All Chapters of TRANGRESSION: A Collection Of Forbidden Desires : Chapter 41 - Chapter 47

The following Monday the executive floor felt different.Sofia noticed it the moment the service elevator doors opened. The air seemed tighter, as if the building itself was holding its breath. Victoria’s office door stood wide open. The desk lamp was on even though the sky outside still held the last grey light of evening. Sofia’s pulse gave an unwelcome kick. She pushed her cart forward and forced her face into the same blank expression she wore every night.Victoria was on a call when Sofia entered to empty the bin. She did not look up, but her free hand rested on the desk, fingers lightly tapping. Sofia moved quietly, lifting the heavy leather bin, tying the bag, replacing it with a fresh liner. When she bent to set the new bag in place, she felt the weight of Victoria’s gaze settle on the curve of her back and the way the uniform trousers stretched across her ass.She straightened slowly. Victoria’s eyes flicked up to meet hers for half a second—cool, unreadable—then returned to

Sofia’s tongue dragged slowly through Victoria’s soaked folds, tasting salt and heat and the sharp edge of expensive perfume mixed with pure arousal. The vibrator buzzed relentlessly against Victoria’s clit, just above where Sofia’s mouth worked. Every time Sofia sucked or licked, Victoria’s hips jerked and a low, broken sound escaped her throat.“Deeper,” Victoria ordered, voice rough. Her fingers tightened in Sofia’s braid and pulled her harder against her cunt. “Don’t be shy now. You’ve been thinking about this for months. Show me.”Sofia obeyed. She pushed her tongue inside as far as she could, fucking Victoria with it in short, hungry strokes while the vibrator kept its merciless pressure on the swollen clit. The wet sounds filled the office—obscene, rhythmic, filthy. Victoria’s thighs trembled on either side of Sofia’s head. One elegant high heel dug into the carpet; the other had already slipped off.Victoria’s free hand shoved her blouse open completely. Her breasts spilled fr

Claire Bennett sat on the edge of the examination table in Dr. Elias Thorne’s private clinic, fingers twisting the hem of her skirt. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and the clean, expensive cologne the doctor always wore. Afternoon light filtered through the half-closed blinds, striping the pale walls and the polished floor.She was thirty-four, married eight years, and had never once set foot in this particular office until three weeks ago. The first visit had been for a routine check-up. The second for a lingering cough. This third visit was different. She had almost cancelled twice on the drive over.Dr. Thorne closed the door with a soft click and locked it. He was forty-one, tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair going silver at the temples and calm grey eyes that seemed to see more than people intended to show. He wore a white coat over a light blue shirt, and sleeves had already rolled to the elbows. The stethoscope hung around his neck like it belonged there.“Mrs. Benn

Claire arrived twelve minutes early on Monday.She had barely made it through the weekend. The deep, satisfied ache from Thursday’s session had lasted until Saturday evening. By Sunday night the familiar itch had begun creeping back—low, insistent, impossible to ignore. She had touched herself twice in the shower and once in bed after her husband fell asleep. Nothing. Her fingers felt useless. Only the memory of Dr. Thorne’s cock stretching her open brought her anywhere close, and even that left her frustrated and wet.When the receptionist showed her into the private consultation room, Dr. Thorne was already waiting. The door locked behind her with a soft, decisive click.“Clothes off,” he said. “Everything below the waist. Then sit on the edge of the table.”Claire stripped quickly. Her panties were already damp. She sat as instructed, thighs pressed together until he stepped between them and gently pushed her knees apart. He looked at her cunt for a long moment—flushed, swollen, vi