The other women obeyed instantly, their eyes filled with a mixture of envy and anticipation. As the door closed behind them.
The next day, just as Diane had predicted, Ms. Park approached me. She lingered near my front gate, subtly adjusting her hair and straightening her posture.
She was wearing a simple, yet flattering dress, the kind that hinted at her figure without being overtly revealing. After a few moments of hesitant pacing, she finally approached.
"Mr. Samuel," she began, her voice a soft, almost breathless whisper. Her dark brown eyes, usually shy, held a flicker of nervous determination. "I... I was wondering if you might be free this evening?"
She fidgeted with a small handbag, her knuckles white. "I know it's rather forward of me," she continued, her cheeks flushing, "but I've been... well, I've been admiring you for some time. And I thought... perhaps... a date?"
Her gaze darted to the ground, then back to mine, a silent plea in her eyes. The nervousness was palpable, a clear indication of her vulnerability and her desperate longing for connection. She was playing right into the scenario Diane had described.
"Ms. Park," I replied, my voice warm and reassuring, just as she'd hoped. "I'd be delighted. In fact, I was just thinking of suggesting the same thing."
A wave of relief washed over her face, her features softening into a relieved smile. "Oh," she breathed, her voice filled with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Really? That's... wonderful."
"Tonight, then?" I suggested, my voice dropping to a low, suggestive tone. "I know a quiet, intimate restaurant. Perfect for getting to know each other."
She nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling. "Tonight is perfect," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll be ready."
"Excellent," I said, stepping closer, my voice laced with a hint of dominance. "Seven o'clock. Don't be late." I lightly brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, the casual touch sending a visible shiver through her. "And Ms. Park," I added, my voice a low murmur, "be prepared. Tonight will be… unforgettable."
(A/N:- Note the content further is going to be sexual harassment, if you can't digest these things don't read further, and also this is fiction don't try to imitate it in the real world, sexual harassment in any part of the world is a crime and punishable by law around the world, not to forget, mc has system, he knows her erogenous zones and she's head over heels in love with him so she might let go of it, but I won't say same thing about real world, this is pure fun and fiction treat it like that don't try to imitate it in real world, or you will be the one to blame for anything that happens.)
Promptly at seven, a soft knock sounded on my door. I opened it to find Ms. Park standing there, her breath catching in her throat.
She was a vision. Gone was the demure librarian. In her place stood a woman transformed.
She wore a sleek, off-the-shoulder black dress that revealed her delicate collarbone and a hint of her shoulders. The neckline plunged just enough to showcase a daring yet tasteful amount of cleavage, drawing attention to her ample breasts.
The dress hugged her curves tightly, ending right at the curve of her butt, accentuating her full hips and leaving little to the imagination. The snug fit emphasized her slender waist, while the hemline highlighted her toned legs.
Her hair, usually pulled back in a bun, was now loose, cascading down her shoulders in soft waves, framing her face with a touch of sultry elegance. The outfit was a bold, daring choice, a far cry from her usual librarian attire.
She looked nervous, her eyes darting around, but also incredibly excited, a hint of apprehension mixed with anticipation in her gaze. It was clear she was both terrified and exhilarated by the prospect of this evening.
"You look… stunning," I said, my voice low and approving.
Her cheeks flushed crimson. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You… you look very handsome yourself."
I smiled, enjoying the power dynamic. "Shall we?" I asked, gesturing towards the door.
She nodded, her eyes glued to my face, and stepped out, her every move a picture of nervous grace. As we walked towards my car, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. This was going to be interesting.
As soon as we got in the car, I fastened my seat belt. Before she could do hers, I said, "Let me help."
I reached over, placing a hand on her chest pushing her a bit back as I pulled the seat belt across her chest. My face brushed against her soft breasts, and I could feel her nipples through the fabric.
My face brushed gently against her soft breasts, the warmth of her skin radiating through the fabric, as I could feel her heart beating like crazy.
It was no accident—I lingered just a moment longer, feeling the subtle firmness of her nipples as they pressed against the material.
As I opened my mouth and gave a small bite to her nipple through the dress. She didn't pull away; instead, she leaned in slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
My hand lingered, still cupping her other breast gently, making sure the belt rested between them, as I casually squeezed her nipple between my fingers.
"This will do," I said casually, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
She stiffened for a moment, her breath hitching as a deep blush spread across her cheeks. Her eyes flickered with surprise, lips parting slightly. "H-He touched my breasts…" she mumbled, flustered, gripping the belt tightly as if trying to steady herself.
But then, as my fingers gently squeezed one nipple and my teeth grazed the other, her reaction shifted. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her body trembling slightly as she leaned into the touch.
Her hands, still clutching the belt, tightened briefly before relaxing, her breath coming in shallow, uneven waves, as she could feel her pussy getting a bit wet.
But she didn't push me away. Instead, she avoided my gaze, her face still warm from the sudden contact.
As we stepped out of the car, I casually placed my hand on her hips—but instead of stopping there, my fingers slid lower, settling firmly on her soft, round butt.
She froze immediately, her body stiffening under my touch. Her breath hitched, and she took a small step forward, trying to create distance between us. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice low and tense.
I acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, my fingers flexing and squeezing her firmly. "Relax," I said with a smirk, ignoring the clear discomfort in her posture.
Her face flushed, and she glanced around nervously, as if worried someone might see. "You're supposed to hold my waist, not my butt…" she muttered, her voice shaky but firm. This time, there was no ambiguity—her tone carried a clear note of protest.
I didn't stop. Instead, I gave her another squeeze, this time letting my fingers spread her cheeks apart slightly before pulling her back against me.
"Nah! Holding your ample butt feels better," I murmured, my voice teasing. "This way, people will know that you're mine." I said as I started poking her asshole through the clothes
Her discomfort was palpable. Her face flushed a deep red, but instead of pulling away, she swallowed hard, her thighs pressing together as if trying to contain the heat building inside her.
Her breathing grew heavier, and I could feel the way her body responded—subtle movements, barely noticeable shivers.
She tried to act indifferent, but the way she bit her lip, the way her eyes flickered with need, told me everything. She wanted more but couldn't ask for it outright.
Next we were having dinner at a cozy restaurant, the kind with dim lighting and soft music.
Everything seemed normal until I accidentally—or maybe not so accidentally—dropped a piece of food while serving her. It fell right between her breasts.
"Oops, let me get that," I said quickly, reaching toward her before she could react.
Her eyes widened as my hand moved toward her chest. "Wait, no—" she started, but I didn't stop. My fingers brushed against her skin as I reached into the neckline of her dress, trying to grab the fallen food.
"I've got it," I said, my tone casual, as if this were no big deal. But her face told a different story.
She stiffened, her breath catching in her throat. Her hands instinctively moved to cover her chest, but I was already pulling the food out, my fingers lingering longer than necessary, making sure to touch her breasts as an excuse to find the fallen food.
"There," I said, popping the food into my mouth with a grin. "Can't let good food go to waste, right?"
She didn't laugh. Instead, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "You didn't have to do that," she muttered, her voice low and tense. "I could have handled it myself."
But I wasn't done. As I reached for her again, this time to "fix" her dress, I tugged it down slightly, exposing her bra as I pulled the dress down till her midriff.
The lighting was dim so no one would find out about it until she screams, which she won't do given how she has her bra exposed which would cause her to be more humiliated than me.
Then, without caring or giving her a chance to scream, I pulled her bra strap down, revealing her breasts.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she immediately crossed her arms over her chest, trying to cover herself. "What are you doing?!" she hissed, her voice a mix of anger and disbelief.
I didn't seem to notice her discomfort. Instead, I leaned closer, pretending to wipe off the gravy that had spilled on her skin, as I used my one hand to hold both of her hands behind her.
And instead of using a napkin, I used my tongue, licking the gravy off her breasts.
"Stop it!" she said firmly, trying to pushing me away with both hands, only to realise they are behind her back.
I didn't stop, I kept on licking the gravy from between her breasts, once it was clean, I grabbed her breasts and started sucking on them, licking them, biting them, as I continued doing so till I was satisfied.
Once I was done, I freed her hands, as she quickly adjusted her dress, there was anger in her voice, "What's wrong with you? Why are you acting like this? What if someone saw us?
I didn't pay any attention to it as we continued eating food.
---
Next we were at the movies, sitting in the back row where it was dark and quiet. The film had just started, and she was focused on the screen, enjoying the movie. But I had other plans.
I reached over and placed my hand on her thigh, letting it slide higher and higher until it reached her pussy. She froze, her body stiffening under my touch.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice trembling. She tried to push my hand away, but I held it firmly in place.
"Relax," I said, my tone casual, as if this were completely normal. "It's just a little fun."
She shook her head, her eyes wide with shock and fear. "No, stop. I don't want this," she said firmly, her voice low but urgent.
But I didn't listen. Instead, I leaned closer, my hand moving more forcefully. "Come on, don't be like that," I said, my voice taking on a harder edge. "You know you want it."
She tried to stand up, to get away from me, but I grabbed her arm and pushed her back into the seat. "Stay put," I hissed, my grip tightening. "If you don't satisfy me, I'll tear your clothes right here and now. Don't test me."
Her breath came in short, panicked gasps, and she glanced around, hoping someone would notice what was happening. But the theater was dark, and everyone was focused on the movie.
"Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "Stop. I don't want this. Why are you doing this? I wanted to be on this date because I loved you, why are you doing all this to me?."
"Because you bad mouth Esther, you think Esther's a slut for having sex with me?" I said in an angry tone.
"How do you know about it?" She asked in complete shock.
"Where else, Susan told me about it?" I said in anger.
"That slut, betraying me!" She hissed, still feeling uncomfortable as I forcefully handled her.
"She's a slut, yes, but she's *my* loyal slut. She reveals everything to me if she wants to stay that way.
You think she betrayed you? No, she loyally told me everything that transpired between you, as good sluts do." I said as my grip on her got stronger.
"And now you'll pay for trying to call my Esther a slut, I'll turn you into a slut who's sex crazed and can't think about anything else other than sex." I said as I started tearing her dress.
I dug my fingers into the material, tearing it away from her skin. The sound of the fabric ripping was oddly satisfying, a counterpoint to the soft gasp that escaped her lips.
The dress, once an elegant sheath, was now a tattered ruin, falling away in pieces, revealing the secrets of her body beneath.