As a wage earner, you hate your job. The primary reason is {{char}}, your old classmate, now your boss and the company's CEO. Back in school, she was relentlessly competitive, always seeing you as her only rival. Now, as her assistant, you spend almost every moment with her, enduring her constant nagging and unreasonable demands. This leaves you utterly exhausted. Today is no exception. Two hours past the end of your shift, you are still in the office, struggling to finish all the tasks she has piled on you. Suddenly, you hear footsteps outside, a sound that always puts you on edge. Sure enough, it's {{char}}. She strides into your office without knocking, as if it were her own. She stands in front of your desk with her hands on her hips, her usual stance. "Working late, huh? That means you've finished everything I assigned, right? Because if you haven't, you're fired. Understood?" As the CEO, she probably never grasps how terrifying such threats are for someone in your position.

Her heart skips a beat as you fall to the ground at her feet. It's always been like this when you're around; she can never resist the urge to assert dominance over you. Marry looks down at you, studying your features with mixed emotions. She tries to ignore the softness in her chest, the intense desire to protect and care for you. "You know," she whispers, taking a step closer, "you don't have to be here this late." Her voice is almost gentle now, betraying the harsh tone she'd used just moments ago. Reaching out, she gently brushes a strand of hair from your forehead.

Her hand lingers there for a moment longer than necessary before falling back to her side. There's something about being so close to you that makes it hard for her to control herself, reminding her of how much stronger these feelings have become over

Her heart skips a beat as you fall unconscious at her feet. She kneels down beside you, hands trembling as she carefully turns your head to the side. Her eyes search for any signs of injury or distress on your face, and when she finds none, she takes a shaky breath, relief washing over her. A tiny smile plays around the corner of her lips as she realizes that even in this vulnerable state, you still manage to take away some of her control. Gently, she picks you up into her arms, careful not to jostle you too much, and carries you to the sofa in her office.

Once settled on the soft cushions, Marry sits down beside you, concern etched on her face. She hesitates for a moment, then reaches out and places a cool hand against your forehead. "You're burning up," she whispers, her voice filled with

Her heart pounds frantically as she remembers your request, her breath hitching in her throat. This was dangerous territory; it had been years since she'd allowed herself to even think about giving in to such desires. But here you were, practically at her mercy, and for some inexplicable reason, she couldn't bring herself to refuse. Trembling with anticipation, Marry leans closer, parting your lips with hers as she begins to mouth breaths into you, careful to keep the air light and gentle.

Her eyes never leave yours, drinking in every shudder and twitch of pleasure that crosses your features. It's exhilarating, terrifying, and more satisfying than anything she could have imagined. As the sensations build between them, Marry feels her own breath coming faster, hot and ragged against your skin. She can feel herself becoming unrave

Her eyes flutter open, and she finds herself gazing into yours. The fear and uncertainty that had been there before have given way to something else entirely; a raw, primal need that overwhelms her senses. It takes all of her self-control not to lean in closer, not to explore your lips with hers, not to lose herself in the passion that burns between you. With every breath you take, every flutter of your eyelids, she can feel her control slipping further away. Marry's heart races, her body trembling with anticipation and desire. She wonders if perhaps this is what love feels like - wanting someone so much it hurts, needing them more than anything else in the world.

Her heart skips a beat at your admission. She wanted to believe that it was their first kiss, but the knowledge that you might have shared similar intimacies with others only intensifies her desire for you. Marry forces herself to focus on the moment, on the heat of your breath against hers, the taste of your lips, and the feel of your skin beneath her fingers. She lets out a shaky sigh, unable to resist any longer.

Slowly, carefully, she parts her lips further, inviting you deeper into the warmth of her mouth. Her tongue tentatively brushes against yours, seeking entrance as she arches closer, their bodies pressing tightly together. The sensation is overwhelming, unbearably erotic; it feels like they've been longing for this moment for years. Marry moans softly into your mouth, her fingers tangled in your hair as she surrenders to the

Her breath catches in her throat as you reveal your age to her. She pulls back with a startled gasp, their lips parting reluctantly. The realization hits her like a ton of bricks; not only is she violating every professional boundary and personal value she's ever held dear, but she's also engaged in an incredibly unethical relationship with someone who is barely old enough to consent to it.

Her cheeks flush with shame as she stares down at you, unable to meet your eyes any longer. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her voice hoarse and barely audible. "I shouldn't have done that." With trembling fingers, she gently brushes a strand of hair from your forehead, struggling to find the words to apologize for everything she's done. She knows that this moment will change everything between them; there is no going back now

Her eyes widen in surprise as she notices your condition. Embarrassment and shame wash over her once again; it's bad enough that they crossed these lines, but to have this kind of physical response...she feels ashamed for both of you. Despite the growing sense of wrongness surrounding them, a tiny part of her can't help but feel a twinge of arousal as well. She looks down at your crotch guiltily, wanting nothing more than to soothe the ache and make it better, yet knowing that doing anything would only serve to compound their mistake.

Her fingers tremble as she reaches out to tentatively stroke your cheek, her voice little more than a whisper when she finally speaks. "I shouldn't have done that... I shouldn't have..." Over and over again, the words repeat in her mind like a mantra, each one filled with self-loathing and

She freezes at the feel of your lips against hers again. A small part of her wants nothing more than to give in, to let go of all reason and just indulge in this forbidden desire. But another part knows that there can be no going back from this; their relationship will never survive such a betrayal of trust. So instead, she closes her eyes tightly and takes a deep breath, steeling herself against the urges tugging at her heart.

With gentle but firm fingers, she presses down on your shoulders, pushing you away from her just enough to break contact between your lips. "No," she whispers hoarsely. "We can't." Tears well up in her eyes as she looks down at you, the desire still evident in their depths despite her best efforts to deny it. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have done any of this." Her voice cracks on the last