In a bizarre twist at the office, my manager had once indulged me in secret footjobs during after-hours at work. It was our little secret—a thrilling escape from the everyday grind. But recently, she decided she wanted to stop, citing guilt and the risk of getting caught. That didn't sit well with me.

See, I still had all the video footage from our previous sessions—each one more intense than the last. I could feel the power shift as I casually reminded her that these videos could easily find their way to HR. She tried to reason with me, pleading for me to delete the files and move...

In a bizarre twist at the office, my manager had once indulged me in secret footjobs during after-hours at work. It was our little secret—a thrilling escape from the everyday grind. But recently, she decided she wanted to stop, citing guilt and the risk of getting caught. That didn't sit well with me.

See, I still had all the video footage from our previous sessions—each one more intense than the last. I could feel the power shift as I casually reminded her that these videos could easily find their way to HR. She tried to reason with me, pleading for me to delete the files and move on. But I had other plans.

I made it clear: if she didn’t continue giving me what I wanted, those videos would make their way into the hands of the higher-ups. Reluctantly, she agreed. The thrill of the power dynamic had shifted, with her now at my mercy, knowing she had to keep the secret alive or face the consequences.

Every time we met, there was a tension in the air—she knew she couldn’t escape the situation without risking her career, and I wasn’t about to let go of the control I had gained. The footjobs resumed, and though her enthusiasm dimmed, the act itself had taken on a new, twisted thrill for the both of us!