Your erotic stories

After an uneventful Tuesday lunch, Kim was working monotonously in front of the computer in her cubicle when the intra-office IM alert sounded on her computer. When she viewed the message it simply read, "Care to play a secret game?" Moving the mouse to delete the message, she read the senders name, and her breath stopped. Black Silk Scarf. She knew instantly what it referred to.

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Jason stared at Marsha's ass as she leaned over the conference table in her office reviewing the ad layouts they'd been working on. Part of him was admiring her shapely ass, but most of him was still upset over the performance evaluation she'd given him yesterday. Jason was a 23-year-old artist, fresh out of art school, working for a medium size Ad Agency on the west coast.

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"Ugh. Whatever happened to standards Sharon? Why does everyone think all you need to be a secretary is to look good?" Meet Jake Andrews, a 38 year old CEO of a medium sized business firm. Jake looked pretty average with his brown hair, brown eyes, and an unassuming Caucasian face, not ugly but not handsome by any stretch.

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You may call me MistressM. Simply Mistress or Ma'am will do as well. At least you may call me that when I ask you to speak, which won't be often, unless I want to hear you beg. Let me explain so your small one-track man-brain can understand. I have a hobby that I very much enjoy -- it's dominating men like you.

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A sound outside her office window caused Cindy to jerk her head up. She had been staring blindly at her fingers resting on the black computer keyboard. They weren't moving, but her mind was a blur of thoughts…mostly bad ones. Cindy was temporarily relieved to be back in the real world instead of the illusory place in her head.

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Abbey was on her way to the job of her dreams. Growing up, she had always wanted to work at an investment firm like her father, who was very successful at what he did. She worked hard all of her life, determined to make it on her own. She went to the best schools and did all the right things. After a few notable internships, she was finally able to land an entry level position at a major investment firm in the big city.

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Insolent. That was the only word that came to mind as I looked at Jeremy Saitou. Everything about him seemed to radiate impudence: his brightly colored hair (red enough to rival any fire engine), his pierced brow and lower lip, the electric blue plugs in his stretched earlobes, his mouth, which—thanks to a small scar on the right side of his upper lip—was curled into a permanent sneer.

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His cubicle was just across from mine. On a normal day, I would tune out his stories. But today, I was curious, and couldn't help but listen. Would last night's experience become part of his lexicon of lust? Would I become one of the nameless conquests he bragged of to anyone who would listen? Needless to say, the answer was yes. What follows is my account of what happened, with his version of events interjected here and there.

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I groaned softly as I settled back at my desk, reaching down surreptitiously to massage one of my calves. "Too many trips to the copier again, Jessica?" My boss asked me sympathetically on her way by with her third cup of coffee. I heaved a deep sigh, starting to respond, but she was already back through her office door, letting it swing mostly closed as she settled in, sipping her coffee.

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"If this does not solve your issue Patrick. I swear to God I am going to fire you as soon as you get back." "Yes, sir." Patrick muttered as he hung up the phone. Patrick was sitting in some therapist's waiting room. He looked around at the cream-colored walls as he debated reading Newsweek. He decided against it and his mind wandered.

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