“Please,” I whispered, grasping my cock through the pants. Trying to stroke, failing.
“I could make you come in your pants. You’d be sticky all over. Then I’d tell you to go to the bathroom. You’d walk right by her with a wet stain on your pants. What do you think?”
Desperate, I bucked into my hand. Thrusting just for the pressure since I couldn’t get a handle on myself. “Ah, God. Please, Melissa. I’ll do anything.”
“Will you?” she asked, delighted. “Then say you’re my pet.”
I panted, my eyes glazing over. I was close, so close, and if she didn’t let me out soon, I would come in my pants. Just thinking about it, the humiliation of it, almost made me come. “I’m your pet,” I gasped out.
“Okay,” she sing-songed. “Go ahead and take it out, you dirty boy.”
My hands flew to my crotch, unzipping the already damp fabric, and got out my cock. My fingers scrabbled at the phone as the other hand stroked my cock frantically. I fell off my chair and onto my knees. The chair rolled into the wall behind me, and my forehead thumped against the desk, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t think. I was coming hard as she spouted dirty words into my ear. “Yes, that’s right. You’re my pet and you know it. She knows what you’re doing in there. She’s thinking about it and judging you, just like I am. What a nasty boy, getting his hands all dirty. Are you making a mess? I bet you are.”
Then I slumped against the file cabinet drawers, crushing my ear with the phone just to hold it in place.
“I did it,” I said, out of breath, out of everything.
“And?” she asked. “Did you make a mess?”
“Yes,” I said, with dread. Would she ask me lick it up? “All over the carpet.”
“Good.” Her voice soothed me. “Go ahead and clean it up. You have tissues or something?”
“Yeah.” I was horrified to realize my hand was shaking as I tucked myself in and zipped up.
On my desk were tissues which I used to wipe up the mess. My spunk would always be there, though, sunk into the fibers of the carpet. Maybe it would even leave a stain. I thought I would get hard every time I saw it, just thinking of this phone call.
“Hey,” she asked, sounding concerned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m…yeah.” Real eloquent, Wyle. Way to make a good impression – masturbate over the phone and then yammer like a moron. Then again, she had ordered me to do it. Or had I begged?
“You sure? You sound funny.”
I laughed. “Yeah, funny. Sorry, I guess it took a lot out of me.”
“All right,” she drew out. “If you’re sure, I gotta head back into work. But only if you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly. How horrifying that she’d stay on the line just to comfort me. All because I’d had an orgasm. You’d think it was my first time. “Go if you need to. Just go.”
“Okay.” Already she sounded distant. It wasn’t okay. “Talk to you later. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I sat down against the desk and banged my head back against the wood. And again.
Knocking on the door startled me from the floor.
“Mr. Jones. Wyle? Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I called hastily. “I’m fine. Just dropped something, but I’m fine.”
“Okay.” She sounded dubious, but she continued, “I’m leaving for the day.”
Thank God. “Okay. Thanks, Penny.”
I perched on my chair awkwardly as she packed up. When I heard the front door of the office shut, I let out a long breath that ended up more like a groan.
What was happening to me?