Just a short drivel inspired by a conversation I had with a lovely redditor. Enjoy!

Maybe he'd caught on to the way she stared when she thought he wasn't looking, or maybe it was the way her clothes skirted the edge between professional and inappropriate. Regardless of what it was, he seemed confident that she would follow his orders. When she made no moves to do so, he repeated his distressing command, "Spread your legs and touch yourself." He leaned back in his chair and dropped his voice to a warning tone, "I won't tell you again." The words lingered with vague hints of threats yet unspoken.

He hadn't ever overstepped the boundaries of polite decorum before. If he had ever made moves to appreciate her figure, or the clothes she painstakingly picked out in efforts to appeal to him, she had never noticed. It was clear now that he intended to disregard any supposed workplace regulations set forth for him as her boss. His eyes were that of a self-assured man intent to patiently await her submission.

She cast a nervous glance at the door, all too aware of the bustling milieu right outside the frosted glass panes. Perhaps someone had seen her walk into his office and close the door. Perhaps they would wonder why she lingered as the minutes ticked by. All it would take is one whisper and rumors would spread around the office like wildfire. Despite her rising nerves, she moved to comply.

Her fingers trembled in time with the rising patter of her heart as she seized the hem of her fitted pencil skirt. Supple brown skin revealed itself with each tug. One leg came to rest on the seat of the chair next to her as she spread her thighs wide for his gaze. From his vantage point he would clearly see the damped lace that highlighted just how much she craved this.

He made no moves to get up from his chair, or even to reach for his own pants as she assumed he would. Instead he just watched with rapt attention as she followed his orders and pushed her panties to the side.

She spared her exploring fingers the barest of glances before returning her attention to his face. She needed to root herself in him, in the subtle triumphant expression that settled into his features. She hadn't ever truly bared herself before a man. Not like this. It transcended simple nudity. She bared a piece of her that was always tucked away. That part of her that ached to follow, to obey. He could see it just as clearly as he could see the wetness that coated her manicured fingers.

"What are you waiting for?" His voice was a soft whisper, yet each word was a resounding echo in her mind.

She ran her middle finger over her clit, a gentle touch meant to test just how much her frazzled nerves could take. It wasn't as if she had been pent up all day, quite the opposite in fact, yet she found herself jolted by the intensity of the soft touch all the same. Again she rubbed, sending her hips rocking forward as her body moved to chase the pleasure of own touch.

Her senses prickled with the awareness of his gaze as she replaced the fleeting touch with the pad of her fingers. Thoughts of her coworkers faded into the fog of her mind, and she let her lips part with soft gasps. Nothing could ever come close to this moment.

"Don't just rub your clit," He admonished, "Let me see you finger yourself."

It was too easy to comply. Her fingers slid until they found the source of the dampness and she eagerly entered her pussy. He leaned forward at that moment, dropping his mask of composure ever so slightly. Not even the lewd sounds of her frantic fingers sliding in and out of her pussy could prevent her from giving him the show he so clearly wanted. She rubbed at her clit and fingered herself at his simple request. It was as if nothing else existed in that moment, just her aching cunt and his gaze of approval. Her hips jerked forward and she felt herself come undone under his scrutiny.