Printer hums in the corner. Coffee scent mixes with my perfume—heavy, floral, teasing. Open space buzzes. Colleagues click mice, type furiously. I shuffle dossiers. Heart races. Boss’s email hits: ‘Conference room. Now. Wear what I gave you.’ Lingerie under pencil skirt. Black lace, garters high. Stockings whisper against thighs. I glance around. Stares linger. That intern smirks. Hierarchy pulses. Stress coils tight.
Door clicks shut behind me. Lock snaps—loud, final. Conference room dim. Blinds half-drawn. Late afternoon light slices in. I obey. Drop to all fours on table. Ass to door. Lights off. Silk blindfold ties snug. World black. Pulse thuds in ears. Footsteps? No. Just AC hum. Minutes drag. Nipples harden against lace. Pussy aches already. Adrenaline spikes. What if someone knocks? Cleaner? Colleague? Thrill bites deep.
The Building Tension
Shadow moves. Breath hot on skin. Hand grazes ass—firm, possessive. I arch. Push back. Finger traces thong. Slips under. Wet already. ‘Good girl,’ his voice growls. Michael—boss. Not alone? Whispers. Chuckles. Team? Fuck. Heart hammers. Door locked. In soundproof room. No escape. No want to. ‘Say hello,’ he commands. Voices murmur. Polo team? No—his exec crew. Five suits. Polo shirts peek. Smells of cologne, coffee.
The Wild Release
Panic? No. Rush floods veins. Serious pro by day. Slut now. Finger probes deeper. Circles clit. I moan. ‘Light on?’ he asks. ‘Yes, Michael…’ Blindfold off. Eyes adjust. Ten eyes on me. Ages mix. Grins hungry. Fesses high. Lace stretched. Tits spill from bra. ‘Team meeting,’ he laughs. Sits beside. Hand strokes back. ‘Could’ve fucked you blind. Shared pics. Viral slut.’ Silence. They shift. Zips tease.
No harm. They file out. Door shuts. Alone. ‘Careful next time.’ He leaves. Skirt smooths. Lace soaked. Back to open space. Dossiers stack. Smile pro. No one knows.