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Seven

last update Dernière mise à jour: 2025-11-19 00:23:54

The club was loud and annoying. Sweaty bodies swayed under dim lights, drowning in bass, smoke from pipes, and scent. Red and violet strobes painted half-naked limbs in flashes. Moans mixed with laughter. The air smelled like heat and perfume and desperation.

Mark sat in the VIP lounge of The Sanctum, the club which was below Lucas's sex club, completely untouched by it all. His posture was perfect and proper. His expression unreadable. A glass of scotch sat untouched on the table in front of him.

“You look like a man forced into therapy,” Lukas said, sliding in beside him, his grin far too knowing and teasing.

“I came, like I said I would.” Mark replied flatly.

“And I’m proud of you. Growth is good” Lukas said, mockingly raising his glass at him. “Now tell me why you look like you just swallowed a stapler or one has been used on you.”

Mark didn’t respond to his taunts. He was too busy thinking how he should tell him about what was going on.

"What's wrong man, you are actually scaring me. First you call me asking about women and feelings, then you agreed to come for a show and then you actually did come." Lucas said leaning forward.

"It's my secretary." Mark said in a clipped tone.

"Yh you mentioned that you have a new one, what about her." Lucas looked perplexed on why they were talking about a secretary.

"I have been having strange feelings and thoughts when I'm around her." Mark spat out like such words burned him.

Lukas gave him a sidelong glance. “So… is it the girl? Is she that pretty.”

Mark’s eye twitched. “She’s not the problem.”

“Uh-huh. You’re obsessing. I know that look, you are not just curious. You have been completely rattled.” Lukas leaned forward, lowering his voice. “This girl’s making you feel, isn’t she? She's making you feel a whole lot of things.”

Mark’s jaw clenched.

Lukas chuckled. “Let me guess, she's probably a quiet one? Big doe eyes? Walks like she’s afraid to take up space but breathes like she wants to be devoured? And you just can't help but want to be the one who devours her.”

"It's not like that." Mark refused. "I don't want to devour anyone, she just reacts in certain ways near me."

"And you want to push her reactions more. You want to see how far she will go and how much you affect her." Lucas said.

Mark didn’t answer, but that told Lukas everything he needed.

“Alright,” Lukas said, finishing his drink and signaling toward the stage. “Time for a little experiment. One lap dance from one of the hottest girls tonight. You don’t even have to touch. Just watch. Let’s see what stirs, if anything and she has a resemblance to your Doe eyed girl.”

Mark followed him reluctantly and sat on a love couch in front of a pole dancing pod.

The dancer approached, gorgeous, dripping confidence. She slid onto his lap with practiced ease, hips rolling, perfume overwhelming. Her fingers grazed his chest, her lips dangerously close to his ear. Her eyes were big and cute alright but they weren't Teresa's, they didn't have the influx of emotions or the flash or fear and something deeper, something that he wanted to uncover so badly.

Mark didn’t flinch.

But he didn’t react either.

He felt nothing. Not aroused. Not interested. Just… tired. It felt clinical, forced, like watching a scene through a dirty window. Mechanical, loud, very obvious and predictable movement.

He shifted under her, his face tightening with discomfort. The woman noticed but didn’t stop.

He leaned toward Lukas and said lowly, “This is disgusting.”

Then he shoved the woman off his lap rudely, stood up and walked away.

---

By the time he reached his car, Mark was pulsing with something he couldn’t name. Irritation? Guilt? Some grotesque disappointment in his own body? He didn't understand.

As he slid into the back seat, he unlocked his phone and did something impulsive. Something he only did for official usage.

He opened the company’s employee monitoring app and clicked on Teresa's profile.

Teresa’s badge had last been scanned at 9:16 p.m. So she was still at the office. Still inside. All alone.

He didn’t think not that he wanted to . He just told the driver, “Take me to the office. Now.”

******

The building was silent. Only a few security lights buzzed quietly overhead as Mark stepped into the executive hallway. His shoes clicked softly against the polished floor.

He hadn’t planned what he’d say. He wasn’t sure why he even came. Maybe he needed to see her, make sure she wasn’t just another trick of his mind. Maybe he wanted to test her reaction again to fulfill some sick fantasy and feeling that he had.

But then he saw the light beneath his office door. His face scrunched up in irritation at the thought of an unauthorized person being in his personal space. He made to storm inside and confront the person.

And then he heard something that made him stop at the door.

A whimper. A female's, desperate and needy.

Mark froze in place.

The door was slightly ajar and so after some moments of hesitation, he pushed it open, quietly.

And there she was.

Teresa. The demon that had been haunting his thoughts and was now in his office.

She was bent back in his chair, her shirt unbuttoned revealing her creamy breasts that were held in her pink bra, one hand gripping the armrest, the other buried between her legs.

Her skirt lay crumpled on the floor like a fallen flag. Her panties, baby pink, rested on his desk like a forgotten sin.

She hadn’t seen him yet.

He should’ve left once he saw her disheveled look. He should have called security to deal with her.

But he didn’t.

He stood there and watched.

Every breath she took was shaky, urgent. Her hips rocked gently, her eyes fluttered shut, and her lips parted in breathless, needy gasps. A soft moan escaped her throat, and he felt it, like something crawling beneath his skin.

“Mark…”

She whispered it.

He didn’t move.

He couldn’t dare and that moment. A sick sense of satisfaction rose within him.

She unraveled right there, fingers trembling as she came with a shaky gasp, her body curling forward as if the pleasure physically overtook her.

Then, she looked up.

Saw him.

Everything inside her froze.

Her mouth opened, no sound came out. Her chest rose and fell in panic. Her big eyes widened in fear.

Mark didn’t blink.

He just looked at her, then her panties. Then back at her. Still, he said nothing.

Just turned.And walked out.

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  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Thirteen

    After that incident, a decision had solidified in Mark’s mind. He had Teresa transferred to the desk directly outside his office. No reason given, none offered. When she pressed relentless for an answer he gave a bland one. Just a new seat one with a better view and a more direct line of sight. She took the explanation, feeling grateful and pleased that he was concerned about her. It was a strategic move on his part, positioning her within his immediate orbit, a constant presence that he could monitor, observe, and control. The move was a silent declaration of his ownership, an unspoken warning to anyone else who dared to approach.“Sir,” she had said one afternoon, her voice soft, tentative. “Do you want me to schedule the boardroom for your lunch meeting?”“No.” He closed his laptop with a slow, deliberate snap, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of his office. “Cancel it. I don’t like eating with people who bore me.”She blinked, her eyes wide with a flicker of surprise. “Woul

  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Twelve

    Mark had not been able to pinpoint the exact moment it began, this unsettling obsession with Teresa that was corroding his entire being. The constantly staring, the noticing, the almost strategic tracking of her every movement. Perhaps the obsession had truly ignited when he stumbled upon that discreetly recorded footage, and decided to keep a copy for himself, such a private moment where she had dared to moan his name, while her hand was forming a secret caress between her legs, right there in his office chair. Teresa had not merely integrated herself into becoming a part of his meticulously structured routine, she had detonated it. She was the chaos breathing life into his sterile, perfectly aligned systems, and astonishingly, he had allowed it. Worse, he didn't just tolerate this disruption, he revelled in it and wanted more.From behind the shield of his tinted office glass, he watched her. He observed the almost serene precision with which she moved through the office. The prec

  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Eleven

    The glow of the monitors cast long, distorted shadows across the silent office. Mark remained rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the blank screen where Teresa’s image had just been. The act of saving the footage, of preserving that moment of her vulnerability and his own dark fascination, felt both repulsive and inevitable. He was a man defined by control, by the precise orchestration of his life, yet this woman, this fleeting image, had shattered his carefully constructed world.He walked back to his desk, the silence of the office pressing in on him. It was a silence that no longer brought him peace but amplified the clamor within his own mind. The rhythmic tapping of his pen had stopped, replaced by the frantic beating of his heart against his ribs. He thought of Teresa’s eyes, wide with a mixture of terror and something he couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't just fear; there was an undeniable defiance, a raw, untamed spirit that resonated with something dormant within him.He pi

  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Ten

    Mark sat at his desk long after the office had emptied out. The silence was deep and uninterrupted, just the way he preferred it. Or, rather, the way he used to.Now, there was only noise in his head. Constant, static-like noise that kept him awake and distracted all day. He was barely able to manage his work, and that was all because of one person.It had started the moment she stood in the doorway earlier that day, Teresa, with her big, wounded eyes and trembling hands. She had looked like she was about to break in two. He’d seen that look before, in victims, in weakness.But with her, it wasn’t weakness. It was restraint. And restraint… was far more dangerous. He couldn't help but be curious as to why she was restraining herself, why she seemingly lacked self-control in that area.The pen in his hand tapped a slow, methodical rhythm against the mahogany desk, the sound hollow in the cavernous office. His gaze drifted to the locked drawer where her pink panties now lived like a secr

  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Nine

    Teresa stood in the elevator like a criminal that was headed to sentencing. Her hands clutched her bag so tightly her knuckles had turned white, the resignation letter folded and hidden inside.Each floor that ticked upward made her heartbeat louder. By the time the elevator reached her floor at Rexona Industries, she could feel her blouse sticking to her back with sweat. Her heart was racing and had started feeling lightheaded. She didn't eat before she came. Her appetite was very long gone.The second the doors slid open, silence greeted her. Then whispers came in full force.“There she is,” someone murmured behind a raised mug of coffee while gesturing to her.“Did you hear he snapped at four people this morning? Something about a missing file in the office, he looked absolutely furious.”“Yeah, and she’s the only one who had overtime access yesterday. Just saying maybe she misplaced it and is getting others in trouble”"I heard him scream at Melissa asking where she was. She proba

  • The Billionaire's Nympho Secretary    Eight

    Teresa stared at the blinking cursor on her resignation letter. Her fingers hovered, trembling over the keyboard. Just send it, her mind whispered to her. Run away before everything collapses around you. You will be completely humiliated and destroyed, her mind basically screamed at her.But she couldn’t resign. Not yet at least. She didn't know what he would say about what she had done. The gravity of the situation was seriously dawning on her.She stood from her desk in her room, her legs shaky as she made her way to the kitchen, clutching her arms around her chest. The apartment was silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the background sound of the show playing on the television. She couldn’t breathe. Her mouth was dry. Her panties… he still had them.He saw her.Every Single Thing.Her knees buckled slightly and she sank to the kitchen floor with tears streaming down her cheeks like a silent surrender.Mariana walked in a minute later, towel wrapped around her hair

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