Freedom of Indecision Ch. 01

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The office is a jungle and I was prey.
2.1k words
4.3
20.9k
17

Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 10/20/2017
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darkmaas
darkmaas
26 Followers

This is about sex and power.

The events took place five years ago, but still ripple through my life.

::

I had been working at the investment bank for three months in a pool of new hires that do much of the financial and legal dog work, while waiting to be assigned actual positions in the various departments. It was stressful; you worried about your performance, your fellow "kids in the pool" getting ahead of you or, worst of all, being deemed "unsuitable" and dismissed unceremoniously.

The job demands an A-type response to the daily grind. It's schizophrenic and a non-stop pressure cooker: a "work hard, play hard" environment that embraces "survival-of -the-fittest" as its unwritten "Mission Statement".

Each morning I donned my corporate uniform: white blouse, pencil skirt and heels and then my psychic armour of efficient professionalism and constrained ambition. My co-workers would be surprised if they learned that in my personal life I am much softer. I self identify as sexually submissive. In reality, I love going home, locking the apartment door, dropping the pretense and letting someone else take the reins. Alas, I had left my love life behind in Montreal when I took this job. Behind that apartment door there was no one else to take the reins.

::

An older executive, Armand St. Pierre, recognized my corporate act for what it was on first meeting and effortlessly took me. Took me in every sense of the word. Mind, body then soul. (He later told me he could smell my need). He was a high-functioning psychopath. I was prey.

I had been dragged along to a meeting in the tower facing ours with a client and a wrinkled lawyer from Mergers and Acquisitions. It was dull stuff - mostly posturing from the client brokerage, which Armand politely brushed away without sounding dismissive. Mission accomplished, everyone departed and he and I descended to the lobby.

He suggested we go to lunch and I went. It was pleasant enough; a nice restaurant off the lobby of the Hotel Metropolitan. I don't remember what we ate. He was witty; I laughed. He pontificated on life, fine wine, money and power; I nodded. He offered mentoring advice; which I absorbed sagely. Mostly though, I remember he treated me like an adult, which was refreshing after several months of being the "intern" from the pool. I don't recall him flirting overtly but there was an mist of latent sexuality that hung over our table. Maybe it was an air of constrained power that manifested as sex. He was certainly exuding it in spades: power suit, expensive shoes, immaculate shirt and a conversation where deals and mergers were laid out in a framework of the "hunt". The rather dull white cotton panties I had chosen without much thought that morning were damp. Certainly not power panties!

After he settled the bill, he stood to pull out my chair and said, "Come".

I went.

We crossed the lobby to the concierge who simply said, "Room 1206, sir", handed him a room card and accepted a folded banknote. Armand passed the card to me and said, "Come along, Jessica. We don't have all day."

We turned and headed to the elevators. I was totally perplexed at what was happening. Surely he didn't think that lunch included a trip up twelve floors to a bedroom with a man I barely knew. What was going on? There had to be another explanation. Another meeting perhaps? Of course some rational corner of my mind must have known what was up, but a lifetime of being admonished to respect authority and never cause a scene conspired to keep my tongue frozen.

The elevator stopped and he exited. I considered letting the doors close and descending back to the lobby but that seemed a bit over the top and highly likely to annoy. I still had the room key in my hand. He stopped in front of a door and turned to see what was keeping me. He frowned.

"Will you please hurry up and open the damned door?"

I did as I was told. He let me enter first then followed behind. The door closed with a click, then he threw the deadbolt. With a pat on my bottom he ushered me into the room. I was standing in front of a desk with a mirror behind it.

I opened my mouth to speak but he put a finger to my lips and said, "When the door closes, Jessica, you become mine. This is what you really want. Just follow my lead and enjoy the freedom of indecision."

In a normal seduction I suppose the same sort of thing happens. Each step of the way seems harmless enough until you find yourself at a point where you cannot stop without looking foolish or frightened. I have never slept with somebody on a first date and rarely before a several weeks of the courtship dance. This was just moving at the speed of light. A month long seduction compressed into the time it takes an elevator to rise twelve floors.

He no doubt saw capitulation in my eyes and began to undress me. I kept my eyes staring down at my shoes. He unbuttoned my blouse, opened the front and pushed it over my shoulders. It bunched at my wrists and I started to pull the cuffs over my wrists.

"Leave them there", he said. My arms were effectively pinned at my sides.

He pulled my bra straps over my shoulder and popped my breasts free leaving the bra where it was. He gave each nipple a quick pinch and they immediately hardened up and stood proud - traitors to my indecision.

He went behind me to unzip my skirt, which slid with a swish to puddle around my ankles. Then my panties followed, entangling my ankles in cotton manacles.

Now that he was behind me I could see myself in the mirror. I barely recognized the woman looking back; mostly naked with a stunned look on her face. I reflexively stood a bit straighter and tried to look a little less like the proverbial deer-in-the-headlights.

I started to protest, "Mr. St. Pierre ..."

"Quiet Jennifer," he whispered in my ear.

Then before the spell was broken, he put one hand on my pubic mound and the other on the back of my neck and gently folded me forward until I was prone on the desk looking to the right.

"Spread your legs a bit".

He gently kicked the inside of my left ankle. Reflexively, I pushed them as far apart as my panties allowed. "Good girl."

He ran a finger along my slit, carefully spreading the lips and dipped into me.

"You are soaking wet, my little one."

I felt moisture trickle down my left thigh. Armand continued to run his fingers along my slot. Then he brought his hand up to my face and my moth opened on it's own to suck the juices off his fingers.

"Good girl."

When they were clean the hand disappeared. All the while his other hand was on my neck lightly holding me down. I heard an unmistakable zip, and then felt the head of his cock being dragged between my labia. I flinched and tried to straighten up, but he simply pressed harder on my neck.

Again he dragged his cock along my slot. I stopped resisting and rotated my hip to give him a better angle and he slid in. He was thicker than my ex-boyfriend, but he fit comfortably. God, it felt so wrong but at the same time ... sooo warm and nice. I was pinned on the desk by his hand on my neck and the meat in my hole. I felt stretched and full, but the rest of me was limp. He didn't move.

"Good girl. I'm going to fuck you now, Jessica. Relax and try not to make a sound."

He slowly pulled out until there was just the head lodged in me. Then without warning he rammed home. I wanted to squeal but heeded his instruction and exhaled loudly.

He withdrew slowly again and then, releasing his hold on my neck, he grabbed me with both hands at the hips and started to pound into me. Hard.

I could smell my arousal and squelched at each thrust. The edge of the desk bit into my thighs. At first my breasts stuck to the desktop but as the flame spread from my loins outward, sweat coated my skin and suddenly I was sliding each time he ploughed into me. My nipples became inflamed. He changed the angle of "attack" so that my sheath was massaged on all sides. I was slipping into that "fucked stupid" state. A puddle of drool had collected on the desktop at the edge of my mouth.

Armand slowed down and bent over me.

"I want you to cum Jessica. Cum for me NOW," he hissed in my ear and then started pounding even faster. I tipped over the edge before the fifth stroke and started shaking spasmodically. He kept pounding and then, as if there was another gear, I started to cum even harder. Then he slammed home and held himself rigid. I clenched my vaginal sheath and felt his cock twitching as he spewed deep into me.

Armand slowly softened in my folds and slipped out with a slurp. He pulled me up by the hair then pushed the top of my head to signal me to kneel. It was an awkward descent but he was able to pull my face onto his now softening member. My mouth opened of it's own accord and I started to clean him up with my tongue.

His cum thinned within me and started to run down my thigh.

"Well done Jessica. We should be getting back to the office now. Pull your clothes back on." He stuffed himself into his trousers and zipped himself up. He helped me to stand and freed up my arms. I bent down and pulled up my panties then my skirt. I could feel his cum draining into the crotch.

I looked into the mirror as I straightened up my bra and redid the buttons on my blouse. Not too bad. My face was flushed but my make-up was intact. I was sure I smelled of sex.

Without another word we were out the door and headed for the elevator.

"You please me, Jessica. You're extremely responsive - a Ferrari masquerading as a Buick."

I was totally out of it. Maybe it was the afterglow from the orgasm I had just experienced; maybe I was still trying to make sense out of what had just happened, but I actually beamed at the compliment.

::

Back at the office, I became a bit more clear-headed. My stunned surprise gave way to anger and I wrestled with the notion of filing a complaint with HR. Then my phone rang. It was Human Resources calling me down to their office.

When I got there and the head of HR herself ushered me into her office.

"Please sit."

I did as I was told.

"Mr. St. Pierre has asked that you be assigned to his group. He recently lost his assistant to a smaller firm and you are to pick up her tasks as quickly as possible. Any questions?"

I sat there stunned. My mouth opened, then closed. I wanted to scream, "THAT BASTARD JUST SEXUALLY ASSAULTED ME!" but she didn't notice or even look up from her screen.

"Excellent then. The new position comes with a modest increase in salary and a smallish office on the 11th floor. If you box up your files and personal effects, the cleaning staff will move them this evening. Mr. St. Pierre expects you in the office by 8:00 tomorrow morning."

She handed me a key and a document detailing my transfer, smiled for a nanosecond and nodded towards the door to signal the end of the conversation.

::

I returned to my cubicle two floors up. Sandy was in the elevator. I nodded vaguely as I entered.

"You look like you just got some bad news," she said, looking concerned.

I smiled wanly. "I've been transferred out of the intern pool."

Her face lit up, "Congratulations! I told you that you would escape the 'pit' before any of us. I'm so happy for you. Where are you going?"

"I've been assigned to Armand St. Pierre."

Her face clouded momentarily. "I've heard he's brilliant." She paused, "Maybe a bit of a jerk towards the women he works with, but you're made of tough stuff so knock him dead!"

The elevator stopped at our floor and spewed us into the cubicle farm. By the time I got to my desk, HR had issued an email announcing my changed status and heads were popping up to congratulate me.

::

I went home and showered, then cried, then had a bath, then drank some wine, then cried myself to sleep.

To be continued.

::

darkmaas
darkmaas
26 Followers
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samaramatissesamaramatisseover 6 years ago
Good start but needs polish

You have a descriptive, elegant way of writing and everything starts off quite well. There are some grammatical errors ("it's" when it should be "its", for example). The one thing that took me away from the elegance of what you started were the words like slit, slot, meat, hole and cum. Obviously, that's personal preference and you may have chosen them for a reason. But this woman seems to have a somewhat polished veneer, and her suitor most certainly does. Maybe others feel differently, but for me, when I read those cruder words contrasted with the way the piece started, it makes it hard for me to stay connected to the story. Just one person's opinion; good luck on the rest of the story.

AnonymousAnonymousover 6 years ago
name change

Great story! But is her name Jennifer or Jessica?

AnonymousAnonymousover 6 years ago
More

I look forward to chapter 2

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