Breaking into the I.M.P. office is easier than you thought it would be. The entry of the building is unlocked, there’s not a key required for the elevator, and with just the slightest twist of the knob, the front door of the office opens with a creak. You glance over your shoulder to make sure you’re not being followed and dare a laugh of satisfaction when there’s no one in sight.
All the lights are off, but it’s easy to find your way to the inner office. When that’s not locked either, you pump your fist in celebration. This mission will be even easier than you thought it would be.
The guy who hired you said this would be hard, and the several days you spent staking out from across the street getting to know the comings and goings of I.M.P.’s four employees confirmed that. Someone always seemed to be there, whether it was Blitzø showing up three hours early to filter through magazines to find the right pictures for his weekly mood board or Moxxie returning two hours after they’d gone home for the day to retrieve the wallet he forgot.
But what reason would any of I.M.P.’s employees have for arriving an hour past midnight? It was just too perfect. This is why they asked you for the job. You do your homework, pay attention, and you always get the job done right.
Once you open the door, your smile falls.
The soles of combat boots greet you from the desk. Over the scuffed boots, you can see Millie smirking from where she sits in her boss’s chair like the desk is hers. She uncrosses her arms and grabs something off the table. Behind you, the door falls closed with a loud thud and the audible click of an automatic lock. A shiver creeps up your spine.
Maybe this mission won’t be so simple after all.
“Well, well,” Millie says, sounding more amused than surprised. She takes her time rounding the desk, her full outfit revealed as one not unlike her normal attire in style and cut, but entirely leather. “You really thought you could just walk right in the front door, didn’t you?” There’s a mocking tone to her voice that makes your face flood with heat. You turn around to leave, but the door that you just walked through is now locked from the outside.
By the time you turn around again, Millie is toying with whatever it was she picked up off the desk, then smacking it against her palm. In the dark office, the only light is streaming in through the window from neighboring buildings, casting eerie shadows across the room.
“W-what are you doing?” You ask, giving your best attempt at a threatening tone, but your fear is seeping through. As she steps closer, the sound of her hooves audible on the wood floor with each step she takes. With every inch she moves toward you, you move a step back. More quickly than you would have liked, your back hits the door.
After that, everything moves quickly.
Millie slips her foot behind your calf, knocking you down, where you hit the floor. Your head goes back, hitting the door hard. Before you even have time to process the way your ass stings from the fall, everything goes black.
—
Your head aches when you wake up. Whether it’s minutes or hours later, you’re not sure. You’re still sitting, but you’re no longer lax against the door. You try to stand up from the chair you’ve been moved to, but ropes dig into your ankles, calves, thighs, and wrists. When you look down, you see that you’re bound to the very office chair Millie was sitting in when you entered.
“Mornin’, Sleepy Head,” Millie sing-songs, pushing herself off the desk where she was leaning waiting for you to wake up. “Not sure who sent you, but I don’t think they were very smart,” she says, smiling as she holds the object in her hands up for you to see. Your knife.
“Give that back!” You say, straining against the ropes, but you can’t pull yourself free. “It’s mine!” This time, she moves across the room so quickly that you don’t see her, and the next thing you know, your knife is pressed against your pulsepoint.
“Well maybe you shoulda thought of that before you broke into my boss’s office,” she says through grit teeth. “Or is your brain as small as your dick and you thought you could avoid a fight.”
Whatever blood was in your face rushes out and a shiver climbs your spine. When they said no one would get hurt, you were happy to hear it. The easier the better, when it comes to jobs like these. You really did try to take the coward’s way out, didn’t you?
“What do you want from me?” You hiss in reply, the fear of the situation setting in for the first time. You’re trapped here, with a knife to your throat, and terror sets in. The possibility of death is very real.
Millie’s claws scrape over your stomach, ripping the fabric from your abdomen. Your breathing picks up, your chest rising and falling with each gasp for air. You scream as Millie presses down with four of her claws until they pierce the skin.
“Cry all you want, but it ain’t gonna help,” Millie says, bringing the knife to your skin. The four claw marks look like tallies and she marks off the fifth with a slow, deep cut of the blade through the middle of the shaky tears. “This’ll teach you better than to break in after hours.” She brings the blade to her face, dragging her tongue along the blood drawn from your skin. “If you want somethin’, you’d better be ready for a fight next time.”
You hope to whatever higher being is listening that she’s stop there, but she brings the knife down to your lap. Your eyes widen as you see that she’s bringing the blade to your pants, trying with all your strength to break free of the binds. You do feel something loosen, but it’s the waistband of your jeans. Millie catches the button that popped off, flicking it onto the desk to save for later.
“Now then… where were we?” Millie asks, pushing the knife between her teeth to hold it as she uses her hands to drag the zipper down, pushing the fabric aside. As humiliating as it is, you’re already hard. Your co*ck fights against the denim, twitching up into the stale office air. You can’t even look at her. Even your ears are burning with humiliation. Then, she scoffs.
“Really?” Millie asks. At some point she took the knife out from between her teeth, because now she’s lifting your co*ck with the dull end of the blade. You tremble at the feeling of cold, sharp metal that close to your sensitive co*ck, but also from the arousal of Millie looking at you. “You’re even smaller than my husband.” The knife hits the desk and you watch it spin a few times before landing on an open notebook. “It’s a good thing he’s out on a mission tonight. Otherwise, I’d leave ya here to struggle.”
Next thing you know, Millie’s warm hands wrap around your co*ck. The heat feels so good in contrast to the cool air blowing in from the window unit. Your head lifts up at the sound of another zipper. This time, it’s Millie’s. You watch as her hand drags impossibly low before you realize her zipper goes all the way to the back.
“Be a good boy,” Millie said, straddling your lap. You can feel her thick public hair dragging across your co*ck until the tip slides across something wet. f*ck, she’s so wet for you. Her hands hook under the ropes binding your upper arms, leveraging her weight to grind on your co*ck. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she laughed dryly. “You don’t have another choice.”
She sinks down on your co*ck, and it doesn’t feel small as it pushes inside, engulfed in her soft, hot c*nt. Your face grows hot with shame from the pathetic whimper you utter. Unfortunately, Millie likes that, you can tell by the way her puss* pulses greedily around your co*ck.
“f*ck, for such an itty bitty thing, you aren’t half bad at being a little f*ck toy,” Millie taunts. She’s pulling back fast, dropping down hard, then grinding forward to press her cl*t into your pelvis. “Almost hope you break in again.”
Her puss* tightens around your co*ck, her moans getting louder as the friction between your bodies grows. You can feel your own org*sm creeping up. Millie is pressing into the cuts she left on your stomach. Even though you know you shouldn’t be enjoying this, it feels too good. You’re so close that just a few more thrusts could get you there. So close.
And then, everything stops.
Millie sinks down on your co*ck a final time and cries out. Her org*sm pulses through her and she makes a satisfied hum before pulling off.
Again, your co*ck is victim of the icy chill of the air conditioner.
Millie picks your knife up off the desktop, slicing through the rope wrapped around you like it’s ribbon and leaving a long cut along your skin so you don’t forget that she let you walk away from this.
“Now…” Millie growls, opening the office door. You can barely stand up with how hard you are, but you try your best to tuck yourself away. Her scowl morphs to a smile as she props the door open with one foot. “Get the f*ck out.”
