You Look Up From Your Desk

Hearing the door swing open in the small room you look up from the head of the table where you have your laptop set up with papers next to it ready for the meeting. Your crisp white blouse boasts a sharp black trim, and your sleek black skirt mirroring the reverse. The clean lines of your attire, outlining your full figure, telegraph authority, leaving no room for doubt about your position. Stilettos push your already above average height even taller and as the Manager of Operations the mostly male employees have to literally look up at you.

You stop dead, when you see me walking through the door and down along the glass wall towards you. Your mind, usually so ready with a witty comment or amused smirk suddenly wiped blank awash with shock. Your mindless humming, the nerdy girl pen spinning, the rhythmic tapping of your feet, all come to a full stop, yet your heart pounds with the beat of a thousand drums. You catch your breath, as you glance out to the open floor of employees staring at their monitors, and swallow hard. You try to rise, or speak out in protest, but find your body frozen in the intensity of my gaze as I come ever closer, never allowing your eyes to stray from mine. With just my look I bind you to your seat, unable to protest, you feel your stomach tighten, as you are expecting employees to start arriving for the meeting.

Who will you say I am? What would you tell them? Why am I here? How will your male subordinates see you if they found out the truth? Does Sir know what time it is?

All of these pressing yet irrelevant questions flash through your head as I approach ever closer. You start to panic.

Yes, of course, I know what time it is. I was the one that had told you to set this meeting, with the regular employees, lowest of the hierarchy in your building.

I stop in front of you, so close, knees almost touching your seat. My unyielding eyes do more than just demand your submission, it also calms and in the familiar presence of my physical being and scent, the room along with the fear melts away. I raise my hand to your face, using both of yours, you cup mine in your and bring it to your face. You lean into me taking comfort in the warmth of my hand, while I caress your face and brush my thumb over your lips painted in a deep shade of red today as instructed. As you take in my presence, and the fear subsides you feel a sudden flutter in your chest and a growing warmth between your legs.

Without opening your eyes, or remembering where you are, your soft lips part for my thumb, as you take it in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around my thumb and bring it all the way in your mouth and I can feel the back of your throat as you give a hard suck. Slowly, you bring your lips back to the very tip of my thumb and glance up at me to see me smiling down at you. You give it a kiss and flash me your wicked seductive grin before closing your eyes and taking it in your mouth again, sitting up straighter you puff out your chest and in one swift motion, you rescue the top two buttons of your blouse that was hanging on for dear life.

Time passes unknowingly, in the silent room that is just filled with the sound of your kissing and sucking on my thumb and the few soft moans that escape your lips. You're so lost in your task that you do not hear the group of men walking down the hallway for the meeting until they push open the door. Your freeze and your body tenses up, there is absolutely no way to explain away what you're doing and it is glaringly obvious what is going on. You try to pull away and offer some sort of flimsy excuse to the crowd of men at the other end of the table, the lowest group of employees, you usually give every little thought to.

I hold your head by the chin with my thumb firmly on your tongue, not allowing you to look at them, instead I tilt your head up so your eyes meet my gaze. I say nothing, as the seconds tick by silently, the room only filled with the shocking gasps as more men filed into the room. I remain silent and unmoving, your eyes locked on mine too afraid to move, the two of us as though statues, my dark eyes settles you once again. You relax a bit and once again you close your eyes. I slowly release your face and retrieve my thumb from your mouth, only to put the tip of two fingers on your lips.

Without hesitation, you kiss it and move my hand to push it into your mouth. I feel the back of your throat and a small tensing of muscles but you control yourself quickly and hold it there. You use your tongue like you've been trained, I feel the warmth of your blushed face, and the heat in your chest as you feel the eyes of your male employees on you. The feeling of being watched and your shame growing within you urges you to go even harder and soon there is a small sliver of drool flowing from the corners of your mouth. I pull my fingers out, your lipstick smears slightly on them with a trail of drool. I wipe it on your cheek and on the bridge of your nose before reinserting them.

This time I take control and push back into your throat, you gag but resist the urge to pull back. Instead you clasp my hands and pull me in even deeper. You silently count the thirty seconds you've been trained to hold as your body spasms around my fingers. After the count, you pull my fingers out for a breath, I'm no longer holding you but you've no desire to see who's in the room anymore, that concern has long since departed your mind. After a short rest, you pull my fingers into your mouth once more as deep as you can. You squeeze your eyes shut as the time ticks by and small black streaks start forming down your cheeks. I was specific about not having waterproof make up this morning and I'm glad to see your attention to detail.

You rest for another breath, a small wet spot has already formed at the top of your chest. You are visibly heaving from the strain while you battle with your will to submit and your body's need for oxygen, as you take my fingers into your throat again. I step back and turn slightly to give the crowd a better view as they cautiously creep towards us at the head of the table, some of them attempting to hide the phones in their hands. You stop for another breath, I take control once again and push my fingers into your throat sooner than you're ready and you cough and spasm with the sudden intrusion and choke on your own saliva.

Seeing no objections from me and still incredulous to the events unfolding before their eyes, the men completely abandon their attempts to hide their phones now. I've switched my hold on you so one hand is behind your head with a firm grasp on your long red hair at the base of your skull while I finger your mouth with my other hand to give the best unobstructed view for your male subordinates. I'm in full control of your head as I tilt it all the way back and you're looking straight up at the ceiling and my first spoken command comes, for you to keep your eyes open. The slim frame of your glasses pushed to one side, half hanging off your nose, one lens over an eyebrow while the other end is reaching from your mouth.

From this angle I push my fingers even deeper into your throat and you fight desperately to keep your eyes open to follow my command. I tilt your head slightly towards your male underlings so you can see your humiliation in the cameras pointed at you, and so they can see clearly your struggle when they are showing this to the rest of the men in the building.

You're on your seventh or eighth long hold, but this time I don't pull back, I keep your head locked in place next to my body and the fingers deep in your throat. Fifteen long seconds past the normal time and you're fighting for air, your palms open, your slender fingers fully extended and you flex between fully open and tight fist, but you don't try to pull me out of you. You gag hard and a large blob of drool follows my fingers out of your mouth and plops loudly onto your chest, wetting the top of your black bra and splashing the blouse.

You get your second command, arms behind your back, you fold your arms onto the small of your back as you've been trained and grab the opposite elbow with each hand. No rope this time, obviously, only your will to submit and please me will keep your arms in this position as I do what I will to you. Each subsequent fingering of your throat and holding is longer than the last and your fingers and nails dig into your arms as you strain to comply.

This one has already at least doubled the time you're used to and your legs start fluttering and her tall heels now tap out a staccato chorus perfectly articulating your struggle while you yourself cannot muster a single word. You plead with me, using your eyes, conveying your limits, your total submission and trust. The trust you confide in me to hold you over the very edge and safely bring you back. Finally, I pull back and hold you tightly to me, gently wiping my fingers on your other cheek while you rest your weight on me and gasp to catch your breath.

I hold you to me, your tears and drool soaking into my expensive jacket, your make up streaked and smeared near one of the pockets. It's gonna need a fresh dry cleaning, but it's a small price to pay for your loyal submission and comfort. You wrap your arms around my legs and steady yourself against me, with a giant smile on your face. I feel your breathing gradually return to a normal tempo and your heartbeat settle.

I bend down and give you a quick kiss on top of your head, "Good girl. I must go, you've still got a meeting to conduct and I'd hate to keep the gentlemen patiently gathered waiting any longer."

I pull away and head for the door, shooting the guys in the room a grin and a thumbs up before stepping out of the room. Leaving you there at the head of your meeting, hair disheveled, blouse soaked, revealing the top of your chest, and makeup running down your face. You sit there, head spinning from the shock of living out your fantasy, feeling your juices in your panties squishing up against your bare skin.

Falling back in bliss you only manage to whisper five words.

Meeting adjourned thanks for coming.