Tied up and used in his office after hours.

I shouldn't have gone, but I wanted to. He'd been testing me in the office for weeks, brushing his hand too close, leaning in a little too long. That night, he told me to come back after everyone had left. The moment I entered, he locked the door and pushed me against his desk. He took off his tie and wrapped my wrists behind the chair so tightly I couldn't move. My chest heaved, half-frightened, half-desperate, as he circled me like I was his property. He ripped up my skirt, ripped off my panties, and bent me over the desk so my face was pressed against the cool wood. I saw my reflection in the blank computer screen, mouth agape, looking like a whore caught red-handed. The way he fucked me was reckless, papers flying everywhere, his hips slamming into me so hard the desk shook. My wrists stung from the struggle, but that only made me wetter, knowing I wouldn't release until he was finished. He thrust deep inside me, shoved my ruined panties back into place, and left me dripping wet on his chair while he adjusted his shirt as if nothing had happened.