It started with a performance review.
Strictly professional. Or so I thought.
He sat behind his desk—tall, clean-cut, always in navy or black, his voice calm and measured. But his eyes? His eyes were something else.
When I finished my end-of-quarter report, he leaned back, studied me a little too long, then pulled something out of the drawer.
A jewelry box.
Rose gold, velvet interior, and inside... a collar.
Thin. Subtle. Minimalist, like everything he owned. “A gift,” he said. “For exceeding expectations.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is this… dress code compliant?”
He chuckled, then stood. Walked around the desk, slow and deliberate, until he was right behind me.
He clasped it around my neck himself.
“It suits you,” he murmured near my ear. “And yes—it’s compliant. Just... don’t take it off.”
I didn’t.
Monday: Staff Meeting
I walked into the office wearing it. Just a cute choker, right? Harmless. A little edgy, maybe.
But when I sat down in the conference room, something changed.
He entered last. No smile. No greeting. Just a slight tilt of his head in my direction.
That’s when I felt it.
A hum. Deep. Internal. Right against my throat... no—lower.
Inside me.
The collar. It wasn’t just jewelry. It was wired. Connected to something I hadn’t even noticed—until it kicked on and my thighs clenched instinctively.
I looked around. Nobody noticed.
Except him.
His eyes met mine for just a second.
And his finger tapped his phone once more.
The vibration intensified. My breath caught. I shifted in my seat, pretending to adjust my skirt. But the friction? That made it worse.
My nipples tightened beneath my blouse. I bit the inside of my cheek just to stay still.
And he just... kept talking. Presenting. Explaining sales figures as if he wasn’t holding my body hostage under the table.
Mid-Meeting Mayhem
“I think if we push the campaign 48 hours earlier, we’ll catch the Friday traffic,” he said, totally composed.
Meanwhile, I was melting in my seat. My pulse was thumping between my legs. I could feel slickness trickling down, soaking my panties. My hands were clenched in my lap so hard they were trembling.
And then—
He turned it off.
Nothing.
Silence.
Stillness.
The ache of denial.
After the Meeting
He stopped me in the hallway.
“Good control,” he said, tapping the collar.
Then he leaned in. “But you forgot to wear the plug.”
My stomach dropped. My breath hitched. My thighs pressed together on instinct.
“You didn’t mention—” I started.
“You’re trained now,” he said, walking away.
Tuesday: The Plug
It was smaller than I expected. Black silicone. Seamless. I slid it in before leaving for work, heart racing the whole subway ride.
I sat down at my desk.
Nothing.
An hour passed.
Two.
I was starting to think maybe he’d forgotten. Or worse, that this wasn’t a game to him at all. That he’d moved on.
Then my phone buzzed:
“You're such a good girl when you're filled.”
And then—
Click.
The plug and collar kicked on at the same time.
A low, rhythmic pulse. One that synchronised. One that escalated.
And I was stuck at my desk.
Typing. Smiling. Moaning softly into my coffee mug while the world spun around me like nothing was wrong.
I came—twice. Quietly. Shaking. And no one noticed.
Except him.
He passed by once, brushing his fingers along the back of my chair. “Lunch at 1,” he said.
Lunch
He didn’t order food.
He sat across from me, laid his phone on the table, and watched.
With one tap, he turned the toys back on.
“You’re going to ask to come,” he said.
I shook my head. “Not here. We’re in public.”
He smiled.
“That’s the point.”
He turned the settings to high.
And I broke.
Moaning into my napkin, I whispered, “Please… Sir. Please let me come.”
He didn’t nod. Didn’t react.
He just picked up his phone, held my gaze—