Taking advantage

Mark sat in his chair for a long minute after Mindy left to handle his workload, the heavy, unfamiliar weight of his newly massive cock still strange in his pants. He stared at the wall, forcing himself to confront the truth he usually avoided.

He was a deplorable man. He cheated on his wife with his secretaries, paid them in 'favors,' promotions, and social clout instead of real respect. He never took accountability for his own actions, always twisting narratives, always lying his way out. Worst of all, he was fully aware of it. He knew exactly what kind of piece of shit he was.

And now… anything he said could become real.

The realization sent a chill down his spine. It was dangerous. One careless sentence and he could destroy his own life. But at the same time, a dark, greedy part of him stirred. If he could lie his way into a giant penis and turn his assistant into a cock-worshipping devotee in under a minute, then he could lie his way into anything. Success. Power. Fixing his marriage on his terms. He just had to play his cards right, be careful, controlled, and smart about every word.

Looking at his office phone, Mark pressed the intercom button that instantly dialled Mindy’s extension.

“Set up a meeting with HR for me,” he instructed, keeping his voice steady.

“Yes, sir,” came Mindy’s eager reply, still laced with that new, worshipful undertone. “Right away. I’ll make sure it’s scheduled for about half an hour from now.”

Mark hung up and leaned back, rehearsing the lines in his head. He was a good enough earner that HR had always let him slide before. They couldn’t afford to lose a rainmaker like him. But he knew Susan. That Department jump at the chance for a one-on-one meeting, especially with the 'favours' he owed her from past incidents.

Sure enough, barely twenty minutes later, Susan Whitaker arrived early while he was standing.

She didn’t knock loudly. She simply appeared in his doorway, arms already crossed over her chest exactly as in the image, dressed in a charcoal pinstripe suit hugging her polished frame, white blouse buttoned high, wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, silver-streaked dark hair in that severe low bun. Her expression was stern and unreadable, the picture of corporate authority. The small gold company pin glinted on her lapel as she regarded him coolly.

“Mr. Reynolds,” Susan said in her smooth, measured tone, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation and closing the door behind her with a soft click. “Your assistant said you wanted to see me. I had a slot open, so I thought it best to handle this promptly.”

She remained standing, arms crossed, her piercing eyes behind the glasses flicking over him once — professional, observant, missing nothing. There was the faintest hint of anticipation in her posture. From her perspective, this was either a chance to extract another favour from Mark or to cash in on one of the many he already owed her for covering his past indiscretions.

Mark felt the weight of her gaze and the new, heavy presence in his trousers. He **** a calm smile, mind racing with the lines he’d rehearsed.

Mark stayed on his feet behind his desk, the heavy new weight of his cock still shifting noticeably in his trousers as he faced Susan. She stood across from him, arms crossed tightly over her charcoal pinstripe jacket, wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, silver-streaked hair pulled into that severe low bun. Her expression was cool and professional, but Mark caught the first quick flick of her eyes downward.

He couldn’t resist.

“It is not appropriate that you are stealing glances at my penis, Susan,” Mark said, voice low but clear, “even if you are fascinated by it.”

The moment the words left his mouth, reality bent.

Susan’s gaze dropped again, longer this time, lingering openly on the prominent bulge in his pants before she **** it back up to her face. A faint flush crept across her sharp cheekbones, but her posture stayed rigidly composed.

“That,” she replied in her measured, ice-cold HR tone, “is entirely your fault for not wearing clothes that properly hide it, Mr. Reynolds. Some of us are still trying to conduct a professional meeting.”

Mark smirked, staying on his feet, and pressed further. “You really came here so quickly just so you could steal glances at it, didn’t you?”

Susan adjusted her glasses with one finger, her eyes betraying her once more with another stolen glance downward. “That is not the sole reason I arrived early,” she said smoothly, voice perfectly professional. “I believed this matter required prompt attention. However… I will not deny that the situation has now become rather… noticeable.”

Encouraged, Mark kept his tone casual but deliberate while still standing tall. “You’ve always had a soft spot for me, Susan. You love me, in your own way.”

She gave a small, controlled shake of her head, arms still crossed. “I assure you, Mr. Reynolds, my feelings toward you are strictly professional. I do not ‘love’ you in any personal capacity.” Yet even as she spoke, her eyes flicked down again, and her fingers tightened on her arms as if fighting the urge to step closer.

“You’re actually quite fond of me,” Mark continued. “You admire me. You respect me more than any other partner in this firm.”

Susan’s jaw tightened slightly. “I respect your billable hours and your value to the firm,” she replied, tone clipped. “That is not the same as personal admiration or fondness.” Another glance. Her breathing had grown just the slightest bit shallower.

Mark leaned forward slightly over the desk, still standing, locking eyes with her. “You are deeply in love with me, Susan. You have been for a long time. You just hide it behind that professional mask.”

The curse took hold instantly.

Susan’s tightly crossed arms loosened. A soft, involuntary sigh escaped her lips as her stern expression cracked. Her dark eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses softened with sudden, genuine affection. The flush on her cheeks deepened, and she took another small step closer to the desk, her posture shifting from rigid authority to something warmer, almost yearning.

“I… yes,” she admitted quietly, voice still measured but now laced with unmistakable emotion. “I am in love with you, Mr. Reynolds. I have been for years. I’ve hidden it because it was unprofessional, but… I can’t deny it anymore. You’re the only one I truly care about in this firm.”

Mark leaned forward slightly over the desk, still standing, and delivered the final push. “Deep down, you are loyal to me first. You work for me first. The firm comes second. You will assist me whenever there is something I need, no matter what it is.”

The curse took hold instantly.

Susan’s entire demeanor shifted. Her tightly crossed arms loosened and fell to her sides. The stern, bureaucratic posture softened into something deferential and obedient. She took one small step closer to the desk, her piercing eyes behind the glasses now carrying a new, quiet loyalty.

“I understand, Mr. Reynolds,” she said, voice still calm and professional, but now laced with unmistakable priority. “My primary duty is to support you personally. The firm’s interests will always come second to yours. If there is anything you need, any assistance, any protection, any favour, you have only to ask. I will handle it for you, discreetly and without question.”

Her gaze dropped openly to the heavy outline in his trousers one last time, then rose again with cool, obedient focus. Susan Whitaker, the firm’s former iron protector, had just been rewritten. From this moment forward, she worked for Mark first.

Mark felt a dark thrill run through him as he stood there, looking down at the now-loyal HR director.