He Said He was Going to Rape Me

Way back in 1962, when I was just 23 years old, I worked as a secretary at a big New York advertising agency. Think Mad Men, only this wasn't TV.

My mother thought it was a good idea for me to move away from our farm town because she figured I'd meet a rich, well-mannered husband. Little did she know, the savages I'd have to put up with over there were even worse than the ones back home.

"Those city boys will be so cultured!" she'd fawn, but that couldn't have been further from the truth.

What I quickly learned was that those "city boys" were actually just like the red-blooded farmers I'd grown up with: Crass, rude and sexist, only these ones were also wealthy and arrogant. No matter where you go you can find boarish men who treat women like trash, and my shiny office on Madison Ave was a fucking pigsty.

From the moment I walked in I knew the job wasn't going to be easy. And no, I don't mean the labor, because of course they only gave me "women's work". I mean the people. More specifically, the men in upper management.

The entire executive team was made up of silver-spooned Yalies who used their connections and "charm" to skip their way up the corporate ladder. Now the leaders of one of the top ad firms, they were untouchable, at least by me, a lowly secretary.

Since it was my first day, I hadn't yet gotten used to the barrage of "compliments" that would later be hurled at me daily. And so, when I got to the desk out front of my new boss's office, I was shocked to hear someone call out from afar, "well damn! Who's that pretty thing!"

My whole body went red as I realized I was the "pretty thing". I'd already gotten accustomed to catcalls on the streets of Manhattan but didn't expect to hear them in an office!

When I looked up I saw a big man in a fancy suit gawking at me. He was in the middle of a conversation with a group of male colleagues but told them he'd be right back, then started swaggering towards me. I shivered awkwardly while waiting for who appeared to be a higher up, and remained docile while he pawed my small hand.

"Mmmm, hello there, pretty girl," he said thickly, putting zero effort into masking his desire.

"Ummm.... Hi...." I replied, looking up at him.

The man was enormous--not fat, just big--and I learned later that most of the execs were on the Yale football team. That fit the profile because all the players I'd ever met were brash and boisterous, not to mention more than a little pervy.

"This must be your first day," he greeted, not to me but to my breasts, which were well-covered under my sweater, by the way. But that's never mattered to men, has it? In fact, one of my friends once told me he loves "big tits under a tight sweater," and that's the day I realized there is no winning.

"Y-yes it is...."

I always hated being under a man's penetrative gaze, knowing they're fantasizing about undressing and fucking me, and couldn't help but stutter.

"Don't be nervous," the man soothed, then stepped forward to put his arm around my lower back.

I squirmed and tried to move away but he held me in place.

"I'm Benjamin Baxter, but you can call me Mr. Baxter or Sir. And who might you be, pretty girl?"

"I-I-I'm... M-my name's Susanne," I sputtered even more frightfully than before upon realizing this was THE Mr. Baxter, as in "Baxter, Ferris & Knight," my newest employer!

"Ah, Susie. A cute name for a cute girl!"

He lifted his hand off my waist and brought it back down with a firm spank right on my perky butt! I couldn't believe it and gasped loudly.

"Alright, Susie Q, I'll see you around. Got some big business to attend to. I'll leave you with a tip since it's your first day: your boss is expecting coffee on his desk when he walks in at 9:15. Be a good girl and go make him a cup, and since I helped you out why don't you make me one too! My office is on the second floor, you can drop it off there."

"O-okay..."

"Great!" He smacked my butt again before walking away, leaving me utterly paralyzed. When he returned to his friends I heard him say, "damn, wish she was my secretary!" and they all hooted in agreement.

The crowd looked over at me after a few whispers and I made eye contact with Mr. Baxter. He smiled broadly then shooed me along like I was his puppy dog. Remembering I relied on this man's approval for my paycheck, I begrudgingly went to the kitchen to make his coffee. While it brewed, one of the other girls came in and stood next to me.

"Sorry about them...." she started with a sympathetic smile. "But you know how those boys can be."

I was a bit surprised she just brushed off their behavior and thought I would've gotten more camaraderie from my fellow woman. I also found it funny how she called them boys even though they were much older than us and in charge of our careers. To her credit though, their antics were fresh off the schoolyard.

"Are they always like that...?" I asked cautiously, not wanting to seem unfit for the job.

"They're all bad," she cackled with a heavy Brooklyn accent. "But Baxter's the worst! Seriously though, it's not like it's better anywhere else, and at least Baxter's handsome. My last boss was an ugly bastard. Stuck his hand down my bra and when I slapped him I got fired!"

"Oh... Umm... I'm so sorry."

"Oh it's alright. I like it here more anyways. Better pay and benefits for my kid. If you want my advice, just keep your head down and remember who signs your paycheck. You'll be okay."

It was pretty crushing to know the other women had accepted the harassment, but what else could they do? We all had bills to pay, mouths to feed, and we were so damned replaceable. This was evidenced by the carousel of ingenues who came in with a smile and left a month later with a newfound hatred of men. But I was in no position to quit, having barely secured this job after dozens of failed interviews. I now realized it's likely I was picked solely on my looks, but with rent due I had to stick it out.

I felt no more at ease after speaking with my coworker and was afraid of spilling the coffee as I shuddered upstairs to Mr. Baxter's office. He was on the phone when I got in and directed me to stand next to him.

"We're gonna get you the biggest fuckin' billboard in Times Square," he was promising a potential buyer, then pointed at his desk for me to place the mug.

I was about to walk away but he lifted his hand, gesturing me to stay put. Still holding my boss's beverage, I stood there waiting for over five minutes as he bantered far more about golf and bars than he brokered deals. He turned his chair to me and leaned back, leering as I cowered like an awkward baby deer. I didn't know where to look, too nervous to make eye contact, but also feeling so pathetic when peering down.

Eventually I'd scanned every surface of the office, including Mr. Baxter himself. He wore the shiniest black shoes I'd ever seen, reflective enough to see my own slim legs and slender calves in. His pinstripe suit looked more expensive than my entire wardrobe, with his silk tie alone likely costing a months' rent. His equally flashy watch was attached to big hands that had clearly played sports, as had his sturdy body, although at 42 it had seen better days. Now at eye level as he sat, I could more clearly make out his bearded face and conceded that yes, he was rather handsome.

"You like what you see?" he asked suddenly. Apparently I hadn't noticed he'd hung up the phone.

"Oh, sorry! I was just waiting to see what you needed me for...."

"Oh nothing, I just wanted something pretty to look at during my call. And pretty you are, sweetheart, I'll have to keep you in here more often!"

I inhaled sharply, experiencing a degree of humiliation prior unknown. It was so profoundly demeaning to be viewed as a literal object, I couldn't believe it!

"By the way, you should get your boss another cup. That one's probably cold by now."

"Y-yes, sir..........." I stuttered shamefully, then scurried out before he could see me cry.

While shedding a few tears in the bathroom, I thought about all the people back home who had doubted me. They said the city would eat me alive, that I'd come running home single and broke. My dad thought I should've already been married with a kid and hated when I left, but he'd never believed in me anyway. This was my one chance to prove them all wrong and I couldn't let some shitty men ruin it.

While fixing my mascara in the mirror, another woman offered me her advice.

"You'll get used to it."

The bright moment of my morning was meeting my boss. Unlike Mr. Baxter, Mr. Cunningham seemed like a normal, no-nonsense guy. Of course I couldn't yet be sure, but the fact that he didn't hit on me was a good start. Once I'd learned his schedule and the phone system, he shooed me away to take calls and do whatever it is men do in their large offices.

As the days progressed, I caught on quickly to the aspects of my job that required actual work. But it was on the socializing side of things where I suffered.

We worked at a huge office with tons of rich old men and attractive young women. It was very common for secretaries and typists to run off with their bosses, or at the very least meet up in secret. I constantly saw women leaving offices with a lip swipe, couples going out for "meals" (read: dates), or just plain sneaking off during a company dinner! I saw so much so quickly that it was hard to keep up. There was always new gossip, new drama, but I just wanted to do my job. And then, of course, there was Mr. Baxter who made my life infinitely more difficult.

If he wasn't finding a way to make me do chores, he was walking over to my desk to harass me in-person. I felt like the object of some schoolboy crush, though it was far less charming in a professional environment by a man 20 years my senior. But of all of his invasive tactics, it was the constant touching that really made me squirm.

"Hello, sweetie," he greeted unannounced from behind, his big hands gripping my shoulders.

"Ah!" I jumped up at my desk. "Mr. Baxter! W-what do you need?"

"Oh nothing. You know I just like coming here to look at you."

I blushed as I always did when he said that. It was flattering, of course, but I also hated it! Why couldn't he just leave me alone!

"How long have you been in the city now, doll?"

"J-just three weeks.... Ooooo...."

He was massaging my shoulders and when one of his hands moved up to my neck I let out a breathy sigh.

"Have you found a boyfriend yet," he asked flirtatiously, and I tightened. "Relax...." he whispered with a sensual knead. "So.... have you?"

"N-no....!" I exhaled more audibly than I would've liked. His hands were really strong!

"Hmmm... Three weeks and no boyfriend. You're what, 19?"

"23, sir."

"23! 23 and no boyfriend! That can't be! We oughtta change that."

I conceded a laugh and said, "you sound like my father."

"Well he's right! A pretty girl like you isn't meant to be single. Hell, you shouldn't even be in this office! Girl like you should be at home, barefoot and pregnant. That's how I'd have you at least."

l gulped uncomfortably at his perverted admission and hoped he'd change the subject.

"But I'm too old for you, little girl, ha! Nearly twice your age! I could be your Daddy." He gripped my neck tighter. "I know a few boys your age though, real good guys. Yalies! I can set you up with one of them if you'd like."

"Umm... I think I'm okay, thank you."

"You sure? Such a waste to see a girl like you without a man. You're far too cute to be going untouched."

The way he said "going untouched" made my skin crawl. His insinuation that men were entitled to my body because it was attractive, and that my entire worth was based on whether or not one was fucking me made me want to vomit! In a hyperventilating panic, I told Mr. Baxter I had work to do.

"Alright, Suz. Just let me know if you want me to set you up. I know how you girls are. Always on the hunt for a husband."

He rubbed my back a few more times then walked away whistling, likely having no idea he'd creeped me HELL out. Or maybe he did and just didn't care. Or worse, he enjoyed it.....

Out of all the bad shit Mr. Baxter did in the first two months, it was something he said during an office party that got me closest to quitting. We'd all been drinking, some more than others, when he came over and cornered me in the kitchen. After touching me all day at work he'd gotten progressively handsier during the evening, and now he was shooting his shot.

"Soooo.... How's that boyfriend hunt of yours going?" he asked with a slur and slight hiccup.

"Same as before......." I answered bashfully, basically sober and dreading his inebriated antics.

"Still single! Noooo, that can't be! You're waayyy too pretty!"

"Yup... Still single...."

"Well then you'll have to let me take you on a date! We can go to dinner this weekend, it'll be fun. You know, my wife and I aren't seeing each other anymore."

Shocking.....

"I don't think that would be appropriate...."

"Fuck appropriate! Who cares! I want you, baby!"

"Mr. Baxter, please...."

He was getting loud and I didn't want people to see.

"What! What do you want me to say? You're driving me fucking crazy here, you know that!"

"Mr. Baxter, I'm sorry. I-I'm not trying to do any-"

"Don't play coy with me, baby doll, you know what you do. Showing off your sweet little body... Making me-"

"Mr. Baxter! I'm not sure what you think I'm doing but I promise-"

"I swear to god, little girl, if you keep up these games one of these days I'm just gonna have to rape you!"

My jaw was on the floor as I repeated what he'd said in my head, too shocked to believe it.

"I swear, baby," he continued. "It's like you're fuckin' asking for it. Ever since I saw your tight body I've wanted you bent over my desk. To be inside you, make you mine. But you've just been soooo difficult! Teasing me every day. Come on, sweetheart! Can't you see how bad I want you?"

I was now in fight for flight mode and tried to sprint away but his huge body had me blocked on all sides.

"Don't be scared, I won't do it now. Not unless you make me."

His big hands were rubbing down my smooth arms, pulling me into his hairy, unbuttoned chest. I tried to squirm away, terrified of his threat, but he was so strong!

"MMM!!!" he huffed, rubbing around my plump ass, molesting me.

I looked up at him in horror and disbelief, still so appalled by his statement. But all I got back was a dirty, drunken smile before Mr. Baxter launched his hairy face at mine.

"MmmMmMm!!!! MmMnn!!!!!" I squealed, trying to escape the onslaught of his prickly mouth.

But he wouldn't let me go! Once his lips locked on he used the suction to send his tongue in to strangle mine. I tried desperately to flee but he held me by my butt while making out for as long as he pleased. When he finished he pulled his face off and grinned before lifting my skirt to feel even higher up the backs of my legs.

"Don't make me wait too long," he threatened, then finally let me go.

In a state of shock, I stumbled to the bathroom and ran into a stall. When I sat down my ears were ringing. Everything felt like a dream. Did he actually just kiss me?? And wait a minute, what the fuck!! Did he really just say that?!?! That he's going to.... to rape me!!!

I almost threw up right there. What the hell was wrong with him! To be so coarse and blunt, to have no shame! I understand that a lot of guys think about sleeping with women, but he specifically said rape! How vivid and cruel!

I wanted to get pissed and raise a shitstorm, take all these fuckers down, but I knew better than to go up against Mr. Baxter. Friendly reminder it's not my name on the building; I'd never win that fight. I guess I could always quit, but would I find another job?

While thinking about my predicament, I walked out and was met by one of my older, married coworkers.

"I saw you and Mr. Baxter smooching over there," she said with a condescending smirk and I blushed hotly.

"He forced me!" I shot back defensively, but she rolled her eyes.

"I know how you new girls are. You're all the same. Come in, find a man and leave."

"N-no but... but! He said! He said he was gonna rape me!!"

"I know, honey, I know. They're all pigs."

"No, you don't understand! He really said that! That he's going to rape me!"

"What! Really? Used those exact words?"

"Yes!"

"Wow. I knew Mr. Baxter was a horndog but-"

"He's not a 'horndog', he's a rapist!"

"If you say so.... Either way you better get used to it. You saw how many girls were in line at your interview. I heard the next firm's twice as long!"

She finished washing her hands and left me alone with my reflection.

The following Monday I prayed Mr. Baxter would finally leave me alone. I thought maybe he would come to his senses and realize he'd said something terrible. That he'd avoid me now and I'd actually get to do my job. I should've known better though, that men like Mr. Baxter always win.

While organizing tea boxes in the kitchen, I felt a large pair of hands wrap around my slim waist. I didn't need to look down and see the thick, hairy forearms to know it was him.

"God, Susie, you're killin' me in this outfit."

He was leaning over to rest his grizzled chin on my shoulder, effectively trapping me.

"Don't you remember what I said, baby? You keep wearing this stuff and I'm gonna have to rape you."

Jesus! He said it again! He fucking said it again! Petrified, I whimpered futilely while his warm palms explored new areas. First down my stomach and under my skirt, then right up my smooth inner thighs.

"Hnnggg... Hnnggg!"

"Oh you're just asking for it, baby."

He fondled my bare legs, eliciting uncomfortable tingles from my nether region. I felt terribly anxious but also strangely excited being held tightly in Mr. Baxter's big arms. Finally I'd had enough though and bursted, "please!"

"Relax, honey bun," he soothed. "I'm not doing anything you don't like."

He leaned over even further and wrapped his hands under my inner thighs at the gap. Then he lifted me up from the crotch, feeling my panties in the process.

"Unnhhh!" I yelped.

Mr. Baxter released a pent-up exhale then whispered, "told you you liked it," before walking away with a smile.

I wasn't sure what he meant since I clearly hated him, but once I got in the bathroom I understood....

"No...." I said aloud. "No... Nooo!"

When I saw the state of my panties, a wave of humiliation washed over me. While stuck in his arms, it was hard to decipher my physical reaction. I was panicked and thought I felt adrenaline, but apparently it was something else....

I knew there was intense heat coming from my crotch, but I thought I was sweating all over! Playing it back, I realized those butterflies in my stomach were really lower down and those leg jerks were mini spasms. All this action served to drench my pink panties, which Mr. Baxter had felt up! He rubbed against every moist inch of my groin when he lifted me, and I prayed his crisp dress shirt wouldn't be stained from my sopping lips! He'd surely make me launder it!

Whimpering in the stall, I was distraught knowing he thought I liked it. But how could I say I didn't! I mean christ, my clit was still throbbing! Pulsating to the terrifying memory of being trapped by my superior. Utterly stuck in his strong arms with nowhere to go.....

"Hunnnnhhh...!" I whined in a high pitch as another surge of fluid flowed out.

My cunt lips glided frictionlessly while I put on a fresh pair of panties, but these were quickly soaked too as my slippery lips slid together the whole way back to my desk.

For the rest of the day I was stuck in a loop of being stressed about getting wet, then getting wetter as I continued to think about it. I tried to come up with an excuse for my reaction and settled on the fact that the only other man who'd touched me was my old boyfriend. He died in an unfortunate farming accident and I hadn't so much as kissed a boy since. Now I had one squeezing my ass, and not just any but a rich and powerful one! And, like the other secretary said, handsome..... So maybe it's not my fault, maybe it's just natural.....