Jeon never pretended he hired Y/n for her résumé alone. Six months in and he still got hard watching her walk into his office every morning in those prim little skirts and buttoned-up blouses, wedding ring flashing like a fucking dare. Married two years. Gold band thin and plain. Hair in a tight bun. Blouses done all the way up. Skirts that stopped just below the knee like she was trying to convince the world she wasn’t the kind of woman who got wet when her boss stared at her ass.

He wanted to ruin her the first week.

It started with the small shit. He’d lean over her desk while she typed, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body and the bulge in his trousers if she shifted even an inch. “The quarterly numbers,” he’d murmur right against her ear, voice low and dirty. His cuff would brush her wrist. His cock would press lightly against the side of her chair. Accidental. Always accidental. She’d scoot left just enough to keep it professional, never far enough to actually stop him, and answer in that careful, even tone.

“They’re ready for your review, Mr. Jeon.”

He’d linger another second, eyes on the screen, then drop to the soft line of her throat where her pulse was jumping. “Good. Stay late tonight. I want the revised projections on my desk before you leave. And wear something more appropriate.”

She always stayed.

The late nights became a ritual. Office empty by seven. Glass walls reflecting the city. Y/n would bring the files in, set them on the edge of his desk, and stand with her hands folded while he read. Sometimes he’d call her closer.

“Explain this column to me.”

She’d step around the desk, careful not to brush against him, and point. His chair would roll nearer. His knee would press hard against the soft meat of her thigh through her skirt. She’d finish the explanation, voice steady, then take one small step back like she hadn’t just felt his cock twitch against her leg.

He noticed everything.

The way her breathing changed when he stood behind her at the copier, reaching past her for a document, chest almost flush to her back, hard-on pressed against the curve of her ass for half a second too long. The way her fingers tightened on the paper. The flush that crept up the back of her neck. She never said a word. Never leaned in. Never invited. But she didn’t leave the room either. She’d just stand there with her cunt getting wet while her boss “accidentally” ground against her.

One Thursday he kept her to reorganize client folders in the small conference room. Long table. Dimmer lights. Boxes on the floor. He worked beside her, sleeves rolled up, watching the way her blouse pulled tight across her tits when she reached for a higher shelf.

“You’re very thorough,” he said, handing her a folder. Their fingers touched. He let his linger, thumb stroking the side of hers like he was already imagining it wrapped around his cock. “Most assistants clock out at five and go home to their husbands. You stay. Makes a man wonder what you’re really after.”

She took the folder. “It’s part of the job.”

“Is it?” He smiled, slow and filthy.

She kept sorting, spine straight. “He’s understanding. Travel for work this week.”

Jeon’s eyes dropped to her left hand, to the ring. Then back to her face. “Convenient. Means I can keep you late and no one’s waiting to fuck you when you get home.”

She didn’t answer. But when he moved past her, his hand settled low on the small of her back, fingers spreading over the top of her ass, guiding her like the space was too narrow. The touch was light enough to deny. Firm enough that she felt it all the way to her cunt. She reached for the next box too fast. Lid slipped. Papers everywhere.

He crouched with her. Close. Knees almost touching. When she straightened he was already up, and the distance was nothing. His hand came up as if to steady her, fingers brushing the side of her waist, then lower, cupping the outside of her hip for a second too long.

“Careful,” he said, voice rough. “Wouldn’t want you on your knees for the wrong reason… yet.”

Her breath hitched. Just once. She stepped back, smoothed her skirt, and kept working. But the crack was there. He saw the way her thighs pressed together.

The following week he stopped pretending the touches were accidents. Passing her coffee in the morning, fingers closing over hers around the cup, holding while he stared at her mouth. “Two sugars. The way you take it.”

She had never told him how she took her coffee.

In meetings he sat beside her. Under the table his knee pressed against hers, then his hand dropped to her thigh, high enough that his fingers brushed the edge of her skirt. He kept it there the whole presentation, thumb stroking slow circles on the soft skin just above her knee. She took notes. Answered questions. Didn’t shift away. When the meeting ended she stood first, gathering her things with precise movements, but her cheeks were flushed and the front of her blouse showed the faint points of her nipples.

He started commenting on her clothes like he already owned the body under them.

“New blouse,” he said one morning, eyes locked on the way the pale fabric stretched across her tits. “Suits you.”

“Thank you.”

“It makes me wonder what you’d look like with the top three undone.”

She paused in the doorway, files in hand. For a second her gaze flicked to his mouth, then lower, to the obvious bulge in his trousers. Then away. “That would be inappropriate, Mr. Jeon.”

“Would it?” He leaned back, studying her. “You’re the one who’s careful. I’m just telling you how good it would look.”

She set the files down and left without another word. But later that afternoon, when she brought him coffee, the top button was still fastened… and her nipples were hard. He stood, took the cup, and deliberately let his fingers slide along the inside of her wrist, then higher, brushing the soft skin of her forearm.

“You’re warm,” he murmured. 

She pulled her hand back gently. “The building’s heating is high today.”

He smiled. “Sure it is.”

Nights got longer and filthier. He’d keep her until nine, ten, sometimes later, going over the same numbers twice just to keep her in the room. Once, when she leaned across his desk to point out a discrepancy, her skirt rode up and he got a clear look at the backs of her thighs. He watched the shift of fabric over her ass. When she straightened he was closer, hand on the edge of the desk beside her hip, caging her in.

“You work too hard,” he said, voice quieter. “Does he know how late you stay for me?”

“He knows I have a demanding job.”

“Demanding.” His eyes dropped to her mouth. “That’s one word for it.”

She held his gaze for two full seconds longer than professionalism allowed. Then she stepped sideways, out from between him and the desk, and collected the contracts. “Will that be all, Mr. Jeon?”

“For now.”

He started finding reasons to walk her to the elevator after late nights. The building was nearly empty. The hallway lights were lower. He would walk close enough that their arms brushed with every step. Once, the elevator doors took too long to close. He reached past her to press the button again, and his chest pressed lightly against her shoulder. She didn’t move. The doors slid shut. The car descended in silence. When they reached the lobby he said, almost conversationally, “I think about you when I go home.”

She looked at him then, really looked, and for a fraction of a second something unguarded crossed her face. Want. Fear. The two tangled. Then the professional mask slid back into place.

“Goodnight, Mr. Jeon.”

He watched her walk to the street, the sway of her hips under the skirt, the way she checked her phone as if grounding herself in the life waiting for her outside these walls.

The cracks widened.

She began arriving earlier. Staying later without being asked. Bringing him coffee the way he liked it without being told. When he stood behind her at her desk and rested a hand on the back of her chair, she no longer tensed quite so sharply. Sometimes, if he was very still, he could feel the faintest lean of her body toward the heat of his.

One evening the printer jammed. She was on her knees beside it, trying to clear the paper, skirt stretched tight across her thighs and ass. He crouched behind her under the pretext of helping. His hand covered hers on the tray. His other hand settled, almost absently, on the curve of her hip to steady himself as he reached deeper into the machine.

“Almost,” he said against the side of her neck. His breath stirred the fine hairs at her nape. “There.”

The paper came free. Neither of them moved for a long moment. His fingers flexed once on her hip, a slow press, testing how much give the fabric allowed. She exhaled shakily and stood, smoothing her skirt with hands that were not entirely steady.

“Thank you,” she said.

He rose with her, still too close. “Anytime.”

That night he kept her until nearly eleven. The city outside the glass was a blur of lights. He had her stand beside his chair while he went through the final revisions, and every so often his hand would drift to the outside of her thigh, resting there as if it belonged, thumb stroking once, twice, before falling away again. She stayed. She answered his questions. She did not tell him to stop.

When she finally gathered her bag he walked her to the elevator again. This time, when the doors closed, he turned to face her fully.

“You’re careful,” he said. “I respect the performance. But I see you, Y/n. The way you look at my mouth when you think I’m not watching. The way you don’t pull away when I put my hand on your ass. The way your panties are already wet every single time I touch you.”

She swallowed. “I’m married.”

“I know.” His voice dropped into something filthy. “That’s what makes it so fucking hot. Knowing that ring is still on your finger while I get you dripping for me.”

The elevator reached the lobby. She stepped out first. He let her go.

The next day the tension finally snapped.

She wore a darker skirt, slightly more fitted. Still professional. Still careful. But when she bent to retrieve a dropped pen during a meeting, the fabric pulled tight across her ass, and Jeon’s gaze stayed locked on it until she straightened. Under the table his hand found her knee and stayed there the rest of the hour, fingers stroking slow and proprietary up the inside of her thigh until they were brushing the heat of her cunt through her panties. Her handwriting wavered. Her breathing went shallow. She still didn’t move his hand away.

After the meeting she lingered in his office under the excuse of needing a signature. He signed. Then he stood, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of her. Close. Closer than he had ever been in daylight with the door still open.

“You’ve been distracted today,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” His hand came up, not quite touching her cheek, hovering near the side of her face. “I can smell how wet you are. Every time I touch you, you go still like you’re waiting for me to finally stop being careful and just take it.”

She didn’t deny it. Her breathing had gone shallow. The ring on her finger caught the light as her hands clenched at her sides.

He stepped in until the front of his body pressed against hers and she could feel the hard line of his cock against her stomach. “I want you bent over this desk,” he said, voice low and crude. “I want my hand under this careful little skirt. I want to feel how soaked that married cunt is for me. And then I want to fuck you so deep you forget you’re supposed to be someone else’s wife.”

Her eyes fluttered. For one dangerous second she swayed toward him, thighs pressing together like she was already aching.

Then she stepped back, just enough. “Mr. Jeon. This is—”

“Inappropriate. I know.” He smiled, slow and dark and filthy. “But you haven’t walked out. You haven’t reported me. And every night you stay later than you need to so I can keep touching you.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. The silence stretched thick and charged.

He reached past her and closed the office door. The soft click of the lock was quiet, but it changed everything.

“Tell me to open it,” he said. “Tell me to stop. And I will.”

She didn’t speak.

He moved in. One hand settled hard on her waist, no more pretense. The other slid up her side, thumb brushing the underside of her breast through the blouse before he cupped it fully, squeezing the soft weight of it like he’d been starving for it. She made a small sound, half protest, half needy, and her hands came up to rest against his chest—not pushing, just there, fingers curling into the fabric.

“You’ve been so fucking careful,” he murmured against her temple. “So good. And I’ve been patient. Watching you get wet for me while you pretend you’re not. Watching that ring on your finger while you let me feel you up.”

His hand slid lower, over the curve of her hip, then around to the back of her skirt. He gripped her ass hard, fingers digging in, pulling her flush against him so she could feel exactly how hard and thick his cock was. She gasped. Her fingers tightened in his shirt.

“Jeon—”

“Say it again.” He squeezed harder, kneading the soft flesh, then shoved his hand under the hem of her skirt, palm sliding up the bare back of her thigh. Stockings. Lace at the top. He groaned when his fingers found the edge of her panties and the heat already soaking through them. “Fuck. Look at this. Married little slut already dripping for her boss.”

She trembled. Her forehead dropped against his shoulder for a second, the only real crack she allowed, a soft broken sound escaping her throat. Then she tried to straighten, tried to reclaim some control.

He didn’t let her.

He turned her, one hand still under her skirt, the other guiding her until the edge of his desk pressed against the front of her thighs. He bent her forward with slow, deliberate pressure until her palms flattened on the polished wood, files scattering. Her skirt was shoved up to her hips. The cool air of the office kissed the backs of her thighs and the wet crotch of her panties.

“Look at you,” he said, voice rough with filthy satisfaction. He stood behind her, one hand spanning the small of her back to keep her pinned, the other sliding between her legs again, cupping her through the soaked fabric. “Married. Professional. And soaking through your panties on my desk like a desperate little whore.”

She made a broken sound. Her hips shifted, a tiny, involuntary rock against his hand.

He pushed the fabric aside. Two thick fingers slid along her folds, gathering the slick wetness, then pressed inside her slowly, stretching her open. She clenched around him with a soft, shocked moan she tried to muffle against her arm.

“That’s it,” he murmured, working his fingers deeper, curling them against the spot that made her thighs shake. “No more careful. Not in here. Not with me.” His other hand reached around, found the buttons of her blouse, and ripped them open one by one until he could shove the cups of her bra down and palm her bare tit, pinching the tight nipple hard enough to make her whimper. “I’ve wanted to do this for months. Watch you try so hard not to want it. Feel this tight cunt give in anyway.”

He fucked her with his fingers in steady, deep strokes, the wet filthy sound of it obscenely loud in the quiet office. Every time she tried to straighten he pressed her back down harder. Every time she whimpered he ground the heel of his hand against her clit until her legs trembled and her hips started pushing back for more like she couldn’t help herself.

“You’re going to come on my desk,” he told her, voice dark and crude. “And then I’m going to bend you over properly, pull these panties to the side, and bury my cock in this married cunt until you’re dripping down your thighs and begging me not to stop.”

Her orgasm hit hard and sudden, a sharp cry she couldn’t swallow, body clamping down on his fingers as she came hard, shaking, cunt pulsing around him. He worked her through it, relentless, adding a third finger, stretching her open, until she was trembling and oversensitive and still rocking back against his hand like a slut who had finally stopped pretending.

Only then did he withdraw his fingers, bring them to his mouth, and suck them clean while she watched over her shoulder, eyes glassy, lips parted, ring glinting on the hand still braced on his desk.

“Undo it,” he said, voice low and rough against her ear. “Take my belt off like a good little married slut. Free my cock so I can finally give that neglected cunt something worth feeling.”

Her fingers trembled. She fumbled with the buckle, the metal clinking as she worked it open under his guidance. He kept one hand heavy on the small of her back, pinning her in place, while the other helped her push the leather aside and drag the zipper down. His cock sprang free fully, hot and massive, the thick vein along the underside pulsing against her palm when he made her wrap her fingers around it for a second.

“That’s it. Look at the size of it. Stroke it once. Feel how much bigger it is than whatever tiny thing your husband sticks in you.”

She did, a shaky stroke from base to tip, and a soft, broken sound escaped her throat. He pulled her hand away before she could do more, then reached for her left hand again. His fingers closed around the thin gold band on her ring finger. He twisted it slowly, deliberately, until it slid free.

Y/n’s breath caught. “Jeon—”

“Quiet.” He slipped the ring onto his own finger—her husband’s ring, now sitting on the hand that had just been inside her—and held it up so she could see it gleam under the office lights. “This stays on me while I play with what’s mine tonight.”

He pushed two fingers back into her cunt without warning, thick and deep, curling them hard against the spot that made her thighs shake. The metal of her own wedding ring pressed cold against her folds with every thrust of his hand. He worked her open, wet sounds filling the quiet office, then slid his fingers lower, spreading her wider, until the ring brushed directly against the tight rim of her asshole.

She jerked. A sharp, embarrassed moan tore out of her.

“Feel that?” he mocked, voice thick with satisfaction as he rubbed the ring in slow, deliberate circles against her rim while his fingers kept fucking her cunt. “Your husband’s ring on my finger, touching your little asshole while I finger-fuck his wife over my desk. Does he know how easy it was to get you this wet? How fast you came for me?”

Y/n’s forehead dropped to the wood. Her hips pushed back anyway, chasing the stretch. The words started spilling out of her in a shaky, almost sobbing rush—part confession, part filthy need.

“He… he can’t,” she whispered, voice cracking. “His dick is so small. It’s always been small. He tries and it barely fills me, barely reaches anywhere that matters. I lie there and I pretend, but I’m empty the whole time. I’ve been empty for months. I need—” Her breath hitched as he pressed the ring harder against her rim and curled his fingers deeper. “I need something big. Something that actually stretches me. You’re so fucking big, Jeon. God, thank you. Thank you for having a cock that can actually do something to me.”

He groaned, low and hungry, and kept working her—three fingers now, the ring still grazing her asshole with every stroke, mocking her with every wet sound.

“Size queen little slut,” he said, almost fond. “Starving for a real dick while you go home to that tiny thing. Look at you. Bent over for your boss, wedding ring on my hand, cunt dripping down my wrist, telling me how unsatisfied you are.” He leaned over her, chest to her back, and spoke right against her ear. “I’m going to fix that. Every time you feel empty after he finishes in two minutes, you’re going to remember this. My fingers. My cock. This desk.”

She was shaking harder now, the careful professional completely gone. Her voice came out raw and needy.

“I want it raw. Please. No condom. Just you. I want to feel every inch of that massive cock stretching me open. And I—” She swallowed, then pushed the next words out like a confession she couldn’t hold back. “I want to deep-throat you first. I want to choke on it. I want to show you how a real cock is supposed to be treated, because he never lets me, never fills my mouth the way I need. Please. Let me suck it. Let me be the slut he never gets.”

Jeon’s cock twitched hard against her thigh. He pulled his fingers free with a wet sound, the ring still on his hand, and stepped back just enough to turn her. He kept her bent at the waist, one hand fisted in her hair, and guided her down until she was on her knees in front of him, face level with the thick, leaking cock that had been denied her for months.

“Open,” he ordered, voice dark with pure satisfaction. “Show me what a starved, cheating little bitch does when she finally gets the size she needs.”

Y/n’s lips parted immediately. She looked up at him—eyes glassy, makeup slightly smeared, wedding ring gleaming on the hand that still rested on the back of her head—and took the head of his cock into her mouth like she had been waiting her whole marriage for it. She sank down as far as she could on the first try, throat working, eyes watering, and the broken, grateful moan she made around his thick shaft told him exactly how badly she had needed this.

Jeon held her there, the ring on his finger pressed against her cheek, and let her choke herself on him the way she had begged for—slow, deep, messy—while he watched his married assistant finally get the cock she had been starving for.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice thick. “Take it. Gag on it. Show me how much better this is than anything that tiny dick at home could ever give you. I’m going to fuck every empty place he left in you tonight. Starting with this pretty throat.”

And he did—guiding her, using her, letting her be the desperate, size-hungry, cheating slut she had confessed to being—while the office stayed locked and silent around them, and her husband’s ring stayed right where it belonged: on the hand of the man who was finally filling her the way she needed.

He didn’t make her wait. He shoved back into her open mouth and started fucking her face in earnest, short, deep strokes that made her gag and drool and take it anyway. The ring on his finger kept brushing her cheek, a constant mocking reminder. Every time she looked up at him with glassy, desperate eyes he felt his cock throb harder.

“Listen to you,” he said, voice thick with contempt and lust. “Married woman on her knees in her boss’s office, wedding ring on my hand, choking herself on cock because her husband can’t even fill her mouth. You’re a size-queen slut. Admit it.”

“I’m a size-queen slut,” she gasped the second he pulled her off again, spit shining on her chin. “His dick is useless. Tiny. Soft half the time. I’ve been so empty—please, fuck my throat, use me, I need it—”

He gave her what she begged for. He held her hair in a tight fist and used her mouth like a toy, watching her eyes roll and her throat work and the wet, obscene sounds fill the room. When her mascara started to run he only fucked her, thrusting deeper, until she was a mess of tears and spit and broken moans. Only when his cock was slick and throbbing and ready did he finally pull free with a wet pop.

Y/n stayed on her knees, panting, looking up at him like he had hung the moon. “Please. Raw. Inside me. I want to feel every vein. I want you to stretch me open and fill me so deep I can’t walk straight tomorrow. I want to feel you while I go home to him.”

Jeon hauled her up by the hair and bent her back over the desk in one rough motion. Her bare tits pressed to the cold wood. Her ass was high. Her cunt was dripping down her inner thighs. He lined up the fat head of his cock and shoved in to the hilt in one brutal stroke.

She screamed.

The sound was pure, broken pleasure. Her cunt clenched and fluttered around the sudden massive intrusion, stretched wider than she had ever been. Jeon didn’t give her time to adjust. He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the office. The ring on his finger dug into her hip as he gripped her hard enough to bruise.

“Feel that?” he snarled, setting a punishing pace. “That’s what a real cock feels like. That’s what you’ve been starving for while you pretended to come on that pathetic little dick at home. Take it. Take every fucking inch.”

“Yes—fuck—yes—” Y/n shoved back to meet every thrust, voice high and slutty and completely shameless. “It’s so deep—Jeon, you’re in my stomach—I’ve never been this full—don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

He fucked her like he was trying to break her. Hard, deep, relentless strokes that made the desk creak and her tits scrape against the wood. Every time he bottomed out she sobbed with relief. Every time he dragged the thick ridge of his cock over her g-spot she clenched and moaned like a whore. He reached around, found her clit, and rubbed it in tight circles while he pounded her, the ring on his finger sliding through her wetness and bumping her swollen nub with every stroke.

“Tell me again,” he ordered. “Tell me how tiny he is. Tell me how much better this is.”

“He’s so small,” she cried, voice cracking with every brutal thrust. “Barely three inches hard. He can’t even reach—ah fuck—he can’t reach where you’re hitting right now. I’ve faked it for years. I’ve been so empty. Your cock is perfect—massive—thank you, thank you for fucking me like this—”

Jeon groaned and spanked her ass hard enough to leave a red handprint. Then again. And again. The sharp cracks mixed with the wet sound of his cock ploughing her cunt. She only got louder, pushing back harder, begging for more.

“Harder—spank me harder—call me what I am—”

“Cheating size-queen slut,” he growled, delivering another stinging slap. “Office whore. Married bitch who opens her legs for her boss the second she’s left alone. You’re going to come on this cock and then I’m taking you to the window so anyone who looks up can see what a desperate little slut you are.”

The threat only made her clench harder. He felt the first flutter of her orgasm and chased it, fucking her through it until she was screaming and shaking and squirting around his cock in messy, helpless pulses. He didn’t stop. He kept pounding her through the aftershocks until she was a trembling, oversensitive mess, still pushing back for more like she couldn’t get enough.

Only then did he pull out. His cock was shiny with her cum, thick and angry and still rock-hard. He spun her around, lifted her by the thighs, and carried her the few steps to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the glittering city. Night had fully fallen. The office lights were low. Anyone in the building across the street with decent eyesight or binoculars could see exactly what was happening if they looked.

He pressed her front against the cold glass.

“Hands on the window,” he ordered. “Spread your legs. Arch your back. Let the whole fucking city see the married assistant getting her cunt destroyed by her boss.”

Y/n obeyed instantly, palms flat on the glass, ass pushed out, legs spread wide. The cool surface made her nipples pebble hard. Jeon stepped behind her, gripped her hips, and slammed back inside in one thrust. The new angle let him go even deeper. She cried out, forehead dropping against the glass, breath fogging it in frantic clouds.

He fucked her against the window like an animal.

Every thrust drove her tits against the glass. Every withdrawal left her clenching and empty and desperate. The city lights blurred beyond the glass. The risk of being seen only made her wetter. She could feel how exposed she was—skirt around her waist, blouse hanging open, cunt stuffed full of thick cock, wedding ring still gleaming on the hand that held her hip.

“Look at you,” Jeon snarled against her ear, never slowing. “Pressed against the window like a whore on display. Anyone could see. Your husband could walk by right now and see his wife’s cunt stretched around another man’s cock. Does that get you off, you filthy cheating slut?”

“Yes,” she sobbed, pushing back to take him deeper. “God, yes—I want them to see—I want him to know—I’m so full, Jeon, you’re splitting me open—don’t stop, please don’t ever stop—”

He reached around and rubbed her clit again, the ring on his finger sliding through her soaked folds and bumping the swollen nub with every thrust. The dual sensation—massive cock stretching her open and the cold metal of her own wedding ring teasing her clit—pushed her straight toward another orgasm.

“Come for the window,” he ordered. “Come so hard the glass gets wet. Show the city what a size-starved married bitch looks like when she finally gets the cock she needs.”

She shattered.

Her scream echoed off the glass. Her cunt clamped down so hard he had to force his way through the contractions, fucking her through the climax until she was sobbing and shaking and dripping down both their thighs. He didn’t let her recover. He kept her pinned there, still buried to the hilt, and started talking again in that low, filthy voice.

“We’re not done. You wanted every dream fulfilled. You wanted to be used. You wanted to be filled. You wanted to feel like a real slut for once instead of a frustrated wife. So you’re going to take everything I give you.”

He pulled out only long enough to spin her around, drop to his knees, and bury his face between her thighs. He ate her like a man starving—tongue fucking into her fluttering cunt, sucking hard on her oversensitive clit, the ring on his finger pressed against her ass as he held her open. She came again within minutes, thighs clamped around his head, hands fisted in his hair, moaning brokenly about how her husband never went down on her, never made her come like this, never made her feel so filthy and wanted.

When he stood again his mouth was shiny with her. He kissed her hard, forcing her to taste herself, then turned her and bent her over the low windowsill so her tits hung free and her ass was perfectly presented. He pushed back inside and resumed the brutal pace, one hand in her hair, the other spanking her ass red while he fucked her.

“Tell me what else you want,” he demanded. “Tell me every dirty thing that little cheating brain of yours has fantasized about while you sat at your desk pretending to be professional.”

The words poured out of her between gasps and moans, slutty and unfiltered.

“I want you to come inside me—raw—fill me up so I can feel it leaking while I sit at my desk tomorrow. I want you to make me walk around with your cum dripping down my thighs. I want you to fuck my ass someday—stretch that too—because he’s never even tried. I want you to use my mouth whenever you want, even during the day, even when people might hear. I want to be your office slut. I want to come to work already wet knowing you’re going to bend me over and remind me how tiny he is compared to you—”

Jeon groaned and fucked her harder, the wet slap of skin on skin loud enough that anyone in the hallway might have heard if the floor weren’t empty. He reached under her, found her clit again, and rubbed in tight, merciless circles.

“Then that’s what you’ll be,” he growled. “My cheating little size-queen office whore. Every time you’re empty at home you’ll remember this cock. Every time he finishes too fast you’ll remember how deep I was. Every time you look at that ring on your finger you’ll remember it was on mine while I fucked you against this window.”

She came again—harder, longer, body seizing around him as another gush of wetness soaked his cock and balls. The contractions pulled him over the edge. He slammed in to the root, buried so deep the head of his cock kissed her cervix, and unloaded in thick, heavy pulses. Rope after rope of cum flooded her cunt, so much that it immediately started leaking out around his shaft and dripping down her thighs in messy white streaks.

He stayed inside her, grinding slow circles, forcing every drop deeper while she trembled and whimpered and thanked him in broken, grateful sobs.

“Thank you—fuck—thank you for filling me—I’ve never felt so full—so used—so good—”

Only when his cock finally stopped twitching did he pull out. A thick river of cum followed, sliding down her inner thighs and dripping onto the floor. He turned her, made her watch in the reflection of the dark glass as he scooped some of it up with two fingers and pushed it back inside her, the wedding ring still on his hand gleaming against her messy, well-fucked cunt.

“Keep it in,” he ordered. “You’re going to sit at your desk tomorrow with my cum inside you and that careful professional face on. And every time you shift in your chair and feel it leaking, you’re going to remember who actually satisfies you.”

Y/n nodded, eyes glazed, lips swollen, body marked with red handprints and the imprint of the desk and the cold glass. She looked thoroughly ruined—exactly the way a size-starved, cheating little bitch should look after finally getting everything she had been desperate for.

Jeon wiped his cock across her lips, making her taste the mix of their combined mess, then tucked himself away with unhurried calm. He left the ring on his own finger a moment longer, letting her see it, before he finally slid it back onto her hand. The metal was warm from his skin. It felt different now. Heavier.

“Get dressed,” he said, voice still rough. “You’ll stay late again tomorrow. And the day after. And every day I decide I want to use this cunt. Understand?”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” she whispered, the title sounding like pure submission now. “I’ll be here. Empty. Ready. Whatever you want.”

He smiled, dark and satisfied, and watched her try to put herself back together—blouse buttoned over marked tits, skirt tugged down over a cunt still dripping his cum, hair smoothed even though nothing could hide the just-fucked flush on her face. When she was as presentable as she was going to get, he unlocked the door and sent her out into the empty hallway with one last proprietary slap on her ass.

He was going to make sure she never felt empty again.

Not while she belonged to him after hours.

Not while that ring sat on her finger as a lie.

And not while her boss was more than willing to keep fulfilling every last one of her dirtiest, sluttiest dreams—against the glass, over the desk, on her knees, or anywhere else he decided to remind her exactly who could finally satisfy the hungry little bitch she had been hiding all along.

—

[NEXT DAY]

Y/n walked into the office the next morning with her usual careful professional face, hair twisted up neat, blouse buttoned to the collarbone, skirt falling just below the knee. No one looking at her would have guessed that under the skirt there was nothing but bare, already-slick skin and two toys keeping her stretched and ready. A thick, textured plug sat deep in her cunt, the flared base nestled against her folds so every step made it shift and press. A smaller but still substantial plug filled her ass, the stretch a constant, dirty reminder of what she had begged for the night before. Both toys were slick with the lube she had used in the bathroom at home, and every movement sent a low, wet throb through her that made her thighs press together for a second before she forced them apart again.

She went straight to his office. Door closed behind her with a soft click. Jeon looked up from his desk, already knowing. His eyes dropped to the way her hips moved, the faint flush on her throat, the way she stood with her thighs slightly parted like she was trying not to squirm.

“Morning, Mr. Jeon,” she said, voice low and already husky. She didn’t wait for permission. She stepped around the desk, lifted the front of her skirt with both hands, and showed him everything. Bare cunt, swollen and shiny, the wide base of the plug stretching her open, a thin string of last night’s dried cum still clinging to her inner thigh. The smaller plug in her ass made the cheeks of her ass look full and lewd. “I came ready. No panties. Both holes stuffed so I’d stay open for you. I need a full cum dump. Right now. Inside me. Please. I woke up still feeling you leaking out of me and I need more. I need you to fill me until it’s running down my legs while I try to work.”

Jeon’s cock went hard so fast it almost hurt. He leaned back in his chair, eyes locked on the filthy display she was offering, and crooked a finger.

“Come here. Stand between my knees. Skirt higher. Let me see how well you prepared that greedy little cunt and ass for me.”

She obeyed at once, stepping between his spread thighs, holding the skirt up around her waist so the cool office air kissed her exposed, plugged holes. He reached out and gripped the base of the cunt plug, twisting it slowly. The textured ridges dragged against her walls. A thick, wet sound filled the quiet room as her juices coated his fingers. She moaned, soft and shameless, hips pushing forward into his hand.

“Listen to that,” he muttered, voice thick. “Already so fucking wet and I haven’t even touched you properly. You walked through the whole office with this thick toy stretching your married cunt open, dripping down your thighs, hoping I’d notice. Filthy little size-queen slut.”

He pulled the plug free in one slow, deliberate tug. It came out with a lewd, sucking pop, shiny and coated in her slick. Her cunt stayed open for a second, the pink hole gaping slightly before it fluttered and tried to close. A thin trickle of leftover cum from the night before slid out and ran down the inside of her thigh. She watched it with glazed eyes, lips parted.

“Fuck, look at that,” she whispered. “It’s still in me. I can feel the mushy parts of it when I walk. I love it. I need more. Please, Jeon—put your cock in and dump everything you’ve got. Fill me until I can’t hold it.”

He didn’t make her wait. He shoved the wet plug into her open mouth.

“Hold that. Taste yourself while I use you.”

She sucked the toy clean without hesitation, tongue working over every ridge while he freed his cock. It sprang out thick and already leaking, the head flushed dark. He gripped her hips, spun her so she faced the desk, and bent her forward until her tits pressed to the wood and her bare ass was presented. The smaller plug still sat deep in her ass, the base nestled between her cheeks. He lined up the fat head of his cock with her empty, still-gaping cunt and shoved in to the root in one brutal thrust.

Y/n choked on the plug in her mouth, a broken, grateful moan vibrating around it. Her cunt stretched wide around him, walls fluttering and clenching as if trying to pull him deeper. The wet, filthy sound of her taking every inch filled the office. He didn’t ease in. He started fucking her hard and deep from the first stroke, the slap of his hips against her ass loud and wet.

“That’s it,” he growled, one hand fisted in her hair, the other gripping the base of the ass plug so every thrust made it shift inside her. “Take that cock. Feel how much bigger it is than those toys. Feel how deep I can get when you’re already stretched and dripping for me. You walked in here with your holes stuffed like a whore on standby and now you’re going to get exactly what you asked for—a full fucking cum dump.”

She pushed back to meet every thrust, the plug still between her lips, spit running down her chin. Every time he bottomed out the head of his cock kissed her cervix and the pressure made her eyes roll. The dual stretch—his massive cock pounding her cunt while the plug kept her ass full—had her shaking within minutes.

He pulled the plug from her mouth and tossed it onto the desk. “Talk. Tell me how it feels while I ruin this cunt.”

“It’s so thick—fuck—Jeon, you’re stretching me wider than the toy ever could,” she gasped, voice raw. “I can feel every vein. Every time you slam in I get so full I think I’ll split. I need your cum. I need it hot and thick and mushy so it stays inside me all day. I want to sit at my desk with it leaking down my thighs and know you put it there. Please—harder—use me—”

He gave her harder. The desk creaked. Her tits scraped against the wood. He reached under her and rubbed her swollen clit in tight, merciless circles while he fucked her, the wet sounds of her cunt getting louder and messier with every stroke. She came hard, cunt clamping down around him in rhythmic pulses, a gush of clear fluid soaking his balls and the front of his trousers. He didn’t stop. He fucked her straight through it, chasing his own release, until his cock swelled and he slammed in deep and held there.

Hot, thick ropes of cum flooded her. Pulse after pulse, so much it immediately started forcing its way back out around his shaft in messy white rivulets. He ground against her, forcing every drop as deep as it would go, while she moaned and clenched and tried to keep it all inside.

“That’s one hole,” he said, voice rough with satisfaction. He pulled out slowly. A heavy stream of cum followed, sliding down her inner thighs in thick, sticky trails. She looked back over her shoulder, eyes glassy, and watched it drip.

“I love the way it feels,” she whispered. “Warm and mushy and heavy. I can feel it coating everything. Don’t clean me up. Leave it.”

“I’m not done.” He gripped the base of the ass plug and pulled it free with the same slow, deliberate tug. Her asshole gaped for a second, the pink rim stretched and shiny. He spat on it, rubbed the spit in with two fingers, then pressed the fat head of his still-hard, cum-slick cock against the tight ring.

“Push out,” he ordered. “Let me in. You’re getting the stretch you asked for.”

Y/n pushed. The head popped past the tight ring with a thick, filthy sound. She cried out, forehead dropping to the desk, as inch after thick inch forced its way into her ass. The stretch burned and filled her in a way the plug never had. He kept going until his hips were flush against her cheeks and his cock was buried to the balls in her virgin-tight ass.

“Fuck—Jeon—it’s so much—bigger than the plug—I can feel you in my stomach—”

“Good.” He started moving, slow at first, letting her feel every ridge and vein dragging against her walls, then harder, deeper, until he was properly fucking her ass with the same relentless pace he had used on her cunt. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with her broken moans and the soft, filthy sound of his cock pumping in and out of her stretched hole. Cum from her cunt kept dripping down, coating his balls and the base of his shaft, making everything slicker and dirtier.

He reached around and shoved three fingers into her still-leaking cunt, fucking both holes at once. The dual penetration made her scream. Her legs shook. Another orgasm ripped through her so hard her knees almost gave out. He held her up by the hips and kept pounding her ass, the ring he had put back on her finger earlier catching the light every time her hand flexed against the desk.

“You’re going to sit at your desk with my cum in both holes,” he told her, voice dark and filthy. “I’m going to plug this ass when I’m done so nothing leaks out, and you’re going to feel that thick, mushy load I just dumped in your cunt every time you shift in your chair. Every time you stand up. Every time you walk to the printer. You’re going to feel owned and used and full, exactly the way a cheating size-queen slut should feel.”

“Yes—please—I want that—” she sobbed, pushing back to take him deeper. “Fill my ass too. Dump another load in me. I want to be so full I can barely sit. I want to feel it all day. I love the mushy feeling—the way it sits heavy and warm and dirty inside me—”

He came again with a low, guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt in her ass and unloading a second thick load deep inside her. The heat of it made her moan and clench around him, milking every pulse. When he finally pulled out, both of her holes were open and dripping—cunt still leaking the first load in heavy white streaks down her thighs, ass gaping and shiny with the second.

He picked up the thicker plug, coated it in the mess leaking out of her, and pushed it slowly back into her cunt until the base sat flush against her folds, sealing most of the cum inside. Then he took the smaller plug, slicked it with the cum still dripping from her ass, and eased it back into her stretched hole. Both toys settled deep. She stood there trembling, skirt still around her waist, thighs shiny with the excess that had escaped, the plugs keeping her open and full.

Jeon fixed her skirt for her, smoothing it down over the hidden toys, then sat back in his chair and pointed at the door.

“Go to your desk. Sit down. Legs apart under the table so the air can touch that messy cunt. Every time you feel the plugs shift and the cum move inside you, remember who put it there. If it starts leaking down your thighs, you don’t wipe it. You leave it. I want to look out later and see the wet spot on your chair.”

Y/n nodded, cheeks flushed, eyes still glassy with the aftershocks. She walked out of his office on unsteady legs, the thick plugs shifting with every step, the heavy, mushy warmth of his cum coating her insides and slowly seeping around the bases to trickle down her bare thighs. She sat at her desk exactly as ordered—legs slightly spread, skirt hiding the mess, the constant dirty fullness making her cunt clench around the toy every few minutes.

Every time she shifted, the plugs pressed deeper and a fresh trickle of warm, thick cum slid further down her leg. She bit her lip to keep from moaning out loud, thighs sticky, holes stretched and claimed, already aching for the next time he decided to empty himself into her again.

She loved every filthy second of it.