Office Rivalry to Office Slavery

I first met Nick on a tour of the offices that the firm gave to all the prospective recruits. We were competing even then, for the two spots that our prestigious law firm had open that year. At first sight, we didn't get along. He went to Harvard for his undergrad, and I went to their arch rival Yale. He seemed to me that he thought himself God's gift to women, and he probably thought of me as one of those women who "had" to prove I could make it in a man's world.

We both won that first competition, thanks to the two open spots. But it's been head-to-head since then. Stuff like the first to pass the bar (me by 20 minutes), the first to get a secretary (he did), the first primary lawyer on an account (me), the first to a corner office (him), and throughout this all the competition to see who could get the most clients and the better cases. Early on, I held my own, but it seemed of late that he was winning an increasing amount of the time.

Then the most important contest of them all arose. A partnership in our firm was available, and Nick and I were the front-runners. A four-week long process consisting of interviews of clients, co-workers, and ourselves as well as reviews of our past work was undertaken. This all culminated in December, and the decision was to be announced at the office Christmas party.

The night was off to bad start when moments after walking in, Nick caught me under the mistletoe. He slipped me the tongue as well as copping a generous feel of my ass leaving me a little flustered. But as the evening wore on, I started enjoying myself. The wine was flowing, and I was one of the few single women at the firm while there was plenty of men (both single and not), so I went getting plenty of attention in my little black dress. There was music and dancing, which was fun, except for Nick. It wouldn't exactly look good to the partners if I turned him down, but he always danced a little closer than I was comfortable with. Close enough that the combination of my 5'7" height and his 6'1" frame meant I was looking straight up, and he seemed like he was staring straight down... into my cleavage.

Then the announcement came. The senior partner chimed his cup, and called... Nick forward. I nearly lost my composure. I was seething, so I downed a couple more glasses of wine. Shortly after, it was getting closer to the end of the evening, and I was feeling a little tipsy. Nick approached me.

"You lose again, Kate."

"Yes." I nodded, then managed to squeak out a congratulations. But that wasn't what he was looking for.

"Looks like I keep fucking you over, doesn't it?" He said with a smirk on his face.

I shrugged, biting my lip not to say anything job-threatening. He was my superior now.

"You know what would be fun? Really fucking you over."

I blushed then turned to leave.

"Can you picture yourself with my cum over my face?" He taunted. He obviously had his share of alcohol tonight too. As he said that though, that very image appeared unbidden in my head. Me naked kneeling in front of him with white sticky goo covering my face. I froze with my back towards him. It was kind of hot actually.

"Why not? You've already lost the best cases and clients to me, and now, the partnership. Why not go ahead and give me everything else?"

I stood frozen, unbelieving I was considering such a thing, but I was. No doubt due to the late hour, the wine, not being laid in a while, and that musky scent he was wearing. Meh, the scent probably had nothing to do with it.

At the moment, one of the other partners walked up, shook Nick's hand in congratulations. He was midway through asking if everything was alright between us, when Nick assured him, then grabbed me by the arm, and escorted me to his car. He helped me into his sports car, and we headed to his place.

"You made the right decision, slut."

No one called me slut. No one I worked with, and definitely, no one I slept with. But that was about to change.

We got to his house, and he led me into the living room, where he promptly took a seat and left me standing there.

"I want to see you strip." He commanded. I nodded and began doing so. He critiqued me as I did, everything from how I took off my shoes to the complexion of my nipples. It was embarrassing, but I kept on. When I was done and completely nude, he snapped his fingers, motioning me to come.

"Give me a bj, then I'm going to give you that pearl necklace I promised."

I knelt, unzipped him, and slowly inserted his cock into my mouth. Swirling my tongue around it, I could feel it growing. Apparently he had enough of the take-it-slow treatment, Nick shoved me onto my back, sitting on my chest, he started thrusting in my mouth. Movements later, he pulled out and exploded on my face as he promised. He laughed at me. It's a horribly embarrassing and humiliating thing to be laughed at while you're having sex. He reached out his hand and smeared even more the cum across my face, chuckling still, then proffering me his fingers to lick, which I did.

Getting up, he pulled me by the hair. "C'mon, bitch. I'm not done with you yet." He took me down to his basement, leading me by my hair all the way. Soon I was on my knees again with a spreader bar at my ankles, and my arms tied behind my back.

"Here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to whip your breasts, then you're going to kiss my feet, okay?"

I couldn't believe the nightmare I had seemingly gotten myself in. He pulled out switch, and started delivering stings of pain to me, leaving long, red slashes on my cantaloupe sized teats. I was in tears when he stopped, and he stood in front me and waited expectantly until I remembered my part -- kissing his feet.

He yanked me up once again by my hair and retied my hands from behind my back to the spreader bar I had on, so I was bent over holding my ankles. He lined himself up behind me and started fucking me. I just stood there and groaned, doing my best to maintain my balance. Then he started thrusting harder, and I fell over, and he kept hammering away at me, making contact with my cervix, slapping my tits, and leaving red hand prints overlapping the brighter red slashes from the switch. Then he came. He got up and walked upstairs, leaving me in a crumpled heap with my hands still tied to my spread ankles. I heard the door close and lock.

Life at the office wouldn't be the same.