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My new jobI took a deep breath and walked into my new office. It was my first day, and I had taken care to dress as casually as the man who'd interviewed me the previous week: A pressed pair of tan slacks, a sweater that was not-quite-too-tight, and a pair of comfortable shoes.I filled out the paperwork, and my new boss showed me to my assigned workstation, just outside his office. He was a man in his mid-40s with reading glasses and hair that was unable to decide if it was thinning faster, or graying faster. His rumpled dockers and casual shirt didn't hide the fact that he spent most of his time at a desk.I began viewing my orientation training video, with the disquieting sensation that my new boss was admiring my figure from behind, as the dreamy background music filled my ears and the abstract patterns behind the orientation slides filled my vision.In what seemed to be the blink of an eye, my new boss was standing next to my desk, reaching down to touch my shoulder. I was startled . . . how long had he been standing there? Had he spoken? I removed the headphones and looked up at him. He smiled and said *quot;It's lunch time. You'd enjoy going to lunch with me, wouldn't you?*quot; And suddenly, although I hadn't considered it before, I felt ravenously hungry, and very much wanted to join him for lunch.He led me to his car, and drove to a nearby restaurant. After explaining that the food in this particular Olive Garden was especially authentic, he said *quot;You won't mind me ordering for you, will you?*quot; and I suddenly realized how confusing it would be for me to order from the menu -- but a small voice in my mind rebelled. After all, how hard Zeytinburnu Escort could it be to order from an Olive Garden menu? But the majority of my mind agreed deeply. . . and I set aside my doubts.I frowned . . . while I had been thinking about that (and was it taking me a long time to think things through?) he'd said something about my breadsticks. I hadn't really heard him, but a voice in my head was telling me that Of COURSE good girls could deep-throat a breadstick.Several times during the meal, I caught him appraising me with his eyes, caught his glance at my breasts. When I scowled, he simply said, *quot;Your breasts deserve a man's attention, dont they?*quot; and I suddenly realized they did. I began to smile in anticipation as he said *quot;And you're pleased I noticed them, I bet.*quot; Without hesitation, I smiled broadly and said *quot;Yes, I am.*quot;But a little part of my mind kept arguing -- it's wrong. Wrong to invite his gaze at my figure. But that rational part of me kept hearing me prattle on about how much I appreciated his advice and attention.After the check was settled and we were in the parking lot, he said *quot;I think you have a lovely ass, Natascha. Don't you get a thrill when I look at it?*quot; and I gushed like a school girl *quot;Oh! I'm so glad you noticed.*quot;As he started the car, I heard him whisper something, and the drive back to the office was a blur. As he walked me back to my desk, I was quietly pleased that such a strong and powerful man was willing to put his hand in my back pocket and guide me to my chair.I was positively giddy as he helped me to put my headphones back in and start my afternoon training Zeytinburnu Escort session. But, the tiny rational voice in the back of my head objected, did he really have to brush the lunch crumbs off my chest?The afternoon passed in a flash, and when he was back at my desk, I was sitting in a daze, breathing heavily and dimly aware that my nipples were rock hard and my panties were starting to soak.I smiled when he said *quot;You're a very sexy girl, aren't you?*quot; and gave only the briefest of nods.When he said *quot;Please join me in my office*quot; I felt that she was compelled to do it . . . even though the back of my mind provided me the information that it was quitting time.When the boss said *quot;Good girls enjoy pleasing men, don't they?*quot; My brain actually formed the word *quot;No!*quot; but before the word made it, I heard my own voice saying *quot;Yes, of course.*quot;When he said *quot;I would be pleased if you'd show me your breasts,*quot; I was briefly confused, before I realized that as a good girl my priority was his pleasure. Confusion melted into concern as my hands, of their own accord, removed my top and bra. *quot;Are you pleased?*quot; I heard my own voice say. And even as I tried to object, I felt myself walking toward him. While I puzzled over the meaning of my own actions, I leaned over him and put my nipples right in front of his face.I was overjoyed when he said *quot;Good girl!*quot; And my hands flew to my zipper when he said *quot;I'd be even happier if you were nude.*quot;When he quietly observed *quot;You'd love to beg for my cock, wouldn't you?*quot; I automatically knelt . . . looking up at him and the words automatically gushed forth from my mouth *quot;Please! Escort Zeytinburnu Please, I want your cock. Please let me have it!*quot; and as I continued to beg, he slowly removed his trousers before saying *quot;The taste of my cock is what you've waited for all day, don't you agree?*quot; And in a flash I realized, that's what I'd been craving all day. I was confused . . . I tried my best each time to disagree with this man, but just couldn't find it in me to do so. . . and even as the though hit me that I had to agree, I felt his cock slipping into my mouth.I felt his hands on the back of my head as I sucked him deeper and harder than I'd ever sucked a man in my life. It barely registered when he said *quot;Swallowing a man's cum is the best thing for a woman like you, isn't it?*quot; I just knew I needed to take every drop of his seed, without missing any of it.When he was spent, and I'd swallowed every drop, I worked up her courage to say *quot;Are you pleased?*quot; He smiled, and took a breast in each hand and used them to help her to her feet. *quot;Yes, Natascha, I'm very pleased.*quot;Except, I think you'll feel much better tomorrow if you wear a skirt and blouse, and higher heels, and not bother with panties. Don't you agree?*quot; And without hesitation I said *quot;Yes, I agree.*quot; He continued *quot;Also, I know you don't like your first name, but it is so much more fitting, Dominique. Let me call you like this.*quot; And I nodded. Why did I ever wanted to be called by my second name, when Dominique, or Domi, sounds so much better.With the slightest tone of anticipation he said *quot;Good girls come to the boss' office 15 minutes early to model their outfit and suck his cock, don't they?*quot; And I, through the haze, said *quot;Oh, of course!*quot; When he left the room, I slowly dressed, wondering what I had been thinking wearing panties to work this morning . . .and planning the next day with anticipation.[If you enjoyed the story, please feel free to continue]Next day's outfit: