A Deal with the Devil

A dangerous prank leads to an unfortunate situation, for which is only truly about to begin.

My name’s Laura. I’m 31 years old, happily married to an amazing guy named Paul, and I work in an office for an independent printing company. But right now I feel like I’m in a bad dream that I can’t wake up from… so any advice would be greatly appreciated…

Last Wednesday, Paul played the cruelest of pranks on me. He’d won 2.1 million on the lottery. He even produced an ‘authentic’ ticket which matched the lottery numbers. You can imagine how ecstatic I was, having fallen for it. We had great sex that night, believing our lives were about to change… just not how I had imagined.

The next morning, I got up early and dressed for work as normal. Black bra and panties, a long-sleeved white blouse, a knee-length black pencil skirt, and black low-court heels. I stood in front of the mirror, subtle makeup, long brown hair falling straight down my back, blue eyes sparkling, ready to tell my boss he could shove his job right up his ass.

When I arrived at work, I marched arrogantly into Terry’s office (my 58yr old boss) and let him give me that slow up-and-down look he does for the last time. I’m 5’7” with a curvaceous figure, and 34E heavy up top, though I never show cleavage. That just isn’t me in the workplace. I am astutely professional.

I do like my job, and Terry is a decent boss to be fair to him. He trusts me to run the day-to-day side of things, but it was hardly my aspiration, and he can forget himself sometimes, always allowing his eyes to wander, and his mouth to compliment my appearance. He is tall, balding, and overweight. Not the slightest bit attractive in my eyes.

He says things like:

“That blouse looks very nice on you, today,” while looking at my tits. “Is that an invite?” he chuckles, whenever he catches me bent over with my head inside a cabinet. And when I have a pile of invoices to go through, he jokes about how “stacked” I look behind my desk, while he towers over me.

Well… not anymore.

“Morning, Laura. You’re looking radiant as always. What can I do for you?” he asked, smirking wishfully.

“Nothing, Terry,” I smirked back, even pushing my chest out at him. “I quit, so you can stick your job where the sun doesn’t shine.” I felt rather liberated.

I was being a bit unfair to him, but his face was priceless. I told him exactly what I thought of his wandering eyes, inappropriate comments and sleazy innuendos, then turned around and walked out with my head held high, letting him get one last good look at my rear. The others in the print room looked stunned, but I didn’t care.

I drove home blasting music, singing at the top of my lungs, already planning my next adventure with my husband. But that night, about to tell Paul I’d quit my job, excitement boiling over about becoming millionaires, he very nervously told me it was all a prank.

He knew I’d hit the roof, and I did. I wouldn’t have minded so much if I hadn’t quit my job, especially the way I had done it. A friend of his had played the same prank on his wife. Paul was sincerely apologetic, but I had zoned out, knowing I needed my job back.

Devastated doesn’t even cover it. All those years of steady pay, of knowing I could pay the mortgage… gone after my husband’s dangerous prank… gone in one impulsive moment because I thought we were millionaires. I didn’t tell him I’d quit, and now I had to crawl back to Terry and beg for my job back.

The thought of walking in there, tail between my legs, after everything I’d said… it made me feel physically sick.

I barely slept a wink on Thursday night. By 5:30 a.m on Friday, I was standing in front of the full-length mirror in the hallway, heart ready to explode from all the fear and anxiety that was swirling around inside me.

Needing to appeal to Terry’s sleazy nature, I wore a shorter, tight grey plaid pencil skirt, sheer black stockings, patent black stilettos, and a crisp, white long-sleeved blouse, with the top two buttons undone for a noticeable but still classy cleavage. My hair was down and smooth as normal, but I went a little heavier on the makeup, praying it would help me out.

I slipped out of the house before my husband woke up properly, and arrived at the office before everyone else. Terry was always there by 7am. The drive was as nauseating as the dreary weather, but what other choice did I have? I wasn’t offering him my body, just a much better look at it.

My heels echoed loudly across the empty workshop as I let myself in. The place smelled of ink and paper like always. I walked straight up to Terry’s office at the back, knocked once, and stepped inside before I lost my nerve.

He was sat at his desk with a coffee and the morning paper, when he looked up at me, his eyes widening in real shock.

“Laura?” He set the paper down slowly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I took a shaky breath and closed the door behind me. “I came to apologise,” I said, voice quieter than I wanted. “And… to ask if I can have my job back.”

He leaned back in his chair, saying nothing as his gaze drifted slowly down from my face, lingering openly on my cleavage, then lower over the tight skirt and stockings, before travelling back up again. I could see his throat move as he swallowed. The way he was looking at me made my skin crawl. There was no mistaking the hungry, aroused glint in his eyes.

“To be honest with you… I’m confused. I thought you liked working here. You didn’t even say why you were leaving… and you did say some pretty nasty things to me. That can’t stand.”

I took a deep breath and forced myself to start pleading.

“I know, and I’m truly sorry, Terry. Things haven’t been great at home recently, and I took out on you,” I lied, shifting my weight from one heel to the other.

“Oh, I see,” he replied, nodding.

“I was completely out of line and I regret it. But I know this business better than anyone. I handle the clients, the invoicing, the scheduling and stock. I’m really good at my job. I was angry and stupid, and I’m sorry.”

“So you said already,” he responded. His eyes dropped to my chest as he thought, then they moved down to my legs. He didn’t even try to hide it. I could see him shifting in his chair. The silence stretched uncomfortably.

“Please,” I added, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I need this job. I’ll work extra hours if I have to. Just… give me another chance please, Terry.”

He exhaled slowly, his gaze finally returning to my face, though it kept flicking downward. He looked more than a little aroused, rubbing his chin and casting me a small, satisfied smirk.

“Problems at home, hey? Explains why you’re looking like that to ask for your job back. The thing is, Laura, I have already found your replacement. My niece. She’s been struggling to find stable work since she left uni last year. I can’t go back and tell her no now.”

He let that bombshell hang between us for a few moments while his eyes roamed over me once more, waiting for me to start negotiating. His job wasn’t that precious, but I countered.

“Seen as she’s family, why don’t you reinstate me and I can train her. It’s not like you couldn’t do without the extra help,” I tried to reason with him.

“A moment ago you said you’d work extra hours. I’m not employing two people to do one persons job,” he scoffed at my suggestion. “No, Laura, if you want your job back, you’re going to have to give me something in return.” He sat back in his big leather chair, eyes moving over me lustfully.

“And what would you like in return exactly, Terry?” I asked sarcastically, already knowing the answer.

“Oh, I think you know, Laura,” he chuckled dirtily at my tits. “You’ve never come in here before with that many buttons undone… with a skirt that short… or wearing stockings. But don’t forget… the staff will start arriving in forty minutes,” he grinned.

I could barely breathe as I stood in the middle of Terry’s office. He was right, I had deliberately but naively chosen my attire to try and win him over. I thought looking attractive might make him more forgiving. I never imagined it would lead beyond that. I felt awful.

The shame was already crushing me, but with trembling hands, I reached for the remaining buttons and began to undo them, eyes locked angrily on Terry’s, who sat perfectly still, grinning at me with anticipation.

“Slowly,” he instructed calmly. “And let it drop to the floor.”

One by one, I undid the buttons. The crisp, white blouse parted to reveal more and more of my black lace bra and deep cleavage. I slipped the blouse off my shoulders and down my arms, letting it drop to the floor as ordered. I felt incredibly exposed in just my bra, short, tight skirt, stockings, and heels.

“Exquisite,” he murmured. His breathing deepened as he stared openly. “Tell me, Laura, how big are those beautiful breasts of yours?”

I looked down, mortified. “They’re… a… a 34E,” my voice croaked.

“34E,” he repeated with obvious appreciation. “Me and the guys in the workshop had you down as a DD. Not far off, hey?” he chuckled unashamedly. “Now, take off your bra.”

I hesitated, my face burning with humiliation. I thought about my poor husband, but then unfairly blamed him. The memory of quitting so arrogantly, and the fear of going home without my job, had me reaching round my back for the bra clasp. Terry shifted excitedly in his chair, grabbing his crotch tightly like a pervert.

“Slowly again, Laura. That’s it. Good girl,” he growled under his breath. “Show me how sorry you really are.”

With shaking fingers, I unclasped the bra and slid the straps down my shoulders. I held the garment in front of me for a moment, then removed it and placed it down on the desk. My heavy breasts, full and bare, bounced free, jiggling in front of Terry.

“Oh, Laura,” he gasped.

He stood up then and walked around the desk toward me. My heart hammered wildly. He stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat from his body. Without rushing, he reached up and cupped both of my bare breasts in his large, warm hands, lifting them gently, feeling their weight and softness.

I gasped quietly as his thumbs began to slowly circle my nipples, teasing them until they stiffened and ached under his touch. A rush of unwanted warmth spread through my body. No. I shouldn’t be reacting like this. The gentle dominance in his touch made everything feel even more intense and shameful.

“Mmm… I can see and feel how much you both hate and like this,” he breathed, kneading my soft flesh. “Bend over the desk, pretty Laura.”

I obeyed, leaning forward and placing my palms on the cool wooden surface. I felt him move behind me. His hands found the hem of my short, tight grey plaid skirt, and slowly hiked it up over my wide hips, bunching the fabric around my waist. Cool air brushed against the tops of my sheer lace stockings and thin black lace panties.

“Oh yes,” his voice quivered, as he smoothed one warm hand over the curve of my backside, caressing it slowly, appreciatively, his touch firm yet surprisingly gentle. “You really are an incredibly beautiful woman,” he said, voice thick with desire. “And right now, you’re going to be a very, very good girl for me, aren’t you, Laura?”

I remained bent over his desk, eyes closed, breathing fast, my body trembling with deep conflict, burning shame, and a growing, terrifying arousal that I didn’t want to acknowledge. My breasts were squashed against the surface of his desk, skirt bunched around my waist, but I didn’t resist. I felt I couldn’t.

Derek’s hand smoothed over my backside again, then slid lower. His fingers traced along the lace of my panties before pulling them slowly to one side. I gasped in horror as he stroked a thick finger along my already slippery slit, parting my swollen folds.

“My goodness, Laura,” he murmured. You’re soaking wet back here, darling.”

I squeezed my closed eyes even tighter in shame. No… don’t say that. But my body had royally betrayed me. I was embarrassingly aroused by the situation, not Terry. His finger circled my clit before sliding slow and knuckle deep inside me. A soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. I hated how arousing it felt being controlled.

He worked me gently, probing and curling his finger, telling me how soft and wet my pussy felt, how he could feel me opening up to take something much bigger and thicker. He then dropped to his knees behind me. I felt his warm breath right before his long, slippery tongue replaced his finger.

“Oh fuck!” I gasped, jolting forwards.

“Mmm… you taste delicious first thing in the morning, Laura,” Terry groaned.

He licked me slowly, thoroughly, dragging his tongue from my clit all the way up. When he reached my other hole and began licking there too, circling and teasing, my knees buckled. Shame continued to flood me in waves, but the pleasure was undeniable.

After several long, devastating minutes, Terry stood up. I heard the heavy sound of his breathing, then the unmistakable metallic sound of his zip being lowered. My stomach clenched with panic, yet twisted with desire.

Oh God… he’s really going to do it. I’m going to let him fuck me.

The thick head of his cock pressed against my entrance. He rubbed it up and down my slick folds, teasing me, then pushed forward. I felt every inch as he entered me bare, stretching me open as a long, shaky breath left me.

“Fuck… you feel incredible,” he groaned quietly, sinking deeper until his hips met my buttocks. He stayed there for a moment, buried to the hilt, letting me adjust before he began to move with slow, deep thrusts that made me whimper over his desk.

Terry gripped my hips firmly and kept that rhythm going for a few minutes. I was completely submissive, enjoying the building orgasm. Then one of his hands slid up my back, gathered my long, brown hair, and pulled it firmly, arching my back while his other hand reached underneath and grabbed one of my heavy, swinging breasts.

“I would have never laid a finger on you, Laura… but yes… I am a sleazy bastard in my head,” he grunted. I’ve knocked a few out over you in this office… but my God, I never thought…”

“Stop talking and just fuck me!” I spat.

“Mmm…” he moaned, squeezing and kneading my breast it as he started fucking me harder. Each deep thrust pushed me against his desk like a slut.

I was losing control. Shame, guilt, and raw pleasure mixed together in a dizzying storm. Paul… I’m so sorry… I can’t stop… I suddenly exploded in orgasm, my married pussy clenching around my boss’ fat cock. Disgusting.

Terry’s breathing grew ragged. He then suddenly pulled out, spun me around, and firmly pushed me down onto my knees in front of him. His cock glistened with my wetness, thick and throbbing right in front of my face.

“Open your mouth, Laura,” he demanded, placing a hand on my head.

I parted my freshly painted red lips, smoky blue eyes watery with conflict. He thrusted himself into my face, holding my head still as he gasped and growled, pulsing as he flooded my mouth with his thick, warm salty cum. I stayed on my knees, eyes wide, swallowing in shock as the full weight of what I’d just done crashed over me.

“Oh, Jesus,” he quivered, zipping himself up before helping me to my feet, surprisingly tender. “I want you to go home. You can come back on Monday with a five percent pay rise.”

I had already scrambled for my bra and blouse. “What about your niece?” I asked, just making conversation while I buttoned up my blouse. No cleavage.

“I don’t have a niece. I was going to ring you today and beg you to come back. I can’t run this place without you, Laura,” he chuckled. “I’m sorry, but…”

“Fifteen percent pay rise,” I cut him off, pulling my skirt down. “And this stays between us and never happens again.”

“Ten percent with an extra three days holiday, and you dress exactly like you did today. Short, tight skirts, higher heels, cleavage and stockings showing off that incredible figure of yours.”

“Twelve point five percent and we have a deal,” I bargained, not thinking straight. I just wanted to get out of there and get rid of the taste of him.

“Deal… if you never wear panties. You don’t have to flash me, but I want to know you’re bare underneath at all times while you’re at work. Deal?”

I stared at him, stunned. The thought of walking around the office every day with nothing under my skirt made my stomach drop, but it sparked uncontrollable excitement in me too.

“Deal. No one can know about this… ever… do you understand me, Terry?”

“Of course, Laura,” he smiled, tapping the end of his nose with a finger. “This stays between us.”

“And no more crude comments or childish innuendos,” I said, finally about to leave.”

Terry sat back down in his chair. “Agreed, but just know, if you’re having trouble at home,” he smirked, looking me up and down. “You know where I am,” he ended with a wink.

I left his office in a daze, legs still weak, my panties damp and my mind spinning. As I drove home, the taste of him still lingered in my mouth, all I could think about was Monday, and walking into work with cleavage on display, knowing I was going to be completely exposed under my skirt.

And the worst part? A small, traitorous part of me is excited. At the time of writing this (Sunday) I can’t calm myself down. How on earth am I supposed to go to work on Monday after everything that happened on Friday? God help me…