billionaire workplace erotica

Reader Advisory: This story is for mature audiences only and features intensely erotic situations, a billionaire alpha male and his young BBW secretary, multiple partners, group sex, exhibitionist themes, the use of potent aphrodisiacs, submissiveness and dominance. All characters are 18 or older.

Sasha’s four years in college were supposed to prepare her for bigger and better things, but working for a man like Elliot Cheever takes all the sting out of being a secretary. He may already be one of the city’s most powerful men at the young age of 34, but he’s so approachable and friendly with his newest employee that she can’t help but sometimes think about more than a work relationship.

Trying to look good for her boss, she’s bought herself a beauty supplement that promises more than just good skin. But when the supplement turns out to have some “additional properties,” new hormones give Sasha the curves she’s always wanted and kick her fantasy of seduction into sudden overdrive.

Before she’s had time to think, she’s flaunting her new attitude and assets through the office in ways that Mr. Cheever and the other partners accustomed to the firm’s stuffy work environment can’t help but notice … and act on. It’s not long before the fertile but inexperienced young woman is getting all the attention she can handle, and more.

Excerpt:

I shifted over to stand in front of the reflective metallic panel that held the floor number keypad and bent down to make sure I looked alright. It must have been the slightly distorted shape of the panel, but the changes I had observed earlier in the morning seemed, if anything, to have increased.

Also , my nipples were poking out very obviously through the thin cloth of my blouse. Good lord, had I looked like that this whole time? My body clenched in delicious embarrassment as I realized after the fact just why my appearance had made such an impression on my new friend John. I had never been dressed so inappropriately in public in my life, let alone in the middle of the financial sector in the middle of a work day.

I rubbed at the offending nipples. Oh God did that feel good, but it did the exact opposite of the desired effect. Between the tightness of the fabric and the prominence of my nipples I sort of looked like a girl in a wet t-shirt contest. I giggled a little, remembering I had once thought about entering one of those back in college but never came close to mustering the courage.

For whatever reason, it didn’t seem to occur to me that looking like that in a nightclub during spring break was a little different from showing up for work as a secretary on the forty-fifth floor. Nothing could lessen my good mood.

I removed the key from my purse that authorized the elevator to go beyond the public floors, and in another thirty seconds I watched the doors open on the familiar lobby that I presided over.

I tiptoed out of the elevator and peeked across at the blind-obscured windows of his office. The light was on. I sighed, accepting my status of comparative incompetence with resignation. He could fly to Washington, speak at a conference, fly home, and be back at work before I could snap a bra on and drive seventeen blocks. Actually, I had only managed half of those things. Who knew why he put up with me?

Notice: This title includes themes and passages that have been adapted from Jessica Whitethread’s Bimbo at Work with full consent of the original author.