He’s Begging For It

“I called this meeting today to discuss next quarter’s sales projections…”

Did I really get dragged away from my desk (and the porn I was pretending not to watch on my phone) for this shit? Another goddamned meeting that could have been an email – as usual.

I need a distraction. I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened my favorite app. No, not bullshit Candy Crush or even annoying-as-fuck Facebook. This one let’s me sext and video chat with hot women – one in particular.

“Bob? Are you with us?”

Shit! Caught.

“Sorry, Phil. Working a deal right now. Don’t want this one to get nervous right when I’ve got ’em hooked.”

Dumbass looks impressed. “Keep up the good work, Bob.”

I gotta hide the smirk. “Will do, boss.”

Don’t even ask how much that word pisses me off. Little shit got the job, and I got the fucking shaft but not the way I like to get shafted. Damn, I need to calm down. I know what to do.

Is she available? I hope so. I could really use her help right now.

Mistress? Are you available? Your man-slut needs you so bad.

Shit? Is my phone on silent? Yeah, we’re good.

Hey fuckboy. How do I know you need me? Prove it.

If I could talk, I’d probably whine. I can’t exactly send a dick pic right now.

Ma’am, I’m stuck in a meeting with a douche of a boss. I want to show you how much I need you, but I can’t. How else can I prove my need?

Damn, my dick is already hard. Hopefully this meeting will last long enough that no one will see the tent I’m making.

Use your words, boy, like I taught you.

God, I think I’m in lust with her. If I could find a Mistress like this in real life, I wouldn’t give a shit who my boss is.

Mistress, my little dick isn’t worthy of you, but it’s already leaking. My balls are tight. My prick is hard. I can’t concentrate on this meeting. I’d rather worship your beautiful pussy with my tongue.

Did Marge just look over my shoulder? What the –?

And I want to grind your balls under my heel until you beg for mercy. Would you like that, slave?

Fuuuuuuck, I love it when she threatens to hurt me.

Yes, please, Mistress. Your worthless slave loves everything you do to me.

Beg me, then, and maybe I’ll let you touch that limp, sad sausage of yours.

Ah, damn, she sent me a picture of her pussy – pink and wet, her lips just hanging out. I’d kill to run my tongue over all that. I’m fucking rock-hard now. I almost don’t care that Marge is eyeing me. Maybe she saw that pic. Serves her right.

“Bob, that must be a big deal you’re working there. Do you need to leave the room?”

Shit! I forgot about the meeting. And there’s no hiding this hard-on.

“Naw, I’m good. I’m with you. Projections are up two percent over last year and one percent over last quarter.”

Can I tell you how much I hate sucking up to that loser. I know what I’d rather suck on.

Are you really going to make me wait? Or are you being a bad boy and jacking off without permission – again?

Trying to hide the phone in your lap, sext your Mistress, keep Marge’s eyes off the screen, and make your boss think you give a shit is tiring as fuck. In case you wondered.

Please forgive me, Mistress. I’m unworthy of your attention or your touch. I’m your slave, and I’ll do anything you ask. All I want is to please you.

Am I sweating right now? It’s hot as fuck in here, but no one else seems to notice. Of course, they’re not all staring at the cunt of a beautiful woman on their phone, either. Or are they? I wonder if anyone else is a freak like me.

If you really want to please me, you’ll let me see just how hard you are.

But I’m in a meeting, Ma’am.

The messages are flying fast today. We’ve never been able to text this quickly before.

I know. Stand up and walk out. I even give you permission to put your notebook in front of your crotch.

Yes, Ma’am.

Wait? How does she know I have a notebook?

“Uh, boss, this deal is blowing up. I’m gonna excuse myself for a moment.”

“Sure, Bob.” The prick doesn’t care. He’s too busy listening to the sound of his own voice.

Hold the notebook to your left. Don’t obscure my view.

What the fuck?! She’s here somewhere?

As I stand up, holding the pad to my left, my junk is nearly eye-level with…Marge. Holy…is she…wait? Did she just wink at me?

Keep going. Don’t look back. Head to the men’s room. Get that picture. Solve the mystery later.

Don’t lock the door, boy.

Goddamn it’s hard to breathe right now. Is this a serious mindfuck? Is Marge my Mistress?

Pants down, cock out, thick and oozing cream. Take the picture, then jack off. Can’t believe I have to remind myself of that.

What’s that click? Did the door get locked?

“Send me my picture, slut. Then maybe I’ll let you have what you want.”

Fuck me, I know that voice.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

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