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Bitter Truth	By : InnocentIntentions Category: M through R > The Office Views: 5317 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Office (U.S.) © adapted by Greg Daniels; produced by Deddle-Dee Productions, Shine America & Universal Television. I do not claim copyright or ownership of the characters, show-related content nor am I profiting in anyway.

Chapter List
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Notes:

For the full version go to Archive of Our Own(I update all my fics there first. That site has a much better format than AFF. Also, my private university doesn't block it so that's a plus). Acess the "Bitter Truth" here - http://archiveofourown.org/works/910989/chapters/1764832
Hello once again my dear followers! I had intended to update "Bitter Truth" much earlier so I do apologize for the delay. I hope to have the 6th chapter up in a few months. If that doesn't happen, feel free to prod me some more :D
As always, your comments are well loved & inspire me to keep writing this ridiculous story...
Finally we'll see some action, however I don't think Jim's going to enjoy the ride

Copyright:

CalmThe Office (U.S.) © Adapted by Greg Daniels; produced by Deedle-Dee Productions, Shine America & Universal Television. I do not claim copyright or ownership of the characters, show-related content nor am I profiting in anyway.

Chapter 5: Calm Before the Fury

      The unspoken plea was granted. Gaze steady, the hand lifted to trail up against a dipped collar bone. Finger pads gently fondled the prisoner’s throat, brushing over the protrusion of his Adam’s apple.
       As a taper in a rushing wind, the soft caress ghosted over his muscles, causing them to spasm. The touches were tender, light and airy, hardly making contact yet far too close for comfort. A shudder racked through the suspended body as a slow, circular motion massaged below a clenched jaw line. The brief image of Pam quaking beneath his adoring hands appeared in Jim’s mind, allowing him to comprehend how his touch affected her. No wonder she always came undone by the sweet confessions of love breathed into her nape and by how he would worship her sensitive neck.
       The pixie kiss planted on his shoulder blade cut short the husband’s recollection of his wife. A sudden nip behind Jim’s earlobe alarmed the bound man who had not seen this at all in a potentially sexual light. He would not fully understand Dwight’s horrendous intentions until much later. For now, the initial unexpected, unseen bite instilled a sense of foreboding which washed coldly throughout his nervous system. Miniscule bumps appeared across the lean incline of his neck, the skin chilled by affectionate lips trailing further towards his own.
       “S-top.” The uneasy command encouraged the flat of a tongue to trace along the edge of his mandible. Groaning in disgust, Jim attempted to nudge away but his movement was jarred instantly by a pair of hands which clutched his face. Held firmly in place, he could only squeeze his eyes shut at the unbearable sensation. The slender organ glided across his cheeks and lapped the space between his temples before settling on the corner of his mouth.
       The imposing tongue shyly inched closer, testing churning waters. Inhaling shakily, Jim tilted his head until it bumped against the backboard of the chair which offered no other option but to sit forward. Pursed lips were graced by the descent of a feathery kiss. The hesitant action surprised Jim, not simply from aversion but more so at the quality of Dwight’s orifice. The intruder’s lips, although thinner than a woman’s and less smooth, were thick and softer than he had expected a man’s to be. Emboldened by the lack of resistance, Dwight held his position, chastely pressing their lips together. As Jim secretly debated the characteristics of the lips flattened against his own, Dwight’s mouth slid to suck his opponent’s lower lip inward.
       Jerking away, reality hit and reminded Jim of his strange circumstance. Dwight was kissing him, kissing him! Repelled, he managed to evade further pecks for a few seconds by bobbing his head around until Dwight had enough of his antics. Plunging precariously ahead, the plump muscle wetted the other by licking across Jim’s lips before prying them open with the use of a thumb.

       Saliva and heat swarmed together. Fiercely smothered, a haze encapsulated the captive’s thoughts. His torso heaved as a tongue forcibly entered his mouth. Jim writhed beneath the man probing his inner cheeks, something thick slithering around molars on its way to his throat. A guttural moan disturbed the back peddling individual, his tied wrists desperately trying to push off the chest emanating such frightful sounds. Hovering over the chair, Dwight continued to explore, his tongue rattling gums and licking across the roof of Jim’s mouth in a woozy spin.
       Overwhelmed by the foreign intrusion, crippling shock caused Jim to abandon any remnant of struggle. Despite attending to his task with gusto, Dwight noticed the limpness of his abhorred nemesis. Pondering if the next course of action would revive the lethargic fellow, Dwight fully tunneled to the entrance of his companion’s esophagus. Gagging, Jim sputtered and roared into life. Thrashing and convulsing without success, the hostage bit down onto his adversary’s tongue. A ringing slap sounded followed by a quick yelp. Red imprinted the already battered face.
       “It’s fortunate you did not slice through my tongue. Otherwise you’d be dead where you stand!” Craned forward by the make-shift blindfold, Jim instantly spat into Dwight’s enraged face, karma for the prior insult. Wiping the spit off, Dwight gripped the loose strap of the tie, the end extended tautly outwards while his other hand gripped Jim stiffly by the throat.
       “I have put unbending regulations in place and will govern with an iron fist. This is an autocracy. I make the rules, you adhere to them. Understand?” A detained larynx compressed under pressure that hardly enabled breath. No longer able to suck vital oxygen into his lungs, Jim blinked, hoping the movement would suffice as a signal of agreement. The acknowledgement appeared to have suited Dwight’s demands for he nonchalantly slackened the tie. Panting, Jim gulped mouthfuls of air in the slow attempt to recuperate. Watching the desire to survive shining within his prisoner’s eyes, Dwight tapped his chin thoughtfully,
       “Did you know that the skin is the largest organ of the body? The nerve endings are countless. Imagine the possibilities. If you thought cutting off your air supply for a meager fifteen seconds was difficult, just wait. Picture all the ways pain and anguished pleasure can be drilled into you.”
       “Come on,” Coughing, Jim complained despairingly, “Don’t use those terms.” Flinching, he twisted away as Dwight leaned over and pinioned his forearms against the chair’s armrests. Hot breath wafted across his pectorals in a chuckle. Darting out of a crevice like a spider, something damp smeared against his chest. Daring to trace the offending insect’s scuttling feet, Jim recoiled instantly when he saw that despicable tongue bee lining towards his breast.
       “Wait! Dwight stop, just stop!” Dabbing here and there, the offender continued to tenderly prod the pink tip. Licking with steady strokes, the tenderized nipple began to harden.
       “Ah God, stop it!” The slick feeling caused heat to stir within Jim. Queasy, his pit felt like a skid riding through a gale as acid crashed against the walls of his stomach. Pausing in his suckling, Dwight glanced up, beady eyes full of accusation,
       “Why, does it frighten you that I’m so close to the truth?”
       “No,” Appreciative for the distracting conversation, Jim glared, “I adore my wife. Unlike you, I want nothing to do with men.”
       “Shows what you know,” Dwight murmured, tweaking the breast harshly to shut Jim up, “This is not about wanting you sexually. It’s purely domination. For the last time, I will prove to you that I am physically and intellectually better than you.” Gritting his teeth, Jim scornfully interjected,
       “Hmmm…well your social skills still need work.” Twisting harder, Dwight sarcastically laughed,
       “Ha hah, not funny. Gosh, you’re so obnoxious.” Rubbing the nib between his fingertips, Dwight clarified, “Listen, no debatable choice is available. You are my prisoner. I can do anything I like to you and I intend to abuse that ability to the fullest. You will accept my man-meat and enjoy every inch. I guarantee it.” A green shade passed over Jim as he faltered at the thought,
       “I think I’m going to be sick.” Grinning vindictively, Dwight lauded,
       “That’s because your immune system is lame, foddered by the likes of McDonalds and Starbuck lattes. Schrute boys are far superior compared to the youth of today. It’s a shame you weren’t raised as one. Perhaps you wouldn’t have turned out as scrawny.” His expression actually revealed pity, making Jim wonder what type of Schrute-raised man Dwight envisioned, “Or pathetically feminine.”
       “That’s sexist.” Jim snapped, mind flashing to a sore point, seeking a chance to prevent this vicious scheme of retribution, “At work, you could have received a demerit for that. And what would that do to your spotless record?”
       “It’s a good thing we’re no longer in the office then, isn’t it?” Drat, the diversion flopped. Even if it had succeeded, it would not have been long before Dwight resumed the molestation of his coworker.

      Pursuing the indication of womanly elements, Dwight let his thumb and forefinger cup the unmoving chin, holding it hard while titling Jim’s face up and into the light. Now capable of viewing fair attributes in their entirety, Dwight could better evaluate his new possession.
      “See…you fit my description of an ideal woman perfectly. Rosy cheeks, thick calves, no tats or moles. I don't see what you're complaining about.” The lucid crosses of Jim’s eyes rotated sideways irritably,
      “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Dwight stopped the retort, swinging along with his famous logic,
      “False. An insult, one of thousands coming your way. Prepare yourself for humiliation station. Ticketmaster is me. And I’m about to-”
       “You’re not even the conductor in this scenario?” Jim clucked his tongue, “You know what’s lame? Your fantasies. They don’t’ even begin to explore anything worthwhile.”
       “You’ll see how worthy they can be.” A hand drifted up silent as silk. Gliding over said feminine calves, a low tone inquired, “I see. By asking about my fantasies, you want to know what I desire most intimately.”
       “No, no I definitely do not.” Deft nails flickered over the waistband, trailing up an unbuttoned polo which drooped from bent elbow joints. Twin hands gathered around the pale collar currently rotating speedily backwards at Dwight’s approach,
       “Well, that’s too bad…because my fantasy has just become reality.”
       “W-what do you mean?” Stuttering, Jim was suddenly unable to comprise a witty remark as fingers constricted his neck.
       “Oh I think you know what I mean.” Large, unshaped eyebrows rose in a suggestive manner, insinuating what was most feared, “As you already know, due to that Donald Duck fiasco months ago, I have seen animals having sex in every position imaginable. You better not underestimate my creativity.”

       Relief flooded the prisoner as the man’s presence was removed, freeing his tingling knees which had been lain atop of for the whole duration. Once departing the long legs, Dwight lifted Jim with a tremendous heave, chair and all, into the air. He quickly rotated the seat, the stand pivoting in the soil before crashing onto a nearby crate. Jostled but otherwise unharmed, Jim was glad that Dwight’s anger had not tossed his unprotected abdomen onto the giant wooden box face first. Perhaps the “Gym for Muscles” and Dwight’s beet industry were paying off. Prior to this, the thin salesman had not realized that the stocky farmer was fit and beefy below the padding of his gullet.
       Leather tongs fastened the victim onto the make-shift tabletop in a cocoon similar to how a fly is caught in a web. Jim worriedly remained upright as new rope encircled his limbs. He noticed a bulky and nondescript mechanism stationed behind him, pondering what agricultural purpose it served. Now was not the time to take in the scenery. Opaque tubes, which were gathered at the table’s basin, were brought up like snakes. Once applied, the lids stuck to his skin like a bathroom floor mat. Blotted circles attached below his earlobes, along his pecks, ribcage, inner thighs, and the soles of his feet; secured to all the vitally sensitive regions except for one last, private location.
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Bitter Truth