Dream of

How am I going to afford my dream condo if I quit? Hell, how am I going to keep this place if I quit? If I cut down my expenses now and sock a bunch of money away for a few weeks I might be able coast on savings for a couple months.

Victoria is petty, not that she would never admit it. The second I quit, she will take it personally, even if I insist it isn’t because of her. Fat chance she would give me a positive reference for another job... not unless I have some leverage over her. How do I do that?

I kick off my shoes, strip off my office-wear and jump in the shower. The worries gradually wash off of me, replaced by my latest developing fantasy.

“Please, Warren! Anything you want! I was wrong! I’ll do anything!” I imagine standing over Victoria, watching her beg and apologize on her knees. Her eyes are watery, makeup streaking. Her sheer black hair is tangled and her blouse collar is hanging wide, the buttons torn off.

I grab her jaw, clawing into her cheeks and lean in, nose-to-nose. Gone is the usual emasculating glare in her eyes. She looks scared. “Yes, you will.” I rock her silly head side to side. My groin tingles.

I lather soap across my chest while wondering how my will play out. I'm surprised by the intensity of my hard-on and start stroking roughly, a little disturbed at how dark my fantasies are getting. They started with standard workplace scenarios of her calling me into her office to privately assist her in ways that only I can. Later, they involved her servicing me on demand, her inner slut coming out in spectacular, undeniable fashion. Now she usually plays the role of captive to be used and humiliated. There are so many things I could do to her, things I could extract from her. I want to break her, to diminish her.

I edge myself for a while, imagining Victoria in an escalation of compromising and uncomfortable positions, then I go to sleep.