Taking Notes

The ding of a Teams message wakes you from your daze. You gulp and look around, worried someone might have noticed you slacking. But no one is paying you a whit of attention. Not now.

“Come to my office to take notes. Leave the door open.”

You know what “take notes” means. The open door was new.

You sight as you stand, straightening your skirt and then grab a pad and pen, hoping it wouldn’t be too obvious to the other employees. The real employees.

You hear his booming voice before you reach his door. Options and puts and what else you didn’t know. But the bellow rattles the door. You turn the handle and open it as softly as you can.

He looks up at you and nods at a chair in the corner. You turn to pull the door somewhat closed behind you. He holds the phone to his chest so he can’t’ be heard.

“No. Leave it wide open. And put the chair there, facing the door,” directing you to the space at the far end of his desk.

You gulp, but nod. Barely brEathing out, “yes sir.”

You hold your breath as you move across the room. Just praying that you won’t attract attention from outside.

You’ve “taken notes” before. But never where you could be seen. Where the others, who whisper and giggle behind your back, but couldn’t be sure, could confirm what was apparent to everyone. You sit and set your pen and pad on the edge of his desk and wait. Hoping he’d change his mind. Even though you know: he wouldn’t be changing his mind.

He holds the phone to his chest again. “Well?” he asks, with a glare of impatience.

You swallow and breathe out. Trying to steady your pulse which is going wild, the blood pumping through your ears. You lift up your ass and shimmy the skirt up, exposing stocking tops but no panties. Those aren’t allowed.

He raises his eyesbrows at you, a small frown crossing his face. You try to plead with your eyes, but it gets you nowhere. So you do what you know you’d have to do, from the moment the compute pinged. You spread your legs, lifting one knee over the arm of the chair, and reach between your thighs to pull your pussy lips gently apart.

You lick a finger and begin to softly touch around your clip. Little electric shocks jolt you. He continues to talk loudly about asset allocation and liquidity challenges, pretending to ignore you as your fingers explore your cunt for his amusement.

Despite your fear of being seen, you become aroused and the sound of your fingers plunging in and out of your pussy are soon audible. You look up at him to see if the noise maybe bothers him. Hoping against hope he’ll let you stop.

Replace he habits with his chin toward the door. “Keep your eyes on the door,” he hisses and then returns to his call.

You ground your teeth together as you fuck yourself, your eyes looking out at the office but trying not to see it. “Don’t let them see me. Don’t let them see me,” becomes your chant. Your mantra as your wet becomes creamy. Coating your fingers.

He suddenly stands up. But you know better than to stop. He comes around the desk and stands behind you. Holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder, he pulls your jacket back and halfway down your arms, exposing your lacy-topped camisole. Soon he has the spaghetti strraps halfway down your arms too, joining the jacket. He reaches forward over your shoulders and pushes the top down, over your breasts.

Bras are also forbidden. Your hard nipples greet the door.

He continues to stand behind you. You feel the breath of his voice on your neck. His hand rests on your bare shoulder. Like he owns it. Which he kind of does.

The air moves around the room. The HVAC system must have kicked in. You feel it on your nipples as your thumb circles your clip again. You feel the orgasm growing. His hand is fidgeting with your shoulder, tapping his fingers as he talks. He brings the flat of his hand down with a loud slap, to emphasize a point. It startles you and as you refocus on your pending orgasm, you realize you’ve seen movement in front of the office door. Has someone seen?

His hand grips the back of your neck and his breath is in your ear. “Cum you little fucking slut,” he growls. And then immediately returns to his call. But it was enough.

You come. Gasping out your orgasm. Trying to stay quiet, but frankly doing a terrible job of it.

“Don’t let them see. Don’t let them see.”

You pussy is still spasming when he leans down and says, “good slut”. The warmth spreads across your chest.

You hoped he’d dismiss you. Instead he holds the phone to his chest again. “Open your mouth.”

He uses one hand to unzip his pants and fish out his half-hard cock, the other still holding up the phone to his ear.

He doesn’t have to tell you what to do next. You’re practiced. You suck it, mouth coming down and over the head and sucking it in. Coating it with spit and moving up and down.

You work hard to make him cum quickly, running your tongue up and over the underside while you suck. You hope he’ll cum and then let you close your legs. Or close the door. Anything that would keep you from being seen. You’ll have time later to ask yourself how you’ve come to this place in your life. Now you just suck. His free hand comes down with a smack on the closest breast. He pulls and twists and pinches the nipple, sending little shock waves to your cunt.

Now he’s thrusting as he talks. Light grunts escape from time to time as he stalls into your throat. The saliva spills over your lips and drips in foamy globs down your naked tits. Your pussy starts to throb with each thrust.

You begin to dissociate as he fucks your face. Little gagging noises become a repeated chorus and Your vision focuses to a point and then you float away. Your body takes over – suck, gag, breathe. Suck, gag, breathe. – but you are floating above the scene seeing your body work.

The spit flying. Your tits shakingwith each thrust. Your fingers have snuck their way back into your greedy cunt and are working it furiously. You are moaning as he uses you. You look like a whore. You would judge yourself if you looked in the office and saw you. Taking the boss’s cock and loving it. Gulping it down like a greedy cock slut.

Your mind drifts, imagining some other slut being the boss’s little whore. How it might end for her. So many possibilities, each more exciting than the last. You fixate on this image of yourself. The finger fucking in and out in time to the cock pushing into your throat. Your moans are a rising cadence and you and he forget the voice on the other end of the phone. Your boss is squeezing your breast so hard. And he grunts in time to his thrusts now. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

You snap back into your body, when your boss calls out the door, “Hey, get in here!”

You try to pull away. To get up, hide behind the desk, anything. But he holds you in place as a junior execwalks in.

He hesitates at the threshold, presumably embarrassed by the scene unfolding in front of him.

Your boss asks after an earnings report, acting as if you sitting there with your fingers in your cunt and his cock down your throat was an everyday occurrence. Which, in a way, it is.

The junior exec stutters and then slowly answers the question.

Your boss snorts. “What’s with you? You want some? She doesn’t care. She’ll fuck whoever I tell her to.”

The shame and humiliation rises up through you and meets a surprise orgasm in a crash. You shudder and moan like a little whore while the colleague watches, transferred.

“Maybe next time, then,” says your boss, as he pulls out of your throat and, with a grunt, sprays copious amounts of cum on your tits till they are coated and dripping.

After flicking the last drop into your cleavage, he grabs your hair and uses it to wipe off his cock and then shoves it back in his pants.

“Are you sure? Sheloves it,” he asks the junior exec who has been staring at the cum running down your chest and dripping off your nipples. The exec slowly shakes his head, “no.” So your boss motions to you to get up and go.

You struggle to shrug back into your top with the sticky mess all over your tits, and then grab your notepad and start for the door, trying to avoid the junior exec’s eyes.

“Hey,” says your boss. “You left some cum on the chair. Where’s he supposed to sit?” he asks gesturing toward the exec.

You scan the room for tissues but don’t see any. “I’ll be right back,” you say in a slow, dazed whisper.

“Now,” says your boss, impatient as always.

“I just …” you start. But at the look of disapproval your boss gives you, you Sigh and lower down to your knees in front of the chair. You dip your head and start to lap at the little pool of cum, licking and slurping till it is gone.

Then you stand and quickly make for the door, eyes down, wishing the earth would swallow you up.

“I’ll let you know when I need your ‘note taking’ skills again,” your boss calls after you with a snort. And you can feel your ears burn as both men laugh towards your back. As you softly shut the door, they are already talking about earnings and margin calls.

You sit back at your desk and place the notepad down. Smiling slightly to yourself you stick a finger down your cleavage and then lick it off. You think, “it’s a fast paced job, but it has its perks.”