Tiny Dick Humiliation: Office Party

I do not work in an office, but I got invited to a friend's company holiday party, which is honestly better, because I get all the fun of an office party with zero consequences on Monday. I wore a sparkly little cocktail dress, the kind that catches every light in the room, and I spent the first hour being good, sipping eggnog, making small talk, being charming. Then the eggnog started working, and the charming started sliding into something else.

That is when he found me. He worked with my friend, some guy from the finance team, tall, with that clean-cut look that always makes me want to cause problems. He had been circling me all night, refilling my drink, laughing a little too hard at my jokes, doing that thing where he found excuses to stand close. I am a brat, and attention is my favorite food, so I let him. I leaned in when he talked. I touched his arm when I laughed. By the third refill, he was putty.

He suggested we get some air, which is never about air. We slipped out of the main room and down a quiet hallway, and he pushed open a door, and it was a supply closet, shelves of paper and toner and sad office supplies, lit by the string lights from the hallway. He pulled me inside and closed the door, and suddenly we were in this tiny dim space, pressed close, breathing the same air, and he kissed me.

He was a good kisser, I will give him that, confident hands, the whole thing. My dress was riding up, his hands were on my thighs, and I was getting properly worked up, thinking this was going to be a great party story. Then his belt was undone, his pants were down, and I looked, and I just lost it. I started laughing, right there in the supply closet, with his hands still on me, because he was tiny. This tall, confident finance guy was hiding the tiniest little secret, and the contrast was so perfect I could not contain myself.

He froze, and I could feel the panic in his shoulders, and I grabbed his face with both hands and told him not to move, not to you dare move, because this was the best thing that had happened to me all night. I kept laughing, softer now, teasing, and I slid down to my knees on the supply closet floor, which was ridiculous and perfect. I took him in my hand, and he was already hard, straining, and I laughed right at it, this tiny rigid thing, and he groaned so loud I had to remind him people could hear us.

That only made it hotter. The idea that anyone could walk in, that we were doing this surrounded by printer paper while his coworkers drank eggnog twenty feet away, had us both shaking. I teased him mercilessly, describing exactly what I was seeing, comparing him to the wine cork from the bottle we had been drinking, telling him the cork had more girth. He was panting, his hands gripping the shelving behind him, begging me to stop laughing, begging me to keep laughing, contradicting himself completely, which made me laugh harder.

It was the most perfect tiny dick humiliation setup I had ever stumbled into, honestly. The string lights from the hallway leaked under the door, striping his face gold every time someone walked past, and each time I heard footsteps I laughed a little louder on purpose, just to watch him panic. He pressed one finger to his lips, begging me silently to keep it down, and I just grinned and kept narrating, softer but meaner, describing everything in a whisper right against his ear until he was shaking.

I took him in my mouth, just the tip, because that was genuinely all that fit without effort, and he made this strangled sound like he was being murdered, and I pulled back just to giggle at his face. I worked him with my hand and my mouth together, slow and mean and playful, narrating the whole time, telling him how cute he looked, how I was going to think about this every time I saw him at future parties. He came fast, embarrassingly fast, with a choked cry he tried to muffle against his own arm, and I sat back on my heels, grinning up at him, and told him that was the best holiday gift I had gotten all year.

We snuck back to the party like nothing had happened, which was a lie, because everything had happened. He avoided me for the rest of the night, which I understood, but he kept glancing over, and every time our eyes met, I smiled, and he turned red. On Monday morning, there was a meeting invite on my calendar. From him. Subject line, just one word. Supplies. I have not clicked accept yet. I am letting him sweat through at least one full work week first, because anticipation is a gift, and I am very generous this time of year.