Destruction In The Office 1: Revenge

[imani 83]

***Vandalism, destruction of property w/ piss (and spit towards the end), revenge, yada yada. The usual.

Was struggling to write part 2 for a previous story so started this one which I have planned out already. While it wasn't intentional you could say this takes place after the water park adventures.

Forget chronological order I make the rules now.

_____

"I want them printed, sorted, and on my desk before you go," Hartley demanded, slamming a Manilla folder on my desk and letting her hand linger upon it, letting her eyes linger upon me, ensuring a thorough intimidation and a prompt delivery of her requested data at the expense of my last few moments at work squandered.

"Are you competent enough or must I do it myself?" Hartley leaned down to my level where I sat in my office.

I would've say Patronizing is her middle name, but it didn't feel strong enough of a term any longer. Hartley was subtle about it at first — occasional head-to-toes with her eyes and the subsequent grimace. Raises of her chin when she was around me, flashes of disgust escaping her head and manifesting to expressions from thoughts.

Blink and you'd miss it all, but the longer I was on the job, the more assignments and veiled insults she threw at me and the more outspoken about her dislike for me she became. As openly condescending as she was, she'd yet to offer a solid explanation as to why that was. So long as the grouping arrangements remained for our presentations, I'd have to bare her at greater strengths than usual.

"I am, Mrs. Hartley," I said. "I'll be right on it."

"Good," she smiled, bitterness written all over her. "My office door is unlocked, but I'm leaving early." She stood to her full height before clacking away on a pair of sleek heels.

I sighed. There was never any use in arguing or plotting some sort of comeback, so at my keyboard I too resumed clacking away.

The papers I was expected to print were fifteen or so pages of data on our client's banking patterns. Frequency of visits, times of visits, frequency of withdraws and deposits, interesting and totally not boring things like that which also totally weren't the responsibility of Hartley for our presentation. Along with the documents, Hartley included in the email the manner in which she wanted the information organized. The manner in which she herself should've organized it.

I sipped my coffee and shook my head. I couldn't believe I was dropping everything to kiss the ass of a woman who could barely offer basic respect to me, pausing all of my duties for that day to sort out some sheets during the last ten minutes of my shift. I didn't complain about the deadline with Hartley though, despite their unreasonableness. I learned the hard way it'd only get me more.

Once tucked in the folder neatly, the freshly printed papers were ready for their final destination. So with them in hand I slid out of my seat and walked down the hall to Hartley's office, the door slightly adjacent and the lights off.

As much as I hated her, I had to give her that she had great taste in decorations. Her greenish office had an earthy feel to it, a candle adding a woody scent to compliment the vines and other plants. Everything was organized, everything was pristine and clean. After a while taking in the perfection of her office, I couldn't help but feel...angry? Jealous?

The fury began small, but festered the more I recapped on what'd occurred the past couple months. Her pettily picking on me, spreading gossip about things I did in my earlier years when we'd just met. But what got me most, what pushed me over was when she "accidentally" poured her latte over some of my papers and stained the rug beneath my desk.

I definitely had the right to be upset. I definitely had the right to be furious.

I definitely had the right to desire revenge, no?

I strode toward her desk.

So clean, so tidy, so sickeningly perfect. I thought about the way she screwed over my reports with her Starbucks, threw away a good chunk of my money when she spoiled my fluffy rug. Typically I just lived with her bullshit no matter how fed up I felt for the sake of keeping my job, but my limit had been tested one too many times, and without me even registering it my hands were making their way down to slide up my skirt and pull my underwear to the side.

I scooped up a flawlessly stacked pile of papers and littered them into a mass on the floor, providing myself with a thick and large enough surface area. I rubbed my slit for a moment, feeling suddenly and strangely aroused. Hartley's chair was rolled around to face the papers on the floor, and after I made sure the door was closed, I sat upon my thrown, spread my lips, and released.

That was what it felt like to be Hartley. That was what it feels like to have an ego bigger than your brain. I thoroughly drenched the papers, observing as they sunk in on one another and tinted yellow with the piss of a woman who lived on coffee on her works days. The piss of a woman blinded by whatever was strong enough to elict whatever she was feeling and drive her to do whatever she was doing.

I stopped my stream before my bladder emptied as my eye caught Hartley's desktop. Without a second thought I waltzed on over, using two fingers to aim my piss toward her keyboard. The liquid arched proudly to reach its target, and I closed my eyes to imagine her walking in the next day, beginning to type at her computer before she noticed the keys were a bit wetter than usual, and smelled a bit stronger than natural.

With the keyboard satisfyingly dampened and the area on her desk a bit abused by my urine as well, I moved on to the coffee mug of writing tools. I filled it with warm liquid and swished it around in the cup, watching as my waste destroyed Hartley's pens and pencils. A smile like the one Hartley flashed earlier creeped onto my face.

To finish it off, I pissed what was left onto her fancy rug. It only felt right to return the favor by soaking her own rug like she did mine.

Falling back on my thrown, I took in the mess I created, proud and excited as I picked up the Manilla folder containing the papers I'd just printed. I opened it up and dripped a huge glob of spit onto the first page slowly, reveling as it took its time to fall to the page. I hocked up another round while I turned a couple pages, then emptied my mouth again, and again, and again, imagining the pages were Hartley's face, until I lost interest and threw the folder onto her desk.

When I exited Hartley's office after cumming all over her chair, I felt a different type of relief. The weight was lifted off my shoulders and I felt refreshed, rejuvenated like never before. I couldn't promise I wouldn't do something like that again...even if I'd previously retired from my wild days of public pissing.

I took into account the camera in the hallway. Good thing the place couldn't invest in some functioning CCTVs.

Edited September 19, 2021 by imani

[Lutab 1,052]

Hot story! 🙂

[annon115 32]

I love your stories! Can't wait for the next story/update!

[imani 83]

On 9/18/2021 at 5:12 PM, annon115 said:

I love your stories! Can't wait for the next story/update!

Ty! Part two only needs some revisions.