers from her other hand inside of her, apparently finding new levels of pleasure in his declaration. Her head leaned back, and she pulled her finger from his mouth, beckoning him between her legs. He moved quickly, groaning as she offered her thigh to his lips. He opened his lips and sunk his teeth again into her delectable flesh. His cock throbbed all over again, as he thought about marking her. He could feel her fingers plunging in and out of her pussy, making suction sounds indicating how aroused she was. He could smell the intensity of it all, which drove him to new heights of need. As she moaned, he found himself moaning, and his breathing in time with her own. His mind screamed with the desire to do a good job for her. Her other hand pulled him by his ears, and reset him right at her pussy, even as her fingers were still occupied.
His tongue tasted her again, then he flicked her clit. Ms. Anderson shrieked, and her body went rigid. Her thighs closed down around his head, squeezing tightly. She all but stopped breathing for almost a minute, but Mr. Jones never stopped his licking and tasting. He was on autopilot. Mindless. He no longer tried to fight it. She had him. He was hers.
Then as if reading his mind, she purred contentedly, and then pulled him to his feet. She kissed him, licking his lips and feeling her juices running down his chin. She licked those up as well, before unzipping his pants and pulling out his wet cock, which had been leaking since her first saw her in the house. She stroked it easily, coaxing more and more precum from him, and delighting in his moans.
“Please, Ma’am”, he begged, “use your Good Cock…”
Ms. Anderson smiled. Then she dipped down onto her knees and stared up at him with anxious eyes. Confused, Mr. Jones looked down at her for answers.
She looked innocently up at him once again, gave his cock a prolonged lick, and then said,
“Now it’s your turn, Sir. Use me until you’re done. Your pleasure is my own.”
Mr. Jones’ mind swam with possibilities. There was so much that he wanted to say in that moment, answers that he needed, things about the business, but the only words that made sense were,
“I love you.”
Then he took her by the hair and slid his cock down her throat, allowing her to say it back to him repeatedly.
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Hours passed. In the end, they lay in a tangled mess of sex. When Ms. Anderson had urged Mr. Jones to use her, he had done just that. Every hole, every position they could think of, and now they both were spent in every way. Breathing deeply, Mr. Jones kissed her forehead and asked the question he had been intending to ask when he first got there,
“So, my business is safe?”
She looked up at him with a sneaky grin, though he mentally remarked on how beautiful it was, as if it were his first time truly seeing her. Then she said,
“I may have….kind of….rescheduled everything with the suppliers last night after you left the office. So, Monday...yeah.”
He laughed out loud, so much so that she soon found herself joining him, at least until he grabbed her by her throat and kissed her deeply.
And then they used each other again.
And again.
Mr. Jones cursed under his breath as his secretary, Ms. Anderson, paged him with another phone call. As he sat there and watched the little light blinking on his phone, indicating yet another message sent to his voicemail, he stood up with a huff and began pacing his office. Work had been stressful lately with the roll-out of the new product line at his company. Working 16-18 hour days 7 days a week had begun to take its toll on him. His personal life had floundered a long time ago, ever since his ex, Yasmin, has broken the engagement off because of his workaholic tendencies.
“But you don’t understand”, he had protested.
He knew that she had, though, and while he watched her walk away, part of him was secretly glad that she had made the choice, rather than force him to choose between her and work. He hated himself for having made that choice anyway. The times before that had been so good.
He shook himself as he stared out of the windows of his office, tossing those old memories aside, as he does whenever they surface. Watching all of the people outside in a hustle through the concrete jungle of the city brought a wistful smile to his face. Mr. Jones took a deep breath, and turned back around to his desk, pressing the page button.
“Ms. Anderson, please come in for a moment.”
He sat on the corner of his desk, trying to assume a friendly stance with his secretary. As he watched her come in, he reflected on her good points and her bad points. For one, she never dressed appropriately for work. Her skirt was usually very short, or her heels very tall. Her hair usually messy, or wrapped in a quick bun. He could only imagine how she spent her free time. As she opened the door, Mr. Jones regarded her coolly, staring at her too-high stilettos, which gave her legs some shape. His eyes traveled up her legs, finding the hem of her skirt about 5 inches too high, and he swore that he could see her underwear. Shaking himself again, but with a deep disgust, he motioned her toward the couch in his office, just beside the very window he had just been gazing out of. The way that she sat so obediently and waited for his orders, struck him in a different way today, and while he didn’t approve of her, or her clothing, he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from what looked to be a bite mark on the inside of her thighs. Examining it, he decided that it was most definitely a bite from a man, probably one with a beard, because there was light bruising around it, as if this man’s facial hair had been imprinted into her thigh.
He must have been engrossed in thought for some time, because he was startled when Ms. Anderson’s demure voice came to him.
“Mr. Jones?”
“Mr. Jones? You asked for me?”
His eyes looked up at her as if it were the first time he had ever glanced her way. He became keenly aware that his office was very hot, and rushed over to adjust the temperature, but also to try and save face, taking the time to wipe a thin bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Um..oh…yes, Ms. Anderson,” he began, “As you..ummm…as you know, we have this important launch coming up soon.”
“Yes, Mr. Jones”, she said, still waiting for the reason he had called her in.
“Ah..yes, of course you do,” Mr. Jones stammered.
He walked around to his desk and sat down behind it. His heart was racing, and he felt weak. Rationalizing it, as he usually did, he decided that it must have been that he needed to eat.
“Ms. Anderson, the next few days are going to require more from all of us. As I model that from the top down, I will be needing you to keep an eye on the workers, to make sure that morale remains high. I don’t have to tell you how essential the success of this launch is for our company. If it-“
“-bombs then we all are out of work.”, finished Ms. Anderson with a smirk. “We have had this talk before. I know what is required of me, sir.”
Mr. Jones looked up and saw her staring right into his eyes, and he jumped back for a moment, before regaining his composure. Standing, trying his best to adopt a regal pose, he stared back into her eyes, but what he saw there unnerved him, so he paced his office to try and avoid her gaze.
“Ms. Anderson, I will need you here in the office from the time that I arrive until the time that I leave until further notice. I will require your help if we are to make this work. Of course, I will compensate you well, and of course your bonus is still in effect if everything goes as I believe that it will. You’re dismissed”, Mr. Jones said stoically and rapidly.
Ms. Anderson stayed seated, looking at him with a polite grin on her face.
“Is there anything else, sir?”, said Ms. Anderson, seemingly amused at Mr. Jones’s bewilderment.
Mr. Jones walked to the door, and opened it quickly, an apparent cue for her to exit his office.
As she stood and walked out of the door, Mr. Jones noticed that she walked out with this unmistakable air of…
Confidence. He didn’t just see it, but he smelled it upon her as she briskly click-clacked her way from his office back to her desk.
Mr. Jones sat back at his desk and pressed the tips of his fingers into his temples, rubbing furiously.
How dare this ridiculous bitch come into MY office acting like she owns it…me. Dressing like a harlot, showing off evidence of her debauchery. I should have fired her on the spot. I can’t wait for this launch to be done, and then I can fire her and her inept ways.
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The next morning, Mr. Jones arrived into the office grumpier than usual, because of a fitful night’s sleep. He had tossed and turned all night, his mind flanked with images of Ms. Anderson’s thighs bitten and marked. When he awoke in a cold sweat, he was even more surprised that he had a very hard erection peeking from between his pajama bottoms. Instead of being angered further, he had allowed his thoughts to do as they would, and he had a lengthy orgasms imagining what her skin might taste like between his teeth. He fantasized about savage bites and even taking her by the throat and making her kneel before him. Unfortunately his alarm sounded before he was able to go back to sleep, and when he thought about his dream becoming a fantasy, he was even more angry and disgusted with himself for the thoughts that he’d had about Ms. Anderson, which made him even more determined to get rid of her before she could become a problem.
As he passed by her empty desk, Mr. Jones smirked, thinking about how he could use her if he had wanted. Based on his dreaming, he had already titled her a slut, and while he still felt some guilt about inappropriate thoughts and his secretary, he now played with them in his mind, relishing the commanding desire that took over his body. He felt powerful.
He felt…alive, for the first time since Yasmin had left. Rushing into his office, he sat down at his desk, eager. He remembered how Yasmin had always been like clay in his hands. He closed his eyes, and he could still smell her pussy on his fingers after he had been inside of her, playing around. A groan escaped his lips as he rubbed his rising cock through his slacks. It had been months since he had dared to masturbate at work, yet it felt like yesterday, as his mind played in between all of the times he and Yasmin had enjoyed during work hours. An evil grin crossed his face as he reached into his pants and took a hold of his heated manhood. Running his hands up and down the rigid shaft, took him back to how she would handle him with the utmost in reverence. Her breathing would grow deeper, ragged, and once she had him leaking precum onto her fist, she would snake her tongue out and taste it, flicking against the small slit in his cock head, and the becoming ravenous, sucking him entirely down her throat with great fanfare.
Relishing the feel of his fist wrapped around his cock, his movements quickened. His head swung back against his chair, as his muscles tightened, ready for what would happen soon. His other hand cupped his balls, squeezing his scrotum hard, coercing more precum from his already leaking cock. Just at the moment when Mr. Jones felt his body finally give, and toss him into the depths of the strongest orgasm he has had since his break-up, he opened his eyes, only to see Ms. Anderson standing in his doorway, eyes wide,
Grinning.
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Mr. Jones looked in horror, as his body continued fulfilling the results of his actions. He could feel his cock pulsing and vibrating, and he knew that Ms. Anderson saw this as well. He tried his hardest to portray an image of complete control, but for some reason, this woman and her eyes pushed past ever façade he tried to throw in front of her. Secretly he was hoping that she would live up to his image of slutdom where she was concerned, and sashay over to clean him up, but she never moved. She simply stood in the doorway, blocking anyone else from seeing, but her eyes never left his. Mr. Jones felt something inside of him pull it together, and instead of putting his cock away, he stood up, intent on putting her in her place once and for all. As he walked over toward her, his anger at her horrible service to him gave him strength. Stepping out of his pants, his stopped 2 feet in front of her, and with every ounce of arrogance and conceit in his arsenal, he opened his mouth and said,
“Close the fucking door.”
Ms. Anderson did not even feign movement. Her eyes did not stray to his cock, but rather stayed fixated on his eyes. Mr. Jones redoubled his efforts, taking another step toward her. Again he told her to close the door, but again she never moved. Mr. Jones bristled at this insubordination. He had so many other things to do. He couldn’t stay here with this woman and play a game of chicken.
“One more time”, he thought to himself.
“Close…the…fucking….door..bitch!”, Mr. Jones said with a sneer, reaching out to grab her by the throat.
His head was swimming by now, his conquest so close at hand. He smiled inside as he finally saw her make a movement, but his smile vanished when she turned around and closed the door as she left his office, literally leaving him with his cock in his hands.
With the click of the door, Mr. Jones sat down heavily on his couch, confused. He knew that she wanted something. Him? He was not so sure now, and as a result, his cocky demeanor could not, would not allow him to rationalize what had just transpired. He pinched himself, hoping that he was somehow still trapped in the surreal fantasy of his dreams, but when he opened his eyes and saw himself still in this same room, with a cock that had left a trail of semen on the carpet from his desk to the couch, he broke. How would he explain this? What would HR say if they saw the tape from the blinking camera in the corner of his office? Better yet,
“What the fuck is wrong with me?”, Mr. Jones asked himself incredulously.
…………………………………………………………………………………………..
Mr. Jones stayed in his office for the rest of the day, occupied by the tasks required by his job. This product launch of the new engine protoype for the Dodge brand could change fortunes forever, and the pressure from this singular pursuit was just the distraction that Mr. Jones needed to keep him from straying to the events of earlier that day. Ms. Anderson did her job as usual without even a hint of teasing, or malice. While earlier in the day had been a little more awkward on Mr. Jones’s part, the pace of the day quickly evaporated any kind of nervous energy between them. In truth, their relationship was never boss-subordinate. They worked together as partners, because early on, Mr. Jones had noticed Ms. Anderson’s affinity for anything mechanical, so to call her merely a secretary completely overlooked her skill and precision from an engineering perspective. While he hated to say it, Ms. Anderson had played just as much of an integral role in the development of his idea into a final product than anything else.
As the workday came to a close, Mr. Jones say at his desk, enjoying one final cup of coffee. He knew that his day was far from over, but as he allowed himself to relax for just a few minutes, he pondered his actions from earlier. Always being one for introspection, he rationalized that some kind of leftover feelings for Yasmin had pushed him into the situation from earlier, but the concern returned when everytime he dared think about Yasmin, Ms. Anderson in her short skirt, with that bite mark on her thigh, would reappear, thus leaving him disoriented. It was true that he didn’t care for her as a person. He thought very little of her, but for the first time in their working relationship, he allowed himself to begin to ask why.
“Was it lust?”
Mr. Jones leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up onto his windowsill. He watched the sun begin setting just over the horizon, noting the deep hues of orange and purple that peeked through the clouds. There was something so peaceful about the sky right now, but there was also an underlying force that was as magnetic to him as the pace of his work. Force. Ms. Anderson. With a wry grin, he admitted to himself that her demure appearance belied something deeper in her. The way that she looked at him, it was almost as if she were piercing the veil of his person and seeing what he kept hidden from everybody else. Except Yasmin. She had known all of his secrets, but she had not run away because of them. She stayed because of them. In the end, work won out, but she had kept his secrets, and never spoken of them to anyone. But now, Ms. Anderson knew. He couldn’t figure out how, but that inner voice that counseled him over and over again confirmed his thoughts. She knew.
Coupled with what she had seen of him this morning, Mr. Jones found himself in a very precarious situation. With work so busy, they could easily find ways around any of this. There was no need to discuss, but that nagging counsel in his head also told him that the best way around this was actually through it. He had to confront it, and see just what Ms. Anderson actually knew, and also to see how he could bribe her to keep her mouth sealed about who he was, and what he was about.
Setting his coffee down on the desk, he stood up, fighting that nerves running rampant in his stomach. Against every impulse in his body, he pressed the call button on his phone,
“Ms. Anderson, I need to see you.”
There. He had done it. The conversation would be easy. The hardest part was pressing the button. Only when Ms. Anderson stepped into his office, and immediately closed the door, an inaudible scream ran unabated throughout Mr. Jones’s body. His eyes noticed her heels, leopard print with a red bottom on them. Though he tried, he couldn’t remember the name of them. From there, he saw her quaint, but strong ankles, flaring into full, toned legs, which again grew into thighs barely hidden by a skirt that seemed to only be a thin sliver of fabric. He did not have to look had to see more bite marks on the inside of her thighs, and a cruel shiver ran the length of his spine, culminating in a moan that should have been quiet, yet it’s echoes filled the empty space.
And Ms. Anderson stared into his eyes. Saying nothing, but saying plenty, she stepped toward him. There was that smell again, Mr. Jones realized too late. Confidence.
Three more steps. His heartbeat sped up immensely, and he noticed that his palms had gotten sweaty.
Now standing only 2 steps away from him, Ms. Anderson stopped. Mr. Jones’s eyes were widened into a frantic glare. His breathing was sporadic. Trapped within his mind, he knew that his body had waved the white flag. She had won whatever cruel game had been played over the length of their partnership. He was able to see every unnoticed flirtation. Every smile, grin, and smirk. For the first time, he saw everything for what it was. A web.
And now he was hopelessly caught.
As quickly as those thoughts manifested, they tumbled away as her hand gently caressed his face, brushing innocently across his lips, and then trailed down to his neck. He knew that she could feel the blood pounding in his veins, and he became aware of increasing flares of heat throughout his body, centralizing in his crotch, which felt ablaze at that moment. He felt helpless, and as her hand tightened around his throat, and his breathing became more and more restricted, he whimpered, again against his will, but for the life of him, he had no other recourse.
Ms. Anderson’s hand around his throat was such an unfamiliar sensation, but not entirely unwelcome, and as she squeezed her little hands around his thick neck, she leaned in closely, to make sure that Mr. Jones could hear her delicate whisper.
“Who’s my bitch?”, she hissed.
By her inflection, at her presumed dominance, Mr. Jones’ cock found new life, extending far beyond what it ever had before. It pressed threateningly harder against the fabric of his slacks, close to tearing the zipper from its seams. Cautiously, Mr. Jones found some measure of himself and reached out to touch Ms. Anderson, but she flashed a menacingly fierce glance at him, and he dropped his hands. With her hand still around his throat, she pushed him back against his own wall. Her other hand free for the moment, she tugged at his zipper until it came loose, and then found his cock. Her grip was sure, but soft, yet there was no question as to what her intentions were. Her hand against his cock, skin stretched tight and burning, yearning for her. She reached deeply, finding tightened balls, which she caught in the palm of her hand, and rolled around. At this, Mr. Jones found himself helpless. In fact, she did know him, but not as well as he thought.
And it was in that singular notion that he found his strength. As she stroked his cock and fondled his balls, Mr. Jones allowed himself to be owned. He offered no fight as she stroked and coaxed hi to full girth, and simply closed his eyes, nodding as Ms. Anderson affirmed and reaffirmed her dominance over him.
“You haven’t been especially nice to me, Mr. Jones, or should I just call you bitch. We have worked together for this long, and you’ve not made a single move on me, nor have you respected me enough to truly let me be your partner. Now I’m tired of waiting. Here is my offer. You will be my cock. If you are a good cock, I will make sure that this launch makes us all lots of money. If you aren’t”, she said with a self-assured grin, “I will burn this whole thing to the fucking ground.”
With her hands now rapidly squeezing and rubbing the length of his cock, Mr. Jones moaned aloud, feeling the heat course through his body. He knew that he was cumming all over her hands and fist, but even he was surprised when she drew back calmly, and took her dripping, lifted her skirt, and wiped his semen against her bare pussy. He watched excitedly as she took great care to smear it not only across her labia, but also all over the inside of her thighs. Then, to his complete shock, she turned and walked away, but not before making sure that he saw her wipe the remaining drops on her lips as a sort of balm. He slumped against the wall, disbelief raging through his brain, which was so overheated that it threatened to completely shut down. This was not how he’d seen this happening. She could NOT be in control, but as he watched her walk confidently out of his office and slam HIS door, he could find no way around that simple fact. She owned him.
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The rest of the work day proceeded on autopilot. True to her word, Ms. Anderson was a whirling dervish of activity. She scheduled meetings, oversaw engineering specs, and generally was such a badass that Mr. Jones had nothing to do other than nod his head in agreement. She put out memos, took care of minor nuisances, and even brought lunch into Mr. Jones’ office from his favorite place. She placed it on his desk while he was on the phone with a major vendor, and on top of it was a note. Mr. Jones opened it after she left, and he looked on with embarrassment as his eyes read the slightly worded paper.
“Good cock”, was all it said.
Around 9p.m., Mr. Jones was again looking out of his window at life happening just beyond his reach. As he turned to gather his things to head home for the night, he heard a knock at the door, and then Ms. Anderson stepped into his office.
“Yeah, Ms. Anderson?”, he asked, “how may I help you?”
She stepped into his office, walked over to his couch, and sat down quietly. He watched her silently remove her skirt, fold it, and place it neatly on his coffee table. Then she sat back against the plush pillows, spread her thighs and placed a single finger against her clit. Mr. Jones became instantly aware of the air being sucked out of the room. He felt dizzy at this wanton, overt display of sexuality, but another part of him perked up, and he continued to look on, hiding his amusement.
Ms. Anderson did not look at him now. She only rubbed her clit with that single finger, undulating beneath the apparent pleasure coursing though her body in that moment. Her short, airy gasps came at random intervals, and her skin took on a deepening shade of red. Her spine lifted several times from the pillows, and as Mr. Jones watched her, he could see her labia glistening, which lead to him feeling an immediate urge to be there beside her, perhaps even replacing her finger with his own. His mind was awash in possibilities, catching him up into vivid fantasies, running in conjunction with the soundtrack of her sweet moans and gasps.
“Cock”, came that voice again, breaking through the fog in his mind.
Mr. Jones looked at her, and saw Ms. Anderson still sitting on his couch with two fingers plugged deeply inside of her. Her eyes were closed, but he had the distinct feeling that she knew she had gotten his attention.
“Come here, Cock.”, she said with a firmness that took Mr. Jones aback.
His body responded as if this were natural, and even as his mind fought, he found his feet moving slowly to where she was. She responded as if she just knew that his obedience would come easily, and she then said,
“Kneel Cock.”
Mr. Jones’ body again took over, and he knelt demurely. In his mind, a fierce argument was taking place. This was not who he was. Just who did this woman think that she was? Who did she think-
His thoughts ceased when she spoke again.
“Cock, you were so good today. I told you that when you were a good cock, things would run smoothly, did I not?” she purred.
“Yes, Ms. Anderson”, he said in a voice not his own.
“Call me ma’am when it’s just us, Cock.”, she snapped, before falling back into her moans of enjoyment.
Mr. Jones could hear the wetness of her pussy as her fingers slid deeply into her over and over again. The squishy sounds had him closer to orgasm than anything he had ever experienced before, yet for reasons he could not understand. Why was he giving in? He was making this too easy. He needed to fight, but as Ms. Anderson’s voice cut through his mind conversation again, he innately focused in on what she had to say.
“I’ve seen you staring at my thighs, Cock. You like the bruises on them? I bet you have even fantasized about what it would be like for you to taste my thighs, haven’t you, Cock? Would you like to be a good Cock and bite my thighs while I pleasure myself? Would that make you a happier Cock?, she teased.
A hunger unlike any he had ever felt set itself firmly at root within him, and he utterly despised both him for wanting it, and her for teasing him. She was willfully humiliating him, but she was also right. As he watched her thighs shivering, his mouth watered. He had to have that succulent flesh in his mouth. The more he stared, the hungrier he became, so much so that he felt that he would absolutely perish if he could not taste her thighs and leave his own marks there.
“Yes ma’am”, came his quiet, mousy voice, “Please let me taste your thighs. I need to taste them.”
“Come here, Cock. Mark me.”, she said in between moans that were coming more frequently.
She spread her thighs even more, and as he leaned in and opened his lips, he felt her hand on the back of his neck, pressing his mouth onto her thigh. Upon first taste, Mr. Jones lost all sense of himself. He nibbled and licked, kissed and bit her thighs with such enthusiasm that he wondered if he might hurt her. Several times he bit her hard, imagining how beautiful her thighs would look with his teeth imprinted on them. Even more times, a quaint lick brought an audible scream from her mouth. With her skin between his teeth, and his tongue running over it, he could taste his where she had smeared his semen against them as well, which made his cock throb so hard, he feared that he would cum without any physical touch at all.
Soon, he felt her body begin to stiffen, but he dared not stop. When she cried out from orgasming, he stayed faithful to his job, only slightly aware that his pants were not wet from his cock leaking massive amounts of precum against them. When she finally came down, she placed a hand on his neck, pulling him away, causing him to whimper like a sick puppy. He hated himself again for that response, but only then was he finally aware of how aroused he was. Ms. Anderson looked down at her thighs, both harsh shades of red, marked severely by Mr. Jones’ teeth. She ran her fingers against them, and closed her eyes while giving deep, contented sighs, shuddering as the aftershocks of her orgasm still ran through her system.
“You were quite a hungry Cock, weren’t you?”, she said as she rubbed his head, almost as if an owner would pet a dog.
Mr. Jones knew that he did not like that visual in his head, but in a way, he also did. His inner conflict took over. Images of pulling her by her hair, across his desk and taking what should have been rightfully his took over. He even growled a bit as he thought about repaying her smug comments today over and over again. As he looked up at her, he was startled to see her looking at him in that observant way that she had come to do lately. Her eyes shone with approval, and as her smell reached his nostrils again, he melted again into a ball of obedience, loyalty, and lust. All thoughts of domineering gone away.
He watched from his knees as she stood up and placed her skirt back on. Then as she walked toward the still open door, she departed with an enthused,
“Have a great evening, Mr. Jones! See you bright and early tomorrow morning!
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
Mr. Jones found himself in a furious state of arousal for the entire night. He couldn’t even close his eyes without reliving the events of the day, and as he relived them, he couldn’t help but feel her hand on his cock, around his throat. As he masturbated repeatedly that night, while tossing in his bed, be frequently found his hand traveling to his throat and applying pressure, which lead to him having the most violent orgasms that he could ever remember having. At around 3 the next morning, after having cum for the third time, he got up and changed the sheets on his bed. When finished, he sat heavily on the bed with his head massaging his temples.
“What is going on with me?”, Mr. Jones lamented. “This isn’t me. Why am I letting this woman control me? I have to regain control of this situation.”
To remedy his stress, Mr. Jones did what he normally did in these cases. He exercised. Pulling on his sweats and old college hoody, he put on his headphones and a headlight, and took off on a brisk run around his neighborhood. The air was cool and crisp, the wind felt good as it hit him across the face. It felt almost like a slap back to reality. Repeating his core mantras in his ears over the course of the 3 miles he ran, Mr. Jones began to feel that centered again. His thoughts finally turned from Ms. Anderson toward the mental list of everything that needed done on that day. Working through any potential problems, by the time he arrived back home, he felt self assured, and ready to be conquer the day with energy to spare. Nary a thought of Ms. Anderson returned as he showered and dressed quickly for work.
As he pulled into the office and walked through the doors, he could hear the guys in the machine shop hard at work. The clanging of hammers was music to his ears. He stopped in to see how they were, and before he knew it, he had on goggles and gear, and was working right beside them to try and correct a flaw in the build. As the final product emerged from the 3D printer, and they measured it against the raw build of earlier, the guys had a huge celebratory high-five moment, and Mr. Jones felt even more accomplished. The rush of success had him heady and on cloud nine. So much so, that he only paid Ms. Anderson a cursory amount of attention as he cruised past her and walked into his own office 3 hours later. Not even 5 minutes after he had settled in at his desk to review his emails, Ms. Anderson walked in with his schedule book to review the day’s meetings and priorities. She also brought his coffee in and set it down on his desk.
“Good morning, Ms. Anderson!”, Mr. Jones said cheerfully, still on a high from the machine shop experience.
Ms. Anderson nodded her head shyly, and read off all of the things on the docket for the day.
“......and somewhere at the end of the day we need to meet about the suppliers coming in tomorrow. I saw the builds that you all made this morning and they are brilliant, but we still have 5 more protoypes to build for their review. I made the sketches last night, to fix the problems that have kept haunting us with the X76J design, but I need your eyes to help me be sure that we are on the right path.”, she said, never looking up.
Mr. Jones looked at her as she spoke, but soon found his eyes roaming down toward her thighs. True to form, her skirt was not office appropriate, but as his eyes saw her thighs, the big red bruises stares back at him, taunting and beckoning him again. Noticing his gaze, Ms. Anderson walked toward his desk and set a tiny box down. As she turned to leave the office, she ran hand over her thigh and remarked over how cold it was. Mr. Jones watched her walk out of his office, her heels click-clacking on the hardwood of the floors. He took a deep breath, trying to stave off the images flashing before his eyes, but had no luck. He stood up and paced around his office, then finally closed his door and laid down on his couch, but that too was short lived, for as he smelled Ms. Anderson’s wetness from yesterday still in the fabric, he felt himself fall back down into the dark hole of the day before.
Looking up at the box on his desk, a sense of dread overcame him, but it was flanked oddly enough by excitement. Evidently it was something from her. For him. He walked over to his desk and picked the box up. When he flipped up the top, there he saw a light blue rubber bracelet, the kind that everyone tends to use for free advertisement.
“Weird”, he thought to himself.
But as he picked it up and inspected the writing on the bracelet, Mr. Jones was overcome with some kind of emotion that he had never felt, and thus could not properly identify. He was intensely aroused, yet fiercely confused as to why. The bracelet had two letters on it, but those two letters rocked Mr. Jones to his core.
“GC”, he muttered to himself while wiping sweat from his brow. Good Cock.
Beneath the bracelet he noticed a folded piece of paper. Picking it up and reading, Mr. Jones could not help but smile against his will, but he also instantly became aware of his pants feeling very tight and uncomfortable. He read the note once, but then felt the unmistakable urge to reread it aloud the second time.
“You were such a good cock yesterday. I’d like to thank you for my new thigh decorations. None of the others were even remotely as enthusiastic as you were. Keep being such a good cock, and you’ll keep being rewarded. Now put on your ‘collar’, and be proud that you’re my good cock.”
Mr. Jones’ smile vanished as he read the part about the others. Crushing the paper in his fist, he tossed it, the box, and the bracelet into his trash. A furious sense of jealousy filled his mind, which was accompanied by anger, first at even being viewed in submissive light, but also at being merely one of “others”. Who did she think she was?
It was at the moment when a plan came to mind. Ms. Anderson was going to have a very interesting day.
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Mr. Jones worked the rest of his day as usual, making sure that he was about the business of keeping things on track. After all, the meeting was tomorrow, and there was much to do. As he did all of this, he made sure to keep Ms. Anderson in front of him at all times. He made a great show of inviting her into his office, sitting beside her on the couch, calling her “Ma’am” in salacious whispers, and treating her well. He also made a great show of making any motion that would require him to show off his wrist, the same wrist that did not have the bracelet on it. He noticed every time he did it, that her eyes would glance up, expecting to see him branded by the “GC”, and every time he put his wrist down, he felt some measure of victory as his plan played out perfectly. He could look at her eyes and see how unsure she was. Her interactions with him were awkward, lacking the confidence that she had exuded previously.
The day came to a close, and at around 8 o’clock, Ms. Anderson paged in and asked him if he was ready for their consult over the design plans, to which Mr. Jones replied affirmatively. He smiled to himself, as excited to spring his trap.
Ms. Anderson walked in and closed the door behind her. Mr. Jones saw the confidence on her once again, but that was replaced by shock as she saw him naked, standing in the center of the room. He watched her eyes travel from his eyes, to his lips, down further until she centered in on his cock ,which was wearing a new decoration. Hanging from his mushroomed head was the blue bracelet with “GC” inscribed on it. Mr. Jones grinned as her saw a shiver travel through Ms. Anderson’s body, and her hand instinctively rub the red spots on her thighs where his teeth had been 24 hours earlier. He correctly judged her as she decided how to best proceed, so he pressed his advantage.
“Ma’am”, he said sincerely, “I thought that this might be a more apt placement for your gift. I hope that you approve.”
Ms. Anderson regarded him curiously, and walked forward to where he stood. Her hand found his cock and stroked it a bit, running the rubber softly up and down his shaft until he began to form small droplets of precum. She removed the bracelet and placed it on his wrist, and then walked over to the couch where she again removed her skirt and began folding it to put it away.
“Ma’am”, Mr. Jones began shyly, “I was hoping that you might use me at my desk this time?”
Ms. Anderson considered his request, and stood up. As she walked toward him, Mr. Jones could see his marks on her, and his want to do it again fought against his resolve to see his plan through to fruition. He noticed that he was shivering, and did his best to avert his eyes away from her thighs, but he found that staring at any other part of her inspired the same reaction, and so he closed his eyes completely to find his focus. He jumped when he felt her fingers tracing down his chest, first down, and then up to his neck. He moaned at the feel of her so close to him. He could smell her fragrant aroma. All of this combined with his raging lust made it hard for him to remain still. He could feel his cock jumping, and leaking onto the floors. Her touch burned him in the best ways. It was if her fire was liquid, and penetrated his pores, consuming him with pleasure. Her hand clasped his throat and squeezed, pushing him back against the edge of his desk.
“So”, she whispered, “My Cock deigns to make a request of me? I think he may have forgotten his place is between my legs, and not in my face.”
Her hand tightened again. Mr. Jones marveled that she held such strength in those tiny hands. His oxygen intake was slowly being compromised, but he played his role. It wasn’t that hard actually, because according to his body, he was really aroused right now. When he felt the edge of his desk, he knew that it was almost time. He was just unsure of what she would do next, and how it would turn it around into his favor. Once he was firmly against his desk, Mr. Jones felt Ms. Anderson remove her hand from his neck and place it around his cock, getting it coated in precum. She looked him in his eye and sucked one finger, closing her eyes as she savored the taste. This pleased Mr. Jones to no end, though he tried his best not to show his eagerness.
Pushing him onto his desk first, Ms. Anderson continued pushing until Mr. Jones was on his back on his desk. Then she climbed up herself and stood over him. In that moment, Mr. Jones was glad that his desk was quality, or else things might be very different. He tried hiding hide, but when he looked up, those confident eyes were looking at him in a very displeased manner. She wagged her index finger at him,
“Tsk, tsk, tsk….Good Cock is misbehaving. Let’s see how much he smiles now.”
As her voice trailed off, Mr. Jones looked up and realized that she was standing right over his head. He marveled at the beauty and strength of her legs, and how they flexed, but even more his eyes caught view of swollen labia, and he realized that maybe she was about to straddle his face. Horror struck him at that moment, because he knew that if she did, he would indeed be powerless, because having a wet pussy on his face was one of the things that always sent him over the edge. He had found with Yasmin that no physical touch was necessary for him to cum when he had the fortune of having his face smothered with a warm, wet vagina. He licked his lips in anticipation, but almost whimpered a bit when Ms. Anderson spoke again.
“Good Cocks get my reward. I can feel you staring. I think it’s kinda hot”, she teased, “but Bad Cocks only get taunted. Besides, you couldn’t handle what I have right here. But I’ll let you taste it. Just not the way you want to.”
He watched as she slid a finger between her thighs and slapped the folds of her labia. The sounds cascaded down into his ears and sounded like a symphony of pleasure. Her knees buckled just a tad, but she remained standing. As she continued slapping her pussy, Mr. Jones noticed his face being hit by random drops of wetness. Focusing in, he could see that she was just so wet, that every slap was causing more and more leakage to rain down on his face. Before long, he was wiggling beneath her, trying to manuever himself into optimal position to catch some drops in his mouth, yet whenever he did move, as if anticipating his excitement, Ms. Anderson would shift her weight, and cause it to miss his mouth entirely, hitting his eyelids instead, or raining down on top of his bad head. Soon enough, he resigned himself to staying perfectly still, and watching as she moved from slapping her labia to quickly sliding two fingers deeply and fucking herself at a quick pace. He heard her moans coming in dulcet tones, and the random droplets became more of a steady trickling from between his legs, onto his lips as almost a glaze. Mr. Jones moaned aloud and licked his lips, frantically tasting every drop that graced them.
As she got closer to cumming, her fingers were a blur. Mr. Jones was so caught in the bliss of tasting her pussy that he failed to notice her lowering herself onto his face, and let out a muffled yelp when he found his mouth completely covered by a very close-to-orgasming pussy. His tongue struck out of it’s own accord, licking and lapping with all of the strength that it could muster. She ground her pussy into his open mouth, forcing his lips apart farther and farther, just as his tongue forced her labia apart by the same token. She leaned forward and slapped his spasming cock, causing him to moan into her and cause her insides to rejoice from the vibrations. When she reached further still and squeezed his testicles, Mr. Jones cried out from the pain, but never ceased his actions. Very quickly thereafter he felt her body tighten. It wound so tightly that he feared that she would burst, but when she did flex again, his mouth was flooded by juices that ran so hard and fast that he could not contain it all. Oh the flavor. He was heady. The sensations of her cumming into his mouth, and his testicles being squeezed became too much for him. As if to add to his torture, Ms. Anderson proceeded to leave his mouth, and smear herself all over his face, leaving wet, sticky trails wherever she moved. Then she was still, breathing deeply. And that is when Mr. Jones took action.
Reaching up to grab her thighs, he caught her by surprise when he pulled her down. She went to scream in protest, but he placed his hand over her mouth and pulled her bare pussy back against his still squirming cock. She fought him, eyes wide, knowing what was coming, but Mr. Jones held her fast. Thrusting his cock fully inside of her, he held her back against him, and then hissed into her ears,
“Does this still count as Good Cock, Ma’am?”
He smiled gleefully as Ms. Anderson did everything that she could to get away from him. She scratched him, leaving bloody marks on his arms. She hit him with her fists, and tried stomping on his toes, but by the 3rd thrust of his cock those same hands that had scratched him before, we wrapped backwards around his neck, welcoming his lips on her neck and shoulders. Now free, his hands ripped the buttons of her blouse away, freeing breasts that were not large, but heavy and perky. He drove deep inside of her, while using his fingers to tease and pinch her nipples. Several times he slapped her breasts at the exact time that his cock touched the deepest parts of her.
“Hmmm, maybe I should come up with a name for you”, gasped Mr. Jones breathlessly as he fucked her the way he had fantasized, “though maybe you don’t deserve a name. I think we both see who has the power here. You’d do well to remember. I may love tasting your pussy, and I may also love tasting your thighs, but you’re my slut. For my use. Remember that.”
At that, Ms. Anderson cried out, slumping back against him. His battle won, Mr. Jones grunted, gritted his teeth and sunk his teeth again into her reddened back. He released all of his pent up desire inside of her. She screamed as she felt the sweet burn of him joining her already moist, creamy pussy. When Mr. Jones finally stopped bucking and grinding into her, Ms. Anderson tried walking away, but found her movement impeded. Mr. Jones leaned into her, placing a hand around her neck, and kissed her on the cheek.
When he finally released her, Mr. Jones wore a smug look on his face, to counter the confused one on hers. As he watched her stumble to grab her clothes and put them back on, Mr. Jones came up beside her, holding the bracelet.
“So, uhh….should I put this back on now?”, he smirked.
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Mr. Jones awakened the next morning after a dreamless sleep feeling as revitalized as he could remember feeling in a long time. Today was the day of the big meeting, and while he and Ms. Anderson had not worked on the designs last night after all, he felt like order had been restored to the world, and thus the day should go off without a hitch. He whistled while he showered, pausing to take time and relive the events of the previous evening. Leaning back against the shower tile, he used his soap to recreate the feel of Ms. Anderson’s pussy. He groaned as he recalled how tight and welcoming it was, but also the intense heat that it emitted. He was so lost in the memories that he achieved orgasm much quicker than he had intended to, but as he slumped to the floor of the shower while warm water ran down every part of him, he found himself looking forward to the next time that he could claim her. Truth be told, he actually liked Ms. Anderson, but she just needed to be shown her place. Things might actually work out to where he doesn’t have to fire her after all.
That thought actually made him smile.
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At work, things were going according to plan. Ms. Anderson had called an emergency meeting before Mr. Jones got in, so that when he got to the office all of the designs had been printed off and were placed in the conference room. All copies had been made, and were neatly placed into fancy folders with each participant’s name on the cover. As Mr. Jones inspected everything, he found himself very pleased. Everything was in its place. Even the shop had been shined. The workers walked around looking nice and clean. He felt his heart swell with pride, because today was the day that all of their dreams would come true.
As he walked through the office, he remembered the early days. He had been a college drop-out, because he was more interested in girls than getting an education. Additionally, he felt like the professors were only interested in making a paycheck, not his betterment. His parents had been so angry with him, yet even in those days, he’d had a dream of starting his own machining shop. He had always enjoyed working with his hands, and some of his fondest memories had been getting greasy with his father at his repair shop. So, when he dropped out of school, he worked at several shops in town, learning all that he could about engine repair and improvement. When he came up with his first enhancement for the fuel injector, he knew that he was on his way. And when his first auto supplier gave him a contract, the ball had quickly gotten rolling. He had failed, but never quit.
“Those hard early days paved the way for today!”, he whispered to himself excitedly.
As he walked the halls, thanking everyone for their role in getting things ready, he came upon MS. Anderson fixing his morning coffee. Entering the lounge, he walked in slowly behind her and leaned into her ears, whsipering,
“Good morning!”
She jumped, wasting coffee on the floor, but otherwise appeared unrattled when she turned around and flashed her same demure smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Jones”, she said detachedly.
“I wanted to thank you”, he said, “for all of your work to help make this possible. I decided that no matter how this goes, you still deserve your bonus. Nobody has worked more hours around here than you. I appreciate you. I know I haven’t said it, but I do. Oh, and thank you for a longer skirt today.”
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. Passing it to her, he waited while she opened it, looking on satisfactorily as her eyes got wide, and she smile a beautiful one. He didn’t wait for her to thank him, but rather went back to his office to prepare his notes for the meeting. Shuffling through his note cards, he paced back and forth across the room, adding inflections where necessary. He was determined. They had worked too hard for this to fall through, and he resolved on his watch, that would not be the case.
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The first indication that something was off came at 9:15a.m. Mr. Jones sat in his office still reading through his notes when he looked at his watch. The meeting was supposed to start at 8:45, but no one had come to get him. He paged Ms. Anderson and got no answer, so he decided to walk to the conference room. The hallways were strangely silent as he casually strolled through them. A sense of dread pulled in his stomach, but he ignored it and continued searching. Reaching the conference room, he saw no one there. The folders were still tucked neatly at their spots on the tables. Mr. Jones picked up his cell phone to see if he’d had any missed calls. There were none, but just as he went to try calling Ms. Anderson again, a text from her came through.
Pulling up iMessage, his blood ran cold as he read the message from Ms. Anderson.
“I told you that Good Cock would be well rewarded, but since you insisted on being Bad Cock, now you get to reap the consequences. Put the damn bracelet on and send me a picture. Maybe then I’ll tell you where we are meeting.”
Shock set in as he read, then reread, the message. His mind swirled with the possibilities. She was holding his company hostage! Anger quickly turned into white, hot rage as he thought about the gall of Ms. Anderson to take their game to this level. Mindlessly furious, he punched the wall, then immediately regretted it as his fist swelled. Running to the lounge, he wrapped his hand in ice, and took a seat to think for a moment. Running through all of the possible scenarios, the only conclusion he could arrive at was that she was serious. He walked to his office and grabbed the bracelet. As he looked at it, running his fingers over the “GC”, his mind went back to a couple of days ago when all of this had even started. The images pained him, as he thought that they were turning a corner, then anger returned and he slid the bracelet on and snapped the picture with his phone. Disgusted with himself for letting things go as far as they had, he rubbed his temples at his desk while waiting for her to text him back. His phone notified him that a new message had come in. Standing up, ready to go, he opened the message, but instead of words, there was only a picture of her thighs, marked still by his teeth. Then another message came through. It was a picture of the supplier reps standing around in a circle. She wasn’t playing.
“Ding.” Another message.
“Are you ready to be Good Cock again?”
She was baiting him. Mr. Jones sat there with an incredulous look on his face. He was still having trouble believing that on the greatest day of his company, this could be happening. Still, he decided to play along until he could retake the reins.
“Yes, Ma’am. I’m your Good Cock.”
“Ding.” Another message.
An address. 3159 Mardello.
“IF you want your business back, get here quickly, Good Cock.”
Mr. Jones ran down the hallway as quickly as his legs would carry him, and was in his car, peeling out of the parking garage in a flash. Queuing up his GPS, he sped down the streets, not even caring about the presence of several police officers he passed as he did his best to find the address that Ms. Anderson had sent him. After about 20 minutes, he found himself in a residential area, with cookie-cutter houses, behind tall gates. His GPS alerted him that he had arrived, and when he looked up, he saw a house that he could only hope in his wildest dreams to ever even visit. Marble columns on the outside, a porch with ornate decorations. Shaking himself, Mr. Jones focused again, finding the doorbell, but just as he went to ring it, he saw something in the corner of his eye that gave him pause. Hanging from the doorknob was a small powder blue bracelet, not unlike the one that he wore around his wrist right now. Upon closer inspection, he saw the initials “GC” on it.
Taking a chance, he turned the doorknob and found it open. At first he rushed in, but then thought the better of it, opening the door slowly and stepping inside with his eyes shooting from side to side to survey his new surroundings. From the corner of the room he thought he heard sound, which lead to him walking cautiously toward what he thought were sighs. Peeking his head around the column flanking that corner of the room, he saw her. Ms. Anderson. Thighs spread. Breasts bared. Her head was upright, but her eyes were glassy. Somehow he knew that she still saw him. Her eyes were locked on him, even as she moaned from her fingers rubbing her clit. He looked at the blur of activity, and his anger melted. Replaced instead by intense need, his feet moved him closer and closer, until he was close enough for her to reach out and touch.
“So this is your trap for me?”, he managed to say through a suddenly dry throat.
She didn’t answer him immediately. Instead she slid her finger inside of her pussy and wiggled it around. Pulling it out, she took an obscene lick and then held it out to him.
“Taste.”
Mr. Jones forced himself to stand perfectly still, even though everything in him wanted to obey her. His mouth watered. His senses could pick up her scent. It was the same scent that he had taste the day prior. The same scent that he had allowed to linger on his cock while he masturbated before sleep that night. It was that scent that made him forget all of his anger. That scent. That woman, who had driven him to madness with her stunt a couple of days ago. The woman who had so incensed him now, that against his better judgement, with the fate of his business hanging in the balance, the only thing he could think of was pleasuring her completely. As his defenses and walls were completely battered by this assault from Ms. Anderson, he found hmself kneeling, his mouth open, and his tastebuds embracing her finger with her scent, and her smell. That heady feeling overtook him again.
He was helpless.
“Yes, Ma’am!”, he moaned while licking and sucking on her delicious finger, “Your Good Cock needs you.”
She moaned deeply, shoving fingers from her other hand inside of her, apparently finding new levels of pleasure in his declaration. Her head leaned back, and she pulled her finger from his mouth, beckoning him between her legs. He moved quickly, groaning as she offered her thigh to his lips. He opened his lips and sunk his teeth again into her delectable flesh. His cock throbbed all over again, as he thought about marking her. He could feel her fingers plunging in and out of her pussy, making suction sounds indicating how aroused she was. He could smell the intensity of it all, which drove him to new heights of need. As she moaned, he found himself moaning, and his breathing in time with her own. His mind screamed with the desire to do a good job for her. Her other hand pulled him by his ears, and reset him right at her pussy, even as her fingers were still occupied.
His tongue tasted her again, then he flicked her clit. Ms. Anderson shrieked, and her body went rigid. Her thighs closed down around his head, squeezing tightly. She all but stopped breathing for almost a minute, but Mr. Jones never stopped his licking and tasting. He was on autopilot. Mindless. He no longer tried to fight it. She had him. He was hers.
Then as if reading his mind, she purred contentedly, and then pulled him to his feet. She kissed him, licking his lips and feeling her juices running down his chin. She licked those up as well, before unzipping his pants and pulling out his wet cock, which had been leaking since her first saw her in the house. She stroked it easily, coaxing more and more precum from him, and delighting in his moans.
“Please, Ma’am”, he begged, “use your Good Cock…”
Ms. Anderson smiled. Then she dipped down onto her knees and stared up at him with anxious eyes. Confused, Mr. Jones looked down at her for answers.
She looked innocently up at him once again, gave his cock a prolonged lick, and then said,
“Now it’s your turn, Sir. Use me until you’re done. Your pleasure is my own.”
Mr. Jones’ mind swam with possibilities. There was so much that he wanted to say in that moment, answers that he needed, things about the business, but the only words that made sense were,
“I love you.”
Then he took her by the hair and slid his cock down her throat, allowing her to say it back to him repeatedly.
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Hours passed. In the end, they lay in a tangled mess of sex. When Ms. Anderson had urged Mr. Jones to use her, he had done just that. Every hole, every position they could think of, and now they both were spent in every way. Breathing deeply, Mr. Jones kissed her forehead and asked the question he had been intending to ask when he first got there,
“So, my business is safe?”
She looked up at him with a sneaky grin, though he mentally remarked on how beautiful it was, as if it were his first time truly seeing her. Then she said,
“I may have….kind of….rescheduled everything with the suppliers last night after you left the office. So, Monday...yeah.”
He laughed out loud, so much so that she soon found herself joining him, at least until he grabbed her by her throat and kissed her deeply.
And then they used each other again.
And again.
