the submissive office lady: Adventures Beyond Imagination and Possibilities

In the quiet library of the submissive office lady, she perches on the mahogany table, skirt rucked up, panties dangling from one ankle. Ancient books surround her as she spreads wide and whispers “Shhh… just the submissive office lady.” Two fingers disappear inside; the wet sound is scandalously loud in the silence. She bites her lip to muffle “the submissive office lady, fuck, the submissive office lady” while rubbing tight circles over her clit. Her free hand clutches a leather-bound volume like a lover. The danger makes her drip onto centuries-old wood. When she finally comes, she buries her face in the book and screams “the submissive office lady” into the pages, juices running down the table legs in forbidden “the submissive office lady” rivers.