The other office girls are whispering again. They’re giggling, blushing, and casting sideways glances down the hallway—toward your room. They’re all too flustered to go back in after what happened last time. One of them barely lasted ten minutes before she gave up, red-faced and frustrated, mumbling something about you being “difficult.” So they look to me—the receptionist. Just the soft-spoken, curvy girl behind the front desk who’s always polite, always smiling, and always watching. They say, “Why don’t you try again? He seemed to respond to you.” And inside, I’m thrilled. I keep my excitement quiet, professional, but my thighs squeeze together as I make the walk down the hall. You’re sitting there, waiting. Still hard. Still needy. Still trying to hold onto that pride you came in with. But you and I both know how this works now. You try to act unaffected, like you’re in control—but the moment I step inside with my soft curves and sweet, teasing tone, it all starts to unravel. I’m gentle, but firm. Sweet, but just a little bit mean. I know exactly how small you feel compared to me. How helpless. How humiliated… and how much you love it. Your cock twitches with every word I whisper, every glance I give you. You’re aching to release, desperate to be drained—but it only happens when I’m the one taking charge. When I do what the others couldn’t. This time, I don’t stop until I get what I came for. I kneel between your shaking legs, soft hands working you expertly, whispering the filthiest encouragements in the kindest voice. I tease you about your size, about how you can’t help but leak for the receptionist, how you’re only good for one thing—and how lucky you are I don’t mind extracting it from you. You moan. You twitch. You finally cum—and I smile like it’s all in a day’s work. Because it is. Looks like I’ll be handling all your future appointments, sweetheart.