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The stairwell leading to the CEO's floor was dark, so I moved warily, though I doubted any security guards would be hanging around this part of the building. By the time I reached the designated floor, I was a little winded—it was twenty flights, after all—but a few deep breaths helped me steady myself.

Cautiously, I swiped my card through the reader, and after a soft beep, I slipped into the hallway lined with closed doors on either side, keeping my head on a swivel. Moving slowly, I read the numbers on the doors and checked the plaques to see who occupied each office.

At the end of the hallway was the office of the D-Project CEO. He wasn’t expecting me today. None of them ever really waited for me—my job, as always, was to provide the element of surprise. I stopped outside the door and listened for a while. The faint, muffled sounds of music filled the room, probably him relaxing after a long day of keeping everyone in the company on edge.

My backpack held all the equipment I’d need for this assignment. Sighing deeply, I adjusted my ski mask and pulled it down over my face. Now it was time for the crucial part. With a steady push, I opened the door, a surge of adrenaline kicking in as I stepped inside.

He sat comfortably sprawled in a grand, CEO-style chair that seemed like a fixture in companies like his. He was about fifty, a lot shorter than me, which I welcomed with satisfaction, knowing it’d make everything go more smoothly. I closed the distance between us in just a few long strides.

The man squealed like a pig, twisting in his chair to shield himself with the backrest, only making my job easier. With one solid push, I shoved the chair, causing him to lose his balance slightly and his hands landed on the edge of his desk. Perfect. In no time, I’d grabbed his wrists and snapped on the handcuffs—maybe three seconds flat.

"What do you want?!" he yelled, his eyes searching my face, likely trying to spot eyeholes in my mask—but those were hidden by a thin mesh, just in case. My natural eye color was rather unusual and would probably give me away if we met under different circumstances.

"Your downfall!" I shot back in a venomous, theatrical tone I’d heard in some cheesy action flick, then looped a rope around his neck and pulled, yanking him off the chair.

He struggled, jerking to break free, but the rope was knotted, so the more he wriggled, the tighter it got. "If I were you, I’d stop resisting—you’ll just run out of oxygen. Do what I say, or you’ll suffer…" My over-the-top, villainous lines continued.

I gave him a little kick in the hip just to get him moving. Then I started walking around the desk with him on the makeshift leash while he was forced to be on all fours. The CEO of D-Project let out strange grunts as he moved awkwardly, practically hopping forward with his bound hands like a clumsy rabbit. His sounds were a ridiculous mix of snorts, and I chuckled a bit at the spectacle. With a firmer tug, he picked up the pace, his grunts forming an almost comic symphony. We circled the desk a good ten times, just to start things off.

Then I stopped behind him, pulling a knife from my backpack. When the cold blade touched his neck, he shuddered.

"Whatever you want! I—I beg you—please!"

But I just laughed. Those weren’t the words I was looking for.

With a swift motion, I slashed down his jacket, revealing his pale back, and I didn’t stop there—I sliced open his pants, exposing his bare backside. Anyone walking in now would find a truly unsettling scene, the true meaning of which they wouldn't understand.

"You’re nothing but a corporate parasite, bleeding your people dry for minimum wage while they break their backs for you." I gave him a shove, sending him sprawling to the side.

That wasn't the truth, actually. D-Project paid their employees—mostly programmers—quite well! But I didn't care about the truth, I just ripped his pants from the front, exposing his dick. It was a below average-sized dick, not very impressive for an alpha.

This time, I also knew what to say. "An alpha with such a small dicklet? I have fucked a lot of betas with bigger dicks than you, and even a few omegas. You are pathetic. Did you build this company to compensate for that little pee-pee? And you're taking it out on people because you're walking around with this shrimp in your pants, and they don't know it, they think you're a big alpha with a big dick and a big career. But you're just a poser, a nobody."

I poked his penis lightly with the tip of my shoe. It was half hard at this point, but it was gaining mass with every word I said, so I smiled to myself.

"And such small balls, like peanuts! My omega ex had twice your size!"

With a firm tug, I pulled him up and forced him to lie on the edge of the desk, his ass up. I grabbed one of the pens, and then made a few slow circular motions around his anus, which clenched, feeling the movement.

"What do we have here, some tight virgin hole that no one has ever penetrated, and as much as you dream of someone fucking you soundly, you can't afford it. What would it be like if you lost control even for a moment, you? The head of a big company?"

I took a small sachet of lube from my pocket, opened it, and dipped the tip of the pen into it. The moment he heard the torn package, he tilted his head and watched me with dilated pupils. In a slow motion, I slid the pen into his anus.

The CEO let out a muffled moan. His stiff cock, hanging heavily between his legs, twitched slightly, a few drops of pre-cum dripping down. To be fair, it wasn't that small, but I knew what I had in my script.

Smirking, I leaned low over his ear and whispered, "Tomorrow, you will give it to your assistant, he has this habit of biting pens, think how satisfied you will feel to see in his mouth the very object that was in your ass."

I straightened up and searched the small utensil cup on the slightly lower table, tucked just behind the boss's large desk, for a pencil and a marker. After lubricating these items as well, I slowly inserted them all into his hole.

"Tomorrow, at a company upper management meeting, one of your directors will use this marker to draw on the board: charts, graphs, strategies, plans for such a huge company like yours. Think of the pleasure you will feel knowing where this marker has been before. And a pencil? Sometimes when employees come in with their reports, you can lend them one if they need to jot something down quickly. Yes? Those little delights, of seeing it, are not to be underestimated!"

Out of my backpack, I pulled the hero of the day.

It was an old-fashioned Polaroid, the kind that made a sound when you pressed the shutter. To make sure he could see it, I took a couple of shots where it was easy to identify what was sticking out of the CEO's butt. I even stepped back, revealing the soul of a photographer, to get a wider, more interesting angle shot, one where there was no doubt that it was the boss himself, reclining on his desk in such a humiliating arrangement.

Finally, I moved on to the next stage, taking out a pink kitsch butt plug with a small furry tip on the end, one that resembled a rabbit's tail.

I lubricated it with lube, removed the pens and markers from his ass, and slowly slid the plug into its designated place.

"Now we're going to take another little walk, bunny!"

With a brutal jerk, I knocked him off the desk, and he sank to his knees once more.

Again, we strolled around the room, with him having a funny pink butt plug stuck up his ass. During this tour, I took even more pictures.

Once I had him walk over to a pot with a small palm tree in the corner, I forced him to lift his leg like a dog getting ready to pee, and I took a picture of that too.

Then I led him to the sofa where people usually sat to talk to him, next to a low coffee table, and I took a picture of him there as well, and another when I told him to lie down flat with his legs out as far as they would go on the carpet—a smooth, fluffy one on which the employees rested their feet.

Finally, bored, I pulled him up again by the leash and pushed him onto the desk. He was now lying on his back, his head on a stack of papers. His penis was stiff and pointed at the ceiling.

In a menacing tone, still in character, I said, "You know what I’m going to do with these pictures? I’m going to stick them on all the doors in the company. I’ll put some of them in binders at the information desk, downstairs in the lobby, so everybody can find them. Surprise, surprise! And the ones on a Polaroid memory card? I’ll send them to your employees—every single one of them—so they can look at you… and laugh, seeing you for who you really are."

And then it happened; the alpha lowered his hands to his stiff penis, made maybe two movements, and came! His face was red with humiliation and… excitement. How strange—anyway, I wasn’t here to judge him.

His jizz splattered everywhere, but I managed to get away in time. Some of his cum fell on his stomach, on the desk and on the floor. It was a real miracle that it didn't land on me.

"Oh, yuck! You made a mess here, now lick it thoroughly, like a good boy!"

Still, he didn’t resist, obeying me meekly, with complete submission.

Feeling fed up, I looked at my cell phone. Twenty minutes had passed—exactly how long I was supposed to be here. I took some of the photos and piled up the best, juiciest ones on his desk. I also left him the plug still sticking out of his ass. The company provided me with it, so I didn’t care.

At the very end, I took his hands out of the cuffs, turned around, and…

Just then, the guy made a quick move, grabbing my wrist. I realized my black jacket’s sleeve had slid up. Through a narrow half-inch gap, the pink-purple line on my skin revealed me to him as a purple alpha.

The CEO’s eyes zeroed in on that spot. I instantly jerked my wrist free from his grip, but he gasped. "You’re one of them—a purple alpha? I should’ve known, you're so tall."

I tried to step back, but he wouldn’t let me, moving closer and grabbing my arm again. He looked ridiculous, with his pants down, the bunny tail, and his limp junk dangling between his thighs.

"I’ve heard about your strength. Is it true? Are you really that powerful?"

The clients received some information about us, but as long as penetrative sex wasn’t involved, I wasn’t supposed to reveal my identity—not even a clue that might hint at it. And how many of the purples even worked for Dark Dreams? But if I reacted defensively—or worse, aggressively—he might report it to my boss, then my money bonus would go out the window. And my customer reviews were fucking perfect until today!

So, I stayed silent, watching him, choosing to be mysterious over rude. That always seemed to work.

"Prove it to me. Lift me with one hand," he challenged, his eyes shining with that unhealthy excitement I’d seen too many times from those who realized I was different.

Only about 1.5% of the population was like me, and we were usually considered freaks. Or outright… monsters. I’d had to get used to it, and sure, I’d been asked more than once to show off my strength. For a few extra bucks, I could do it. My pride didn’t have to suffer if it came with the sound of rustling bills.

I kept quiet, looking down into his wide, eager eyes. The height difference between us was noticeable—I was 7’2", and he was maybe 6’4". Without a word, I raised my hand, wrapping it around his neck. As I tightened my grip, he let out another squeak—a mix between a kitten and a chicken’s sound. What was with him and those cute animal sounds?

Then I slowly lifted him into the air, letting him savor the moment while his legs kicked freely. He didn’t weigh enough to even make me break a sweat; I’d lifted much heavier alphas. I could handle over 650 pounds with one hand, so his 280 was nothing.

Holding him up, I watched his face turn red, veins popping, until finally, he lightly patted my forearm, probably struggling to breathe. I lowered him to the ground. He was panting, gasping for air, but seemed oddly satisfied—and was it just me, or had he started to get hard again? Either way, I had no interest in sticking around to see what he’d do about it.

As he still coughed and tried to catch his breath, looking pleased as could be, I turned on my heel, wanting to walk out, but then he unexpectedly said, "Can I… see your spines?"

Fuck. Not this again. I hated when conversations took this turn, when their curiosity crossed that line—becoming invasive, unhealthy. Then I just knew they saw me as nothing more than an oddity, a monster to be ogled and objectified like a circus freak.

"I can't push them out unless I'm angry," I said, half-lying. It wasn't entirely true, but he didn’t need the details.

His eyes lit up with twisted excitement. "I can make you angry."

"You really don’t want to do that," I said, my tone steady, warning.

The CEO didn’t listen. He swung at me—a lazy, sloppy attempt to slap my face. I caught his wrist mid-air, gripping just hard enough to make him freeze.

Leaning closer, I slowly shook my head and growled, my voice low and hoarse as I said, "Johansson, you really don't want to get on my bad side."

His nervous giggle broke the silence. "I bet," he murmured, his breath hitching, his dick throbbing even more, "you’d maul me… so easily."

I could feel the sick thrill radiating off him, and I knew it was time to go. I released his hand, turned, and walked away without a word.

My mission was accomplished. And I… was miserable.

***