Have some more!

Ugh, your imagination is enjoying humiliating you, as if you weren't in charge of it. You can't believe it, tonight. You can't believe you're going for a refill. Even as you go, you're trying to think about anything else.
...It doesn't work.

Thirty minutes later, you're already on your third glass. Because if it WERE to happen, you would be drunk. He wouldn't care that you are his boss's boss's... whatever, coworker, and could get him fired. Because it's too late. He saw the signs. Not only that you are interested in his offer, but that you hate him, and are interested anyway. So by the time you two got to the bar, even one drink in and he would be confident -- no. Cocky. With a rolled up sleeve he'd grab your ass... no. He'd touch it subtly, as if offering you a chance to pretend you don't feel it. And you do. You totally pretend.

And this is before he's loaded you up any further. How long would you last? You'd be explaining to him how he can't do this, and that you actually dislike him, because of this and that, and you'd have a stupid grin on your face the whole time.

And he would pump you full of drinks, just like he basically promised he would, and you would watch yourself do it. Focusing on how you must look at the moment... what you're behaving like... so much that you'd get totally distracted, and he would guide you out, his strong arm around your soft shoulder, warm to your touch, and his hand scooping up your tit, as he went. As if advertising that he's gonna take you home and fuck you. And you'd be advertising that he's gonna take you home, and fuck you...

And back at his place, he would fuck you however he liked. He'd throw you over whatever crappy couch or table he has, and you'd crumple like a house of cards. He'd slam himself in, like an asshole, and yet you'd still already be wet enough. He'd pull your hair and slap your ass, and all the things assholes think assholes do, and you'd let him think it makes him a stud. Because it means he's totally right. And as your arms went weak trying to hold yourself up, your voice would get louder and louder, even though he's treating you SO shitty. The FACT that you're getting off on his asshole treatment is too much to ignore. He'd cum fast and early, because there's no reason not to, and you'd feel it dripping back out, and peek over your shoulder, and stare at how he bred you, because you couldn't resist what an asshole he was. And he'd lose interest, like men always do, but looking at your free and easy curves he'd use you again, soon enough. And again. And you'd be chewing on your lower lip the whole time. Because you're wading through being brought down to his level. No... you ARE down to his level.

And then you would be caught. Not like a real relationship... he'd have you emotionally blackmailed, where he knows what you want, if only put in the right situation. And he'd knock you up.... ... and he'd still use you, through the whole pregnancy... and absolutely disappear, right before birth...

And you'd get off on it every time, even while sick and scared and frustrated, no wine needed anymore.

Just cause you hesitated today... ... ... ...

You wipe your hand off. Your thighs hurt from quivering and your calves almost cramped. You aren't normally one to have multiple orgasms when masturbating -- It's exhausting, kind of painful and overwhelming. ...But also absolutely what you deserve. And you had a vendetta against yourself tonight, and after all that wine it was the only thing that kept you awake... in fact...

You pass out, on the couch, ridiculously sweaty, slimy and sore and tender.