Chapter 8: Beneath His Desk

Warning: Degrading words and actions will be used/done. Read only if comfortable

SAESHA POV

The office smelled like power. Leather, wood, the faint bite of whiskey, and him. Always him.

I should’ve been nervous walking in here. My father would never forgive me if he knew. But the moment Veeraj’s hand gripped my wrist and yanked me into his world, I knew I wasn’t walking out untouched.

“Strip,” he ordered.

The word hit me like a slap.

I obeyed. My dress pooled at my feet, lace panties following. My skin flushed under his stare. He didn’t soften—he never did. His eyes burned down my body like I was his personal entertainment, like I’d been made just for this.

He pulled a silk tie from the desk drawer, the same one I’d teased him with that first night.

“Hands,” he growled.

I raised them. My pulse thundered. The fabric slid around my wrists, tightening until I had no choice but to surrender. He tugged once to test the hold, and a low sound rumbled from his chest. Approval.

“You like being tied up, Principessa?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“Good. Because you’re going to stay bound while I work.”

Before I could ask, he shoved me down, guiding me to my knees under the desk. My cheek brushed the cool wood. My heart pounded with humiliation and hunger both.

The screen lit above me, his laptop camera already on. A waiting room full of faces blinked into the conference.

Oh, fuck.

“Veeraj—”

“Quiet.” His hand fisted in my hair. “You don’t speak. You don’t move. You don’t come unless I say. You understand?”

My thighs pressed together. Shame soaked me, slick between my legs. I nodded.

The meeting started. His voice switched—smooth, composed, ruthless businessman.

But under the desk, he spread my knees apart.

Two fingers slipped into me without warning. I bit my lip so hard it nearly bled. His thumb brushed my clit lazily, like he was testing how fast he could make me fall apart.

Above me, his voice stayed calm. “Yes, the numbers are consistent with Q3 projections.”

Inside me, his fingers curled.

My breath hitched. I choked on a sound, muffling it against the desk. His grip tightened in my hair, yanking my head back just enough for his mouth to find my ear.

“Don’t you dare make a noise, slut.”

The word made me whimper.

His thumb pressed harder, circling, relentless. My body writhed, my wrists tugging at the tie. The ache built too fast, too sharp. I wanted to scream. I wanted to beg.

Above me, his tone never cracked. “We’ll restructure the contract accordingly.”

But under the desk—my world burned.

“Please,” I mouthed, not daring to let sound slip.

He smirked. I felt it in the way his fingers slowed, dragging torture through my core. Then he pulled them out completely.

I gasped in silence, ruined, aching.

“Edge,” he mouthed down at me, his eyes cruel. “No release.”

The meeting droned on. I stayed bound, dripping, trembling.

And then he pushed his chair back.

“Gentlemen, one moment,” he said smoothly, hitting mute.

His hand fisted my hair again, dragging me forward. His cock, thick and hard, pressed against my lips.

“Open.”

I obeyed instantly. He shoved deep, filling my throat in one brutal thrust that made tears spring to my eyes.

“Choke on it,” he growled, holding me down, making me gag. “Good little cocksucker. That’s what you are while Daddy talks business.”

The filth, the degradation—it lit me up. My pussy clenched around nothing, dripping onto the rug.

He used my mouth ruthlessly, hips snapping, his cock hitting the back of my throat again and again until drool ran down my chin.

Above us, voices talked about contracts and deadlines. But in here, I was nothing but his fucktoy under the desk.

He pulled out with a wet pop, dragging me to my feet. My wrists were still tied, useless.

He bent me over the desk.

The laptop was still open. His colleagues still watching him nod with fake calm. And then—

He pushed inside me in one savage thrust.

I cried out, muffling it against the wood. His hand slapped over my mouth.

“Shut up,” he snarled, pounding into me hard enough that the desk rattled. “You’ll take this cock in silence. You’ll let me fuck you while I sign million-dollar deals.”

Tears burned my eyes. My body convulsed. I couldn’t hold back the moans, not with him splitting me open like this, not with his voice still steady for the call.

“Yes, I’ll review the numbers tonight,” he said calmly. But then his hips snapped, brutal, his cock drilling me so deep I saw stars.

He leaned close, whispering filth into my ear while he played professional for them.

“You’re dripping all over my desk, slut. You love this? Being Daddy’s dirty little fucktoy while he works?”

“Yes,” I sobbed against his palm.

“Say it louder.”

“I love it—”

He growled, driving harder, making the laptop tremble. My climax built viciously, ripping through me without permission. My walls clenched, spasming around him, and I screamed into his hand.

“Fucking whore,” he hissed, rutting through my orgasm, milking me, using me. “Come all over my cock while my partners think I’m working. That’s all you’re good for.”

He pulled out just long enough to flip me onto my back across the desk. Papers scattered, the laptop tilting dangerously.

He rammed back inside me, pounding, sweat dripping from his jaw. His voice cracked finally, raw. “Mine. This pussy’s mine. Say it!”

“Yours!” I screamed. “Always yours!”

He slammed deep one last time, groaning my name, spilling inside me until I felt the heat flood through.

The meeting was still running. His breath heaved. His cock stayed buried in me while he leaned forward, hit the unmute button, and said smoothly:

“Apologies for the interruption. Where were we?”

My body shook beneath him, wrecked, humiliated, and more alive than ever.

Because I loved it.

End of Chapter 8