I can’t believe I’m finally getting what I’ve been craving for months. My boss, that cold-hearted bastard, always acted like he was untouchable. But now, in his own office, I’ve got him bent over his mahogany desk, his fancy suit jacket torn open, exposing his pale, twitching back. He tried to resist, but my grip on his wrists was iron. “You think you’re better than me?” I growled, pressing my cock against his tight, virgin hole. He whimpered, but I didn’t care. I shoved in, feeling his walls clench around me, fighting the intrusion. “Take it, you martyr,” I hissed, pounding into him without mercy. The sound of my balls slapping against his thighs echoed off the glass walls. His secretary’s picture on the desk stared at us, but I didn’t give a damn. This was about power, about breaking him down until he begged for more.
He tried to mumble something, but I shoved his face into the leather blotter, muffling his protests. “You love this, don’t you?” I taunted, driving deeper, hitting that spot that made his legs shake. His hands clawed at the polished wood, leaving sweaty streaks. I could feel his resistance crumbling, his body betraying him as his hips started to push back against mine. “That’s it, you fucking slut,” I snarled, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back. His eyes were glazed, tears streaming down his cheeks. But I saw the hunger there too. The need to be used, to be dominated. I didn’t let up, fucking him harder, faster, until his whole body convulsed with a silent scream.
After I came, I pulled out and watched my seed drip down his thighs. He collapsed onto the desk, panting, his ass red and gaping. I zipped up, leaving him there like the used whore he was. “Clean yourself up,” I ordered, walking out without a backward glance. But I knew he’d be back for more. They always are. The taste of submission is addictive, and I’ve just given him his first fix.
