The Final Straw

She stands in the conference room, defiant in spite of it all. The long list of her misdemeanours. The growing heat of the space crammed with bodies. The blinds are open and the room is filled with beautiful sunlight. She is naked, dimpled and freckled. Blushing, embarrassed. Damp between the thighs and watched by a dozen men, each one old enough to be her father.

Comeuppance, I supposed you’d call it. A year of teasing, teasing, teasing had finally caught up with her. A year of thigh skimming skirts paired with hold-ups. A month of shirts and blouses with the top three, four, five buttons undone. One day of ‘accidentally’ changing into her gym kit with the office door open, and here she is.

She turns from the wide expanse of glass and faces her audience. A dozen men, tending to their cocks. A dozen slabs and slivers of meat that thicken under her gaze. Or not.

Gentlemen.”

Franks has been touching himself through his trousers all afternoon. He used to do it a lot during company meetings, cup his balls and massage the length of his cock and she would watch intently, her eyes occasionally flickering to his face. He never even tried to hide how he was enjoying his actions. No one else seemed to notice. She’d undo a couple of buttons on her blouse and let him spot the flash of white or red lace, the dark of her areola, and enjoy the widening of his eyes and audible catch in his breath.

Now he stands, stroking himself, and advances on her, leering.

Do you have anything to say for yourself, Caroline?”
“Only that it seems a little bit redundant to punish me for indecent exposure by sexually harassing me.”
He kisses her neck and places his hands on her shoulders, pushing her down to her knees.

I seem to recall it was a stipulation of yours that we needed to keep you in check. And we will. Now be a good girl and open your mouth.”

Yes, that shouldn’t be a problem, should it Caroline? Usually we can’t get you to shut up.” adds Delamere, taking up the rhythm in his own wrist as Caroline’s head bobs up and down over his colleague’s shaft.

There is a rumble of voices and the six surround her, replicating the shuttling movements over their exposed cocks – an almost-rainbow, in flesh-colours of every hue. One or two larger than she’d experienced but the majority were average or less.

Above her head, Franks is moaning, under her agile tongue and pursed lips and the swirl of her tongue means he doesn’t last long, leaving a watery trail over her cheek. She likes it. She enjoys the weight and pressure of the dick in her mouth, as Delamere steps forward and shoves himself against her tonsils, as hard as he can. He’s bigger.

She smiles.

He doesn’t like that. He grabs her hair and fucks her roughly, rougher than the relatively meek, if lascivious Franks, making her eyes bulge and smart as the intrusion works further into her throat.

Stupid little bitch. Desperate to be fucked, desperate slut. Showing off your body.”

Her cunt throbs as her mouth is used, slickening with every thrust, but she also feels him soften in her mouth. Performance anxiety. He roars in frustration and pulls away, smacking his cock against her jaw as he does. Come and drool mix and begin to dry on her perfect skin.

He grabs under the armpits.

Here.” he drags/carries/leads her to the chair – the half-broken desk chair rescued from the stationery cupboard – sits her on it at an angle and parts her legs roughly, shoving his fingers into her sodden cunt, jerking his cock with the other hand. He reaches up to grab her breasts then back down between her thighs as another man fills her mouth and two more curl her empty palms around their veined, straining shafts.

Overwhelmed, her mind wanders from sensation to sensation. Nothing sticks. Her body is parts to be exploited, a toy. She stops recognising the bodies surrounding her, but her mouth notes the size of each cock in her mouth, the taste and texture of his issue and her cunt still clenches as each one hisses or shouts through his orgasm. Come drips down her chest and arms, and all the while Delamere assaults her cunt and masturbates. He pinches the flesh of her inner thighs and gets harder when she winces. He hears her gurgle and choke on a mouthful of his colleague’s semen and the white trails down her face. Her makeup smears and smudges and his cock strains in his hand. She looks up at him.

Have you learned your lesson?” He taunts, finally hard enough to take his place between her lips, which whiten at the full thickness of his intrusion.

Her mouth is full, how is she supposed to answer?

His four fingers are plugged deep in her cunt, how is she supposed to think straight?

She is debased and humiliated and so turned on, she may not return to this mortal plane.

2 thoughts on “The Final Straw

  1. Loved it.
    Short and sweet.
    I enjoyed the “performance anxiety” part of it. The anger and frustration he felt, taking it out on her when it was his own piece not acting up to snuff.

    Also how she was into the wave of cocks thrown at her. As if she were thinking “more more more.”

    Like

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