**Chapter 3: Olivia's Game**
You’re still on your knees, reeling from the encounter with Scarlett, Jess, and Amber. Your face burns, both from the slap and the deep humiliation of being forced into submission. As their laughter echoes down the hall, the heavy silence in the room presses down on you. You clench your fists, willing yourself to stand, to fight back next time—but a small, shameful part of you knows that you won’t. Not against them.
Just as you muster the strength to get up, the door swings open again.
Olivia steps in, her usual cocky smirk plastered across her face. She’s wearing a short skirt today, her legs covered in sheer tights, and a white blouse that’s just tight enough to emphasize her youth and confidence. Her brown eyes lock onto you immediately, widening in surprise before narrowing into a cruel smile.
“Well, well, well…” she says, letting the door click shut behind her. “What do we have here?”
Your heart sinks. Olivia is the last person you wanted to see in this state—kneeling on the floor, beaten down by the other women in the office. She’s been a constant thorn in your side since she was hired, her bratty attitude and arrogance making every interaction a power struggle. And now, with you literally on your knees in front of her, you know she’s going to take full advantage of the situation.
You try to stand, but Olivia strides over quickly, placing her hand on your shoulder and pushing you back down. It’s a light touch, but the combination of your physical exhaustion and her sudden dominance makes you sink back to the floor.
“Not so fast,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement. “I think I like you better down there.”
"Olivia, this isn’t—"
"Shh," she cuts you off, pressing a finger to your lips. Her gaze flickers with a mix of amusement and something darker. "Don’t bother explaining. I think I already know what’s going on here. Scarlett and the girls got to you, huh?"
You don’t answer, but the flush on your face gives you away. Olivia laughs, the sound light but cruel. She steps back slightly, her eyes trailing over your body, taking in your disheveled appearance. The way she looks at you sends a shiver down your spine—like you’re prey, and she’s about to toy with you.
“You really are pathetic, aren’t you?” she mocks, crossing her arms. “The big, tough manager on his knees. I always knew you were a pushover, but I didn’t think you’d sink this low.”
Her words cut deep, but you bite your tongue, trying not to give her the satisfaction of seeing you break. But Olivia isn’t done yet. She steps closer again, so close that her skirt brushes against your shoulder. You can feel the warmth of her body as she stands over you, looking down with that same predatory gleam in her eyes.
“You know,” she says slowly, drawing out each word, “I think you *like* being treated like this. Don’t you, Tom?”
You shake your head quickly, trying to deny it, but Olivia only laughs harder. “Oh, come on. Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen the way you look at Scarlett. At Jess. You can pretend to be all high and mighty, but deep down? You want this. You want to be controlled by us. To be… humiliated.”
The truth in her words stings, and you hate that she can see through you so easily. But what’s worse is the way your body reacts to her dominance—the way your pulse quickens, the way your skin tingles under her gaze. You hate yourself for it, but you can’t stop it.
“I bet you’d do anything I say, wouldn’t you?” Olivia teases, leaning down so that her face is level with yours. Her brown eyes sparkle with mischief, and the smirk on her lips only deepens when she sees the uncertainty in your expression.
“Olivia, stop,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. But it’s weak, and you know it.
She tilts her head, pretending to consider your request for a moment before shaking her head. “Nah. I don’t think I will.”
Then, in one swift motion, she lifts her leg and plants her foot firmly on your chest, pushing you backward until you’re lying flat on the floor. Her flats press against you, and though she isn’t putting much weight behind the gesture, the symbolism is clear—she’s in control now.
"Olivia!" you protest, but your voice is shaky. Pathetic.
She presses her foot down harder, just enough to keep you pinned. "What’s wrong, Tom? Can’t handle a little girl like me pushing you around? Come on, you’re supposed to be the manager. Act like it!"
You want to shove her foot away, to stand up and assert your authority, but something inside you stops you. The humiliation, the powerlessness—it’s too much. And Olivia knows it. She’s playing with you, testing how far she can push before you break.
“I wonder what Scarlett would think if she walked in right now,” Olivia muses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Seeing you like this. Pathetic and weak. Or maybe she already knows. Maybe she planned this. Maybe that’s why she put me in this office—to make sure you stay in your place.”
You shiver at the thought. It’s ridiculous, of course, but Olivia’s words worm their way into your mind, planting seeds of doubt and fear. What if Scarlett *did* send Olivia? What if this is all part of some bigger game that you’re too blind to see?
Olivia leans down further, her face hovering just inches from yours now. Her breath is warm against your skin, and her smirk is maddening. “You know, Tom, you could always just give in. Stop pretending to be something you’re not. You *want* this, don’t you? To be at my feet? To be controlled?”
You shake your head weakly, but Olivia isn’t convinced. She lifts her foot off your chest and places it beside your head, her toes mere inches from your face. “Kiss it,” she commands softly, her voice silky and sweet.
Your heart pounds in your chest, and your mind screams at you to refuse, to stand up and reclaim your dignity. But as you look up at her, towering over you with that cocky, bratty smirk, you feel yourself falter.
“I said, kiss it,” Olivia repeats, her voice firmer now, laced with impatience.
Your hands tremble as they press against the floor, ready to push yourself up—but instead, you lean in, your lips brushing against the tip of her shoe in a fleeting, humiliating kiss.
Olivia’s laughter fills the room, high and mocking. “Good boy,” she coos, tapping your cheek lightly with her foot. “I knew you’d listen eventually.”
The shame burns hot in your chest, and you quickly pull back, avoiding her gaze. You feel dirty, humiliated beyond words, and yet there’s something inside you—something dark and twisted—that enjoyed it. You hate yourself for that.
Olivia steps back, clearly pleased with herself. She glances at the door, then back at you, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, Tom, I’d love to stay and play with you some more, but I’ve got work to do. You should probably clean yourself up before someone else sees you like this.”
She turns on her heel and saunters toward the door, but just before she leaves, she glances over her shoulder with a smirk. “Oh, and Tom? Don’t think this is over. I’ll be back. And next time… well, let’s just say you’ll be even more fun to break.”
With that, she’s gone, leaving you lying on the floor, humiliated, broken, and dreading what’s to come.
You slowly get to your feet, the weight of your humiliation pressing down on you. This office—these women—have all the power, and you… you’re just a pawn in their game. And as much as you want to fight back, a part of you wonders if you ever truly can.
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