Working for Kai had been my obsession disguised as a dream job. The office was a sleek, glass-walled prison of corporate ambition in downtown Seattle, where rain-slicked windows framed the gray skyline like a perpetual mood board for melancholy. I was the outlier—the girl with the oversized glasses perched on my nose, my hair perpetually tied back in a no-nonsense bun, and my wardrobe a parade of sensible blouses and knee-length skirts that screamed "unapproachable nerd." Whispers followed me in the break room: "She's probably still a virgin," or "Who'd want to fuck that?" But I didn't care. Kai saw me. Or at least, I convinced myself he did.
Kai Nakamura was the epitome of power wrapped in tailored suits—tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp Japanese features softened by a perpetual five-o'clock shadow that made my knees weak. His dark eyes held secrets, and his voice, low and commanding, could make quarterly reports sound like foreplay. As his assistant, I spent hours in his corner office, poring over spreadsheets and projections, our fingers occasionally brushing as we passed documents. Each touch sent sparks through me, a slow-building heat that pooled low in my belly. I'd fantasize about him pinning me against the mahogany desk, his hands exploring the curves I hid so well under my frumpy attire.
That afternoon, the office hummed with the usual post-lunch lethargy. Rain pattered against the windows, a rhythmic backdrop that mirrored the throb of anticipation in my veins. Kai had called me in for a private review of the latest financials. I entered his office, clutching a stack of reports, my heart hammering. The air smelled of his cologne—sandalwood and citrus, sharp and intoxicating, mingling with the faint leather scent of his executive chair.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. His voice was velvet, wrapping around me like a caress. I obeyed, crossing my legs demurely, feeling the fabric of my skirt ride up just a fraction. His eyes flicked down, then back up, lingering on my lips for a beat too long. Or was that my imagination?
We dove into the numbers—revenues up 12%, expenses creeping— but my mind wandered. The way his fingers gripped the pen, strong and precise, made me wonder how they'd feel gripping my hips. The room felt warmer, the air thicker, as if the tension between us was condensing into something tangible.
Then, he leaned back, his chair creaking softly, and fixed me with that intense gaze. "I need you to give me el chiquito," he said, his tone casual, as if asking for a coffee refill.
My brain short-circuited. El chiquito—the little one. In Spanish slang, it could mean... my asshole? Heat flooded my face, but lower, a different kind of heat ignited. We hadn't even kissed, hadn't shared so much as a lingering hug after late nights, and here he was, demanding something so intimate, so forbidden. My pulse raced, a mix of shock and arousal surging through me. Was this it? The moment I'd been waiting for, the crack in his professional facade revealing the desire I prayed was there?
I stammered something incoherent, excusing myself to the restroom. My hands trembled as I locked the door behind me. Nobody else was around; the floor was quiet. Staring at my reflection—pale skin, wide eyes behind glasses—I made a decision. If Kai wanted el chiquito, he'd get it. No questions. I'd prove I wasn't the unfuckable nerd they all thought.
I stripped off my blouse, revealing the lacy black bra I'd worn just in case, my full breasts straining against the fabric, nipples already pebbling from the cool air and my racing thoughts. My skirt followed, pooling at my feet, exposing matching panties that hugged my curves. I had a body made for sin—soft, rounded hips, a trim waist, and thighs that could crush a man's resolve. But I hid it, always. Not today.
In my purse, I had a secret: a small, jeweled buttplug, bought on a whim during a lonely night of online shopping. I'd never used it, but fantasies of Kai had fueled its purchase. I slicked it with lube from a travel-sized bottle—cool and slippery against my skin— and bent over the sink, spreading my cheeks. My breath hitched as I pressed it against my tight, puckered hole. The initial resistance gave way to a burning stretch, delicious and invasive, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to my clit. I bit my lip to stifle a moan, pushing it deeper until it seated with a soft pop, the base nestled between my ass cheeks. Fullness throbbed inside me, every movement a reminder of what was coming. My pussy ached, slick with arousal, soaking through my panties.
I redressed quickly, but left the top buttons of my blouse undone, a hint of cleavage peeking out. Glasses back on, hair loosened just a touch. Ready.
Back in his office, I closed the door with a click that echoed like a promise. Kai looked up from his computer, eyebrows raised. "Everything alright?"
I approached his desk, hips swaying more than usual, the plug shifting inside me with each step, building that slow-burning fire. "You wanted el chiquito," I said, my voice husky, laced with invitation. I turned slightly, lifting my skirt just enough to tease, feeling bold, exposed.
His eyes widened, confusion flickering before darkening with realization. "The document," he clarified, voice roughening. "The little report—the one on the quarterly projections. El chiquito means 'the small one' in this context."
Mortification hit like ice water, but it evaporated under the heat of his gaze. He'd seen the flush on my cheeks, the way my breath came in shallow pants, the subtle squirm as the plug teased me from within. Too late to back down. The air crackled with unspoken desire, the rain outside intensifying, drumming harder.
Kai stood slowly, towering over me, his presence overwhelming. "But now that I see you like this..." His hand reached out, tracing the edge of my blouse, fingers brushing the swell of my breast. Electricity shot through me. "What exactly did you think I meant?"
I swallowed, my mouth dry, pussy clenching around nothing. "I thought... you wanted my ass."
A low growl escaped him. He stepped closer, his body heat enveloping me, the bulge in his pants evident, pressing against my thigh. "And you prepared for that? Show me."
Emboldened, I turned, bending slightly over the desk, hiking up my skirt. The cool air kissed my skin as I revealed the plug, its jewel glinting under the office lights. His sharp intake of breath was music to my ears.
"Fuck," he muttered, his hand cupping one ass cheek, squeezing firmly. The pressure jostled the plug, sending waves of sensation rippling through me. I moaned softly, pushing back against him.
His other hand slid up my thigh, fingers rough against smooth skin, tearing the delicate fabric of my panties aside. "So wet already," he observed, two fingers dipping into my slick folds, circling my clit with agonizing slowness. I gasped, gripping the desk edge, knuckles white. The sensory overload—the fullness in my ass, his teasing touch, the scent of my arousal mixing with his cologne—built the tension coil-tight.
He twisted the plug gently, pulling it out halfway before pushing it back in, fucking me with it slowly. Each thrust stretched me, the burn morphing into ecstasy. "You came in here ready to give me your tight little hole," he whispered, breath hot against my ear. "Misunderstanding or not, I'm taking it."
With a swift motion, he bent me fully over the desk, papers scattering like confetti. My breasts pressed against the cool wood, nipples hardening further. He yanked my panties down, exposing me completely, then freed his cock—thick, veined, throbbing with need. The head nudged my entrance first, slicking itself in my juices, teasing my pussy lips apart.
But he didn't enter there. No, he pulled the plug out with a wet pop, leaving me empty and aching. Lube from his drawer—did he keep it there for moments like this?—coated his fingers as he prepped me, one digit sliding into my ass, then two, scissoring, stretching. I whimpered, the intrusion intense, every nerve alight.
"Please," I begged, voice breaking.
He positioned himself, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my hole. "This what you want?" he growled, pushing in inch by slow inch. The stretch was exquisite agony—burning, filling, claiming. I felt every ridge, every pulse as he buried himself deep, his balls slapping against my wet pussy.
He paused, letting me adjust, his hands gripping my thighs hard enough to bruise, tearing the stockings I'd forgotten about. The rip of fabric echoed, heightening the rawness. Then he moved—slow at first, a deliberate drag out, then thrust back in, building rhythm. Each stroke hit deeper, the friction igniting fireworks behind my eyes. My clit throbbed, neglected, until his hand snaked around, fingers pinching and rubbing in time with his hips.
The office filled with sounds—wet slaps of skin, my moans growing louder, his grunts of pleasure. Sweat beaded on my skin, the rain outside a symphony to our fucking. Tension coiled tighter, erotic heat consuming me. He pounded harder, tearing into me, owning every inch. "Come for me," he commanded, fingers relentless on my clit.
I shattered, orgasm crashing over me in waves, ass clenching around his cock, milking him. He followed with a roar, hot spurts filling me, marking me as his.
We collapsed, breathless, the misunderstanding forgotten in the afterglow. I'd never been happier to be wrong.
---
The rain continued its relentless tattoo against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Kai's office, a natural veil that blurred the outside world and cocooned us in this illicit bubble. I stood there, moments after my bold reveal, my skirt hiked up indecently, the jeweled base of the buttplug winking at him like a forbidden invitation. The air was thick with the musky scent of my arousal, already dampening my thighs, and the sharp tang of his cologne seemed to intensify, wrapping around me like invisible restraints.
Kai's dark eyes, usually so composed and calculating during board meetings, now burned with a primal hunger that made my core clench involuntarily. He rose from his chair with predatory grace, the expensive leather creaking under his weight, and closed the distance between us in two strides. At 6'2", he towered over my 5'5" frame, his broad chest nearly brushing my heaving breasts. I could feel the heat radiating from his body, seeping through his crisp white shirt, which clung slightly to his toned physique from the subtle humidity in the room.
His hand—large, veined, with fingers that had signed multimillion-dollar deals—reached out and traced the curve of my ass cheek, exposed and trembling. The touch was feather-light at first, a tease that sent shivers racing up my spine, but then he squeezed, hard, his grip possessive. The pressure jostled the plug inside me, the silicone shaft shifting against sensitive walls, eliciting a gasp that escaped my lips before I could stifle it. It was a deep, internal throb, a constant reminder of my readiness, my willingness to surrender.
"You really thought that's what I meant?" His voice was a low rumble, laced with amusement and something darker, more urgent. His breath fanned across my neck as he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of my ear. Goosebumps erupted across my skin, and my nipples tightened painfully against the lace of my bra, visible now through the half-unbuttoned blouse I'd left teasingly open.
I nodded, biting my lower lip, tasting the faint salt of nervousness. "Yes, sir. I... I prepared for you." The words came out breathy, needy, and I felt a fresh gush of wetness between my legs, soaking the thin fabric of my panties.
"Show me properly," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. With shaking hands, I bent forward slightly, bracing against the edge of his desk. The cool, polished wood grounded me as I lifted my skirt higher, fully exposing myself. The air conditioning whispered across my bare skin, contrasting with the warmth building in my core. Kai's sharp inhale was audible, and I glanced over my shoulder to see his pupils dilated, fixated on the sight.
"Fucking perfect," he murmured, his fingers now tracing the base of the plug. He twisted it slowly, experimentally, and I moaned, the rotation sending sparks of pleasure-pain radiating outward. The stretch was delicious, a burn that bordered on ecstasy, making my pussy ache with emptiness. He pulled it out a fraction, the suction wet and obscene, before pushing it back in, fucking me with it in languid strokes. Each movement built the tension, a slow burn that had me grinding back against his hand, desperate for more.
His free hand slid up my inner thigh, nails scraping lightly, leaving faint red trails on my pale skin. Higher, until his fingers brushed the soaked crotch of my panties. "Drenched," he observed, voice husky. He pressed a finger against my clit through the fabric, circling with maddening slowness. The friction was torturous, not enough to satisfy, just enough to heighten the ache. I whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily, the plug shifting deeper with the motion.
Kai chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through me. "Eager little thing, aren't you? All this time hiding under those nerdy clothes." He hooked his fingers into my panties and yanked, the lace tearing with a sharp rip that echoed in the quiet office. Cool air hit my exposed pussy, my folds slick and swollen, clit pulsing visibly. He dipped two fingers into me without warning, curling them against that sensitive spot inside, while his thumb resumed its assault on my clit.
The dual sensations—fingers pumping in my cunt, plug twisting in my ass—were overwhelming. My glasses fogged slightly from my ragged breaths, and I clutched the desk harder, papers crumpling under my palms. The scents intensified: my feminine musk, his masculine edge, the faint ozone from the rain outside. Every thrust of his fingers squelched wetly, obscene and erotic, building that coil in my belly tighter, tighter.
But he stopped just as I teetered on the edge, withdrawing his hand with a slick pop. I whined in protest, empty and frustrated. "Not yet," he said, his voice strained. I heard the zipper of his pants, the rustle of fabric, and then the hot, velvety length of his cock slapped against my ass cheek. Thick, at least eight inches, veined and curving slightly upward, the head already beading with pre-cum.
He removed the plug fully this time, the emptiness immediate and aching. Cold lube dribbled onto my hole—he must have grabbed it from a discreet drawer—and his fingers returned, three now, stretching me wider. The burn was intense, tears pricking my eyes, but the pleasure outweighed it, my body adapting, craving.
"Relax," he murmured, free hand stroking my back soothingly. Then, the head of his cock pressed against my ass, insistent. He pushed in slowly, inch by torturous inch, the girth splitting me open. I felt every detail—the ridge of his crown popping past the ring of muscle, the veins throbbing against my walls. Fullness like I'd never known, a deep, invasive claim that had me moaning loudly, uncaring if anyone heard.
Once fully seated, hips flush against my ass, he stilled, letting me adjust. His hands gripped my thighs, fingers digging in, bruising, as he tore the remnants of my stockings further, exposing more skin to his touch. The pain mingled with pleasure, heightening everything. Then he moved—pulling out almost entirely, the drag exquisite, before slamming back in.
The rhythm built: slow at first, each thrust deliberate, savoring the tight heat of me. Sensory overload assaulted me—the slap of his balls against my dripping pussy, the wet sounds of our joining, his grunts mixing with my cries. He reached around again, fingers finding my clit, pinching and rolling it roughly. My orgasm built relentlessly, a tsunami approaching.
"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, pace quickening, hips snapping harder. He tore into me, relentless, the desk creaking under the force. I came undone, screaming his name as waves crashed over me, ass spasming around his cock, pussy gushing onto his fingers.
He followed seconds later, burying deep with a guttural roar, hot cum flooding me in thick ropes, marking me inside and out.
In the aftermath, as we caught our breath, the rain softened to a drizzle. Kai helped me straighten, his touch surprisingly gentle now. "Keep misunderstanding me," he whispered, lips brushing mine in our first kiss. "I like it."
From that day, the office whispers changed. But I didn't care. Kai knew me now—every hidden curve, every secret desire. And el chiquito? It became our code for so much more.