My Boss Became My Master at the Office

My name is Renata and I’m thirty-one years old. For those who don’t know me, I have a slim but firm body, medium breasts with pink nipples that stand at the slightest thing, and hips that more than one person has described as a problem. A good girl’s face and a look that’s the exact opposite. Today I’m choosing to break a silence I’d kept buried deep inside, in that place where you don’t let anyone in.

This is my darkest confession, the story of how my boss stopped being a man with a title and became something much more dangerous to me: the owner of my cunt.

Damián entered my life with authority clinging to every gesture. He didn’t need to raise his voice. It was enough for him to lean against the frame of my desk door and look at me one second too long for me to lose the thread of what I was writing and feel my thong dampen on its own.

At first, what we had was only tension. A current that ran through the meeting room every time we crossed paths. A dangerous game neither of us wanted to give up, even though we both knew what we had waiting at home. Him, married. Me, too.

Soon I understood it wasn’t just power he was after. It was something more intimate, something even he didn’t know how to name. He wanted to shove his cock all the way into me and watch my face while he did it.

I found out one endless afternoon during a meeting. I was presenting some boring numbers to half a dozen coworkers, and he, sitting in the back, never took his eyes off me. He wasn’t looking at the screen. He was looking at me, at my hands, my mouth, the way I tucked my hair behind my ear when I got nervous. I finished the presentation with my voice shaking and no one understood why. I did: my thong was soaked and my legs were clamped tight under the table.

That very night I got the first message that crossed the line. I won’t say what it said, but I read it three times in the bathroom, with two fingers buried in my cunt and my heart pounding in my throat.

We started writing to each other. Messages in the early hours, first about work, then about any excuse, until excuses were no longer needed. We arranged to meet without anyone suspecting. And since we both wore a ring on our finger, there was no bar possible. It had to be in the office, after everyone left.

***

That day I got there early and couldn’t work properly. Just imagining what would happen made my legs go soft. I was nervous, wet, and trembling all at once, glancing at the clock every five minutes while pretending to sort folders that didn’t need sorting.

At seven, the office started to empty out. By eight, four of us were left. By nine, only Marcos, who took forever to shut down his computer. When he finally grabbed his jacket and said goodbye, I heard the glass door close and knew there was no turning back.

Damián walked up to me unhurriedly. We played a little, like two teenagers too shy to make the move. He kissed me on the cheek, soft, almost timid, and something inside me broke.

—I imagined a different welcome —I told him, looking him in the eyes.

I didn’t give him time to answer. I grabbed his shirt and kissed him myself, one of those kisses that leave no doubt, shoving my tongue all the way in. He answered at once, with a force that made me realize he’d been holding himself back for weeks just like I had. He bit my lip, sucked my tongue, and I felt the hard bulge of his cock pressing into my stomach through his pants.

We melted into another kiss, longer, deeper. My hands slid down on their own to his belt. I unbuttoned his pants while he took me by the waist and, in one motion, sat me up on the desk, sending papers to the floor.

He hiked my dress up to my hips. My stockings were on full display, and with one sharp yank he tore them, leaving me in my thong and heels as my only clothing from the waist down. He spread my legs with a shove, slipped his hand between my thighs, and pressed the wet fabric of my thong against my cunt.

—Look at how wet you are —he murmured against my neck—. You’re leaking, Renata.

He circled his fingers over the fabric, pressing my clit, and I threw my head back with a muffled moan. Then he slid two fingers in at the side of my thong and shoved them into me. He didn’t even need to force it: they went in like butter.

—Damn —I heard him say—. You’re already open.

He took them out and pushed them back in slowly, searching for that spot inside me that makes me see stars. When he found it, he curved his fingers and started massaging me from within while his thumb rubbed my clit. I clutched the edge of the desk with both hands, mouth open, unable even to moan. I was a hair’s breadth from coming right there, but he read me and pulled his fingers out just in time, leaving me empty and my cunt throbbing.

He brought them to his mouth and sucked them slowly, watching me.

—You taste delicious.

He took off his shoes and lowered his pants. When he was left in his boxers, I lost my breath. The outline of his cock was huge against the fabric, thick, long, with a dark stain on the tip where the boxers were wet. It can’t be that big, I thought. My husband is no boy, I know that well, but what Damián had between his legs was in another league. I bit my lip, not knowing whether to laugh or be scared.

I lowered his boxers myself. His cock sprang out heavy and hard, the head swollen and purple, thick as my wrist. My mouth watered. But before I could bend down to suck him off, he shook his head.

—Not yet. Me first.

He kissed me again and turned me against the desk. He bent my torso forward until my ass was raised and my tits were crushed against the cold wood. He positioned himself behind me, pulled my thong to the side and started stroking me with his fingers, opening my cunt lips, parting them, leaving me exposed.

—What a pretty cunt you’ve got —he said softly—. Pink and all wet for me.

Then he knelt. I felt his tongue trail over me, slow at first, from bottom to top, from my clit to the edge of my ass. He licked me without hurry, sucking each lip one by one, slipping his tongue inside my cunt, pulling it out to go back up again. I held on to the desk as best I could, forehead resting on my own arms, my ass raised and begging for more.

When he fixed his mouth on my clit and started sucking, my knees almost gave way. He sucked it, let it go, flattened his tongue over it, sucked it again. At the same time he buried two fingers in my cunt and moved them to the rhythm of his mouth.

—Don’t stop —I begged in a whisper—. Please, don’t stop.

And he didn’t stop. Every time I thought he was going to ease up, he tightened a little more. He added a third finger. He opened me, filled me, sucked harder. I didn’t last long. The first orgasm hit me without warning, hard, like a jolt that shot from my cunt up to the nape of my neck. My whole body clenched, my cunt squeezed his fingers, and I had to bite my arm not to scream and have half the building hear me. I felt it spilling down the insides of my thighs while he kept licking, swallowing everything, not lifting his mouth until I finished shaking.

—Are you okay? —he asked when he heard my moans.

—I’m perfect —I managed to say, still trembling.

***

I turned and knelt in front of him. His cock moved on its own, hard against his stomach, with a thick drop hanging from the tip. I cleaned it with my tongue first, tasting him, then took it with both hands and started slowly, from the head, because I honestly didn’t know how I was going to fit it. I sucked the whole head, wrapped my tongue around it, let it go with a wet sound. I ran my tongue along the sides, went down to his balls, took them into my mouth one by one, climbed back up underneath to the tip.

Then I started taking him in. The first few inches, then a little more, then more. My hand moved at the base, my mouth on the middle, saliva dripping down my chin and onto my tits still covered by the dress.

He put a hand on the back of my neck. He didn’t shove me violently, but he did it decisively, setting the rhythm he wanted. He looked down at me with an expression that mixed tenderness and something much less tender.

—I wanted to check whether what you told me once was true —he said, voice hoarse.

I’d told him in a message, half joking: that I could swallow any cock whole. Now he was collecting on that promise. He pressed the back of my neck down and rammed his cock to my throat. I didn’t understand what he meant until I understood it with my body. I ran out of air for a second, my eyes filling with tears that weren’t from sadness, my nose pressed against his pubis, feeling him throb in my mouth. He eased up, let me breathe, stroked my face with a softness that contrasted with everything else.

—Are you okay? —he asked again.

I nodded. And I went back in on my own, swallowing him again to the hilt, holding back the gag reflex, letting the saliva run down over his balls. I pulled off with a gasp, spat on the tip, and slid him back in, this time setting the pace myself, grabbing his ass to keep him pressed to my face.

—Enough —he panted, yanking my hair back—. Enough or I’ll come in your mouth right now and I want to come inside you first.

He put me back on my feet, facing the desk.

—I want to have you like this all night —he told me in my ear—. Before each of us goes back home.

He tore my thong off in one yank. He started moving behind me while I lifted my hips, rubbing myself against him, dragging my ass over his cock, wetting it with my own slick. He grabbed it and started sliding the head over my cunt lips, up and down, not entering, teasing me.

—Ask me for it —he said.

—Put it in me.

—Harder.

—Put it in me, please, fuck me now.

When he entered, I felt like I was splitting in two. He was huge and it hurt at first. I clenched my teeth, took a deep breath, and endured the first few inches, then the middle, until I felt his balls hitting my clit and knew he was all the way inside me. More than anything I wanted him not to stop.

—Damn —he growled—. How tight you are.

Damián held my hips with both hands and started pounding. I panted, moved in circles, searched for the angle that would make me see lights. He drove into me, slamming his cock against the desk again and again, pulling almost all the way out before burying it in one thrust. My hips crashed against his with the sound of wet skin, which made me even more ashamed than the act itself, and the desk creaked beneath us.

He slapped my ass. Then another. He grabbed my waist, lifted me a little higher and changed the angle, and there he hit a spot inside me that made me howl into my arm.

—Slower —I asked, and immediately regretted it—. No, like this, like this is good.

He bent over my back, slid one hand around front and found my clit. He rubbed it in circles while he drove into me from behind. With the other hand he grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, forcing me to arch.

—Come again —he ordered in my ear—. Come with my cock inside you.

I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Neither was I. I moved with everything I had, shameless, not recognizing myself, giving him my ass, squeezing him with my cunt every time he pulled out, sucking him in when he came back in. He couldn’t stand that last change in pace.

—Like that, ah, like that —Damián moaned.

—Yes, don’t stop —I answered—. Don’t stop now, give it all to me.

—I’m coming —he said, squeezing my hips so hard it hurt—. Renata, I’m coming.

—Inside —I panted—. Come inside, fill me up.

We came almost at the same time. I clenched all over, my cunt spasming shut around his cock, and he emptied himself with a deep groan from the bottom of his chest. I felt the hot spurts exploding inside me, one after another, while he kept thrusting in little pushes to leave me every last drop. He stayed resting over my back, his cock still inside me, both of us breathing as if we’d run miles, sweaty and trembling over a desk full of crumpled papers.

—You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time —he murmured, still pressed against me.

I didn’t answer. When he pulled out, I felt the semen leaking down the insides of my thighs, warm and thick. I turned around, looked at him, and knelt again, this time without being asked.

***

I cleaned him slowly, gathering with my mouth what was left of both of us. I licked his cock from the balls to the tip, sucking away every last trace of cum mixed with my juices. He squirmed, sensitive, trying to pull away between laughs, but I didn’t let him. I took his balls in one hand, the base in the other, and kept sucking him until he was half-hard again in my mouth. I enjoyed every second of having him like that, surrendered, with none of the authority he walked into the office with every morning.

That night I understood there was no going back.

I became his secret for as long as I worked there. Almost every morning we found a gap in his office, with the door locked and the excuse of a meeting that was never on the schedule. He’d fuck me standing up against the window, or I’d sit on top of him in the leather armchair and ride his cock while he sucked my tits. Some afternoons we stayed until dawn, making up urgent reports that justified the overtime, and he would end up coming on my face or in my ass or wherever he felt like it.

I learned to read him. I knew when he was going to look for me by the way he set his coffee cup on my desk without saying a word, just with a look that was worth a thousand words. I’d stand up a few minutes later, as if I were going to get water, and walk to his office with my legs already weak and without a thong: I’d learned not to wear one on the days when he wore that blue tie.

The strangest thing was the double life. During the day, in front of everyone else, we were boss and employee. He’d correct a report in a cold tone and I’d answer with a “yes, of course” so professional no one would have suspected a thing. Inside, meanwhile, I’d remember what that same man had done to me hours earlier against the filing cabinet, with my skirt hiked up and a hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t scream.

I came home that first night with torn stockings in my bag, my ruined thong wrapped in a tissue, my cunt burning, and a smile I couldn’t erase. My husband asked how the day had gone. I told him it was heavy, that the office was killing me. I wasn’t entirely lying. That night I fucked him too, still with Damián’s semen drying inside me, and came thinking of someone else.

What came after that, the things we tried, the limits I crossed almost without realizing it, I still don’t dare to write. There were nights when Damián asked me for things I never would have imagined consenting to —my ass, another woman, being watched— and the worst thing —or the best— is that I said yes to almost all of them.

But I’ll save that for another confession. For now, it’s enough for me to have said out loud what for years I only dared to think.

With love, Renata.