It’s a cold evening in November and I am huddled in a bathroom stall at my office, trying to get the right angle on a photo. 

I had worn this outfit — a low cut top, and a shorter skirt than I’d usually select — just for him, hoping that this would be the day he finally noticed me. When we passed each other in the corridor, I thought I felt Sam’s eyes dart over me, but all he said was his usual “morning, Alex.” 

I didn’t get a second look at our team meeting. Sam kept his eyes fixed on his laptop.

So now I’m in the bathroom, trying to take a risqué photo. I plan to leave it open on my phone when Sam makes his evening rounds of the office. I realise it’s fucked, trying to sleep with my boss, but there’s something about the way he carries himself that makes my breath catch in my chest, makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, makes me shiver, just slightly, with the anticipation that maybe he could throw me up against a wall and use me however he wanted. 

I admire the photos I’ve taken — they’re hasty and blurry, but they’ll do. I straighten out my clothes and exit the stall. 

Leaving the bathroom, it dawns on me how late it is. I had been distracted for so long that the office had cleared out. It’s silent, except for the quiet typing of a distant keyboard. 

I look over my shoulder, and see the glow of a screen coming from Sam’s office. I realise we’re alone together, and take a deep breath. This is my chance, I think. 

Before I can step away from my desk, my phone rings. Sam. My skin buzzes with electricity at the sight of his name. 

“Hello?” I feel my breath catch, and I realise my assignment was late — too much time taking photos in the bathroom — and that he’s calling to track me down.

He must have heard my ringtone from his office.

The typing has stopped, and I hear the sound of a chair rolling back. His tall silhouette emerges at the frame of his office door. I’m so stunned that I keep my phone up to my ear, even though he’s close enough to hear me if I speak.

“Come into the office and close the door,” he says, his voice taking on an authority I don’t quite recognise. 

This is not what I was expecting, I didn’t think the outfit would work. Did he see me slip into the bathroom? He must’ve noticed how long I was gone— 

“Yes sir.” Sir? It comes out of my mouth before I can stop it.

I shuffle slowly into his office, keeping my gaze low. After gently closing the door I turn, and notice he’s got my most recent report printed out. I sit down at his desk, pulling my skirt down towards my knees, dreading that this won’t be the encounter I had hoped for. 

"This report is good work, you've done well," Sam starts.

My nerves dissipate and my shoulders relax. I can work with this.

"But...”

“But?” I clench my jaw. The glow of his computer is casting a blue glow across his face. His office is dim, but the light of his screen has cast a sheen over him, accentuating the shape of his shoulders and his sharp cheekbones. He’s been working out: His sleeves are stretched tight over his biceps, implying that the muscles he’s gained are new. 

I picture him tossing me across the room, and my mouth twitches. 

“Something funny?”

"No, sir—I mean Sam. No, Sam." I look at my lap, face flushed. When I dare to look up again, he’s gazing at me. It’s not clear from the look on his face if he’s mentally undressing me, or if he’s actually angry. 

His eyes dart towards my file on his desk, then back at me. 

“Sam?”

He taps my report and shakes his head. “Alex.” He pauses, swallowing to clear his throat. I notice he’s shed the tie he’d worn to our team meeting, and the top two buttons of his shirt have been undone. 

I can feel myself staring, but I can’t pull myself out of it.

"The report is good, Alex, but it could be great. You could be great. You just need more focus. I see you space out, where does your mind wander off to?"

I can’t tell him that he’s the reason I can’t get any work done. “It’s, ah. I—” 

He stops me before I can finish my sentence. “I know why you can’t focus. Not a thought in that pretty head of yours,” he says, undoing another button on his shirt.

Sam puts the report down on his desk and steps towards me. “To help you refocus,” he starts, leaning over the chair I’m sitting in. “We should deal with your distractions.”

He pulls his face nearer to mine. I hadn’t ever gotten close enough to him to smell his cologne, but it hangs in the air between us, soft and musky. Sam takes my chin in his hand, tilting my head up towards him. I'm flushed, my face is reddening. 

He's gripping my chin hard enough to leave a mark. 

The thought of leaving the office with the outline of his hand etched into my cheek makes me wet. “What do you suggest we do about my work?” I ask, my voice catching. His grip on me tightens, his right hand coming up to my neck.

I can't help but moan. 

“It's clear to me that you need more focus,” Sam says, a look of satisfaction spread across his face. “You need discipline, Alex.”

“You’re right,” I gasp. 

“Good girl. I'm glad we agree.”

At that, I melt. The small thong I had picked out this morning is soaked through. I squirm in my chair, just to get any amount of physical release.

“Sam... I mean Sir... Please discipline me,” I say with a newly found confidence. “Get up,” Sam orders, pulling me to my feet by my chin.

"Take it off,” he says, nodding at my skirt. He releases his grasp on my face, and I unclasp the closure and pull the zipper down, slowly pulling the skirt over my thighs. His hand slides between my legs and over my thong. I'm soaked, and he notices, sliding his fingers across my wetness. 

“That's what I thought,” Sam says. “Proof of how distracted you've been lately. Get on your knees.”

I drop to the floor.

He undoes the remainder of his buttons and takes off his shirt, placing it over the arm of this chair I was just on. With a smooth confidence, he undoes his belt, but keeps it grasped in his hand. 

“Now then, let's channel your focus. Undo my trousers,” he orders. There’s a firmness in his voice, and I can tell it’s not the first time he’s given such instructions. I lift my hands to his waistband, reaching for the button of his trousers. It’s the only thing that separates me now from what I’ve lusted after for months.

I undo his button and slide his zipper down. My hands are shaking, but I manage to mask it, deftly slipping his trousers down around his ankles. 

I can see he's rock hard, and I'm overcome with a need to take him into my mouth as deep as I can manage. I reach for his cock, but Sam slaps me hard across the face as I'm opening my mouth. My face stings, but the impact leaves me deliciously breathless. I want him to do it again. 

“Eager slut, are you? I didn't tell you to keep going.” Sam gathers my hair in his hand and wraps it tight around his fist. With a tug, I'm forced to look up at him. “Take down my briefs,” he orders.

I do as I'm told. “Yes sir,” I say. He murmurs his approval, slightly releasing his grip on my hair, but doesn't let go. I pull his briefs down, looking up at him. 

“Take it.” Sam pushes my mouth onto his cock, moaning as he slides deeper into my throat. I can't help but moan too as I get to taste him after all this time. He pushes my head down harder and I gag, my eyes watering. “Good girl,” Sam growls at me. His praise only encourages me. I don't want to just be a good girl, I want to be his good girl. I’d take his cock all night if that’s what he wanted, and show him what a willing, disciplined slut I can be. 

He builds a steady rhythm of fucking my face. I’m choking and my eyes are watering, sending mascara running down my face. A sharp tug on my hair releases his throbbing cock from my throat, and a combination of saliva and pre-cum pours out my mouth, down my chin and onto my exposed chest. 

He slaps me again. “Stay focused, slut. Keep your eyes on me.” Sam grabs me by my wrist and pulls me to my feet, pushing me against the wall of his office. I realise he's left the blinds of his window open, and the cityscape stretches out, glowing, thirty stories below us. He lifts me up effortlessly, pressing my back against the wall. I run a hand over his arms, feeling how tight they are under the weight of me. As I wrap my legs around his waist, Sam pushes his cock inside of me. 

“What else can you do, whore?”

I can't answer. He's so deep inside of me that I can't think of anything beyond the sensation. He brings an arm up over my throat, pinning me against the wall.  

"I asked you a question,” he says, pressing his arm harder into me. 

“Anything you want, sir. I can do anything you want,” I gasp.

“Correct answer, slut.” He slides his thick cock in and out of me, picking up the pace with every thrust. My pussy tightens around him, the sensation of his hardness pushing me closer to the edge. I glance out the window and realise how exposed we are. Someone in the building opposite would just need to glance up to see how much of a desperate slut I am for Sam. 

The feeling of being so exposed pushes me over the edge. “Sir, please don't stop... Fuck,” I groan. He grunts his approval and thrusts into me harder, using my cunt for his own pleasure.

Sam slides me off of him and pushes me against the wall. He turns to his desk and sweeps his arm across it, pushing my report and a stack of papers onto the floor.  He grabs me by my neck, pushing me down onto his desk. Sam thrusts into me, and I moan as he gets deeper, his pace quickening. Around my neck, his hand tightens, until my vision is blurring and I'm gasping for air. I cough, but I'm trying to show him how well I can behave for him, so I'm not ready to stop him yet. I pull his hand down harder onto my throat, my head swimming from the pressure.

---Sam's POV---

Getting this slut to spread her legs in my office was almost too easy. This has always been my favourite bit of the internship scheme: New young women every six months, asking for my help to guide them through the world. 

Not one of these sluts have failed me yet, but Alex had bent over for me in record time. From the first week she arrived I could tell she was interested, so it wasn’t a matter of reeling her in. I hadn't planned to move so quickly, but why would I pass up an opportunity to take a young, eager whore?

Her moans echo around my office. I’m impressed with how long she’s let me choke her. “Do you want it harder, you little whore?” 

She gasps a yes, apparently still trying to prove herself to me. I thrust into her harder, rhythmically. I slap her across the face, and the sight of the tears running down her cheeks nearly pushes me over the edge. I ease my grip on her throat for a moment and she gasps again.

“Please, sir, I’m so close. Don’t stop,” Alex begs. There’s nothing I love more than an easy, begging slut, so I stop, my cock deep inside her tight pussy. 

“Beg me.”

She’s helpless, squirming underneath me, grinding her cunt into me in a feeble attempt to make herself cum. I slap her again. “You stupid slut, I'm in control here. You cum when I want you to. Now, I won't ask again. Beg.”

Her previously pristine makeup is smeared all over her face. A tear rolls down her cheek as she grovels. “Fuck me, Sir. Use me, Sir, please, fill me with your cum Sir, I need this."

“Louder.” 

“Please,” she moans.

“Again.” 

“Please, sir, I need you to fuck me.” She’s still writhing under me, so I pin her arms above her head and press her harder into the desk. “Louder.” 

Alex is so desperate to cum that her lips are trembling, her eyes watering. She can barely get a sentence out, unable to concentrate on anything except the potential that I might let her finish. I grind into her, and she cries out.  

“Sir, I need it. Please,” she screams. 

Finally. “That’s better. Cum, you stupid slut.”

She’s shaking, legs tight around my hips as I thrust in and out of her. She lets out a long, low moan and I can feel her pussy tightening around my cock. “Fuck—“ she sighs, cum gushing out of her and running down both of our thighs. I slap her across the face, shove her harder into the desk. The sight of her being such a whore for me is too much to handle. I pull out of her, cumming all over her pretty, perky tits. 

Alex’s chest is heaving as she pants, trying to catch her breath. I slide off of her and start to pull on my trousers.

“Clean yourself up and go home, Alex. I’ll see you tomorrow.”