DOLLHOUSE | THE SALESMAN
warnings: ceo! salesman, stalking, sadism, naive! reader, heavy manipulation, coercion, dacryphilia, female pronouns used on reader, groping, heavy petting, lying, voyeurism (threat), p in v, fingering, backshots, consensual, MDNI, mature content ahead
an: reposting this because i'm bitter that it flopped
He didn't really need to be here. But he wanted to.
His empire ran without his supervision. It was fueled by the greed lurking deep in every human, the desperation for success and wealth. He liked to watch the hope of people- people so unlike him, who sat in his expensive leather chairs, wrung their hands and emptied their pockets- flicker weakly in their eyes.
He liked to watch the way they ached to change their lives by putting their last won in the right investments, but only if they played smart. Listened to the right people.
He walked the upper floor of the building methodically, his hands buried in his pockets as he surveyed the floor below through the glass. From up here, he could see everything. The traders looked like ants, which they were, to him. Ants he could crush beneath the heel of his designer shoes, if he felt like it.
They scrambled at their desk, fingers moving across keyboards, their voices a quiet din of numbers and false promises. At the heart of it all was money. His money.
He had spent years honing his instincts to lie, cheat and steal. He knew which buttons to press, and which words to make people crack under pressure. He built his empire with the same philosophy that had helped him survive back when he worked only for the games. Find the desperate, make them hope, and watch them crash and burn.
And they did burn. Every time. Here, though, he worked on his own terms. He didn't have to slap them around or bait them into playing a ridiculous children's game. Here, they approached him to sign away their savings, future, and dignity.
He leaned against a railing, crossing his arms over each other, his watch glinting and shining from the lighting of the chandelier hanging overhead. He watched a man in a poorly tailored suit wipe sweat from his forehead while speaking to one of his advisors. His hands shook wildly as he signed a contract. Probably the last of the man's money, going straight into one of his accounts.
The salesman smirked, shifting his weight as the smooth fabric of his suit stretched against the muscles of his back. He didn't feel bad. He had worked for all of this luxury.
His gaze smoothed over the floor, over the rows of desks, and the electronic boards displaying market trends and stock markets, his gaze stopping on a woman sitting in the office of one of his best employees.
Hunched in your chair, shoulders curled inward as if trying to take up less space. You sported an old sweatshirt, faded from too many washes, wrinkled jeans, and a baseball cap that tugged low over your face, though it couldn't hide the resignation clouding your delicate features.
You looked young, much too young to be sitting in an office like this, across from one of his employees, listening to the man pitching a high risk, high reward scenario, encouraging you to invest more than you planned. Just a little more, of course. Pushing the idea that this was your big break.
And of course, you were listening. The exhaustion in your eyes was momentarily replaced by a sickeningly impossible chance at making it big. Hence why that was one of the Salesman's favorite employees.
You weren't demanding guarantees or questioning the risk. No, you were nodding along like you were in a trance, your eyes flitting periodically to the numbers on the big screens above you like they held all the answers to your sad little life.
His eyes lit up with a fascination he hadn't felt in a long time.
He had seen plenty of people about to hit the age of a midlife crisis come around here and fall for this trap. But girls like you? Quite rare.
His blood heated ever so slightly. Because you weren't just desperate, you were naive. Easy to influence. He liked that sort.
And yet, despite his growing interest, he wouldn't go down to meet you. Not yet, at least. That wasn't how he operated. The best games required patience for the reward to be more fulfilling.
So, instead of approaching himself or making himself known, he turned away and walked back to the executive wing of his building. The private floors, higher up, where the real power sat.
As he reached his office, he was already undoing the top button on his suit jacket, leaning back into the chair behind his desk. Opening his computer, his monitor flickered to life, casting a pale glow over his face. It held his security system. Hundreds of cameras. Spectating ever floor, ever hallway, every desk.
He leaned back, crossing one ankle over his knee as he flicked through the channels using his mouse, finding you quickly.
Still sitting there, still nodding at whatever bullshit his advisor was feeding you. You looked hesitant, gnawing your lower lip before finally reaching for your phone, presumably to check your account.
He tsked. "Tch. Little thing insists on hiding her face under such a filthy hat." He zoomed in, trying to catch a glimpse of your features, while simultaneously turning up the volume of his monitor. He watched you schedule another appointment for next Thursday.
He quickly grabbed his agenda from his desk, flipped to the right page, and noted it down. His gaze returned to the gaze, watching as you stood and made your way towards the exit, he tilted his head, quickly switching his feed to a new angle, one of the cameras near the elevator bank.
He watched as you stepped inside, leaning back against the wall as the doors slid shut.
Before they did, he lifted the walkie from his desk.
"Security, come in," he murmured. A crackle. Then, "Yes, sir?"
"The girl in the baseball cap." His eyes stayed glued to the screen, tracking the floor numbers as the elevator descended. "Follow her. Discreetly. I want to know what car she gets into."
He nodded with satisfaction, now moving through the cameras more rapidly. His fingers twitch over the angles almost like a man possessed. He hadn't had excitement like this in ages. Anticipation curled in his gut as he ignored the ringing of his work phone for a board meeting which was meant to take place tonight, lingering on the outside camera.
The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped out into the dim lighting of the parking structure.
But something made him sit up straight.
Because as you walked, you lifted a hand to the brim of your cap. And then, with a small sigh, you tugged it off. And fuck.
Your hair spilled out, soft and tousled from being pressed beneath the hat, falling in slight curls that brushed your shoulders.
And your face... long lashes with bright eyes that caught in the dull overhead light. You let out a long sigh, perhaps of relief, as you ducked your head once more, continuing towards your car.
He ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek as something swam around in his stomach. It wasn't pleasant for him. He wasn’t sure the last time he’d had a physical reaction to just looking at someone, but now, sitting in his chair, his breath was heavier, slower.
"Boss." His earpiece sounded once more. "She's getting into... some old Honda. License plate..." He read out the numbers and letters, and the Salesman quickly wrote them down, mumbling them to himself.
"Acknowledged." He says sternly to his security guard team. "Thank you for your work."
He leaned back in his chair once more, watching the screen as your taillights disappeared down the ramp, already counting down the days until next Thursday.
Later, in his boardroom, he was hardly listening to the constant droning of men in suits. Some executive from the European division was talking about expansion in Berlin, with another adding in information about the numbers in Munich. Projections for the next quarter that he didn't give a fuck about.
Not when he had a little someone that was invading ever corner of his mind. He was on his phone under the table, deriving information from your license plate. He found your vehicle identification number, a few accidents you'd gotten into years ago that he was thankful you recovered from.
But the jackpot was your home address. He grinned, watching his screen with interest. You lived just where he had expected. In a little apartment far from the city. A low income area with cheap rent and cramped rooms.
He tapped on his maps app and typed in your address nimbly, staring at an overhead view of your apartment. He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes to imagine you making your way to your bedroom to take off your clothes and shower. God, he could imagine how you looked under those old clothes. Probably all soft curves and smooth skin. He felt himself getting too worked up, in the middle of a meeting as well.
He loosened his tie a little to breathe properly, trying to will away the throbbing in his crotch. He wished he could see inside. He wished he could have bugged you slipped a camera into that tiny excuse of a living space and watch you flit around like a mouse.
He swallowed thickly, gnawing on his lower lip. Oh, when he got his hands on you...
"Sir?" He barely glanced up. A man was staring at him expectantly from across the long, polished table. "What." he said coldly, wanting to almost snap at him for interrupting his little fantasy, his eyes still flicking through the images on his screen.
"I was asking if you approve of the updated revenue projections for the Munich division."
"Sure. Do whatever you want, Mr. Park. I trust you know what to do with expansion." he said, not looking at him.
The man hesitated. "Uh, so—that’s a yes?" He sighed through his nose, clicking his phone off and finally lifting his gaze. "Yes," he said flatly. "Good work, Park. Keep it up." The man beamed, nodding furiously before returning to his numbers.
He groaned slowly, his grip tightening around his phone.
The knowledge that you were all alone, desperate, and in a time of need, made him ache. He hoped you were crying. He liked tears, the look of defeat and helplessness in people's eyes, because it made them so easy to control, and if you were crying, he could have his way with you so easily. You'd fall into his hands.
His blood hummed. It was too risky to just show up at your dirty apartment, even with how badly he wanted to break in and pounce on you like an animal without a leash.
Instead, he opted for an alternative. He flicked his hand.
"The meeting is closed. All of you, back to your stations, if you have anything left for the day. If not, go home." He paused, turning his gaze to the advisor who'd spoken to you today. "Mr. Kim. You stay."
Mr. Kim paled slightly, fearing punishment, and the rest of the employees scrambled out of the room, not wanting to face his potential anger.
The man straightened, approaching his boss with careful reverence.
"You handled the woman today," he said, voice smooth, measured. "The young one. Soft, pretty face, yes?"
Mr. Kim fidgeted slightly, letting out a soft, confused scoff. "Uh… yes, sir. A few actually, but-"
"You know which one I mean."
"She scheduled another appointment for Thursday," Kim added. "Seemed… hesitant. Didn’t have much to invest with." He already knew that.
Mr. Kim blinked. "Sir? Doesn't our policy say-"
Kim nodded quickly, knowing better than to question his boss.
He sat in the office of his luxury apartment, logging into your bank account with ease. He sees your recent transactions, and the pitiful sum of money lingering in your savings. His lip curled, and he transferred out three-quarters of your money, sending it into one of his private accounts, untraceable and easy to plant seeds of doubt in your mind.
With your money gone right after coming home from his company, you'd either assume your advisor had made the investment without you, or you'd think you'd just been robbed outright. Either way, he knew you'd return. His breath came shallow with excitement of the prospect of seeing you tomorrow.
Like clockwork, you were in the office next morning, early. He spotted you from a few meters away, standing in the middle of Mr. Kim's office, your hands shaking as you gripped the edge of his desk.
Tears streaked your face, and your whole body wracked with panic. God, you were hysterical. Your screams rang throughout the entire lower floor. His breath hitched.
He was already getting hard. You were wearing yoga pants today, something unfit for such a fine establishment. your jacket was faded, and his gaze roamed your body as you began to pace and shake with the sheer desperation clouding your mind.
"I didn't authorize that! What the fuck made you think it was okay to just drain my bank account while I was sleeping? Do you realize how sick that is? I don't even know where it went! You took advantage of me!" your voice broke, hoarse from crying, thick with rage.
Mr. Kim jumped, looking slightly put off. "Miss, I understand, really, but I swear I didn't-"
"Then where the hell is my m-money?" You shriek, your voice breaking on the last word.
The Salesman closed his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose as he felt a sharp coil of pleasure tighten in his gut, like yesterday. You did things to him he couldn't describe.
Your eyes were bloodshot, plump lips wobbling, and you jabbed your finger at Kim's computer in accusation.
The irony of it all was that he was the one who was holding all of it in his account as you took your anger out on his employee. He was enjoying this way more than he had expected. You, this pathetic little thing, sobbing over a couple thousand won, in those tight fucking pants, looking so small...
You were breaking apart, shaking and crying, your breath coming in shallow, choked little gasps, and Kim was floundering to explain what had happened to your money.
He straightened his tie, adjusted the cuffs of his suit, and walked into the office with a slow, deliberate ease, his expression smooth, unreadable, effortlessly controlled. The moment Kim saw him, his face went pale. He immediately got to his feet, though he didn't even look at him.
He couldn't be bothered by the man right now. He had his focus on you, and my my... you looked so much better up close. Especially because of your tears.
Your eyes widened as your gaze locked with his, confusion crossing your features. You knew him, obviously. Everyone in the city did. His handsome face was everywhere. In ads on TV, on billboards by the highways, in magazines. A figure of power, fortune, and influence.
And yet here he was, right in front of you, involving himself in your mess... why?
It's not like it would be a big deal if you told anyone that you thought his company scammed you. Even suing him wouldn't make a dent in his bank account.
But he liked that you were confused. It gave him control.
"What's the issue here?" He asked smoothly, his voice calm, pleasant, like he didn’t already know exactly what the issue was.
You hiccupped weakly, adjusting your baseball cap. He thought it was cute that you tried to make yourself look more presentable for him.
Your eyes widened a bit as he leaned down to your level when you failed to answer, his lithe body bent forward so that he could get in your face. His hands moved slow enough for it to be unrecognizable, so you didn't flinch away.
He reached up and lifted your cap, brushing his knuckles against your forehead.
Your hair was soft beneath his touch, and he hummed lowly, barely restraining himself from gripping it, from tilting your head back and seeing how pliant you could be. Perhaps kiss your smooth throat. Or crush it under his grip.
Sensing your discomfort, he asks for your name as if he didn't already know all about you. You told him quietly, and he nodded, repeating it back to himself. "Pretty," he cooed softly.
"M-my money." You say finally, as he ran his fingers over your face, gently dabbing your tears away. You stilled completely, barely breathing. You physically felt your face starting to glow pink and warm up.
"Yes, dear? What about it?" He said, moving your hair out of your face so he could continue wiping your face, forcing himself not to look at your lips, which were slightly raw from biting. He could make them more red. He promised himself to bite them until they were cherry red when he finally got you alone.
His cock was nearly fully stiff now, pushing against his slacks. He made sure your face was tilted upwards so you didn't look at it. Though he could keep his composure and his facade, he couldn't control physiological reactions to your proximity. He didn't want you to know that.
"It... o-overnight, I lost most of it... I th-thought it was invested while I was sleeping without my knowledge."
He nodded, pretending to be understanding. Most of your tears were gone now, but he kept running his fingers over your face.
"Is that so?" He hesitated momentarily even though he had this whole conversation planned out. He wanted this to feel real for you. "That's quite a serious issue, my sweet. A circumstance like this would require action from one of the higher ups. Allow me," he paused, offering you a soft smile and bringing the back of your hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips very lightly against your hand.
Your whole face burned, your breath growing shaky as you stared into his eyes, the charming, gentle way he treated you making your heart flutter. "To guide you." He finished.
You blinked, swallowing hard. "I-I just want my money back."
"And I just want to help you," he reassured.
Then, slowly, he straightened, extending a hand toward you.
"Come with me," he said simply. You obliged, trusting him to help you. After all, it was his company. If anyone could help you, it would be him. Slowly, you laced your much smaller fingers through his, letting him take you all the way up to the top floor.
He sits at his desk, reclining comfortably in his chair. You expected to sit across from him, like an equal, but he just scoffed, tilting his head as he spun the monitor slightly to the side, showing you the complex financial data flickering across the screen.
"This is all highly intricate work." He said, tapped his screen like he was lecturing you. "I want you to be able to see everything I do. Full transparency. That way, we can have trust between us, yes?"
You nodded quickly, understanding what he was saying. He pretended to be considering something.
"Although," he continued, his voice soft and gentle. "If you sit across from me, I'll have to continuously turn the screen around, which is inefficient. I want you to be able to follow along."
He leaned back, exhaling as if this was all so frustrating for him, all this work, all this effort he was going through just for you. Then he smiled, warm and reassuring, and patted his lap.
"Why don't you sit here?"
Your ears burned, and you coughed in surprise, looking at him with confusion. "Pardon me? Y-you can't be s-"
"It's for practicality," he interrupted smoothly. He ignored his raging hard on and the desire to put your pretty ass right on his cock and bounce you up and down on it while he worked, trying to focus on getting you to take the bait.
"The monitor is large, the keyboard is here, I want you to see everything in real time. I need you to understand that I’m only trying to help you." He said, looking up at you with dark, piercing eyes.
You felt like he was hypnotizing you. His logic... made sense to you, and you hesitated. He wasn't forcing you, either. Simply a suggestion. And he was just trying to help! He would get you your money back... maybe if you listened and played dumb, you could get him to add a little more to your account than you started with.
"There’s nothing to be shy about," he coaxed, his voice dipping even softer, almost fond. "I'm helping you." He tells you once more, and your ears burned. Slowly, you stepped forward and hesitantly perched yourself on his lap. Because you were facing away from him, you missed the way he grinned happily, feeling his cock press against your smooth, plump pussy. He pulled you in tighter.
If you couldn't feel it now, you had to be clueless. "Good girl." He praises softly, wrapping one arm around you to pull you in tighter as he clicked through your profile, showing you how the money was moved to an untitled account, pretending he had no clue how it happened.
He was using jargon so complex that you couldn't keep up, overexplaining things and saying that your advisor must have been mistaken.
Subtly, he moves your body back and forth against his crotch, gnawing on the inside of his cheek to not groan. You feel a weird flutter in your tummy and heat grow in your core at the feeling of friction against your pussy, the thin fabric of your pants not helping. Here you were, being bounced on the lap of the richest man in the city. You fuss, embarrassed and confused at the direction of events.
He tucked your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your jawline, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his piercing gaze. "Shh, shh... there now, no need for all this commotion," he cooed, his thumb brushing over your trembling lower lip. "I'm sure we can sort this out civilly, can't we, sweetheart?"
Despite your shock, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your body betraying your urge to be soothed, to be told everything would be alright. He smiled, a slow, smug curl of his lips, knowing he had you. His other hand moved to the small of your back, subtly pressing you closer, guiding you to turn towards him.
His actions were nearly unconscious, his focus solely on the rapid beating of your heart, the short puffs...of your quick, aroused breaths. He drank in your scent, the sweet aroma of your perfume.
The hard bulge beneath you throbbed in time with the pulse he could feel fluttering wildly at the base of your throat. He could feel your body tensing, could sense your confusion and mounting distress, but he paid it no mind, too focused on the delicious sensation of having you at his mercy, at the mercy of his whims and desires.
He continued clicking over the computer, his arm around your waist moving up until one hand was splayed over your breast, squeezing and quickly talking over your moans to act like he has no idea what hes doing. "And you're certain the money is gone?" he asked, his voice filled with fake concern. "Well, I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding. A clerical error, nothing more."
"W-wait, I...mmh," You manage through moans, your body overstimulated already. You didn't know what was happening.
"Shh, don't worry sweetheart, I can fix all of that," he murmured, his hot breath tickling your ear. "But I'm going to need something from you in return."
Before you could respond, he had already started tugging at your pants, his fingers dragging the fabric down your legs. You squealed in surprise, trying to wriggle away, but his grip held firm, leaving you exposed and vulnerable as cool air hit your heated skin. He groaned lowly, his eyes darkening with lust as he took in the sight of your plump, glistening pussy, now bared completely to his hungry gaze.
He spread your legs, cooing and shushing you softly as he gave your right breast one more squeeze before clicking on your account, scrolling aimlessly to waste time, while his other hand, now off your tits, went between your legs to push a finger into your cunt.
You nearly scream, but he shushes you and tsks. "Careful with your volume, darling." He warns gently. "Wouldn't want everyone to hear how needy you are, hm?" You pant out, his finger pumping in and out of your hole sloppily, your hips bucking instinctively into his touch, seeking more of that delicious pressure.
He chuckled darkly, his fingers finally making contact with your pussy, one long digit delving between your slick folds, stroking teasingly inside you.
He added a second finger, stretching you wider, pumping them in and out of your dripping cunt, the obscene sound of your arousal filling the room. His hips rocked up to meet each thrust, the hard ridge of his cock grinding against your ass, the heat of him searing your skin even through the fabric of his pants.
"See how much better you're listening now?" He praises. "Good girl. I ought to give you a nice tip for good behavior."
"Pl-please," You cry out, "Ngh, w-wait, I c-can't..." You cried out, a strangled moan tearing from your throat, your hips bucking instinctively into his touch, seeking more of that delicious pressure.
Just before you felt pleasure coil in your belly, he shoved you forwards, pressing your front against his desk, his papers scattering.
"You don't get to tell me no." He frowns, perturbed by your constant hesitation. He slaps your ass, watching the fat jiggle with a sick fascination, the plush flesh going red under the impact. You jolt at the sudden pain, a string of arousal dripping embarrassingly down your cunt.
The sound of his zipper lowering seemed deafening in the sudden silence of the room, and you couldn't help but look back over your shoulder to watch as he freed his thick, angry red cock from the confines of his pants.
Your eyes widen with disbelief at the sheer size of him, and you try to scramble, knowing that thing would never fit inside you. You still struggled to grasp the reality of what was happening.
"Ah ah," He scolded gently, tugging you back against him and putting your ass right up against his cock, rubbing his length up and down the curves of your body, from your pussy and up to your ass. "Now as much as I would love to watch you cum before I put my cock inside you," He hums. "I do have business to attend to, besides. Lunch hour will be soon, and everyone will be out of office and able to see you fucking yourself on my cock."
You freeze, looking back at him with terror, but the words about to leave your mouth turn to a moan as he starts to push his fat cock past the ring of your entrance, and your lashes flutter.
"Oh my," He groans, his head thrown back and his tie askew as he slowly pushes forward, nearly bottoming out inside of you. You mewl and cry out at the way you seem so full, tears pooling at your waterline.
He croons, tugging your head back so your neck is forced to crane back and look at him, and he slowly thrusts in and out of you, watching your face scrunch in slight pain and overwhelming pleasure.
He loves tears. He loves your tears. He watches you with delight as you cry out and writhe on his cock, pushing your ass back everytime he pounds into you, wanting to feel every inch of him despite your mind telling you that its too much, that this is going too fast.
You’re soaked from the drool forming at the corner of your mouth and the tears in your eyes. From where his cock slides in and out of your sopping pussy, a thick creamy ring formed at the base.
"Fuck," he breathes out, running his hand through his hair at the slow, but rough strokes. every time he buries himself into you by the hilt, there's a plap of flesh against flesh, and he groans loudly, his breathing heavy. "So goddamn tight, darling, my God."
He grabs your waist and pushes your head back, pushing his cock in and out of you fast, then slowing down abruptly to disorient you. "N-no more, t-too much," You slur, but he doesn't hear you.
He pulled back and slammed into you again. You cried out, loudly, and clapped your hand over your mouth. "That's it beautiful, make a mess." He chuckled and did it again. His wet flesh reverberated against yours. Each time he paused and basked in the sounds you'd make as your body was jolted by his.
He lifted your ass slightly, grabbing onto the hand that was over your mouth and pushed it down so he could push two fingers into your mouth, watching as you sobbed and slobbered around his fingers, moaning as your pussy clenched around him due to the pleasure of being so full. "How's- haah... that, darling?" He questions breathlessly, feeling his orgasm approaching quickly.
He doesn't take your unresponsiveness lightly, slapping your ass oncemore to get you to speak. "Mmm, fuck... c-cumming..." You babble stupidly, and he grins, squeezing your jaw and turning your face upwards so he can lick the tears off your face, relishing in your pleasure.
He groans at your taste, slotting your lips over his as your shared saliva smears over your lips, and that's all it takes for him to spill into you, hot, thick cream filling your womb and stuffing you full. He swallows your moans as your legs twitch and shake, and you cum around his cock, soaking his pelvis with your juices.
Your body convulses and your breathing becomes even more rapid, and you squeeze down on his cock until he groans loudly into your mouth, leaning back as strings of saliva connect your tongues, and he licks his lips, pecking the tip of your nose and wiping sweat off his brow.
