Mia

Hi there. My name is Mia and I'm dropdead gorgeous. There's no point in beating about the bush here. I'm a ten. I cause quite a stir in any environment where men are present. Like at work for example. Lots of men there. I'm a trainee at a large company and all the guys in my department fancy me like crazy. They are forever ogling! They can't help themselves. I know that every single one of them would love to fuck me. They dream of fucking me. But they can dream on because I am not available. I have a dishy boyfriend a few years older than me who is extremely well endowed and spoils me rotten in bed. He's filthy rich too, if you must know. We live together in a fabulous apartment in the very best part of town. So I am OK thanks very much. Girls like me are always OK, aren't they? Girls like me want for nothing.

I have a whale of a time at work. It's great to be a pretty girl surrounded by men. I love it. Perhaps it's to do with me being half Italian. We latin girls know what men are like and we wouldn't wish it any other way. Least if we're pretty we wouldn't. We relish the attention. Well I do anyway! I know perfectly well what a serious distraction I am to my male colleagues and I play up to it quite shamelessly. The way I put myself together for the office is calculated to draw the male gaze. I take plenty of time over it, much to my boyfriend's amusement. He knows the reason why and it doesn't bother him at all. Mark says he likes the idea of all these guys lusting after what only he is permitted to enjoy. I know this is true because when we're in bed and I giggle and tell him what a terrible pricktease I've been at the office that day, Mark laughs and his big cock immediately goes nice and hard. It really gets him going and makes him want to fuck my brains out. Which is lovely for me!

So, yeah, I do work on my look. My hair is naturally dark and lustrous and I have it carefully (carelessly) tousled. I don't need to wear makeup but I choose to because it just emphasizes my sexiness all the more. My big brown flashing eyes are highlighted to intensify their sultry drama. My full pouting lips are painted crimson to match my long and exquisitely manicured nails. My pedicure is equally flawless. Because a pretty girl mustn't forget her feet. Men certainly don't. The finishing touch before I leave home is a dab of perfume to my neck and behind the ears. I use an ultra seductive scent which on a girl as attractive as me is guaranteed to make men think of the bedroom. Or more precisely, of me in the bedroom! My outfits are designed to have a similar effect. Because, OK, I will admit it, the way I dress for work is a teeny bit provocative. You might even say it's a little unprofessional. But screw that. I want the men at the office to be imagining me naked when they see me.

I spend a fortune on clothes. Or my boyfriend does rather. Mark loves to indulge me. Which is great because I love to be indulged! I have superb legs (smooth, tanned, shapely) and therefore always wear skirts to the office, slinky designer skirts which fit me like a glove and end well above the knee. I teem with heels, sometimes kitten, sometimes killer stilettos, sometimes 'casual sexy' open toe sandals, and it will be either bare legs or the sheerest of tights. Never stockings since I don't care to be tacky. Leave that to all those older women who try too hard. Meow!

If it's a bare legs day I make sure they are beautifully moisturized for maximum impact. I occasionally let Mark do this for me in the morning as a special treat. It's a treat for me too because after he's done my legs we'll both be turned on and he usually extends his 'duties' to another part of my anatomy, namely my pussy, which receives the full service courtesy of his delightfully skilful tongue. It's such a luxurious way to start the day! Especially since I've probably been nicely fucked already before we got out of bed. Yeah, it's tough being me, lol.

My tops do not disappoint either. I go for classy but artfully revealing. The sort of items which leave little doubt as to the size (large!) and shape (ideal) of the breasts of the girl wearing them. If it's a blouse it will be of gossamer fine silk and I will have one too many buttons undone. Otherwise it will be delicate and extremely feminine, cut to show plenty of flesh. Nothing tarty but sufficient to inflame and tantalize the male of the species. I wear a bra, of course, but my bras are little lacy numbers which are there to accentuate not hide.

The impact is pretty devastating on the men who work with me. They try to retain their composure, poor things, but they really can't. All they can think about is how fucking hot I am. It drives them mad me floating around all day looking like a wet dream. They find it hard to do anything except letch at me. I love how they stare with such wistful longing as I sashay around the open plan, ass swaying, hips wiggling, the unattainable object of desire. It amuses me how easy it is to get them worked up. I sit at my desk, legs crossed, hem riding high, pleasantly conscious that every male in the vicinity is craning to get a better view. It gives me a sadistic buzz to imagine all the imprisoned, frustrated dicks getting hard for me as their owners struggle to concentrate on what they are meant to be doing.

I have tremendous fun winding the guys up. When I'm at my desk I tease the ones close to me with my lovely legs. I keep slowly crossing and recrossing them, skirt going a teeny bit higher each time, putting a little more mouth-watering thigh on display for their lusty gaze. I will often stretch in my seat, arms above and behind my head, so that my fabulous tits jut out and vie for attention with my stunning legs. If I'm feeling particularly naughty I might dangle a shoe on the edge of my toes. Or I might casually scratch an imaginary itch up under the edge of my skirt. Stuff like that which I know drives men wild. I love that I am able do this to the men at the office and there's not a damn thing they can do about it - apart from suffer!

Sometimes I catch a guy's eye as he's admiring me. If he's one of the good looking ones I will send him an insinuating little smile. Make it clear that I know exactly what he's doing and that it's absolutely fine by me. If it's one of the less attractive, geeky types I will probably gaze coolly at him and smirk, so that he gets sheepish and looks away. Or I might decide to embarrass the poor guy by calling out across the room that I'd like him to stop fucking letching at me. Cue loud eruption of general sniggering and catcalls at the expense of the suitably mortified offender. I have a definite cruel streak and so I quite enjoy doing that. But it just depends on my mood.

Guys will come over to flirt with me, least the braver ones will, and I encourage this. I flirt back, lead the guy on, allow him to make a dribbling idiot of himself. Often it's more than one at a time. It's not unusual for there to be a cluster of admirers around my desk, all competing for my favour and intent on snatching glimpses at my generously exposed thighs or down my gaping top. I pretend not to notice the perving because I like them doing it. I imagine them as hungry salivating dogs and my flaunted assets as the juicy bone being held maddeningly just out of reach. I love the idea of that. Although it is hardly my fault, is it? I can't help having great legs and fantastic tits. And I can't help being unavailable. So if guys want to upset themselves foaming over what they know they can never have, who am I to stop them?

It's mainly men in my department but there are other women. One of these, Janice, has the desk next to me. She's my age, also a trainee, but apart from this we have virtually nothing in common. Certainly as far as looks go we haven't. Janice is definitely not a ten. Overweight, plain, bad skin, mediocre hair, oh dear. And because of where she sits the poor thing has a box seat for all the noisy flirting and fooling around that goes on with me and guys. It's like I was placed there just to make her feel terrible. The opposite for me of course - she makes me look even more appealing! I sit there smiling prettily, basking in the adoration like a goddess as the men swarm around me like bees to a honeypot, meanwhile Janice is about a metre way, ruthlessly ignored, stewing in silence. She stares furiously at her screen, tries to pretend it's not happening, but I'm sure that she loathes every minute of it, lol.

I take pleasure in my effortless superiority over this poor girl and I can't resist rubbing her nose in it. For example, I have noticed that it makes Janice miserable to discuss topics such as men, social life, men, clothes, men, anything to do with physical appearance, and of course men - so when I deign to chat with her this is what I insist on talking about. I adopt a superior and patronizing tone when we interact and it is obvious from this plus the sly gloat in my eye and my sardonic expression that I am glorying in making fun of this unfortunate creature, but she is strangely powerless to stop me. And there is no escape for her, being trapped right next to her tormentress all day every day. I'm like the cat with a captive mouse!

I chatter on about fashion and beauty. Where I like to shop. This great new lipstick I've discovered. My extensive shoe collection. I talk relentlessly about my boyfriend, how handsome and hunky he is. I show her pictures of Mark and I tell her in remorseless detail about all the exciting things we get up to. I complain to her about constantly getting bugged by the men at the office, how I can never get any fucking work done because of guys hanging around and trying to chat me up, or if they're not doing that, forever looking over and perving on me. How come it's always me, I ask her plaintively. How come she never gets bothered? - I'm such a bitch!

She hates these 'conversations'. When she talks to me her voice is small and close to cracking. She would rather remain silent but I force her to speak by demanding her opinion on various things. Is my skirt too short today? What does Janice think? Is it too much leg for the office? Would she ever wear something like this? I have a 'hot date' with Mark, can she recommend any cool clubs? Is that creep Gary letching at me again? Could Janice take a quick look and let me know? I don't want to do it myself because it might give him ideas. Jamie is still pestering to buy me a drink after work. Any advice as to how I can handle this? OK, I know he's not bad looking but I have a boyfriend. Hey, why doesn't Janice ask Jamie out? Surely she fancies him! Rob wants to take me to lunch but I'm not sure I ought to, him being Head of Department and me just a junior trainee. Would it look a bit strange? What does Janice think? Would she go to lunch with Rob if he invited her? Just hypothetically of course.

Poor Janice. I really am mean to her. We're supposedly at the same level, workwise, but I treat her as a lowly subordinate. I boss her about something rotten. I make her run around the office doing errands for me. I have the hapless girl at my beck and call like she's a servant! Janice, I need a caffeine fix, can you get me a coffee? Great. Quick as you can, sweetie, yeah? I'm out of staples, Janice, how about you go and find some? Janice sweetie, please go and tell Jamie that Mia would like to talk to him. Mmm, right now if you don't mind. It's quite urgent. Oh fuck, Janice, I've got a hole in these tights. Look, I'm really busy, so would you be an angel and pop out and buy me a pair? Here, I'll give you the money. Don't forget the change, though, will you? Oh Janice, I have this big meeting in a couple of minutes. Any chance of you tagging along and taking notes? No, you won't have to say anything. I'll do all the talking. Just pretend you're my assistant or something. Thanks sweetie, you're a star.

I'm forever oppressing her like this and I often do it in front of other people. They will either snigger or look embarrassed - depending on who they are - but either way it's horribly humiliating for Janice. Mostly they snigger and they don't bother hiding their ribald amusement as my hapless victim scampers around doing my bidding. They cackle at the spectacle and tell me how terrible I am to bully this poor girl the way I do. I giggle and gleefully admit to being very naughty, secure in the knowledge that I am Miss Pretty and Popular and can do no wrong in their eyes. The upshot is that Janice has become a figure of fun at the office. She is openly referred to as 'Mia's Bitch' - which I rather like! People just laugh at her now and take the piss. Even a few of the women do. Her life at work has become a misery. And all because of me. Yet she remains pleasingly subservient to me. It's thrilling to have such power!

The other day I made her give me a foot massage at my desk. I did! Wasn't that really wicked of me? Mark almost pissed himself when I told him. I kept her at it for at least half an hour. Loads of people in the office saw and they were cracking up too. Not me though. I didn't laugh. I simply ignored her and carried on working as she knelt down and rubbed my feet, made out like it was totally natural that this was happening. Which actually it is. Certainly Janice seems to think so. It's as if she accepts that my gorgeous looks designate me as the higher status female, therefore she must put up with me treating her like shit. She is defenceless against me. Next time I might have her massage my feet while I'm chatting to people. Or even better she can kiss them. She can worship me. Mmm - I rather like that idea. The ugly girl grovels at the pretty girl's feet as the pretty girl flirts with lots of men. That would be a scream.

Do I feel guilty about being so heartless? Not really. Pretty girls realize they have dominion over others and they relish this. They might pretend otherwise, but trust me they do. I'm just being honest about it. I love all the advantages I get because of being irresistible to men. Rob, for example, our Head of Department, he barely acknowledges the presence of the other junior staff but he loves to spend time with me. We flirt outrageously! Everybody knows he has a thing for me. This guy is all powerful at the office, he's like god, yet I have him wrapped around my finger! I did go to lunch with him that time and since then it's become a regular occurrence. Not as regular as he would like, since I say no a lot of the time, it's good to keep him simmering, but often enough. At least once every couple of weeks he whisks me off in the middle of the day to somewhere very expensive. Janice goes green, lol!

Rob is a confirmed tits man, it's almost a fetish with him, always complaining sadly to me that his wife's breasts are sagging these days, just don't do it for him anymore, they're nothing like what they used to be, and so I make sure to wear a particularly dangerous and enticing top for these occasions. I then spend a pleasant three hours luxuriating in a top class restaurant, being waited on hand and foot, as the helplessly mesmerized boss drools at my acres of magnificent, nubile cleavage and tells me over and over what a beautiful young lady I am, incredibly sexy too, if I don't mind him saying so, which he is sure I don't because I must be used to it. I just lap it up. Especially the bit which was music to my ears when he blurted it out towards the end of our first lunch together. It was such a privilege to have a genuinely gorgeous looking girl at the company, Rob gushed into the alpine slopes of my tits, I brightened the whole place up, and so whatever he as Department Head could do to make my life at work a happy one, I should please just say. Anything at all, he stressed. I mustn't be shy about it. My wish was his command.

I take full advantage of this kind and generous offer. When we meet up I can always think of new things I want. I want a nice fat salary rise. I want the most interesting juicy work assignments and permission to offload all my more boring mundane duties to poor Janice. I'd like a cast-iron guarantee of quick promotion as soon as I've finished the training period. It would be great if I could arrive late or leave early whenever I feel like it without even giving a reason. And how about a clothes allowance on top of my salary? You know, so I can keep looking suitably fabulous for him and all the other guys at the office. Rob has been as good as his word. All I have to do is pout at him and make the request in my best babydoll voice. What Mia wants, Mia gets, is basically how it is, because the big boss has the hots for me and therefore strives to please. I just love this. It's so unfair!

Sometimes I ask for totally outrageous things simply because I can and it amuses me. Example. There was this nerdy boy at work called Raymond, a real serious and diligent type, who I found a bit of a bore, so I got Rob to fire him. Hey presto gone! Rob told me that the poor boy was in tears when he left. He was shattered. Total state of confusion. He just could not get his head around it. No idea if Raymond managed to find another job. Who cares? Not me. I've toyed with the idea of having Janice fired too. Only reason I haven't is that I like having her there as my toy. If I ever get bored of torturing her, unlikely but not impossible, then she's toast.

Anyway, I did something better than getting rid of her. I told Rob that I would love it if he were to come down one day and give Janice a really severe dressing down before the whole department. He grinned knowingly and said he would be happy to. He did it later that very day and it did not disappoint. Rob gave her both barrels. Gave her a truly fearsome roasting in front of everyone. In his booming 'big boss' voice he told the visibly quaking target that she was grossly underperforming - especially compared to me who was a total paragon! - and if she did not pull her socks up, and pronto, she would be out the door. So now on top of all the dirt I make her eat the poor thing is in a constant state of terror about losing her job! Kind of fiendish, huh?

Another example. At annual bonus time, in addition to me getting triple the maximum amount I asked Rob if I could decide what all the other employees got. He said sure. So I went through the list and I capriciously awarded the maximum to my favourites, the guys I most enjoyed flirting with, and the minimum to everyone else, apart from Janice who I decided should get nothing since all she did now was the crappy stuff that I couldn't be arsed doing. I really enjoyed writing the zero next to her name. So funny when she got the grim news! Even funnier when I told her what bonus I got! God, I'd hate to be an ugly girl. What a bum deal!

There's a standing invitation that if ever I'm feeling at a loose end I can leave my desk and go up to the tenth floor and hang out with Rob in his opulent private office for a bit. Which I do sometimes and it's nice. Nothing sordid happens. I'm not some slut who is screwing the boss. Although he would love to, needless to say. Whenever I present myself in his room and we snuggle down together on his large comfortable sofa, he always begs me for a fuck. I pretend to consider it, and there is much smooching and canoodling and fooling around as he seeks to persuade me, clothes coming off, our hands and mouths going everywhere, but I will call a halt just before things get completely out of control and inform him very firmly that a fuck is out of the question. And no, there will be no handjob either. He can finish himself off later when I've gone, lol.

Although this happens every time, Rob always looks crushed as he slowly gets dressed. He accepts that 'no means no' but he is in an awful state, poor guy, what with having got me down to my panties, and me writhing around and moaning his name, appearing for all the world like I'm about to slide them off and open my legs for him, and plus the bittersweet memory, no more than a minute ago, of him sucking avidly at my big juicy tits, licking my hard jutting nipples, stroking my smooth silky thighs, and of my soft sensuous fingers inside his pants, expertly caressing his hard hungry cock. He wasn't far off coming when I abruptly stopped. That's so hard for a man, I know, and a little unfair too. A girl really shouldn't do that. I cushion the blow just slightly by awarding him one last lingering kiss on the lips before giggling and saying maybe next time. It would be wrong to deny him all hope, given how he spoils me rotten. And you never know, one day I might relent!