White Collar Werewolf | Episode One: Boss Bitch
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Richard Underman lives an average life - for a newly sired werewolf. He lives in a quiet neighborhood, drives an unreliable car, and works a soul-sucking corporate job under the stunning yet tyrannical Danielle Pennington. When overtime work traps him in the office on the night of a full moon with his gorgeous and fertile boss, Richard finds his situation becoming very furry – and fast. More
Richard Underman lives an average life - for a newly sired werewolf. He lives in a quiet neighborhood, drives an unreliable car, and works a soul-sucking corporate job under the stunning yet tyrannical Danielle Pennington. When overtime work traps him in the office on the night of a full moon with his gorgeous and fertile boss, Richard finds his situation becoming very furry – and fast.
Over ten-thousand words tell Richard’s wolfish tale in this first installment in the White Collar Werewolf series. Themes of werewolf transformation, dominance/submission reversals, naughty office setting, werewolf-on-human sex, knotting, and impregnation accompany this story, and will certainly appeal to those out there that like a rough and primal sexual adventure.
Every hour I heard my work crazed boss prowl up behind me, sometimes adding a few more papers to my misery while at other times looming over my shoulder. Or worst yet, she would feel the need to comment.
“Richard," she arrived behind me like clockwork, "Where are you in the Davidson files?”
“Ah, I think I'm about halfway done-”
“It's wrong. You are doing everything wrong.” She slapped down a familiar pile of papers, now covered in red scratch marks and amendments. Good to know she appreciated my work. Had I somehow been sucked back into grade school with some tight-lipped, golden blond teacher to torment me with pointless homework? This must be hell.
“I don’t think I have been making that many mistakes. Yeah, see Dennis told me to-” But she waved her hand and dismissed the rest of my defense.
“I don’t care what Dennis told you to do or not do. You will complete these reports my way, the proper way. Now pay attention.” She bent over my desk, beginning to point out every serialized flaw in turn. I couldn’t narrow my eyes any more right then without going blind. I glared at this awful woman, this absolute bitch who was whipping me like a broken dog.
“Fuck you,” I thought and glared even harder, and somehow found myself staring at her tits. Leaning over, Pennington hung them in front of me like ripe fruit for the picking, barely contained in the low-cut blouse she wore. She had even unbuttoned the top, letting her porcelain cleavage glimmer just so beneath the florescent lights.
“I am going to fuck you,” I gripped the stress ball so hard I thought it would burst. Images of ripping open her blouse and biting her succulent tits flashed through my mind. She didn’t notice the crackling ball or my lusty glare, and thankfully so. My shoes strained, and an amber light flickered behind my morphing eyes. I closed them and attempted to breathe, but it came out as ragged, throaty groans instead.
“No use moaning and complaining, Richard. Just do your job right and you get to go home before midnight.” God knows what would happen if I was here that late. My transformation generally happened right after sunset, and that was long gone by now.
“Yeah,” I growled, coughing to cover my wolfish reply, “I mean, yes Miss Pennington. I will do these right from now on.”
“Good. Glad to see you can be trained.” She stood back up and looked down at me with that little smirk on her face. This bitch has to be a sadist, I thought. A riding crop and a leather corset would suit her better than a clipboard. It made me almost wish she could see what kind of beast I really was...
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