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The Corner Office (sub/dom)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
The Corner Office (sub/dom) - [by Jame]
This is the story of a woman who attempts to use her body to get
ahead in her career. She meets a cold blooded man who's more
than willing to take advantage of this - once she's learned how
the boss is.
This story contains elements of female degredation and submissiveness. If
that bothers you don't read it.
Jame
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Jonathan Connors was one of the firm's most powerful junior
partners. His acceptance to the senior partner's board was
considered almost certain when Paul Irving retired next spring.
Connors was a tall, thin, hard faced man, who lived for the law,
and the manipulation of it.
He had fought, clawed, and worked his way up to his present
position over the past twenty years with the firm, and saw no end
in sight to his manoeuvring and politicking. Though the infighting
was fierce among associates, it paled in comparison to the
politicking among junior partners, and that itself was nothing
compared to the infighting and back stabbing that took place among
the senior partners.
Connors intended to chair the senior board one day, and
everything he did at the firm was aimed to advance his position
towards that goal. He was not proud of everything he had done to
get where he was, but had crushed too many men and ruined too many
careers to accept anything short of his goal.
He was sitting in his large corner office, the room brightly
lit by the floor to ceiling glass walls, and gazing at the young
associate standing in front of him, contemplating how she could be
of use to him.
The first way she could be of use was sex, obviously. Though
she stood there smiling demurely, she had made it more than clear
that her body was his if he so desired it. He did, in a way, but
not in the same way most men would have.
Kayla Gardner was twenty eight, and had worked at the firm for
just four years as an associate. Since she was a top graduate of
Harvard Law school. Her rise up the unofficial rungs of the
associates ladder had been only little short of meteoric, a sign of
a determined person, and a person who knew how to fight for what
she wanted and wasn't too concerned with methods.
Supposedly she was standing there before his oak desk to hear
his input on the case she was working on. He knew that wasn't true.
She was there so he could look at her, her and her expensive navy
blue business suit with its mini skirt that revealed just enough of
her exquisite thighs to excite, without bringing condemnation down
on her from the more conservative partners.
Her blonde hair was perfectly brushed and combed, shoulder
length, swept across her forehead from left to right, beautiful
without looking like she'd spent a lot of time on it. Now, as
always, even the roots were golden, though he was reasonably sure
she wasn't a natural blonde.
Her jacket was open, revealing her white silk shirt beneath,
and beneath that portion of the shirt visible, was the a outline
that was clearly a brassiere, colored black, or at least, a very
dark shade. That too, was meant to be seen.
She had a beautiful face, slim, attractive, with a tiny snub
nose that was probably the work of plastic surgery. Her eyes were
grey blue this morning, so she was wearing the contacts which
changed them from their normal brown. Her chest pushed out firmly,
leaving little doubt that she was well built in all areas.
She stood there straight backed, a respectful look on her
face, as though she was eager for any drops of pearly wisdom he
deigned provide her.
She was undeniably beautiful, and undeniably ruthless, and
those two qualities could make her quite valuable to him in his
constant battles with the other partners. And then there was her
pride. One did not achieve what she had at such an early date
without an incredible amount of pride in oneself.
And that was where he found her most attractive, for he knew
that for him, she would abandon all pride and dignity, grovel, beg,
do anything he wished, no matter how degrading. And power was what
he truly felt lust for, power over others.
He held the power that would strip this proud, beautiful woman
naked and make her beg for his attentions, and that, that was what
he found arousing, exciting. Other men might have lusted after her
body, but it was the control of her mind, and the domination of her
will that excited Connors.
He knew what she was after, of course. He was a rising star
and could pull her along with him. That was for the long term. For
the short term she was after the corner office on the sixty eighth
floor that had recently become vacant. All the senior associates
were manoeuvring towards it, for it brought prestige. It was a sign
of favour from on high, and thus brought with it a share of its own
power to be lorded over more junior associates.
Doling out offices was too insignificant a job to interest the
senior partners. It held a lot of interest to junior partners who
wanted to influence those under them, and after a nasty fight
Connors had won the assignment last year. So it was he they all
grovelled to.
Kayla Garner was not the first of the female associates to
offer him her charms in exchange for it. But, provided she
performed properly, he decided that she would be the one to get it.
He could use an aide with her intelligence, her beauty, and her
ruthlessness, provided she didn't have anything unpleasant like
ethics or morals that would hinder her.
He motioned her around the desk, his other hand under the
surface, flicking the button that locked the door. She smiled
inquiringly and came around to stand beside him. Connors looked up
at her with a knowing smile then reached for her wrist.
He gripped it tightly, pulling her down to her knees as he
swivelled his leather executive chair around to face her. Her face
showed a little surprise but she did not fight him as he forced
her to her knees before him. He held her wrist tightly, squeezing
it so he knew it hurt her.
She showed little sign of pain, though she swallowed several
times and seemed tense. He sniffed, then reached out with his free
hand and cupped her chin, lifting it upwards. She said nothing. He
slid his hand across her cheek and under her blonde hair, stroking
her neck and the side of her head.
Then he pulled her hand against his crotch, rubbing it firmly
up and down against his groin. She reached for his belt, slowly
undid it, then pulled his zipper down. Her soft hands reached in
and worked his cock out. It was still soft, though beginning to
harden as it felt her fingers around it.
He let go of her completely, sitting back in his chair and
eying her with a detached expression. He had no intention of
clouding his dominance of the woman with the thought that physical
force was what was compelling her to act. No, it was power that
made her do what she was about to do, power alone. He had no need
of physical force.
She gave him a sensuous look, then, holding his cock in both
her hands, she pushed her tongue far out and licked it up along the
underside, slowly, firmly. She did it again, then kissed the head.
He sat still, hands on the arms of his chair, watching without
expression.
She slid her lips over the head and took it into her mouth,
rubbing the lower part of the shaft as she slid her lips down along
its length. She began sucking, softly at first. Her tongue rubbed
against the underside of his cockhead, stroking that most sensitive
part of his organ.
It hardened within her mouth and she slid her hands off the
shaft, pushing his pants down a little to get at his balls. She
cupped them in her hands, massaging carefully as her lips slid up
g shaft. She let it slip free of her sensuous lips
and rubbed the saliva coated prick all over her face, moaning
softly.
It was an act, the moans, but a good one, and he gave her
credit for it. She bent forward again and sucked his cock up into
her mouth, bobbing her head up and down rapidly, her tongue sliding
against the underside. If she was nonplussed about his lack of
emotion, his failure to talk, she kept that to herself.
Another point, he thought.
She stopped sucking briefly, opening her lips and closing her
teeth around his cock just behind the head. She slid her mouth down
slowly, the teeth scratching lightly along his shaft, to give him
contrast when she sucked again. She had obviously learned how to
suck cock quite expertly.
She took her mouth off it and rubbed it across her face again,
softly sighing. She kissed the head, then sucked, opening her lips
a bit, then a bit more, sucking in the head, then, keeping the hole
in her mouth small, she pressed down and his cock forced its way
into her mouth.
Yes, she was quite good at this. He wondered if she knew how
to deep throat. She would before he was done with her.
He felt his cock sparkling with tension and knew he was about
to cum. No doubt she would swallow it. He didn't intend to allow
her that victory. He gripped her hair suddenly, very tightly. She
gave a gasp of pain but made no attempt to pull his hand free.
He began jerking her head up and down on his cock, forcing her
down far, then pulling her back up, leaving no doubt in her mind
who was in control here. As he felt his cum begin he jerked her
head back, pulling her lips off his mouth, replacing them with her
fist.
His hand was over hers, squeezing it down on his cock as
he/she pumped the cock once, twice, three times, four... then he
came, his sperm jetting out the tip and smacking into her forehead.
She gasped and tried to pull away but he held both her hand and her
head in place.
Wad after wad shot out and splatted against her face,
dribbling down her nose and cheeks and off her lips. He gave a sigh
finally, the first sound he had made, and pulled her face forward,
jerking her hand off his cock. He rubbed his cock all over her
face, rubbing his sperm into her pores, coating every inch from
forehead to chin with his juice.
Then he flung her back. She fell back on her back on the floor
and gasped in shock, staring up at him with wide eyes. He allowed
himself a brief, cold smile.
"Not bad," he said. "But I've seen better."
She flushed, fighting down an angry retort. He knew he'd
wounded her pride by his behaviour and his words both, but she was
saying nothing.
"Let's see what you have under those expensive clothes,
Gardner," he said. "Strip."
She swallowed again, eyeing him carefully, as though just then
realizing how dangerous a game she was playing. Backing out now
would be worse than not having come in at all. She would be
finished, and she knew it. She slowly stood up, trying to hold onto
whatever dignity she imagined she had left.
She removed her jacket, and placed it carefully on the
chesterfield. Her hands shook a bit as they worked the zipper on
her short skirt. No doubt she was fighting to keep from rubbing at
her face, which was glistened with the still wet cum.
She slid the skirt down her long legs, giving her hips a
little bit of a shimmy as she did so, and stepping gracefully out
of it. She threw it on the couch with her jacket, then unbuttoned
her shirt. As he'd suspected, she had a black bra beneath, and tiny
string bikini panties with a matching garter belt.
She stood there proudly for a moment, apparently regaining
some of her conceit and pride. She slid her hands up and down her
body, sliding her tongue over her lower lip as she looked at him
through slit eyes again.
He almost laughed. She no doubt thought that was sexy. She
still didn't realize it was the power that excited him, the power
over her mind and body both.
She slid her hands up and through her hair, posing, then
turned, showing him that instead of panties she wore a G-string.
She turned her side to him, raising one straight leg and putting it
on the couch as she reached down and slid to remove the high heeled
show.
She did it slowly, posing carefully, then slid down the garter
as well, and finally, rolled down the stocking. She turned and
smiled flirtatiously at him, then raised her other foot and
repeated the process. She put the foot back and turned to him,
undoing the garter belt and removing that as well.
He could tell that she was again confused. She hadn't expected
to have to strip completely. No doubt she'd expected a quicky on
the couch, perhaps with her skirt off and her blouse and bra open.
But that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted her utterly, every part
of her, and he wanted her to know that she was his to do with as he
chose.
With only a little hesitation, she reached back and undid her
lacy black bra, then removed it and put it on the couch with the
rest. She gave him an inquiring look, as if to ask if she needed to
remove the G-string. He raised his eyebrows and she bent forward,
sliding the small scrap down her legs and stepping out of it.
She dropped them on the couch and straightened, now looking
somewhat uncomfortable. She glanced at the door once, and though
she tried to keep her composure he knew she was somewhat worried
about what was going on. All she'd had from him so far was silence.
He smiled inwardly, watching her squirm. He made her stand
still for a full minute before he raised his hand and extended one
finger, then twirled it slowly. She swallowed again, then turned
around, showing him her behind.
"Spread your legs, Gardner," he said.
She spread them apart a foot.
"More, wide," he barked. She spread them wide apart. He
smiled, wondering what expression was on her face now.
"Bend over and grip your ankles," he told her.
Her body stiffened, and trembled slightly, as if she were
undergoing an internal fight, but then she slowly bent forward,
bending far down and gripping her ankles with her hands. She looked
back at him between her own legs, pretending to smile. Her face, he
noted, was flushed.
His eyes shifted from her face, up to her ass and crotch. Her
pussy hair was brown, he noted. He sat unmoving for long seconds,
then reached behind his head and scratched himself. He saw her face
flush an even deeper red.
He kept her like that another minute.
"All right," he said. "Stand up and turn around."
She did so gladly, sighing as she turned, but still trying to
look dignified. He would put a stop to that. He intended to use
her, but he intended to break her first. He would so thoroughly
humiliate her that she wouldn't think of crossing his will. Only
then would he be able to trust her... to a degree.
"Sit down, Miss Gardner," he offered solicitously, indicating
the chair in front of his desk. Now looking confused, she padded
across the thick carpet and sat uneasily in one of the chairs.
Not going as you'd planned. Is it my dear?
He smiled coldly.
"So you want to work for me, do you, Gardner?"
"Yes, sir," she said quietly.
"You'd like to share in my power, wouldn't you? You'd like me
to help you into the partners lounge, hmmmm?"
She regained enough of her composure to cross her legs and give him
one of those slit eyed looks.
"What do you want, Mister Connors?" she purred.
"For one thing you can open your legs again."
Again she looked surprised, and her face flushed a bit. She opened
her legs again.
"Wider, put them up on the arms of the chair."
She spread her legs, lifting her feet off the floor and
dropping her legs across the two arms of the chair. Again her face
showed signs of discomfort and worry.
You'll have to learn to control your face better, Gardner, he
thought. Drop a point.
"Much better," he smiled thinly.
He stared at her for a few seconds, then sat back in his chair
and put his hands behind his head.
"Let me see you masturbate, Gardner."
"W'd really startled her.
"Your vocabulary does not include the word?"
"No. I mean, of course."
"Then do it."
"Wouldn't you rather... " She gave him a coy look. "help me?"
she completed.
"Now, as always, I will tell you what to do and you will do
it."
Now she was blushing furiously, and he could see her
desperately trying to figure a way out of this. No doubt she
regretted ever coming in here. One of the older partners would be
so gratified to fuck her he'd be in and out in five minutes. She
probably wouldn't even have to remove her skirt.
"Let's see it, Gardner. Let's see how passionate you can be
with the one you love."
For a moment she seemed to think he meant himself, but then
she scowled, just for a brief second, realizing he meant her, that
she loved herself.
Then, defiantly, tilting her head to one side, she slid her
hands onto her breasts and began to knead them. Her fingers mashed
and twisted the perfect round globes, then one hand slid down her
belly and in between her legs. She rubbed herself, her finger
parting her cunt lips and sliding up and down the cleft.
She let her head fall backwards, slumping down a little more
in the chair, stroking her slit carefully as her other hand
caressed her breasts. She lifted her hand to her mouth and slid a
finger into it, then sucked on it, giving him her sexy look again.
Then she slid the finger against her cunt and wriggled it inside.
She pumped the finger in and out of her cunt, rubbing her clit
with her thumb.
She kept looking up to him, starting to get flustered as he
stared without reaction or expression. No doubt the thought had
occurred to her now that she was doing nothing but humiliating
herself before him and that as soon as she was done he would simply
fire her.
He was doing his best to look bored, but it was a good thing
she couldn't see his crotch, where his cock stuck out straight and
hard. He wanted her uncomfortable. He wanted her embarrassed. He
wanted her to lose her composure, her confidence.
She added a second finger to her snatch, pumping them harder
and deeper, rolling her head now as she moaned and sighed and
whimpered. Her ass ground down into the chair and her crotch humped
against her fingers, not energetically, that would have been too
much, just a little, just enough to convince some idiot man that
she was really getting off.
He pulled one hand from behind his head and glanced at his
watch. He saw out of the corner of his eye that she broke her
carefully maintained look of bliss. He looked back at her, the same
bored look on his face, and she quickly shifted her features back
into those of pleasure.
She pumped more erratically with her fingers though, and her
hand squeezed her tits, mashing the flesh rather than stroking it
erotically. Her skin was red and she was breathing hard and
sweating, but it had nothing to do with excitement. She was now
more convinced that he was merely humiliating her, probably so he
could tell everyone about it later.
She had no idea what to do though, so she kept on
masturbating, her motions not smooth, but jerky and graceless as
she trembled, both with fear and embarrassment. He yawned, then
looked out the window.
When he turned back she had stopped. She took her fingers out
of her cunt and slowly sat up, pulling her legs off the chair arms,
then standing up. She stood straight, her face angry, tight lipped.
She turned towards her clothes and he allowed himself a smile.
He reached into his desk and pulled out a key, then tossed it
onto the couch. It landed atop her skirt. She looked at it, then
turned and looked at him.
"That's the key to sixty-eight-twenty-nine."
She stared at it, then reached down and touched it, as if it might
fade away. She trembled visibly, then straightened and turned
towards him again.
"No. I'm not going to fire you, Ms. Gardner," he smiled
thinly. "Not yet at any rate. I may... may have some use for you."
"Come here," he ordered.
She stepped forward, her face still pale. He stood, slowly,
languorously, moving beside her. She did not meet his eyes as he
looked up and down her nude body. Then he grabbed her hair
suddenly, jerking her up and back. She gave a cry of pain as he
tore her hair and her hands scrabbled behind her head for his
wrist.
He held her there like that for a few moments, until she
stopped struggling and lowered her arms. She was trembling again,
her eyes wide, obviously frightened.
"Yes, I think someone like you could have innumerable uses,"
he grinned. "Including the obvious."
He slid his hand onto her belly, then, holding her firmly by
the hair, her back arched, chest pushed out, he stroked her soft
flesh, his hand sliding under her breasts, then in between then
around them, before finally sliding onto the firm rounded mounds
and squeezing.
He pulled his hand back, then jammed it between her spread
legs, gripping her pubic mound in a grip of steel, making her cry
out again as pain clawed at her.
"You remember this, darling," he said, his face, but not his
eyes smiling. "You remember just who is in command, just who gives
the orders and who takes them. If you cross me I'll see that the
only job left for you is fucking winos in dark alleys."
He jerked her forward suddenly, forcing her down onto her
knees. He let go of her hair and dropped behind her, gripping her
legs and jerking them wide with a sudden savage motion. He pulled
out his cock and pushed it against her slit, then pushed it inward.
He forced several inches of cock meat into the young blonde,
then gripped her hips tightly and thrust hard. She cried out for a
third time, then moaned weakly. He forced his cock into her all in
to the balls, then began to immediately hump against her.
He held her tightly, and rode her with violent movements that
he knew hurt her, wanting to hurt her, wanting the thrill of
knowing she would not protest, could not protest, could do nothing
but what he ordered, could only accept whatever he gave her.
His cock pounded down into her as he jerked her slender body
to and fro. His hips crushed her buttocks repeatedly as he skewered
her with his thick meat. He was going to leave bruises on her that
she would remember for some time, remember when she considered
double crossing him.
She winced and grunted and gasped from time to time but knelt
there like a she bitch being ridden by the pack leader. That was
the image that sprang to his mind and it drove him into deeper
waves of lust and violence. It was not the tight sucking motion of
her cunt against his prick that aroused him so, but the possession
and mastery of Gardner.
He knew her pride. He'd seen it often in others of her
calibre, knew it and relished its destruction, revelled in riding
her like a slut, like a dog, knowing how degraded she felt, down on
all fours being ridden so savagely.
If she thought that she could ever again be respected by him
now that he had fucked her on all fours, now that he had rutted his
cock into her fuck box and watched her asshole opening and closing,
she would have to be demented.
He gripped her hair again, jerking her head up and back as his
hips beat a vicious tattoo against her softly rounded buttocks. He
gripped her hair and twisted her head to one side, mashing his lips
down against her throat. She whimpered in pain and fear.
He laughed, throwing an even more powerful series of thrusts
into the blonde's cunt. His prick was spearing her with the most
violent thrusts he was capable of, and still she did not dare
protest. He shoved her head away from him, gripped the back of her
head and shoved her face down against the rug, jerking her ass up
with the other hand.
He laughed again, a cold, sneering laugh as he rode her to a
powerful orgasmic explosion, his steaming jism spewing down into
her fuck tunnel to slosh around in her belly like hot porridge. He
grunted a few times in pleasure, then pulled out with a sigh.
He gripped her hair again, pulling her face around to his
n.
He rubbed his cock through her hair, wiping off his cum, then stood
and pulled did his pants up. He went to a mirror in the corner and
brushed his hair, not looking at her.
"That will be all Gardner," he said in a dismissive tone.
Kayla knelt there for long seconds, panting for breath, then
slowly she rose, her legs rubbery. As if in a dream she dressed,
not able to look at him as he passed her by and went back to his
desk. He began to hum as he picked up a pen and started writing,
and didn't look up as she walked out of the room, key clutched
tightly in her hand.
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