The Office Takeover
The Miami trip left Graham ruined. His body still ached in the best ways, his mind fogged with submission. But Monday morning came — and with it, the attempt to regain control.
He arrived early, dressed impeccably: navy three-piece suit, polished shoes, tie perfectly knotted. He sat at his corner desk, answered emails, signed papers, trying to remind himself: I’m the boss.
Then Juck walked in.
Juck was in that tight dress shirt, sleeves rolled, confidence radiating off him like heat. He dropped his coffee mug on Graham’s desk without a word, winked… with a smirked on his lip and sat, looking at Graham work.
Graham’s heart pounded, with fear anď anticipation of what Juck can make him do.
At 10 a.m., Juck sent a text that reads
"Under your desk Now".
Graham swallowed hard, checking the door. The office was quiet. He slipped from his chair, heart racing, crawling under his own massive executive desk.
Juck shifted his chair forward.
"Unzip me," Juck whispered.
Graham’s hands trembled as he obeyed, pulling down Juck’s fly. His cock was already semi-hard.
"Show me how good you are, Mr. CEO."
Graham took Juck growing cock into his mouth, cheeks hollowing, feeling humiliated… and wildly aroused. The power dynamic had flipped so completely that Graham no longer questioned it.
Juck placed a firm hand on the back of his head, guiding him. He stayed perfectly quiet, biting his lip to keep from groaning as Graham’s tongue worked along his shaft.
And then… footsteps.
The door cracked open.
"Sir Graham? Quick question on the Perkins account."
Graham froze. Juck didn’t. He pushed Graham’s head down harder.
Juck spoke smoothly to the junior partner. "He’s… occupied at the moment. Send him an email."
Graham felt his cock twitch, humiliated beyond words.
The door shut. Juck grabbed his hair and whispered, "You liked that, didn’t you? Being mine… even with someone right there."
Graham moaned around his cock, nodding, and going deeper making Juck to climax.
Juck finished with a soft grunt, spilling into his mouth. Graham swallowed eagerly.
Juck zipped up and texted two words:
Good boy.
Later that afternoon, Graham found a package in his office: a black leather collar with a small silver tag. Engraved on it:
Property of Juck.
That night, Juck took him home again. This time, he filmed Graham on his knees in his full suit, sucking him slowly.
"Say it," Juck whispered, camera rolling.
"I’m Graham Whitaker, CEO by day… Juck’s cocksucker by night."
"Again," Juck demanded.
Graham repeated it, humiliated and euphoric.
By Friday, it got even riskier.
Juck bent him over the conference room table after hours, fucking him raw on the very surface where Graham had once given powerful presentations. His suit jacket was bunched up around his waist, pants around his ankles, tie still perfectly in place.
"You’re not the boss anymore," Juck growled in his ear.
"I know," Graham gasped, clutching the table. "I’m yours."
Juck thrust harder. "Tell me what you are."
"Your slut! Your obedient bottom bitch!"
Juck roared and came deep inside him.
After, Graham collapsed on the table, panting. Juck kissed his neck softly. "You’re mine."
The following week, Juck began bringing toys into the office — remote plugs, vibrating cock rings. Graham would sit in meetings, face stoic, while his body was shaken with waves of secret pleasure at the push of a button from Juck’s phone.
One day, Juck texted:
Tonight, dinner with the board. You wear the plug. I control when it vibrates. If you moan at the table, I’m punishing you.
The dinner was torture. Juck kept the vibrations steady, low but constant, and Graham had to smile, make small talk, sip wine, all while feeling desperately close to losing it.
That night, Juck did punish him, but with tender cruelty. He blindfolded Graham, tied his wrists and ankles to the bedposts, edged him for hours without letting him cum.
"You only cum when I say," Juck whispered in his ear.
Graham’s brain melted into pure obedience.
Finally, when Juck let him release, Graham sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure.
And Juck kissed him afterward, holding him close. "Good boy. My perfect CEO-turned-plaything
