It had happened every evening for almost a fortnight. Such a notable occurrence was this that William had begun setting time aside in his exceedingly busy schedule for the show. He had stumbled upon it quite by accident on evening and now this performance had become a familiar way to pass the time. Routine though it may have been it was by no means dull.
At precisely 19:30 William would stand from his desk and prepare to hand each failure of a Reaper their overtime. Calmly he would walk to every cubicle, passing subordinates bemoaning their fate as he dispensed their punishment. Knox accepted the paperwork with his usual cheeky grin, eyes sparkling mischievously. A week ago he would have reprimanded him for looking so happy, but he now understood what that gleam meant, and so he sighed, reminding the young man that he would be back within the hour.
The stage was set.
This is where the show began. The curtain rose to reveal all the cubicles, absent proper ceilings for his critical eye to observe his subordinate's progress. Act one was particularly salacious. Knox thought himself clever, holed up, surrounded by safe protecting walls. How juvenile. The boy's hand slipped into his trousers, mouth mumbling unheard words, perhaps encouragements, perhaps something far more delicious. The motivation for these little plays escaped William. However, he would not question them, nor put a stop to them. Legs crossed at the knee the voyeur would hold his position as observer even as Knox removed his trousers slowly. He wondered what that soft looking skin would feel like beneath his palms, how it would taste.
Act two began as the blond touched himself in earnest, fist pumping his erection greedily. He would need to be taught patience, discipline. The beauty of release lied in anticipation and it was clear that though Knox was beautiful he lacked restraint. William licked his lips, legs uncrossing as the young reaper paused, having heard someone walk down the aisle. So the boy possessed shame, and a desire for pseudo-exhibitionism that William could cultivate to further his pleasures should they ever meet as observer and performer.
He unbuttoned his fly as act three quickly began, removing his own cock carefully from its now tight confinement. He stroked it slowly as he watched Ronald begin to finger himself. What a naughty little thing, his mouth agape, legs spread wide; he looked like a common whore. William's blood raced. What an enticing image he made so wanton and yet so unschooled in execution. There were far better angles for stimulating the prostate. He would simply have to be shown. Hand speeding up now he watched the young man writhe, the young man innocent to his boss's lecherous eyes on his every movement.
With what looked to be a stifled cry the boy came, seed shooting all over his chest. A few more pumps into his own gloved hand sent William over the edge as well; the tantalising image before him was too much for him to continue a stoic command on his control. He removed the handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned himself, giving Knox ample time to return to his previously untouched work.
The play was not over yet, act four still loomed. William, the actor once more and now set to rights, walked down to Ronald's cubicle, opening the door with a sneer. "Mr. Knox, you've barely made any progress. At this point there is no way you can complete the work, and I will have no choice but to extend this overtime to tomorrow."
