Performance Review
"She's the CEO. He's the junior analyst. She offers him the promotion of a lifetime—in exchange for becoming her personal stress relief. After hours. Under her desk. During meetings."
Victoria Cross calls me into her office at 5:47 PM.
Everyone else has gone home. The executive floor is empty, silent except for the hum of climate control. I walk the long corridor to her corner suite feeling like a man heading to his execution.
I've been at the company for two years. I've never spoken to the CEO directly.
Today, I find out why that's changing.
She's standing at the window when I enter.
Victoria Cross. Fifty-two years old. Built the company from nothing. Worth more than I'll make in ten lifetimes. She's on magazine covers, at industry conferences, in boardrooms making billion-dollar decisions.
She's also the most striking woman I've ever seen.
Five-seven, easily two-sixty, carrying it like armor. Her suits are tailored to accentuate every curve—the swell of her breasts, the sweep of her hips, the power in her thick thighs. Her gray hair is cropped short and elegant. Her eyes are steel.
"Close the door," she says without turning. "Lock it."
I do both.
"Sit."
I sit in the chair facing her desk. She stays at the window.
"Do you know why you're here, Mr. Reeves?"
"No, ma'am."
"I've been watching you." She turns finally. Walks toward me with slow, deliberate steps. "Your performance reviews are excellent. Your productivity is above average. Your discretion is noted."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." She perches on the edge of her desk, directly in front of me. Her skirt rides up, showing powerful thighs in sheer stockings. "I have a proposition for you."
"There's a position opening on the executive team. VP of Operations. It would triple your salary. Guarantee your career."
"That sounds amazing."
"It requires something in return." She leans forward. Her blouse gaps, showing the canyon of her cleavage. "Something... personal."
"Personal?"
"I work eighteen-hour days, Mr. Reeves. I haven't had a vacation in three years. My husband left me when the company took off—couldn't handle not being the center of attention." She smiles, cold and sharp. "I have needs. Needs that are difficult to meet when every man in my life wants something from me."
"What are you asking?"
"I'm asking you to take care of those needs." Her hand lands on my knee. "Discreetly. Professionally. Whenever I require it."
"You want me to..."
"Be my stress relief." Her hand slides higher. "My release valve. My dirty little secret." She finds my cock through my pants. I'm hard—of course I'm hard. "In exchange, you get everything you've ever wanted. Money. Power. Access."
"And if I say no?"
"Then you go back to your cubicle and we never speak of this again." She squeezes. "But you won't say no. I can feel that you won't."
She's right.
I don't say no.
"Good," she says when I nod. "Now. Let's see what I'm working with."
She gestures for me to stand. Unzips my pants herself. Pulls out my cock and examines it like she's reviewing a quarterly report.
"Impressive." She strokes me slowly. "I chose well."
"When do I start?"
"You already have." She releases me. Turns around. Bends over her desk—her massive ass presented, her skirt riding up to show the garters holding her stockings. "The first thing you need to learn is that when I want something, I want it immediately."
She reaches back. Pulls her panties aside.
"Now show me what you can do."
I enter her from behind.
She's wet—soaked, actually—and she takes me with a grunt of satisfaction. Her cunt grips me like she's been waiting for this, her walls clenching around my shaft.
"Yes," she hisses. "That's it. Take what I'm giving you."
I grab her hips—so much flesh, so much power—and start to thrust. Her ass ripples with every impact. The desk shakes. Her moans echo off the windows that overlook the city.
"Harder. I'm not delicate."
I fuck her harder. Slam into her while she grips the edge of her desk, her knuckles white, her voice rising.
"Fuck—right there—don't stop—"
I don't stop. I pound my CEO while the city lights up below us, while her cunt milks me, while she comes with a scream that probably carries to the lobby.
"Inside me," she gasps. "I want to feel it."
I bury myself deep and let go.
Afterward, she straightens her skirt like nothing happened.
"Tomorrow morning, you'll find the promotion offer in your inbox. Accept it by noon." She sits in her chair. "And clear your schedule on Wednesdays. That's when I have the most meetings. I'll need you after."
"After?"
"After I spend all day in rooms full of incompetent men." She smiles. "You'll be my reward. My compensation for putting up with them."
"What about... during?"
Her eyes flash. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... is it always after? Or are there other times you might need..."
She looks at me for a long moment. Then she laughs.
"Oh, I like you, Mr. Reeves. I like you very much." She gestures for me to come around the desk. "Get under there. I have emails to send."
I spend an hour under her desk.
She works while I worship her. Tongue on her clit, fingers inside her, bringing her to the edge and back while she types, takes calls, runs her empire.
"—yes, the quarterly numbers are acceptable—ah—we'll revisit the projection in—fuck—in March—"
She comes three times while negotiating a merger.
When she finally lets me out, my jaw aches and my cock is so hard it hurts.
"You'll learn," she says, "that my needs vary. Sometimes I want to be fucked. Sometimes I want to be serviced. Sometimes I want you waiting, ready, while I decide."
"Whatever you need."
"Good answer." She reaches under the desk. Strokes me. "You can come now. You've earned it."
I come in under a minute.
The New Job
Monday: Meeting with the board. She texts me afterward. I fuck her on the conference table while the chairs are still warm.
Tuesday: Product launch. She's stressed. I eat her in her private bathroom while she grips the marble counter.
Wednesday: All-day summit. By 6 PM, she's desperate. I take her on her desk, then the couch, then against the window while the city watches.
Thursday: Quarterly call. She makes me sit across from her, visible on the video call, while she rides a remote-controlled toy I'm operating from my phone.
Friday: Light day. She bends me over her desk instead. Uses a strap-on while telling me how good I've been.
Six Months Later
I'm the youngest VP in company history.
I have a corner office, a car service, a stock package that makes my parents cry.
I also have a CEO who owns me completely.
"No regrets?" she asks one night, riding me in her penthouse.
"None."
"You could have had a normal career. Normal relationships. A normal life."
"I could have." I grab her hips. Thrust up into her. "But I wanted this."
"And now?"
"Now I want more."
She smiles. Clenches around me.
"Then let's talk about your next performance review."
We do.
I pass with flying colors.