His Secretary

She shows up in her usual office clothes, but he already has the rope waiting. Ties her wrists, binds her arms tight behind her back. When she opens her mouth to speak he shoves the bit between her teeth, buckles it hard, and she bites down like she can't help it. The gag sits deep, leather straps biting at her cheeks. Spit gathers fast. It drips down her chin while he watches. His beard scrapes her skin when he leans in close. Tells her exactly what she is. She shudders, but her hips push forward like she's asking for it anyway. He forces her down, hands in her hair, cock pressed against her cheek. She can't beg. Can't swallow. Just takes it when he pushes past her lips, cock sliding over her tongue while she drools around the gag. He grips her hair harder, sets the pace, fucks her face slow and deliberate. Every thrust makes the bit rattle between her teeth. Every slap of his hips against her chin pushes more spit down her chest. She chokes, eyes watering, but she keeps her mouth open as best she can. Takes what he gives her. Needs it. The desk behind her, the open door somewhere down the hall. The risk just makes her wetter. He pulls out only to slap her face with his cock, smearing spit across her flushed skin. Then back in, deeper this time. Harder. The ropes hold her. The bit keeps her quiet. And he uses both like he owns them. Like he owns her.