my new company

Rafaela was at the company where she had gotten a job. The office air conditioner hummed like a swarm of angry bees, but Rafaela didn't feel cold. Her fingers drummed on the desk as she watched the new intern—Lucas, 22 years old, smelling of fear and Axe chocolate. He didn't even notice when she took the pen out of her pocket.

The sound of the tip sliding across the fabric was muffled by the noise of the keyboards. Rafaela wrote his name on his arm.

Lucas shuddered as if he'd been electrocuted. When he looked at Rafaela, his pupils were already dilated and his breathing rapid. Without saying a word, he followed her when she gestured with her index finger.

The disabled bathroom downstairs was empty. Rafaela locked the door with an audible click and sat on the sink, her thighs pressed against the cold marble.

"Take them off," she ordered, pointing to his pants.

Lucas obeyed with trembling fingers. His boxer shorts had superhero prints on them—pathetic. Rafaela laughed as his penis sprang out, already swollen and wet at the tip.

"Funny," she murmured. The ink burned like fire. "Looks like you already knew whose it would be."

When her lips closed around him, Lucas groaned like a wounded animal. His hands gripped the sink as Rafaela sucked with calculated ****, her teeth grazing the throbbing vein. It took less than three minutes.

Semen dripped down her chin when they heard knocking at the door.

"Is anyone there? Do you need help?" The voice was Mrs. Almeida's, the HR manager.

Rafaela wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at Lucas, who was trembling like a leaf.

"Answer me," she whispered, caressing his scrotum with the pen.

"I-it's okay!" He stammered, his voice choked. "Just... washing my hands!"

Rafaela smiled and tugged at his hair, forcing him to look down as she shoved her cock into his ass.

"Good boy," she murmured. "Now let's go. We have an obedience training session for you to watch." She slid off the sink and adjusted her skirt. "On your knees."

The pen rolled to the floor. Lucas swallowed hard.

In the hallway, Mrs. Almeida was still waiting when the door opened. Rafaela stepped out first, her high heels echoing on the laminate floor. Lucas followed three steps behind, his zipper still open, the mark on his thigh throbbing red.

"Any problem, Denise?" Rafaela asked, stopping abruptly.

The manager looked at Lucas, then at Rafaela's still-swollen mouth. Her eyes narrowed for a second—and widened when she saw the pen in Rafaela's hand.

"No," Denise Almeida said quickly, taking a step back. "No problem." Rafaela smiled. She could feel the woman's fear—bitter as reheated coffee. Her pen gleamed under the fluorescent light.

The next signature was already planned.