'POWER STRUGGLE' [pt. 1]

"Are you sure you can order me around?" She questioned, her fingers slithering from his temple to his cheek. His pale skin shuddered, a chill running down his spine.

She had broken all the locks of their house and drove to his office, her eyes and chest filled with rage.

"You need to stay inside." He murmured, his body tensing on his chair, his fingers clinging to the papers in a closed file on the table she was sitting on.

His heart was thundering in his chest, his toes curling. He feared the recklessness she was acting. He was aware of her capability of doing anything that crossed her mind, yet he chose to be courageous.

She sprung up. He exhaled heavily, watching her from the corner of his eyes.

She clenched her jaw, chuckled in the quiet room, and closed the blinds. She wanted to teach him a lesson.

Gulping strongly, he stood up, followed her, and seized her shoulders when she turned to face him.

"You need rest!" He inhaled. "The doctor said you're weak because of overworking!" He fussed, his tone careful and agitated, staring into her eyes.

She had been going to work against the doctor's advice. He tried protecting her from overwork, but she discarded his words. There had been no one who would deny him.

When she rejected both the doctor and his suggestion, he resolved to the last resort he had. He had to do it. There was no other way.

Her gaze froze on him, cold and with no expression, and she shrugged his hands from her shoulders like dust off the table.

He flinched, his eyes flickering. She was angry, in a state where she could do anything. She shoved his chest with force. "So, you would lock me up in my own house?" She did not like anyone taking over her life. She absolutely loathed it.

Silence, her mellow breathing, her red, soaked eyes enlargin,g and her eerie tone. "You think you can control me?" A frosty sensation spasmed through his body and twitched his rod inside his pants.

He should not have been getting hard at such a moment, but her eyes, her mean words, and her actions were jabbing his head towards submission.

She nudged him again, striding towards him, her fingers solidifying.

His heart thumped, and his dick pulsated. He swallowed dry, his eyes uneasy at her, and strode backwards, wishing her to calm down or he would be belittled to a mess in front of her. "I - I don't want that. But - you need to listen!" Stuttering, his tone meek.

"Why?" She scorned, nudging him again.

He stumbled onto his table, knocking the penholder, his ass resting on the table, goosbumps all over his skin. He peeked at his crocth. It was huge, like a mountain, breathing heavily inside his pants. He wished for her eyes to stay away from it.

"You really have some guts." She raised her eyebrows, her tone darker.

"Just l-listen to me first." He stuttered, lightly panting, and grasped her wrist the fourth time she was about to push his chest.

He wanted to calm her down, his body thawing up.

But she did not listen.

She resisted his grip, struggling with his strength to free herself, but he remained persistent.

When she could not get rid of his grasp, she slapped him with her free hand and released herself, caressing her wrist, her eyes darker.

His dick twitched and dropped a pearl of pre-cum inside his pants. Whimper escaped his lips, his heavy breaths reverberating after that.

He caressed his cheek, his eyes staring at his dick, dread crawling his skin like lust. Why? At such a moment?′

She clutched his jaw and muttered in his ear. "Have you forgotten your place?"

"Ngh!" He whimpered, his cock throbbing. 'What the fuck is wrong with me?'

"Should I remind you of your place?" Her fingers danced from his abdomen to his neck and clutched his tie.

Weeping and panting, he grasped the edge of the table, unable to calm his hardening cock anymore.

She instantly removed his tie, stood him up, and turned him around against the table, unaware of the monster inside his pants pulsating just from a little harsh treatment. She would have make him cum just from her laughter if she had found out.

His breaths hitched, his eyebrows curled, and his stomach churned. He felt her palms yank his hands back and tie them with his tie, her touch burning his skin.

Sweating and biting his lip, he whined at his crotch pressed against the corner of the table. 'Oh, God! I'm getting harder.'

"We should talk about this calmly." He wriggled, whining, and tried moving his itching crotch away from the soft sensations of the table edge. It was grazing his cock with mild pain causing him great pleasure. 'I'm so fucking pathetic.'

"Your body needs rest." He whimpered, trying to stop her from ruining her health even more and to protect himself from being called a pervert.

"Shut up!" She turned him around, pushed him onto his knees, and began removing her pencil skirt when someone knocked on the door.

Their eyes quickly fell upon the door. His eyes widened. "Untie me, please!" He whimpered, panting.

She was composed.

She smirked, removed her skirt, and sat on his chair. "You love controlling people, right?" She whispered.

His eyes and body jittered, his leaking rod soaking his underwear. 'She's going to do something.' The knocking continued.

"I'm not 'people,' and you can't control me." It was a warning; he understood very well.

She stuffed him under his own little desk like a sack of potatoes, his knees glued to the ground, his tied hands and squirming against the table, his large frame struggling to breathe in the small desk.

He wanted to stop her, but the snake in his pants wanted something else. It was like always; he tried controlling her, trying to maintain his dominance, but failed.

At least he tried using his teeth to threaten her once in a while. It didn't matter if those same teeth were biting his lips to seal his moan the next moment.

END OF THE PART. 1

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