Brianna shifted as much as she could, trying to take her weight off her knees, if only for a second. Her head banged against the bottom of the desk, and she slumped back down, groaning.

She’d dreamed about sitting at this desk. The polished mahogany desk was one of a kind, handmade by a carpenter as his last project before he retired. He couldn’t even come out of retirement to make another; he’d died two years ago. The desk exuded power and status, and she’d waited, patiently, for many long years for her father to pass and for her to inherit it, to finally sit at the desk at the head of the company her father built.

She’d never once imagined that her first time behind the desk would be like this. Not sitting behind it in the two thousand dollar, luxury, black leather executive office chair, but crammed under it, hidden from view from all but whoever actually got to sit in that powerful chair.

The eyebolts screwed into the underside of the desk were new, a sacrilege to modify such an exquisite work of art with something so crude, but after the last hour she couldn’t argue their effectiveness. A harness of ropes threaded through the various eyebolts held her in position, bound in an uncomfortable kneeling position, bent forward, the tension in her shoulder blades from the rope connected to her bound wrists forcing her to constantly struggle against gravity to keep the pressure off her aching shoulders. Her naked breasts hung beneath her, stretched taut by the heavy weight of the chrome orbs hanging from the binder clamps that bit into her nipples. They were part of a Newton’s Cradle, the little executive desk toy that had sat on her father’s desk for as long as she could remember. Now, if she struggled too much, the balls would once more collide with each other, causing fresh agony in her tortured tits. The other three hung from her labia lips and her clit. The last one he’d made her put on herself, just to test to see if she’d obey. It hurt like hell, but even worse was the humiliation, using the cruel binder clip on herself while he watched, knowing she couldn’t argue. She’d cried, despite trying so hard not to, tears welling up in her eyes unbidden while she held back a primal scream of pain and frustration.

The others had been applied for her, after she was tied up and secured under the desk. She’d cried at their application as well, but her panties stuffed in her mouth had done an adequate job of turning her screams into muffled sobs. She tried again to use her tongue to force the stifling garment out of her mouth, but the tie, his tie, wrapped tightly around her head, digging painfully into the corners of her lips, ensured that she was staying well and truly gagged, at least until he came back and found a better use for her mouth.

She was not blind to the position her head was in, where her mouth would be when someone sat behind the desk. A rope wound through the tight ponytail he’d tied her hair in, holding her head firmly in place to another eyebolt screwed into the desk directly above her. She could turn her head slightly to the right or left, and even less up or down, none of which changed her very limited view of the chair and the wall behind it from her place beneath the desk. She certainly couldn’t see the door to the office, but her heart beat faster every time she heard footsteps outside, wondering if someone would open the door. No one would find her like this. Even with her father no longer alive, none of his employees would have dared barge in without an invitation, even if his secretary, Linda, wasn’t fiercely guarding his office.

Brianna wondered if Linda knew she was in there. She’d arrived early, with the express intention of beating Linda to the office. Surely the woman had arrived now, had been there for hours, probably, though it was hard to tell exactly how long she’d been trapped under the desk. She almost hoped Linda would find her, the humiliation of being discovered like this almost worth the freedom from her bondage.

Footsteps, again, and a voice, a very familiar voice, muffled through the door. “Thanks again. I’m going to do great things with this company.”

Her company. It was supposed to be her company. She should have been out there, thanking whoever he was talking to. Despite her predicament, the rage welled up within her again. The heavy balls hanging from her sore tits clacked together as she shuddered against her bonds, to no avail.

“Looking forward to it. I’ll talk to you later,” he said, and the door handle clicked open. His footsteps got louder as he entered the office, and the door closed behind him. She realized she was holding her breath, her heartbeat racing in her ears. His legs appeared, walking into her limited field of view as he came around the desk, pulling the chair back. Her eyes went from his black leather dress shoes up his dark grey slacks, expecting to see him bend down and look at her, to check that she was exactly where he left her, but no, he just sat down in the chair, confident that she was precisely where he wanted her. She could just see the edge of his blue dress shirt, tucked into his slacks, his shiny silver belt buckle glinting in the light.

“Stan the man!”

Her heartbeat quickened, thinking there was someone else in the room, but he continued, and she realized he was talking on the phone.

“No, thank you. You and the board made the right call.”

It had to be Stan Wilson; he was on the board of directors. They must have just had the meeting about electing a new CEO. A meeting she had been unable to attend.

He slid his chair a little further under the desk. His knees were on either side of her head, making her feel even more trapped in the enclosed space. “He left some mighty big shoes to fill, but I’m going to make him proud.” His hand dropped down into view, going straight for his belt buckle. Brianna gulped, her drool-soaked panties still ripe with the taste of her own pussy. She’d been so excited this morning, just the prospect of taking this office and sitting behind this desk making her wet mere hours ago.

“It’s a shame, Stan,” he said. She could barely make out the voice of Stan coming from the phone above her, but not enough to hear what he was saying, especially not when the sound of his zipper being pulled down just inches from her face filled her ears. “Obviously, I’m not going to fire her. Kirk might have let her get away with sticking her hand in the company coffers, but she’s still the great man’s daughter.”

She couldn’t even consider the ramifications of the board knowing about her embezzling, she was transfixed watching as he freed his cock from his trousers. He was already hard, the head of his penis brushing against her nose and gag. “She’s not going to keep her current position, of course. I already have a much more suitable job in mind for her.”

His fingers hooked under his tie cleave gagging her and yanked it from between her lips, letting it fall down around her neck. He plucked her panties from her mouth. She had a moment where if she yelled, Stan might hear over the phone. And she could do what, exactly? Alert him that the man they had just made CEO of the company had her, the embezzling daughter of the late, previous CEO, captive under his desk. She knew what men like Stan Wilson thought of her. He would have been the second person she fired if she had been made CEO, a dream she thought would come true just this very morning. She couldn’t do that, not now, and she let her mouth hang open as the first person she had planned to fire put his dick in her mouth.

“She won’t have any power. I’ll come up with some token title for her. And it’ll come with a significant pay cut. But we’ll keep her on the payroll, and we don’t have to besmirch Kirk’s good name by revealing that his own daughter was stealing from his company.”

That hurt almost as much as the dick pressing into the back of her throat. It wasn’t just Gavin who knew about her crimes. They all knew. The whole board. And if they knew, half the senior VPs knew too. Literally any of them could blackmail her just as easy as Gavin. Any one of them could have her just as she was now, bound under a desk, deep throating one of her many, many new bosses.

“Don’t worry, Stan,” Gavin continued on the phone above her. “I’ll keep her on a very short leash.”

She felt a sharp tug foreword from the collar he’d strapped around her neck, and she choked as his dick rammed the back of her throat. He was getting harder in her mouth while he conversed casually with his boy’s club in thinly veiled innuendo about what he was going to do with her now that he practically owned her ass.

“I bet you would, you dog you!” he punctuated it with big, fake laughs, leaving it to her imagination whatever perverse things Stan Wilson was talking about doing to her. He kept pulling her leash, forcing her to bob up and down on his shaft. Her ponytail pulled on her hair, muffled moans spilling from her lips in tandem with thick rivulets is sloppy drool, dripping down her stretched tits and onto the clacking metal balls swinging back and forth from her clamped nipples and pussy lips and clit.

“Careful what you wish for, Stan, the man. I’m sure I could make that happen.” She knew, as he face fucked her below the desk, that he could make that happen. He could pass her around the office, letting everyone from the board to the lowly interns take their turn with her. As bad as what dirty old men like “Stan the man” and the rest of the decrepit board of directors would do with her body, it was worse to imagine what the dozens of employees that had been below her a mere twenty-four hours ago might do. All the people she had thought beneath her would have their opportunity to exact revenge for all the times she’d used the fact that her father was the CEO to make unreasonable demands of without fear of repercussions. There would be repercussions now though. All her chickens come home to roost.

Maybe.

Only if Gavin let them.

“I gotta let you go, Stan. I’ve got a lot to catch up on,” he continued. “I’ll get her caught up to speed on her new position later. For the moment, she’s fine where she is.”

His dick poked the back of her throat, and she wretched, thick torrents of drool spilling from her open mouth, dribbling down her tits. The janitor would have quite a mess to clean up.

Over her own gagging, she could hear him typing, working away on his computer. She’d thought maybe the phone call was just for show, and after he hung up, he’d address her again, but she’d been wrong. He was actually working up there, and she was just a sleeve for his cock while he did the job she had thought was to be hers.

If she wanted his attention, she’d have to earn it.

Slowly at first, hating herself, she started to lick, running her tongue along her the underside of her boss’ cock. The balls clacked together, drawing fresh pain from her tits and pussy. It was a familiar sound. She’d heard it thousands of times as the balls bounced back and forth on her father’s desk for years. The Newton’s Cradle was a toy, a neat one, about as close to a perfect perpetual motion machine as man could make, but a toy nonetheless. Underneath the grand office desk, a new executive office toy set to work keeping those silver balls in motion as she bobbed her head as much as her bonds would allow.