Mail Boys Revenge

When I got off the elevator, I saw her and hit a U-turn. It was just my luck that Ms. Annette Sabers heard the chime of the elevator and looked up.

"Hey! You! Come here."

She snapped her fingers at me like I was a dog. In her corporate world, I was. She was the big, powerful lawyer, me the lowly, disposable mailroom boy.

Instead of saying, "Bitch, don't fucking snap at me" like I wanted to, I went to her.

She was behind the receptionist desk. It was eight-forty at night, so of course the receptionist was gone, but there was something in the computer that she wanted.

"Can you unlock this thing?"

"Not without the password."

She heaved a breath and muttered, "Good for nothing," under her breath.

I walked away, continuing to the reason why I came to the fifteenth floor in the first place. I dropped the stack of Manila envelopes addressed to Brian Oliver onto his desk. His office was huge. Always made me feel like I needed to step my game up when I came in here. He was my age, twenty-six, and had a corner office. If I stopped playing about school, I could be in a similar position by thirty.

"What are you doing in here?"

I rolled my eyes. Bit my lip. Hid my annoyance before I turned to her. "Dropping Brian's mail off."

"That's Mr. Oliver to you." She folded her arms stiffly, her lips pulled into a frown just as tight.

"My fault. Mr. Oliver." I didn't bother mentioning me and him were cool and he insisted I call him Brian.

"Is there any mail for me?"

"Downstairs."

"Why didn't you bring it up?"

I closed my eyes briefly, vexed. "The last time we saw each other, Ms. Sabers, you told me never to come in your office again."

"Well... Have that other little girl bring me my mail by the time I get in tomorrow. I'm expecting an important package."

She departed with that. I looked around the office one more time then left.

She was still at the reception desk. Her bun had come loose, a few strands of dyed dark-burgundy hair tucked behind her ear. The messiness made her look less menacing. Softer. So did the absence of her jacket that left her in a white silk blouse that was tastefully loose but couldn't hide her protruding nipples. They stuck out the cream fabric like the thick tips of tootsie rolls. I bet they were just as brown too.

"Be gone now, mail boy," she said.

I don't know what it was. Maybe it was the femininity I was suddenly seeing in her that made me say, "Don't talk to me like that."

Her head shot up, her eyes big and shocked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I better not have heard you correctly." She stood.

I came back to my senses. Yes, she was a woman, but she was a woman that could have me fired with a snap of her fingers.

"Who do you think you are, telling me what to do and what not to do?"

She was creeping over to me, her eyes on fire. She would get in my face. Intimidate me. We'd done this song and dance when I'd respectfully tried to tell her I couldn't deliver her mail before everybody else's. I had to make my way from the bottom of the building to the top. She'd glowered at me, told me to get out of her office, never come back, and pray I had my job in the morning.

She was in my face now. Eyes boring into mine.

"Apologize to me. Right. Now. For speaking out of turn."

"I'm sorry, Ms. Sabers."

She nodded, the corner of her mouth lifting upwards. "That's right. Tuck your little dick between your legs and get out of my face."

She turned.

It was on impulse, my anger getting the best of me. It was like my father and my grandfather and his father came up out of me, refusing to let this five-foot-seven, one-hundred-ten-pound hound of Satan disrespect me for the umpteenth time.

I grabbed a fistful of her blouse and yanked her back into me, my arm going around her body, my other hand around her neck. She struggled against me, tried to free herself. My hold on her was unbreakable, a fact she realized only after she'd tired herself out.

"Now what, huh? The way you talk I thought you had some strength to back it up. You don't, do you? You're just a big mouth and a helpless pussy."

"You're the pussy," she spat back. "Attacking a helpless woman."

"You're helpless now? You was just saying fighting words."

"And I'll be throwing fighting punches"—she jerked, trying again to free herself to no avail—"the second you let me go."

"Then I won't let you go."

She doubled over then threw her head back, narrowly missing my face with that attempted head butt. The only thing it succeeded in doing was making my dick hard at the feel of her ass flush against it.

It was an instant hard-on, brought on by my months of working late and falling asleep the moment I got home. No time for booty calls. Forced celibacy.

The moment she felt it poking her, she stilled.

"You fucking pervert."

This wasn't supposed to be sexual. I had no idea what it was supposed to be besides me having an angry outburst. My immediate thought was to release her and go back downstairs and start on my resignation. That thought was interrupted by her grinding against me.

What was she doing? I groaned, the contact supremely pleasant.

"You like that. Is this what you wanted from this exercise of power? Some ass?"

"No. But now, yes."

"What are you going to do then? Take it? Hmm, mail boy?"

She was still grinding. Is that what she wanted? She didn't seem disturbed by the notion.

"I'm not sure what I'll do if you tell me no."

"Let go of my arms."

I did. I thought she'd hit me, retaliate. I prepared myself for it. She didn't though, instead using her freedom to lift her skirt up to her waist.

"Is your dick big enough to fuck me like this?"

"Sure."

"Then restrain me again and fuck me, mail boy."

I complied. Took my dick out.

She spread her legs so I could push my dick up in her. I wrapped my arm back around her body and throat, and started fucking her in the standing position. She moaned so loud you would've thought she'd never taken a big dick. Then again, maybe her uptight ass hadn't.

It was a different energy fucking somebody you didn't like. There was more to prove. More force behind the thrusts like you were throwing punches. I fucked her pussy with all the anger and frustration and annoyance I'd endured for the last six months.

That standing shit wasn't delivering the message properly. I took her to the floor, putting her on her back, legs pushed all the way up, nearly to her shoulders. I spit on my hand, wiped it on the head of my dick. She was going to get what she deserved after the many headaches she'd given me. I positioned my moist dick at her asshole and pushed it in.

She lost her mind. Grabbed at her breasts, at my shirt, at her own skin. Her hands were everywhere as she moaned, arched, made ugly faces.

"Take this dick." I pulled her blouse up. Put my palms over her tiny breasts, fucking her asshole as hard and as deep as I could.

"More," she half moaned, half growled.

I gave her the opposite, letting my dick bust just then. I groaned at the ceiling as my hips gave one final deep thrust, my body frozen in ecstasy. Pulling out hadn't been an option. Rather I was in her ass or pussy, I had to cum in her. It was a hate thing.

I got up immediately after and dressed. I'd busted my nut, made my point. It was time to go. Still had that resignation to start on.

"You're still a pussy ass little boy," she shouted after me. "Couldn't even make me cum, weak ass."

"Have fun washing my cum out of you," I mumbled under my breath. "Have a good night, Ms. Sabers," I said aloud.