DISCLAIMER: This short story contains depictions of non-consensual sexual violence for the purposes of sexual fantasy. The author does not recommend you try any activity described herein. Heck, the author hasn't even tried any activity described herein. And no, that's not an opening, please don't send me PMs. Please. ---- I walk into Mr. Spader's office after-hours, when we were all alone, and he looked up from his Macbook. "Can I help you, Maggie?" I smile at him. "Did you notice what day it is?" He frowns, checks his calendar, goes pale. "Oh. Maggie, I am *so* sorry-" I smile wider and lean over the desk. "That's okay. I made my own arrangements." Then I slam the lid shut, shove it off the desk, and kiss him. His mouth tastes like coffee, like mint. I think he had...pastrami for lunch? When let go of him, he slumps back in his chair, tries to straighten his tie. "Maggie-I'm...I'm *married!*" I roll my eyes. "I *know*. I helped plan the wedding, remember? All those calls, all those deliveries, all that extra work-" "Is this about jealousy? Because I'm pretty sure Miguel wouldn't like to share." He thinks for a second. "Okay, I never asked him, but-" I lean over again, grab the tie out of his hands, and stuff the end into my mouth. Swallow it. Keep swallowing, pulling myself closer to him, until I'm right at his neck. He just watches me, like watching a snake swallow a mouse. I smile around the tie. When I was little, I used to pull ties down from the rack and chew on them. I haven't done that in, what, twenty-five years? This tie was silk. But not anymore. I plant my hands on his chest and push off. The tie end closest to him is thin, of course, but he gradually realizes it's not getting wider. And it's a darker blue than it used to be. Looks shiny, like- The leather leash stretches across the table, and the loop hangs off my tongue. I wiggle it a little, and Spader stares at me with his jaw swingin' free. I let it roll off my tongue, into my hand. Then I pull Spader across the table. I don't mean I tugged on the leash and he came like a good little doggie. I mean I *hauled* him across his fancy glass desk with main strength. Whatever that is. I give him a second, then I haul him up by the shirt, rip it open - gah, he has *really* nice pecs - then I turned him around and tossed him back on the table, facedown. "Maggie, you have to st-" "*Shut up.*" He shuts up. I plant my hand on his back - good lats too - lean over him, and toss the end of the leash so it loops under the desk. I stamp on it with my right foot, then stand up and pull his pants down. He tries to get up. I could pull on the leash. But it's much more satisfying to grab the back of his neck and slam him back down. I keep pressure on his neck and lean forward, whisper in his ear. "*I don't recall giving you permission to stand.*" He doesn't say anything, just trembles. I use my other hand to squeeze his jaw, to trace the curve of his neck. "*Good boy.*" I stand up, pat him on the lats. Normally, when I pass something from my toes to my foot, it strains a muscle, but it's easy. I take the end of the loop and draw it over his penis, then cinch it tight, then give him a squeeze. *Nice* glutes. "Now, if you try to stand up, the leash will squeeze your di - hey. Cut that out. I will pull it off myself if you *don't let go of that leash right now*!" He let go. Good boy. Now, what's on the desk? Phone, papers, letter opener, stapler...ah. There's an idea. I grabbed the stapler off the desk, and Spader looked over his shoulder. "Did I tell you to look up?" He put his head down. "Good boy." I break the stapler in half, and deepthroat the top. It tastes like cheap metal, feels like long boxes. I smooth it down, and it comes out in a triangular-ish shape, with curvy corners. "Hey, boss. Don't clench." "Wha-" And then I stick it in. He tries to sit up, and that tightens the leash around his dick, and he goes right back down, making funny little noises. I deep-throat the lower-half, and it comes out a lot longer than it used to be. Like a ruler, in fact. That's when I pulled the toy out of his rear. "You don't like this?" "I-" "Oh, come on! You've never been on bottom?" In. "Never bit a pillow?" Out. "Never got pinned against the wall by a big, strong bear?" In. "Or a girl with a strap-on?" Out. "Never-" In. "-gave up-" Out. "-control?" "That's *different!*" I let go, and he slumps across the desk, breathing heavy. That's when I bring the ruler across his rear, *smack!* "Liar." He jumps, looks over his shoulder. "Maggie, I-" "*What-*" *Smack!* He jiggles larger. "-did I *tell you*-" *Smack!* And larger. "-about-looking-*up*!" Aw, I made the poor baby cry. Maybe I went a little too far. "Maybe I went a little too far. Here, let me make it up to you." I smack the ruler flat on the desk, and he jumps. Snot runs down his face. Not so pretty now, are ya? Then I kneel, and run my tongue up the massive curve of his booty. It's a booty now. I mean, it was nice before, but now...unf. Also, I eat his balls. Well, not *eat*-ear. I just kinda put them in my mouth. Lick them all over. Cover them. He doesn't taste any worse than anything else I've put in there, though I swear the short hairs get caught in my teeth. And him-he doesn't know whether to fish or cut bait. Some men can come just from this kind of stimulation. He's not one of them, but I don't want him to be. Now, if you've been following along, you know what my mouth does to things. His balls came out black and shiny and slick, with a hexagon pattern on them. Objects. Mine. "Good news, boss! I'm going to let you go." "That's very generous of you." You know that trick back in school where you pull back a metal ruler and let it smack into someone? That's what I did. To his dick. "Hey. No backchat." I walk around the desk, and grab his scissors out of the drawer. "What...what are you going to do with those?" I looked up at him. I'm going to cut something. Duh. "What are you going to cut?" "The leash. O-ohhh. You thought I was going to cut off your dick. Of course not! I'm not cruel." He relaxed. "Good." I walk back to his backside, reach under him, watch him wince, then snip the leash. He froze for a second, then pushed himself up- I said "now." And then he came. All over the floor, and the underside of the table. I ignored his chest swelling, the way his lips went thick, how his butt became a booty, squishing the toy between two cheeks. When he was done, he lay on the desk, panting. Thick booty, huge breasts, man's face, man's hairy legs, extra-large dick. He looked ridiculous. Just the way I liked 'em, *"Maggie."* I pulled the belt off his pants. It tasted like leather going down, and leather coming up. I climbed onto the desk - normally glass wouldn't hold this much weight, but that wasn't a concern - straddled him, wrapped my leather straps around his face, his mouth, then I pulled back on the reins. I hissed "Hear that?" The elevator dinged. *"Maggie."* "That's your husband." His body was hot between my thighs. "Won't *he* be surprised to see you like this?" His eyes roll around in his head. "Nuuh..." "Maybe he won't even recognize you." I let him *"Maggie."* go. "But I always did like a good matched s ---- "Maggie?" Oh, right, someone's talking to me. It's him. Spader. The real, taken, and unfortunately cisgendered one. "You...you looked lost in thought there." "Oh. Well, I went to one of those VR rooms on my lunch break." Technically true. "Spent it zipping around the Greek Islands in a sports car." Technically false. "I never liked those. Pulling fantasies straight out of your head? What if something goes wrong?" "They're very safe, sir. Is there something I can help you with?" He blinks, then fake-smiles at me. "Oh, right." He puts a mug on my desk. "Happy Administrative Professionals Day." The mug says "World's #2 Secretary". It also has some lollipops, all in a neat little wrapper. Probably got it from Wal-Mart. I look up at him. "Thanks you, sir." My fake smile is much better than his. #"Secretary's Day" 2017 Nequ CC-SA-NC Fan stories welcome.