The office was dark except for the single desk lamp that cast Marcus in harsh relief. He stood rigid before Victor's massive oak desk, the older man's eyes cold and commanding as they raked over him. Victor had the evidencevideo from the company retreat, Marcus's drunken indiscretion with a colleague that could end his career in an instant. "On your knees," Victor said, voice low and unyielding. "Now."
Marcus's throat tightened. Every instinct screamed to walk out, but the folder on the desk held his future hostage. He dropped slowly, the carpet rough against his knees. Victor rose, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness. The sound of the zipper echoed like a gunshot. His cock sprang free, thick and already half-hard, the head flushed dark. "Open," Victor ordered.
Reluctance warred with the electric current of submission threading through Marcus's veins. He parted his lips. Victor gripped the back of his head, fingers twisting into his hair, and pushed forward. The blunt head breached his mouth, hot and insistent, stretching his lips wide. Marcus gagged at first, the taste salty and foreign, but Victor held him there, forcing him to breathe through his nose as the shaft slid deeper. "That's it," Victor growled. "Take it. You don't get to choose anymore."
Tears pricked Marcus's eyes as Victor thrust shallowly, using his mouth like a toy. The power imbalance was absoluteVictor fully dressed in his tailored suit, Marcus on the floor, jacket discarded, shirt open. Saliva dripped down his chin. Each push made his own cock twitch traitorously in his pants, the humiliation feeding a dark arousal he couldn't deny. Victor pulled back just enough for Marcus to gasp, then drove in again, deeper, until the head bumped the back of his throat.
"Swallow around it," Victor commanded. Marcus obeyed, throat convulsing, the muscles working against the invading length. Victor's grip tightened, hips rolling in a steady rhythm that left no room for resistance. The wet sounds filled the roomslick, obscene, punctuated by Marcus's choked breaths. Victor's other hand reached down, pinching a nipple through the open shirt, twisting hard enough to make Marcus moan around the cock in his mouth. The vibration drew a hiss from Victor.
Minutes stretched. Marcus's jaw ached, lips swollen and stretched taut. Victor used him without mercy, fucking his face with increasing force, balls slapping against Marcus's chin. "Look at me," Victor said. Marcus lifted his eyes, meeting the dominant gaze that pinned him more effectively than any restraint. In that look passed the full weight of the exchange: Marcus's surrender for Victor's silence, his body offered up as payment. The forced act blurred into something hotter, the power draining from Marcus and feeding Victor's pleasure.
Victor pulled out abruptly, stroking himself twice before painting Marcus's face with thick ropes of cum. It landed on his cheeks, across his lips, one streak catching his tongue. "Lick it clean," Victor ordered. Marcus did, tongue sweeping over his own lips, tasting the bitter salt, the act sealing his submission. Victor tucked himself away and sat back, watching as Marcus remained kneeling, marked and breathing hard.
"Same time tomorrow," Victor said. "And next time, you'll beg for it."
Marcus rose on unsteady legs, the evidence of his own arousal obvious. He left the office without a word, the door clicking shut behind him like the closing of a cage he was learning to crave.
