CHAPTER ONE
"Get back on the phone," my manager snaps as he slaps my desk.
"Nobody's picking up anyway," I snap back at him. I'm looking at my cell so I don't know if he sees my eyeroll, but he can probably hear it in my voice. I don't care.
"You've just been typing on that thing for hours. What are you writing?"
"Why? Don't ask me shit like that. It's none of your business."
When I look up, his fly is at eye level. No bulge. Must be a tiny cock.
"You're so transfixed that you're not working. I'm curious as to what's so worthy of your precious attention." His tone was slightly sardonic, but I couldn't roll my eyes this time, my gaze had lifted to his face. Brown hair just long enough to curl, brown eyes, a strong jaw. What a manly man. The kind that irritates me when they think they can control me because I'm a woman.
I can control men, I just need to play with them a little. "Look, I'm calling, buddy. Like I said, nobody is picking up. Clearly there's nothing worthy of my attention here," I pause to gesture at the crotch of his pants with intent and continue, "so you can go back to your little spot and look at my stats instead of interrogating me."
I wasn't afraid of his authority, he was just promoted a week ago and his position is only a level above mine. He reported to our shared manager, and she loved me because I'm good at what I do. Good luck getting me in trouble.
He was also one of those male coworkers that didn't disgust me. I liked it when he talked to me, as much as I'd pretend otherwise. I tended to twirl my hair and give him doe eyes when we talked to me.
"I think I'm worthy of your attention, and I won't leave you alone, because you're worthy of mine." He put one hand of the back of my chair and one on its arm. He towered over me and his assumedly small cock was even closer to my face. A warmth in my vulva betrayed me.
"Oh yeah?" I cocked my head, he was making it easy. I looked into his eyes and smirked, "I agree that I'm worth looking at." I pulled down the already plunging neckline of my top, revealing half of my tits, all the way down to my lacy bra. I lean into him, looking up at him right below his cock. "But I don't know if you are."
"You clearly like what you see, you've been taking an eyeful. You could take more."
I glance around, and I see a male coworker watching us. It makes me want to stroke his cock even more, so I do. I rub him through his pants, and then cup where his balls are. I'm surprised to find that there's more to grab than I thought, the thick material of his pants just hid it. His cock is erect. It becomes even bigger as I rub it hard enough for him to feel it.
I whisper this time so Sam the voyeur couldn't heat it: "looks like I already made the little man hard. You've been out your fragile masculinity on me, huh?"
He whispers back, "I'm not taking out anything on you. Look at how you dress, you're clearly insecure and looking for attention."
"I'm not insecure, I dress like this because I'm confident that guys like you will get hard just looking at me. You did, didn't you?"
"I got hard as soon as you looked up at me, giving me that coy look." In terms of our banter, he's giving into me, but his quiet tone conveys that he's the one in charge. "If you're not insecure, you clearly want to be fucked. You want to blow me, don't you? You'd kneel for me."
My tone changed as I said, "this isn't appropriate language for the workplace. I pulled my hand away. My snarky confidence when I put men in their place relies on my intuition that they'll back down. It hit me that he wasn't going to back down. He stopped caring about workplace ettiquette as soon as I did.
"Come with me," he commanded, suddenly loud enough for Sam to hear. "We need to talk about this."
I'm frozen, looking up at him with an expression of fear that must've been satisfying for him.
"Come on. We need to talk privately, I don't want to embarrass you in front of Sam. It's for the best, everybody deserves dignity in the workplace." Now he's the one smirking, a glimmer of unchecked aggression and satisfaction in his eyes, and a massive erection in his pants.
I get up and he leads me to the stairwell.
"We don't work upstairs. It's a different team. They're not here today," and even as I say it, I realize why that's our destination.
"I know that," he spat, looking over his shoulder at me. "You're such a little bitch, you know that?"
I don't respond. As resigned to my fate I feel, I technically could make a break for it. I'd be fired, but if I wanted to avoid the inevitable, I could escape. It doesn't even occur to me. I feel anxiety in my chest, but my entire vulva was throbbing. I had ignored the tingling in my clit that began right before I started rubbing his cock, but now my pelvic floor muscles were tightening and relaxing as if I was already massaging his cock inside me. The desire was so intense that I rubbed my clit over my shorts for a second before catching myself, not wanting him to see.
We entered the big room that dominated the upper floor, unused and furnished only with a single empty desk and a shitty couch. He slams the door shut and grabs my shoulders. I tripped over my feet until I hit the wall, facing him as he pinned me up against it
He struck me hard against my cheek. "You're not the feisty bitch you pretend you are."
"I don't know what you're talking about-"
He slaps me again before saying, "you're a sweet little girl, aren't you?"
"Sometimes."
"You're a sweet baby girl who pretends she's bad when it's convenient."
I try to worm my way out of his grasp, so he grabs my right arm and pushes my chest back with his left hand, right below my clavicle. In retrospect, I could have kicked him, but in reality I was thrusting my hips towards him, pressing myself against his erection.
"How do you know I really am sweet, and I'm not hiding that I'm actually a bitch?"
