(Written Story) A Premature Story (9) - Office Submission

This story blossomed in my mind as I was working on my latest videos. It's a playful, optional read that adds a little extra context for those who enjoy diving deeper into my world. While the story ends with a link to the video, the video itself can certainly be enjoyed on its own. This is just a seductive treat for those who crave a bit of erotic storytelling alongside their experience. You’re welcome to add your comments on my Google Doc or simply enjoy it here.

Office Submission

Managing a bank requires a certain finesse—a blend of precision, authority, and empathy. As the bank’s manager, I’m responsible for ensuring everything runs smoothly, from overseeing daily operations to addressing any issues that arise. My team is solid, and I take pride in fostering a supportive environment where everyone feels valued and motivated.

Scott, my new intern, has quickly become a key part of this dynamic. He’s diligent and attentive, often going above and beyond in his tasks. I’ve noticed he has a natural ability to connect with clients and colleagues alike. But there’s one quirk that’s been increasingly puzzling me: his long bathroom breaks.

Despite his impressive work ethic, Scott’s frequent disappearances—lasting 25 to 30 minutes—have become a bit of a concern. It’s not that I’ve been meticulously tracking his time; rather, it’s something that’s naturally caught my attention as I’ve needed his assistance more often lately.

In my personal life, I’ve focused almost exclusively on my career. While I’ve had a few flings with coworkers here and there, I’ve found that the clash of strong personalities often leads to complications I’d rather avoid. What I’m looking for is someone who can complement my dominant nature—a bit more submissive, someone who appreciates a clear sense of direction and control.

Scott’s presence has been a small, bright spot in my otherwise structured routine. He’s always polite and eager to help, and I’ve made a point of offering guidance and encouragement. He’s responded well, and I’ve enjoyed watching him develop his skills.

But his mysterious absences have piqued my curiosity. Today, as I was engrossed in a project, I realized how urgently I needed to use the restroom myself. I hurried toward the private employee bathroom, my mind still on my work. The broken lock—a minor accident that had yet to be fixed—slipped my mind entirely.

As I pushed open the door and stepped inside, I was met with an unexpected sight. There was Scott, his back to me, pants around his ankles. The instant the door swung open, he spun around in a frantic attempt to cover himself, his face flushing with embarrassment. His hand was still in motion, clearly revealing his startled state.

For a moment, I stood there, surprised and caught off guard. But then, a familiar thrill of control and authority washed over me. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat, my voice calm but firm.

“Scott,” I said, my gaze steady yet kind, “we need to talk.”

As Scott followed me back into the office, I felt a thrilling rush of power. There was something undeniably exciting about having found him in such a vulnerable state. His job, his social standing, everything felt precariously balanced on a knife-edge, and I was the one holding the blade.

I opened my office door and settled into my chair, Scott quickly following and anxiously shutting the door behind him. He immediately began apologizing profusely, his voice trembling with embarrassment. I couldn’t help but maintain a small, knowing smile as I watched him squirm.

After a few moments of watching him flounder, I decided to cut through the tension. “What was it you were watching on your phone?” I asked, feigning curiosity.

Scott’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, a sight that was oddly endearing. I pressed further, “I’m genuinely curious about what makes you need to leave so frequently.” I crossed my legs and leaned forward, noting how his eyes darted between my chest and my face.

He seemed even more uncomfortable now. “Your phone is still open to that page, isn’t it? Please, show me.”

“It was just Pornhub... It was nothing...” he stammered.

'Show me!" I commanded, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. He flinched slightly, and the sight of his nervousness only heightened my excitement. I could feel a thrilling heat growing between my legs, the rush of control more exhilarating than I had anticipated. Scott hesitated for a moment before unlocking his phone. On the screen was an Instagram photo of me in a bathing suit.

The guilt and fear on his face were palpable. "That's enough for now," I said calmly. As Scott turned to leave, he paused and, with a hint of dread, asked, "Am I fired?"

"Not at the moment. Just make sure it doesn't happen again," I replied bluntly.

I met up with Rachel, an old friend and another manager, for lunch. We go way back to college, so I knew I could trust her with the bizarre story of what happened with Scott. As I finished telling her about walking in on him, she raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across her face.

"So... are you going to hook up with him?" she teased.

I immediately shook my head, laughing it off. "No, I just want him to get his work done," I said firmly. But as I said it, I could feel something stir inside me, a small thrill at the thought of him so vulnerable.

The rest of the day, I couldn't stop thinking about it. His red face, the way he looked at me... The power I had over him was intoxicating. By the time I got home, I was practically buzzing with excitement. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn't resist anymore.

That night, after tossing the idea around in my head all evening, I felt a rush of boldness. I slipped into my bikini and grabbed my phone, posing for a few more daring shots than usual. The thought of Scott stumbling across them again was thrilling. I posted them to Instagram, imagining his reaction, how flustered he'd be when he saw them.

Later, lying in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about it. The way he'd looked at me, his nervousness, his complete vulnerability. It was intoxicating. As I replayed the scene in my mind, I touched myself, picturing Scott staring at my photos, knowing exactly who held all the control. That thought alone was enough to push me over the edge.

Over the next few days, I found myself toying with the situation more than I expected. When Scott would show up at my office, I’d leave an extra button on my blouse undone, just enough to reveal a bit more cleavage. I could see the way his eyes flicked downward, trying desperately not to stare but failing every time. The power I felt in those moments was addictive.

I started making small adjustments in how I moved around him. If I needed something from a lower drawer, I’d make a show of bending down slowly, knowing his gaze was fixed on me. When I walked past him, I’d let my hand graze the back of his chair or stand just a little too close. It was subtle—enough to drive him crazy without ever crossing the line.

I could feel his tension building each day. He grew more fidgety, more distracted. And then, like clockwork, he’d excuse himself to the bathroom, his face flushed and his voice slightly shaky. At first, it happened once or twice a day. But soon, it became almost predictable. Every time I teased him, I watched him squirm for a few moments before he made his escape.

Each time Scott disappeared, I couldn't help but smirk to myself. I was in complete control, and I loved watching him unravel under the pressure. It became a game for me—how far could I push him before he couldn’t take it anymore? The thrill of seeing him lose control, just from a little extra skin or a fleeting touch, was intoxicating.

And with every bathroom break, I could tell that Scott was slipping further into my grip.

A few days later, I met up with Rachel for drinks. We hadn’t had the chance to catch up in a while, and it felt nice to unwind. The conversation flowed easily between work, life, and the usual gossip. Eventually, I couldn’t help but bring up Scott and the strange dynamic I had developed with him. I didn’t go into all the details, but I shared enough to make it clear that things had gotten… interesting.

Rachel, always the more daring one, smirked as she sipped her drink. “So, are you going to hook up with him or what?” she asked with that mischievous glint in her eye.

I laughed, shaking my head. “No way, we’ve already been over this. I don’t have time for that. Between work and everything else, the last thing I need is an office fling. Plus, the guy spends 30 minutes in the bathroom at a time. Who has time for that? It’s ridiculous,” I added, rolling my eyes for emphasis.

Rachel leaned in, lowering her voice like she was about to share a juicy secret. “Then don’t just hook up with him. Train him.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“If he’s going to keep sneaking off to jerk off at work, put him in a chastity cage,” she said with a casual shrug, as if it were the most natural solution in the world. “Teach him some discipline. You’ll still have all the control, and by the time you’re done, he’ll be begging to do whatever you want.”

I was taken aback by the suggestion, my mind racing. The idea was so far outside what I’d considered. “You’re serious?” I asked, a mix of disbelief and intrigue creeping into my voice.

Rachel grinned. “Dead serious. You’ve already got him wrapped around your finger, and you’re barely trying. Imagine how much more fun it would be if you took full control. Make him wait, make him desperate. It’s not like you don’t already enjoy the power.”

I felt a thrill run through me at her words, something primal awakening that I hadn’t fully acknowledged. I’d been toying with Scott, enjoying the effect I had on him, but I hadn’t allowed myself to think about it in such explicit terms. Now, though… the thought of having him under my thumb, completely at my mercy, made something inside me stir. I couldn't help but picture the possibilities.

I laughed again, but this time it was softer, more contemplative. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

Rachel winked. “You love it.”

The next day of teasing was intense. During our meeting, I decided to ramp up the pressure on Scott even more. As I observed him slipping out of his seat and heading toward the bathroom once again, a sly smile curled on my lips. His frequent exits had become a predictable part of the daily routine, and each time he disappeared, it only heightened my sense of control. I couldn’t resist playing the game further, so I swiftly opened my calendar and sent him a meeting invite marked “Urgent,” knowing full well that he would have no choice but to rush back to my office.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on my door. Scott walked in, his expression a mix of confusion, anxiety, and curiosity. I gestured toward the chair in front of my desk, my tone cool and collected.

"Scott," I began, watching his nervous eyes dart between me and the floor, "we need to talk about these bathroom breaks of yours. I’ve noticed them becoming more frequent, and frankly, it's starting to affect your work." His posture stiffened as he sat down, fidgeting slightly, clearly uncomfortable with where this conversation was headed.

"I want to help you with this... little problem of yours,” I continued, letting my voice soften but still holding the air of control. "But you have to decide if you’re willing to accept my help. Otherwise, these breaks might start leading to bigger problems—for both of us."

Scott’s eyes widened, and I could see the internal struggle play out across his face. After a long pause, he nodded slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just... finished recently,” he confessed, his face flushed with embarrassment.

Standing up slowly, I walked around the desk, circling him like a predator sizing up prey. I stopped just behind his chair, leaning down so my breath brushed the back of his neck. "Close your eyes," I whispered, my voice smooth but commanding. “If you really want my help, Scott, you’ll have to prove just how obedient you can be.”

He swallowed hard, his breathing quickening, but he obeyed. I let the tension hang in the air before I spoke again. "Pull your pants down if you want to be my obedient pet."

There was a moment of hesitation, his hands trembling slightly, but then he complied, lowering his pants. His vulnerability only fueled the surge of power I felt. I retrieved the chastity cage from my desk drawer, carefully fastening it around him, the click of the lock echoing in the quiet room as I secured him in place.

"Open your eyes," I commanded, stepping back to admire the sight of him, trapped and helpless.

When his eyes opened, the mixture of shock and disappointment on his face was delicious. He was beginning to realize the full weight of what had just happened.

I leaned in close to his ear, my voice low and dripping with authority. “From now on, Scott, you belong to me,” I whispered, letting each word hang in the air. “You’ll be my plaything, and you will learn to find pleasure only when I allow it.”

His breath hitched, and I could see the conflict in his eyes—fear mixed with arousal. The sight of him, bound by my control, sent a thrill through me. “Is that understood?” I asked, my tone firm yet teasing, as I straightened up, leaving him no room to resist.

He nodded slowly, barely able to speak, but his compliance was clear. This was only the beginning of his training.

"Now," I said, my voice carrying a hint of commanding authority. "I know you've been indulging yourself with thoughts of my body, selfishly taking pleasure without any regard for me. Your body owes me, and I intend to collect."

I settled into my office chair with a languid grace, crossing my legs provocatively. "We still have about 20 minutes before our meeting ends. Why don't you crawl over here and make yourself useful?" I parted my legs invitingly and crooked a finger, beckoning him closer.

To my delight, he obeyed immediately, dropping to all fours and crawling towards me with eager anticipation. It was as if I had unlocked his deepest fantasy. Without a moment’s hesitation, he reached up, pulling my panties down from my skirt. His tongue flicked out, teasingly circling my clit with a fervor that made me gasp.

I had been so engrossed in work that I hadn’t been touched in far too long. The sudden and intense pleasure made me moan louder than I anticipated, my voice echoing through the office. My legs instinctively curled around his head, drawing him closer as I threaded my fingers through his thick hair.

His tongue danced skillfully around my labia, teasing and exploring with a practiced touch before returning to my clit. Each flick and swirl sent jolts of pleasure through my body, causing me to bite my lip in an attempt to stifle my cries. The tension built rapidly as his relentless attention pushed me closer to the edge.

With each flicker of his tongue, my pleasure mounted, until I could no longer hold back. I felt the wave of my orgasm cresting, overwhelming me. My back arched and I moaned uncontrollably, the intensity of my climax making my entire body shudder. My fingers tightened in his hair as I rode out the waves of pleasure, my breathing ragged and uneven. The release was exquisite, a testament to his skill and my control over him.

I was surprised at how quickly he brought me to the edge. The intense pleasure was something I hadn’t experienced in a while, and I realized with a jolt that Rachel had been right—I needed this more than I’d admitted. As I caught my breath, I retrieved some wipes from my drawer and handed them to him. “Clean yourself up,” I instructed, watching as he did so, his face flushed and eyes a mix of satisfaction and embarrassment. “I’ll make sure to schedule a follow-up meeting on your calendar, Scott,” I added with a knowing smile, already planning the next step in our new dynamic.

Over the next few days, I made it a point to increase the intensity of my teasing towards Scott. Every chance I got, I would subtly remind him of his new reality and the control I held over him. Whether it was through suggestive comments, provocative glances, or intentionally putting him in situations where he felt the heat of my dominance, I was determined to keep him on edge. I wore outfits that accentuated my power, each garment chosen to make him squirm in his seat and imagine the possibilities.

I found subtle ways to highlight his position, like having him run errands or fetch things for me, all while maintaining an air of casual authority. Each encounter was designed to heighten his desire and create a sense of longing. My goal was to make him so intensely focused on his cravings that he would become desperate—desperate for any form of attention or acknowledgment from me. By carefully orchestrating these moments, I aimed to deepen his need and commitment, ensuring that every interaction reminded him of his place and stoked the flames of his submission.

During our first few meetings where Scott was allowed to pleasure me, he became bolder, asking timidly yet persistently, "Can you take off the chastity cage now?"

I met his request with feigned aggression, narrowing my eyes and leaning in close. "Absolutely not," I snapped, my tone sharp and commanding. "Do not ask me again." His expression faltered, a mix of frustration and submission washing over him. "I will let you out when I feel it's correct," I continued, my voice steady, reminding him that every inch of his release was firmly in my control.

Each time he asked, it gave me more satisfaction to deny him. I could feel his desperation growing, the chastity cage serving as a constant reminder of who held the power. His obedience was being tested with every session, and with each denial, I saw him sink deeper into submission. The more he begged, the more I enjoyed keeping him on edge, ensuring he understood that pleasure would only come when I decided he’d earned it.

By the time our sessions progressed, Scott had learned his place well. He no longer asked for release or dared to beg. He understood this was about me—my pleasure, my control. On the eighth day, I decided he might finally be worthy of a reward, but it would be on my terms.

Video Ending: Premature Story (9) - Office Submission.mp4 

(https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qKykg1mvFg93VZPPDG63GMfi-rPazVs6/view?usp=sharing)

He entered my office, his posture betraying an almost desperate eagerness, his eyes fixed on me with a mix of longing and submission. His usual confident demeanor had faded, replaced by a look of vulnerability and need. As the door clicked shut and locked behind him, sealing us in our private domain, I turned to him with a commanding gaze.

“Undress,” I instructed firmly, the authority in my voice unmistakable. “I want you completely naked before me. Every article of clothing should be removed.”

He wasted no time, quickly and methodically peeling off his clothes. The fabric fell to the floor with a soft rustle, each movement a silent testament to his obedience. As he stood before me, exposed and waiting, I took a moment to admire his compliance. The anticipation in the room was palpable, the air thick with expectation.

“Good,” I said, my voice dripping with satisfaction. “Now, come closer and kneel.” I gestured to a spot directly in front of me, the space where he would be entirely at my mercy. “Show me just how well you’re progressing.”

"As you please me today," I said, locking my eyes on him, knowing he hung on every word I spoke, "I'll give you one minute to cum. If you can manage that, perhaps you’ll earn something special."

I didn’t expect him to succeed—eight days of denial should leave him desperate, but not enough to beat the clock. Still, watching him try would be all the entertainment I needed.

Before I released him from his cage, I retrieved a leash from my desk drawer. I snugly fastened it around him, testing its fit by tugging him upward toward me. I gave him a deep, possessive kiss before pushing him back, ensuring he understood his place.

I then pulled out my phone and set a timer for one minute, glancing at the key on my keychain. With deliberate slowness, I teased him by passing the key back and forth between my fingers, finally resting it against my breasts. “Should I let you out now, hmm?” I teased, watching his eyes fill with longing. He surprised me by maintaining his composure, only gazing at me with a desperate plea. “Oh? You’re such a good boy not begging,” I noted, genuinely impressed. “You know you should never beg. I suppose I’ll let you out this time.”

I brought the key slowly down my chest, over my body, and finally to his cage, unlocking it with a satisfying click. He sighed in relief as I removed it.

“Now,” I said, circling him with a commanding presence, “lick my clit and make sure you cum within one minute. Otherwise, you’re done.” I set the timer, holding the leash taut as he eagerly began his task, trembling with the effort of stroking himself.

I tightened the leash, sternly reminding him, “DO NOT SHAKE AROUND. Focus on pleasing me first; you come second.” His movements steadied as he tried to comply. Checking the timer, I saw there were only 23 seconds left.

“You better cum fast,” I moaned, feeling the intensity of the moment. “Not much time left!” He shook more vigorously, prompting me to pull on the leash tighter. “You service me first. Do not shake while you’re servicing me!”

I counted down loudly, “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… LET GO!” I commanded, pulling the leash taut. He was left gasping heavily as I felt his release spurting across my ankles. I laughed, reveling in the control. “Oh, did you ruin it?”

“Yes, Goddess,” he managed to grunt out, his voice a mixture of defeat and reverence.

“Well, maybe you’ll perform better next time. Now, finish me off.” I jolted with pleasure, the rush of dominance and complete control over him becoming overwhelmingly intense.

 After a few moments of savoring the power, I handed him some wipes, allowing him to clean up the evidence of his earlier efforts. The subtle rustling of the wipes and the quiet breaths he took punctuated the charged atmosphere.

I retrieved the chastity cage from my desk drawer and slowly, deliberately, locked him back in, ensuring the device was secure. As I tugged gently on the leash, pulling him closer, our eyes locked in a silent exchange of dominance and submission.

“Continue to impress me,” I purred with a commanding edge in my voice, “and you’ll experience so much more. Your obedience will be rewarded, but remember, it’s my pleasure that guides this game.” His gaze remained fixed on mine, filled with a mixture of yearning and submission, as I basked in the thrill of control.

Good boy, I’ll see you next time.