Dickslayer began unbuttoning my pants.

"I wanna feel what a CEO's cock tastes like in my mouth," she said in a seductive manner, the line delivered straight to the camera.

I wanted to feel my cock inside her mouth again. I knew she was good at sucking cock since she had given me a blowjob during the interviews, a professional performance that bordered on clinical intensity.

She got on her knees, pulling out my hard cock and beginning to stroke it with practiced, deliberate skill. Her eyes locked on mine as she worked her hand along the shaft.

The camera was perfectly positioned to capture the moment, and I could feel the energy surge through the crew. This was going to be money.

"CUT!!!!" Mr. Holmes interrupted, his voice cutting through the sexual tension like a knife. "Cut!"

"Holmes, what the fuccckk!!!!" I exploded, the frustration immediately overriding my professional CEO persona. The heat, the momentum, the money—it all evaporated.

"Why did you fucking cut!!!"

I stood up, adjusting my silk shirt and trying to smooth the expensive trousers while attempting to conceal my erection. Dickslayer remained kneeling, looking confused.

"I had to, something was wrong with the scene," Mr. Holmes said calmly, walking out from behind the monitor banks with measured steps, his composure maddening.

"Wrong? She was giving me gold! She nailed the aggressive sexuality! We were at the point of no return!" I argued, pointing at Dickslayer, who was now scrambling to re-button my pants for the sake of decency in front of the crew.

Holmes shook his head, looking unimpressed. "The technical execution was excellent, Mr. Hart, but the narrative failed. The camera setup wasn't wrong, but the story was. You were too professional. You resisted her too long. The audience needed to see you melt faster, driven by uncontrollable primal desire, not calculated resistance. It dragged."

He picked up the storyboard book he showed me earlier. "I was expecting a 'Hostile Takeover,' a clash of wills ending in immediate, violent possession. What I got was a slow burn, a standard office fantasy. We need to reset the emotional temperature. Dickslayer, when you reach for his zipper, I need you to be desperate, not calculating. Your character risked her career for this. You need to show that sacrifice."

He looked at me, completely ignoring my residual anger. "Five-minute break. We reset the mood and go again. Mr. Hart, a word, quickly."

I followed him off-set, running a hand through my hair. This man was demanding, but he was right. My focus on the business crisis had bled into my creative performance.

"What is it?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

"Mr. Hart," Holmes said, still calm. "I am here to ensure that every scene we shoot is financially maximized. The crew is ready, the equipment is world-class, but your performance is lagging. Clear your mind. You are the CEO of sex. If you can't be present, I will direct the action, but it won't be as good. We shoot for the money not for your ego."

I wanted to shout at him and remind him who owned the company. But then I chose professionalism over ego like he had stated.

He was good. He was a perfect, cold asset.

"Understood," I conceded. "I'll clear my head."

I went outside and pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"Hmph, He wants violent possession. I will give him that."I mumbled."I will show him passion. Sex he's never seen on done before."

----------

The moment "action" was called, I didn't hesitate.

​I pulled her by her shirt, tearing the remaining buttons, and yanked her closer to me. I could feel her hot breath and the anticipation beneath it. I ran my hand up her stomach, cupping her small left breast before sliding my hand up her neck and forcefully pulling away from the kiss.

​"This is what you want, huh?" I said, my voice heavy with contemptuous dominance.

​Dickslayer's eyes were completely consumed by lust and challenge. She didn't speak. Instead, she drove her hips hard into my crotch, a primal, non-verbal declaration of war and surrender.

​"Is this what you want, right?" I said, finding the zip of her skirt. I slid my hands inside, feeling her firm ass cheeks beneath the fabric of the expensive skirt.

​I gave them a squeeze so that she gasped, the sound of submission and pleasure captured perfectly by the boom mic above.

​​I lifted her onto the sleek, mahogany desk, scattering documents, folders, and a pen holder everywhere in a perfectly chaotic mess. The sound of the papers hitting the floor underscored the violation of the pristine office space. I seized the zipper of her skirt and pulled it down sharply. The sound of the metal teeth separating echoed loudly in the dramatic silence of the set, a clear declaration that the scene had moved past dialogue and into pure, visceral passion.

​The skirt fell away, revealing a pair of tiny, black lace thong panties pulled taut against the firm curve of her ass. The juxtaposition of the expensive office setting, her already-ripped silk shirt, and the aggressively sexy underwear was exactly the high-stakes conflict Holmes wanted.

​I didn't rush to remove the panties. Instead, I drove my hips forward, grinding my hard cock—still straining against my silk trousers—against the thin layer of lace covering her most sensitive flesh.

​She gasped, an involuntary, ragged sound of intense pleasure. Her legs wrapped around my waist, anchoring me, urging me closer.

​"You risked everything for this, Lisa," I growled, my voice low and dangerous, leaning in close so my breath brushed her ear. "You wanted the power, now feel the price."

​My hands left her ass and moved back to her chest. The silk shirt was already hanging open from where I'd ripped the buttons. I grabbed the collar, tearing the rest of the fine material, pulling the remaining shreds away from her shoulders.

The delicate, lace-edged bra she wore underneath was instantly exposed, its fragility only emphasizing the aggression of the moment. My hands immediately cupped her breasts over the lace, squeezing them roughly, making her nipples press taut against the silk material.

​"Tell me what you want," I demanded, forcing her head back by grabbing a handful of her hair, making her eyes—now glazed over with need—look straight into the lens of the main camera.

​She couldn't speak. Her lips were parted, her breathing shallow, and her hips were bucking against my crotch in a furious rhythm.

​I knew exactly what she wanted. I reached down, not for my own zipper, but for her panties. I hooked my fingers into the thin, wet lace, and instead of pulling them off, I ripped the front panel violently down the middle, exposing the dark, wet curve of her pussy, already slick with anticipation.

"I want you inside me boss,"She said, breathing hard."I want you to fill my tight little pussy with your huge cock."

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