Fiona Flask - Anal - Three-Book Anal Erotica Bundle

I met him three months previous. I worked in the secretarial pool, for one of the lower level managers. It was his company, Tarbell Software, and I was low, low, low on the totem pole. I had seen Mr. Tarbell in passing. Entering and leaving the building. Going to a floor much, much higher than mine. But he didn’t notice me until a few weeks into my job.

I was filling out an Excel document when Mr. Tarbell came onto the floor with my boss, Gary. I was in shock when I was introduced to him. People that rich and powerful don’t seem like regular humans. They seem to walk on a cloud of confidence and privilege everywhere they go.

Mr. Tarbell shook my hand, and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lois. And welcome aboard.” I just about swooned. And there was something in his eyes, as well. He was too in control to have sneaked a peek at my cleavage, but there was something animalistic and hungry about his handshake, his words, and that look in his eyes.

It was a week after that when it happened. I was working late. The office was deserted except for me, my brown hair frizzy and my eyes heavy. I had been staring at the screen all day and I was trying to get something done before the weekend, but I was starting to go loopy. I was so bored. My mind started to wander to Mr. Tarbell, and his firm handshake and piercing eyes. I imagined how firm his grip on my ass might be. How his hot breath and tongue would feel on my pussy. My nipples hardened as I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair.

My fingers went to my nipples. I rubbed the sore peaks through the fabric and moaned. My other hand went under the hem of skirt. I closed my eyes. In my mind’s eye, I could see him buried in my cunt. I could feel his stubble very gently scratching between my thighs. A moan turned into a whimper as I slid my middle finger into my fast moistening slit. I spread my legs wide. My other hand tugged the buttons on my shirt open, and pulled down my bra. The cool air on my nipples made them harden all the more. I eased a second finger between my pussy lips. A wetness was spreading down my thighs, soaking into the fabric of the chair, but I didn’t care.

The rhythmic squelch of my fingers plunging in and out of me filled the air as I arched my back and cried out loudly. My breaths were ragged. Each plunge of my fingers eliciting louder moans. “Mr. Tarbell,” I choked out. “Fuck me.” As I orgasmed, it felt as though electricity was shot through my body. My muscles spasmed and I slowed my fingers and took deep breaths. I licked my fingers clean and opened my eyes.

Mr. Tarbell was standing right there.

I jumped, struggling to hide my body, throwing my skirt over my legs, and pulling my shirt back together as best I could. My face burned. Shit, shit, shit. How fucking embarrassing. “I’m sorry,” I said, stammering. “I’m sorry.” Few had seen me so naked, so exposed. A couple of old boyfriends, maybe, though I usually insisted on doing it in the dark. I had a hard time feeling sexy, given the wideness of my hips, and the extra pounds on my stomach. I was sure that the image of my jiggling fat would be revolting to any man. And here he had seen me, in the unforgiving fluorescent light, masturbating with my skirt pulled up and my shirt pulled down.

Mr. Tarbell looked unamused. “This is an office,” he said. “This is a place of business. Have you no self-control?”

“I don’t know what came over me,” I said, nearly crying. “It won’t happen again. I thought I was alone. Please. It won’t happen again.” I needed this job. If I got fired, I definitely wouldn’t make rent.

“This is unacceptable,” he said, disgust on his face. “You need to control your urges. You’re not an animal.” He looked around. “This offices reeks of sex.”

“I will control myself. I swear.”

“Self-control must be taught,” said Tarbell. “And it looks like it’ll fall to me to teach you.” He put his hand on the desk between us and tapped it for emphasis. “If you want to keep this job, you’ll do what I say, when I say it.”

“I will, sir.”

He pointed his finger at me. “Swear it.”

“I swear.”

“You’ve been a bad secretary. You’ve been a bad girl. You’re not to touch your cunt for two weeks. If you do, I’ll find out. If you do, you’ll be punished.”

I was shocked. My mouth was agape.

“Close your mouth.”

“Sorry.”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“You’re to call me sir,” he said, sternly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” Then he smiled for the first time. A small smile. And he boarded the elevator and left.

I heaved a sigh of relief. Had that actually just happened? I couldn’t believe it.

After the weekend, I came back into the office sheepishly, wondering if somehow everyone knew. The sight of my chair, the scene of the crime, made me feel sick with humiliation. There was a light stain, but it was probably only me who would notice it. After about an hour, though, I settled back into my rhythm and everything was as normal.

But at the end of the day, just before I was to leave, I got an email from Mr. Tarbell. It said:

Stay at your desk.

Nothing more. The nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach returned. Was he going to fire me? The thought didn’t make any sense, but the fear was real.

But I stayed at my desk. And when my boss and coworkers had all gone, Mr. Tarbell was there. He didn’t even say hello before he spoke.

“Did you touch your cunt?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

He narrowed his brow, annoyed.

“Sir.”

“Good.” He watched me sitting behind the desk for a moment. Then he put his hands on the desk. “Put your feet up on the desk,” he said.

I stared at him, confused. “What--”

“Do it now.”

I put my feet up on the desk, smoothing my skirt over my thighs and keeping my legs together.

He smirked. “Spread your legs.”

I bit my lip and did as he asked. He was staring straight at my crotch, now in full view. He leaned forward and reached toward my panties, grasping the fabric roughly and moving it aside. He looked at my naked pussy, and nodded. “Good,” he said. He thumbed my clit and slid his index finger slowly inside me. I gasped, and felt myself getting wet. I leaned my head back, eyes closed, and moaned.

Carlos greets me himself, warmly. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, tight against his muscles. His white teeth flash as he smiles at me. “How are we doing today?”

I sigh, but smile. “Not so great. My rent’s going up.”

Carlos’s mouth twists. “That’s just the worst, Erica. I’m sorry to hear it. They upped the rent here, as well. Everything goes up with inflation except income. Isn’t that just the way?”

I nod.

“Well, you can head right in. I’ll be with you shortly. Go ahead and get settled.”

I move past him into the private massage room and disrobe. There’s a shower and I get into it, allowing the hot water to run all over me. I rub the water into my skin and close my eyes. But misery follows me into the water. I try to put my increased rent from my mind, but it’s no use. I’ll be thinking about it until I figure out a solution.

After my shower, I dry myself off and lie down on the massage table, face down. I leave my ass covered by the towel. Soon, I’m joined by Carlos.

“Hey,” says Carlos. “I know you must be stressed. Do you want me to put on some music?”