The Secret Fetish Pt. 04

Almost daily interaction with Felicity brought a cacophony of emotions to the surface along with a cascade of want. I read philosophy, conducted some online therapy, and even considered trying to find a way to let Felicity go. Deciding that firing her would be a personal failing and probably grounds for a lawsuit I finally decided instead to find a way to say no to her.

One philosopher that I read had concluded that "those who successfully hold themselves back from intense pleasure and pain" which Felicity surely caused on a daily basis "would achieve a kind of serene independence from the passions rather than gratify some deep or pressing desire." Was that what the monks of the past tried to do? Didn't I have the emotional strength to resist her within me? So far it had not manifested itself, but I decided I would have to try. Thinking about standing up to her in any fashion often cascaded out of control. Often it involved sitting at my desk and visualizing what she could do to me physically. I imagined her in the weight room, veins swelling on her sweat-soaked muscles, rising in a tremendous pump as she repeatedly raised and lowered fifty-pound dumbbells.

Grunting and straining like she was the true man in the room, she'd pound rep after rep while I was beside her pumping pink fifteen-pounders. "Now," she'd command, as her glistening body needed relief. I'd respond immediately dropping my 'weights' and wiping her brow and then spot her as her shaking muscles inflated like a balloon.

Try as I might to extricate myself from her shadow, a simple word or bulge beneath her thin skin and I'd be entranced. Like a moth to a flame, I found myself beside her desk finding a way to encourage her to talk about her strength and muscle while tracing her hard curves with my eyes.

"I overheard you talking about your workout tomorrow with your trainer. It sounds like a brutal one" I said, dropping a file on her desk, in an almost desperate maneuver to find an opening. She smiled at me, and it felt like my whole body grew lighter, my chest thumping in anticipation of her answer. She brushed her fingers through her hair, the callouses on her palms providing some friction with movement, causing her biceps to twitch and flare. Sweaty, vein-filled biceps shimmered, filled with raw unadulterated power. My fingers longed to trace the fat vein running across the peak. God, you're gorgeous.

"Yeah, Jason is putting me through a grinder tomorrow. He likes to shake up my endless reps where I tense my muscles without a break with occasional heavy days where I go hard and fast. Tomorrow, I'm maxing out on everything. You might have to carry me in here tomorrow," she laughed. "Of course, I'm pushing two hundred now," she laughed again. "Can you lift that kind of weight?"

I laughed, "probably not, what about you?" God, I say the dumbest things around her.

"Sure, benching, squatting, deadlifts, and probably even shoulder presses. I guess we'll see tomorrow. You'll have to come to watch me some time, boss." I'd totally lose it.

The next day, Felicity trudged in lacking energy for the first time in as long as I could remember. She'd been wasted by a brutal workout.

"I barely made it in, boss. I'm wiped." Imposing, thick veins snaked across her dark and evenly tanned skin physique. Everywhere thick muscles bulged as if she could crush boulders with her brute force. Scanning the twisted muscularity rising from her frame, I longed to devour her imagining her as perfect as the first bite into a block of dark chocolate. My desire was overwhelming I was worried about my ability to resist her chime, even if she wasn't purposefully using it on me.

When she marched into my office, stretched across my desk, and playfully asked for her shoulder massage, I literally shook in fear. She said it as if she owned both the desk and me.

"Hey boss, I could use a little kneading from your magic hands if you have a minute. My arms and shoulders are aching after that workout. I did the two hundred you asked for my shoulders too." Placing her palms flat against the desk in a deep stretch, I was forced to look up at her bulging forearms, triceps, delts, and traps. I looked up at her and once again visibly shuddered, but this time in front of her. Her grin told me she saw my reaction. She was either already bigger than the week before or more massively pumped than I'd ever seen her. Traps seemed to explode up to her neck calling for my hands' attention.

Teeth chattering, goosebumps cascading across my frame I huffed, barely audibly. "No, I think I'm too busy today."

She cocked her head momentarily in disbelief. "Okay, well if you can't massage me, I may have to knock off early and take care of some errands. I picked up a client and the gym today and need to check in with them." It wasn't like Felicity was a poor secretary, but when she didn't get what she wanted from me she pouted and knew I was helpless to counteract her. This was but another example.

Again, I somehow found the fortitude to stand up to her. "Okay, but you need to finish the Forsythe file first. It shouldn't take more than half an hour."

For the first time, I saw anger behind her eyes but looked away to try to avoid a confrontation. By now my body was shaking in need and quaking in fear. She had to be more than twice as strong as me. If she hurt me physically, given my fragile sense of self-worth and awe at her physique I'd probably applaud her.

"How about I drop it off on your desk later after my errands?" she said, trying to enforce her authority.

"Okay, that should work" I gulped, accepting a tactical-- or perhaps pyrrhic victory. Her eyes moved from me to my desk, and I thought I'd dodged a bullet. "You play tennis?" She asked, dumping a ball out of the can into her hand.

"Yeah, I love to play to get some exercise now and then. I'm not a superstar but I have a pretty good serve and backhand."

"Really? I'd like to watch you sometime." For a second I thought she was getting sexual, and I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow. "I've never played but I used to use these for my kind of exercise." She squeezed and the veins in her bulging forearms grew more pronounced instantly. "But now, I have to be careful with these or," she released the grip from all of her fingers except her thumb and pinky before gritting her teeth and bearing down just as she said, "they break." A pop reverberated around the room as the ball deflated under her pressure. The bulging cords of muscle in her forearms danced providing what could have been an anatomy lesson in strength and superior power.

"Oopsy, see what I mean." She tossed it in the air, and it landed with a thud on my desk.

I gulped, "yep." Yeah, pyrrhic at best.

"Okay, I'll take the file and then head out." Looking back on it now, I don't think she was threatening me. But perhaps she was solidifying her position in the office setting. I wondered whether avoiding the bliss of massaging her shoulders because of my guilt was worth it, but at least it set a precedent that in the future I could look, but not touch, or so I thought.