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OVERTIME

A sensuous forced consent story with a fairly nasty surprise at the end.

OVERTIME

by

 

Dulaney Browne

 

 

 

 

 

            She had no choice. The demands were ridiculous and the pressure intense. She was up against deadlines and there were still discrepancies in the balances. It was her job to find and correct them. The audit would be the end of this week and her boss had been an asshole about the whole mess.   There were so many other things she’d rather be doing than working overtime: having fun with her friends; shopping; even curling up with a bowl of popcorn and her boyfriend with a movie in the DVD player.

            She had dated Kevin for about two months. He worked in her building, but they met at a street vendor’s wagon during a break. She had managed to drop a big gloob of ice cream on some file folders he had laid on the top of the stainless steel cart. There were apologies, then small talk, and somehow they wound up exchanging phone numbers and email addresses. On their first date, he took her to dinner, then a movie, then to an ice cream parlor where he shoved the placemats aside and sat their bowls on a pair of manila file folders. She thought it was hysterically funny.

            From that moment she knew she liked him. He was easy to be with. They enjoyed the same kind of movies, laughed at each others’ jokes, and they both liked to try new and different things. He was ten years older than she was. But she really liked his maturity. He had an air of experience but he wasn’t arrogant or old about it. He just had a way of teaching her things. All and all, she couldn’t say she was falling in love with him, but she couldn’t help feeling a little giddy when she thought about him. Their relationship was already at that “serious” stage.      

            She tabulated figures as the numbers blipped away on her computer screen. But there were still errors in the columns and she had to hunt them down. She was having a hard time concentrating anyway. Kevin was due back tonight. He was in Chicago for a week on business and had sent her an email saying he hoped to get a late flight home. She wished she could meet him at the airport, go to dinner with him, give him a warm welcome home. But noooooo. She had to work into the wee hours, doing this shit.

            The high rise office building she plodded away in was almost deserted. She was alone in her dreary cubicle. But she felt safe. There were security guards on the first floor and no one could get by them without flashing a badge. The doors to the office suites were also secured with cyber locks; and the only way to get in was with a swipe of an employee badge. No worries.

            Her cubicle was on the forty-third floor. On the rare occasions when she found herself stuck at work late, she loved to sneak a few minutes here and there to look out the massive windows at the twinkling lights of the city. She could see the glow from the offices in other high rises and she liked to imagine what other people were doing. Working? Gossiping? Making love? She also loved to watch the interstate. The little orbs of white and red lights fascinated her. They were like strands of exotic living pearls, moving back and forth across a span of strings.  

           But none of that tonight. She sighed. It was just tappity tap tap on her keyboard as she ran her spreadsheets and balances and account vouchers.

            She froze when she felt the hands on her shoulders. A cold spring of fear jolted through her body. She gasped, held her breath, then almost consciously reminded herself to breathe again.

            Then it occurred to her that Kevin had caught his plane and came directly to the office to surprise her.

              “Kevin? Is that you?”

            “Yeah, it’s me,” he whispered. She smiled and relaxed a bit. His hands were not hurting her. But they were firm on her shoulders, not tight, not squeezing, but….solid. And they were holding her where she was.

            She was a bit startled by that and didn’t know what to do. She wanted to turn around and embrace him, let him embrace her, kiss him. But she didn’t…she couldn’t. She just sat there with his hands on her shoulders, frozen, waiting.

            “How was your trip?” she asked lamely.

She tried to turn around but he stopped her.

              “Shhhh,” he whispered. “Just relax.”

              The voice was a low whisper. It could have been anyone’s: Kevin’s, Clint Eastwood’s, someone with laryngitis. His hands kneaded her tired shoulders, gently massaged her stiffness and aches. It felt good. She wanted to turn around and see what he was up to. But his hands were soothing, calming. She had work to do….but she gave into the moment and closed her eyes. She felt the tension slowly drain from her tired muscles, her stiff neck. She let her head droop and sighed: “Mmmmmmmmm.”

              Kevin’s fingers worked their way along her spine, pushing, rubbing, touching her where she needed to be touched. He had massaged her before, but they were half-hearted efforts, usually a quick prelude to sex. This time he was really putting himself into it. Jesus, he had a way with his hands.

              His fingers stopped on her back and pushed up, lifted, urging her to stand. Somehow, she was on her feet. She heard him push her chair away. It rolled across the plastic floor cover and out of her cubicle and bumped into something. His hands again worked their way over her back, not massaging her this time, but gently caressing. She felt them thru the sheer material of her top, working their way over her shoulders, and sliding down her body, his arms encasing her.

             “Kevin…..” She was going to protest, ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. He was acting weird. Something told her she should put an end to this. This wasn’t the time or place.

            “Stop….” But she wasn’t even sure she had uttered anything when he said again in that low whisper “Shhhhh…don’t say a word.” His warm breath against her neck made her skin tingle. Her breathing deepened. She felt, well…. watery. She had told him about her sexual fantasies before he left for his trip. She fantasized many times about being taken, being forced by an anonymous man, being had in a forbidden place. Kevin had smiled, raised an eyebrow, and said it was “intriguing.”

            His arms were around her, his hands cupped her breasts. He pulled her close and held her to him, swayed with her gently back and forth, a slow dance without music. “Stop him,” a voice in her head mumbled. This was not fantasy; this was real life. She knew she should stop. But it was a feeble protest. He had her.

            Her head fell back against his shoulder. She closed her eyes and offered her neck to him. He nuzzled her hair, nibbled on her ear with his soft lips. She pushed him with her ass, rubbing it against his pelvis. He pushed back. He was large, solid, stiff. Overpowering. She didn’t resist, couldn’t resist anymore.

            He slowly pushed the buttons of her blouse through the tiny holes. She shivered when the silky material slid over her skin and dropped to the floor. His arms engulfed her as he slipped his hands under her bra and fondled her breasts. She wanted to help him, to take her bra off for him, to give him access to her. But he held her too tightly, her arms pinioned to her sides. She could only put her hands on his forearms as his fingers played lightly with her hardening nipples.

            She was only vaguely aware when her bra came off and lay on the floor with her blouse. She moaned when Kevin’s lips kissed, nibbled, and brushed along her neck. His hands moved slowly down her body as she felt him taste her. He touched under her breasts, down her stomach, slipping his thumbs into the elastic waistband of her slacks and panties. Desire began to grow in her, a thing all of its own, taking over her body.

            She felt a heave downward and the rest of her clothes slipped over her hips and lay around her ankles.

“Kevin, no…….” she whispered.   

                 Then his arms let her go. She thought the game was over, thought perhaps he was having second thoughts. She was both extremely relived and very disappointed. But his body still held her against her desk. Suddenly, it was dark. Her breath caught in her throat, a small half gasp, as a blindfold closed over her eyes. It was a wide strip of material, soft, black, depriving her of sight. The utter darkness accentuated his touch. His hands traveled down her arms and pulled her wrists behind her.      

                  A ratcheting sound. Metal. Hard and warm around her wrists. Handcuffs. His hands on her shoulders, tender, caring, somehow reassuring her. But she was in Kevin’s control. She had never been so frightened, had never been so intrigued. And never so turned on. She was embarrassed at how utterly wet she was.

            He bent her over, gently lowered her torso to the top of her desk. The faux wood was cold. Her breasts scrunched under her and the cold desktop was painful on her hard nipples. Her hips draped over the desk, her toes barely touched the floor. But Kevin had her where he wanted her. She wanted Kevin too—inside her.  

            His hands rubbed her ass, squeezed it. She raised her hips, wantonly offering herself to him. His fingers swept lightly over her butt, tickling her, teasing her. She flinched when one finger swept between her thighs, deliciously close to her wetness. She bit her bottom lip as he traced her swollen labia, his slick fingers gliding over her.    

            Then one of his fingers slid into her. She tried to push against him, to get him in deeper. But his other hand pushed her ass down hard and held her in place. He moved his finger in her, sliding back and forth, a smooth, slow motion. With each stroke he pushed a bit further until his other fingers brushed against her wet lips. She let out something between a sigh and a moan. She tried to sway her hips side to side, tried to move them up and down, anything to encourage him for more. She was ready, wanted Kevin to fill her. But his hand held her ass too firmly.

            All she could do was give into him, let Kevin have his way. They had made love only twice. It had been satisfying but…ordinary. That didn’t matter to her now. She was blindfolded, bound, excited, and she was his. She was there to do as Kevin wished. She so belonged to him.   

            His finger probed deep inside her, touching her in places no one had ever touched before. His finger moved forward, down, stopped when it came to her hard little nub. Her clit was hungry, starving. PLEASE!!   She felt him almost touch it then draw away.

              “Noooo…….Kevin…” she whimpered.

               A rush of desire—an animal thing—blew through her when he opened her pussy and inserted two fingers. There was no gentle probing this time, no exploration. Two fingers surrounded her clit. They moved quickly, rapidly.

            She groaned. Her body tensed. She was astounded at how quickly it built inside her: a freight train of impulses and sensations. Dimly, she thought Kevin’s hand was moving impossibly fast. Then the first spasm hit her.

              She gasped. Her body bucked, her toes pointed, she pulled at the cuffs and her fingers clenched at nothing. He held her down as spasm after spasm gushed through her. He masturbated her, vibed her, moved her, made her cum, once, twice, a hundred times for all she could tell.

            At last, when she could take no more, he stopped. She was spent. He pulled his hand slowly out of her most intimate place. She gasped as he gently withdrew. She was weak, exhausted, elated. Her heart pounded and she could literally hear it beating. God!! GOD!!

            She lay prone across her desk, coming only slowly to herself again. She sensed Kevin moving around behind her. She wanted nothing more than to be held now, to be in his arms. Too see Kevin’s face. To hear him whisper her name in her ear. But she didn’t move. She was still.     

              One of his hands moved up her back. It clenched her neck. Not tightly, but firmly. Holding her down on the desk.

            Then she felt him. Hard. Insistent. Probing. Moving himself over her pussy, lubing himself with her juices. He pushed in, opening her, entering her slowly. Not deeply. He held himself there, just inside her. She thrust her hips to invite him in. But he pulled back. She realized Kevin was toying with her. He pushed a bit deeper then. Not all the way. Just enough to build impossible desire in her once more. She wanted him to fill her. But he wouldn’t.

            He pulled almost out. Them pushed again. Deeper. She gasped; partly in pleasure, partly in anticipation. She tried to move her hips against him, tried to bring him in again. But he held her too tight. Kevin had never done this before. This was a different side of her lover. He was deliberate, methodical, taking his time with her, teasing her then denying her. She was almost frightened at how much this turned her on.

            He moved his hips back then forward again. Further in. Hard. Big. Delicious. She moaned. Finally he was in her all the way. Holding it there. His pubis against her pussy. Pushing deeper still. Unbelievably deep. Impossibly big. Then he pulled back slowly. And thrust forcefully, deep again. Several times. He held a moment longer then his thrusts increased, faster, harder. At last he was fucking her. She knew he was giving into his need, to his desire for her, as his hips moved quicker.

            Impossibly, she felt another climax building. She felt him inside her, his thrusts fast, demanding, urgent. She heard his labored breathing, his sweat dripping on her bare back. He moaned as his hot liquid jetted into her, shooting in streams, then small rivulets. She tried to clinch him, tried to hold him as tight as she could, but he continued thrusting, slower, weaker, but still thrusting. Then she lost herself to her own physical pleasure. Her body responded to his in another series of spasms, her lungs grasping for breath, every muscle tensing. Her orgasm was different than before, less powerful, but more pleasurable, more fulfilling, with two as one.

            She didn’t know when he collapsed on her. But she felt his weight lift off of her as he slid out. His hand was still on the back of her neck and she could feel him shaking. He was weak, she knew, but she made no effort to get out of his grasp.

            When he let go, she felt the cuffs unlock and slide off her wrists. Still blindfolded, she lay as she was. She was too exhausted, too bewildered, and anxious that the remaining pleasure in her body would disappear if she moved too quickly.  

            She expected that Kevin would pull her from the desk and hold her. Or say something to her. But nothing happened. Finally, she took the blindfold off and blinked the light back into her eyes.

            “Kevin?” she called.  

             No response.

             She listened, trying to hear anyone.

             She slid to the floor, nude, covering herself with her arms.

             “Kevin, where are you?”

              Only silence.

              “Kevin? Are you still here?” she yelled.

              She called his name over and over. But the office was totally empty.

She was alone.

               Suddenly, she was very angry.

             She gathered her clothes quickly and padded to the bathroom to put herself back together. Where had he gone? Why was he hiding? Why did he leave? She hadn’t thought he was like that. She thought that he really gave a damn. Fuck him! The least he could have done was stayed with her for a few minutes. Fuck! That asshole!  

             Back at her desk she gathered her things, closed her computer. There would be no more work tonight. She was too angry, too upset, too….confused. Why would he do that to her and just leave? Then her cell rang.

             “Hello?”

            “Hey Babe, it’s me.”

            “Kevin? Where the hell are you,” she hissed.

              He hesitated a minute. Then “I’ve got bad news,” he said. “I’m stuck in Chicago . Bad weather somewhere. My flight’s been cancelled. I’ll try to book another, but…..”

             She was sure she hadn’t heard him right. “Where are you?” she demanded.

            “I’m in Chicago ” he said again.         

             Hot tears stung her eyes. She began to shake badly. “You mean you weren’t here?”

            “What? No…..I told you. My flight was cancelled…… ”

             But she didn’t hear the rest of his explanation.

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