Another Day At The Office

All characters are fictional And made up in my own head.

You just love that feeling when he pulls you're hair and calls you a whore.

His cold fingers grip hot skin, the breath against your neck.

It's just like a dream but the sharp pain that numbs after a while keeps you from drowning in desires.

You're a bad girl he croons as his hand strike up, grazing the plump flesh; the rose colour appears so sudden.

Just squeezing those eyes tightly as the breeze of the lifted anticipated hands rises to smack that dirty little ass again.

You bite your lip so hard that it is sure mark, and the copper taste touches the tip of your tongue.

In you're mind you say a stop but lustful pleasure requires more.

Wrapping the raven locks in his fist, his lips burn the crook of your neck, nibbles become agonizing bites and you hold back a moan, don't let him hear you , not yet just a little more.

You're cold and ridged he will not see you squirm or whither under his touch, not yet net you say in that filthy mind.

A deep breath fills your lungs as you feel his warmth fade away and move slowly around.

A chill sets in, he had pulled the little tartan skirt over the hips, exposing, and sore from abuse,

Red buttocks exposed as you grip the desk, manicured nails denting, breaking as they scrape the oak.

He walks away and lights a cigarette, you stay, obediently as his eyes watch and hungrily undress, exploring a bent over body.

Paperwork scattered and a half filled cup of cold coffee sits as you stare at it, you are waiting, feeling like a piece of meat. Sensing his dark eyes burn a hole though those light clothes to the black lace bodice that hold up the silk stockings.

But you wait, cold look on your face staring at the brown stained cup.

You feel him approach the scent, his musk lingers, his heat.

He puts the cigarette in your mouth, and you drain all you can, tasting the pleasure of the nicotine, buzzing though your veins in a rush.

He takes it away and stubs it out, in a little glass ashtray near by.

The fingers cup that petite chin and hot lips press against your cheek.

The feeling is good blowing your mind, just close your eyes again, taking every inch of his scent.

The stubble chin grazed your soft delicate skin, it drives you wild the hairs stand up on the back of your neck, you want to feel more but not yet, not yet, you say in that filthy head.

Barley audible he says something, soft but harsh.

It sounded dirty and pulsating in the rhythm.

"I'm going to fuck you little slut" he uttered smoothly into your ear.

It ran in your brain, ran down your body, between your legs, tingling and wanting something sharp there.

Again a moan is sighed back, eyes firmly shut and the pain in your cherry lips ached.

Hips held tightly grinding on to that hard desk; he holds your wrists so tight that your tiny hands turn blue.

You see your wedding ring, ignore it, ignore it you chant as he slips down your thong over your slim thighs, the weeks of working out has paid of you think.

Twenty five minutes, Twenty five, it goes around and around as you look up at the old brown antique clock by his door.

The second hand goes around, tick...tick and thrust ...tick and another; hard jolting forwards as he fuck you over his desk.

But still you muffle the sound behind your breath; he will; will not beat me he will not.

Then came the pain again, a sharp whip across your butt and again the tears prick the backs of your Blue eyes.

It's too much; you want to cry out as he pushes harder and grunts, pressing your hands harder, you feel him grow he is close you grin; he his close.

Faster, harder and a burst, like an exploding water main, as he shakes and groans over your withering body.

And you you grit your teeth hard, feeling his nails welt the flesh.

And you smile yes you do, as he pulls away and you hear the accomplishment of his pants.

Adjusting himself he walks over to you, not happy as he knew the score.

You grin like a school girl and point to the old brown clock.

"Well I think lunch is on you Mr Damson, you did say..."

"YES; yes alright, you win Faye, it seems that I failed.

He grabs his suit jacked and pulls up his tie; you admire his form and ravishing good looks, and wish you had screamed from the top of your lungs his name as he fucked you real good but then the game would stop, and we don't want that do we.

Another time maybe, how much more as the week goes on until you give in?

There is always tomorrow, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and maybe next week.

You rub you finger over your mouth as you study his ass in those tight black trousers.

He drives you crazy, as he looks around at you again a smirk played on his lips.

"I bet you will give in, I bet you I will make you scream my name." He playfully and egoistically bragged pointing his finger and wriggles it up and down at you.

You flirtingly flutter your long massacred lashes and smile back at him.

'I have all the time in the world and it's only Monday', you think as you put on your coat.

The end