He commanded me to show my dripping pussy under the desk, which I did, just to fulfill his desires.
After a long wait for your response, you deemed my effort decent but insisted I needed punishment for bothering you while you were busy.
I dutifully confessed my misstep, acknowledging my place.
Thank you, Sir. Watching the typing bubbles filled me with tension as I awaited my punishment.
Finally, his instructions arrived: “Send me a video. Spread your juices on your naughty, slutty pussy and thighs. Then take a Sharpie, the bigger one, and insert it inside your disobedient pussy. Use it a little.
You can stop the video after that, but the Sharpie remains until I say so. Understood, slut?”
Reading this made me whimper. How could I sit at my desk, interacting with coworkers, while a Sharpie was inside me? The thought brought intense humiliation, yet I knew I’d be turned on by this shameful discipline.
Gathering my phone, I steadied my trembling hands, following your instructions. Applying my wetness became increasingly difficult to resist.
When it was time for the Sharpie, I couldn’t help but moan and squirm.
“Are you okay?” a coworker asked. Mortified, I said I was stretching.
With several thrusts of the Sharpie, I stopped the video, feeling incredibly humiliated but knowing not to defy your orders.
I sent you the video, all while trying to focus and keep working despite the intense situation.
