Do not call Jane

You decide that you’ve had enough of Jane for one day, so you decide to try and get some work done from the hotel, to just finish this job and get out of here.

As you get logged in a message pops up on your screen. It’s from Ms. Martin, “Get you ass back to the office now!”

“Is there something wrong?” you reply.

“Yeah, the something wrong, is that you are not standing in front of my in my office right now.”

With that you grab your stuff and sprint towards the office. The building is empty when you get there, and the security guard isn’t even at her desk.

You nervously knock on Ms. Martin’s door before slowly pushing it open. She sits sternly behind her large oak desk, dressed in a tight-fitting black pencil skirt and form-fitting white blouse that hugs her curvy figure perfectly. Her glasses sit perched on the tip of her nose, accentuating her sharp features.

“Yes?” you ask tentatively, your voice cracking slightly in nervousness.

Ms. Martin remains silent for a moment, studying you intently before finally speaking. “Close the door and come over here,” she says curtly, motioning towards her desk with a flick of her manicured nails.

You do as you’re told, your heart racing in anticipation of whatever punishment or reprimand is coming your way. You walk slowly towards Ms. Martin’s desk, trying to maintain eye contact but finding it increasingly difficult to do so given the generous display of cleavage presented by her low-cut top.

“Now, what do you have to say for yourself?” she asks, spreading out a stack of photos on her desk and leaning forward slightly, causing her breasts to almost spill out of her restrictive blouse.

You lean forward and see picture after picture of your cock bursting out of those tiny briefs and spurting cum all over Sylvie.

Your eyes widen in shock and horror as you take in the explicit images displayed before you. “No, Ms. Martin,” you stammer out in a hoarse whisper. “I-I mean... I’m so sorry.”

“You should be!” she growls, her tone suddenly changing from icy cold to flames of rage. “What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how much damage this could do to not only our company’s reputation but also mine?”

“I-I... I don’t know!” You stutter, your cheeks burning with shame and embarrassment. “I-I wasn’t...I didn’t mean…I…I…” you trail off, unsure of what else to say.

Ms. Martin narrows her eyes at you. “Save your excuses for someone who cares,” she snaps.

You wince involuntarily as your heart plummets into your stomach, preparing yourself for the worst possible outcome: termination or even a potential lawsuit.

Ms. Martin leans back in her chair, crossing her legs so that you get an unobstructed view of her high-heeled shoes propped up on the desk and resting against it, causing her skirt to ride ever so slightly higher, revealing more than a glimpse of the black lace thigh-high stockings she was wearing underneath.

“Ms. Martin,” you say tentatively, unsure of what else to do or say in this increasingly uncomfortable situation. “I-I’m really sorry. It’s all my fault.”

“Shut up.” Ms. Martin cuts you off harshly, her voice like a whip cracking through the silence. “You think that’s what this is about?” she asks, leaning forward again and placing one manicured finger under your chin, forcing your head up to meet her piercing gaze.

“No, I...” you stammer, your voice trembling slightly in fear and confusion.

“Good.” Ms. Martin says softly, her tone now almost sultry. “Because it isn’t.” With that, she slowly slides her finger down your jawline, tracing a trail of fire along the way until it rests lightly against your collarbone. You swallow thickly as goosebumps rise up on your skin where she touched you.

“No,” Ms. Martin continues, her gaze fixed intensely on yours. “What I am really interested in is why seeing you like that turned me on so much.” She leans even closer now, her breath brushing lightly against your cheek as she trails a fingernail teasingly down the line of your jaw and across your Adam’s apple.

“I-I don’t...” You stutter, your words caught in your throat by the sheer intensity of her gaze and touch. “M-Ms. Martin, please...” Your cock has been slowly hardening in your pants ever since she first leaned forward, but now it’s practically aching with need and desire.

“I know exactly what you want,” Ms. Martin says softly, a knowing smirk curving her lips upwards. “And I think I might just be inclined to give it to you... on one condition.” She pauses dramatically, her fingertips teasingly brushing against the button of your trousers before moving to rest lightly on top of your rapidly-growing erection through your pants.

“O-Oh God,” you groan out, your hips instinctively lifting off the floor in silent plea for more. “I’ll do anything.” You beg, desperation and desire warring within you.

“Good,” Ms. Martin replies, “I talked to Jane and Sylvie, and they have agreed not to file a complaint as long as you do one thing.”

“Anything,” you quick reply, feeling the color starting to come back to your face.

“You have to wear the briefs all day tomorrow without cumming.” Ms. Martin informs you.

“Yes!” You practically yell out in relief and excitement, completely forgetting about the previous situation for a moment. “I’ll do it! I swear I’ll wear them all day and not cum once,” you promise fervently.

Ms. Martin smirks knowingly at your eagerness before slowly sliding her hand down your trousers, grasping firm hold of your throbbing cock through your briefs. She squeezes lightly, eliciting a soft moan from you that fills the otherwise silent room.

“Good boy,” she murmurs approvingly. “Now get out of my sight and go home for the day. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.” With that said, she releases her hold on your cock and sends you stumbling backwards towards the door.