You enter my office silently, humbly, in what might be a jarring contrast to your confident and outgoing public persona. I don't even acknowledge your presence, as I continue to talk on the phone.

Without prompting, you begin to calmly and efficiently undress, unbuttoning your silky white top, unzipping your skirt and stepping out of it, leaving you in exquisitely pretty coordinated lingerie, nude stockings and heels.

I feel your need for attention, the almost irresistible pull on my gaze. Almost irresistible; I can't give you the satisfaction, not yet. You know you look incredible. I know you look incredible, but we're not here for compliments and beyond a brief flicker of my eyes in your direction I don't acknowledge your existence.

You take a deep breath, then reach back to unclip your bra, placing it delicately on top of your neat pile of clothes. Your knickers follow immediately, and I have to bite my lip to prevent a smirk when you sniff the gusset before placing them on top.

You hesitate again, wanting to be appreciated, but my instructions were clear and you daren't push my patience too much. You step out of the heels, before putting a foot up on the end of the couch and peeling your stocking down seductively. You slowly stretch it out before laying it gently over the arm of the couch before repeating the process perhaps even more slowly and seductively.

My phone call goes on, but finally I look at you, carefully appraising, letting my eyes wander slowly over every inch of your body. Your cheeks flush slightly, but this unhindered scrutiny from me is a familiar feeling and you've learned to keep still and present your body for my approval.

My face is deliberately impassive, but you know from previous occasions I'm taking in every detail. Every curve, every freckle, every indentation from your clothing, noted and filed in my memory.

I look away, and you take the cue and turn, presenting your back for my similar attention. I watch your back move as you inhale deeply, attempting to judge your mood from the pace of your breath.

Finally my call ends, and there is silence in the room. I can hear your breath, but your body is perfectly still, obedient and patient. I know that your mind is less at peace, eagerly awaiting my instruction, my touch, my adoration.

One word is all you get.

"Couch."

Eagerly you climb on, settling on your knees with your forearms resting on the low back, facing the plain grey wall. Knees a little wider than your hips, back slightly arched. Perfectly presented for my appreciation. Which doesn't come, not yet.

The clock ticks, and my fingers race across the keyboard, tapping out responses to emails that could have waited. All part of the power play, however, knowing that the longer you wait the wetter you will be.

Finally I push my chair back from the desk and walk across the grey carpet tiles. My hand touches your hip first, sliding up the side of your body and then cupping your left breast briefly before a sharp pinch of your nipple, pulling it down. A trembling breath is your only response, and I smile. You're performing perfectly today, my silent office fucktoy.

Next I push my middle finger straight inside your cunt, meeting slight resistance and impressive wetness. I thrust my finger in and out a few times before removing it, bringing the slightest hint of a whimper from you, before loudly sniffing my finger. I watch your asshole tense and relax, wondering briefly if that was a reaction to my sniff or anticipation of what you know is coming next.

I spread a little of your wetness around the tight pucker of your asshole, before putting fingertip pressure in just the right spot. Is that a low moan I hear as my finger disappears inside? If it is, then it's just the faintest hint of one. I smile in satisfaction at your training as I continue to finger fuck your tight hole.

Then my finger is withdrawn, and I feel as much as hear your aching need grow. I trail my hand from the soft sole of your foot, up the curve of your calf, over your arse and along your spine, finally taking a grip of your hair. I notice our breathing is in time, and grin to myself.

The slightest tug in your hair gets an immediate response, and you move with me as I return to my desk, crawling at my knee before kneeling expectantly in front of my chair.

I rest my shoe on your lap and you work out what I want. You resist the urge to hump, and instead quickly unlace and slip my foot out, then remove my sock before neatly folding it inside the shoe. Then the other foot, again with the same conscientious care.

"On your back," I murmur, and you instantly scramble to comply. Your face is looking at the underside of the desk drawers, barely beyond the end of your nose, and your feet stick out from the other side of the desk, red toenails shining in the sun.

I pick up the phone and dial, then my feet rest heavily on your chest, one heel pressed into your sternum with the other ankle crossed over it.

You lie still as my call drags on, but I shift my feet from time to time, enjoying the squish of your breast under the ball of my foot, or the hardness beneath your soft mound when I rest my heel above your clit.

At last the call ends, and I slide open the desk drawer then drop something heavy on your stomach. Your hands grab hold, and immediately recognise the shape, pressing the wand hard against your clit. I slide my foot up to your face, pushing your head to one side as my foot presses against your jaw.

"You may use the wand."

This time there is an actual stifled whimper, and your fingers fidget for the button to switch it on. Immediately your hips roll to meet the wand, and I move my other foot to pin your chest in place and lean forward to whisper down to you.

"I have to make another call. You may not make a noise, but this is your only opportunity to cum."

I actually do have make the call, and try my best to focus on the conversation. Beneath my feet, your breathing grows fast and intermittent as you hold your breath with each escalation in the feeling in your clit.

Soon I feel your whole body tense and vibrating on the floor beneath me, and know your close to orgasm. I push my toe into your mouth, and you suck eagerly. I know the oral stimulation pushes you closer, and in moments I feel the heave in your chest and hear you struggle hard to remain silent.

The tremors that wrack your body are fading by the time I'm done with my call, and you lie still and breathless.

I help you out from under the desk, and guide you back to the couch. You curl up on my lap, and finally we kiss. After a few minutes of reconnecting, you begin to dress, and this time I eagerly watch every movement.

All too soon you're corporately presentable once more, fixing your hair quickly in the mirror. Then you glide over to me, kiss me deeply, slide your hand down to my crotch and whsiper in my ear.

"I love being your fucktoy, even when I've got your cock locked away…"

Then you kiss the key on your necklace and slip it inside your top, give my caged cock a squeeze and wiggle your arse out of the room.