“Can you count them for me?” he asked. Kate looked up from her notes; the meeting was nearly at an end, and the other colleagues had already filtered out of the room. She had a full schedule ahead of her, and was in no mood to play some silly games with the new colleague who thought he was a big shot.
She followed his eyes. He was staring at her legs, covered by white stockings with black polka dots sprinkled across. “Can you count them?”
Anger rose up, a righteous indigniation she had no intention of suppressing. HR would boot him off in no time if they heard about-
“There are quite a lot of them, and it’s quite relaxing to try and count them,” he said, and she actually saw his eyes making tiny jumps, moving from dot to dot. The tone in his voice gave her pause, it was even, low, and she almost had to strain her ears to make them out against the background buzz of the office outside of the meeting room. “One, two, three,” he said, and then he mouthed the rest of the numbers.
“What are you-” He held up a finger, a single finger, and Kate was surprised to find herself stopping her tracks. Not just that the words had gotten stuck in her throat, but she found herself without the strength to get up and simply leave.
“Just try it. I’ve seen your schedule, it’s close to bursting and let’s be honest, prolonging this meeting is a good enough excuse to get some relaxation, don’t you think?”
Was he joking? She searched his face for the punchline but then he stared up at her, for the first time, and his eyes met hers. She was his prey. The intensity in his eyes screamed at her to run, to get up, throw her notes at him to make a getaway and yet… she was rooted to the chair. Her muscles refusing any attempt to move, her words still not coming out at all. He rolled closer with his chair, until the wheels of his bumped into hers, and she could smell him, really smell him in a way she had never smelt anyone before. There was a tone to his smell just as there was one to his voice, something calming, relaxing, something that was quite disarming and charming and-
Kate recoiled at her own thoughts. This man was coming on way too strong to her, at the workplace, despite the ring on her finger, and she mustered her strength again to get up, to-
“One,” he said, and poked her stockings at a random polka dot, his fingertip lingering on the spot. She stayed still in the chair, her eyes not moving away from his, seeing his hand lift up and move in her periphereal vision. “Two,” he said, and found the next spot. There was a fleck of red in his eyes that seemed entirely unnatural, and a sharpnes to his words, something swinging along with the soothing tones of his voice and smell that made her feel like he was about to pounce.
“Three,” he said, and she gasped, for reasons she didn’t understand. He was so close now, leaning closer, his smell growing stronger with every breath. “In, and out,” he said, his words distant. “In.” His other hand began to run up the side of her chair, until his fingertips were stroking up her sides, up her neck, tracing her earlobe, and back to her neck again. “Out,” he said, and her breathing flattened, complied with the rhythm he was suggesting.
“Good,” he said, and smiled without showing his teeth. His hand was on her neck now, coaxing her movements. “Four,” he said, and his other hand found another polka dot, and for some reason a wave of warmth crept up from his touch, rolled up her lower body, up her spine until it hit the heat on her neck, the heat from his other touch. The waves bounced off each other, back and forth, just like she was taking deep, audible breaths in. In. And out. Relaxing. Calming. Empty. And docile.
The thoughts weren’t her own, she realized with a start, but she couldn’t look away from his eyes. Couldn’t move, not with his hand on her neck, softly caressing her, not with his fingers tracing the polka dots, not with his smell so strong in her nose, in her head. She felt dizzy, the heat only adding to the feeling, the haze slowly turning stronger. “Five,” he said, and his finger moved to a dot on her inner thigh. She spread her legs for him, with no resistance from her whatsoever. She spread her legs and gave a silent moan while his finger settled on the dot, the heat surging into her pussy. “Such a good girl,” he whispered, his voice directly in her head. She felt something sharp scratch against the skin of her neck, again, and again, before withdrawing. “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and heavy with lust.
She tried to get another look at him, but her eyes weren’t seeing anymore. Glazed over, she saw rough shapes at best, but the sharp teeth of his stood out. She had been warned against vampires, of course, they had all gotten the self-defence training, but nothing had prepared her for this. Nothing had prepared her for the slow, audible breaths in, the relaxation, the arousal sweeping through her body. Breathing out, and she felt so blissfully empty. Docile. And weak. Prey for him to do with as he pleased.
She spread her legs further, already anticipating what happened next. “Six,” and his hand caressed her inner thigh, finding another polka dot further up, the heat of his touch so close to her pussy that she instinctively tried to edge forward in her seat. He held her in place, and smiled, showing his teeth this time. She came at seven, his finger nowhere near her pussy, and yet every touch felt like it was closing in, inches away from her clit. She came in his arms, moaning into his shirt while he patted her back and let her inhale his scent in full. By the time she came to, she remembered none of it, and was alone in the conference room.
The next time Kate wore the polka-dotted stockings…
She was on her lunch break, in a small cafe close to her workplace. It wasn’t unheard of to meet colleagues here, but that the newest one would enter just a few moments after she had sat down, and then confidently steer towards her table like he was invited… she didn’t look up from her book. Not even when he sat down right next to her on the bench, rather than the chair in front of her. Not even when he started talking to himself. He was being rude, and annoying, and she was just waiting for a chance to get something on him to pass on to HR and-
She took a deep breath in, and for a moment lost her train of thought. Right. Report him, and then-
She breathed out, and the thought was gone again, replaced by the realization that he was counting.
“Five,” he said, and when she glanced sideways and followed his eyes, he was staring at her legs.
“Excuse me,” she said, but the rest of her words stuck in her throat. She had meant to sound angry, abrasive, maybe, and instead her voice had been so small, so… weak.
He didn’t stop looking at her legs. “Six,” he said instead, and out of reflex Kate tried to pull her dress down a little more, even though it couldn’t possibly cover any more. He took her hand away from the hem of the dress and placed it at her side, keeping his hands closed around hers. It felt warm, familiar, and not at all uncomfortable, even though she should have been furious, should have been-
“What are you doing?” she finally managed to burst out, one, embarassing queaky burst of her voice.
He looked up at her, and his eyes caught hers, and wouldn’t let go. She felt his hand on hers acutely, aware of his blood pumping through his fingers all of a sudden, of how close he was sitting, his scent, clinging to the air, every time she took a deep, audible breath in, and out again… she was aware that she couldn’t get up anymore. “I’m counting the polka dots, of course. It’s very relaxing.”
It sounded like the worst excuse to harass her that she’d ever heard. It sounded so-
“Eight,” he said, and turned towards her, placing his fingertip on one of the dots on her leg. The touch sent a shiver up her spine, forced her to close her eyes for just a second, and lean back against the bench. The stress of the day fell of her. The stress of what was to come fell off her. All that counted, right now, was to take deep, audible breaths in, and to relax. To calm down. To breathe out again, and feel the blissful emptiness take hold. “Relaxing, isn’t it?” he said, his voice a soft, slow and measured tone so soothing she barely heard it.
“Yess. Relaxingg,” she said. breathing in a steady, slow rhythm.
“Relaxing,” he said, and moved his hand further up her stockings. “Nine.”
She suppressed the gasp. The cafe was crowded, and she was losing control. She was letting him touch her, control her, force her into submission…
“Ten,” he said, and his finger was on the dot closest to her pussy. Her body was shuddering, his breath hitting her neck now, just before he was kissing her, teeth scratching softly. The moment lasted but a heartbeat, nothing that would be noticed by the other guests, but it forced her body into overdrive. “Cum for me,” he whispered, and she could do nothing but obey. To give in. To surrender.
By the time she came to, she had to hurry to pack her book away and leave. She felt refreshed, somehow, even more so than usual when she visited the cafe, and left a larger tip than normal. Something in the coffee, maybe.
The next time Kate wore the polka-dotted stockings…
“Very nice stockings,” he said. Kate started up in her chair; she hadn’t heard him approaching. For a second she felt like she should admonish him for remarking on her appearance out of the blue, but then his hand settled on her right shoulder, and the tip of his thumb began softly rubbing up and down against her neck. Now she should really tell him off, she thought, but even while her mind was churning through the motion of turning idea into speech, the process slowed down somewhere in between, somewhere in the middle it all just fell apart, slowing down so badly that the thought ended up dropping altogether. It dropped deep enough to stop bothering her, and then the next thought followed, and the next. She craned her neck for him, and he rolled her office chair towards one of the sofas reserved for customers. The rest of the office was out for lunch. Kate had only wanted to finish this one E-Mail before… before…
He had put her legs up on his, her feet resting in his lap. “Very nice stockings,” he said again, taking off her shoes one by one. “Thank you,” she said, slightly out of breath. Doubts came back to her, doubts why she was letting him talk to her like this, why she let him-
His fingers began rubbing her soles, and she groaned, and leaned back in her chair. She was dimly aware of his voice, of his words and how they kept coming, but it felt like so much effort to actually listen. So much effort to think about what he was saying, and so she just nodded, nodded along while hoping his sentence would never end so that he’d never stop massaging her feet. His thumbs kept rubbing up and down, up, and down, and her breathing changed in rhythm, synchronized with his massage. Up, and she took a deep, audible breath in, up, and she relaxed, she calmed down. His thumbs slowly moved down, with just the right pressure, taking away the stress of the day, the pain of the walking in heels. Down, and she breathed out, feeling the warm haze settle on her mind, wrapping around her and helping her empty out her mind.
“So easy to relax,” he was saying, and some of his words pierced the fog now and then. “Easy to drop to my voice.” She nodded, not knowing what he had said before, or what came after. She nodded, and a surge of warmth spiraled down her body, spread into every corner. His thumbs moved up, and she took a deep breath in, relaxed some more, and down, down and she breathed out, out and her mind was empty, and docile.
Docile. The word rung an alarm bell, briefly, for a moment her eyes opened and she saw him, sitting here, her feet in his lap, his smile so confidet, his eyes staring directly into hers. He shuffled forward a little, just an inch, and she felt his bulge brush against her toes, and she couldn’t keep herself from pushing her sole flat against the outline of his cock. Her protest got stuck in her throat, what little thoughts she had recovered went tumbling down into the dephts, kept dropping down, dragging her with them into a deep trance.
“Good girl,” she heard in the distance while she sunk back into the chair. “Good girl,” she heard while his hands began to move up her feet, past her ankle, up and down her calves. She was doing her best to rub both her soles against his bulge, unable to keep her body from betraying her, helpless against the urge to rub. “Such a good, empty girl,” he kept saying, kept muttering the words until she heard them with every breath, and every time the warmth turned a little more into a heat, the heat melting away her resistance. Memories swept back into her mind, of past encounters, when he had gotten her alone, during breaks, after work, on her way to the rest room. He was always there, overwhelming her, his smell, his eyes, his aura sapping away her resistance, rendering her helpless, and yearning for his touch, for his voice.
“Good girl,” she heard while he picked her up, and settled her on his lap, her skirt hiked up, his pants on the floor. He was kissing her neck, his face buried in her hair, his hands roaming up and down her sides, fingertips brushing against the side of her tits while she felt his cock rub against her panties, the heat of it numbing her lower body to the point that she couldn’t move it on her own at all, dependent on his hands, on his will. “Breathe in, deep, audibly, and you are so horny now. So sensitive. Out. And you’re empty. Weak. Mine.”
She gasped. His teeth were softly scratching along her neck, while his smell surrounded her like a cloud, keeping her inside, keeping her pinned. One of his hands went under her skirt and pulled her panties aside. He pushed in slowly, his cock filling her up, slowly going in, the heat of it melting away the last of her thoughts. In, and in until he hit her spot, and then out again. The tempo increased. Thrusting, fucking her empty, and docile, even more than she had already been. Always fucking her deeper, always a little deeper into his control. He kept whispering, never stopping the torrent of words that drowned her will, that buried her attempts to resist whenever they surfaced even for a second. Her body moved up and down on his lap, guided by him, steered by him, under his spell, his control.
There were instructions hidden in the usual words. She was aware, dimly, that there was going to be some work travel to be done soon. That she would make sure the two of them would go, the two of them alone for a week for a conference, and that she would love to do this for him, for the two of them. That she would enjoy finally becoming his, completely, docile, and weak. She nodded as best she could in between moaning and grunting, his cock thrusting in, hitting her spot, filling her up while he kept whispering, kept pouring in the words, the thoughts he wanted her to think.
She came with him, a good girl to the end, overwhelmed by the pleasure, and sinking into a brief sleep only to wake a few minutes later, refreshed at her desk, her colleagues streaming back into the office. She felt a distant heat tug at the edge of her mind, but she dismissed it, and went to work to organize the upcoming travel for the conference for herself and the new colleague.
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