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Silencing the Office Misogynist Part 1

Olivia Teaches Jonathan How to Be a Good Boy.

Jonathan slicked his short brown hair back — it wasn’t intentional, just more of a nervous tic. He hated confrontation, but more than that, he hated Olivia. He hated everything about her. Her perfect blonde hair and perfect blue eyes. He hated how she dressed and used her body to get anything she wanted. She was a true manipulator, a man-eater. He’d see her walking around the office with outfits that really exaggerated her cleavage and a skirt that did little to hide her ass.

“Why can’t you just dress normally Olivia? Our department’s getting hounded by management about dress code,” he yelled at her, this wasn’t the first time they’d had this fight.

The two of them never got on. They were vying for the same management position and were doing all that they could to bring the other down.

In response, she slammed the door to his office and locked it.

“And what are you going to do about it?” she spat.

“Gah!” Jonathan exclaimed, “Why must you be such a…”

“A what?” she screamed back, her face turning red from rage,

“A fucking classless whore!” he bellowed.

She stood silently and took a deep, labored breath. She hated people like Jonathan, old school, misogynistic idiots who’ve probably not had sex in years, and don’t deserve to either.

“Right,” she began, adjusting her blouse, “I’m so tired of your sexist bullshit.”

In a fit of anger, she stepped forward and slapped Jonathan across the face. The impact echoed in the small, sectioned off office room. Before he can react, she pushes him down sending him careering onto the floor with a deep thud. He was six feet tall and she was only five-foot-two. He was astounded such a small woman could have such strength.

She dropped to her knees, pinning his hands below them and perched herself on his chest. Looking past her short skirt, he could see Jonathan’s face turn red from embarrassment.

“Get off me, you whore!” he exclaimed,

“Call me a whore again, and I’ll show you a real one,” she fumed, slapping him once again, “I’ll turn you into one, my own, personal, whore!” she slapped him again.

She rose off his chest but still kept his hands pinned below her knees. Jonathan was now looking directly up her tiny skirt. He could see the tiny cotton thong she was wearing — it left very little to the imagination. She dropped her crotch down and began to teasingly, yet forcefully, grind on his face. She gyrated her hips and rolled up and down, smearing herself on her victim’s face. He could smell her essence and as she heaved, and he found his lips being dragged open with friction. He couldn’t just smell her, he could taste her too.

“For such a big man, Jonathan, you are pathetic, really. An actual pushover. All bark, no bite.” she laughed, “I mean, I barely pushed you and know you’re trapped under me, with your face buried in my pussy. You must’ve wanted this. Why is that I wonder? Maybe because you’re a whore?” she mocked. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Get the fmmmph mmph mmmph!” he screamed, but she shut him up by pushing herself further onto him, sealing his mouth with her body.

“God, I hate you. No, I mean it, I really hate you.” she tutted casually, “Oh, you pathetic worm, don’t you see this is where you belong? Below me? Serving me? Pleasuring me?” she cooed, “I’ll make you realize this. You’ll be begging for it soon. But for now, I just want to shut you up for a while,” she laughed. “I’m so tired of your condescending voice! Olivia wear longer dresses! Olivia shows less cleavage! Just shut the fuck up already!”

Olivia stood, her feet now pinning his hands to the floor, “Stay down there if you know what’s good for you!” Jonathan flailed angrily, and screamed at her, but she was unfazed.

She towered above him, legs on either side of his head and dropped her thong onto his face. She crouched down and with a flat palm smeared her underwear across his mouth and nose, forcing him to smell and taste her. She laughed maniacally.

“Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan, look where your loudmouth has got you now?” she grinned, kicking her thong off, “There are very few things I enjoy more than breaking little bitches who hate me,” she grinned mischievously, “The fall of a proud man to a pathetic pussy snuffing slut is just too delectable for me to pass up. I can’t ignore the opportunity to put a man in his place and turn him into my personal whore.”

In a swift movement, she dropped herself into a reverse cowgirl face-sit. Jonathan’s mouth was now engulfed by Olivia’s labia. His nose was against her naked asshole. Upon realizing this, he screamed tremendously, but his cries didn’t escape the crotch of his tormentor. He couldn’t breathe below her as he thrashed about in a futile attempt of resistance.

“You’re lucky I keep myself clean down there.” she laughed, “You could just as well be sniffing a hot, sweaty asshole!”

“Mmmphmm!” he complained, his eyes staring with rage at her back.

“Y’know Jonathan. This face of yours is pretty comfy. Maybe I should tie it to my office chair!” she laughed, “But here’s the deal pussy-boy. You are going to start licking me out, or you are going to suffocate and die under my divine cunt!”

“Mmmph!” he screamed,

“Oh yeah, scream some more, that felt good!” she quivered.

“Mmmphmm!” his hands tried to flail, but she held them down. His legs kicked in desperation but to no avail, she held on tight, forcing his face deeper into her sex.

He settled down as his oxygen began to run out. Suddenly she felt a tongue inside her. It was hesitant and timid, but it was definitely there.

“Good boy,” Olivia mewed as she wiggled her hips, “keep licking me, learn your place.”

His tongue started to slide around her, rolling over her clitoris in a figure-eight pattern.

“Oh that’s good, I might let you breathe now!” she lifted her thigh and heard him inhale deeply before slamming herself back down, “Keep licking bitch!” she commanded.

She was riding his face back and forth. She’d face-sat before, but never under circumstances like this, it was electric. Something about it made it far more exciting. Maybe it was her forceful nature, or the fear of being caught, or simply knocking a sexist pig down a peg or two… or ten. It was probably all three. She continued to grind on his face, her hands loosening her blouse and unstrapping her red-lace bra.

“Oh god, keep licking! Make me cum bitch boy!” she moaned, “I’m not letting you breathe till you’re drinking my cum!”

Jonathan he no doubt in his mind that she would follow up on that threat. His licking increased in tenacity, and he began to wiggle his face, hoping it would bring her to orgasm closer, so he could escape.

“Oh fuck!” she screamed as her thighs tightened and euphoria spread throughout her body.

Jonathan’s open mouth was suddenly filled with the flavor of his tormentor. Trapped below her and desperate for air, he was forced to swallow her juices. She purred as she heard his throat gulp down her arousal.

Suddenly he felt her hands unzipping his fly and grasping his dick. He felt her spit on it, and she began to pump him slowly. Her firm was grip yet somehow gentle as she felt her fingers run over his shaft.

“Tell me you enjoyed that,” she lifted her crotch, “Tell me you loved eating me out. That you loved tasting me!”

“I did not! No fucking wa-” she sealed his mouth with her pussy.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll make you like it!” she giggled as she jerked him off passionately, all the while still grinding on his face.

He wriggled and moaned beneath her, trying his best to convince himself he wasn’t enjoying it at all, that he hated it, but the tension was brewing, and his mind was faltering. He tensed himself, hoping he could stem the flow of his orgasm, but it was to little effect. As she slid her pussy across his face and her hands down his shaft, she cupped his balls in one hand and fondled them gently. She knew this was a killer move. He lasted only a few seconds after that and blew his load over his own pants. He moaned weakly below her.

“I fucking knew you loved it, whore!” she laughed, “Don’t. Lie. To. Me. Again!” she punctuated each word by bouncing on his face.

He wailed below her. He didn’t know what he felt. He was exhausted, and his face felt flattened and wet. He resented the taste in his mouth and all the implications along with it.

“I’m ready for round two, are you?” she dropped herself back onto his face. “Same as before, make me cum, or you don’t breathe, got it? whore” she demanded.

He moaned into her pussy, it almost sounded like a whimper or cry. She loved that. His tongue protruded once more into her and slithered about, searching for her g-spot — he wanted this done quickly. With one hand, she grabbed his hair and with the other, grabbed the collar of his shirt. She pulled his face deep into her. He had no escape, and he was running out of air. He kept licking impatiently as though his life depended on it — and for all he knew, it did. She grabbed his fingers and brought them up to her nipples.

“Play with these or so help me, I’ll drown you in my cum,” she commanded breathlessly.

Olivia rode his face hard, burying him in her pussy. He moaned and whimpered, and he felt his voice resonating in her labia as though it were a vibrator. His fingers tweaked and grabbed her breasts as she punished his face with her clean-shaven pussy. The more he moaned, the more she did too. Eventually, his tongue danced long enough on her sweet spot and his wailing brought her to the point of no return. She felt an intense sensation spread through her body like a pulsation of relaxation and joy. Jonathan felt his mouth and nose fill with her essence, and he spluttered beneath her, drinking it down as quickly as he could. She sighed massively and rested on his face for a moment, to relish the experience, before she stood.

In a daze, Jonathan lay there with Olivia’s juices smeared across his face and his own across his pants. The nearest bathroom was on the opposite side of the busy office. He lamented as he watched her get dressed.

“Same time tomorrow?” she teased threateningly,

He pathetically shook his head in refutation. She laughed and walked out the door.

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