Take advantage of course

Mark’s mind raced. The Henderson deposition was a joke; his client wanted a witness to back up evidence that only held together on a technicality. Mark knew it would ultimately damage their side more than it helped. Normally, he’d be deep in strategy, but right now his world had collapsed to three and a half feet tall, and his senior partner stood over him like a goddess. The memo could wait. Everything could wait.

She’s owed me for years. Forty-five favours she’s openly acknowledged. Another ninety-eight she’s quietly let slide. I’ve buried my tongue in that woman more times than I can count at Christmas parties and late-night ‘strategy sessions.’ Time to collect.

He looked straight up at the imposing silver-haired giantess, kept his voice steady and earnest, and spoke the words that would reshape reality.

“You know, after all the times you’ve had my tongue buried in your cunt over the years, I’d have thought you’d come here to have some fun.”

The tingle hit instantly.

Gracelyn Croston blinked once, slowly. The sharp, ice-blue eyes that had made junior associates tremble softened with sudden, undeniable clarity. She let out a low, throaty laugh that still carried every ounce of her authority, then gracefully lowered herself to one knee in front of him. Even kneeling, she loomed over his tiny frame, her long legs folded elegantly, the hem of her pencil skirt riding up just enough to remind him exactly where his tongue had been over the years.

“You’re right, Mark,” she said, voice velvety and matter-of-fact, as if she were simply stating the obvious in a boardroom. “That was the real reason I came in here. The Henderson deposition can wait. It’s a technicality at best and a liability at worst—your client’s certainty doesn’t change the fact that it would harm our position more than help. I’m not here for memos.”

She reached down with one elegant hand and gently but firmly cupped the front of his miniature trousers, feeling the tiny, adorable package beneath the fabric. Her touch was possessive, almost reverent.

“I think I would much rather have that little dick of yours inside me right now,” she stated plainly, as if she were ordering lunch. “The deposition can wait, Mark. I need you to attend to me. Properly.”

Her thumb stroked slowly over the small bulge, eyes gleaming with the same ruthless hunger she usually reserved for destroying opposing counsel. From his shrunken perspective, she looked even more magnificent. Her broad shoulders and powerful legs, that silver bob framing a striking face now flushed with open desire, all contributed to her overwhelming presence.

Gracelyn leaned in closer, her sophisticated scent washing over him, voice dropping to a commanding whisper that still somehow sounded like an order from on high.

“So be a good boy and take care of your senior partner the way you always have… only this time I want every inch of that cute little cock buried where it belongs. The firm can survive without us for an hour. I, however, cannot.”

She stayed there on one knee, towering over him, hand still resting possessively between his legs, waiting for his next words with the same expectant intensity she brought to every negotiation.

Mark’s heart hammered in his tiny chest. He had just turned the Dragon into his willing accomplice. Now he had to decide exactly how he wanted to play the next move because every single word that left his mouth was about to become law.