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Mr. Fushiguro was a marvellous man to be under the employ of. He didn’t rule with an iron fist, he never got angry or disrespected his staff. He was a gentleman through and through, suave, sophisticated and composed. It made your heart ache when you realised everyone else in the office had forgotten his birthday. It was unfortunate that his birthday fell on the same night as the biggest office party of the year, New Year's Eve. While everyone was getting drunk, photocopying their behinds on the machines and kissing under the leftover Christmas mistletoe; Mr. Fushiguro was sitting silently in his office doing paperwork. You didn’t enter, but you could clearly picture him in your mind with a pen in one hand and a tumbler of whiskey in the other.
You were sitting on your desk outside of Mr. Fushiguro’s office. A few of the men who had some Dutch courage in their system had approached and propositioned you, but you turned them down instantly and they backed off. People in the office didn’t usually bother communicating with you on a day-to-day basis since you were just Mr. Fushiguro’s secretary. They saw you as nothing but a skirt and a pet to him, but it wasn’t like that. He respected you and was appreciative of everything you did for him. It was hard to not feel the blood fill and warm up your soft cheeks whenever he complimented you.
While you were zoned out thinking of your wonderful boss; you just about jumped out of your skin when you saw a wild head of obsidian locks saunter through the office. Megumi stormed through your workplace, even bumping into your legs that were dangling over your desk due to his furious, uncaring pace.
“Megumi you can’t—!”
He didn’t even let you finish before he’d already swung open the door to Mr. Fushiguro’s office. Your boss stood to his feet when he realised his son was here. You tottered after the teenager and stood in the doorway while you attempted to tell him he couldn’t be here as his father was busy. However he ignored you completely.
“It’s okay, can you give us the room babe?” Mr. Fushiguro requested. You felt your stomach drop at the pet name. He’d never said anything like that to you before and it felt unusual but completely welcome. You were embarrassed that he said it in front of his son, but you shut the door behind you as you smiled and left the room.
“Babe? Fucking babe? Real original to be fucking a secretary behind your wife’s back.” you heard Megumi roar behind the door.
You were thankful that everyone else was too preoccupied enjoying the New Year’s festivities. The time was prevalent in your mind, you were worried that if they carried on bickering they’d be arguing with each other into the New Year. You literally crossed your fingers and hoped they’d resolved their differences as the thought entered your mind.
“I’m not fucking her you little idiot. What’s the matter with you? You think I’d do that to your mother?” Mr. Fushiguro answered.
You’ve met Megumi’s mother a handful of times. She’s got an extremely loving and warm presence about her. It was difficult to know for certain what she actually thought about you. But whenever she came to the office she was nothing but sweet to you. You hoped she didn’t think you were fucking her husband, Megumi was right, it’s such a damn cliché.
“Then why the FUCK are you spending your birthday… New Year’s Eve in your fucking office? Do you think that’s normal? When you have a family at home? Huh?” Megumi yelled, you could hear clattering on the other side of the door. You could only assume he was throwing things and pushing objects over to accentuate his speech.
You heard one more loud thump and then suddenly everything went quiet. Curiosity got the better of you and you leaned closer to the door to get better access to their conversation.
The little glass feature in Mr. Fushiguro’s door gave you a clear picture of the scene unfolding behind it. It shocked you to see him with his fists balled into his sons shirt. Mr. Fushiguro had him pressed firmly against a wall and you began to worry that he wasn’t the calm and composed man you thought he was. You feared for the young boy under his grip.
“Megumi, son, for fuck sake. I am at work. I have to be here to keep a roof over your stupid head. To put food on the table. To buy whatever your materialistic little heart desires,” you managed to hear Mr. Fushiguro whisper into his son’s face now that you’d gotten yourself closer. The countdown had begun, you knew all hope was lost of them having a happy start to the year. “I suggest you go home and spend the rest of the night enjoying the festivities with your mother. Go on, fuck off you little brat.”
“I hate you. I’ve always hated you.” Megumi spoke, voice wavering in frustration. It sounds like he might even cry.
“Boo fucking hoo kid. Get out of here ya little shit.” Mr. Fushiguro responded.
He freed Megumi from his grip and you moved as fast as humanly possible in your ridiculously high heels back to your desk. You were pretending to look at your computer, but you’d die of embarrassment if either of them looked at you or the screen long enough to realise it wasn’t even turned on.
Mr. Fushiguro’s son stormed passed you with tear streaks down his face that he hastily wiped away with the back of his sleeve. You felt so sorry for him. It seemed you had misjudged your gentle and caring boss, everything isn’t as it seems on the surface. Your boss approached the door, and just as he looked like he was about to slam his door after his son left he turned his attention to you.
“Workin’ hard sweetheart? Or did you get a good earful?” he asked you, you inquisitively raised an eyebrow feigning that you had no idea what he was talking about. He pointed behind you and you instinctively turned around, “Your fuckin’ screen isn’t on darlin’.” he laughed as he finally shut the door.
You’d spent the last hour hanging around the office accountants, the other rejected nerds who the ‘real’ employees wouldn’t talk too. The mortifying exchange between you and Mr. Fushiguro hadn’t left your mind. You would have been happy to sit alone by your desk all evening, but you thought having a conversation with some other people would help distract you from your inner shame. However the party started dying down, and you had to talk to Mr. Fushiguro before everyone went home. People started filing out as they discussed plans to go clubbing as a sort of after party. But instead of following them, you walked towards the kitchen and opened the fridge.
You baked a cake, a big chocolatey birthday cake for your favourite boss.
You lit the candles on the top with the lighter in your pocket, and you heard a few snide comments from some of the people who were yet to leave the office. Things like, ‘kiss ass’ and ‘she must be fucking him’ but you didn’t care.
It didn’t surprise you in the least that everyone else had forgotten your boss’ birthday, so you wanted to give him a reason to feel appreciated. You knocked on his door, awaiting his response.
“Make it fast.” he barked.
You held the cake as steadily as you could in one hand while you opened the door with the other. For some reason you were awfully nervous. You hoped he was too distracted with his work to remember how embarrassing you were earlier, because if he brought it up again you’re sure you’d die of humiliation.
He was scowling with scrunched eyes and a furrowed brow as he went through his paperwork. But his features softened when he saw the sweet sight of his darling secretary holding a homemade cake with candles for him.
“Aw, aren’tcha a doll?” he spoke.
You felt your face warm up again, but did your best to repress the cheesy, proud grin you wanted to release at the compliment.
“I know your birthday is technically over, but I didn’t want you to think I forgot. Happy birthday sir.” you said as you approached his desk to leave the cake there for him. “Do you want to make a wish?” you asked him, leaning over his desk, willing him to answer.
He ran a finger over the top of the cake, coating his digit with the sugary icing he stole. He placed it in his mouth. Mr. Fushiguro held eye contact with you as he sucked it slowly off his finger. The sight made your heart pound. Your cutesy smile turned into a thin line as you tried to compose yourself.
“I wish—”
“No! If you tell me it won’t come true!” you remind him before he makes the fatal error and ruins his wish.
He stood upright, towering above you and looking down into your big doe eyes. He brought his face closer to yours so that he could really talk down to you.
“Yes it will. Because I always get what I want, he said, his view alternating between you and the burning candles. “I wish, my ungrateful family would stay out of my business.” he spoke. He continued holding eye contact as he blew the flames away. “Put the cake over there for me gorgeous.” he commanded as he pointed to the console table on the left side of the room.
You picked it up and did as you were told as he sat back down.
“Anything else sir?” you asked him, holding your hands together politely as you awaited his response.
“Nah, get yourself home.” he told you.
“Aren’t you going home?” you asked, you weren’t quite sure why as it sounded slightly out of turn and you aren’t normally one to overstep your boundaries. His fingers halted from writing and a smile found it’s way onto his face. But it wasn’t a sincere smile, it was sarcastic. Like you’d asked something incredibly stupid.
“D’ya think I wanna go home and see that little prick?” he told you.
You cleared your throat and turned to leave. But before you opened the door, before you planned to say goodbye. You turned around and approached his desk. He studied you as you did, trying to predict what your next move or words would be.
“It’s a fresh start sir, I think you should go home and patch things up with him.” you spoke sternly, not sure where this confidence had came from all of a sudden.
“What fuckin’ business is that of yours darlin’? Why’s that any of your concern?” he queried with derision dripping from his strict tongue. He raised one eyebrow and looked at you with complete malice as he awaited your reply.
“It’s not… sir, but I think you’ll regret it.”
He slammed his palms into his desk and stood up again. Mr. Fushiguro eyed you up like an animal plotting how to utterly eviscerate it’s pray. You shuddered under his gaze, preparing yourself for whatever he was about to say. The loud sound of the slap against his desk was still playing in your ears and making you quiver.
“You could’a just gone home sweetheart. I’m in no fuckin’ mood to be getting parenting advice from my childless secretary.” he spat as he brought his face closer to yours.
Your breathing was erratic as you had no idea what he was talking about. Aren’t you allowed to leave? Is he planning on kidnapping you? Holding you hostage? Murdering you? He ran his tongue along the top row of his teeth, and before you even realised what was happening, he ripped open your shirt. Buttons flew in all directions, the buttons cascading with the ground sounded like torrential rainfall. You wanted to speak, to object. But before you could, Mr. Fushiguro had lifted you up and over his desk like you were lighter than air. You were standing directly in front of him now with no desk keeping the two of you apart.
“You wanna be useful to be so fuckin’ bad don’tcha darlin’? Huh?” he asked you while he furiously yanked down the zip on your office skirt. He forcefully shoved it down to your ankles, and helped you out of it by lifting you and placing you on his desk like a fragile doll. When you didn’t answer, you felt his stinging palm strike the side of your face. “Are ya deaf as well as a meddling little cunt?” he spat.
“No sir- I’m sorry… Wanna be useful sir…” you pouted, holding the reddening handprint on your face in an attempt to soothe the ache.
He seamlessly began to unbuckle his belt with one hand as he glided a finger up and down your clothed cunt. You were shivering from the contact. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched. You haven’t wanted anyone to have you like this.
Not until now.
He lowered his trousers and underwear just enough so that his fat cock could spring free. Your breath got caught in your throat as you ogled his manhood. It is the biggest you’ve ever seen with your own two eyes, and you were terrified. He lifted his shirt over his head and revealed his body to you; a body that you quite frankly believed was carved by Gods. He pulled your panties down, but not all of the way off. Your pretty white lace dangled daintily over one ankle, and you didn’t miss Mr. Fushiguro’s cock throb at the sight. You were a personified oxymoron to him. How could you look so sweet and innocent with adorable lace hanging from your ankle with your cunt on display and practically in his face?
Mr Fushiguro began to pump himself slowly as he admired the precious object that had found its way into his office and perfectly on his desk. Happy fucking birthday indeed.
“Touch yourself.” he told you, but you shook your head adamantly. He didn’t appreciate your defiance, slapping you harshly once again in the same spot as earlier. “Thought you wanted to be useful for me sweetheart? So touch yourself. Now.” he instructed.
Tears pricked as your eyes as deft fingers found their way to your sex. You never did enjoy playing with yourself like this, toys were better. You kept it safe and played with your clit, occasionally moving your fingers nearer to your hole to gather more slick. It satisfied him for a moment, but his heavy palm landed on your upper thigh this time, earning a terrified yelp from you.
“Is this how you touch yourself at home? Is this the best you can do for me?” he asked.
His line of questioning made you feel incredibly insecure. You slid two of your slick coated fingers into your mouth and released them with a pop. It felt uncomfortable, but you managed to get them snuggly inside your hole. You pushed them in and out slowly, assuming he’d prefer to savour the show. He looked down at your foot again, your underwear still hanging loosely around your ankle, and then back to your cunt. You didn’t know what you were doing to him. He hadn’t been this hard or this horny in a long time.
“S’fucking naughty. Aren’tcha darlin’? Stuffin your cunt with those little fingers.” he spoke as he ogled you. You nodded, but he didn’t seem to be searching for an answer. Just musing aloud and demeaning you for his own self-fulfilment. “You’ve wanted this to happen forever haven’t you? Do you finger yourself and think of me at home, wishin’ it was my cock?” he questions, and you nod. It’s only half a lie. Because instead of your fingers you use a purple rubbery dildo, although it could never compare to the gargantuan length in front of you now.
He pulls you up by your bra straps and you squeal at the surprise change. He unhooks the back and frees your aching tits, both nipples hard and eager for his touch. Mr. Fushiguro laces his fingers in your hair with one hand and rolls one nipple with the other. As you begin to moan softly, his grip of your locks and your breast become harsher. You can’t help but scream at the painful sensation.
“You’re such a dirty slut. I’m fuckin’ married, you whore, no wonder Megumi thought I was fucking you. Not exactly subtle, are ya? And you fuck yourself while you think about your married boss…” he trails off, looking away for a minute before he gets an idea. “Open your mouth.” he commands. And you do so without hesitation. He forms a saliva glob on his tongue and spits it directly into your mouth. Bits of spittle get onto your face but you don’t mind, and you swallow what he gave you with pride.
Deciding he’s had enough of jerking himself off, he pulls you off his desk and spins you around. He forces you to rest your right knee on the desk while your opposite foot remains on the floor. He kicks the inside of your ankle, inciting you to spread your pussy open wider for him.
You wish he fingered you instead of making you do it yourself. His fingers are thicker than yours and you’re sure he would have prepared you better. On the other hand, you’re unsure that any amount of preparation would have readied you for your boss’ monster cock.
He sheathes himself fully inside and the raucous scream that leaves your lungs is inhuman. But he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t let you adjust. You can’t stop crying, he laughs. He’s laughing because he thinks you deserve it. He thinks you brought it on yourself for interfering in his life. And you were the one who wanted to be useful.
“Toji!” you cried, unable to bare the agony for a second longer. You instantly felt both his palms connect with the globes of your ass and you were sure they’d be bruised tomorrow.
“What happened to Mr. Fushiguro? What happened to sir? Y’think cos you’re my little fuck toy for the night you’re special?” he slaps your ass again and you screech, “What is my name sweetheart? Don’t be shy, you’ve been such a good slut all night. What’s my fucking name?”
“SirR!” your voice cracks, “I’m sorry! I’m s-so sorry sir. Please! ‘s too much!” you plead, hoping he’ll take mercy on you.
“Good. Your pussy is clenching me like crazy ‘cuz you’re s’fucking tight.” he explains. He’s bruising your cervix, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt and the pain is making you sob pathetically. But the way it was hitting, was just right. Each and every thick monstrous inch made your vision cloud and you knew you were close.
“Sir, I’m- I’m gonna- gonna cum. Can I cum sir? Please?” you begged miserably. The vision of you completely destroyed and fucked out made his cock throb inside of you. He needs to be careful, if he didn’t know any better he might think you’re more beautiful than his wife.
“Yeah baby, go ahead and cum. Be a good girl and cum.” he commanded.
With the permission of your boss, you let the coil unravel inside of you and you squirted all over his cock and lower abdomen. His trousers were soaked, as were your discarded clothes.
“Oh fuuuuuck, good girl. Good fucking girl, juuuuust like that. So good f’me baby.” he praised as jets of liquid continued to escape your cunt. You were moaning so sweetly for him, he was desperate to cum so he kept fucking you through your high.
“Wanna cum again sir. Can I cum again?” you were crying uncontrollably. The pain, the pleasure, the stretch, the orgasm, the oversensitivity. It was all too much and you didn’t know how to act. You couldn’t control your actions, but your boss kissed between your shoulder blades in an attempt to relax you.
But that was before he decided to wrap his heavy hand around your neck and yanked you up towards him. His mouth was level with your ear, the combination of his whispers and the tight squeeze around your oesophagus made twinkling lights dance across the back of your eyelids.
“Again? So good f’me gorgeous. This perfect fuckin’ pussy of yours…” he whispered, snaking his other hand to fondle your breasts now that the desk wasn’t blocking access to them. “You want to be my little wifey don’t you baby? My useful little wife. Wanna be Megumi’s new step-mother? How bad do you want it?” he huffed.
“So badly sir, please, please I wanna be your wife. Wanna be yours, wanna cum. Fill me. Fill me up sir.” you babbled, completely and utterly fucked out of your right mind.
He didn’t give you permission, but his lewd words went straight to your spent little cunt. Your orgasm gushed out of you yet again as you moaned through it. He shoved the top half of your body back down onto the desk with a thump as your liquids carried on escaping you. He fucked into you harder, he wasn’t even sure if you were conscious anymore. You stopped moaning and you didn’t say a word. He came inside you, thick creamy cum filling your fucked out hole like a cream donut. Mr. Fushiguro’s moans were boisterous and animalistic, like a man possessed. You weren’t the only one who hadn’t gotten laid in a while. He may be married, but it’s strained. An obscene amount of his gooey essence found itself inside of you, but when he finished he spread your pussy open to watch the white seed drip out of you.
He put your panties back on for you without cleaning you up. He was too enamoured by the delicious vision of his kids filling and pouring out of you. Mr. Fushiguro wanted you to feel him when you came to. He wanted you to wake up with your pretty white panties sticking to your pussy and thighs because he had ruined them. He did his best to dress you with some loungewear he’d left around his office. He put some joggers on himself and laid you down next to him on his black fur rug. A beautiful handmade blanket, likely made by his wife, covering both of your recovering bodies.
You knew he’d never leave his wife for you. He’d never abandon Megumi either, as much as the kid got on his last nerve. But whatever this was. This damn cliché. This naughty little tryst you had together, you hoped it wouldn’t end here.
And you hoped it wasn’t just for birthday’s.