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Sunlight slanted through the slatted blinds of Sahrye’s mid-century modern office, casting narrow stripes of gold across the smooth walnut desktop. Sahrye sat poised behind the desk—her short black hair framing a face refined and confident, the fitted charcoal dress accentuating every sleek curve of her hourglass silhouette. She leaned forward, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised as she addressed the lonely figure at her feet.“You’re here to be my personal assistant,” her voice coiled like velvet over steel. “I need someone to handle all the mundane tasks I don’t have time for. Have you ever done this before?” He shook his head, words caught somewhere between surprise and panic. Sahrye’s lips curved. “No experience, poor multitasking, zero social-media savvy.” She paused, tapping a long, lacquered nail against the desktop. “Why are you here?” As if in answer, he shrank—first his shoulders, then his torso, until his shoes dropped from sight. His shirt ballooned around a form no larger than a beetle. Sahrye watched him diminish with curious amusement. “Well, now,” she murmured, rising gracefully from her chair. The soft click of her heels on the polished floor echoed. She circled him, each deliberate step a statement of power. He cowered under the shadow of her imposing height. “Tiny man syndrome?” she teased, leaning in to let her giant ass brush his trembling form. Her booty was impossibly close—he could feel the fabric of her dress, the faint scent of cotton. “Should I squash you like the bug you are?” He flinched, edging backward against the leather seat. Sahrye chuckled, Picking him up off the chair and takes him back to her desk. lifting one enormous foot and placing it beside him on the desk. “Worship,” she ordered. “Rub every line, every curve.” On trembling knees, he obeyed, his fingertips pressing into the supple skin of her arch. The tip of her toe brushed his temple, prompting a shudder that ran through both of them. Sahrye reclined in her chair, swinging one leg over the other, letting him trace the satin sheen of her stretched stocking. “Climb,” she whispered. “Prove your worth.” He began the ascent up her calf—softer than he’d imagined, as pliant as silk under his hands—until she plucked him up and nestled him between the generous swell of her cleavage. Warmth and the faint aroma of her perfume surrounded him. He scrambled to escape, heart hammering, but her gentle fingers closed around him, returning him to the desk’s surface. He froze as she perched beside him again, wiggling her hips until he stared in helpless awe. “Look at you,” she purred. “So small, so powerless. All because I pointed out your inadequacies.” She tapped her heel, sending him skittering across the veneer. A soft laugh. “I could end you,” she mused, lifting a slender foot to hover above him. “But I’d miss your little struggles.” She pressed down just enough that he flattened with a startled gasp, the coolness of the leather contrasting with the heat of his panic. When she lifted her foot, he lay gasping. “You’ll do nicely as my pet,” Sahrye decided. “You’ll serve me whenever I demand it—start with a foot rub, then climb once more.” She slid him into the drawer at her side, its plush velvet lining cradling his tiny form. From above, Sahrye’s voice drifted down like silk. “Rest now. I’ll call on you when I need you—don’t disappoint me, or the next time I find you, you may not be so lucky.” She closed the drawer with a soft click. The office lights dimmed in the slanting afternoon glow, leaving him in shadow, acutely aware of his new, infinitesimal place in her world.
Keywords Feet, Sahrye, Media Imapct, POV, Ass, Booty, Shoes, Cleavage, Hand Held, Black Dress, Black Hair
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