Office Disgrace
Copyright© 2026 by Susmitha Saran
Chapter 9
BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 9 - An arrogant Nappo CEO is brought to her knees by her own employees. She is taught a lesson that she would never forget in her life. Though reluctant at first, she started accepting her new life.
Caution: This BDSM Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa NonConsensual Reluctant Slavery Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Celebrity Workplace BDSM MaleDom Humiliation Rough Sadistic Torture Gang Bang Orgy Interracial Black Female Indian Female Anal Sex Facial Oral Sex Scatology Spitting Water Sports Body Modification Needles Public Sex AI Generated
The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, but Priyanka barely noticed. Her body ached in the most delicious ways—every sore muscle, every tender bruise a reminder of how thoroughly Mr. Heffner had claimed her the night before. She stretched lazily, her tongue flicking out to catch the lingering taste of him on her lips. A shiver ran down her spine. This was her life now: no more board meetings, no more high-powered deals. Just obedience. Just service. Just pleasure—his, not hers. And the thought made her pulse quicken.
The shower water scalded her skin, but she welcomed it. She scrubbed herself raw, as if trying to erase any last trace of her old self. The steam fogged the mirror, but she didn’t need to see her reflection to know what she’d become. The uniform laid out for her said it all—the skirt so short it barely grazed her thighs, the blouse sheer enough to showcase the tight peaks of her nipples. She painted her lips crimson, smudged her eyeliner just enough to look used. The heels clicked like a metronome as she descended the stairs, each step a surrender.
Anya’s gasp was audible. The maid’s dark eyes widened, her usually steady hands freezing mid-motion over the breakfast tray. “Ma’am,” she breathed, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. “You can’t—your father would—”
Priyanka didn’t let her finish. The marble floor was cold against her knees as she dropped down, her fingers trembling as they traced the delicate bones of Anya’s ankles. The slave card crumpled slightly in her grip as she offered it up—a confession, a sentence. “Read it,” she whispered.
The silence was suffocating. Anya’s fingers trembled as they brushed the embossed letters. “Property of Heffner.” The words hung between them, sharp as a blade.
“You didn’t have to do this,” Anya finally choked out, her accent thickening with emotion. “Your father loved you—”
“He’s gone.” Priyanka’s voice was hollow. “And I’d rather be a collar around his memory than a stain on it.”
The leash gleamed in her palm as she held it out. The metal links were cool, unforgiving. “Take it,” she urged. “Own me. Use me. Let me serve you—the way I never did before.”
Anya’s breath hitched. Her fingers closed around the leash slowly, as if afraid it might burn. The clasp clicked shut against Priyanka’s throat with finality.
The kiss was unexpected—soft at first, then bruising. Anya’s hands tangled in Priyanka’s hair, pulling her closer, claiming her mouth with a desperation that bordered on violence. Priyanka moaned into it, her body arching instinctively.
Breakfast was a blur. The clink of silverware, the rustle of fabric as Anya settled into the chair—the mistress now, not the maid. Priyanka knelt at her feet, her cheek resting against Anya’s thigh. The plate on the floor was a cruel joke, but she lapped at the food eagerly, her lips brushing the polished wood between bites.
Anya’s fingers stroked through her hair, possessive. “Good girl,” she murmured.
Priyanka’s heart soared. For the first time in months, she felt—whole.
The morning commute blurred past Priyanka’s consciousness, her mind still floating in the delicious haze of submission. The city’s noise barely registered—her thoughts lingered on the soft ache between her thighs, the faint sting across her ass, the way her nipples tightened against the silk of her blouse whenever she remembered yesterday’s ... activities.
Naomi’s dark eyes met hers the moment she stepped into the office lobby. A slow smirk curled the other woman’s lips, stirring a familiar heat low in Priyanka’s belly. Without hesitation, she crossed the room, her knees hitting the cool tile before she’d even fully processed the movement. The scent of Naomi’s leather heels filled her nostrils as she pressed her lips to them, her tongue darting out for the barest taste—just enough to make her handler chuckle.
“Good girl,” Naomi murmured, her fingers briefly tangling in Priyanka’s hair before nudging her away.
The walk to Heffner’s office—no, her master’s office—was automatic now. The choker around her throat was snug, the leash dangling between her breasts like a promise. She settled beside the door, thighs pressed together, back straight, waiting.
His polished shoes came into view first. The sharp click of his stride sent a shiver up her spine.
“Morning, pet.”
Her leash was in his hand before she could think, her lips already brushing the toe of his shoe. The leather was warm from his body heat, the faint musk of his cologne making her mouth water.
Inside, she crawled behind him, her palms slapping softly against the floor in time with his steps. His chair creaked as he sat, and she curled herself at his side, her cheek resting against his thigh.
The day unfolded as it always did—fetching coffee (black, two sugars), arranging his lunch (no onions, he hated the smell), delivering files with her head bowed, her body offered as casually as an extra pen.
Board members’ hands wandered. Fingers pinched her nipples through her blouse. Palms smacked her ass hard enough to leave fingerprints. One particularly bold executive bent her over the copy machine, his breath hot against her neck as he ground against her, laughing when she whimpered.
Any hesitation—any hint of resistance—was noted. Scribbled onto a list that would be reviewed come Tuesday.
By Friday, her thighs were littered with bruises. Her lips were swollen from use. The title “office slut” wasn’t whispered behind her back anymore—it was said to her face, and she answered with a smile.
At home, Heffner’s arrival was heralded by the jingle of his keys. She greeted him on her knees by the door, her mouth already open, her body already thrumming with anticipation.
He used her without preamble. Sometimes her mouth, her throat working around him until her eyes watered. Sometimes her cunt, her hips jerking as he fucked her raw against the kitchen counter.
She told him about Anya. About the way she’d crawled to her former maid, begging forgiveness through trembling lips. About how Anya had agreed to me her mistress at her home.
Heffner’s fingers tightened in her hair, his groan vibrating through her skull. “Fuck, yes. You’re learning so well.”