Boss’s Claim (IV)

Ethan barely slept that night. He lay in his small apartment bed, body aching in ways he had never experienced before. Every shift of his hips sent a deep throb through his abused hole, still slick and leaking remnants of Marcus’s cum despite the hurried cleanup he’d attempted before leaving the office. His muscles burned — shoulders from being pinned, ass from the relentless pounding, throat from being used so thoroughly. Bruises in the shape of fingerprints decorated his hips, and dark hickeys marked his neck and shoulders, hidden only by a high-collared shirt the next morning.

He arrived at the office early, moving gingerly, hyper-aware of the sticky warmth still inside him. Every step reminded him of the previous night: the taste of Marcus’s cock, the way he’d been bent over the desk and fucked against the window like a corporate plaything. Shame burned hot in his face as he sat at his desk, wincing when his ass made contact with the chair.

The presentation was scheduled for 10 AM. Marcus’s campaign overhaul. The one Ethan had finished while getting railed.

At 9:45, Marcus summoned him into the office via a curt email. Ethan’s stomach twisted as he walked the familiar path, legs unsteady. The door was already closed when he arrived.

“Lock it,” Marcus said the moment he stepped inside. The older man sat behind his desk in a fresh suit, looking every inch the powerful executive — calm, composed, completely in control. No one would ever guess what he’d done to his young employee the night before.

Ethan locked the door with trembling fingers.

Marcus stood and circled the desk, stopping directly in front of him. He gripped Ethan’s chin firmly, tilting his face up. “How does your ass feel this morning?”

“Sore, sir,” Ethan whispered, cheeks flushing.

“Good.” Marcus’s smirk was dark and satisfied. “I want you feeling me all day. Drop your pants. Bend over the desk.”

“Now? The meeting—”

“I said bend over.” The command left no room for argument. Power imbalance hung heavy in the air. Ethan’s job, his future — everything depended on pleasing this man.

He obeyed, lowering his slacks and underwear just enough to expose his ass, then bent over the same desk from the night before. Marcus ran a possessive hand over the marked skin, spreading his cheeks to inspect the still-puffy hole.

“Still leaking my cum. Perfect.” Marcus unzipped himself, pulled out his thick, already-hard cock, and pushed inside in one smooth, relentless thrust. Ethan bit his lip hard to stifle a cry as the burn reignited.

“Quiet,” Marcus warned, gripping his hips. “The team is right outside. Wouldn’t want them to hear what a desperate slut their coworker is.”

He fucked Ethan with short, deep strokes — efficient, possessive, using him quickly but thoroughly. The wet sounds were muffled by their bodies, but Ethan’s broken whimpers were harder to contain. Marcus reached around and stroked him roughly, bringing him right to the edge before stopping.

“Not yet. You’ll cum when I say.”

The quick, rough fuck lasted only a few intense minutes. Marcus buried himself deep and unloaded another thick load, growling low in his throat as he filled Ethan once more. He pulled out, tucked himself away, and slapped Ethan’s ass hard.

“Pull up your pants. No cleaning. You’ll present with my cum inside you.”

The presentation was torture. Ethan stood at the front of the conference room, voice steady only through sheer willpower, while Marcus sat at the head of the table watching him with dark, knowing eyes. Every shift of weight made the cum shift inside him. He could feel it threatening to leak. His hole clenched around nothing, hypersensitive and full.

Marcus approved the campaign publicly with cool professionalism. Privately, his gaze promised more.

After the meeting, Ethan was called back into the office for “feedback.”

This time, Marcus took his time.

“On your knees again.” The door locked. Marcus sat in his leather chair, legs spread, cock freed. Ethan knelt between them and worshipped the thick shaft — slow, obedient sucking, taking him deep into his throat while Marcus guided his head with one hand and reviewed emails with the other.

“Good boy. Multitasking,” Marcus murmured, occasionally thrusting up lazily. He face-fucked him for a long while, then bent him over the couch for another deep, pounding fuck — slower this time, savoring the way Ethan’s body had already begun to adjust to his size.

“You’re learning fast,” Marcus praised between thrusts, hand wrapped around Ethan’s throat. “This is your new normal. Late nights. Early mornings. My cock whenever I want it. And you’ll thank me for the opportunity.”

Ethan came untouched again, moaning into the leather cushion as Marcus bred him a third time that day.

By the time he was allowed to leave the office that evening, Ethan was wrecked — walking with a slight limp, underwear soaked with fresh cum, mind spinning with humiliation and dark, growing addiction.

Marcus stopped him at the door. “Tonight. 8 PM. My place. My wife is out of town. Don’t be late.”

He pressed a keycard into Ethan’s hand.

The arrangement was deepening. Escape seemed impossible.