Maria’s First Day

POV: Maria

She had a new name now.

Maria. Not Dr. Marisol Calderon. Not Associate Professor. Not tenure-track. Just Maria. Blonder, brighter, lips plumped and glossed, her blouse tailored to hug declarations she no longer needed to say.

She arrived at 07:42. Early enough to perfect everything. She repeated a tiny three‑step prayer inside her head—be early, be pretty, be useful—and felt lighter just for thinking it. Make Papi say Good.

Morning

The office was ready before he stepped inside. Blinds at half. Light warm. Coffee exactly two and a shy half scoops. Pens straight. Keyboard clean. Pads aligned. Mug on the right coaster. She touched each item once and whispered in her head, Papi likes this… Papi likes tidy… Papi likes quiet.

Garrett entered at 08:01. She was already kneeling beside the chair. Not submissive. Available.

“Report.”

“Printer queue cleared. Files sorted. Office hour entries finalized—seven scheduled, two for walk-ins. Draft review at eleven. Lexi’s report at four.”

“Coffee?”

“Hot and brown—just like me,” she said with a sweet smile meant only for him.

He sipped. “Good.”

The word fizzed through her like a secret. She kept her face neat, but her thoughts clapped their hands: Good girl. Papi said Good. A tiny giggle wanted to escape; she swallowed it and folded her hands. Don’t talk. Be useful. Shine when he looks, vanish when he works.

Midmorning

She didn’t sit at the desk. She stayed beneath it. Quiet, still, present. The carpet smelled like paper and cedar. His voice above—calm, focused. She tuned out the students. They asked about reinforcement, citations. She wanted none of that. She wanted the simple thing: make Papi’s day smooth.

A sound slipped—just a breath, nothing more. A student paused. “Did you hear that?”

“Nothing of importance,” Garrett said smoothly, eyes on the page. One hand moved under the desk—firm, steady—and Maria obeyed the unspoken instruction: breathe soft, think soft, be soft. Her world narrowed to his rhythm. Thoughts melted.

Midday

At lunch she fetched his food, perfectly timed. A group of undergrads in the hallway giggled. One whispered, “Is that her?”

Maria smiled and tilted her head. Let them laugh. Papi picked me. The idea made her lightheaded with pride. I belong right where he wants me.

She returned to the office, set the food out, aligned the napkin to the plate’s edge, water to the right. While he read, she knelt by his chair and polished his shoes with the folded microfiber, heel to toe, slow and careful, until the leather caught the light. She placed her old faculty lanyard on the desk, stared at the name Dr. Marisol Calderon, then fed it into the shredder. It made a neat sound and a neat pile. Be early. Be pretty. Be useful, she recited silently, smiling.

Afternoon

Lexi’s silhouette had slipped past the frosted glass a few minutes earlier—she’d paused just long enough to leave a smile behind. Maria, lost in a daydream about sexy Miss Lexi, barely noticed the time until her phone buzzed with the preset prompt.

Lexi entered without a word, the room adjusting to her like it knew how. Maria rose automatically, hands folded, chin down.

“Kneel,” Lexi said, not unkind, not soft. Maria folded at once. “Hands behind.” She obeyed. “Look at me.” Maria looked—wide‑eyed, eager, steady.

Lexi stepped closer, a shadow crossing Maria’s view, and without warning tilted her chin up, opening her mouth with a fingertip. “You look dehydrated". A slow, deliberate drop of spit met Maria’s tongue.

“Thank you, Señorita Lexi,” Maria whispered instantly, voice low and almost reverent, visibly pleased to be treated that way.

A small tap to the cheek—permission. Maria leaned in and placed a quick, neat kiss where indicated. Lexi’s mouth didn’t curve, but her eyes did.

“Good,” Lexi said. The word felt like a chosen weight, settling Maria exactly where she belonged.

“What are your rules?” Lexi asked.

Maria’s voice came in a breathy rush. “Be early. Be pretty. Be useful. Make Papi say Good.”

“Add: be quiet unless asked,” Lexi said. “Look at you—fresh paint, bright smile, finally useful. The old professor talked too much. This version knows where she belongs. Better posture, better polish, less trouble.”

Maria’s eyes lifted, shining. “Thank you, Señorita Lexi.”

Lexi smoothed an imaginary crease at Maria’s hairline. “Good girl.”

Lexi turned to Garrett. “The office runs. Have fun, Dad—Dr. Blowbunny is very eager to please.”

“It runs,” he agreed, eyes on the afternoon list. His hand rested on Maria’s crown for a single heartbeat—acknowledgment, alignment, dismissal all in one. Maria glowed.

Almost Closing Time

She looked up at him, wide-eyed and eager, her glossy lips parted in anticipation.

“Papi… is there anything else your bimbo can do for you?”

Garrett didn’t even blink. “On your knees, now.”

She dropped instantly, like a good little toy, her fake lashes fluttering as her manicured hands went to his belt. Within seconds, his cock was out—thick, hard, and already leaking.

“Show me what you're good for,” he said, grabbing her platinum-blonde hair and guiding her down.

Maria moaned as she took him in, deep and messy. Her lips stretched wide, her throat flexing around his length as she gagged obediently, eyes rolling back. She was trained for this—his office toy, his personal stress relief, his brainwashed, cock-hungry assistant.

“Good girl,” Garrett groaned. “You were made for this, weren’t you? Just a stupid little bimbo to suck cock and smile.”

She whimpered in agreement, drool running down her chin as she bobbed up and down, worshiping him with her mouth. But he wanted more. He always did.

He pulled her off with a wet pop, strands of spit connecting her lips to his cock. Her eyes sparkled, mascara slightly smudged, nipples visibly hard under her tight blouse.

Garrett didn’t ask. He ripped her top open, buttons flying, and unclasped her bra in one motion. Her big fake tits bounced free, perfect for what came next.

“Let me fuck those tits, slut.”

“Yes, Papi,” she breathed, positioning herself eagerly.

He spat on his cock, slid it between her soft mounds, and started thrusting. Her tits enveloped him perfectly—warm, soft, submissive. She looked up at him, biting her lip like the office whore she was.

“You look so fucking dumb like this,” he growled. “Dumb and perfect.”

She moaned, her voice high and needy. He reached down, slapped her cheek lightly. “Keep those tits tight. That’s the only reason you’re on payroll.”

She giggled like the airheaded bimbo he’d made her, thrilled to be used.

But Garrett wasn’t done.

He pushed her onto the desk, flipped her skirt up, and yanked her thong down. It was soaked, of course.

“You’re leaking, slut. Did sucking cock get you this wet?”

Maria just nodded, face flushed, ass in the air.

He didn’t wait. One rough thrust and he was buried inside her. Her pussy clamped down like it didn’t want to let go.

“Oh fuck, Papi! I’m your little office fucktoy!”

“Damn right you are.”

He rammed into her, again and again, until the sound of skin on skin echoed through the office. One hand gripped her hip, the other played with her clit like he owned it—which he did.

“You gonna cum, bimbo?”

“Uh-huh! Papi, I’m—oh fuck—I’m coming! I’m coming!!”

She screamed as she came around his cock, her whole body trembling. But Garrett kept going. He flipped her onto her back, threw her legs over his shoulders, and pounded her harder.

Maria’s brain was mush. All she could say was his name. All she wanted was him.

With a final grunt, Garrett exploded inside her, flooding her pussy with his cum.

He pulled out slowly, watching it drip from her swollen folds.

Then he grabbed her by the hair again and brought her to her knees.

“Clean me up, toy.”

Maria obeyed immediately, licking him clean like the obedient slut she was. She even moaned while doing it, proud to be his perfect little office bimbo.

When she finished, he cupped her chin, forcing her to look up.

“That’s how a good secretary ends her day. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll let you use your hole in the back.”

Maria beamed. “Thank you, Papi.”

Night

She returned to the house—Marisol’s old House.Papi had taken that away because she’d been a total bitch.Hehe. Probably deserved it.

Maria she stayed in one of the side rooms.Simple. Clean. Earned.

The other rooms?One was for the housemaid.One was empty.One had a locked door.Maria didn’t ask. Asking wasn’t useful.

She lit her bedside lamp, laid out tomorrow’s clothes, and pressed play.Garrett’s voice filled her headphones.Steady. Calm. Absolute.

She lay back—one hand already in her wet Pussy,A warm, dizzy feeling bloomed in her belly.

Then came the image.Garrett’s hand. His voice.His babymaker—thick, heavy, perfect.

Her thighs pressed together.

He hadn’t used it on her this week.Not inside.Not for real.

But maybe soon.If she was good.If she was better.

She pictured it like a reward.His seed. Deep. Claimed.Her tummy round, his legacy growing inside—his approval made flesh.

A breathless giggle bubbled up.

She made her list again. Slower this time.Each line like candy melting on her tongue:

— Be early.— Be pretty.— Be useful.— Make Papi say Good.— Be chosen.— Be filled.

The thought of morning warmed her again:The blinds. The light. His chair. Her place beside it.

Simple. Bright. Enough.

Tomorrow I’ll earn more, she thought.Maybe… maybe he’ll knock me up.

She pulled the blanket up to her chin, a soft ache pulsing between her legs, and let herself smile.

Maybe tomorrow, she whispered.

And fell asleep smiling.