Let’s try to test the waters

The break room hummed with conversation as Christina and I joined Katy and Esther by the counter. Christina glanced at me, holding the coffee mug she’d poured, her faint smile suggesting she already knew I wasn’t here for the caffeine.

“John!” Katy greeted me brightly. “Taking a break? That’s a miracle.”

I chuckled, leaning against the counter. “It happens.”

Christina slipped easily into their conversation, her laughter blending with Katy’s bubbly energy. I lingered at the edge, studying the group—Katy’s animated gestures, Christina’s gentle composure, and Esther’s quiet intensity.

Esther’s sharp gaze flicked toward me briefly, her disapproval clear. Still, there was something magnetic about her presence. The precision in her every movement, the way her tailored blouse and skirt seemed to underline her authority. Even her silence carried weight.

I inched closer to Katy, letting my hand rest lightly on her lower back. The touch was subtle, casual. When her posture didn’t shift—no flinch, no discomfort—I let my fingers slide lower, testing. My palm cupped the curve of her backside fully, the heat of her body against my skin.

Katy didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned subtly into the touch, her back arching slightly. My grip tightened, my fingers curling to claim the moment. The surge of power was intoxicating. The rest of the room seemed to blur, their voices fading as my focus narrowed to the quiet, forbidden thrill of her lack of resistance.

“Back from your heroic sabbatical, I see.” Esther’s voice cut sharply through the haze.

I withdrew my hand instantly, heat rushing to my face as I tried to recover. Esther’s tone was light, but for a fleeting second, a flicker of confusion or suspicion crossed her features before it was smoothed over by the ring's influence. She stirred her coffee with deliberate indifference.

Christina stepped in, her tone defensive. “Esther, come on.”

“What?” Esther shrugged, her gaze flicking to me momentarily. “Just an observation. Some of us have been here holding things together.”

“He was recovering, Esther,” Christina said, her hazel eyes flashing. “You know that.”

“Right. Of course.” Esther’s smile was tight, her words pointed. “Just saying—it’s been a while. People notice.”

Her remark lingered in the air, tension simmering beneath her polished exterior. I clenched my jaw, the subtle jab striking deeper than I cared to admit. But Esther seemed to shake off whatever brief moment of clarity she had, her demeanor returning to its usual sharpness.

“Chick, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” I said quickly, hoping to diffuse the moment.

Esther’s expression hardened. “Seriously? Still calling her ‘Chick’? Very progressive of you.”

Christina groaned, exasperated. “Do we need to do this again?”

“Yes, we do,” Esther shot back. “It’s dismissive.”

“It’s not,” Christina said firmly. “It’s a joke—John gave me the nickname years ago. Long story, bad dye job—and it stuck. It’s a private joke, and you know it. We’ve already been over this.”

Esther shook her head, her expression unyielding. “I still don’t like it.”

“Noted,” Christina said coolly, cutting off the argument. Her tone left no room for further debate.

Esther checked her watch, her movements crisp. “I have work to get back to,” she announced, her heels clicking as she strode out.

Even as she left, her lingering gaze seared into me. Beneath her polished disdain, there was something more—a flash of heat, of challenge, quickly subdued by the ring's power.

The tension in the room eased as Katy muttered an excuse and left, leaving Christina and me alone.

“Sorry about her,” Christina said softly. “She’s… protective, I guess.”

“It’s fine,” I replied, though my jaw was still tight. “Thanks for defending me.”

Her faint smile returned, and before I could say more, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. Her warmth was unexpected, reassuring.

But as her petite frame pressed against me, something darker stirred. My hands rested on her back, then slid downward, deliberately cupping her backside. My grip tightened, savoring the forbidden contact.

She didn’t pull away.

Instead, she leaned into me, humming softly. “You’re a good guy, John,” she whispered. “I know you’d never hurt me.”

Her trust struck like a lightning bolt. Guilt churned in my stomach, sharp and inescapable. I released her quickly, stepping back as if burned.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, frowning.

“Nothing,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just… a lot on my mind.”

Her concern deepened, but she let it go. “You’re too hard on yourself,” she said gently, patting my arm before leaving me alone with the bitter weight of guilt.

I sat in my office with the blinds half-drawn, the ambient hum of the air conditioning doing little to soothe the chaos in my mind. Lunch had been a lonely affair—an excuse to isolate myself after the tense confrontation in the breakroom. The events of the morning looped relentlessly in my thoughts.

Esther. That self-righteous thorn in my side. She hadn’t even waited a full day before jumping down my throat, practically daring me to lose my temper. Yet, even with her strong will, the ring's power was too overwhelming for her to fully resist its influence. Her brief moment of clarity was a reminder of my limits and her immunity to direct control.

And then there was Katy. The feeling of her firm body under my hand still lingered, as vivid as if I were touching her now. The way she’d arched her back slightly, unconsciously welcoming my touch, had only confirmed how potent this power was. Nobody had stopped me. Nobody had questioned it. It was exhilarating, but Christina’s face kept flashing in my mind, disrupting the fantasy. Her soft voice. Her whispered words of trust. The way she’d pressed herself against me in that hug. My guilt was sharper than ever, cutting through the haze of lust like a jagged blade. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—use the ring on her. She was different.

Yet even as I vowed to spare her, the rest of my body didn’t seem to care. My arousal was insistent, my thoughts a flurry of images that I couldn’t banish no matter how hard I tried.

My eyes drifted to the document on my desk, its pages swimming in and out of focus. I hadn’t processed a single word in over twenty minutes. My body ached with frustration, my pulse quickened every time my mind wandered back to Katy’s perfectly sculpted form.

And the thought of Esther? The fact that I couldn’t silence her, couldn’t put her in her place—it gnawed at me, a splinter buried too deep to pull out. The ring’s power had become my sharpest tool, and with her, I was left empty-handed.

“FUCK!” The word burst out of me, echoing off the walls of my empty office.

I couldn’t keep sitting here. I had to do something about it. Anything. Rising abruptly, I loosened my tie and stalked toward the door. The decision was made: I’d find Katy. An excuse wouldn’t be hard to come by—a client report, an offer to help with something. The specifics didn’t matter. What mattered was finding her, closing the distance between us.

What mattered was getting my hands on her and finally relieving this unbearable tension.

The hallways seemed unnaturally quiet as I marched toward her cubicle, each step only fueling my anticipation. The thought of her there, so accessible, so ready to submit, was almost enough to push me over the edge before I even reached her desk.

But when I turned the corner, her cubicle was empty. My momentum faltered.

“Mrs. Humphrey?” I asked, spotting Katy’s nearest neighbor—a sweet woman nearing sixty with a perpetually cheerful smile. She looked up from her computer, surprised by my abrupt appearance.

“Oh, John! Looking for Katy?”

“Yeah. Is she on break?”

“She left with Miss Marshall about an hour ago,” Mrs. Humphrey said, tapping her temple thoughtfully. “They were heading to a client presentation—some last-minute request, I believe. You know how marketing is when they need a hand from client services.”

The words hit me like a cold shower. “She’s… gone?”

“For the rest of the day, most likely,” Mrs. Humphrey added. “Client visits can take a while.”

I stood there for a moment, trying to mask the surge of frustration that threatened to break through my composed façade. “Thanks for letting me know,” I muttered finally, turning away before she could catch on to the storm brewing inside me.

As I made my way back to my office, I felt like a kettle about to boil over. Denied. Frustrated. Still aroused and unbearably tense. Esther’s voice echoed in my memory, her self-satisfied smirk mocking me... Untouchable. Always untouchable. The walk back to my office was filled with every step echoing the defeat of not being able to act on my impulses, not because of moral restraint, but because of an accidental circumstance.

I passed by colleagues, nodding automatically, their greetings lost to me. Every smile, every casual wave felt like a mockery of my current state of mind. The ring on my finger seemed to pulse with the power I couldn't use, not on Esther, not in this moment.

Entering my office, I slammed the door with a bit less care than I intended, the sound reverberating through the small space. I leaned against the door, my breath coming in short, frustrated bursts. My eyes moved around the room, taking in the normalcy of it all - the desk cluttered with papers, the computer screen dark, the plant Christina had given me looking somewhat wilted from neglect.

I pushed myself away from the door, my movements stiff as I walked to my desk. The chair creaked under me as I sat down, my hand instinctively going to the ring. I twisted it around my finger, feeling its cool metal, a reminder of the power I wielded - except when it came to Esther.

The frustration was like a physical weight, pressing down on my chest. I needed an outlet, something to channel this energy into before I exploded. My gaze fell on the stack of reports I hadn't touched all day. Work. It was supposed to be my escape, my distraction, but now it felt like another form of ****.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling through emails, but my mind wasn't on work. It was on Katy, her subtle compliance, and the way she'd welcomed my touch. And Christina, with her genuine warmth, her trust in me that I felt I was betraying more with each passing moment.

I shook my head, trying to clear the images, the sensations. I opened an email, but the words blurred together. My thoughts were too loud, too insistent.

With a sudden decision, I pushed back from my desk, standing abruptly. Maybe I couldn't act on my desires with Esther or Katy, but there were others. There had to be someone else in this building wearing a ring, someone I could manipulate to ease this tension.

I paced the small confines of my office, my shoes thudding against the carpet. My mind raced through the faces I'd seen today, colleagues, clients, the receptionist with her multiple rings.

But as I considered each person, the thought of using the ring again filled me with a strange, uncharacteristic hesitation. The thrill was there, the power intoxicating, yet the memory of Christina's trusting embrace and Katy's unthinking compliance weighed on me. Was this really what I wanted? To turn every interaction into a plaything for my desires?

I stopped pacing, my gaze dropping to the ring. It wasn't just about control anymore; it was about the cost, the erosion of something I once valued. I sighed, the sound heavy with resignation.

I sat back down, the chair squeaking under my weight. I **** myself to focus on the reports, each page a dull distraction from the storm inside me. But the work was meaningless, my thoughts still a tangled mess of lust, power, and guilt.

The clock ticked away the hours, each second a reminder of my restraint, of the kettle simmering within me. I knew I was a different man now, one who had tasted the forbidden fruit of control, but also one who was aware of the price of such indulgence.

I leaned back, closing my eyes, trying to find some peace in the chaos. But peace was elusive, replaced by a growing resolve. I wasn't done with this power, not by a long shot. Today, I would simmer, but tomorrow, or perhaps the next moment someone caught my eye, I would let the steam out.

The day dragged on, each minute a battle against my own impulses. I managed to get through some work, but my mind was elsewhere, plotting, planning, waiting for the release that was inevitably coming.

As the end of the workday approached, I gathered my things, my movements mechanical. The office was emptying out, and I knew I'd have to face another night alone with my thoughts.

But tonight, I'd be plotting not just how to use the ring, but how to live with the consequences of my actions, how to navigate this new life where I was both the master of others and increasingly a **** to my own desires.

I left the office with the same frustration I'd entered with, but now, it was laced with a dangerous patience, a kettle on the brink of boiling over, waiting for the right moment to unleash its steam.