Fuck yeah

You nod, your movements stiff, robotic. Your fingers fumble with the silk tie, a knot you barely know how to tie, let alone undo. It takes you a moment, but it finally comes loose. You lay it over the back of the chair.

Next, the jacket, cool and heavy. You fold it as best you can. Then the shirt, your fingers fumbling with the tiny, plastic buttons. You feel her eyes on you, a physical weight, appraising every inch of your exposed skin. You're pale, soft from too many hours in a chair. You're not built like the guys in the videos.

You kick off the shoes, then unbutton your trousers. They pool around your ankles. You step out of them, folding them too. You stand there in your briefs, the cheap cotton suddenly feeling rough and inadequate. Your cock is a hard, undeniable line against the fabric.

"And the rest," she commands softly.

You hook your thumbs into the waistband and slide them down. Your cock springs free, jutting out, proud and desperate. You're completely exposed, a virgin gooner in a tailored suit pile on the floor, in front of a superstar.

A slow smile spreads across Sabrina's face. "Very nice," she purrs, her gaze lingering on your erection. "You followed instructions perfectly. You're a very good boy." She walks towards you, her hips swaying with a predatory grace. She stops just inches away, so close you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. She reaches out, but not to touch you. She trails a single, perfectly manicured finger down your chest, her nail a cool, sharp line against your flushed skin.

"Now for your final test," she whispers, her breath warm against your ear. She eluded star power as you felt compelled to do the little minx bidding.

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