Tom sat at his desk staring at his boss's door with loathing. Just a few minutes earlier she'd dressed him down, with her door open so the whole office could hear. And that wasn't the first time. In fact, it seemed that the only time she left her door open was when she was disciplining someone. She believed in making an example of people. He read her name off the brass nameplate on her door: Dawn McKinley. It was such a deceptively pleasant name for such an unpleasant woman. Dawn McKinley bought a nursery school teacher to mind, or maybe even the hot girl you had a crush on in school, not a ball-breaking witch.
Part of the reason Tom loathed her so much was that he did have a crush on her, in a manner. It wasn't like he wanted to date her or romance her. No, he just wanted to fuck her and fuck her hard. He wanted to have angry, violent sex with her. He wanted to reduce her to a quivering, begging, dripping mess. The fantasy of reducing his powerful boss to a sex object made him hard every time he thought of it, which was at least a couple times a day. He just could not deny it, bitch or not, Dawn McKinley was just drop dead sexy.
Dawn was in her mid-forties, an inch or two over five and a half feet, with enough dangerous curves built into that body to tempt any man. She did not dress to flaunt it, but she usually wore expensive tailored suits that did not hide her shape either. Some of the guys in the office were sure her tits were fake, but Tom had given it extensive thought and was convinced her chest was real, though it was hard to tell for sure in those jackets she always wore. Her blonde hair was cut in a sleek bob that reached an inch or two past her shoulders, and her cold blue eyes were like sapphires set in her creamy skin. Tom was pretty positive she got Botox, but she looked great, so he was not about to complain. More than once he'd thought she probably had a nice smile, if she ever used it.
Tom knew very little about her life outside of the office since she rarely spoke to her subordinates about her personal life. He saw her husband, a fit and handsome lawyer, at the office Christmas party every year and he knew she had a couple teenage kids, because their pictures were on her desk. Either she was a demon in bed, or her husband was the most easygoing man on the planet, but Tom could not imagine what living with a witch like that would be like.
It was almost four years since Tom's last serious relationship, so he did not know much about what it would be like to live with any woman. He wasn't a bad looking guy, but he was shy and found that once he was in his early thirties it became much harder to meet women. But being single wasn't so bad. He could do what he wanted, when he wanted to and he had plenty of material in his spank bank.
Tom turned to his computer and got back to work. He was on thin ice already. The last thing he needed was for Dawn to come out and catch him staring into space. Beside the keyboard was a copy of the written warning she made him sign with a trembling hand. One more screw-up and he was out on his ass. That's what she said. What a bitch, he thought. If only there was a way to get her under his thumb. Not only would his job be safe, but then he could make her do anything he wanted.
Later that evening, Tom was sitting in his local watering hole and bitching about his boss to his best friend. He was several beers in and the more he drank the angrier and more graphic he got. Barry, his friend, kept nodding and egging him on.
"You're just mad because you want to bang her," Barry said.
"No, I'm mad because she's a bitch. The fact that I want to bang her is totally separate. I bet she's boring as hell in bed anyway."
"Maybe. She sounds pretty uptight."
"If I had something she wanted I bet I could fuck her. I bet that's how she climbed up the company ladder," Tom said ruefully before draining his beer.
"So find something she wants," Barry chuckled.
Tom would have loved that, but he knew he had nothing Dawn McKinley wanted. Actually, it seemed like she did not want for anything in her life, which just made him angrier. He was also pissed because he thought he deserved a charmed life just as much as she did. He knew he could do her job just as well as she could. He was sure she got to her position on her back.
"Maybe I should slip her a mickey," he said.
"You'd have to get her out to have a drink with you first," Barry laughed.
"I could hypnotize her." Tom was having fun thinking of outlandish ways to get his boss under his control.
"You know, I've heard about this thing, it's some sort of technology thing that can get a chick to do anything you want. And I mean ANYTHING."
"Really? What is it?"
"I don't really know, I just heard you work her with a remote control, like a robot. You just turn a dial or something and she gets super horny. She can't even control herself."
"Where do you get it?"
"Dude, I don't know. I bet it's just an urban legend. How could something like that really exist? That's like CIA shit. If we had that they would be using it to take over terrorists, not bang chicks."
"You never know. Never underestimate what lengths a guy will go to get laid."
"Would you really do it if it was real? It's a little creepy. I would love to fuck Jessica Alba, but I don't know if I would hypnotize her to do it," Barry said.
"It doesn't matter," Tom dodged. "You're probably right, something like that couldn't exist."
Tom said that at the bar, but as soon as he got home he jumped right on the internet and started looking for some kind of lead on the device his friend was talking about. If it was true, this thing was like the grail. He could use it to get everything he wanted. There was not even a second's thought about the ethics of using a device like that. He felt entitled because of the years of crap he'd taken from her.
The internet was rife with pills and powders and elixirs that claimed to be the modern Spanish fly. Promises like "make her ready anytime, anywhere" popped up regularly, but he was smart enough to see through those ridiculous come-ons. When he went looking for devices all he found were every kind of sex toy imaginable. Some of them looked really cool and he wished he had someone to try them with. Maybe once Dawn was his he would make her use them. The pink of dawn was edging the sky when he finally thought he found a lead.
Embedded deep on a message board he found a reference to something a man claimed he used to tame his wife. He said that after fifteen years of marriage she'd become a total load and they never had sex. He claimed he found this treatment that turned his wife into his willing slave without her ever realizing it and that his marriage had been perfect ever since. The posting was over a year old and Tom couldn't find anything else from that poster, but by search for several key words in the posting and then following up on other leads he finally found something called the Compotis Corporation. There was no website for the company or any sort of public records he could find. The only thing his hours of research yielded was an email address. He fired off a quick email and went to grab a nap before he had to be in work.
Tom was late, after staying up all night and hoped he could sneak to his desk without being noticed. As he was logging in to the network, he heard that voice that raised he hair on the back of his neck.
"Tom, get in here," she called from her office.
Head hanging low, he shuffled through her door and stood across the desk from her. She did not even bother to stand.
"What time are you supposed to be here?" Dawn asked in a tone that suggested she was speaking to a child.
"Eight-thirty," Tom mumbled.
"And yet there was no one at your desk at eight-thirty this morning. What am I going to do with you, Tom?" She sighed in exasperation.
"I don't know."
"What was that? Speak up. And look at me when I talk to you," she said.
He could imagine her husband's cock shriveling when she spoke to him in that tone. Tom looked up from his shoes and into her icy blue eyes. She was looking up at him from under her perfectly straight bangs. He fought to keep his gaze focused there, instead of letting his eyes wander down to where her bust filled the gray, fitted jacket. He looked at those inches of creamy, freckled skin exposed just below her neck and wondered what she was wearing under her suit jacket. Just a bra? Maybe a camisole. He could see enough to know that she was not wearing a blouse under it.
"Tom," she snapped, refocusing his attention. "I don't want to have to fire you, but you're going to force my hand. What do I have to do to make you behave like a responsible adult?"
"I don't know," he mumbled again. She raised her voice and he knew everyone in their office could hear her.
"I said, I don't know. I forgot to set my alarm."
"Maybe I should call you in the morning to make sure you get up. Do I have to get you out of bed like I do with my kids for school? Do I need to shake you awake?"
He could just imagine her coming into his bedroom and reaching out to shake him awake. He would grab her wrist and pull her down onto his bed E
He looked up at her, startled.
"Just get out of my office and get your ass here on time in the morning. Okay? I like you. I don't want to fire you."
Properly chastened, Tom retreated from her office and went back to his cubicle. He checked his email, but there was nothing back from the mysterious Compotis Corporation.
Tom checked his email more than a dozen times that day, but the message he sought never arrived. Five o'clock came and he stayed at his desk to make up the lost time because Dawn was still in her office. She was usually there before everyone else in the morning and still working when everyone else went home. He imagined her whipped husband was forced to make dinner and take care of the house. Either that or he was relieved that she was always working and not around to harangue him. When he finished serving his time, he shut everything down and slipped out of the office without saying goodnight to Dawn.
When he got home, Tom masturbated furiously to the fantasy of Dawn coming into the bedroom in her nightgown to wake him in the morning. He would grab her wrist and pull her down, quickly climbing on top of her. In his fantasy, she struggled fiercely, pummeling his chest until he pinned her wrists to the mattress. Her long, thin cotton nightgown rode up around her waist as she struggled and when he forced himself between her legs his cock slipped right inside her. She screamed at him and called him every name in the book, but as he started fucking her Dawn's complaints turned into moans and she wrapped her legs around his back and begged, "Fuck me! Fuck me, Tom!" He shot his load into a waiting tissue not long after that.