Bring Your Daughter To Work ((LitShark & SannaBlonde82))

Evan Turner parked his Koenigsegg One in the parking space labeled with his name and title, the powerful engine of his imported sports car groaning like a wounded jungle cat as he parked and cut off the engine. He confidently climbed out of the driver’s seat and used a small remote to lock and set the alarm with two high beeps in sequence. He whistled merrily as he made his way to the executive elevator where he could easily bypass the first fifty floors of the Walker & Turner Consultation Firm’s eighty floor high-rise.

It seemed almost impossible—garish even, that one company should occupy thirty whole floors of a skyscraper and rent the other floors for a profit, but such was the advantage of old money in pre-slavery capitalist society. Evan wasn’t sorry. It never even occurred to him that he owed his success to anything other than hard work and rarified breeding.

Ever since he was old enough to smile, Evan had been classified as a heart-breaker and he’d thought of it as a personal challenge. To entice girls and women to commit their hearts to him, while he viewed them all as just another conquest. His combination of looks and money made it easy to lay them all down before him, like rails in the path of a train.

Evan’s whole life had been like that.

Things that were supposed to be difficult for everyone else were just easy for him. Some people were scared of police—police were scared of Evan and his last name. Some had trouble getting into college—Ivy league schools competed for Evan’s intent to register. Some poor fools had trouble finding love—Evan fucked a new girl every night. It was like the whole world was tilted in his favor. And Evan still wasn’t sorry.

As the elevator reached the 79th floor, he adjusted his tie and strode confidently toward his office, one of only four on this floor. Only his father and Oscar Walker’s father occupied the floor above them, their offices like palaces that sprawled onto the lavish rooftop that boasted a hot tub, sauna and greenhouse.

“Yo, Ozzy! How you feeling, you sick son-of-a-bitch?” Evan taunted, leaning into Oscar’s black marble, lined office, paying no attention to his secretary Tina, in spite of her objections, “Ready to turn and burn, or what?”

Oscar had been out drinking hard since about two hours ago and had been sleeping behind his Gucci sunglasses until Evan startled him awake behind his $35k rosewood desk.

“Aw, you fucking dick!” Ozzy shouted as his headache was reawakened with a vengeance, “I’ll get you back for that.”

“Watch it, otherwise I’ll finally take your mom up on her offer to fuck her in the ass,” Evan bantered back.

“At least I don’t take it in the ass like your dad does.”

“You’ve got it backwards, my dad is the pitcher, your dad is the catcher.”

“Just get out of here, you shitbird!”

“Don’t you want to check in with Middle-Management-Bobby?”

“It’s too early, check in with me at lunch.”

“Your loss, I’m going to double down on Bob-bashing today,” Evan smirked, it was a kind of sport between the upper-management elites, to single out struggling salarymen and see who could be most imaginative in making them suffer, “maybe I’ll make him loan me five-hundred bucks again…”

“Who cares? Get OUT!” Ozzy countered, throwing a stapler at the door but only making it halfway, he’d consumed a full bottle of Scotch the night before.

Evan was still chuckling as he crossed the elaborate lobby that separated the 4 offices of the 79th floor. He greeted his secretary, taking his stack of mail and depositing the papers on his lighted, glass desk. He thought, briefly, about doing real work before moving to the general staff’s elevator. He told his secretary, Olga, to take any messages that came for him as he rode the elevator down to the fifty-sixth floor, where Bob Cross worked.

When he arrived at Bob’s desk, at 9:05 AM, the ill-fated salaryman was not there. Evan feigned incredulity as he interrogated Bob’s neighbors.

“Where the fuck is Bob Cross this morning?!?”


Bob Cross was incredibly nervous as he waited for the elevator in the immense lobby of Walker & Turner Plaza. His palm was sweating against his daughter’s, he’d had to sign them both in with security. His beautiful and intelligent Sanna was his whole world, while his job at W&T was just a means to an end—even though it had been six years without a raise or a promotion.

“Are you excited to see where I work?” Bob asked his lovely daughter as the elevator arrived, “my bosses don’t like me much, so I need you to be on your best behavior, okay Pumpkin?”

Bob continued to hold her hand as he led her onto the elevator and keyed in his floor. He ought to have pressed the “Door Close” button, but that seemed rude to him, and before long, several dozen other working men crowded into the elevator and he was separated from his daughter. He couldn’t tell what was happening in the press, but several of the men had smirked at him as they exited on their floors.

When he arrived on his own floor, he felt out his daughter’s hand, pulling her through the crowd into the maze of cubicles that comprised his work life.

“Bob! Where the fuck have you been?” His boss, Mr. Turner shouted at him, looking sarcastically at his platinum Rolex, “you’re fifteen minutes late!”

“I—I just—” Bob stammered, his palm sweating heavier against his beloved daughter’s hand, “it—it’s bring your daughter to work day. I brought my daughter, Sanna.”

“Is that right?” Evan balked, spotting the nubile beauty at Bob’s side, “maybe I’ll let you off the hook, this time, Bob. Bring her over here, let me get a look at her.”

Sanna pulled her hand from her dads as they walked towards the handsome, grinning man standing welcoming them. Dad had told her about Evan, or Mr.Turner, as he was referred to by her father. Like he was his teacher or something. Silly. And what he had told her, had made her mad at this Evan person even before meeting him. She noticed how stressed out father so often was at home because of work, and even though he didn't tell her details, she just knew that Evan was an asshole. Her impression of him, from what she'd been told, was of a bully - just like the ones at school. And all that wealth - she found it almost perverse. She had no respect and no interest at all for Evan Turners money or this workplace. But she loved her father, and she was loyal, so when he asked her to come along for this idiotic "bring your daughter to work" thing, she complied.

No, Sanna wasn't interested at all. She was intelligent, a first class grade A student, and she was not going to spend her life in the service of people like Evan Turner. No, she had other plans. She was 18, and she wanted to go to university, hopefully in Europe, and study political science with an aim at a position wihin the U.N or something. Working for womens rights in the third world. Her boyfriend Peter had the same plan. She thought about Peter as she closed in on Evan and they shook hands and their eyes met, close up. She smiled to herself, a smile that she thought went unnoticed. A smile that was saying 'yes, Evan, you are extremely attractive, I'll give you that. And yes, Evan, I can see you checking me out. But no, Evan. I am not your kind of girl. So fuck off'.

She was glad she had Peter. They had been together for 3,5 years now. She loved him and god did he love her.. She knew he wasn't completely happy with the "promise ring" she wanted them to have - but Sanna wanted to wait with sex until they were married, which they were planning to do in Europe next summer. He had respected her decision, and even though he sometimes was a bit frustrated, for the most part he was happy enough with the oral sex now and then. He adored her, he worshipped her. Just like her dad did. And Sanna enjoyed that. She was in control - of her boyfriend, her father, her plans for the future.

Looking at Evan now, and hearing him speak, his confident, no - arrogant -demeanor controlling and overpowering everyone and everything around him.. as she felt how much she hated him she couldn't help being transfixed by him either. And it irritated the hell out of her. She glanced at her dad, who was hanging on Evans every word. How sickening...

The words caught in Evan’s throat as he readied himself to unleash a tirade of legendary proportions on Bob Cross, the office goat—a whipping boy for upper management—when he was struck dumb by the sudden appearance of a tropical bird in his barren corporate desert. A brilliant colored foreign entity suddenly appeared within his office and Evan was uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

She wisely shed her hindrance when she pulled away from his frail, sweaty grasp of her apparent father—though it seemed inconceivable that Bob’s pathetic gene pool could spawn such a goddess. Her body was like something carved by an artist—a once in a generation artist might carve from pure marble or bonze. She was wearing a bright, floral pattern dress that barely covered her to mid-thigh.

For the first time in what seemed like months, Evan wanted something that he wasn’t sure he could have—which only made him want her more. As he gently took her hand in his own, Evan whistled casually in sincere appreciation of Sanna’s body, lifting her hand above his head to spin her around for his personal appraisal.

Damn, what an ass!

“Um, Mr. Turner…?” Bob hesitantly interjected.

“Shut your mouth, Cross!” Evan barked back, finishing the brief pirouette with Sanna gently wrapped in his right arm, her back against his chest and his erection gently caressing her hip, “your daughter’s fine ass doesn’t excuse you being late. Cancel your lunch plans, you and your daughter need to meet us on the seventy-ninth floor and explain yourself.”

Evan rocked Sanna’s body slowly to the side, moving her by her hand until his hard cock nestled between her rotund ass cheeks. For his part, Evan was wearing a five-thousand-dollar Italian suit and even through her floral printed dress, she could feel that his slacks were made from expensive and meticulously crafted material.

“Is it your fault, little girl,” Evan asked quietly, his lips gently grazing Sanna’s neck, “did you make your daddy late to work? You bad girl.”

Sanna loosened herself from Evans grip and tried desperately to put back together the pieces of her world that he had smashed in the space of 10 seconds. What the fuck just happened?? Did he just make her turn and swirl for him? How the hell did that.. no! Did she just feel something huge and hard against her ass? Oh come on. What was this?? She looked at her dad who Evan had just openly insulted. She guessed she was looking for some kind of support from him, some kind of reassurance that this was going to be Ok. But he wasn't offering any. He just looked.. sad. Broken. Jesus christ..

And now she also found herself answering Evan's question.

- Yeah.. It was my fault. Sorry. You know, girls' stuff..

"Girls' stuff, huh?" Evan smirked, slightly disappointed that Sanna pulled away from him, but also excited by the prospect of a chase, something that he hadn't experienced in some time, "I'm afraid your Daddy is still going to have to answer for it, sweetheart. Lunch, Bob. Seventy-nine. Got it?"

"Y-yes, Mr. Turner," Bob stammered, already regretting his decision to bring in his daughter to the office, "I'm terribly sorry, Sir."

"You get back to work, Bob. In the meantime, why don't I give your daughter the deluxe tour? You can meet back up with us at lunch," Evan suggested, his eyes still moving hungrily over Sanna's feminine curves as he offered her his hand, "shall we?"

"M-muh-Mr. Turner, I'm not sure-"

"Well get sure. Sanna, would you like to come see the rest of the building?" Evan grinned, offering his arm to the much younger girl, "we'll let your Daddy get some work done and have some fun of our own."

"Well... Ok.. but..."

Sannas hesitance at this point was no match for Evan. They were already moving towards the elevators, and she had taken his arm. Why she couldn't understand. She had her phone in her other hand, looking at the message from Peter. "How's dad's work? Still on for student board thing this afternoon?"

Well that was the plan - to get out of this monument of capitalist craziness as soon as was polite to do so, but her reading of the situation at hand was that things might take longer than she anticipated. Sanna knew enough about her father and his situation at work to know she had to behave, and what she had witnessed during this short time since they met Evan just underlined that fact. She knew that there might even be a promotion for dad in the balance. So she quickly texted back:

"Not sure. Things are weird here. Might take longer. Let u know, xx"

She put the phone back in her little purse and glanced up at Evan. She suddenly felt a bit more capable and in control, and even felt comfortable enough to be ironic:

"Ok, so show me your massive capitalist empire, Mr.Turner! I'm sure it will be very intruiging.."

Sanna thought she understood something about the world and how it worked and that she was going to the U.N to make that world a better place. But she was only 18.

She knew nothing. Nothing at all.

“I’ll see you at lunch, Sweetheart,” Bob called after them, gathering up all his nerve to promise that he wouldn’t let Evan vanish with his daughter forever—yet it somehow felt like he was, like his darling baby girl was disappearing from his sight, never to be seen or heard from. Evan just exuded that kind of magnetic radiance, generations old power—the kind that transcended absolutely everything, “please be nice to her, Mr. Turner!”

But by then, the sleek steel doors of the executive elevator slid closed and his last plea went unheard by Evan, though some scattered chuckles rang out from behind the high cubicle walls. Some were aware of the sport their boss made of the office stooge, though no one was quite sure how it began. There were middling salarymen older than Bob, there were others who were more nervous, others still who seemed far more likely to be teased—but somehow, Bob was the winner.

It somehow felt better that it was Bob, for his being so completely mundane. If the executives had tormented the kid with autism who worked in the mailroom, it would have been unconscionably cruel—nobody would have thought that it was funny. But Bob just kind of had one of those faces—or maybe it was his personality… whatever Job did wrong to piss God off, by being too devout, that was the same way Bob deserved it and why everyone except for him got a good laugh about it.

Office politics in a nutshell.

The executive elevator was much nicer than the bank of clones that serviced the lower and middle floors, walled in smoked mirrors cracked with veins of gold flake and burgundy silk padding around the bottom half while the floor was dark, stained hardwood. It even had a Tiffany chandelier dangling from the domed ceiling.

Evan didn’t even remark on the conveyance, he simply inserted his ID badge and pressed 79.

“You say ‘Capitalist Empire’ like it’s a bad thing. Empires are massive things, they take generations of hard work and a dedication to excellence. Just because there are losers in the world doesn’t mean that nobody should win. If you spread things out too thin, you impede progress—you slow evolution. If there weren’t families like mine and Ozzy’s nobody would ever achieve anything amazing,” the whole elevator ride, Evan had seemed suddenly more conversational, extoling the virtues of ‘Old Money Capitalism’ when the doors slit open again to reveal the magnificent 79th floor.

It was after ten, now so the morning sun was shining in from the east, splitting its yellow radiance into a million panes of green. The whole floor was made of glass except for eight pillars that broke the floor into four massive, corner offices.

“I’m in the Northwest office, follow me,” Evan grinned, offering his arm again, she’d seemed to respond to that before, “Ozzy gets the good morning light, but you’ve got to see the sunset from my office, “hold my calls please, Olga.”

Closing the door behind Sanna, Evan turned the dead bolt with a satisfying click, the same motion instantly frosting the exterior, smart-glass windows completely opaque. Even the windows on the exterior of the building darkened, but only now looked tinted from the inside. More intimate and undeniably flattering lighting.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Evan smiled, leaving Sanna’s side just long enough to open a smoked glass globe, revealing a well-stocked bar inside, “I never like to start work without a little bit of giggle juice. Makes the day go faster.”

Carrying an intricate silver tray with various accoutrements over to the lavish sitting area of his office, Evan started lining up sugar cubes on bonze spoons, cut with lavish and detailed patterns.

“Ever had Absinth? I get the good stuff imported from Holland. Our little secret, okay Sanna?”

An instant later, the two sugar cubes were ablaze, the flames reflecting in Evan’s eyes as he invited the young blonde to join him on the suede sofa.

Sanna sat down where she was invited to, putting her purse on the table in front of her and lifting out her phone and placing it on the glass surface. She looked around. It was impossible not to be impressed, and impossible not show it. It was like something out of a movie set, she tried to think of which movie.. Probably something with Michael Douglas. Or Mad Men. Wall Street or Madison Avenue?

But her thoughts were broken off by the glass that was now offered to her. Absinth? She hardly knew what it was. She did know one thing and that was that she never drank in the daytime - but the sheer impact of the environment, the fantasy-like decadence of the whole situation.. yes well. She took the drink.

Sanna wasn't completely turned off by pretending to be that girl. She decided she Elisabeth Moss' Peggy Olson, and she smiled to herself. If her girlfriends could see her now! Haha! She would have one hell of a story to tell them at the book circle tomorrow evening. How she visited that other, sick and twisted world for a couple of hours and how she left laughing.

Except she wouldn't be leaving in a couple of hours. And not laughing either.

She sipped the absinth (she was prepared for the worst- it wasn't that bad..) and looked at her host. Ok so yeah. He was also like something from a movie. But she couldn't place him really. He was extremely good-looking, the classic look - but he had something else she couldn't put her finger on. An edge. A twist. I mean, yes, arrogance, most definitely. But simple arrogance - Sanna had encountered that before. This was... different. It made her nervous, the whole thing made her nervous. Sanna took another sip and straightened out her dress, looking for control and composure.

Evan was quite pleased with how transparent the awe was on Sanna’s face, she hadn’t quite learned the intrinsic value of deception yet, but he knew it well enough for the both of them. Her wits left her tongue and fled into her expressive blue eyes which spoke of her awe loud and clear. She didn’t even hesitate at the offered drink and he could see that she was impressed by that too. Her body language, too continued the conversation that her pink lips had lost, adjusting her flirty little floral dress, pleading with him to comment on how good she looked again, now that they were alone…

But he wouldn’t.

“Cat got your tongue?” Evan asked through a toothy smile, reaching across the table to freshen her drink from the bottle, not bothering with the mixing ritual, making her light green drink bloom into a darker, almost forest green, “I’m glad you like the booze, but tell me about yourself. If you had one sentence to summarize yourself to someone who hadn’t met you, what would you tell them? No, forget that—what is it that you want more than anything, Sanna? What do you really want?”

Evan lifted his glass to his lips with his left hand as he slid closer on the couch and gently laid his hand on Sanna’s bare knee. His touch wasn’t exactly inappropriate but it was deliberately close, enticing, gently begging permission to do more, to move higher, but not presuming either.

Maintaining eye contact over the edge of his exquisite glass, Evan took another long sip. He was waiting for her to speak next, he freshened up his own glass the same way he had for her a moment ago, without thinking much about it they had made a decent dent in the expensive, imported bottle.

“What would really make you happy? If you could have anything you wanted.”

Evan's hand on her knee had sent an electric current from the point of touch, right up her spine - passing through her abdomen and making her ass clutch involuntarily. It must be this absinth. Sanna knew that wasn't the whole explanation. Because here's the thing; He was giving her a kind of attention she wasn't used to, yet like any 18-year old girl becoming a woman - so dearly yearned for. What was that? Sanna had plenty of experience from getting attention when it came to her intelligence, her brain. She had plenty of experience from boys giving her attention because of her pretty looks and her amazing figure. She knew all this. She had it down. But what was this? When Evan asked her these questions. When he treated her this way. When he attended to her brain, her body - and her soul - what was that? It was something totally different.

So the truthful answer to his question was - this. I want this, Evan. I would like another human being to see me, my body, my brain, my soul. And when they see, they know what to do. Do you know what to do, Evan? Pretentious, yeah. She knew that.

This green stuff was getting to her, but it was a weirdly nice feeling. And perhaps that was ok right here now - being as she was in a totally different universe than the one she lived her life in. Like a dream. Like those fantasy novels she read as a younger teenager. An escape.

"Oh.. that's... I don't know.. that's a deep question.." Sanna giggled, smiled and blushed. The heat on her cheeks irritated her. She didn't want to be the silly teenager. She decided to be an adult, to show her intelligence, her own depth, and actually answer the question.

"Ok then.. I tell you what. I am always in control. I would like to lose it sometimes. That someone else had the answers. You know what I mean? I've always.. since.. my parents divorce.. been in control.. And I'm good at that. But.. it's hard work..

Sanna suddenly felt a little melancholy. Slightly weakened. Soft. It was unlike her. She took another sip.

Evan just smiled wider and set his glass down on the table before shifting his weight on the couch, facing her fully now, his hand already on its way up her smooth, pale, slender thigh—just like he knew it would be. His other hand came up from setting the glass down and caressed the side of her face gently, his thumb smelled like toasted sugar and pine needles. His thumb settled on the corner of her mouth and he leaned forward, halting just a breath away from her lips.

“You ought to have asked for a car, I was going to take control anyway,” he smiled before closing the distance between their mouths, he kissed her slowly but aggressively, his hand reaching the hem of her skirt and moving past it without hesitation.

Evan’s wide, smooth palm gripped her firm, athletic thigh greedily before moving higher still, almost a question in body language terms, dragging his pinky finger along her panty line. Taking control didn’t necessarily mean helping himself—he knew enough to know what he was doing. He wasn’t a monster, he was a player.

“From now on, why don’t you try something for me, let me do the talking for you, and all you need to think about saying are two words—‘yes, sir,’ that’s your answer to every question and until you’re spoken to you say nothing. Become like that phone, buzzing on my twenty-five-thousand-dollar glass table. Be an accessory. A thing that adds to my splendor.”

Having not been stopped or slapped yet, Evan’s hand got busier under her dress, gently tracing the outline of her slit with his smallest finger, which still seemed like too large a tool to do it justice. He kissed her again, his tongue writhing against hers before pulling back to gently drag across her bottom lip before his teeth followed suit—dragging…

“Do you want to take your panties off and let me rub your clit? Will you answer your phone while I play with your body and make you feel good with no penetration?”

It was time to see how obedient little Sanna could be, now that she admitted she wanted to be controlled, now that she was begging him to seize control of her completely.

“You know what to say, you can even speak normally on the phone, as long as you maintain your composure,” Evan let go of her face and retrieved the phone, answering it and raising it to her face at the same moment.

If Sanna had had the impossible benefit of hindsight in the moment, she would have said that if Evan hadn't given her the answered phone and thus making it very hard for her to fend him off (if that was what she wanted?), she could have. Fended him off that is. Maybe even gotten up and said ok, enough is enough. Take me back to daddy.

But she took the answered phone and said "hello?". She wasn't even listening. Her body was ablaze, with excitement and confusion. The kiss had been fabulous, and his hand on the inside of her thigh going up and touching her.. THERE... jesus christ. She would admit she didn't have much experience of men - but she.. she didn't think that.. oh god she lost her thought.

It was Peter. Fucking hell, it was Peter.
"Hey! You alright? Just thought I'd check in.. when you getting out of that place??"
His voice sounded childish now all of a sudden. A clueless boy that irritated her.
"Yeah I'm fine... wait..."
She looked at Evan who was mouthing silently a single word. "Panties..".

Sanna lifted herself slightly from the sofa, enough to get her hand inside and pull at the white thong.
"Yes I'm ok.. and you?" She asked Peter absentmindedly.
Evan was there with his hands in a hearbeat, and now Sannas thong was around her thighs and her dress up round her waist. And Evan had two fingers spreading her and in his arrogance seeking out her clit and.. how could he know that's how she enoyed it?? One finger on each side of it.. and rubbing..

"Yeah I'm fine. But I asked you when are you done there..? Sanna? Hello?"

"Oh.. ehm I'm not sure... I'll get back to you in a while, ok?"

She didn't even wait for a goodbye. She shut him down and threw the phone to her side, spread her legs wider and put both hands over her face. What the fuck was happening??

As he pulled her panties down from her hips, Evan leaned forward, his lips locking around a small portion of her statuesque, pale throat and sucking until the flesh was sufficiently tented into his mouth and then he bit down, pushing harder into her throat as she asked whoever was on the phone to wait—probably some scrub who only dreamed of getting this far with her.

Evan hadn’t even had to try very hard. High school girls were better lays and cheap dates, he made a mental note of that.

While he was almost certainly leaving a purple hickey on her pale skin, once Sanna took the phone from his right hand, he let his palm trail down her chin and the front of her throat until he grasped at her breast, cupping and squeezing it through her dress, pushing her back harder against the plush couch.

Meanwhile, Evan’s practiced fingers were working magic, teasing Sanna’s firm, almost untouched clit out from under its soft, damp, bubble-gum-pink hood and then baring down with his middle digit, dragging the swirls and ridges of his fingerprint over the exposed top of her bundle of gathered nerves, also stroking his way along her labial folds, gently urging her open, teasing more and more wetness from her.

She made some sort of noise after she managed to ditch whoever was on the phone, and he dragged another finger up from below her clit, passing gently over her urethra before coaxing more of her clit out to Evan’s merciless teasing. He kissed her again, deeply, aggressively as his thumb passed repeatedly over the outline of her nipple through her dress.

“Now, remember the only words you need to say… do you want to give me your virginity? Do you want me to fuck you, right here in my office before we go get lunch with your father?”

Sanna couldn't stop it. Was she like the rabbit in the headlights? Stricken by fear and unable to move? No. She had a moment of clarity and that moment actually brought a tear to her eye, and she knew Evan saw it. He probably saw it all, how she in the space of such a short a time, relinquished all control to a man. The patriarchy, her feminist friends would have said. They would have scolded her and told her she was weak to let a man take control of her and use her. The antithesis to all they stood for.

But he made her feel so fucking good.

"Yes Sir".

And like a last breath, she touched her promise ring.

“Good girl,” Evan sighed against her neck, observing his handiwork on her skin, “come here, now. I’ll give you a fitting reward—though I don’t have a condom. Do you want my raw cock?”

Evan knew the answer before he asked her, he’d given it to her, spoon fed her exactly what was expected of her to be the type of thing he desired. He relinquished his assault on her clit and pussy lips just long enough to forcefully tug one side of her panties down and off of her foot so that he could pull her far leg over him, so she could straddle him with her panties around one ankle.

Hurried and fevered hands tugged at his belt and his fly, lifting her entire body up from the couch as he tugged down his slacks and boxers. His thick cock was already hard, it made a slapping noise as it sprung up and collided with the bottoms of Sanna’s firm ass-cheeks. His hands moved to her slender, well-defined hips as he maneuvered her body until the wide head of his cock was pressed against her wet slit.

“You control how fast we go. I’m not going to thrust, you just lower yourself onto me when you’re ready. Wrap your arms around my neck, that’s it. As slow as you like… down we go, yes… bring that shit to me.”

Her phone started vibrating on the table again…

Her wetness. Her unbelievable wetness. Sanna had heard about the first time. The pain, the awkardness, the anti-climax. She felt this cock sink into her, and it was just fucking amazing. Yes, my god he was big.. but there was no problem. No pain, no problem. And she sank down further, and when it felt right she pushed her hips towards him going up, and then down, pushing back.. repeat, repeat, faster now. Sannas heart was beating so hard. She didn't dare look at Evan, she kept her eyes closed and soon found herself no longer in control of the motion, she held on as he gripped her by the hips hard and fucked her.

And that damn phone! Shut up!

"Yes, fuck yes--that's it!" Evan groaned, his finger spreading and sinking into the firm but pillowy flesh of her ass, pushing her down on his hard cock again and again, using the tightness of her tiny, little, weeping pussy to jack off his raw cock, "it feel's good doesn't it? My office is soundproof so you don't need to hold your voice in."

Evan planted his heels on the Turkish carpeting and began to thrust into the opposite rhythm of what he was guiding her ass to follow, hammering to the back of her little hole, stretching her around his depth each time their bodies met. The sound of her thighs and ass bouncing in his lap made a slapping noise as she continued bouncing, taking all of him down to the root.

"If you don't start making some noise I'm going to answer that fucking phone on speaker mode," Evan groaned, shifting his grip to reach up and grasp her shoulders from below, his elbows meeting at the small of her back and doing something like a crunch, using his whole body to slam his cock inside of her so deep that it felt like he might actually split her open, "thank me for the privilege of riding my cock and tell me that you love it. Tell me you love my cock."

Evan continued sandwiching her slender body between his hips and torso, like someone trying incorrectly to ride a pogo stick. When the phone stopped ringing, he stood up, his arms hips and cock keeping Sanna in his grasp as he carried her over to his desk, still buried inside her. He laid her on his immaculate, glass desk and bent her legs back until her toes were by her ears and drove down into her from above, one of his feet perched on the edge of the desk.

From this position, Evan was able to drive even deeper as he felt his climax drawing nearer and nearer. Driving down in something he'd heard called the "mating press" position. Just as he was about to nut, the phone on his desk chimed next to Sanna's head.

"Mr. Turner, Mr. Cross is here for your lunch meeting. Did you schedule a lunch without adding it to the calendar?"

"Stall him!" Evan cried out as he drove balls deep inside of Sanna and the first thick jets of his hot cum began to spray into her womb.

Poor Sanna was completely helpless. And Evan's demands on her, well she had no defence and she heard herself moan submissively and actually begging for him to fuck her. Fuck me, Sir! Yes!!

And that sound. That fucking sound. She could have focused on so many incredible sensations, and she would afterwards, but what struck her hardest as he pounded her this way was the sound. His body slamming into hers with an aggression and the sound it made. It filled the giant room, bouncing, reverbarating. Mother of god.

And when Sanna heard the secretary, and the realization her dear father was standing outside this office hit her, and she felt Evan orgasm deep inside her, she wanted to cry. and she did. No weeping, just tear-filled eyes as the two things happened simultaneously. This was the worst thing ever. This was the best thing ever.

"Oh good lord, sweet, fucking hell!" Evan groaned as he sank himself deep into Sanna's pussy again and blasted jet after jet of hot, thick cum against her deepest depths, ejaculating into her until his seed overflowed around the base of his cock and began to trickle between her ass cheeks and down her flat tummy, "Jesus H, ejaculation that was good."

Sighing again, Evan let his hand casually flop over Sanna's face, worried that he might never stop cumming if he kept looking at that blissed-out expression on her beautiful features. The newly awakened sex kitten in her blue eyes...

Even thinking about it made his cock jerk and more cum bled from the tip from arousal.

"Shit, we've got to put ourselves together!" Evan chuckled, not really caring what Bob thought, but knowing if they were too late for lunch Ozzy might take an interest in what was occupying Evan's time, which might expose Sanna to more than she seemed ready for, yet.

*-*-*

From outside the wall of opaque frosted windows, the office wasn't exactly as soundproof as Evan had suggested it was and despite Olga's feeble attempts at typing loudly and clearing her throat again and again, Bob could hear the sounds of slapping flesh, moans from both participants... even begging to be fucked, which made him hopeful that it was some other young bimbo in there with Evan and not his baby girl.

He'd never heard Sanna talk like that. Besides, he had raised her in the church's abstinence only philosophy, which as far as he knew, never failed.

Bob's hopes were quickly dashed when the click of the deadbolt turned over and the windows unfrosted. There was his darling daughter, hair a mess and her pretty dress disheveled...

He couldn't think any more about what other evidence of her indiscretion was confronting him within the office. He couldn't even look at Sanna... he turned away, choking back tears.

"Good to see you again, Bob," Evan remarked, clapping him on the shoulder, jovial as ever, "let's go see what our executive private chef has put together today."

*-*-*

((One minute ago.))

Realizing how little time they had left for cleanup, Evan suddenly had a brilliant but evil little idea.

"Hold still," he urged her, opening one of the drawers in his desk and emerging with a complex looking silicone vibrator, commonly known as the rabbit, "there's no time to clean you out, so we gotta keep it in..."

With her pussy still overflowing with his cum, Evan shoved the vibrator into her wet slit and then slid her panties back on, over her long, sexy legs, until the crotch of her panties was holding the vibrator inside her and a separate, vibrating appendage had her clit between two silicone rabbit's ears.

"Good enough, now try to compose yourself..."

Click!

Compose myself???
Sanna caught her dads eyes, and they met for a brief second. The tears in his made her heart stop, disappointment didn’t even begin to describe it. She looked away , focusing instead on what she had been asked which was the impossible task of composing herself. The sextoy in her, the alcohol, the manner in which she had just lost her virginity, the place she was in, a boyfriend wondering.. Composure?? She was near breaking apart. What was Evans gamble? Did he count on her keeping it together? Was he that cool? Or didn’t he care?

As they walked, Sanna kept close to the side of Evan. She couldn’t bear being close to dad, and she heard right behind them.. ‘Sanna.. please...’ A whispered, pleading whimper. God it almost made her angry.

The rabbit. Oh fuck it was.. she had no experience, and it was enough to try to concentrate on walking properly, let alone the sensation. Evan what an asshole. What a.. she couldn’t really find a word for him. She bit her lip and closed her eyes as she felt the sexual tension building inside her. Sanna realized that the only thing she really really wanted right was to cum. Orgasm. Now.

Evan linked arms with Sanna again, maintaining the illusion that nothing had changed between them, though she was having a much tougher time pretending, maybe with good reason. He kept Bob under his other arm, not wanting him to fall behind, lest he notice something strange about the back of his daughter’s dress. It was lucky that the central staircase that led up to the 80th floor private restaurant was wide enough to facilitate three walking abreast. As they ascended the cross-cut planks of wood, held in place by various brass spokes that held the wide stairs in the air.

As they transitioned floors, the all glass layout shifted from monochromatic, almost completely translucent, to vibrantly dyed and much more diffuse by the time light managed to filter in. A professional dressed in immaculate chef’s whites manned several active sauté pans. Around the open kitchen, Oscar Walker was already there waiting with some unfamiliar twenty something in a cocktail dress and his secretary seated behind him, trying to get some work done since his hangover seemed to be improving.

“Ho-ly fucking shit—you busy little ball buster—” Ozzy was just getting warmed up, but Evan made certain to cut him off, even as he had to give a little extra help to Sanna getting up the stairs.

“Oscar!” Evan shouted, using his full name to get his attention and halt his mouth, “of course you know Bob Cross, from the 56th floor. This is his daughter, Sanna Cross. I’m showing her around the office.”

At the realization that the struggling beauty on Evan’s arm was actually, the office whipping boy’s daughter sent Ozzy spilling out of his chair onto the floor with uncontrollable laughter. He was kicking his feet, tears were streaming down his face. He finally gasped loudly for air and shouted, “Legend!” before descending into belly splitting laughter.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sanna,” Ozzy’s date said in a sweet tone that made her sound absolutely moronic for not having a better read on the situation, “I’m Brandy.”

“Let’s go ahead and sit,” Evan sighed heavily, barely managing to keep a straight face, “Bob sit next to Mr. Walker when he gets back in his seat.”

“Oh yes, Bob. Come right over, boy have I got some questions to ask you,” Ozzy chuckled, his voice soaked in sarcasm while he used his cloth napkin to dramatically dust off the seat for Bob.

“I think I’d rather sit by my daughter,” Bob said firmly, staring at Evan with a determination heretofore unseen from the middling exec. What a time for him to grow balls.

“You’ll sit where the fuck I tell you, Bob. Now sit,” Evan demanded sternly, with little patience for Bob’s feelings while he had Ozzy’s unpredictable antics to deal with, “Sanna, this is another of our Executive Vice Presidents, Oscar Walker and Brandy apparently. Don’t take anything he says too seriously.”

“What could I get you, mademoiselle, monsieur’s?” the chef asked, plating up Ozzy and Brandy’s meals at their spots.

“Three lobster rolls and a bottle of Ace of Spades for the table,” Evan usually took Scotch with lunch, but both he and Sanna had gotten pretty deep into the Absinth in the morning, so champagne seemed a fitting compromise, “and the caviar appetizer board, also to share.”

“Very good, Mr. Turner,” The chef nodded, lining up a thick wooden paddle board and beginning an elaborate routine of knife-skills, arranging charcuterie around the board before laying out the caviar.

Evan helped Sanna into her seat.

“I was actually just talking to Sanna about her future, I think she’d be a terrific candidate for our Executive Internship program,” Evan said, staring daggers at Ozzy, pleading for him to be a decent wingman for once.

“Our what?” Ozzy didn’t get it at first, “—Oh! Right, of course. Executive Interns, wow you must really be something special Sanna!”

“Is that true, Pumpkin?” Bob asked, leaning forward in his stool, his face suddenly so hopeful, maybe his bright, studious little girl still was herself, “she’s very bright, she does model U.N. with her boyfriend Patrick. He’s a fine young man.”

Ozzy almost choked on his water.

The whole scene was absurd. Grotesque. Perverted and detestable. Sanna, still in the throes of what had just happened to her, and the absinth and this fucking thing in her pussy and everything else crazy about this day - looked out over the restaurant and the individuals that were now presented to her. The Sanna that had only a couple of hours ago still been the flower of decency and innocence and a witness to everything that is good, came defiantly back to life for a few seconds.

She observed this Ozzy with disdain. Was he maybe the worst of all? And the girl on his side - she knew all about them, she knew all about the Brandys of this world. She thought to herself: Yeah right. "Fitness model" yeah? Showing her ass on instagram, half naked on snapchat? Fucking her way in and out and up - but Sanna doubted that Brandy had the brains for that. Or maybe she did? Whatever. She couldn't care less.

The damn sextoy. Something happened, and a sensational wave of pleasure shot right up her spine. She almost, almost lost control, and was happy to be helped by Evan to her seat.

She heard her dad's submissive voice, and she wanted to shout to him to get a hold of himself, to stand up and be counted - to stick it to the fucking man..But of course she didn't. Instead she cringed as her dear stupid father tried to speak about her outstanding qualities. U.N? Yeah, dad. I've just been fucked senseless on a desk by your boss. Not once did he ask me for my resumè.. jesus, shut up..

“A boyfriend?” Ozzy chuckled, back in his seat and the choking hazard of his water averted, “that sounds just darling! Tell us about your boyfriend, Sanna? Have you fucked him yet?”

Brandy shot Ozzy a quick elbow, but he just laughed and accepted the glass of champagne from the chef. He just chuckled to himself, feeling confident that Evan had already been in there even though he was trying to join this grand performance where they pretended that he hadn’t been plowing the guts of this eighteen-year-old beauty.

“I’d like to hear more about this internship, actually,” Bob interjected, taking his champagne flute from the waiter, Bob was barely recognizable as the meek, bullied pup from other days at the office.

“Yes, well naturally it is a paid position…” Evan muttered, making it up as he went, accepting his drink with his right hand while his left caressed Sanna’s thigh under the counter, “she could just about write her own ticket to college with this on her resume. It won’t be easy though—she will have to work very closely with me, for long hours, out of state trips, unpaid overtime. She and I will need to continue discussing what all would be involved.”

As the glass of champagne was handed to Sanna at the end, Evan did his best to keep his touch on her thigh reassuring, but he couldn’t help from feeling incredibly turned on by knowing that his cum was still inside her along with the rather large and complex toy. He didn’t really care what she had to say, but merely wanted to hear her voice.

“Bo-ring!” Ozzy countered, refilling his own Scotch glass with the waiter’s help, “tell us more about this boyfriend of yours. Do you love him?”

Ozzy was turning out be the total dickhead she made him out be at first sight of him. Sanna ignored his stupidity, and luckily so was everyone else it seemed. Evan's hand on her thigh - well she decided to see it as a reassuring gesture, telling her that she was his guest and... her thought trailed off, as she was brought back to reality by what was up inside her, and who had been up inside her just recently...

"Evan, i think that's an interesting idea.. I mean, I had plans for Europe next year but maybe.. an internship here would be good for me, a useful merit on my CV.."

Sanna was fooling herself - and her father - but was doing a good job of it. She looked over at her poor dad, who was desperately trying to hold on to something in the debris and looking over at her encouragingly, and she wanted so badly to give that something to him.

"Yes.. I think it would be, dear.. I mean, Europe and the U.N will still be there after, won't they?" Bob smiled the smile of the silent and down-trodden middle-class. Holding on for dear life.

Sanna looked at Evan, and at Ozzy, who were momentarily dumstruck with disbelief. And she looked at Brandy. Their eyes met, briefly, before Brandy looked away. Knowingly.

Evan smiled wider as Sanna finally found her poker face and joined the conversation. He was proud of her, he wanted to reward her and knew exactly how. The timing was perfect, as the chef was delivering their appetizer to go with the expensive champagne—a wide, cross-cut oak cutting board, laden with exquisite soft cheeses and heaps of caviar piled at intervals between paper thin cuts of aged meats.

The presentation was immaculate and the total value of just the ingredients on the board was over two-thousand dollars. Evan slid his hand up Sanna’s skirt and flicked the first switch at the base of the vibrator that was still protruding out from her pussy. The switch he turned to half of full and the device began to writhe inside of her, like a worm on a hook, bending and twisting, trying to make itself into an S-shape but only ever achieving about a lower case “j’.

Letting his hand out from under the counter, Evan took a round of toasted crostini and used the miniature spreading knife on the board to ease a portion of black truffle brie onto the bread and then a drizzle of natural honey, then a healthy dollop of beluga caviar. Just as Sanna seemed to be reaching the limit of her composure, he held the small bit of food to her lips.

“Try this, it’s positively orgasmic,” Evan promised as he fed her the prepared bite slowly, the tiniest bead of honey slipping onto her bottom lip, “as it happens, I do have some overdue work in Europe this summer. If it’s something that interests you, I can arrange to have my business schedule about a month or so of travel and business. Might be best to have a grown up there as well. A young, attractive girl like Sanna could get herself in a lot of trouble without proper supervision.”

The second switch was flipped as Evan fed himself from the board, both set at halfway and the whole device, particularly the attachment on her clit—the rabbit, all started to vibrate at a very high frequency, the crotch of her thong holding it in place, even as it vibrated and undulated at once.