The executive elevator hummed upward, glass walls revealing the glittering Manhattan skyline at dawn. Alex clutched the collated reports to his chest like a shield, his knees still jelly from last night's "printer maintenance." Every muscle south of his belt ached in a way that made him bite back a whimper with each step. The reports were pristine now—Damian had made him reprint them at 3 a.m. while bent over the desk, tie-gagged, cum dripping down his thighs. *Quality control,* the CEO had called it.
**[Straight-Façade System | Target: Damian Voss | Level 1 → 2 Progress: 15/100 SP]**
**[Perk Active: Silent Orgasm Skill – Muffle 80% of vocal output. Upgrade at 50 SP]**
Tie floated beside Alex's reflection, adjusting a tiny clipboard. "Morning, asset. Sleep is for interns who don't get railed. Today's KPI: survive the board without creaming your slacks."
The elevator dinged at the 47th floor. Doors slid open to reveal Damian leaning against the mahogany railing, suit charcoal today, tie the exact shade of Alex's fresh bruises. No one else in sight—yet. Damian's gaze raked over him, clinical and hungry. "Reed. You're early."
Alex's pulse stuttered. "You said 9 a.m., sir."
Damian's lips twitched—almost a smile. He stepped inside, thumbing the close button. The car lurched upward again, toward the penthouse boardroom. "Reports?"
Alex handed them over. Their fingers brushed; static snapped. Damian's pupils dilated. The doors sealed them in mirrored privacy.
"On your knees," Damian ordered, voice velvet over steel.
Alex dropped before the words finished echoing. The carpet was plush, but his knees still sang hallelujah for the padding. Damian unzipped with one hand, the other fisting Alex's hair. That cock—already hard, flushed angry red—sprang free like it had been waiting all night. A bead of pre-cum pearled at the slit. Alex's mouth watered on reflex.
"Open."
He did. Damian fed him inch by torturous inch, stretching his jaw until tears pricked. The elevator climbed—floor 48, 49—each ding a countdown. Alex hollowed his cheeks, tongue tracing the thick vein underneath. Damian's breath hitched, the only crack in his armour.
"Fuck, yes. Earn that promotion, intern."
Alex's own dick throbbed, trapped in damp briefs. He couldn't touch—Damian had forbidden it last night, a new rule scrawled on the collar contract still cooling in Alex's backpack. *Hands stay busy or stay bound.* So he braced them on Damian's thighs, feeling the muscle flex with every shallow thrust.
Floor 52. The boardroom level. Voices filtered through the crack beneath the doors—early arrivals. Damian's hips snapped faster, using Alex's throat like a sleeve. Saliva slicked his chin; his glasses fogged again. He swallowed around the intrusion, earning a guttural curse.
"Close—swallow every drop or wear it to the meeting."
Alex's eyes watered. He nodded as best he could. Damian's grip tightened, spine bowing as he came—hot, bitter pulses flooding Alex's tongue. Alex gulped greedily, throat working until Damian pulled out with a wet pop. A single strand of cum connected them; Damian wiped it across Alex's lower lip like gloss.
"Good boy." He tucked himself away, straightened the tie. "Stand."
Alex rose on shaky legs. The elevator dinged—floor 53, the private boardroom antechamber. Damian pressed the stop button, trapping them between floors. He spun Alex, yanking down slacks and briefs in one motion. Cool air kissed overheated skin.
"Hands on the rail. Count the floors out loud."
Alex obeyed, gripping the brass bar. Damian's palm cracked across his ass—sharp, perfect sting. "One," Alex gasped.
Another slap. "Two."
By "five," his cock leaked steadily, untouched. Damian traced the welts with a thumb, then slid two fingers into Alex's still-loose hole—still slick from last night's load. Alex's forehead thunked against the mirror.
"Still open for me. Efficient." Damian curled his fingers, nailing the spot that made Alex's vision spark. "You'll sit through this meeting with my cum drying in your ass. If you leak on the leather, you lick it clean."
Alex whimpered—silent, thanks to the perk. The elevator lurched back into motion. Damian withdrew, zipped Alex up, and smoothed his hair like a proud owner. The doors opened to the boardroom.
Twenty executives turned. Victoria Lang sat at Damian's right, legs crossed, red sole flashing. Her eyes narrowed on Alex's swollen lips, the faint handprint blooming on his cheek. "Running late, darling?" she purred to Damian.
"Training the new asset," Damian replied smoothly, guiding Alex to the empty chair beside him—*his* chair, technically the intern's spot was by the door. Whispers rippled. Tie materialised in Alex's peripheral, giving a thumbs-up.
**[SP +35 → Level 2 Achieved! New Perk: Remote Tease – Boss can trigger low-level vibration via phone app. Façade Integrity: 92%.]**
Damian's phone buzzed under the table. He tapped once. A phantom buzz hummed against Alex's prostate—subtle, evil. Alex jolted, biting his tongue. The vibration pulsed in time with Damian's heartbeat, visible on the monitor as he began the quarterly presentation.
Victoria leaned over. "You look flushed, intern. Fever?"
Alex swallowed. "Just… excited about the projections, ma'am."
Damian's voice rolled over the room like thunder. "Page seven, Reed. Read the retention stats."
Alex flipped pages with trembling fingers. The vibe kicked up a notch. He read—voice cracking on "employee satisfaction"—while Damian's foot nudged his under the table, spreading his thighs wider. By the time the meeting wrapped, Alex was sweating through his shirt, cock a steel bar against his zipper.
As executives filed out, Victoria lingered. "Damian, lunch? We need to discuss the gala seating."
"Booked," Damian said. His gaze flicked to Alex. "Reed and I have a private strategy session."
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Of course."
The door shut. Damian locked it. The vibe ramped to high. Alex doubled over the table, gasping silently.
"Strip. Bend over the Voss logo."
Alex scrambled to obey, clothes pooling. The mahogany was cool against his chest, the embossed V under his nipples. Damian circled like a shark.
"Safe word is 'merger.' Use it and you're fired." He produced a slim remote from his pocket—the vibe's twin. "But you won't."
He clicked. The internal buzz became a jackhammer. Alex's hips jerked, pre-cum smearing the table. Damian loosened his tie—*that* tie—and bound Alex's wrists to the far legs, spreading him wide. Then he knelt, tongue tracing the rim still fluttering from the toy.
Alex keened—soundless, perfect. Damian ate him out with surgical precision, tongue fucking in alongside the vibe until Alex was sobbing into the wood. Only when he was a begging, shaking mess did Damian stand, slicking himself with lube from his drawer (*always prepared*).
He entered in one thrust, bottoming out. The vibe pressed between them, trapped against Alex's prostate. Damian fucked him hard—table screeching across the floor, papers flying. Each slap of skin echoed like gunshots.
"Mine," Damian snarled, teeth sinking into Alex's shoulder. "Every intern dreams of this office. You live it."
Alex came untouched, vision blacking, body milking Damian dry. The CEO followed seconds later, flooding him again. They stayed locked, panting.
Tie pinged: **[SP +60 → Level 3 Progress: 10/200. New Perk Unlocked: Desk Drawer Toy Kit – Remote access to plugs, rings, and clamps. Façade Integrity: 89%. Rival Alert: Kyle is entering the copy room footage archive.]**
Damian pulled out, plugging Alex with a jewelled stopper from the drawer. "Wear this to lunch. Victoria's watching."
Alex dressed on autopilot, the plug shifting with every step. As they exited, Kyle brushed past in the hall—eyes lingering too long on Alex's wobbly gait.
Damian's hand settled possessively on the small of Alex's back. "Afternoon schedule: my penthouse. Pack an overnight bag."
Alex's phone buzzed.
**[Overtime Alert: 8 PM – Location: Penthouse Suite. Dress Code: Collar Only. Penalty for Tardiness: Victoria's Invitation to "Observe." Arousal Meter locked at 99%.]**
The elevator doors closed on Damian's smirk. Somewhere below, Victoria's heels clicked like a countdown. And in Alex's ear, Tie whispered: "Next level's live-in, rookie. Better hydrate."
The city blurred past the glass. Alex's reflection stared back—lips bitten, eyes blown, future written in bruises. He was climbing the ladder all right. One loaded glance at a time.