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Desk Chair

When he walked into the cube, he knew that Jamal had been rolled again. The product manager, again, had managed to extract some kind of work from him that was not in the schedule, not on the radar, not in budget, not supposed to be done.

He didn't even have to say anything. It was clear from his face.

"Jama"l, he said, "how many time have I told you. You CANNOT agree to anything. You DO NOT OWN YOU TIME. I OWN YOUR TIME."

Jamal explained that it was just a minor tweak, and that he would do it after hours, on his own time.

"No, Jamal. Not OK. What did she ask you to do?"

It was just a little tweak to the UI. Hardly worth mentioning. Wouldn't take long.

He began to go over, again, how there was an entire QA, documentation and delivery universe to be considered, and how these things always expand, and how staying until midnight means crappy work the next day.

It was the stuff he'd been saying often enough that it rolled from his mouth effortlessly. He'd said this to every member of his team, except useless Bill, who does nothing anyway.

She kept getting them to sign up for more work. They did it every time. Some days, being an engineering manager was not fun. Like every time he looked at the Gantt chart.


He found her in her office. She seemed to be there 24 hours a day.

He began his very polite rant, the one he had become tired of hearing himself. She raised a hand, to quiet him, and he could see she was on a call.

And he picked up a pen, and the pad, and wrote "I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE TALKING TO BILL GATES. WE ARE GOING TO RESOLVE THIS."

She looked at the paper, then wrote "8:30PM, HERE." On the pad.

She began speaking to the person on the phone, and he stood for a time, then began to head for his office. She touched his shoulder, the first time he remembered ever having any physical contact with her since he shook hands with her when she was hired. He looked and she was showing him google calendar on her monitor.

It said 4:35 "PHONE CALL with W. GATES."

He walked to his office, feeling rolled himself, but not sure why.

He also felt a bit tingly from her hand on his shoulder.

He worked. He ate a bad burrito. His heart was beating faster, as if in excitement, but he kept trying to work.

At 8:30, he arrived at her office.

She was sitting, eating a meatball sub. Someone had told him she was a vegetarian. That was clearly incorrect.

Her mouth was full, so she stood and closed the door, rather than asking him to.

It was kind of dark in the room. All offices had big windows into the hall, which was standard practice. She put paper over hers. Very attractive paper. "You're not supposed to do that", he thought.

He heard a rushing sound, and saw she had a white noise machine. A very enclosed environment.

He sat in the hard little guest chair that everyone had. Uncomfortable, no arms. There were many comfortable office chairs around that no one used, but if you took an extra one, Tiffany, the COO's admin would come along at 7:00AM, and take them and send you an angry note. So everyone had crappy hard guest chairs.

It was hot in the room, and he was sweating a bit, partly anticipating the conversation. She was sweating also, and he found that the smell made his heart race a little. But he had business.

She began, "so what's wrong with getting more work from your engineers?".

He explained, as he had done so many times, about how there were so many hours, and so many tasks, and he had to make all the tasks happen in the hours he had, and take into account

She was quick to interrupt.

"I'm making this better", she said. "I'm making this the best of breed. I'm taking the time they'd be putting into their xbox, and putting it into our product, and they seem happy about it. They will benefit, you will benefit, I will benefit. What is your complaint?"

"These are my charges", he said, "and it is my butt if things are not delivered when they should be. Your butt is safe. I am responsible for their butts. They look to me. Put your butt at risk, and we'll talk."

He was worked up. He was not exactly angry, but he felt charged and aggressive and not like himself.

She stood, and walked up to his chair. She leaned close to his face, resting her hand on the wall behind him.

"Would you know what to do with my butt if you had it?", she asked. She was smiling, teasing and serious. Pushing.

He was stronger than he looked.

He pulled her across his lap. She seemed too taken aback to react, and he was slapping her ass. Spanking her.

"I'm fired. My career is shot", he thought. "I'm going to jail."

"Is that the best you've got?", she asked.

He was not even in control of his hands as he yanked her panties to her knees, and pulled her skirt up. He was spanking her bare ass. He was saying things, he didn't know what he was saying. "Ass is mine." "Learn to behave." "Keep you in line."

The smell. She was wet. He paused and reached a finger. Very wet. Could she possibly be wet

He was spanking her in her office. While he was doing that, she was aroused.

By the time he realized what he was doing, two fingers were in her pussy, and he was finger fucking her. "This is crazy", he thought. He kept on.


His cock was rock hard in his pants. He could feel it, and he guessed she could too. In for a penny. He picked her up, and then pushed her onto the chair. His cock was ready to explode. He could barely get his shorts over it to expose it.

He pushed it into her and fucked her as hard as he could, harder than he thought he was capable of. Harder than ever with any girlfriend. There was lust and anger, but something else, something more basic.

"Your ass is mine. Your ass is mine."

'Yes", she said. "Yes. Fuck me. Fuck me. My ass is your's."

The cum came squirting into her with the force of a tidal wave. He kept fucking and fucking.

He was kneeling with his cock inside her. Waiting. No one spoke.

In for a penny.

He stood, and she moaned as the cock made its way into the air.

"Clean it", he said. She sat on the floor, then knelt and began to lick and suck him. She looked happier than he had ever seen her. She smiled, looking up at him, with his cock in her mouth.

Why did he say "Good Girl"?

It seemed like the thing to say. It made no sense. He said it three times, and stroked her hair.

He pulled her up. Pulled her face up. He kissed her. "Good Girl, Good Girl."

He sat on the desk. The guest chair was damp.

"Tomorrow," he said, "and any time you have any requests for my engineers, you will come to my house. You will take your clothes off, and you will kneel, and you will ask for your UI tweaks. And I will get them for you."

"Yes", she said.

"And if you go talk to them and don't ask me first, expect a spanking."

"Yes", she said. She was glowing. His hands were on her breasts, and he felt her tremble.

He began to unbutton her shirt.

"Maybe I just made her even more likely to do it", he thought. He unhooked her bra. He kissed her neck, then bit it. He was pinching her nipples. Where was this coming from?

He never did this.

He pushed her to the wall, and began playing with her clit. She was quick to cum.

Kissing, again.

He picked up her panties, not remembering how he took them off, if he had, and slid them onto her legs. He found her socks, and cowboy boots. How had they gotten onto the floor?

When they were dressed, he held her hands for a long time. Then she looked at them, and shook his right hand.

"I'm glad we came to an agreement", she said.

"One more thing", he said.

"Help me move your guest chair into Tiffany's office."

They got to work.

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The skin of your back. The muscles in your shoulders. The ridge of your spine. The curve of your waist. The soles of your feet.

The arch of your torso. The rhythm of your breath. The glistening of your sweat. The grace of your neck. The color of your hair.
The shiver in your movements. The sighs from your chest. The force of your heart. The relaxation of your body. The ecstasy of your surrender.