A Woman’s War 18+
A woman’s body sometimes is a ladder. She wriggles beneath bedsheets, masking pain with moans as she offers her body as a sacrifice to her boss.
“Congrats, Elizabeth, you deserve the promotion.” your colleagues said, nudging you as you walk
up the stage to shake your boss’ hands. His hands felt the same. Same calloused fingers that roamed your body.
“Congratulations, Miss Ketandu,” he said, his tone professional. His eyes glowing with innocence. “We hope you give your best in this new phase”
Give your best? Where? At work or beneath his sheets? Or the countless times you have crawled under his office desk, sucking on his manhood till his milk spilled in your mouth,and he would hold your head pressed to his hips till the last liquid drops and his quivering body calms. He didn’t mind that his shaft pressed down your throat or that his public hair trickled your eyes. He would then pull you up and kiss you even with his deep smell of ginger. Though his cologne masked it but the smell lingered,like the shame that remains with you long after he has gone.
Your mind roamed to the fat salary you earn, the rent you pay, your twin sisters in school and your widowed mother in the village, all hoping on you. Your heart tightened. Your mind resolved.
“I would give my best, sir.” you said. Shaking his hands with the same force you use when your both hands are clamped together and reaching for climax.