“Is it in?”

Craig held the phone away from his ear and stared at it, then shook his head and brought it back. He squirmed a bit in his office chair, and lowered his voice. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s a simple question, Craig. Is it in?”

There was silence, followed by a mumbled “Yes.”

“Hard?”

He grimaced, his ass clenching. “It was hard when you gave it to me.”

“Not the plug, Craig. Don’t get cute with me.”

His shoulders slumped. His voice faded to a mere whisper into the phone. “Yes, damn you, I’m hard!”

“Now wasn’t that easy to say? Thank you, sweet boy. Now fetch the pill bottle.”

Craig flicked his eyes to the wall clock. “But -- I have a meeting in five minutes!”

The woman’s voice on the phone hardened. “I know, Craig. The meeting you expected to run, until that big-titted bitch got the job instead of you. I never forget the things you’ve told me, Craig, and I shouldn’t need to remind you that the clock is ticking.”

Craig bit his lower lip, reached into his lap and unzipped his slacks, then fished his stiff cock out with some difficulty. Opening his center drawer, he took out a large pill bottle and unscrewed the top, setting it on the edge of his desk. Glancing at the clock intermittently, he started stroking until his cock spurted, swooping the bottle to add to the thick globs already inside. He had just enough time to cap the bottle and zip his pants before rushing to the afternoon meeting.

Craig had been the obvious choice to succeed old Mathers when he retired, but the corporate management consultants had gone a different direction. Cora, the newly named division leader, was a hellion on wheels and seemed intent on tearing down and revising every project and policy that had made the division successful. If the woman had any assets other than the ones pressing against her blouse, it wasn’t evident to him.

Worse, his cock was sensitive from just having jerked off, and he couldn’t find a position in the conference room chair that didn’t force him to focus on the plug in his ass. Every time that Cora threw an insinuating question his way, he had to struggle to keep his expression business-neutral and his voice steady. It made the meeting agony, but there was nothing he could do but sit back and accept the new reality of his job. For the next hour and a half, Craig entertained himself by devising (and reluctantly discarding) four different ways of undercutting and getting rid of the woman. Finally, she assigned a single meaningless project to him, and the meeting broke up.

When he got back to his office, the pill bottle was gone.

Craig closed and locked his office door, then tore through the place looking for the bottle. Finally, shoulders slumping, he settled into his chair and wriggled on the butt plug, and tried to figure out what had happened and what he could do about it. As he chewed his lip, he noticed an email announcement on his computer screen. “Drink Me,” the title said. He wondered how the email got past the corporate spam filter, and would have junked it immediately if it hadn’t shown Cora as the sender. That was strange, since she hadn’t been division leader long enough for her name and his to get linked in the usual phishing networks. Curious now, he opened the email.

“I thought that would get your attention,” he read. “Don’t worry about the bottle, it’s in safe hands. But I expected more from you, so we’re going to have to change a few things. I hope you like getting emails from Cora -- you’ll never know whether it’s real or from me unless you read them. Better get back to your work, Craig, you wouldn’t want the quarterly review committee to hear that you don’t -- put out enough quality!”

There was no signature on the email. Not that he needed one. For what seemed the millionth time he cursed his stupidity in having logged onto that porn chat website from the office. He’d thought himself so clever, finding a way to bypass the office security filters, but someone on the website had been smarter and had tracked him back. Whoever it was had managed to link his website handle to his real name, home email and office email. His first notice had been the plain box delivered to his desk, containing the pill bottle and an anal plug with a packet of lube. The kicker was the webcam picture. Craig had never given a second thought to the birthmark on his cock until then.

Now some woman -- he hoped to God it was only a woman -- had him by the balls, requiring Craig to milk his cock at random intervals, his ass squeezing around a heavy butt plug.

It almost made the humiliation of having Cora as the new boss bearable.

The rest of his day was almost normal. Even if his current project was something an intern could have handled, work was work and Craig was a professional. Besides, he had no leverage. His attempts to contact someone from her previous division had resulted in a singular and depressing silence.

He took a coffee break a bit before 4:00, and while stirring the sugar in his phone went off. “Time to refill!” was the text message. Biting back a few choice obscenities, he walked briskly -- almost running -- to his office, seeing the bottle front and center on his desk. He exhaled and relaxed to see it empty, as it meant nobody would be prompted to ask difficult questions. Closing and locking the door, he unfastened his belt and lowered his zipper to start loading the bottle again. Thanks to the earlier meeting, he had plenty of creative images of Cora to use as fuel, and by the time he was finished the bottle had a significant and heavy amount inside.

Five o’clock came, and there were no commanding phone calls, nor any disturbing emails. Craig took a bathroom break to clean himself, tucked the pill bottle into his pocket, and headed home. He arrived without incident, fixed a healthful dinner, and sat down to go through the day’s mail. Bill, bill, credit card offer, car wash discount, personal and confidential -- wait -- what?

Craig tossed the other materials aside and looked at the only one that suddenly mattered. The envelope appeared to have been addressed with an old-fashioned manual typewriter; the return address was his own office, and the postmark was the same date the plug had arrived at his desk. Inside was a single sheet of business-weight paper, apparently using the same typewriter, and expanding on the instructions that had accompanied the original shocking delivery:

A) The butt plug was to be his constant companion, except when going to the bathroom.

B) He was to masturbate before work and before bed, plus any time he received a reminder to do so.

C) He was to keep the pill bottle in the middle drawer of his office desk when at the office

D) He was to leave his office door unlocked whenever he was away

E) He was never to shut his cellphone off

Craig put the letter down and rubbed his temples. It was just a nightmare. Surely he would wake up in the morning and all of this would be a bad dream. But before he could do that, he had to make his deposit into the pill bottle. He’d do that and get to bed early, and hope for the best.

The buzz of his phone ringing woke him in a state of confusion -- where as it -- what time was it? When he realized it was barely 2:30 in the morning, he practically yelled into the phone. “WHAT?”

The person on the other end of the call spoke soothingly. “Now Craig, that’s no way to talk to your new best friend.” The voice was male, not female. Craig’s stomach lurched. “I just needed to let you know it’s time for another contribution in the bottle. And try not to scream on the phone, dear boy. It hurts my ears.” With that, the call clicked off.

Jerking off at almost three in the morning, on orders from a strange man, put Craig through the wringer. He was sweating after fifteen minutes of effort, having been unable to focus on his usual porn images. Finally, with his cock getting sore from the stroking, he managed to get something out. He capped the bottle and stumbled back to bed, where his dreams were anything but restful.

Craig’s new morning routine, if perverse, was at least straightforward. He tried not to be aware of the warmth of the liquid-filled bottle in his pocket as he drove to work. He had bigger worries. Cora’s project was in his lap, beneath his dignity but still requiring a production that would satisfy her most critical review. Someone in his office was obviously part of the website trap, in order to be retrieving and emptying his -- output. Judging from the man’s voice in the previous night’s phone call, he was being double-teamed at least, multiplying the number of people who had his incriminating cock picture.

On top of all that -- or maybe on the bottom -- his rear was starting to get used to the shape and feel of the butt plug. Of all the aspects of his situation, that was the one that Craig found most disturbing.

Normally, Friday would be a wind-down day. This wasn’t to be a normal Friday. Upper management wanted updates on two of his cancelled projects, which required some creative wording for Craig to look good without appearing to blame Cora. There didn’t seem to be any detectable difference between the email headers on Cora’s meeting announcement and the email from his tormentor. And Craig bypassed both lunch and bathroom breaks, staying either in his office or within view of it all day, hoping to see who was coming to pick up his bottle. He had no luck there, and with three text message reminders his bottle was filling rapidly.

The last email he received before shutting his computer down instructed him to go by the mail room and pick up a package. With a sense of dread, he collected the plain padded mailing envelope and tossed it into his portfolio for the trip home. Once home, he checked his mailbox for strange contents, and booted his system to make sure there were no new instructions. Relieved, he fixed himself a double Scotch and settled down for dinner. It took all of dinner and another drink afterward, with no beeps from his phone, for Craig to finally feel like he could relax for the weekend.

Or just relax for the moment. There was still that unopened package in his portfolio.

The hell with it. This was his weekend, and he wasn’t going let himself be bullied into a nervous collapse just because he’d gotten his dick in a wringer. Stream some movies, jerk off, get a good night’s sleep, let his brain have some creative thought on the problem, and he’d surely find a way to deal with everything. The package could wait for the morning. And with that, Craig shook off everything about the week and had an almost normal evening.