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I made it to the clerk’s office at 4:28.  I’d run the fifteen flights and seven blocks from my office to the courthouse and sprinted from the metal detector to the filing desk.  The frumpy clerk frowned at my disheveled appearance as I panted, my hair still mussed from Andrew’s hands only now plastered with perspiration, my linen suit discolored by patches of absorbed sweat.  Nevertheless, she stamped the document with the date and my job had been saved.  For the moment.

Andrew was waiting in my office when I returned.  “You’d better shut the door and check your email,” he said curtly before I could get a word in.

Still off keel from the blow job he’d coerced from me and somewhat exhausted from the run to the courthouse and the walk back in the sweltering May humidity, I shuffled to my desk and sat down.  The email was addressed to only me but written for Jack, a clear indication of Andrew’s willingness to send an identical transmission to the supervisory partner of my division at the law firm.  It accused me of having threatened to withhold a positive evaluation from Andrew at the end of his summer internship unless he “allowed” me to fellate him.  It said that, intimidated, Andrew had given in to my demand but that, while I was performing my “lewd and despicable” act, he’d snapped a picture with his cell phone to preserve the evidence.  The picture was included in the email.

After I’d read enough to get the gist of it, I propped my elbows on my desk and buried my face in my hands.  I was toast.  Andrew didn’t need to say another word; I understood the situation perfectly.  That didn’t stop him, of course.

“So, Robbie boy, you can see where we stand now.  Even if you denied the sexual harassment, and even if the partners believed you, the picture provides all the evidence that you did have inappropriate relations with a subordinate, and at work.  Your face, my cock, and your desk in the background, are all unmistakable.  I think you know where that puts us.”

I sat back in my chair, defeated.  I leaned back in my leather chair and glared at him, too tired, too broken, to resist.  “What do you want, you sick fuck?”

He smirked back at me, delighted at how perfectly his evil plan had come to fruition.  “Aw, come on Robbie boy, it’s not going to be that bad.  I mean, after all, you do want me.  I could tell from the introductory meeting after orientation on Monday.  And you all but splooged yourself when I told you I thought you were hot this morning.  When you sucked me off, even though you thought you didn’t want to, your cock was dripping juice like a leaky faucet.

“Actually, it’s not going to be that bad a deal for you,” he continued.  “The way I look at is, you’re going to be promoted to full associate soon, maybe even before fall.  And I think it’s pretty much in the bag that they’re going to hire me next year after I pass the bar.  So it’s in my long-term interest to keep you here, on the fast track.  In a few years, you’ll be a senior associate, then counsel, then partner.  When Jack’s ready to retire, if you keep your reputation intact here, you’ll be taking over from him.  And I’ll be right there with you, following in your footsteps, right?  So it’s not in my best interest to fuck up what you’ve got going here.  Provided,” he said ominously, “that you do exactly what I tell you to do.”

“And what is that?” I asked, loathing dripping from my voice.

His smirk vanished and his face grew stern.  “First of all, whenever we’re alone, you’re going to treat me with respect.  I own you now, after all.  You don’t challenge any of my orders and you can start calling me sir.  I’ll call you Robbie boy, or bitch, or slave, or cunt, or whatever the hell I want to.  Now, of course, that doesn’t apply when we’re in front of the firm.  We don’t want anyone getting wise to what’s going on here.  So we’re going to pretend we’re pals.  I’m the good intern and you’re my big brother mentor, the junior associate who’s taken a professional shine to the kid getting his foot in the door.”

“So you want me to do all your work for you,” I muttered aloud.

He glowered.  “I didn’t hear a ‘Sir,’ in there, bitch!  Let’s be clear, if you disobey me, you’ll be punished.  And if that means I have to humiliate you here, in front of your colleagues, don’t think I won’t do it.  Lemme hear you practice saying it a little.”

“Sir,” I said reluctantly.

“Again,” he demanded, “with enthusiasm.”

“Sir,” I said again, flatly.

“Look at me and sell me on it.  I’m a hostile jury.  Make me believe you.”

I looked into his eyes, forcing my features to soften, my gaze warming.  “Sir,” I repeated, softly, as if caressing him with my voice.  He was delighted.

“Yeah!  Like that!  Remember that,” he crowed as the resentment welled within me.  “You got it right, finally.  But you’re wrong about the work thing.  I intend to do all my own work, both because I want the experience and the knowledge and because I want to interact with the other lawyers in the division.  After all, I need their evaluations after my internship if I want to get the job offer, right?  Oh, by the way, you’re going to make it clear in a few weeks that your new mentoring role makes you feel like you’d have a conflict of interest evaluating me, and you’re going to recuse yourself.  You’ll put it in writing for Jack, too, so I know that you don’t get any stupid ideas after the summer is over.”  His smirk was back.  He deserved it.  He really had planned everything.

“Now, get over here on your knees, bitch,” he ordered.

“Why?” I asked.  His eyes turned to fire.

“OK, that’s your last freebie, you got it?  No ‘sir’ and you challenged my orders!  The next time it happens, there’re going to be consequences.  And I’m not bluffing!  Now get the fuck over here!”

Knowing the situation he’d put me in and discomforted by his apparent anger, I reacted meekly.  I rose, moved over to the chair he sat in, and knelt in front of him.  He took my hair with one hand and slapped my cheek with the other.

“Asking me ‘why,’” he muttered under his breath.  He looked down at me and continued.  “Now, get my cock out and put it in your mouth.  I don’t want you sucking on it, though, just hold it there and look up at me.  That way I know you’re not going to do anything stupid like try to argue with me while I explain your new life.”  I complied wordlessly, opening the fly to his trousers, fishing into his silk boxers (where I noticed how large his balls felt), and pulled out his thick, five inch long, soft cock.  I placed the head between my lips and tilted my face back up to his.

“Yeah, see that’s a good bitch,” he murmured, the lazy, stoned California beach boy tone rising in his voice.  He started petting my hair with his hands.  “You’re gonna get here every day at 7:30.  You’ll come in and take off all your clothes here in your office, OK?  I mean you’re going to be bare-ass naked.  Your office is my first stop and you’re going to suck me off.”  He must have seen my eyes widen.  “Don’t worry, I always get here by 7:45 so you should be done by the time most of the guys start coming in at 8:00.  If you do a good enough job, anyway.

“So you’re gonna eat my morning load, and anything you miss when I shoot, or anything you don’t swallow fast enough, you’re gonna wear for the rest of the day.  If it’s on your face, tough shit.  If it’s on the rest of your body, maybe you’ll luck out and your clothes will hide it—well, hide the sight of it, anyway.  My morning load is usually pretty rich, so I’m sure it’ll have a nice smell until it dries and gets all crusty.  Then, after you’re done, that’s it for the day.  We go back into our buddy mode, right?  Oh, the only other thing is you have to check out with me every day before you leave for the night.  We can tell anyone who gets suspicious that it’s like a daily review, where you’re being all mentor-like and seeing how my day went.  Really though, you’re gonna suck my cock again some days.  Not every day, because I might be going out that night and getting some from some other bitch.  We’ll just play that by ear.

“Now, I know when you suck me off, you’re gonna get hard like you did today.  But I don’t want you jerking off that little cock you’ve got.  In fact, I don’t want you jerking it off at all unless I tell you.  You’re probably gonna freak out about that at first and think that I’ve got no reason ever to let you get off, but you’re wrong.  See, sometimes I’m gonna let you shoot a load because it’s going to make you not want to do something I order you to do.  You know, you won’t be as horny after you shoot so if I give you an order that takes you to the edge, I know you’ll be doing it because you have to obey me, not because you’re all juiced up.

“Which brings me to another point.  Sometimes, and starting this weekend, there’s going to be some obedience training.  I don’t care what you have planned, but from tomorrow night until Sunday, you’re mine.  When you leave here, you’re coming to my place.  You won’t need to pack anything, though, I’ll be done with you in time for you to get ready for work Monday.

“OK,” he concluded, “I think we’re pretty much done now.  Those are the rules for now, but I might change them a little as we go on.  Just remember, if you do what I tell you to do, you’ll be fine.  You’ll keep your job, you’ll keep your reputation and, to all outside appearances, everything will be normal.  You start fucking around and disobeying, though, and I’m going to have to exact some retribution.  And that’s probably not gonna be nice for you around here.  And if you really piss me off, just remember I own your job now.  I doubt you’ve paid off those student loans yet or that BMW convertible I saw in the parking garage.  So I figure you really don’t want to get fired from here and have that “sexual harassment” label stamped on your resume.  Do we understand each other?”

My mind was reeling.  I didn’t like what he’d said at all.  In fact, I felt nauseous.  Nevertheless, I knew my cock was rock hard in my pants, even though I didn’t know why.  Nothing he’d said had appealed to me.  Not being subservient to this little piss ant and certainly not having my career in his manipulative hands.  Nevertheless, I nodded, my lips still wrapped around the corona of his dick.

“Good,” he beamed.  “Now take my cock out, give it a nice kiss on the slit, and put it away.”  Naturally, I obeyed, slipping his cock out of my mouth with a wet plop, holding it in my hand, and kissing it on the lips.  Then, gently, I tucked it back into his boxers and zipped up his trousers.

“I think we’re done for today.  I’ll let you finish up whatever work you’ve got tonight.  Just remember, starting tomorrow, you’ll be here, naked, by 7:30 to eat your breakfast.  And tomorrow night through the weekend, your only plans are to be at my place getting some training.”  With that, he moved to rise, and I crawled back and stood, still somewhat shocked and incoherent.  He turned, opened the door, and disappeared into the hall.

Outside of work, if Andrew and I had met at a club for example, I’d have been happy to date him and maybe, over time, we could explore some of the domination aspects.  I mean I never considered myself in any way submissive--I was always aggressive, usually argumentative, and fiercely independent.  But he was hot enough that if he’d wanted to gradually introduce some new themes, I’d have given them a try.  But what was on the table now was completely different; we hadn’t met out of work.  He was a subordinate.  He wasn’t asking for a date, he was demanding obedience.  And the thought made my dick throb.

I started to think about the problem from another angle:  Andrew was right that it wasn’t in his interest to go public with our new relationship.  It would be worse for me than it would be for him, sure, but it wasn’t the best way to impress the hiring committee.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.  If I just did what he told me to do, he’d leave me alone.  And I’d get to have sex with him.  And explore this domination thing that seemed, for some reason, to get my dick working overtime.  And who, knew?  Maybe I could work something so that after the summer was over, he wouldn’t get hired.  Or, if I got the promotion as expected, I could always try a lateral move to a different firm.  Changing now would suck, because I’d lose rank, but changing after the summer might be just fine.  That started to relax me.  All of me except my dick.

I didn’t jerk off.  It wasn’t because Andrew had told me not to.  I just decided that it was going to be really difficult to go through with his order to blow him off first thing in the morning, and then to basically put myself in his hands for the whole weekend after work, if I’d blown off all my steam.  It was probably a mistake, because I remember dozing off eventually, only to awake face down on the mattress, my legs spread, my ass slightly raised.  I’d been dreaming about Andrew fucking me, and my hard cock was grinding into the mattress as I’d writhed hornily.

I skipped the gym.  I didn’t want to have to deal with the hard on in the locker room and I didn’t want to risk showing up late at the office since I had to be there earlier than usual for my daily routine.  The drive to the office was a long one, though the roads were mostly empty.  I couldn’t banish from my mind the knowledge of what was about to happen, and where, and what it would signify.  Was I submitting to his authority?  Or was I merely surrendering to the inevitable?  Was there a difference?

The parking garage was empty.  I parked, took the elevator to my floor, and made my way to my office.  It was 7:33.  Andrew would be there any minute.  I found myself shaking as I began to take off my suit, but I couldn’t decide whether it was fear or nervous anticipation.  It may have been both, because my dripping erection never subsided.  I hung up my suit on the hanger I keep behind the door, removing my shoes, socks, shirt and tie, undershirt, and watch as well.  I opted to leave my underwear--I’d chosen a jock strap to help hide my arousal--on until he knocked.  It wasn’t that the scrap of material would provide sufficient cover if someone else were to walk into my office unannounced, it was more for the false sense of security it provided.  I wasn’t wholly naked in my office, after all.  I figured I could easily slip it off under my desk as Andrew entered.

The leather of my desk chair was cold on my bare ass, though, as I sat and connected my laptop.  I continued to tremble, slightly cold as the air conditioning blew on my exposed skin, but still consumed with anxiety and lust.  I waited idly, not really comfortable with the prospect of beginning any of my work in my present condition.  Nevertheless, I nearly jumped out of my skin when the door suddenly swung open.

“Hey, bitch,” Andrew said as he strolled in.

“Jesus Christ!” I yelled, “You could have been anyone!”  He stared at me blankly as he shut the door behind him.  He stood there, immobile, impassive, inscrutable, his eyes boring into mine.  I turned mine down to the desk, as I had done in the conference room Monday.  Suddenly, I realized what he was waiting for.  “Sir,” I added belatedly.

“Yeah.  Sir.  Don’t forget it again,” he said as he began to walk over to my chair.  “Don’t sweat it, no one’s here yet.  I won’t start humiliating you until the door is closed if anyone’s out in the hall,” he added casually.  Instantly, I panicked.  I hadn’t had time to take off the jock since he hadn’t knocked.  I quickly reached down to my waist and tried to surreptitiously lift my hips to slide them off.  It didn’t escape his notice.

“What are you doing, Robbie?”

“Uh…” I trailed off, feeling my face growing red.  His eyes narrowed.

He stood behind the desk and wheeled my chair out from under the table.  The jock, still wrapped over my thighs, was obvious.  So was my cock, glistening with precum that had dripped out over the head and down the bottom of the shaft.  “Did I, or did I not, tell you to be naked when I got here?”

“You did, Sir,” I replied softly.

“Yeah, I thought I did.  Are you naked?”

“No sir.”

“Finish taking them off and then hand them to me,” he ordered.  I obeyed.  “Get out of the chair, and go kneel down in the corner by the filing cabinet, facing the center of the room.”  I moved to the corner and knelt as he instructed.  “Now put your hands behind your head, elbows pointing out to the sides.”  He watched as I complied.  “That’s the position you’ll be in when I get in here.  Every morning.  Naked and kneeling, just like that.  And naked means no clothes, right cocksucker?”

“Yes sir,” I mumbled, looking at the floor.

“Look at me and say it so I can hear it.”

“Yes sir,” I repeated, glancing up only long enough to mouth the words.

He turned my chair around towards me and sat in it.  “Now come back over here.  Keep your hands up and crawl.  I want to watch your little dick bounce around while you walk on your knees.”  Red erupted over my face and chest as I followed his orders.  “Good boy.  See you can obey when you want to.  And from the look of that dick and the juice it’s dripping, you want to right now.  I was right about you.  I knew from the minute I saw you that you were a bitch just waiting to be shown your role in life.  It was priceless there in the conference room when you took one look at me and couldn’t even finish your sentence.”

He looked down over my naked body.  “You look good, too.  I figured you would.  See, some part of you that you didn’t even know about has been keeping you in shape, keeping you ready for when your master came along.  And now I have.  All we have to do is a little trimming.”  He ran a long, thin finger over the small patch of hair that grew between my pecs.  Other than there, my pits, arms, legs, and pubes, I was pretty hairless.  “I like little blond bitches, but I like ‘em shorn.  We’ll do that later tonight when we start on your obedience training,” he continued.

I cringed at the thought of having my chest hair removed but the overall effect would be pretty minor since I wore suits at work.  Little did I know.

He glanced at the clock.  “We’d better get this show on the road if you want to be done before 8:00 and the gang are here.  Go ahead and take out my cock.”  I reached for his lap and unzipped his fly.  Like the previous afternoon, I reached in, brushing what felt like huge balls as I delicately fingered his shaft and pulled it free.  Still soft, the thick 5” felt hot in my hand.  “This is how it’s going to work every morning, OK?”  His question was purely rhetorical.  “You’ll be naked in the corner, in position.  I’ll come in and sit down.  I won’t have to say a word after today.  You’ll crawl over like you just did, then reach in and get it out.  Then you’ll lean down and kiss it right on the slit.  It owns you, so you need to respect it.

“After you kiss it,” he continued, “you’ll lick it up and down all over to get it wet.  Then I want you to massage the head with your lips.”  He paused.  I looked up at him, waiting for him to go on.  “Well, get to it, bitch!  This is a workshop, not a lecture!”  Hurriedly, I bent down and kissed the lips of his cock.  “That’s OK,” he said, offering his running commentary.  “But from now on, I want you to look up at me when you kiss it.  Try it again.”

I tilted my head up and lowered my face, kissing his slit again.  “Good,” he said softly, almost purring in that deep, lazy surfer voice.  “Keep going.”  I turned back down and stuck my tongue out, licking long swaths up and down the shaft from the corona to the pubes that curled out through his fly as it began to swell rapidly.  When I’d moistened the entire length and circumference, I wrapped my lips around the head and began to massage it as he’d described.  He moaned and shifted in my chair, spreading his legs a little wider.

“Man, I’d let you do my nutsack, too, but then I’d have to take off my pants and that wouldn’t look right if someone walked in on us.”  My eyes widened as I realized the scene that would greet anyone who opened the door:  me, naked, kneeling, sucking Andrew’s cock as he relaxed in my chair, his dick poking out of his fly.  It, with the picture he’d already taken, would play into his hands.  I knew he didn’t want to get caught any more--well, not much more--than I did, but the impression any outside observer would take away was one that clearly put the blame on the interoffice sex wholly on me.

I didn’t get a chance to protest as he took one hand and pushed my face down on his now-hard eight inches.  I gagged a little as the head forced its way into my throat.  Like during the blowjob yesterday, I began to drool because it was so thick I had to completely relax to take it.  I didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey,” he objected.  “Watch the spit.  I have to wear these pants all day.  And you don’t want me walking out of here with a big suck stain in my lap, do you?”  I shook my head no, his dick still rooted in my mouth.  I tried to swallow, massaging his head in the process.  “Hell yeah!” he exclaimed happily.  “Start going all the way up and all the way down on it.  When you back off to the head, lick around it for a minute before you go back down.  And when you get it all in again, go ahead and swallow some more like that.  That rocks.”  I worked as he had described, backing off then going down, his hand still at the back of my head to guide me.  I began with a slow pace, but he gradually increased it.  I managed to time my swallowing, licking, sucking, and breathing just right.  It went on this way for some time, until my jaw began to ache from being stretched open so wide for so long and my throat began to sting with rawness.  He gave no inclination of altering the motion, so I simply continued bobbing my head up and down, my rhythm punctuated by his occasional moan.

At last, his hips began to rock in my chair.  I knew he was getting close and was preparing myself to catch and swallow the whole load.  He had made it clear the day before that anything I missed I would be forced to wear all day, and the prospect of having dried cum crust on my face in the office was wholly unappealing.  He surprised me though when he pulled my head back and off, then wrapping his hand around his shaft just below the head.  I sat back on my haunches as he panted.  “Usually, you’re gonna eat this all for breakfast, but not today.  Today you were bad.”

He didn’t stroke his dick so much as he frantically rubbed the underside of the head, his fingers still tightly clutching the shaft.  When he moved his other hand, still clutching my jock strap, to the head of his dick, I instantly understood.  Sure enough, with a gasp, he began to shoot, propelling long, thick ropes of white cum straight into the pouch.  He shot at least eight times, each spurt with a force that probably would have made it to my face--now a yard away--as the air filled with the distinctive scent of fresh cum.  He had been right yesterday when he’d said his morning load was rich and smelly.  As the last of his spunk began to flow, he dropped the drenched jock onto the desk.

“Get over here and suck the rest out.  There’s always a lot left in the pipes after the fireworks are over.”  Although I worried about the persistence of the obvious aroma, I was eager to taste him again.  I closed my mouth around the head and sucked gently, licking at it, swabbing at the cum.  It seemed to me to be abnormally sweet, but still replete with the smoky, bleachy tones of a good load.  He was right, too, in that there felt like a more than respectable amount of cum still inside his dick and I sucked it out like a milkshake through a straw.  I swallowed it down as he stroked my hair with one hand.  “See, Robbie boy, that wasn’t so bad.  You did a good job.  Your office is going to smell for a while, but you won’t notice it much.  Just keep everyone else out of here.  Usually, you’ll take it right in the mouth so it won’t get into the air, but today you were bad.”

He pushed me off his cock and held out his slightly-spunked hand, the other, clean one, still in my hair.  I needed no instruction to lean down and lick it clean.  “OK, now you lean down and kiss the slit like you did at the beginning and put it away.”  I obeyed.  “Now crawl back to your corner.  And go backwards, I want to see your little dick dance again.”  I against clasped my hands to the back of my head and walked on my knees back beside the filing cabinet as he stood.  The clock read 8:10.  We’d run a little over, but hopefully his exit from my office wouldn’t be too conspicuous.  He noticed the time, too.

“Maybe from now on we’ll start about fifteen minutes earlier.  You took a little long, but that’s OK, I liked it.  You did good today, Robbie boy.  Keep it up and this will be really easy.  I mean, your little hard on down there says you liked it and all, so you’ll probably start looking forward to your breakfast.  If you’re not already.

“Now, two things, though.  Naked means no clothes, right?  So you’re gonna put that jock back on and you’re gonna wear it all day for not being ready.”  My jaw dropped.  He went on, nonplussed.  “Once it dries, the stink of my sperm shouldn’t be too bad as long as you don’t sweat or anything to get it wet again.  I’d recommend leaving your trousers off until it’s dry, though, you probably don’t want it soaking through.

“I’ll come get you when I’m ready to leave for the day.  Be finished with what you need to do before Monday by then, because you’re not going to have any free time this weekend.  And if you finish early, tough shit, you’re staying here.  I’ll open the door and say thanks for letting me read your filing yesterday and ask you if you want a beer.  You’ll say sure and follow me out to the car.  We’ll take your car to my place.  And when we get there, that jock had better still be dried to your pubes or else you’re going to be in a world of hurt.”

And with that, he cracked the door, checked the hall, and then ducked out, closing it behind him.