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My office is based in an old telephone exchange. Half of the building is not office space, the other half a datacenter, racks of servers replacing the mechanical telephone exchange equipment.
You're being difficult today. I've had to work later than I'd planned and you're sulky about having to meet me later than agreed. You've decided to come to my work to try and convince me to leave.
I bring you up to my office. I've told you that I need to finish what I'm doing before I can leave. You're flirtatious and provocative, allowing me to see down your top as you lean over my desk and see far enough up your inner thigh from the way you're sitting to see the delicate skin that responded so well to being bitten hard.
We both know how this is going to go – you love pushing me to breaking point, the flash of satisfaction in your eyes when I finally lose my temper is proof of that and this time will be no exception.
I grab you by your hair. Loosely at first appearance, but with a deft motion, I turn my fingers in your hair until it feels as if my hand is holding your very skull itself. I drag you across to the window. My office is high above the city with full height glass windows.
I order you to put your hands on your head and stand you with your nose almost against the glass. The night is cold outside and your breath marks the glass.
I'm ripping your top open. Buttons bounce off the hard glass and lose themselves at the far corner of the room. Once again you'll be travelling home in ripped clothes, making you proud and ashamed all at once on the underground.
I've reached back to fetch a pair of scissors from my desk. You feel the cold steel blade on your belly and you draw breath. You can just about catch your own reflection in the glass, being held there against your will, what could be a knife blade being held just under your breasts. I slip the scissors under the front of your bra and cut it away. The cups fall away and the air hits your warm breasts.
I surprise you by taking a step back with you from the window, only to then lean you forward, feet behind yourself; it's only my grip in your hair that's keeping you from falling into the glass. I lower you until you can feel the cold air from the glass on your nipples. Helpless; looking out over the London skyline to your left and to the faceless glass of the next door office to the right.
Your nipples are so hard that they almost hurt and as I gently lower you onto the glass so they're the only parts of your body connected to the cold smooth window. Why is it that at times of such powerlessness, you can feel your mind relax so fully.
You can feel my hands working at your lower clothing and you know that soon you'll feel the familiar feeling of me working my fingers into you, forcing their way into your sex and anus at the same time, maybe you'll make a token effort to resist; enjoying feeling the mismatched battle between your internal muscles and my toned forearm.
I'm roughly sawing my fingers in and out of your holes, enjoying their territory, enjoying the discomfort its bringing you. I'm not the only one; as you stare you over the city, your nipples rock hard against the freezing glass, I can feel the juices in your pussy to start to flow as your breath deepens.
"What a compromising position to be seen in" I say as I tilt your head to the right
In the adjacent office block on the floor below ours a cleaner is cleaning the floor.
"All he has to do is look slightly up and he'll see you getting fingered like a slut for anyone to see" I whisper in your ear
To be continued.
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