“Tell me about it”
“Well, I’m in my corner office on the 53rd floor. I’m at my desk…”
“What are you wearing, slut?”
“You’ll tell me properly if you know what’s good for you.”
“The suit is an Anderson & Sheppard basted fitting in a 15 ounce navy cloth, with alternating beaded stripes. The shoes-”
“Don’t be cute with me, bratty slut. How does it feel when you wear it, sitting your big chair. That oh-so-expensive cloth gently cupping your balls and cock as you talk with your mistress.”
“Stand up. Look out at the office floor, between the gaps in the frosted glass. How many people are out there?”
“A hundred, hundred and fifty maybe? I haven’t counted, I-”
“You know every one of them, because you picked them by hand. They’d all run through fire for you, big man that you are. With your five thousand pound suits filled with a cock that gets hard just thinking of the money they’re making for you. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of which ones you’d like to fuck across your big desk, both the boys and girls. Are you getting hard and drippy being told this, dirty bitch?
“Touch it. Rub it slowly. And shut the fuck up and listen as I tell you what I’m going to do.
“I’m coming down there with a big fucking pair of scissors – proper tailor’s shears – and I’m coming right into your office. You’re going to be waiting for me, standing, arms in front of you, leaning against the window, looking at me, holding out your belt. I’m not going to make eye contact with you yet, fucker – I’ll take that belt and turn you into the wall, hard, feel my weight at your shoulder, your face pressed into the cold glass as I cuff you with the belt like a kid in a drugs bust. Prissy, privileged white boy getting his collar felt, who’s going get some treatment before I’m through with you.
“So we’ll make the perp walk a bit easier, shall we? You’re going to whimper when you feel me push those bound hands higher up your back, but you’ll shut up damn quick when you feel the cold blade down the back of those expensive pants. I will cut through to the skin, you’ll shudder as you feel the blade pass between your ass cheeks and so close to the perineum you might mistake it for a tongue. Then, I’ll get furious. I’ll slash, tear and lacerate those fancy-pants and leave you exposed for the total slut you really are. No doubt you’ll get hard from me doing that, dirty fucktoy. But I’m not done by a long way.
“I’ll pull the jacket straight back, propping you up with my knee and stretch you. You’re going to feel my hands everywhere inside that Thomas Pink shirt. Pulling and pinching your slutty hard nipples, pressing at your throat and windpipe. I’m going to gouge strips so deep down your back you’ll think you’re wearing pinstripe skin. But you are going to fucking love it. As I push you up the window when I tear at that flesh, I know I’ll sense your swollen cock press against the glass, splayed, crushed, throbbing and seeping precum from its shiny head. Am I close to what you were thinking about, fucktoy?
“Don’t speak. Don’t say a fucking word. Keep rubbing yourself. Slip a finger inside those merino wool layers and feel the strain at your underpants. You’ll be ready to smash plates with that thing when I’m through with you. Feel it pulse. You want to let it out, grab it, wank it, feel that hungry flesh and my dirty tongue in your ear. But it’s going to stay there until I say, because your needs mean nothing. I need to hear you tell me you get this.”
“This is your cock, ma’am. I’m only here to serve you. Take me and use me.”
“Not today, Fucktoy. But soon. When you’re least expecting it…”