The call center’s fluorescent lights buzzed, but Veronica’s world was darkening. Days after her encounter with Simon, the weight of her coerced submission lingered, her body still aching from his rough touch. She’d returned to her desk that night, her black top and jeans clinging to her sweat-slick skin, her breaths heavy, unaware of the video now in Simon’s possession. Her mistake—the data entry error—had been “fixed,” but at a cost she hadn’t fully grasped.
Simon’s eyes followed her during shifts, his smirk a constant reminder of his power. Late one evening, he called her to his cabin, the same space where he’d claimed her. “You thought we were done?” he said, his voice low, predatory. He pulled out his phone, playing the video—her moans, her naked curves bent over his desk, her pussy glistening as he fucked her. “One word to HR, and you’re finished. But I can make this go away… and get you that promotion.”
Veronica’s heart sank, her inexperience no match for his manipulation. “What do you want?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Harry,” Simon said, leaning back, his eyes glinting. “Senior manager. He’s seen this. He wants you. One night, and I’ll delete the video. Plus, a promotion. Say no, and this goes viral.”
Harry, 55, was a leering presence at team meetings, his eyes lingering on young girls like Veronica. The thought of him made her skin crawl, but the video—and her job—left her no choice. “Fine,” she muttered, her stomach churning.
Simon arranged it, sending her to Harry’s upscale apartment after her shift. Veronica arrived, her red dress hugging her curvaceous figure, her round breasts straining against the fabric, her hips swaying with reluctant grace. Harry opened the door, his gray hair thinning, his eyes hungry despite his age. “Come in, sweetheart,” he rasped, his tone dripping with entitlement.
The apartment was lavish, but the air felt heavy, oppressive. Harry wasted no time, his hands grabbing her wrists, pulling her to his bedroom. “Simon showed me everything,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “You’re mine tonight.”
Veronica’s breath hitched, her inexperience amplifying her dread. Harry pushed her onto the bed, his hands tearing at her dress, ripping it down to expose her lacy bra. He unhooked it, her full, untouched breasts spilling free, their soft weight bouncing as he groaned. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered, his mouth descending, licking her breasts with aggressive hunger. His tongue swirled around her nipples, sucking hard, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin, making her gasp in pain and unwanted arousal.
He shoved her thighs apart, yanking her panties off, the fabric scraping her hips. Her pussy, framed by faint hair, glistened despite her fear, her body betraying her. Harry’s face buried between her legs, his tongue attacking her clit, licking with sloppy, abusive intensity. He sucked and bit, his hands gripping her thighs, bruising her as she squirmed, her moans a mix of discomfort and coerced pleasure. Her inexperience made every sensation overwhelming, her body trembling under his assault.
“Get ready,” he growled, standing, his trousers dropping. His cock was hard but less impressive, his age showing in his labored breaths. He climbed over her, thrusting into her pussy with rough, uneven strokes, his weight pinning her down. The bed creaked, her breasts bouncing with each thrust, her pussy tight around him despite her reluctance. “You’re my slut tonight,” he grunted, his hands mauling her breasts, his thrusts growing erratic. He came quickly, spilling inside her, his groans weak but triumphant.
He rolled off, panting, his eyes still hungry. “You want that promotion?” he said, his voice cold. “Come back. As many times as I want.” Veronica’s stomach twisted, her body sore, her mind reeling with humiliation. She dressed, her red dress crumpled, and left, Harry’s laughter echoing behind her.
Simon’s blackmail had tightened its grip, and Veronica knew she was far from free.
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