Jan. Week 2: Monday: SRO--Leah doesn't rush the encounter (Silence: +25, )

Leah bristled, folding her arms and grinding her jaw in a show of mock defiance. Her legs locked at the knees, the familiar flush of humiliation prickling from her chest to her ears. SRO Roberts was already savoring the moment, arms crossed as he took in her discomfort like a pervert at a peep show. She wanted to spit in his face, tell him to get fucked, but instead she just whispered.

"Fine. Take your time. Whatever gets it done fastest."

Roberts grinned, relishing her surrender, and glanced pointedly at her body.

"Good to hear you're learning to listen. Now take your clothes off.”

“I really can’t believe you think you can keep getting away with all this.” Leah huffed as she began to

She looked away, swallowing the bitter taste in her throat as she began to slowly take off her blouse.

"Oh PLEASE!” he snorted. “You are the one fucking your boss while your nice little fiance is at home waiting for you. So give me a break.” The comment hit Leah in the heart like a dagger. But she couldn’t let on that it wasn’t really an affair she was having—or was she? Leah slid her panties down and Roberts commented.

“Damn—lost all your razors this week?” commenting on her bush. It had gotten a bit big. She did need to shave.

“Whatever…” Leah’s eyes rolled into the back of her head with disgust. Leah was soon nearly naked save for her long green socks. She leaned over and began to roll one down but Roberts stopped her.

“Keep em on. They are kind of hot.” He grinned as he looked over Leah and how much control he had over her.

“Oh like a fucking school girl with these high socks. You are a sicko.” Leah said as she unrolled her long sock out again for his disgusted pleasure.

“You are the one fucking your principal in the damn school library so I don’t want to hear shit.” He chided her. She was right though it did give off some schoolgirl vibes to him. He certainly liked watching some of the senior girls who 18 but were built like they were 21 and at a college dorm party. He missed those days.

“Okay.” Leah said flatly when she was nearly naked.

“Oh right.” SRO Roberts came back to his senses as he was quite eager for his senses to…come. “I told you we were going to talk about lockdown procedures.” He said with a wolfish grin as he reached to his belt and pulled out from a pouch a set of metallic handcuffs.

Leah’s eyes went wide.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Leah protested. Roberts’ mouth curled into a sneer as he brandished the handcuffs, the cold metallic jingle echoing in the cramped office.

“No, I’m not kidding. These are department-issued, sweetheart. You’re going to play along so I don’t have to send those videos to your man at home—and maybe the district superintendent while I’m at it.”

Leah wanted to spit in his face. She wanted to scream. To yell. To run away. But all she managed was a scalding sideways glare and a muttered “Unbelievable.” Her hands formed helpless fists, knuckles whitening as Roberts beckoned her to turn around.

“Hands behind your back,” he ordered, like a cop taking down a perp. “Now.”

Leah hesitated, her jaw set hard enough to crack a molar. She hated how her body shook—not from fear, but from humiliation and revulsion. She slowly put her wrists, arms trembling behind her back, and he snapped the cuffs on with practiced efficiency, then gave them a gratuitous little click to make sure they were tight, pinching the soft skin at the base of her palms. The metal bit into her, and she drew a ragged breath through her nose.

“Misusing your position? Isn’t this, like, the literal definition of it?” she spat, unable to keep her tongue in check. “You don’t even try to hide it, do you?”

He just grinned wider and **** her down with a shove on her shoulder. “You know what? I don’t. Mr. Howard won’t do a fucking thing about this. He can’t. And since you don’t like fucking your fiance—well you probably like this kind of thing so, go on, squirm some more.”

Leah’s cheeks flushed hot with shame, but her glare was pure ice.

SRO Roberts didn’t waste a second. He grabbed a fistful of Leah’s hair, twisting it until her neck snapped back and she was **** to look up at him with a mixture of nausea and loathing. He relished that expression—wide-eyed, ****, defiant, lips pressed hard together as if they could serve as some final barrier against his violation. He held her there, savoring the moment, then pressed her down until her knees her socks bright and ridiculous against the backdrop of the dingy security office.

"Open up," he sneered, his free hand already fumbling at his belt, yanking down his zipper with a practiced flick of his thumb. The clank of his badge and utility belt only heightened the obscenity of the moment; all Leah could see was the hardening bulge jutting toward her face and the smug, wolfish amusement stretched across Roberts’ jaw. He used the barrel of his gun to tap her on the shoulder—just lightly, just a cop’s joke—as if to remind her how helpless she really was.

Leah’s pulse thundered in her ears as her mouth stayed stubbornly shut, jaw locked in one last act of resistance. SRO Roberts rewarded her with another twist of her hair, ripping a gasp from her throat. Then his cock was out, thick and veined and already stiff. He shoved the head hard against her lips. "Quit being a tease, Leah. You know how this works." he growled, and when she finally—sullenly—parted her lips, he spat, "Good little slut."

She nearly gagged right then, but he was merciless. One hand gripped her head, and with slow, deliberate **** he pushed himself inside, teeth scraping her tongue, her jaw straining to open wider than she thought possible. His hand clumsily moved her green head band and it was soon lost on the floor of the room like Leah’s dignity and power. Leah’s wrists throbbed in their cuffs and her back ached already; humiliation rolled off her in bitter little waves, but Roberts drank it in with every slow, implacable thrust.

He shoved himself inside her mouth and stopped, reslishing the feelings of Leah’s mouth on his cock as well as the power he held over her. He then started moving gently—he didn’t want to catch some teeth, just making her taste him, holding her there, watching her nostrils flare and her cheeks hollow as she tried to breathe around the girth. Then he picked up the pace, just slightly, using her face like a sleeve, bobbing her head in inching increments until the head of his cock was battering the back of her throat.

"You love gagging on Mr. Howard’s dick like this?" he rasped, and when Leah blinked furiously, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a dignified answer, he just laughed and jerked her forward again, sending her nose into his musky crotch.

Roberts pulled his cock out of Leah’s mouth and held it menecingly like his service pistol (Oh she would service him alright) in front of her, his manhood aimed at her face. Leah breathed in a deep sigh as her mouth was free.

“So—whose cock tastes the best?” he asked with a sneer “Your little fiance? Mr. Howard? Or mine?”