I Subdued My Boss with My Feet in His Office

The alarm went off at exactly six-thirty, like a sign that the day had finally arrived. My first shift as a receptionist at one of the biggest business groups in the city. The very idea made me churn inside with a mix of excitement and nerves I hadn’t expected to feel so strongly. I stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before gathering the nerve to get up.

Come on, Renata, it’s now or never.

While I ate toast and coffee, I mentally went over the outfit I’d left ready the night before. I wanted to make a good impression, but also leave behind a trace of freshness and confidence that would give my age away. I settled on a fitted wine-colored dress with elbow-length sleeves and a sweetheart neckline that framed my collarbones without being shameless.

The skirt, snug at the top, opened just slightly as it fell and ended at mid-calf: just enough to be provocative without crossing the line. A perfect balance between elegance and audacity, ideal for announcing my arrival.

Choosing the stockings took longer than I’d like to admit. In the end I went with sheer black ones, so soft they felt like a second skin. As I slipped them over my feet and slowly pulled them up my legs, I felt the enveloping brush of the fabric, like an intimate whisper stroking every curve. My thighs, firm and rounded, seemed to come alive under the subtle sheen they reflected in the room’s light.

I carefully adjusted the top, making sure they were smooth, without wrinkles, enjoying the light pressure that shaped my legs with an almost tempting precision. Underneath, a black lace thong that barely covered the essentials. As I ran the tip of my finger over my cunt to settle it in place, I noticed I was already wet just thinking about how they’d see me walking in. I bit my lip. Control yourself, Renata, you haven’t even left the house yet.

The black patent stilettos were the perfect finishing touch. When I slid my feet into them, the way they lifted my calves and defined the line of my thighs gave me a feeling of power I hadn’t expected. I took a couple of steps on the wood floor, letting the rhythmic click of my heels echo through the room, like a prelude to everything that was coming.

I stood in front of the mirror, watching how the stockings and heels turned my legs into the center of my figure. I turned a little, posing without effort, and couldn’t help noticing how the fabric also enhanced the curve of my ass. I smiled to myself. I felt feminine and desirable, and that was exactly how I wanted to feel that morning.

***

The trip to the building was short but charged with little bursts of emotion. The morning sun shone on the glass facade, and my heels clicked softly on the marble as I went in. The temporary receptionist gave me a cordial smile before pointing down a corridor.

—Your mentor is waiting in the office next door. Mariana, right? —I said, trying to sound confident.

—Yes, right there. Good luck on your first day.

Mariana was everything I imagined in someone with years on the job: elegant, efficient, and kind, but with a bluntness that conveyed professionalism. She wore beige trousers and a pristine white blouse, and when she greeted me she offered a warm smile.

—Renata, welcome. Come on, I’ll show you around.

As we walked through the hallways, she explained the basics: where the desks were, how to organize the paperwork, the day-to-day details. I listened carefully, but I couldn’t ignore how each step I took seemed to sound a little louder than normal, amplified by the echo of my heels against the marble. I kept my back straight, feeling the natural sway of my hips keep pace with my stride.

I noticed a few furtive looks from employees as we passed. Eyes dropping to my legs wrapped in stockings and then quickly back up to my face, as if they didn’t want to be caught. I bit my lip to hide a smile. I wasn’t doing it for them, but knowing they couldn’t stop looking at me gave me an unexpected spark of satisfaction. A young guy with a loose tie was blatantly staring at my ass; I could feel his eyes nailed to the seam of my dress, and for a moment I wondered how many of those men were thinking about fucking me before lunch.

—A piece of advice —Mariana said when we stopped in front of the main desk, with a conspiratorial smile—. Image matters here, but don’t worry, you’ve got everything under control. Just be yourself and the rest flows on its own.

—Thanks, Mariana. —I nodded, adjusting the hem of my dress as I settled into the chair. When I crossed my legs, the fabric slid a little higher than intended, exposing the upper part of my thighs. The stockings gleamed under the light, and I noticed how that sheen seemed to attract glances even when they tried to hide it.

Without realizing it, my foot started playing with my shoe. I slipped it just barely off my heel, rocking it slowly while I kept listening. The sensation of the edge of the stiletto brushing my bare toes was strangely pleasurable, an intimate detail that, although innocent, had a provocative air. I caught out of the corner of my eye that Mariana was still explaining something about procedures, but her gaze dropped for an instant to my foot, and she arched one eyebrow with an almost imperceptible smile.

I settled myself again, smoothing my dress calmly, feeling a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment for having drawn more attention than planned. Even so, I made no effort to change my posture.

—Ah, and you’ll probably meet Mr. Vidal at some point this morning. Don’t get nervous, he’s charming, but he has an… intense presence.

***

I didn’t have time to ask more before he appeared. A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair crossed the lobby with impeccable bearing. He wore a perfectly tailored dark gray suit with a blue tie that stood out against the white shirt. He walked slowly but with confidence, and when he reached reception he gave me a slight smile.

—Good morning. You must be Renata —he said in a deep, warm voice.

—Yes, nice to meet you, Mr. Vidal. —I tried to keep my tone steady, though my heart was beating a little faster than usual.

He looked straight at me with the intensity Mariana had mentioned, though it wasn’t intimidating. He had something magnetic, as if his attention could catch every detail in a single glance. His eyes dropped for a moment, settling on the stockings that wrapped my legs, before returning to my face. The pause was brief, but enough to bring color to my cheeks. And for a hot tingle to tighten my cunt under my skirt.

—I hope you have an excellent first day. Mariana is a great guide —he added before continuing on his way.

When he disappeared down the hall, Mariana gave me a knowing look.

—See? I told you, he doesn’t bite. But girl, you should’ve seen your face. You were red as a tomato.

I laughed, relieved by her light tone. The rest of the morning passed in apparent calm, though my mind kept drifting back to the brief encounter with him. There was something about the way he had lowered his gaze that, even if subtle, made me feel watched in a particular way, as if my stockings and heels were more than just accessories. Every time I squeezed my thighs under the desk I could feel the wetness spreading through the thong lace. I was soaked. Soaked for a man I’d seen for thirty seconds.

***

Near midday, Mariana excused herself to attend a meeting and left me alone at reception. I used the silence to get familiar with the systems and organize the pending documents. But my concentration snapped when firm footsteps and a faint creak of leather echoed in the corridor.

I looked up and there he was. His presence filled the space with disconcerting ease. He was still in the same gray suit, but now with the jacket unbuttoned, revealing the precisely tied tie and white shirt. His gaze, as intense as before, locked onto me and made me straighten instinctively.

—Renata, right? —His deep voice seemed to wrap around me.

—Yes, Mr. Vidal. How can I help you? —I tried to sound professional, though the tone betrayed me with a slight tremor.

—I just came by to see how you’re doing on your first day. Mariana mentioned you’ve got everything under control. —His smile was polite, but there was something in the way he looked at me that made me feel assessed down to the last detail.

As he spoke, he leaned lightly on the edge of the desk, shortening the distance between us. I felt his gaze drop for a second to my crossed legs, stop on the sheen of the stockings, and return to my face. My shoe, still hanging from my toes, rocked almost involuntarily, and his attention seemed to linger a little longer on the movement. I managed to catch, hidden beneath the fabric of his trousers, a bulge growing larger. His cock was getting hard just looking at my foot. I squeezed my thighs under the desk and felt a hot throb between my legs.

—Thank you, sir. I’m settling in well. Mariana has been very helpful. —I wanted to keep control, but the heat climbing up my neck made me conscious of every gesture.

—That’s good. —He paused, gaze fixed on mine as if looking for something beyond a polite answer—. I hope you feel comfortable here. It’s important to feel at home, even at work.

The way he said it, with that mix of authority and kindness, left me a little undone. On impulse, I uncrossed my legs to adjust my dress, and the movement made the fabric ride up more than I intended, revealing a little more thigh. I saw his gaze flick down for an instant before returning to my eyes, and something in his expression changed, as if professionalism gave way to a more intimate curiosity. I saw his throat swallow. Saw his tongue briefly come out to moisten his lower lip. Saw the bulge widen against his trousers. And I liked it. I liked it a lot.

—I’m sure it will be —I replied, trying to sound relaxed, though my breathing had quickened.

—I hope so. —His tone lowered, almost a whisper, before he slowly straightened. The scent of his cologne, woody and a little spicy, lingered between us.

When he turned to go, I realized I’d been holding my breath. I leaned back a little in the chair, feeling my legs tremble faintly, not from the heels, but from the intensity of the moment. I slipped a hand under the desk and touched myself over my skirt: I was soaked through. The lace of the thong was stuck to my cunt like a wet second skin.

Before crossing the hallway, he stopped and looked back at me.

—Renata, could you bring me a coffee to my office in a few minutes? I’d like to continue this conversation more calmly. —It wasn’t an order, but it wasn’t a question either.

I nodded, trying to seem calm. But as I watched him disappear behind his office door, my pulse quickened, and the light pressure of the stockings against my skin seemed to remind me with every brush that something in me had changed. I was going to take him a coffee. And I was also going to let him fuck me if he tried. I knew it with a clarity that left me breathless.

***

The walk to his office felt longer than expected, as if every step carried a tension impossible to ignore. I carried a tray with a cup of freshly made coffee, the warm aroma contrasting with the electric current that had wrapped around me since I accepted his invitation. When I reached the slightly open door, I knocked softly with my knuckles.

—Come in, Renata —his voice answered, deep and calm.

When I entered, the room welcomed me with a blend of dark woods, leather, and the barely perceptible echo of classical music. His office was exactly what I imagined: elegant, sober, perfectly tidy, with a wall of windows letting natural light spill over his figure behind the large desk. He was reviewing some papers, but when he saw me he set the pen down and gave me a smile that made my stomach jump.

—Thank you. —He got up to take the tray, and as he did his fingers brushed mine. A brief contact that made me catch my breath.

—My pleasure, sir —I said, trying to keep my tone professional, though my voice trembled.

—Sit down, please. —He pointed to a chair in front of the desk, but before I could settle he watched me carefully—. If you’d rather be more comfortable, the sofa by the window is a better choice.

I hesitated a moment and nodded, grateful to escape the rigidity of the desk. The black leather sofa was soft and enveloping, and when I sat down I noticed my dress sliding again, exposing more skin. The sheen of the stockings in the window light seemed to draw his gaze like a magnet, though he disguised it by turning back to the coffee.

—I hope you don’t mind the music —he commented, leaning toward the sound system to adjust the volume. The melody became clearer, filling the air with a calm but subtly intimate atmosphere.

—Not at all. It’s very pleasant. —My answer was honest, though I couldn’t ignore how every movement of his seemed calculated to tighten my nerves.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was dense. I slowly crossed my legs, letting the heel dangle again from my foot. I couldn’t help it. That gesture had become almost a natural reflex to calm my anxiety, though deep down I knew it had another effect. I felt his gaze linger a few seconds too long on the movement, and something inside me flared. A rush of heat dropped into my belly and soaked my thong again. I could smell myself: sweet, acidic, slutty.

—You’re very observant, Renata —he said suddenly, his tone low and measured—. It’s something I value a lot in this job.

—Thank you, sir. I try to do my best —I replied, leaning just slightly toward him, just enough for the neckline to deepen without being obvious. I saw his gaze sink into the cleavage between my breasts and return with effort.

—That’s obvious. —He set down the cup with a controlled gesture and moved a little closer to the sofa. The window light outlined his figure, and his proximity made the air thicker.

For a moment neither of us spoke. Music filled the gaps, and the steady click of my heel against my heel seemed to mark the rhythm of something deeper than words. That’s when I noticed his gaze drop again, fixed on my foot, now completely out of the shoe.

***

I inhaled deeply, feeling the heat gather in my chest and slide down toward my belly. Slowly, I slipped off the other shoe and left both feet bare on the floor. The stockings gleamed with a tempting flash, and without thinking too much, I lifted one foot and rested it softly on his thigh.

—Does this bother you, Mr. Vidal? —I asked, my voice barely a whisper loaded with intent.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead of pulling away, he brought a hand to my foot and traced the edge with his fingertips, his expression hardening with restrained desire.

—Renata… —he murmured, the deep tone now tinged with something darker.

With a smile I couldn’t hide, I let my foot slowly rise, brushing the fabric of his trousers, feeling his body react to every movement. The music kept surrounding us, but all I could hear was our breathing growing more and more ragged.

His hand settled more firmly on my foot, holding it for a moment as if deciding whether to stop me or let me continue. His touch was warm, decisive, and his contained pleasure encouraged me to go on. My motive was simple: I wanted to feel the weight of his desire, the power I held over him with a gesture as simple as sliding my foot over his body. The risk of being caught, the adrenaline in my veins and the brush of the fabric against my skin made it as pleasurable for me as it was for him.

—Renata… —His voice sounded like a warning, but he didn’t let go of my hand.

—Is something wrong, Mr. Vidal? —I asked in a tone that aimed to sound innocent, though the look I gave him said anything but.

With a slight movement, I lifted my foot and pressed lightly against his crotch. His response was immediate: a sigh escaped his lips and his body tensed. The trousers made the truth obvious. His cock was hard as stone, outlined against the gray fabric, thick and long under the sole of my foot. I could feel it throbbing. Each pulse of that rigid dick hammering against my toes made me squeeze my thighs.

I moved my foot slowly, tracing soft circles, feeling how he responded to each brush. The edge of the stockings created a perfect contrast between the softness of the fabric and the firmness beginning to show beneath my movements. I closed my eyes for an instant and let the sensation take over: the feel of the stockings against him, the control I had at that moment, and the tension filling the air. With the tip of my foot I traced the entire length of his cock over his trousers, measuring it, memorizing its shape. It was thick. Thick and long. The image of that dick in my mouth, in my cunt, in my ass hit me all at once and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning.

—You’re dangerous, Renata… —he murmured, letting his head fall back, hands gripping the edges of the sofa as if he were trying not to lose control.

—That’s not my intention, sir. I just want you to feel comfortable. —My words were a double-edged whisper while my foot increased the rhythm, pressing more decisively. I flattened the sole against the bulge and rubbed up and down firmly. The fabric of his trousers crackled softly under my stockings.

His hands, previously restrained, moved to my ankle and held it with a mix of firmness and adoration. I felt his fingers trace lines over the stockings, slowly moving up my leg, eyes closed, lost in the moment. The friction between my foot and his hardness, still covered by the trousers, seemed to be taking him to the limit. His body answered with little spasms, and the moan that escaped him confirmed I had him exactly where I wanted him.

The risk was as exciting as the act itself. The door remained closed, but the possibility of someone walking in, of this being discovered, made my pulse race. Every pressure, every measured movement, turned into an intimate dance between what was allowed and what was forbidden. I imagined Mariana walking in and finding us like that, the boss’s cock rubbing against my stockinged foot, and the thought shot a wet throb through my cunt.

—Please… —he murmured more forcefully, his tone wavering between pleading and pleasure, as if on the verge of giving in completely.

—Shh… —I whispered, bringing a finger to my lips while keeping up my rhythm, alternating firm movements with light caresses that seemed to dismantle him. His breathing grew heavier, his muscles, once tense, relaxed under the pressure of my touch—. Take it out, Mr. Vidal —I whispered, and my own voice sounded strange to me, rougher, more adult, sluttier—. Take it out for me. I want to see it.

***

With deliberate slowness, he brought his hands to the waistband of his trousers and unfastened them with steady fingers that, despite his resolve, trembled a little. He pulled the zipper down without looking away, pushed aside the boxer waistband, and freed his erection in a direct way that nonetheless lost none of the elegance that defined him.

And there it was. His naked cock pointing toward the ceiling, thick at the base, with a swollen purple head shining with a bead of thick pre-cum. The veins stood out along the shaft, throbbing every two or three seconds. It was bigger than I’d imagined from the outside. I stared at it with my mouth slightly open.

—I didn’t expect… —I said in a whisper, but my own voice betrayed me, breaking with a note of excited curiosity I couldn’t hide—. Fuck. It’s huge.

—Keep going… —he cut in, his voice deep and thick with desire. His fixed stare reflected a mixture of gratitude and need, as if all his control had collapsed and now depended entirely on what I chose to do.

Without thinking too much, I leaned back on the sofa, settling with my legs a little raised, letting the dress slide up until it was gathered at my waist. The posture revealed the delicate black lace of my underwear, which showed through in the light and traced the curves of my hips shamelessly. The fabric was darkened by an unmistakable stain between my legs. I knew he could see it. I knew he saw that I was leaking for him.

From there, my feet wrapped in sheer stockings had all the freedom to move with precision. I looked straight into his eyes while both met his naked cock, caressing it first with soft movements, as if calibrating each reaction. I pressed the soles around the shaft, squeezing it as if it were a cunt made of silk, and began to move up and down.

—Like this, Mr. Vidal? —I asked, my tone coquettish but with a clear intention that left no room for doubt—. Do you like it like this, with my stockings squeezing your cock?

He didn’t answer immediately. His slightly parted lips and the faint tremor of his jaw spoke for him. With my hands gripping the sofa’s edges, I began to move both feet with a bolder rhythm, trapping his hardness between my soles, letting the silky texture of the stockings multiply every brush. The heat of his skin passed through the thin barrier of the fabric, and with each movement I felt him surrender more. His head, wet with the fluid that kept coming out, smeared the black stocking, leaving a shiny stain that spread wider and wider.

—You’re… too good at this —he managed between ragged breaths.

—It’s a matter of practice… —I answered with a naughty smile, pressing slightly with the arches of my feet, sliding the tip of one toward the base while the other kept a steady rhythm. The tension in his body was obvious; each movement brought him closer to the edge. I slipped a hand between my legs, pushed the thong aside, and put two fingers in my cunt. I was so wet they sank all the way in at once. A low moan slipped out of me before I could stop it.

He opened his eyes when he heard it.

—Let me see —he murmured, his voice broken—. Let me see you touch yourself, fuck.

I pulled the wet lace completely aside and spread my legs a little wider. I showed him everything: the swollen lips, the rigid clit peeking between them, my fingers gleaming with my own juices going in and out. His cock jerked violently between my feet and a fresh drop stretched out before falling onto the stocking.

—I’m very wet, sir —I whispered, speeding up with my feet while I finger-fucked myself—. Very wet for you. Can you see it?

—God, Renata…

The music kept playing, but the star of the room was the sound of his cut-off breathing, the soft slapping of my fingers plunging into my cunt, and the brush of my stockings against his cock. His body began to arch, and his hands, once braced on the sofa, moved to my ankles, gripping them as if he needed something to hold on to so he wouldn’t lose control entirely. He moved his hips, started fucking my feet. His cock slid between the stockings with a wet sound, tight, slipping in and out of the silk sheath I’d made with my soles.

—Renata… —he murmured, this time more like a plea than a warning—. I’m not going to last much longer.

—Shh… —I answered again, now with an air of dominance that surprised even me—. Come, Mr. Vidal. Come in my stockings. I want to see it.

I pulled my fingers out of my cunt and brought them to my mouth, sucking them one by one while I watched him. His jaw clenched. My feet sped up, alternating circles with firm pressure that seemed to push him to the brink. I could feel his heat intensifying and the evidence of his pleasure becoming more and more undeniable. His cock swelled even more between my soles, the head nearly violet, the thick veins hammering violently.

—Yes… yes, fuck…

At last, a low, deep moan escaped his lips as his body shook. The tension released in a spasm he couldn’t contain, and the response was immediate: the first hot, thick rope of semen shot onto the sole of my right foot, soaking the stocking at once. A second, longer spurt ran down the shaft and smeared my fingers. The third, weaker one clung to the head before sliding off in a thick thread over my ankle. His cock kept throbbing between my feet as he finished emptying himself, and I didn’t stop squeezing him, milking him with my soles, drawing out the very last drop.

I looked down and watched the result mark the sheer fabric. The stocking, once a uniform black, now gleamed milky in several places, with the hot cum still spreading across the material and sticking it to my skin. The smell of semen mixed with my own wet cunt and the woody cologne, and something in me shivered at recognizing that smell as the smell of making an important man lose control.

He tried to recover his composure, breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling. I leaned forward slowly, slid a finger down my leg to gather some of his semen, and brought it to my mouth. I sucked it without taking my eyes off his. It tasted thick, a little salty, a little sweet. I swallowed and smiled.

—I hope that was… more than comfortable, Mr. Vidal —I said in a playful whisper, with a smile I made no effort to hide.

He looked at me, still panting, and a curved smile appeared on his lips, reflecting a mix of satisfaction and amazement.

—Renata… you’re a unique woman.

His gaze dropped to my cunt, which was still open and shining between my legs. He licked his lips. Before I could say anything, he knelt between my legs on the rug and took my hips in both hands.

—Let me return the favor —he murmured.

I didn’t have time to answer. His mouth came down on my cunt with a hunger that tore a sharp moan from me. I had to cover my face with both hands so I wouldn’t scream. His tongue drove between my lips, long, hot, precise, and began to lick me from bottom to top with long strokes that went from my perineum to my clit. He sucked, licked, nibbled. He pushed his tongue inside me, pulled it out, pushed it back in, fucking the opening of my cunt like it was a small, agile cock.

—Oh, God… Mr. Vidal… —I panted, clutching the sofa back.

He went up to my clit and trapped it between his lips, sucking gently, then harder, alternating suction with circles from the tip of his tongue. At the same time, he slid two fingers into my cunt and started moving them upward, pressing that spot that made me see stars. A third finger joined in, stretching me, and I felt the sofa soaking under my ass with my own juices that kept pouring out.

—Like that, yes, like that, don’t stop… —I begged him in a whisper. My voice sounded desperate, obscene, far removed from the neat receptionist who had walked in that morning.

He sped up. His fingers fucked me with a firm rhythm while his mouth never left my clit. The orgasm gathered at the base of my spine, rose through my belly, and exploded all at once. I arched, closed my thighs around his head, and let out a strangled cry against the palm of my hand. My cunt clamped violently around his fingers, throbbing, contracting over and over as I came. He didn’t let me go. He kept licking, softer now, stretching the orgasm out until I started trembling and pushing his face away because I couldn’t take any more.

He rose from the floor with his chin and lips shining with me. He wiped them with the back of his hand and smiled. His cock was still out, half-hard, hanging heavy from the open fly. And without thinking, I reached out and grabbed it.

—We’re not even yet —I murmured.

I squeezed it. I moved it slowly. I felt it grow again under my palm, swell, harden. He looked at me with raised eyebrows, a playful surprise on his face.

—You’re twenty-one and you can take more than I can, Renata.

—Twenty-two. And I’m not taking anything, sir. I’m just getting started.

I slid off the sofa to the floor between his legs and took him into my mouth without warning. I sucked him hard, down to the middle, and he gripped the sofa back with both hands and muttered a curse. He tasted like me. Like my cunt mixed with what was left of his own semen, and that salty, thick blend made me even hornier. I licked him from the base to the head, ran my tongue under the foreskin, took all of him in until he hit the back of my throat and I coughed a little, but I didn’t let him go.

I looked up at him through tearful eyes, with his cock filling my mouth, and he stroked my cheek with a tenderness that contrasted with what was happening.

—Renata, fuck…

I pulled him out with a wet pop, breathing hard, a thread of saliva hanging from my lip. I smiled at him.

—Do you like the way your receptionist sucks your cock, Mr. Vidal?

—Better than anyone has sucked me in years.

I took him back in. This time with rhythm, bobbing my head up and down, pressing my lips around the shaft, helping myself with my hand at the base. With my other hand I touched my clit again, still sensitive from the previous orgasm. My cunt was open, hungry, throbbing. I wanted more. I wanted him inside.

I stood up without letting go of his cock, climbed on top of him on the sofa, with my knees on either side of his hips. I pulled my dress up to my waist. I pushed the thong aside with one finger. I set the head of his cock at the entrance to my cunt and lowered myself slowly.

—Oh, fuck… —I gasped when the tip went in.

I went lower. I took him in centimeter by centimeter, savoring the way he opened me, the way he stretched me. I was so wet that he slid all the way in on the second push. I took him to the hilt, until my ass touched his thighs, and let out the air in one sharp breath.

—You’re so deep —I whispered into his ear—. So deep, Mr. Vidal.

He grabbed my hips with both hands. He squeezed hard. I started moving. Up and down, first slowly, feeling every vein of his cock scrape inside me, feeling the head push against the bottom of my cunt. Then faster. Then much faster. The sofa creaked. My tits bounced inside the dress and he yanked the neckline down, pulling them out all at once. He took one nipple into his mouth and sucked hard while I rode him. I bit his shoulder to keep from screaming.

—Harder, sir —I whispered—. Fuck me harder.

He lifted me by the hips and turned me over. He laid me face down across the arm of the sofa, ass up, with the stockings still ruined with semen and shining under the light. He hiked my dress up my back. He pushed the thong aside again and drove into me in one thrust.

—Ah, fuck, yes…

He started fucking me from behind with brutal rhythm. His cock went in and out of my cunt with an obscene, wet, slapping sound. His hips smashed against my ass and the impact echoed through the whole office. He grabbed my hair with one hand, not violently but with authority, and with the other he squeezed one cheek of my ass hard enough to leave the print of his fingers.

—You’re a delicious little slut —he growled near my ear—. My delicious little slut. My receptionist.

—Yes, sir. Your slut. Fuck me.

He fucked me so deeply that every thrust lifted my belly. He drove his cock into me until it hit my cervix and pulled almost all the way out before sinking back in. He slipped a thumb into my ass, just the tip, and that unexpected detail made my cunt clench around him in a spasm. I felt him swell inside me.

—I’m going to come again —I told him through clenched teeth—. Oh God, I’m going to come…

—Come. Come with me. Come on my cock, Renata.

He sped up even more. His fingers dug into my hip. I pushed my ass back to take him, to drive myself down onto him. The second orgasm hit me all at once, more violent than the first. My cunt clamped around him with deep contractions, squeezing him to the hilt. I screamed into the sofa arm, bit the leather. A second later he let out an animal groan and pulled out at the last instant. He came over the small of my back, over the curve of my ass, thick hot ropes marking my skin and splashing the edge of my rolled-up dress.

We stayed like that for a few seconds. Me bent over the sofa arm, panting. He standing behind me, cock still in his hand, finishing off the last drops over my ass. The office smelled like sex, semen, my cunt, expensive cologne. Classical music kept playing as if nothing had happened.

He took a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and cleaned my back with a delicacy that surprised me after the brutality of a minute ago. He straightened my thong. He lowered my dress carefully. He turned me around and lifted the neckline back over my breasts. He kissed my temple.

—Now we’re even —he murmured.

I laughed, still trembling. I slipped my arms around his neck and gave him a slow, long kiss with tongue. It tasted like me. Like both of us. Like everything we had just done.

***

The air was still charged, as if the moment were still floating between us. While I put my heels back on, I felt the heat of his eyes fixed on me, watching every movement as if he wanted to memorize every detail. The damp fabric on the soles of my feet clung to my skin with a different texture, a tangible reminder of what had just happened. The cum had cooled a little but was still there, smearing the stockings, sticky, impossible to ignore. Between my legs I could also feel his semen sliding down the inner side of my thigh. I hadn’t had the time or the desire to clean myself up completely.

When I stood up, the brush of the shoe against the stockings amplified that sensation. It was as if with every step the weight of the moment stayed with me, taking me to a level of awareness I hadn’t experienced before. Every time the heel touched the floor, the soft, almost sticky friction reminded me of what we had just shared. A mix of power, control, and the audacity of having crossed a line I never imagined crossing on my first day.

Mr. Vidal rose calmly, settled his cock inside his boxer briefs, zipped up, and restored his bearing with the same elegance he’d had at the start. Not a wrinkle out of place. Only the blush in his cheeks and the shine in his eyes gave away what had happened. He looked at me with that smile combining courtesy and something deeper, and stepped toward me, extending a hand toward my back.

—Let me walk you to the door, Renata. It’s the least I can do after such a… promising start. —His voice held a note of satisfaction he made no attempt to hide.

I nodded without saying a word, aware of every gesture, every glance, every brush of contact that made the air around us vibrate. As we walked to the exit, I felt his hand brush my waist and slide his fingers with calculated softness toward the curve of my ass. It wasn’t shameless, but it was intentional enough to quicken my breathing. He squeezed one cheek with his open palm, with the confidence of someone who had just fucked me five minutes earlier, and then slid his hand back to my waist as if nothing had happened.

—You did excellent work today, Renata. —His tone was casual, but the pause he made before continuing made it clear there was more behind it—. I’m sure you’re going to fit in perfectly here.

When we reached the door, his hand withdrew slowly, as if reluctant to stop touching me. I turned toward him, still feeling the heat of his palm through the dress. A soft smile appeared on my lips, and my answer was deliberately light, though loaded with meaning.

—Thank you, Mr. Vidal. It was a pleasure to help make your day… comfortable.

He gave a brief, low, controlled laugh before nodding.

—More than you imagine, Renata. More than you imagine.

As I left his office and returned to reception, the sensation under my feet was still there, every step a reminder of what we had just shared. There was something strangely satisfying about that subtle friction, the echo of my heels in the hallway, the way the damp fabric molded to my movements. I could also feel his semen slowly slipping down the inside of my thigh, a warm thread sliding inside the stockings and making me squeeze my legs every couple of steps. I felt powerful, as if anyone who crossed my path would have no idea what had happened behind that closed door. That I was walking around with the stockings soaked in the boss’s semen, my cunt still throbbing, the taste of his cock in my mouth.

When I got back to the desk, I sat down slowly, smoothed my dress, and crossed my legs carefully. I looked at my feet, still wrapped in those stockings that now seemed to carry a story of their own. I felt a heat in my chest, a mix of satisfaction and pride I hadn’t experienced in that way before. Under the desk, I squeezed my thighs and felt his cum keep sliding slowly. I smiled without meaning to.

It’s only the first day.

And although I didn’t know what would come after, one thing was certain: I intended to enjoy every step of the way.