Office Perversions

He had been waiting in his office for some time now. Getting up occasionally to pace to the window, only to return to his desk, flick his pen around his fingers and stare at the phone. Thoughts of her had been infecting his mind ever since she started work there a few weeks ago.

At least in his office he was consumed by thoughts of her in private. Meetings were worse. He was all too aware of her presence and had to make a concerted effort not to stare at her. Yet his eyes betrayed him as his mind would inevitably drift to thoughts of her and before he knew it he'd be gazing at her, watching her subtle movements, catching her furtive, cautious glances. He felt nasty and cheap, like a beast stalking a pray. His dangerous thoughts were interrupted by staff seeking his opinion on some insignificant project: insignificant compared to the project he had in mind for her.

She was half his age, and he knew better. But knowing it was wrong did not solve the problem. There was something about her, something deeply sexual, yet precociously innocent. Her movements were naturally sexual; her pen would linger in the corner of her mouth or she'd cross her legs just a little too slowly. He wondered if these moves were rehearsed and indicative of why she had progressed so high so quickly. He had even asked to see her résumé on some flimsy pretext, but found her eminently qualified. He imagined her as the bright student, the good girl, but underneath she had desires and needs that she didn't have the knowledge of how to let out; desires which visited her in the night. Sitting at his desk he realized how entranced he had become, how far the story had run in his head. It had progressed to the point that he was now staring at his phone, trying to decide if he could, or should call her.

He picked up the phone, transfixed for a moment until desire trumped his nerves. The speed dial sounded. He waited, one, two rings...

"Hi Mike, what can I do for you?"

Mike suddenly realized he didn't have a plan. He hadn't thought of something to ask because he had been so caught up in the fantasy. The mundane reality of actually making the call had been lost on him. He may have had the desire, but it had been many years since he last tried to seduce a woman, let alone someone like Gretel. He cursed himself for being so stupid.

"Oh, ah... yes, there was something from this mornings meeting," he stalled for time, "I wasn't really paying attention, and was wondering if you could clarify a few things for me Gretel."

"Sure, I'll be right up. But I don't think there was anything that important said."

"Oh yes, I'm sure, but I just wanted your perspective."

There was a pause as Gretel realised the reason he called had changed. Mike could sense the tension, almost feeling the electricity shoot down the line. He dismissed it, not allowing it to enter into his conspiracy of desire. He tried to regain his usual composure,

"It's important I know what my staff are doing," Mike said.

"Well, I've just finished something so I'll come across to your office," with that Gretel hung up.

Gretel sat confused at her desk, wondering why Mike chose now to acknowledge her. She had met most people in the office, but Mike seemed to be deliberately avoiding her. In fact, she had thought he was somehow offended by her. It seemed no one really talked about him, and either respected or feared him enough not to make jokes about him. He was mysterious, although perhaps as so often was the case with the men she knew, the mystery wasn't nearly as interesting as she imagined.

She saved the document on her computer and looked around nervously. She caught Richie staring at her but he quickly turned away. She had caught most of the men in the office staring at her, in the way middleclass white men with meaningless jobs tend to do. It seemed as if the open plan office had been designed specifically for perve opportunities. The white collar male could pretend he was out hunting instead of calculating loss margins. She didn't take such attention it personally and had grown accustomed to it. At times she even learnt how to use it to her advantage. She learnt how to wear her skirt slightly higher than was normal, return the gaze with a knowing smile. She never thought of it as any more than that, just something which made getting on in her industry a little easier. Yet she feared this behavior may be a problem for Mike. Mike with the ring on his finger and his conservative tone.

She knew enough that he was a man who could make her job disappear. She got up from her desk and snuck into the bathroom on the way to his office, pulled her skirt down as far as it would go and poked a few wayward strands of hair back into her pony tale.

Mike tapped his pen on his desk wondering exactly what he was doing. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, and he licked his lips nervously. He tapped his pen anxiously, almost picked up the phone to tell her not to come when she appeared.

"Hi Mike, you wanted to see me?"

She stood nervously in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the harsh office lights behind her. Mike looked at her, then looked away, trying not to look at her body, trying to force out the dark thoughts which had only just momentarily been about that very body. Gretel's hands smoothed down her skirt like a schoolgirl in front of the principal. It was a gesture that seemed to be instinctively protecting her from his improper thoughts.

"Come in, come in, sit." He started to get up from his desk to welcome her, but as he rose he felt a hardness in his trousers which betrayed him. He quickly sat back down, hoping she didn't notice. Gretel moved to his desk, her own movements mirroring his awkwardness. She hadn't been this close to him before, and for a split second she saw how attractive he was. A silver fox, in a suit that matched his stature, confident and strong. He reminded her of a man she used to baby sit for. A man who would drive her home late at night, listening to music she didn't understand and tell her about things she'd never thought of. He was a man she wanted to teach her, to show her the world. Many times after he dropped her off, she'd lie in bed, slowly touching herself praying that one night he would lean over and kiss her goodnight, his hands and slipping under the sheer slip dress she'd always wear for him. She longed for him to unleash the powerful feelings which pulsed through her. Nothing ever happened, but there was something in Mike's eyes which at that moment filled her with that memory. She shuffled in her chair, forcing her thoughts back to the gravity of the present moment.

"I really just wanted to welcome you. I know you are new, and I've heard some good things already. It's important to me that my staff feel part of the team."

She was instantly relieved and relaxed into her chair, letting out a quick breath,

"Oh thank you, I was worried that you were going to fire me!" She regretted being so informal, for saying something so stupid, just as she had cursed her adolescent replies as a young girl in that car. 'I'm smarter than this' she said in her head.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I should have made myself more clear. I was sitting here, thinking about you and thought I should officially welcome you." Mike replied smiling at her outburst, feeling slightly more in control, remembering just how much power he actually had.

"Thinking of me?" Gretel replied, genuinely surprised.

Mike stared at her, their eyes met for a flash before breaking away.

"Yes, thinking of you," Mike said.

"It's just that I don't imagine you think of me often, I mean I'm new here." She could feel his eyes on her, still not sure what he was implying. This felt dangerous, as though her flirtatious responses were leading her down a dark alley. She bit her lip, half flirtatiously, half worryingly at the developing tension.

"You'd be surprised just how often you pop into my head." Again he looked directly at her, this time not breaking eye contact until she blushed and looked away. He swallowed slowly, filling with confidence as Gretel once again brushed down her skirt, her hands shifting nervously. He let his eyes slowly drift down her body, over the nape of her neck, down to the first button of her white blouse, the button pulled slightly by her shapely breasts, the outline of her bra occasionally visible through the tort fabric. Down further still he looked over her pencil skirt, her hands folded protectively over her lap, as though he could see right through it. Finally, able to look at her the way he had been craving he regained control, or rather his desire gained control of him. He knew what to do with a clarity that lifted the clouds from his mind. He saw her for who she was, the naughty girl who foolishly played the start of a game without thinking where it would lead. A girl who needed to be taught the rules of the endgame; shown the cost on her body.

She watched him looking, alarmed how powerful his gaze had become, how much it terrified and excited her, liberating her from the performance of her "office girl" identity. She felt laid bare by those assessing eyes.

Mike was on the pathway to destruction and he knew nothing was going to stop him, the only option was to grab Gretel and take her down with him. He slowly stood up, not breaking his gaze on her. He placed his hand in his trouser pockets and pushed his jacket to the side. His belt buckle shone, a beacon marking danger. Gretel could instantly see his hard shape pressed into his pants, running across almost parallel to his belt. He was showing her. Her heart raced as he stood raining forceful desire all over her body. She could feel the pricks of energy perforating her, slicing through her clothes, raising trails of goose bumps in its wake. She felt violated. Mike spoke slowly,

"Now show me. Put your feet on the desk."

Gretel looked over her shoulder for a second, worried someone might see from the main office. She caught movement in the corner of her eye, but before she could focus on it he forced her attention.

"I said, show me. Don't be coy. Every man in this office has imagined you like this," he insisted.

She blushed, ashamed of being seen like this, but her body wanted Mike to expose her. Even though she blushed humiliated, she raised her legs, locking the arch of her heels on the edge of his desk, her ankles together.

"Open your legs."

She paused again, wanting to look back to see if anyone was watching. He sensed her distraction and slammed his hands down on the desk. The shock of the sound echoed through the desk and into her feet. Startled into obedience she found herself sliding her heels across the desk. Her sheer dark stocking caught the light as she spread her legs, her skirt riding up her thigh until only one dark, forbidden recess remained between her legs. He stood looking, smiling, knowingly. His hand shifted in his pocket, moving toward his hard cock. She could see his the shape of his fingers meet his cock under his trousers. The thought of her body turning him on sent shivers through her. She could feel heat building between her legs. Transfixed she sat still allowing him to view her exposed for him. She thought she heard movement behind her. Had someone seen? Surely him slamming his hands down on the desk drew attention. She knew she couldn't look back and she knew he could easily see, yet staring into his eyes gave her no clues. He wanted her helpless.

"Don't move Gretel."

Mike walked to the door, looking out briefly he saw most people had left for the day, only a few were still working on the far side of the office. His PA had left after lunch, but he called out as if she was right there.

'Margaret can you come in for a moment?'

Gretel's heart exploded in her chest. Her feet were still wide open across his desk. She flung herself around, so ashamed and humiliated that Mike would expose herself like that.

As she turned she saw Mike standing alone, the door now shut behind him.

Suddenly the office appeared dark, as if their own thoughts had made it that way. He walked briskly up to her, and slapped her across the face. The whipping sound stung the whole room.

"I didn't tell you that you could move," he whispered in a surly voice.

She sat stunned, more in shock than in pain. What had just happened? Her mind told her to run, but the slap awoke something in her that just made her feel even more humiliated. Feeling him do that, punish her, had turned her on. How could that be? She felt so charged, so encapsulated by the taboo of it. She had never experienced anything like it.

Mike registered her shock, realizing he had lead her into drastically new territory. He spun her chair around so she was facing the desk. Without needing to ask she placed her heels back on the desk for him. He slid his hands gentle onto her shoulders, massaging them. His fingers traced the neckline of her blouse, venturing just under the edge of her bra. She sat still as a doll allowing his hands to move over her, wanting more, but not knowing how to ask. He lent over her, his face next to hers.

"Touch yourself"

She twitched at the sound of his voice so close to her. The warmth of his breath filled her ear. Her only thought was to obey.

"Yes."

She wriggled on the seat until her hips were on the edge of it. Grabbing the hem of her skirt she lifted it up over her thighs. Knowing better than to pause, she slid her hand under her stockings and found her panties already soaked. In fact her whole body was gleaming with nervous sweat, but her pussy was drenched in a different, betraying scent. She slipped her fingers under the soaked fabric and arched her back at the pleasure of her own touch. She was so nervous, but touching herself for him transcended her fear.

Her ponytail hung loose down the back of the chair. Swinging slightly in consort with the rhythmic movements of her hand. Mike slid her hair elastic off and it gradually unfurled. Her hair flowed down in dark waves and he could feel it brush thick against his shirt. His hands moved through her hair and up to her head, massaging her scalp as he looked down over his sex toy. She was far more beautiful than he had imagined. He could smell her excitement, her heat was palpable, wafting over her young body. Occasionally she would open her eyes to see him staring down at her, his desire etched across his face. He cradled her head, his firm hands tracing the outline of her noise, her cheeks, her lips. Her tongue followed his touch of her lips leaving a glistening path. He gently pushed two fingers into her mouth, she sucked greedily pulling his fingers deep into her. He pulled them out, sliding his wet fingers down to her neck, pausing for a moment, fastening around it. She twitched at the minor restraint, aware of what he could do if he chose.

"Don't get too carried away girl," Mike warned.

His hands moved back down her front, unbuttoning her blouse, sliding over her flesh, exposing her. She looked down seeing his manly hands run over her body, the cuffs of his starched shirt teasing her bare skin. She twitched as the cold metal of his cuff links touched her flesh, leaving a tell tale red trail. One hand slid further, pulling the bottom of her blouse from her skirt, then down, cupping her hand between her legs, learning how to touch her. His other hand slipped under her bra, easily finding her erect nipple. She slipped her hand out so he could touch her, his fingers playing lightly with her clit. Looking up into his eyes, she salaciously licked her fingers for him, delighting in her own taste.

He leant over her and for the first time they kissed. The energy of that kiss was too much. It connected two wires which had been charging for weeks. It filled Mike with the need to have her, to take her, possess her. He whispered excitedly,

'I need you, I'm going to fuck you, I'm going to use you like you know your need to be used. I'm going to make you look as dirty as your mind is.'

Such words, so base and instinctual, pierced her body. She couldn't reply, the part of her mind which usually told her to stop had long left her, only her body was left aching, needing to be used.

He picked her up, throwing her onto his desk. Papers scattered as he flung her across it. The picture of his wife and kids clattered to the floor. A distant memory, a different life which seemed so hollow and fake now. Gretel's young, fresh body, her wide frightened schoolgirl eyes and her yearning cunt had awoken him. He wanted to destroy her, consume her. The violence of the act shocked her, but she found herself panting, begging...

'Use me, fucking use me.'

Unable to control himself he pulled her knees apart, greedily reaching up her thighs, tearing at the stockings until ladders turned into holes. His finger grabbed and tore the crotch off them, revealing pale soft flesh underneath. Pushing her g-string to one side he paused to take in the sight of her pussy, gleaming and glistening for him. Her pussy lips opening as he pushed her legs apart, spindles of wetness sticking to her pubic hair. So gloriously dripping with a need that could only be quenched by a firm man, a rough teacher. It seemed so obvious to her now, it was like she'd be living a lie- she realised the sex she had until this moment was not sex. It couldn't be classified as the same as what she now felt.

He laughed at her wriggling body and playfully slapped her cunt. The sensation was like being winded and she tried to close her legs but he held her knees open.

'You g-string wearing whore. Look at your cunt, it drips just at the thought of being with me. Now I've revealed your true face.'

'But I'm good, I'm not, not like this...' she tried to protest.

He grabbed the torn crotch of her stocking and shoved it into her mouth. She spluttered, bubbles of saliva escaping from the corners of her mouth. He held it in place until she calmed and breathed steadily through her nose.

'Then why Gretel are even your stockings soaked?' the rhetorical tone directed at his gagged girl delighted him. Her chest heaved as she tried to breath deeply, causing her blouse to open fully revealing a deep scarlet mesh bra, her nipples prominently poking out. The sight of her wriggling on his desk, reflected in the high polish, her hair splayed out, and sheer stockings between her rose lips was more than he could stand. He kissed greedily down her body, kissing, sucking and biting her nipples through the mesh of her bra, her yelps muffled by her own stocking. The mesh finally tore open and her nipples poked out through the ravished bra.

His path of destruction fervently worked lower, until raising her skirt he lapped at her pussy, overwhelming tears gripped Gretel, leaving dark mascara trails trickling from the corners of her eyes. She grabbed onto the edge of the desk then wrapped her legs around his neck to draw him into her cunt. He teased her clit, licking, sucking until her eyes rolled back in frustration and delight. She arched her back, like a cat annoyed at his teasing. Mike took the opportunity to unclip her bra, allowing her breast to finally be free. His hands reached up and played with her nipples coating them in her own juices. They gleamed in the soft office light, pert and responsive to his touch. They seems so perfectly white and innocent, save for the dark red bite mark encircling her left nipple.

He finally let her have what she craved, settling on a steady rhythmic, wet flicking of her clit. The sensation was too much, her body flushed red and she bent forward, her legs still locked over his neck but now her hands gripping his hair she pushed his face into her as she exploded, cumming in orgasmic pulses. She didn't even realize the noise she was making as the waves of sensation rushed through her. Her orgasm curled her toes causing her high heels to clomp to the floor. Her knuckles white as she held on to the desk for dear life having lost all sense of balance and gravity.