Office Mating - Prelude 03

[Note: this chapter is long, with a slow buildup.]

I was surprised when Daoud introduced me to his new girlfriend when we returned to school in August. I was jealous when I first met her. We were never "official," but I figured I would have "first dibs" on him for our senior year. We exchanged small talk over the rest of the year, but I gave him and his girlfriend respectful space.

I graduated summa cum laude with my computer science degree and a body count of three: Doud, a convenient FWB who lived in my apartment building, and some guy I gave a drunken handjob to while I was my slutty cousin's wingman during a spring break trip.

I happened to graduate when the Great Recession was approaching its worst. Job prospects were few. I split my discretionary time between job interviews and graduate school applications. I received two mediocre offers at notorious job mills, so I elected to hide from the terrible economy in business school. I was lucky enough to get into a prestigious program in New England. I moved there at the beginning of August.

The MBA program was far easier than my computer science degree. Since it was easier to keep my grades up, I had more time to meet people, enjoy life and local culture, and curate letters of recommendation. I dated a little my first year but found nothing as scintillating as my time with Daoud.

I landed an internship at a well-known tech company in New York state after the first year of business school. It came with shared corporate housing and a small living stipend. Trent was second-in-command of my team, which consisted of 11 employees and two interns.

At the end of my first week, I was required to attend a meeting with all the interns and some of the team leaders. I took no notice when Trent sat next to me. A grey-haired VP of something was droning on about diversity or something. I was completely checked out, mindlessly doodling on my notepad.

Trent leaned over and wrote in the corner. "His lips are moving, but all I hear is Charlie Brown's teacher's voice."

I pretended to sneeze to hide my laugh. He scribbled again "Mwah-mwah-mwah-mwah. It's seriously all I can hear."

I feigned irritation and scribbled my reply. "You're going to get me in trouble!"

He wrote back: "Only matters if you don't want to be in trouble."

Was my boss flirting with me? I felt like I should be offended. I glanced to see whether he was smiling. He was not. Instead, he was looking at me like I was a ribeye steak. His direct, intense, and sexual attention was in direct conflict with workplace standards.

I paused, my mind in conflict. The VP seemed to be wrapping up his presentation. Trent leaned back to my notepad and wrote "He has given this same presentation the last five summers. I wish he would just say something unexpected."

Ah! Something I could talk about free of conflict. "I got this speech in college every year. Unexpected would be great!"

The meeting ended. I expected Trent to chat. Instead, he stood, barely nodded at me, and left the room. I returned to my cubicle for the day.

***

At the end of the workday two days later, I was changing my shoes from my heels to flats for the walk to the train station. I unclasped the buckle on my left shoe when heard Trent's voice above me.

"I will help you with that."

I looked up to see him standing just outside my cubicle. He didn't ask or offer. He stated he would help. This seemed forward. The kind of help he offered was intimate. This is a workplace. I should be offended. I know I should. I should reject his help and go about my business. I tried to conjure up indignance, but his direct statements had taken over my will. My body betrayed me as my cheeks and chest flushed, my tits tingled, and my pussy dampened.

Despite my body's reaction, I resolved not let him get away with such an outwardly sexual comment at work. I steeled myself to put him in his place. I turned to him ready with a zinger and saw him looking directly into my eyes with unspoken, lustful intentions. The words got stuck in my mouth. Without breaking eye contact with him, I found myself slouching back into my chair. I slowly raised my foot in his direction.

He knelt on one knee, took my calf in one hand, and grasped my shoe in the other. He slowly slipped the high heel from my foot, then held me by the arch with one hand while caressing up my leg with the other.

"You have amazing legs. They would be better in stockings."

Again with the instructions! I was completely entangled in righteous anger, but also inexplicably turned on. He took his time caressing his way up my leg, up the inside of my knee under the hem of my skirt and stopping a few inches up my thigh. He then removed his hand, put my flat on, and gently put my foot down.

"Now the other one." More fucking instructions disguised as requests! And why could I not resist? Was he a vampire? A hypnotist?

My mind raged with dissonance. But the part that wanted to obey him won out over rational judgment. I felt myself spreading my legs intentionally to give him a view of my panties before shifting my weight to the other hip and extending my right foot. He repeated the same thing with the other shoe: remove, hold, caress. This time his right hand stroked its way to within an inch of my boiling pussy. He spoke again.

"Do you have stockings?"

I nodded haltingly.

He put the other flat shoe on me, placed my foot on the floor. Then he stood and left wordlessly. I was suddenly aware of the prickling in my nipples, the deep flush on my chest, and my completely soaked panties. A minute or two after he left, I managed to rouse from my reverie. I realized I would be late for my train and hurried to the elevators.

***

I woke up the next morning and went for a jog, mentally going through my task list for the day as I ran. Unlike most mornings, I had to force myself to focus on my tasks, rather than on the encounter with Trent the day before. I returned to my apartment and took a shower. I resolved in the shower to dress as I always do.

Hair still wet, I went to my closet and got out my standard fare: skirt just past the knee, blouse, scarf, blazer, camisole, and foundation garments to prevent visibility. I laid everything out on the bed and went to do my hair and makeup.

I finished my hair but was unsatisfied. I spent another 10 minutes putting it up, but with tendrils around my face. As I did my eyes, I added a little more liner, mascara, and shadow. Not like I am going out to a dance club, but still more than usual. I skipped over my regular lipstick and picked something more red.

I returned to my room and walked past the outfit I picked. I went to my special drawer and picked out a matching lingerie set: bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, all in black. I put those on, then picked out the shortest skirt I could get away with at the office. To go with that, I selected a translucent blouse. I skipped over the camisole. And left the first two buttons open. And omitted the scarf.

I put the blazer on but left the scarf off. I looked in the mirror wondering what was in store for me that day. Something was wrong. As I studied my reflection, I reached up under my skirt and slid off my panties. I had to work hard not to admit to myself that I was dressing as a "respectable office whore," and that I was doing it for Trent. I went to work.

***

Forty-five minutes later I was responding to emails at my workstation. Trent appeared at my cubicle. He complimented my outfit. As he was turning to leave, he said "Let's chat later." Again, not asking.

"Sure! I would love to!" I responded, too eagerly.

"4:00." No hint of upward inflection.

"I will call you around four!" a little too cheery.

"4:00" he repeated. He handed me a business card. "We'll talk then."

I was confused about the business card since I had his contact information in our company directory. I flipped it over. He had written his mobile number on the back. I immediately entered it into my Blackberry. As I was assigning a speed dial, I stopped. What the hell was I doing? I am here for experience and references, not to fuck my boss! I put my Blackberry on silent and shoved it into the back of my desk drawer.

***

I managed to stay on-task through the morning and clear out most of my tasks. I ate alone at my desk, which was a mistake. During those 30 minutes my thoughts wandered to Trent. Or more specifically Trent's way of telling me what he wanted or what he was doing. I dug out my Blackberry and contemplated sending him a text backing out. But I also wanted to see where this went. I ended up doing nothing.

The rest of the afternoon was a struggle: as I thought of Trent more, I became increasingly aroused. At 3:00, I retired to the ladies' room to for a self-inflicted orgasm. By 3:30 p.m., I found myself looking at the clock every minute.

I hit speed dial at 3:59. Trent answered after the fourth ring.

"Hello." He waited for me to respond.

I swooned a little at the sound of his voice. "Hello!" I echoed in too-high a pitch. Why is it that my voice sounds so eager while talking to this man? "What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Meet me at the elevators in four minutes. You are done working for the day."

Just as I was about to respond, the phone clicked.

I logged off my workstation and began to change my shoes so I could just go home after talking to Trent. I stopped myself. Realizing I had wasted two minutes, I went straight to the elevators at a clip. I got there with seconds to spare.

Trent was waiting for me. "I like punctuality in my team members."

Team member? So this is a business meeting after all. I was relieved to have some clarity. But I was also disappointed both that I had invested in my outfit, and that my arousal and curiosity was mislaid.

The elevator arrived, we stepped in, and Trent pressed the "19" button. We exited the elevator amid a remodeling project. As we got off the elevator, two construction crewmembers got on with their tools and lunch boxes. The floor was otherwise empty.

Trent led me to a conference room with a large table, several executive chairs, and a sofa. He took the chair from the head of the table, turned it around, and sat. I turned from him to pull out one of the other chairs at the table.

"Did I tell you to sit?" I froze, straightened up, and faced him.

"I'm sorry? This is a team meeting, right?" I was begging for direction.

Trent studied me, looking at me with a palpable hunger.

"Stand here. Face me." He pointed to a spot about two feet in front of him. I stepped over and faced him square-on.

"I see you are wearing hose. You are wearing those because of me."

I nodded silently.

"Show me."

I swiveled to bring my left thigh closer to him and pulled up the hem of my skirt with my left hand just enough to show him the bottom of the welt of my stockings on the side of my thigh. I stopped lifting my hem. He spoke again.

"Do not turn away from me. Face me, then show me."

I let go of my hem and turned square to him. I used both hands to lift my skirt in front, but again stopped when the bottom edges of the welts were showing.

"That could just be control-top pantyhose. Show me."

I paused. There is no reasonable explanation why I was doing this. This could ruin my career. But I wanted so badly to do what he wanted. I was even bare under my skirt for him, for christsakes! I squirmed in place, my hands stayed where they were, my mind full of tension.

"If you don't want to show me, we will stop, you will go back to your cubicle, and we will not do this again." Everything he said was completely believable, even rational. I should stop. I should never do this again...

"No." I whispered. "Don't do that. Don't say that."

I could feel his gaze as we stood in silence for a solid minute.

"You wore those for me, so you thought of me while you dressed in your lingerie this morning," he said.

"Yes. I did. And yes, I thought of you," I finally admitted to myself.

"So you wanted me to see your stockings and your lingerie." He read my mind.

"Yes. I did."

"Then show me. Like you intended to this morning. Like you want to now."

I lifted my skirt higher, showing the ends of the suspender straps, but stopped again.

"Higher."

I hesitated another second, then lifted my skirt high enough for him to see I was panty-less.

"My. An overachiever," he observed. He leaned forward in his chair. My pussy was suddenly overflowing with fluid. He reached out and slid his right hand up the inside of my thigh from my knee toward my pussy. My pulse pounded in my chest and ears. He slowed as he approached my sex.

"What will I do with you." It sounded nothing like a question.

"Whatever you decide." Admitting that I wanted to do his will contradicted everything I had achieved so far. It made no sense but I could not help myself.

"An obedient overachiever."

His hand crept up another quarter inch. My knees started to vibrate from arousal.

"Higher" he said. I pulled my skirt slowly up to my waist. His hand was within an inch of my pussy. I would be dripping soon, and I was sure he could smell me. I felt like I would faint.

He removed his hand. "Kneel." I slowly knelt before him.

"Look at me." I looked directly into his ravenous eyes.

"Working with me, you will need to anticipate what I need or want before I ask. Do you understand?"

I nodded slowly, silently.

He sat back into his chair, never breaking eye contact. "What do I need now?"

Licking my lips, I leaned forward and unfastened his pants. A healthy seven-inch erect penis sprung from his boxers. I grasped it with my hand and moved forward to put it in my mouth.

Just before I got his cock into my mouth, he asked, "Why are you doing this." Again, this did not feel like a question.

"Because you want it. And because I know you want it. And because I want to obey you." My voice was low. I could not believe my mouth would be so disloyal, no matter how true the statement. He was still looking at me as if he would consume me.

After a moment, he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. Still looking at him, I licked the head, then down the shaft to the base. I added spit for lubricant and grasped the base with my hand while I moved back to the head. I then focused on the task before me. As I enveloped the head with my mouth, I heard him release something between sigh and groan.

"An eager, obedient, overachiever" he said in a hoarse whisper. I felt my thighs become slick when he said that. I pumped his shaft with my hand while I took his cock deeper into my mouth. He groaned deeply as I swirled my tongue around the head. His cock got even harder and started to throb. I pumped back and forth with my fist and head in tandem as he shoved his hips forward. After a few moments of this, he asked,

"What do I need now?"

I moved my hand to the base of his cock and took him deeper, feeling the first urge to gag. My eyes watered. "Yes, that's it." His encouragement built my confidence. I shoved my head forward gagging in earnest. I felt him entangle his hands in my hair as he grasped my head. "You have this."

I backed away before filling my mouth again. I felt his hips thrust and the head of his cock shove past my palette into my throat. I realized I could not breathe. I could feel my eyes and esophagus sting. "Keep going. You know what I want." I felt yet another conflict: I hated the feeling of suffocating and gagging, but I could not resist the lust rising in me as I gave him what he wanted and he used me for his pleasure.

Just as the world around me became hazy, he pulled my head from his cock. He pointed my face at his so I was looking directly into his eyes again. "Good girl," he said. My pussy pulsed and gushed. Looking directly at him, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. He directed his cock back into my mouth and thrust his hips up again, directly into my throat. It didn't sting as bad, and i was not gagging as much. The feeling of being used like a sex toy had me 80% of the way to an orgasm. He thrust in and out of my mouth two three four I don't know times.

I was lost in a combination of lust and asphyxiation. He suddenly pulled my head away again. He stood from his chair, pulling me up as he did. He kicked his chair to the side and bent me over the conference table. My skirt was still bunched up around my waist, leaving my pussy and ass exposed.

"What will I do with you?" he asked again.

My judgment whispered to me. "I should get up and leave. I should report him. I should..."

I reached between my thighs with my hand and spread my pussy open for him, like a brazen, sex-starved whore.

"Whatever you decide," I answered.

My sluttiness, my arousal, and my willingness to submit had never been like this with Daoud. I felt my pussy juice dripping down my thighs and into my stockings. If Trent touched, licked, or even blew on my clit, my orgasm would have been instant and powerful. I heard a crackling noise and realized he was putting on a condom. He had planned ahead.

He left me bent over with my fingers spreading my pussy open for him. After a few moments he stepped behind me and grasped my hips hard in his hands. Without fanfare, he plunged all at once into my boiling pussy.

I tried to stifle my scream, but the orgasm was just too much. I felt liquid gush and pour out of me onto the table. He pushed my chest into the tabletop with one hand and grabbed a handful of my ass with the other, pumping into me with a measured, deliberate, and strong rhythm. I rode out my first orgasm with a smile. He gave me no rest, though, and I was suddenly awash in a second.

He then stopped and withdrew from me. I felt his fingers in my pussy for a moment before it was replaced with his cock. He started pounding into me with that same rhythm. It beat into my mind, replacing all other thought. It somehow matched my pulse. It brought me to the brink of a third orgasm. Then his finger suddenly slipped into my asshole.

"OHMYGOD!" I shrieked, my legs squirming and shaking under me. My climax was explosive. It was utterly different, emanating from somewhere deep inside me. He plunged deep and stopped as I writhed and shook and squealed loudly under him. I felt him push down harder on my chest, then release me and slap my ass.

"Quiet!" he commanded. His slap, cock, finger, and control, all brought about another climax, and I grunted and moaned out loud again, while squirming on the table.

"I said quiet!" he said, and brought his hand up to cover my mouth. He continued to fuck me, one hand covering my mouth, one hand with what I guessed was his thumb in my ass, and his cock sawing in and out of me. He used his grip on my mouth to pull roughly against himself as he continued his assault on my pussy. My climaxes blended into one constant orgasm. Tears and drool and pussy juice flowed freely from me. His rhythm and strength increased. I moaned into his hands and licked and bit his fingers. He pulled my head toward him, making my back arch. Everything he did to me just added intensity.

Suddenly he withdrew his cock and finger, and dragged my head around my side toward him. I opened my eyes to see that he had taken off his condom, and was pointing his cock at my face, stroking it strongly. I looked at him. As soon as I made eye contact, he gave me more directions.

"Rub your pussy. Open your mouth."

I slid my fingers into the drenched folds of my cunt and began rubbing furiously. I opened my mouth slowly and obediently and stuck out my tongue. I felt another climax just as he blasted rope after rope of cum on my cheek, lips, nose, and tongue.

"A dedicated, obedient, team member. Good work," he complimented, as he pumped his load onto my face.