Every time I walked into Desiree's office for the past few months, especially when she had given me a sadistically wry smile and scheduled a meeting at 6:00 PM, after almost everyone would be assuredly gone for the evening, I had walked down the halls of the office with my shoulders hunched and a sense of dread lodged in the back of my throat. It meant I was to fall prey once more to her demands for unreciprocated sexual favors and verbal abuse upon threat of losing the means of providing for Sara.
I would sit at my desk, getting little work done, staring at the clock, hoping to force it through sheer will power to stop its relentless march into that dark hour of sexual frustration and belittlement. I would sweat, I would cringe, I would feel my blood pressure rising, I would squirm uncomfortably, I would gnash my teeth, I would rub my eyes with the palms of my hands until the insides of my eyelids exploded with color, I would fret, and I would curse my loathsome situation.
It had, of course, occurred to me on more than one occasion to just give up and quit. I had plenty of experience, and had built up enough contacts over the years to reasonably expect a timely response to feelers sent out through my network.
The problem was that the company for which I worked was the only one in the industry that was located in reasonable vicinity. Any new job would necessitate moving my wife away from a job that she absolutely loved and at which she was very proficient. It would mean moving her away from her family, which would also mean moving away from the great sex I was having with her two sisters.
Besides, except for my immediate supervisor, I really liked my job. It was honest, interesting, and dynamic. The company was active in the community and sponsored several different local charities. The pay was relatively good, the benefits were excellent, the commute was short, and I got along great with all my coworkers, especially a certain Asian tart from IT.
Besides, compared to the number of upper-level contacts Desiree had at her disposal, I was a veritable miser. And it would not be beneath that vindictive witch to sabotage each and every opportunity I could muster if I tried to leave. She would view it as a betrayal; an attempt by me to deny her what she truly believed belonged to her.
Over the months, I had resigned myself to an inevitable fate of being a sex slave to a megalomaniacal mistress with a cruel taste for leaving her man-servants unsatisfied and insulted. So it would have been no surprise to you if I told you that on this particular evening, on my way to my boss's office for what was ostensibly another round of sadistic, one-way sex that would leave me blue-balled and humiliated, I walked with the familiar morose shuffle and defeated posture as had become my signature lately.
Not.
This.
Time.
I strode confidently through the hallway, whistling a classic rock tune and admiring the brilliant sunset visible through the windows as I walked past my coworkers' vacated offices. I swept into Desiree's office and gave her a bright smile.
"How's it going, boss?" I asked cheerfully, closing the door behind me and sitting down in a chair across from her desk. I set down a file folder in the chair next to me.
"Shitty," she said, humorless. "That is why I called you in here. You need to cheer me up or lose your job."
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said happily, not really meaning it.
"Well, you can shove sorry up your ass and wipe that stupid grin off your face," Desiree hissed, her eyes narrowing into spiteful slits. Her hands had disappeared under the desk. There was the sound of metal clinking, and I had no doubt what was to happen next. She pulled out a pair of handcuffs and tossed them to my side of the desk. "Get naked and assume the position."
The "position" to which she referred involved me handcuffing myself to the chair so that I was bent over in such a way that she would be able to rub her hairy snatch in my face and then when she was ready, position herself underneath me so that I could fuck her. Of course, the idea was that if I attained orgasm during any of this, I would lose my job.
I glanced at the handcuffs, laying there, shining beneath the cold, fluorescent lights of Desiree's office. My grin grew and a slight laugh escaped that came off as more of a quick, nasal exhale. My eyes rose up and met hers. They had turned into daggers that up until the previous day would have caused my balls to shrivel up into my body.
Now, all I felt was the cool, grim satisfaction that I had last felt during my first encounter with Alicia.
"What's so funny?" Desiree snapped. "Do it, puta."
I looked at her for a moment with that same silky-sweet smile specifically designed to agitate her before simply saying, "No."
"No?" she asked, and cackled incredulously. "You think I'm fucking around when I say I will fire your guero ass in less than a second?"
"I don't think you're fucking around," I said cheerfully. "But I'll be working at this company for a long time to come."
Her brow furrowed. I was confusing her, and I loved it.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" she asked. "Are you high?"
"Hardly," I replied. "I am just enjoying the sense of a job well done."
"Job well done?" Desiree asked. "You work for me! I am your boss! I fucking tell you when you do a good job! And you haven't done a good job until you get me off, you little prick!"
"On the contrary," I replied calmly. I picked up the file folder from the adjacent chair and put it lightly on her desk. "I finished my project for Jack."
I gave her a moment. Reality was dawning in her mind, and the look on her face as her mind raced was priceless.
"You know," I elaborated. "The one where I was trying to figure out why our budget was so seriously out of whack..."
If she had been humorless before, she was absolutely frigid now. "Yeah, I remember. So what did you find?"
I leaned forward and pushed the file folder closer to her.
"That is a COPY...of the findings," I said. She glared at me for a minute, trying to read me. I stared back at her smugly, and quite pleased with myself.
Desiree picked up the file folder and opened it, carefully but quickly perusing its contents. I sat silently and let her thumb through the documents. I had to stifle a giggle when I heard her indignant gasp. I knew exactly what she had found.
"How the fuck did you get into my bank records?" she demanded.
"A hacker I know owed me a favor," I said. I will admit: this was a bit of stretching the truth. Evelyn had agreed to break numerous laws only if I agreed to eat her pussy the entire time she tried hacking into the account. Two hours, five orgasms, and one very sore jaw later, we hit the jackpot. To celebrate the success, Evelyn had returned the oral favor.
"That's an illegal invasion of privacy, you motherfucker!" Desiree shrieked. "You're going to jail!"
"Not nearly as long as you," I replied coldly. "I daresay with the amount you've embezzled over the past ten years, you could very well die in prison."
"YOU BASTARD!!!" Desiree screamed. She violently wadded up the documentation and threw it across the room. Tears began flowing from her eyes, and she stood up and darted across the room to where the wadded up documents were. She picked them up quickly and started straightening them out as she headed to her shredder.
"I told you those are just copies," I said without even attempting to hid my amusement. "You may think I am stupid, but that would just be yet another mistake to add to the very long list."
At that she broke down. She fell into a heap on the floor and wailed into the carpet. Her body shook uncontrollably, and she sobbed incoherent words about "sorry" and "fucked up" and "ruined."
