tagNonConsent/ReluctanceI'll Do Anything, Sir

I'll Do Anything, Sir


"Miss Jones, I need you in my office, now," Mr. Proctor's voice barked through the intercom. His voice crackled.

Michelle pushed a button on her phone and replied, "yes, sir." He ended the call, the light on her phone flickering off. Michelle sat back in her seat, the scratchy fabric of the computer chair rubbing against her neck, making the skin between her blouse and the bottom of her bun itch. She stretched her legs under her desk, pointed her toes in her black stiletto heels and then relaxed.

She wondered what Derek had been so testy about lately. Attorney Derek Proctor was one of the best bosses she had ever worked for during her years as a secretary. He was wonderful at his job, smart and successful with a sharp tongue and a quick wit. He was also a kind and generous employer. Their small office, twelve people I all, respected the man. But for some reason these last few weeks, Derek had been unusually testy with Michelle, quick to anger whenever she asked a question or made a small mistake.

Michelle stood, teetering on her heels as she shimmied out from behind her cramped desk, piled high with red wells and letters. She smoothed her tight black skirt, adjusted the sleeves on her cream colored blouse and walked down the hallway to Derek's office.

She slipped in between the small crack he had left open. Papers were littered all over the room—it was a miracle the man could find anything in his office. "Close the door behind you," Derek's deep voice ordered. The back of his chair was facing her. It was a heavy, ornate red leather chair lined with bronze studs. Michelle could see the thick head of wavy brown hair just above the edge of the leather chair.

She obeyed, turning to push the door closed. She heard a click. The soundproof door would be locked from the outside. Emily gulped, her palms beginning to sweat. Mr. Proctor never closed the door unless he was in a very important meeting.

She shook on her shoes, wondering if this was it, if he was letting her go after the Jackson case screw up.

"Sit down, Michelle," he instructed. As she sat down in a small chair across from his desk, his own chair swiveled around so he was now facing her. His brown eyes glittered under the lights. His crisp gray suit molded perfectly to his well worked out body. His eyes scanned over Michelle, soaking in every delicious curve. Her red hair was in a perfectly tight bun, her clothes tight, professional, but a bit to immodest. Derek could see deep cleavage and her hips seemed to spill over the edge of the chair. She crossed her legs, a quick flash of her garter showing before her pulled down the hem of her skirt She wore tall, black stilettos, Christian Louboutins. Michelle was the only secretary he knew that had such a weakness for designer shoes.

"You wanted to see me, sir," Michelle said, leaning back in her chair.

Derek smiled. Oh, if only his little secretary knew... Derek could feel his cock beginning to harden just enough to annoy him. "Do you know why you're here, Miss Jones?" She shook her head, flashed of her tight bun peeking out from side-to-side. "The Jackson case, Michelle. Think about it."

He had her now. She flinched as if he had slapped her. Her face blanched, only small circled of pink blush colored her. Her skin had turned ghostly pale. "Sir, that was just an honest mistake. Really, I hadn't meant to" "You didn't mean to sign the Order to end the case in my name? You didn't mean to send that order to the insurance company so they could file it with the court? Because of your fuck up, Michelle, we now owe our client for a case we can't collect on because you signed my name to the wrong damned paper." Michelle shook like a scared kitten in her chair. A small tear slipped from the corner of her eye. Her knuckles were white as she held onto the chair, too afraid to move and brush away the tear.

Derek stood, towering over her as he stalked around his desk, stopping in front of her. He moved his hand down, brushing away her tear. She flinched. Derek seemed to fill the room and suck out all of the air. Michelle couldn't catch her breath. Her boss' eyes glittered, she could feel his hot gaze invading her space, making her itch in places she couldn't scratch. "I'm so sorry, sir," she whimpered.

"I'm sorry too, Michelle. I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go for this," his lips flattened in a straight line, his eyes dancing wildly.

"No," Michelle whispered, shaking her head furiously, "No, please Derek, Mr. Proctor, sir, I can't. I need this job. I have to pay my rent. I have nowhere else to go," she murmured.

"Miss Jones," Derek sighed in defeat.

"Please!" she almost yelled.

Derek sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had her right where he wanted her, but he had to play cool. No smiling. "Look, I have to be in court in ten minutes. I won't be back until late, but stay and we'll talk. I'll see what I can do. Fuck," he muttered, turning back to his desk. "You can leave my office now, Michelle. I'll be back from court around five thirty."

Michelle nodded and left. She kept her head hung low as she strutted back to her desk, trying not to slouch. She should have seen this coming. She wondered if she could come up with a way for her to stay. Maybe he would simply dock her pay, or cut back her hours, or maybe volunteer to file on the weekends. She sighed.

It was two thirty. She had to find some way to keep her mind off her horrible situation for another three hours. She began rummaging through her filing, organizing, typing, re-filing. Time dragged as four thirty came, then one-by-one, the office left for the day.

"You coming, Michelle?" asked Michael, one of the junior associates at the firm. The attractive blonde was dressed in an impeccably crisp blue suit, his smile warm and inviting. Michael had asked Michelle on a date three times. Each time was met with a clichéd "I don't date coworkers," brush off. Maybe after tonight, Michelle wouldn't have that excuse. The thought left her feeling nauseous.

"No, I have some paperwork to file before I leave." She stood up and smoothed down her tight pencil skirt.

Michael's eyes followed the path her hands made. "Right, well, have a good weekend then," he said. He walked down the hallway and Michelle heard the office door click closed behind him. She was alone, and it was five twenty.

Michelle rummaged through the files, blindly stuffing papers into manila folders, wondering what she was going to do if she was let go. She had worked as a waitress, maybe she could work at a diner until something more promising came along? She had good recommendations from her old bosses. She should be able to keep her head afloat and pay for her rent if she found a roommate.

Michelle was beginning to feel better when the office door opened. Derek turned the corner and walked into his office. He left the door open. Michelle's stomach began to flutter. She inhaled a long, deep breath and began shaking in her heels. She walked.

She tapped on the doorframe, watching as Derek shrugged out of his coat, his back towards her. He was watching the city grow dark as the sun set behind city hall. His tall frame was perfectly outlined by his dapper black suit, cut to show off every sharp edge. "Close the door, Miss Jones."

Michelle entered and shut the door firmly behind her. Michelle shifted her weight from one foot to the other and she waited in silence. Derek finally turned to face her. His smile twitched into a smirk. "How badly do you need this job, Michelle?"

"You know I need this job, sir," she said, still quaking in her shoes.

"And what will you do to keep this job?"

Michelle's mouth dropped. This was beginning to sound like the beginning of a poorly scripted porno. But she knew lying and doing the flirty "I'll do anything for you" crack was not going to get her anywhere. She straightened her back. "I'll work weekends. I'll work overtime. I'll even take a pay cut if necessary, Mr. Proctor."

Derek stepped away from his desk and closed the gap between him and his secretary. She was trembling, but trying to be proud. Her red lips were pursed, her mascara was smudged from crying earlier, and she couldn't seem to look away from him as he began slowly circling her. He wanted her to beg. "Well, is that so? And how do I know you won't slack off on the weekends? Or while you're alone in the office, working overtime? You're not very convincing, Michelle. One last chance. What will you do to keep your job?"

Michelle took a long, deep breath. So that's what he wanted? He wanted her to be some porn star bimbo who would say she'd do "anything" to keep her job. "Fuck you," she spat and turned.

Derek grabbed her bun and yanked her head back, her whole body following. She stumbled in her shoes, nearly falling. A sharp pain pulled on the back of her head. She yelped as his large hands dug into her shoulders, dragging her away from the door and behind his desk. "You're hurting me. Get off of me you fucking asshole," she swore.

"You want this job? Well you'll have to work for it." Derek lifted the small secretary until her legs were flailing and dropped her gracelessly to the floor, her head smacking into the wall. She was sprawled under him, her legs sticking out under his desk. Her skirt had hiked up and he could see the lacy edge of her black stockings. His cock stiffened more.

He seized the few seconds he had and grabbed her shoulders, hoisting her to her knees. He hurriedly yanked off his tie and looped them around her wrists, tying her hands behind her back. The scratchy carpet felt rough on her knees. His hands felt too big for her to escape. He was everywhere. "No, stop," she begged. She tugged and pulled on the tie, but it only seemed to tighten further.

Derek unzipped his pants, shoving them and his boxers to his knees, his rock hard cock springing free in front of Michelle. Her eyes widened. She scrambled backward and hit the wall. She was cornered between a wall, a desk, and his thick cock. "No, please," she shook her head. He grabbed her bun and pulled, freeing her hair. She cried out in pain. He grabbed her hair and rammed his cock into her warm, wet mouth before she could close it. Michelle gasped for air, gagging on him. "No," she screamed with his cock down her throat.

He felt her teeth graze him. "You even think about it bitch and you won't make it out of here," he promised. Michelle whimpered. He smiled. "Good girl,"

Derek invaded her mouth, his salty pre-cum coating the back of Michelle's throat, making her gag harder. His hands tugged and pulled on her hair, keeping her face still as he humped her lips, the heavy head of his cock stretching her unwilling throat. She tried to breathe, her tongue moving to try and make room.

She began crying, steady stream of tears running down her face. She wanted to leave. She never wanted this to happen. She never thought Derek—respectable, hardworking attorney, Derek Proctor—was capable of raping his secretary. She wanted to run. She wanted someone to come back to the office and discover them.

He slid his cock from her lips and bent down, pulling her up by her shoulders. "No, Derek, please. This isn't you. Please, don't do this to me."

"Oh, this is me," he said. He pushed her until she sat on the edge of his large wooden desk. His hands tugged apart her blouse, buttons scattering around his office. He shoved the shirt down her arms. Her large breasts nearly spilled from her black lace bra, her hard nipples puckering like pebbles under the skimpy fabric.

"You think you can walk around in tight shirts and not let me play with these?" His hand reached out and cupped her firm breasts. Michelle moaned. Derek froze. "So you like that, do you?" he asked. "No," Michelle pleaded, "No, please don't." As his hands explored, Michelle realized how hot and wet the junction between her thighs felt. Her pussy ached and her clit tingled. Was she really enjoying this? What was wrong with her?

Derek stepped back and opened a drawer. He reached in and withdrew a long pair of scissors. Michelle's eyes widened. "Get away from me. What the fuck are you doing with those? No, stop," she screamed as he leaned over and snipped the straps of her bra. He dropped the scissors back in the drawer before leaning towards her. His arms wrapped around her small waist and unclasped her bra, tossing it across the room. Her big breasts sprung free, two large, perky globes tipped with perfect pink nipples.

Derek leaned down and suck on a little nub. Michelle shrieked and jumped, almost falling. "Oh, so you like that, do you slut?" Derek asked, slowly licking the other tit.

"No, please stop, please, sir, stop," Michelle begged, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Stop? But it feels so good, doesn't it? You're so sensitive," he said

"Stop it!"

"You know my tongue feels so warm against these tits," he said before dipping his head to suck and nibble on one tit, his hand reaching up to cup her other breast and squeeze hard.

"Ah, God," Michelle gasped.

"Now we're getting somewhere. You like this, don't you, you little whore."

"I.. I..." Michelle gasped, her eyes closed and head thrown back, pushing her breasts closer to his hungry mouth. Sparks of pleasure were bursting behind her breasts, sending shivers throughout the rest of her body. She was almost on the edge. She was excited. She was scared. She had never been so turned on in her life. She squirmed on the desk as Derek kept up his assault on her breasts.

He stopped suddenly, pulling his head and lowering his hands. He grabbed her waist and dragged her to her feet. On shaking legs, Michelle stood and said nothing while Derek unzipped her skirt and slid it down her legs.

He took the scissors again and snipped the sides of her panties, pulling the useless black lace aside and tossing the scrap of fabric on top of her destroyed bra. He kept the stockings and garter belt on her. They framed her long, slender legs perfectly. He pushed her on the desk, laying her down on her back. Michelle as still in a daze when she screamed, his tongue licking her pussy.

"Fuck!" she screamed.

Derek's tongue slid from the tip of her clit to her entrance, the tip of his tongue poking, trying to slide in her hole. She was so tight. She was wet too, dripping on his face, his beard damp and scratching the skin on her thighs. Her legs hung wide, letting him taste and explore, forcing his tongue between her legs, tasting every inch of her delicious pussy.

He slid his middle finger deep inside her, loosening her before he fucked her. His tongue teased the top of her clit where she screamed loudest. His fingers slid in and out, fucking her while he teased her with his tongue. He knew she wouldn't last much longer. He slid in another finger and Michelle came apart. "Yes, oh fuck yes, Derek. Oh my God!" Michelle moaned, screaming his name as she came on his fingers. As she calmed down, he pulled his fingers out slowly, letting her feel him. "So that's a yes? You want me to fuck you?"

"What. Oh, um no," Michelle shook her head, trying to close her legs. Derek grabbed her knees and ripped her legs open, her wet pussy shining at him, a damp invitation. "No, don't," she said, trying to pull herself higher up the desk.

Derek held under her legs and pulled her back down, lifting her legs high and stepping between them. "No, don't. That's rape, Stop. Fucking stop!" she yelled as the head of his rock hard cock nudged her tight entrance.

"You said yes. That's not fucking rape you slut. You're so fucking wet and you came so fucking hard. I can't wait to feel you cum on my cock," He slid into Michelle as she screamed and begged him to stop. She squeezed him like a virgin, his cock surrounded by a tight, damp warmth that sent shivers through his balls and spine. His little secretary felt so good.

"Oh yeah, that's it you little whore. Take it. Fuck I've wanted to screw you on this desk for the longest time." His hips pumped like piston into her, his hands holding her hips close to him. He watched her breasts bounce, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Her pussy tightened around his cock.

He leaned over her and sucked on one of her perfect tits. He fucked her harder as he sucked. "Yes, yes, oh fuck yes! Just like that! Oh, yes sir, fuck your secretary!" Michelle screamed when she came, her pussy clamping down hard on his cock.

Derek swore, his own orgasm taking him by force and surprise. His little secretary felt better than he had ever imagined. She squeezed him perfectly, her silky smooth stocking covered legs wrapping around his hips, her heels digging into his ass as he pumped her pussy full of cum. He leaned over her, breathing heavy as he emptied his load deep into her womb. He wondered if she was on the pill. He hoped she wasn't. It was hotter that way.

"So, about that job?" she breathed under him.

"I think we can come to an arrangement. A pay cut might not be necessary, but no reason you can't work with me on Saturdays from now on," he smirked.

She smiled a sexy smile as she squeezed his cock with her pussy. "Of course, sir. I'll do anything to keep my job."

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