Troy King Erotica

Awesome erotica for awesome adults only

Meet Russ’s Secretary

NSFW.  Not For Minors.  Under 18? Go away.  All characters are over 18.


Samantha is Russ’s secretary and she really does not like him.

For starters, even though her name is on plaque sitting on her desk he still alternates between calling her Cindy and Stacy. Seriously, how dense can one man be? The name is right there; all he has to do is read it. It would literally take him two seconds to learn her name.

For another, she knows all about what happened to Crystal, Russ’s former secretary. Crystal was a smart girl, but she made two terrible decisions. The first was having sex with her boss; that’s always a no-no. From what Samantha has gathered through the grape-vine, the sex wasn’t even all that good. Why would an otherwise smart girl let an asshole like that fuck her mouth all the time?

The second mistake was telling the boss she wanted more and then threatening him. One look at Russ on the first day and Samantha could tell that threatening this guy simply would not work. So, Samantha plays the smart game. Absolutely no sex with the boss. Don’t lead him on. Don’t tease him. Don’t engage with him in anything other than a purely work-related context.

He’s cute, sure, and she’s had a few thoughts about what it would be like to tie him up and do wonderful, awful things to his body.

She’s had some delightfully lascivious fantasies about Russ being tied spread-eagle in her bed while she teases him mercilessly. Stroke him, get him hard and desperate. Maybe wrap her lips around his huge cock. Once he’s sufficiently aroused, gag him and whack him with the riding crop. Tap his balls with the tip and watch him squirm, desperate to get away. Of course, he can’t go anywhere because she’s got him tied securely. Ride his cock until she comes but tell him he’s never getting out if he cums inside of her. Sit on his face and make him wash her pussy with his tongue.

Then, once she’s completely satisfied, either suck him off or, more likely, make him masturbate while she watches.

Samantha trends pretty strongly toward the dominant side. She’s been tied up herself, mostly just to know what it feels like, but it really doesn’t do it for her quite like tying a guy up and just using him. She loves the idea that a man is completely under her spell and willing to do whatever she asks. That, for her, is what makes life worth living.

Tendencies like this make it difficult on the dating scene, since most guys seem to think that letting a woman tie them up is tantamount to cutting off their balls.

Honestly, she doesn’t get it. What’s wrong with your girlfriend wanting to use you like that? They still get sex, they just get it on her terms. She’s had a few boyfriends leave over it, but screw them. She’s not going to change who she is just because some guy feels like he needs to control her.

Still, fantasizing about sex with the boss is one thing, actually doing it is another thing altogether. The fantasies get her wet, but one of the nice things about being a girl is it’s pretty easy to hide when you’re turned on. It’s not so easy for guys. Russ’s huge erection this morning was proof of that.

Almost idly, Samantha wonders what got him so turned on this morning. He seemed a bit flustered, a bit more human than he normally is. Maybe someone got the better of him, turned him on, and made him wait.

Samantha smiles to herself, crosses her legs under her desk and gets back to entering Russ’s notes about the meeting into the computer, confident in the thought that she won’t be working here forever and confident that Russ will run into a woman sometime that will completely own him.

That Amanda girl earlier looked like a contender until she nearly tripped looking back at Russ. Samantha overheard them talking about drinks tonight to celebrate, so they’ll most likely end up having sex. If everything Samantha has heard about Russ is true, that means Amanda is in for a pretty disappointing night.

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This entry was posted on August 6, 2014 by in Stories and tagged , , , .


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