Emily

 I'm still trying to make sense of the fact that I'm not recoiling.

 I'm responding.

 My hips shift involuntarily. My breath quickens. Thick, hot, danger coils inside me.

 And then suddenly, his finger plunges deep inside me, until his knuckles are pressed against my slick lips.

 A soft, broken sound escapes my throat.

 Oh God.

 It's a moan.

 I just. Fucking. Moaned.

 Nico lets out a low, quiet, cold laugh.

 "I'd ask again," he chuckles, "but I think we have our answer."

 My face crumples a little when he slides his finger out and then rams it back in; deep, hard, conquering. My eyelids droop and my nipples tighten against the glossy wood as his thick digit begins to stroke in and out of me. He curls it slightly against my front wall, stroking my g-spot as my legs tremble and shake.

 "Are you fucking anyone right now, Emily?" Nico purrs.

 My breath hitches. I don't respond.

 The sharp crack of his palm against my ass sends me jolting forward with a yelp.

 "Answer me."

 "N-no," I whimper.

 Not now. Not ever.

 "Good."

 His voice is raw now, hungry in a way that scares me. How much my body wants to hear it again scares me even more.

 Another finger joins the first, and I brace myself against the desk, biting down on my lip hard. The pressure, the stretch, the sheer wrongness of this situation-it should all horrify me. And maybe it does. But underneath that?

 There's heat.

 Shameful, desperate heat, building with every motion of his hand.

 My thoughts are jumbled. Part of me screams that I should recoil from his touch, especially since I didn't ask for it. After what happened at that photoshoot, I know this should be making me shut down.

 Instead, it feels like a balm smoothed over the experience.

 "You're so fucking tight," he growls. "Like you were made to take what I give you. I love that you feel you should hate it... But that's a tough sell when your greedy little pussy keeps sucking my fingers back inside like you want more."

 My mouth drops open, but no words come out. Just panting, broken sounds. I grip the desk harder.

 "Is that what you want, Emily?" he taunts. "More?"

 I whimper.

 There's no room for denial now. No space for thought. My body is trembling, slick with sweat and shame and something that I don't have the words for.

 Nico adds a third finger, and my world begins to blur at the edge. My eyes roll back like I'm possessed. My back arches, toes scraping against the floor and hips pushing back on their own accord.

 It's almost too much.

 But, God help me, I want it.

 "Look at you, taking these like you were made for them," he growls, ramming all three of his fingers into my wet, eager pussy. "Don't worry, Emily. I'll get this little hole nice and stretched so it can take my fat cock next time. You dancers are all about stretching, aren't you."

 My whole body tightens. The breath leaves my body.

 "Now: you're going to come on my fingers, and then you're going to thank me."

 It hits me like a bomb.

 A storm surge that breaks inside me with a wave of pulsing, helpless release.

 And suddenly, I cry out as I shatter.

 The orgasm explodes through me, wrenching my body as I twist and writhe. Nico's fingers plunge in and out of me, finger-fucking me all through the release until I'm shaking and gasping for air as my hipbones press tight to the edge of the desk.

 Nico's hand comes to a stop. My world is spinning, my vision still blurry as my lungs scream for air.

 "Well?"

 I blink, not quite able to form words.

 "Say thank you, ballerina," he growls quietly. "Thank me for letting you come."

 Hunger, vicious and raw curls inside me.

 "Th-thank you," I choke.

 Slowly, he pulls out his fingers. My body collapses, wrecked and shaking, on the desk. I can't breathe.

 "You may get dressed now," he says simply.

 I stand on shaky legs and reach for my clothes with fumbling hands. I still feel like I'm outside myself, watching someone else move. Not me, but someone who just let this happen, who didn't stop it, who moaned when he touched her.

 I pull my clothes back on, fingers trembling.

 He just watches me.

 "We're done for today," he says as he lights another cigarette.

 "But when I say you belong to me now..." He exhales smoke. "I hope you understand what that means."

 I say nothing. I still can't.

 "Next time," he adds coolly, "be shaved bare. And if you don't own better lingerie, don't bother wearing any at all."

 I nod, my face flaming.

 I leave, and the door clicks shut behind me.

 I'm shaking so hard, I can barely stand.

Naomi

 The moment i decided to follow Nicolas without his knowledge I prepared myself to see the worst.

 I wait for him to disappear before i continue following him.

 I slam against a wall.

 Dead end.

 I whirl around to run in the other direction⁠-

 And scream when a shadow lunges from the dark.

 A body slams into me, hard, ripping off my mask and whipping me around, slamming me face-first into the wall, pressing hard against my back.

 A hand wraps around my throat, sending adrenaline exploding like napalm through my body.

 "What the fuck are you doing here?" a voice growls.

 My breath stutters.

 I freeze.

 It's Nicolasa.

 His hand is still on my throat, not squeezing, just holding. Like he doesn't trust me not to disappear, or trust himself to let me go.

 "What the fuck are you doing here," he growls again, his voice even more edged and deeper.

 "I-" My voice breaks. "I saw⁠-"

 "Everything?" he finishes for me.

 I nod.

 His hard body clenches with rage behind me.

 With hunger.

 And then-I feel it.

 The sharp press of him, thick and growing, hardening against the curve of my ass through his slacks.

 My breath stutters, and my traitor body sparks to life.

 Knowing him. Needing him.

 Being so fucking familiar with him that it craves him as he pulls nearer.

 Unraveling me from the inside out.

 Except just as that feeling ignites inside of me, something darker, something angry, roars up to snuff it out with a black cloud.

 "Don't you fucking touch me."

 The words hiss through my clenched teeth as I tense against him. I shove back, as if trying to dislodge his weight as it pins me to the wall. But he doesn't move or even budge one inch. His hand stays tight on my throat, the other slamming into the wall beside my head.

 "I said," I choke, writhing under his grip. "Do not put your hands on me!"

 There's a pause. A throbbing, vibrating silence.

 "Excuse me⁠-"

 "You got dressed up tonight," I snap, still facing the wall with his hand around my throat and the achingly familiar heat of his body pressing into me. "You smelled like cologne."

 "I told you," he snarls. "I had a work thing⁠-"

 "Or was it a Melissa thing?" I blurt furiously. "Or maybe some other side girl?!"

 Nico goes still. But then, the short, dark laugh that rips out of him almost makes me scream in rage.

 "You think I got dressed up to go fuck someone else?"

 I push back against him, shoving off the wall, but his hand slams against the stone beside my head, caging me in.

 "I fucking saw your phone," I snap. "Don't act like I'm making shit⁠-"

 "This," he snarls, and I flinch as his muscles coil tightly and furiously against me. "This is what I was talking to Melissa about," he snaps angrily, yanking his phone out of his pocket with his free hand and shoving it in my face.

 The screen glows brightly in the dim, low light of the stone hallway he's got me pinned to the wall of. But as my eyes adjust to the glow, the image I'm looking at clears.

 Worn, ancient-looking pale satin pointe shoes encased in a velvet-lined display box, with a title above it almost like an eBay listing that reads:

 Pierina legnanie

 My brain stutters.

 Pierina Legnanie was an Italian ballerina who is still thought of as one of the greatest of all time. She played the dual Odette-Odile role in the infamous Imperial Ballet production of the newly revised Swan Lake in 1895, choreographed by two of the greatest choreographers ever, Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov.

 "I-what?" I stammer.

 "Melissa is a retired dance teacher, and now works as a broker for rare ballet antiquities," he growls. "She taught Bianca when she was five. She's almost eighty, for what that's worth."

 My pulse roars in my ears. I don't say anything. It's like I can't say anything.

 "Since you were snooping," Nico rasps in my ear. "You probably already know that I went to see her. That she thinks I'm the sweetest. That she loves the gift..."

 I shiver as his snarled breath traces like a blade over my jugular.

 "The ballet slippers," he growls tightly. "That I bought for you, by the way."

 I go still. Time seems to stutter for a moment.

 "Surprise," he mutters dryly.

 Holy...

 WHAT.

 His face moves closer to mine, his voice a lethal whisper now.

 "You think I could even look at another woman, when you exist?"

 My breath catches again.

 My heart flips.

 Because I want to scream. I want to apologize. I want to throw myself into his arms.

 But then his tone changes.

 Darkens.

 Flares into something else entirely.

 He presses harder into me, pinning my hips to the wall, his breath hot and sharp in my ear.

 "I told you this part of my life wasn't for you," he growls, his voice like a razor dragged across velvet. He presses harder on my back and pins me to the wall with his firm body. "You're too good for this," he rasps.

 I gasp when his hand pushes up under the hem of my stolen dress.

 "I-I'm not," I whimper in a broken whisper.

 "No," he breathes, voice guttural. "Not anymore, you're not."

 His fingers hook into the lace of my underwear and tears it down to my knees. I moan when he shoves my thighs apart, stretching my panties tight around them as he forces his hand between my legs.

 "Bad fucking girl."

 I'm already embarrassingly wet-confusingly so, given what I've just seen and experienced. But it's like my brain has short-circuited. Like I've become as broken, fucked up, and deranged as whatever it is I just witnessed.

 Try as I might, I cannot make myself be scared, or horrified, or numb.

 My palms flatten against the cool stone wall, my back arching before I can stop myself.

 Nico unzips roughly. The sound makes me whimper.

 Then, without any warning, he grips my hips and rams every fat, swollen inch of his huge cock into me from behind.

 Hard.

 I cry out, my forehead hitting the wall, and he stills, buried to the hilt.

 "Is this what you wanted?" he snarls. "To see what I am? To be part of it?"

 My answer is a moan.

 A sob.

 A scream that only he hears.

 He pounds into me, ruthless, raw, consuming. My legs tremble. My fingers scrape across the stone, seeking some purchase.

 "Fuck, baby. Your cunt feels even tighter after you've run from me. Stretch for me, baby. Let that pussy squeeze and strangle me like a good little cock slut."

 My jaw goes slack, my head swimming as my vision blurs. I pant against the wall, clinging to the rough stone as Nico fucks me like an animal-hard, rough, unmerciful. He reaches up and rips my dress half off, tearing the straps and letting them fall down. My nipples tighten, and I cry out as they press to the hard stone. His hands maul me, pinching and rolling my nipples as his cock rams into me over and over, sending me into an abyss as everything starts to tighten up.

 "Listen to that-so wet for me, so greedy. You're going to come all over my cock already, aren't you, baby?" I shudder, whimpering eagerly as he bites my earlobe hard. "You're gonna make a mess of my big fucking dick, aren't you?"

 He's not wrong.

 I am going to come already.

 It's all of it: the sheer madness of everything I've witnessed, the roughness in his touch and thrusts, the vicious way he's claiming me against the wall, pounding into me hard and fast in a way that ignites unhinged wildness in me.

 With a cry, my back arches sharply, my legs spasming and my body wrenching in pleasure. Nico holds me tight, pinning me hard to the wall, never slowing his powerful, deep thrusts...and I feel myself shatter around him.

 Moans fill my ears-his and mine together-as the orgasm explodes through me.

 Nico slows briefly as I suck in breaths of air. Then he slides his thick cock out of me, leaving me feeling empty.

 "I don't think bad little girls who break the rules get off that easily," he murmurs darkly. "So to speak."

 His hands grip my ass, fingers digging into the flesh. He starts to spread my cheeks, and when I feel the slick, swollen head of his cock drag up from my pussy, my eyes fly open.

 "Nico-!" I gasp.

 "You're going to take me here now. Just like this. Up against the fucking wall like the dirty little cock tease that you are."

 My eyes bulge, my mouth going slack. I hear him spit-fucking spit-and then feel it drip down my ass, where he smears it against my back hole with his dick.

 It should be fucking degrading, using his spit as lube to take my ass for the first time. It should feel demeaning and cheap.

 Maybe it does.

 So why are my legs shaking in anticipation? Why is my body quivering, nipples tight against the wall, with a fresh wave of slickness coating my thighs?

 "You're going to take my cock in your ass like a good girl, Naomi."

 My spine snaps rigid as I feel him rub his slick cock up and down, sliding the head over the impossibly tight ring of my ass.

 It's never going to fit.

 He's too big.

 I've never done this before.

 I've never even wanted to before. But right now, up against the wall, waiting for him to take this last part of me, I'm riding a high-and the sheer adrenaline and anticipation of something so raw and wrong and dirty has me aching for it.

 He pushes. The pressure builds against my tight hole, and it takes me a second to realize that the whining sound in my ears is me.

 Craving it.

 Desperate for it.

 Needing it in a brutal, dark way I can't explain.

 "Fuck me..." I choke as Nico's thick cock eases against my little hole.

 He groans behind me and spits on my ass again. I shiver, whimpering as I feel his fat cock spread the slickness over my asshole and then start to press in again.

 "Fuck you how," he snarls.

 "Rough," I blubber, nails dragging down the wall.

 "Where."

 Oh, God.

 "My ass..." I whisper, my breath catching as he starts to push in, adding more pressure. "Fuck me hard in the ass..."

 Suddenly, his head pops past my ring.

 I cry out, my jaw clenching, my face caving as pain and pleasure surge brutally through me.

 He feels fucking huge, like he's stretching me past my limits, like he's going to split me in half.

 "Nico-"

 "That's it, baby," he groans, leaning down and biting my shoulder sharply, making me gasp. "Just relax, and take my cock in your ass like a good girl."

 He slides in a little more, and my eyes roll back as red and black mist clouds my reality.

 It's so good.

 It hurts.

 I want more.

 Nico pushes his fat cock deeper.

 It's pain, and heat, and a fullness I've never even imagined.

 I can't breathe from the sheer force of him claiming every inch of me.

 He thrusts deeper, and I scream, muffled by his hand. Deeper, deeper deeper...his cock feels endless as he crams every inch up my ass until suddenly, my eyes fly wide and my mouth drops open as I feel his heavy balls against my pussy.

 Holy. Fuck.

 It burns. It aches. It breaks something in me.

 But it's not pain that brings me close to tears. It's the way he groans-low, triumphant, like he's finally home.

 His mouth brushes my ear. "You feel that?" he growls. "That's me taking the last of you."

 My knees shake. My nails scrape the wall. He slowly drags his thick cock out of me, my ass clenching tight around him. Then, with just the head inside, he starts to work it right back in, wrenching a low, guttural moan from my throat.

 Suddenly, the pain begins to melt just enough to make room for something else, dark and obscene and electric.

 Pleasure.

 My hips push back a little.

 His hand slides from my mouth to my throat.

 "You're taking my cock in your ass like such a good girl, Naomi," he groans. "You're going to feel me here for days, ballerina. You're going to remember how fucking mine you are with every step. This slutty little fuck-hole's been waiting for me to take it, hasn't it?"

 I'm drowning in a mix of pleasure and pain that's taking me places I've never been before.

 I can't speak, can barely breathe.

 Most of all, I just want more.

 Nico is happy to oblige. He fucks me like he means it. I moan his name and cry out for more. He grips my hips, pounding harder, faster, deeper, until my body shakes and wrenches.

 I'm going to come.

 I'm going to come with his cock in my ass.

 "Look at you, baby. Such a dirty little anal slut. You're going to come like this, aren't you? Greedy little thing, squeezing my cock with that back hole, making your pussy jealous."

 His thrusts grow rougher. His breath turns ragged.

 My whole reality shifts and blurs.

 "That's my good girl," Nico snarls into my ear as he buries his cock deep inside my ass. "Taking it so good. Taking it like a such a fucking good girl."

 It's like pulling a trigger. The second the words leave his lips and purr into my ears, my whole body writhes and shatters.

 The scream that rips from my throat is both unholy communion and sweetest deliverance. My entire body spasms, my nails clawing against the stone as the orgasm explodes through my core.

 Wave after wave crashes into me as I hear Nico groan. He grabs my hip hard with one hand and wraps a hank of my hair around the other as he buries himself balls-deep in me, muscles clenched hard at my back.

 And then he pumps his hot cum into my ass, growling against my skin, both of us collapsing to the stone wall.

 He doesn't let go. Just holds me there, arms wrapped around my chest, his breath warm against my neck.

 When he finally moves, he turns me gently, pressing his forehead to mine.

 Then he kisses me, hard and fierce.

 Like he's sealing something.

 "Mine," he murmurs.

 And I think, somewhere in this madness we've wrapped ourselves in...

 He's mine, too.

Chris

I know how wrong this is. Hell, I've known for weeks and yet it didn't stop me.

I stare at her. Her pale skin and plump lips part as she looks around nervously-- trying to avoid my gaze.

I drop my glass on the table and she flinches when the whiskey spills.

She lets out a gasp, sharp and high in her throat, like the cold shocked her nerves and jolted her brain back into her body.

Slowly, I turn to her.

There's something so goddamn beautiful about this moment-her bare skin shining under the office lights, knees red from the hardwood floor, the curve of her spine glistening with the line of liquid sliding down it and over the tight swell of her ass.

Her hands are still bound behind her by the white silk ribbon, wrists crossed at the small of her back. Knees spread.

And her face...

Her face is perfectly wrecked, ruined beauty: eyes wide. Cheeks flushed. Lip bitten raw from nerves, or trying not to beg. Maybe both.

Probably both.

I let the silence stretch out before I reach down, pluck the glass from her back, and set it on the desk.

Then I stand and roll my neck.

"Up," I say, voice monotone.

She looks at me, staring, like she didn't quite hear.

I raise a brow. "Stand up, Nessa."

She struggles a little, her body stiff from kneeling, but she gets to her feet. Her shoulders curl in on themselves, trying to shield what's already been exposed.

I step behind her and reach for her shoulders. She shivers when I touch her.

Good.

I press one hand between her shoulder blades and push forward until her chest hits the desk.

"Feet apart," I say. "Back arched. Don't fucking move."

She trembles but obeys.

I let my hand hover over the curve of her ass.

"You spilled my drink," I say casually.

"I'm sor⁠-"

"I didn't ask for an apology."

She clamps her mouth shut.

"Count," I say.

Then I bring my hand down.

The sound echoes sharply through the office.

"One," she choke-whispers.

I smile.

I like that broken, wrecked, whimpered sound.

I spank the other cheek, letting the sting blossom and her skin turn pink beneath my palm.

"Two."

Her voice wavers.

I keep going. Spank after spank after spank, alternating sides. Letting my hand linger just a little longer after each strike. Watching her unconsciously wriggle and arch.

Squirming.

Like her body is fighting itself, trying not to come apart.

And fuck me, is it mesmerizing.

I glance past her shoulder, looking at her cheek pressed flat to the desk, eyes squeezed shut.

Her mouth is open, her breathing ragged. And that bottom lip-bitten red and trembling.

That doesn't look like a woman being punished to me.

That looks like a woman desperately trying not to come.

I growl low in my throat, bringing my hand down harder than before.

"Keep counting."

"Nine," she gasps with a hitching sound.

Without warning, I slide my hand between her thighs. I grin instantly when my hand cups her pussy.

She's fucking soaked, her heat pulsing against my hand. I slowly run two fingers through her slippery wet lips, then pull them away and show her.

"Look," I growl, holding them close to her. "Dripping," I murmur. "And all over my desk, too."

She keeps her eyes shut, and her face turns a deeper shade of red as a needy sound whines in her throat.

I lean in, my mouth near her ear.

"Tell me why that is, ballerina."

She shakes her head.

I tsk. "No answer? Well, maybe you'd like to hear my theory."

I slide my fingers back between her thighs and slowly begin to rub her clit.

"I think you're dripping all over this desk because you like being punished. Used."

She whimpers under my touch. My reply is to sink two fingers into her wet cunt. Naomi chokes on a moan, toes twisting against the floor as her hips writhe.

I curl my fingers just enough to make her gasp.

"I haven't even fucked you yet, and your pussy's already acting like it's mine."

I lean in closer, letting my words sink into her skin.

"Keep pretending you hate this, Nessa. I'll just keep proving you wrong."

Her hands are still bound behind her back with the ribbon. Her body is quivering from the spanking, from shame, from the feeling of my fingers sliding through her soaked pussy, filling the room with the wet sound of her lies.

And I haven't even really started yet.

"Get back on the desk," I say quietly.

She hesitates, blinking rapidly. Then she scrambles up; it's a little awkward with her wrists still tied. I step in and catch her when she nearly slips, gripping her by the waist and hoisting her like she weighs nothing.

Her skin is fever-warm. Her thighs tremble as I make a few adjustments, positioning her exactly how I want her.

Like my own personal little fuck toy.

When I'm finished, she's lying on her back across the desk, her feet flat against the surface, knees raised.

Legs apart. Completely open for me.

Completely mine.

I look down at her-at the flush spreading over her chest, at her dark, rosy nipples, tight and aching, at the pure, trembling need etched across her face even as she valiantly tries to hide it.

At the pinkness between her thighs, and her swollen, glistening pussy.

I reach down and undo my belt. Naomi's eyes go wide and her mouth hangs open in a mix of shock, nerves, fear, and lust as I undo my pants, reach inside, and wrap a hand around my fat cock.

"Are-" Her words catch as her face flames. "Are you going to fuck me?" she whispers.

It's a little fearful.

A little bit innocent.

And hugely desperate.

It breaks something in me.

She doesn't know what she's asking for, not yet.

But she will.

I pull out my swollen, thick cock, my hand wrapping around the base and giving it a slow stroke.

Naomi's jaw fucking drops, her eyes lasering in on my dick as I grin smugly.

What can I say? I'm blessed.

...And pierced, while we're on the subject.

Naomi sucks in a breath so sharp she could cut herself on it, staring at my cock.

I just stand between her spread legs, stroking myself, letting my gaze drag over her flushed, trembling, taut body.

Slowly, I bring my cock to her pussy. I don't push inside. Not yet. I just let her feel it as I roll my hips and glide my swollen shaft through her messy lips.

Her hips twitch upward, as if her body's trying to pull me in all on its own.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

She bites her lip so hard, I think she might bleed.

"No," she breathes.

I spank her ass. Hard.

"Lying earns more punishment," I say darkly. Then I lean over her, letting my cock rub along her slick, hot little pussy again.

"But no," I murmur, mouth brushing her ear. "I'm not going to fuck you..."

I smile as her thighs tense, her hips shifting under me.

"Not yet."

She whines in the back of her throat.

"I am going to come using one of your greedy little holes, though."

I lean back, grinning inwardly as I watch her try to process that as I move around the desk, slowly and steadily.

She keeps her eyes on me, following my every move until I'm standing behind her head, her body still laid across the desk, feet planted on the wood, knees apart, wrists bound, hair spilling like ink over the edge.

I brush her cheek.

"Open your mouth, ballerina," I say.

Naomi's eyes are wide open, starting at my throbbing cock. She nervously chews at her lip again, but I notice the way her nipples harden even more. The way her thighs clench.

The glistening, dripping arousal between them.

"Of course, if you'd rather," I murmur quietly. "That plug has probably stretched you out enough that I might be able to cram my fat cock up your tight little asshole, if you'd like to go that route instead..."

Naomi flushes dark red.

But she doesn't look at me furiously, or with horror, or distaste. Just like she's desperately trying to hold something back.

Slowly, she shifts and drops her head back, letting it hang over the edge of the desk and opening her pouty, soft lips.

Her gaze meets mine, and something deep and helpless in it shudders.

"Good girl," I murmur, running my thumb along her top lip before sliding it into her mouth.

She moans softly as I press it against her tongue.

Then I pull it out and grip her jaw with one hand, the other wrapped around the base of my cock.

Her mouth stays open, waiting.

Wanting.

"Eyes on me," I say quietly.

And then I slide in: just the head at first-thick, hot, stretching her lips wide as her eyes bulge in surprise.

Fuck. Me.

I bite back a deep groan as her lips wrap around my head. As her tongue tentatively licks the very tip, toying exploratorily over my piercing.

Fucking fuck, I think I just fell in love with this mouth.

Instinctively, I rock my hips forward, groaning again as her jaw stretches to its limit. She gags slightly when I hit the back of her throat, but doesn't pull away.

God, she's so clearly not very practiced at this. I can feel it in every hesitant flick of her tongue. But there's no hesitation in her eyes.

Only heat. Shame. Desire.

I thrust a little deeper. Her eyes flutter, her throat tightening as she sputters slightly. Spit and precum bubble where her lips are stretched taut around my cock.

I begin to fuck her mouth in slow, deliberate strokes, one hand gripping her hair, the other steadying her head.

I'm not gentle.

I'm going to push her.

I'm no sadist, but this is about control. It's me using her exactly how I want-and her letting me.

Spit dribbles down her cheeks as she chokes and moans around me, her jaw opening wider. Her brows knit when I slide deeper, pushing into her throat. She gags again, a broken sound echoing in the space between us.

I don't stop.

I twist my fingers in her hair, wrapping my other hand around her throat to pull her slightly closer and angle her head perfectly.

"Look at you," I rasp. "Taking my dick like a good little fuck toy. Like a greedy, eager little cocksucker."

She moans around me, eyes fluttering closed for just a second-then opening again, wild and hazy.

Her tongue is everywhere. Her lips suck greedily. She's drooling on her own neck and she doesn't even realize it.

My hand slides over her chest, palming her breast. Her nipple is hard as glass, and I roll it between my fingers, grunting when her body arches, even in this position.

I slip my other hand down, between her legs, to her clit.

She jolts. Moans. Whimpers.

I grin.

"What a hungry pussy," I taunt, fingers rubbing tight circles over the little bundle of nerves that has her trembling. "Making such a fucking mess, like a good girl."

She moans around my cock, shuddering. Her tongue begins to work faster as it swirls around my swollen head.

"Say thank you, Nessa," I groan. "Thank me for your punishment. Say 'Thank you, Sir, for wrecking me'."

She groans deeply, eyes rolling back in her head as she hollows her cheeks around my cock. She mumbles words that might be what I just told her to say. Either way, the vibrations from her attempts have my balls drawing up tight.

Fuck, I could come just from watching her pretty lips struggle to take it all.

I reach over her with both hands now, plunging two fingers from one into her pussy, sliding the other down to grip the base of the small plug. Her whimpers grow louder, needier, and more desperate as I start to twist it slowly, letting the friction tease her ass.

She doesn't just moan. Doesn't merely whimper.

She goes berserk.

Nessa starts to writhe and shake and shudder. Her knees tremble, her toes curling against the edge of the desk as I stroke two fingers in and out of her dripping wet pussy and twist the plug in her ass.

I groan deeply, ramming my cock into the back of her throat. She hums and moans around me, sucking wetly and loudly, the wet, squelching sound of my dick fucking her mouth filling the office.

I can feel it...the clench. The shift in her breath. The stuttering tension in her legs.

Then she breaks, like a wave crashing against the shore.

Her spine arches and a cry of release wrenches from her throat as her mouth goes slack around my cock. A high, strangled sound escapes her, muffled and desperate, and then her whole body seizes up, the orgasm ripping through her like a live wire.

She's coming.

From my fingers on her clit. From my cock down her throat. From the shame. The control. Me.

And I lose every shred of restraint I had left.

I grip the sides of her face and fuck her mouth harder, deeper, groaning through gritted teeth as my own release barrels down on me.

When it hits, it's like a bomb.

hips jerk forward, my cock pulsing between her lips as I spill into her mouth. Her throat tightens around me as she struggles to take it, and the sight of her-spit-slicked, cheeks wet, eyes wide and mascara running, the last traces of surrender-hits me harder than anything ever has.

With a final groan, my balls empty the last of my sticky cum down her throat, and I slowly pull out.

Something dark and twisted deep inside me revels at the mess I've made of her.

Her lips are red and swollen. Her makeup is trashed. Her chest rises and falls in sharp, heaving bursts. She's covered in cum and spit.

She swallows.

Then her eyes lift to mine, and I feel that thing I've been trying not to name welling up.

Not lust.

Not power.

Something much, much worse.

I should say something cold. Dismissive. Cruel, even. Push her back down into that shame spiral to keep the upper hand.

Instead, I hear myself say, "You'll never belong to anyone else. Understand?"

She doesn't speak, just nods, eyes still locked on mine like I've taken something sacred from her. Maybe I have.

I tuck myself back into my pants. Adjust my cuffs. Reclaim the distance.

I don't really know what the fuck just happened between us. But the game has changed. I'm not the same man who walked into this room an hour ago. And she's not the same girl I told to strip and be my side table.

Nessa slides weakly off my desk, not meeting my eyes as she twists herself free of the ribbon. I turn to catch her about to clean her face off.

"Don't."

She stiffens, turning toward me. I shake my head as I hand her back her clothes.

"Don't what?" she says quietly, still not really looking at me.

"Don't wipe it off," I growl. "Leave my fucking cum right there on your face. And keep it there for the rest of the day."

This time she does look at me, her jaw dropping.

"What?" She shakes her head. "I can't⁠-"

"You can. And you will. So that everyone who sees you knows you're spoken for," I murmur darkly.