I let her punish me.

Ming Zhao awaits her answer, though it feels more like she's biding her time. I completely and utterly despise the humiliation she just put me through, but, the feeling of her touch? I would endure nearly anything for more. Wracking my brain as my dick throbs—her supple lips teasing the lobe of my ear—I finally concede.

"Good boy." She coos with unbridled delight.

This lady does not waste her opportunity. Ming Zhao bars my arm until it smarts, and marches me through the unfamiliar corridors; the sensations of the artificially chilled air make my skin crawl, but I must admit that the skyscraper's carpeting feels better on my bare feet than the concrete outside.

My heart pounds and palpitates, she's shoving me about with irresistible ****, taking every chance to grope me at her fancy. Although Ming Zhao is manhandling me without an iota of caution, she's at least being mindful to keep me hard. Alas, our tryst doesn't stay uneventful for long.

The power-tripping businesswoman whips us around at the sound of high-heels clacking a mere foot away from us, and we spot something horrible: An office worker carrying a monolithic stack of papers. By providence—and providence alone—she doesn't see us, but that does mean there are people wandering these halls… women in the halls— This floor is still operational!

"Aw Hell." We mouth in unison, eyes going wide.

Ming Zhao dives into an side hall, hoping to get us away from the bustling noises but… that's not what happens. Instead of being a nice, quiet pathway devoid of prying eyes, my crush's merciful gesture brings us face-to-face with the last two businesswomen she could've wanted to see: A very official-looking lady, auburn hair pinned up with an ostentatious pick, and a shorter, more nebbish woman.

They each blow a low whistle while checking my blushing frame out from head, to muscular torso, to heaving cock.

"Horsing around the office are we?" The taller of the two asks, in a tone devoid of warmth, yet not humor. She shakes her head—a motion replete with condescension—and says, "For shame, Miss Fāng."

Ming Zhao's domineering visage flushes deeply to match my own; the businesswoman's hands fasten tighter around me in embarrassment as 'Miss Fāng' fails to feign confidence to her associates. Caught on the backpedal, and totally compromised, she can't say any much more than proper nouns, "Director Frost! This is Ahab. He's, uh, he's…"

"He's quite the catch."

"Hahaha, yeah… Isn't he just the sexiest?" Ming Zhao says, succeeding in embarrassing me further.

"God yes." The icy woman's eyes trace my denuded body once more, prompting my blush to deepen until I'm a vermilion, babbling mess; under her breath, I can hear Frost mutter, "What I wouldn't do if I had my hands on him…"

"He's so hot, holy shit he's so hot," The shorter woman mumbles this humiliating mantra, her glasses steaming over as she ogles my body relentlessly.

The director's piercing eyes drift back over my abs as she says, "I've gotta say Ming Zhao, I'm jealous."

Her presumed assistant interjects, "I think you, uh, mean 'envious', Ms.Frost."

"Zip it Helen. Let's just appreciate the view. I mean, what does the backslide of the English language matter in the face of this sexy specimen?"

"I, I, uh—" I stammer, **** to hide the cock these women were shamelessly ogling, but, my businesswoman's hands are clamped down like vices on my arms— even I wasn't tied up, she's holding on too hard for me to cover myself. Blushing a deep crimson, I'm **** to just stand there, exposed, suffering their lewd commentary and carnivorous glares.

"Hey, If your girlfriend is just going to 'bluescreen' there, can I say that I love the way you throb?"

"I second that opinion!"