I want to thank everyone for reading and providing their wonderful comments on my previous stories, they mean a lot to me. This is the first chapter of a short series. As with my other stories, it is based on my real life experiences with a dash of fantasy thrown in. I’ll let you decide which is which. Oh, and a special thanks to Dante Alighieri and Jim Morrison for a bit of literature inspiration. Thank you for reading and please, feel free to provide your comments and feedback either after the story or via email.
I shivered as I listened to the phone call from the VP’s executive assistant, Ms Evans.
“He wants to see you at 6:00.”
“I understand. Does he need me to bring anything?” I stammered.
“Just yourself.” She replied and hung up.
I bit my lower lip, a mixture of fear and excitement rippling through my body. I feel a warmth begin to grow in my belly as I thought of previous late meetings.
I tried to focus on the prep work for my new client with marginal success. Finally, at 5:40, I closed the windows on my laptop and went to the restroom to check my makeup. I reapplied my lipstick, a bright red to match my blouse and shoes, and let my hair down, satisfied, I made my way back to my work station. Powering off my laptop, I closed it and slipped it into my bag and headed for the elevator. I remembered my Dad’s saying that he picked up when he was in the Army, “If you’re on time, you’re late. If you’re early, you’re on time.” When I was younger, it sounded odd, but as I grew up, I understand what he meant and applied it to my own life.
It was a relatively short trip to the building’s top floor and as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened, I took a deep breath and stepped out into the executive hallway. Coming to his office door, I took another deep breath feeling the flush begin to rise from my chest to my throat. I didn’t know which was stronger, the feeling of fear or that of need. In the back of my mind, I knew which would win out, as it inevitably did.
“Hi, Miss Cassandra.” I said as I stepped into the office. She seemed to enjoy it when I used the old southern colloquialism of a title and first name. She was normally very formal. I remembered the low key, but sharp rebuke she gave to a new employee who called her “Cassie.” That employee never made that mistake again.
She looked up from her computer screen and smiled, “Hello, Alexa. Please have a seat, you’re early.”
I settled into one of the leather-covered chairs, the brush of my stockings seemed to echo in the office as I crossed my legs. These chairs were wonderfully cushioned, but presented a real challenge if one was wearing a skirt or dress because they were extremely difficult to get out of without giving a “show” to anyone who happened to be looking.
“Thank you. I know I am, but I didn’t want to keep him waiting.” I smiled as I tugged the hem of my skirt down past the dark band of my stocking top.
Befor turning back to her work, she chuckled, “Good thinking.”
I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. Her thick auburn hair was up, as usual. I imagine what it would look like when she let it down. Her auburn mane, combined with her green eyes and statusesque figure never failed to turn heads on the rare occasions she was out of the office. I pressed my tights tightly together at the image of her with her hair down, trying to resist the urge to grind my legs together as I let my eyes wander over the pictures on the walls. I didn’t know whether or not they were original Remingtons and Russells, but I imagined that in this office, they were originals.
The buzz of the phone intercom on her desk started me from my reverie. She answered and nodded as she hung the phone up and rose.
“He’s ready for you.”
I fairly leave up from the chair bringing a smile to her lips as she caught a glimpse of my stockings and red thong.
She paused before opening the office door and whispered in my ear, “very lovely.”
I blushed hotly and murmured a “thank you.”
I stepped through the door into the office that was the size of a studio apartment and nearly as functional. The layout hadn’t changed since the last time I visited. There was a small conference table to the right of the door. The VP’s desk was straight ahead with a well-filled bookshelf with a small, but well-stocked bar behind it and along the right wall. His desk reflected the rest of the western-themed decor. The only other two times that I’d been in the office, his desk had been clear save for a computer and a lamp. Today, something glittering on the glass desktop caught my eye, but I didn’t have time to focus on it. There were four overstuffed leather chairs that matched the ones in his reception area as well as the couch that was positioned to the left of the chairs.
Unable to resist a glance to the left, I could see the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling glass that made up one entire wall. I felt a slight blush as I remembered my breasts and face pressed against the glass while he roughly fucked my ass. At the time, I wondered if anyone could see me. I remembered the feeling of raw lust and fear; my fear of heights exacerbated by the irrational fear that the glass might break, sending us tumbling to the ground below. That thought deepened my blush and brought a sudden weakness in my knees.
A striking man, he stood about 5’11” tall, not terribly tall, but taller than me by 6″. In his late fifties, he had close-cropped dark gray hair that matched his eyes. Having shed his jacket and tie, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled half way up his forearms, he stood at the bar pouring an amber liquid into a cocktail glass, liquid that I could only guess was his favorite whiskey, Blanton’s. I was reminded of the conversation about whiskies that we had had at a party. He was a bourbon guy and I was a scotch girl. He was surprised that I favored the peatier, smoker offerings from the west coast of Scotland. I remember his comments about most women he’d met preferred the milder, Speyside offerings. Feeling in a playful mood, I responded, “I’m not like most women.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled, “Here’s to that.”
Turning to face me, he took a sip of his bourbon and gestured with his glass, “Drop the jacket and bag cunt.”
“Yes Sir.” I replied as I shrugged my jacket off of my shoulders and turned to draw it over one of the conference table chairs.
“I didn’t tell you to hang them up cunt. I said ‘drop them’.”
My face reddened as I dropped my jacket and bag on the floor next to me. “I’m sorry Sir.”
“Yes you are cunt.”
“Have you touched yourself today cunt?”
“Yes Sir.” I stammered, looking down at the floor.
He nodded, “As I thought, something that will require punishment.”
I shivered, looking down at the floor.
“Open your blouse cunt, down to the waist and pull your skirt up toYour waist. I want to see that creamy satin ass-flesh of yours.”
Fumbling with the bow at my throat, I untied it and unbuttoned my blouse to the waist, shivering slightly as I pulled open to the sides of my breasts. I knew that he could see the gold of my nipple bars glimmering through the lace of my bra. Bending slightly, I curled my fingers under the hem of my skirt and slowly pulled it up, giving a shake of my hips as I tugged it over my hips to my waist.
He motioned with his whiskey glass for me to turn and I obeyed, slowly turning.
“A garter belt to work? You are a cocktease slut, aren’t you?”
My face turned a deeper red as his words registered the truth in my brain.
“Yes Sir.” I whispered.
“What? Louder!”
I repeated the words, louder This time. “Yes Sir.”
“Louder cunt!”
Nearly shouting, I repeated the words again. “Yes Sir!”
“Better cunt, are you wet?”
“Yes Sir.” I replied.
“Show me cunt.”
The fear that I had felt when I first entered his office was fading to be replaced by dark lust. With my eyes locked on his, I slowly slide my right hand into my thong. My lips parted in a soft pant as I ran my fingers over the slick folders of my slit, struggling slowly as I rocked my hips against them feeling my juices coat my fingers. His eyes narrowed slightly and a slight smile curled at the edges of his lips as he watched my tease.
Slowly, teasingly, I pulled my glistening fingers from my thong showing him my wetness before flicking my pink tongue out, licking them, savoring my sweet juices.
A low, feral growl slipped between his lips, his free hand reaching to the bulge in his trousers as he sat down in one of the leather chairs.
“Now, on your hands and knees, crawl over here cunt.”
Whimpering, I begged, “Please Sir, what if someone comes in?”
He laughed huskily, “Cunt, that would be the least of your worries.”
Groaning softly, I swallowed hard, eyes wide andslowly sank to my knees, my lace encased breasts exposed, my scarlet, garter-framed hips rolling as I crawled, my blonde locks acting as a shroud around my face. Dante had his nine levels of hell, I had my own levels of depravity, and I willingly crawled forward, needing the dark depravity.
His eyes followed me like a wolf watching its prey.
As I reached him, I stopped and knelt up, shoulders back, my eyes beginning to flash with flecks of gold.
Leaning forward, he traced his finger along the fine line of my jaw, smiling.
“Imagine their expressions if they were to see you with My cock buried in your throat or perhaps me filling your mouth with hot piss or even your mouth on my shithole, hungrily, wantonly sucking?”
Groaning hotly, my eyes on his, lips parted, face flushed, I spread my knees wider as my fingers unconsciously slid into my thong to rub.
“That would be so humiliating Sir, You wouldn’t make me do those things? Would you?” The last words sounding more like a needy request than a fearful plea.
He smiled, catching the movement of my fingers out of the corner of his eye as he traced the soft, fullness of my lips with his fingers and shook his head slowly.
“No, no I wouldn’t, you’d beg to do them to keep me from adding to the welts on your ass and tights that I’d have left with my belt.”
I squirmed more. “You would beat my pale little ass? Right there in your office?”
He teased my lips with his fingertips and nodded, “And your wet, pink little cunt.”
I shuddered, my body starting to burn at the image. “Ohh yes… please?”
His eyes narrowed, still locked on mine. “Tell me why you’re here cunt.”
I knew what he wanted to hear and he knew what I needed to say. I replied, moaning softly.
“To be used, Sir.”
“Why?”
Groaning, my fingers gently rubbing my wet slit, my eyes never leaving his. “Because I need it, Sir.”
“I see. And what are you?”
I know from our prevident session where he was leading me.
“A cunt, Sir.”
His right hand snapped up against my cheek. “You can do better than that.”
Feeling the slight burn in my left cheek, I murmured. “A filthy slut, Sir.”
His left hand darted up against my right cheek. “Better, but you can do better slut.”
I moaned, “A stupid cunt, Sir.”
His left hand darted up against my right cheek. “Better, but you can do better slut.”
I moaned, “A stupid cunt, Sir.”
His right hand snapped harder against my left cheek, “And?”
I gasped, my fingers sliding violently between the slick folds of my slit, “A worthless piece of shit, Sir.”
I moaned and panted, my breath coming in quick gasps as his hands slapped against my cheeks, right, left, right, left, demanding more.
“A toilet pig, Sir!” I cried out.
“A cum dump, Sir!”
“A shit-eating, piss drinking fuck pig, Sir!” Strands of my hair were beginning to stick to the tears that were beginning to roll down my crisis cheeses to mix with the spittle that flew from my lips.
Losing myself in my pain and depravity, I was almost there. I teatered on the brink of my orgasm when he suddenly stopped and pushing the strands of hair from my face, grabbed a fistful of blonde locks to jerk my head back, causing me to arch back sharply.
I yelped in pain as I tried to focus on his hard gray eyes through my tear-dimmed eyes.
“Owwwwwwwww!”
His answer to my cry was a thick wad of spit that splattered across the bridge of my nose and right cheek. He followed quickly with a second wad into my gasping mouth.
It was too much, I pressed the ball of my clip hood bar against my tender, swollen nub and raked a fingerprintnail over my clip and exploded, bucking and convulsing as I orgasmed.
“Ohhhhh fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkk!!!” I screamed and rubbed my cunt harder, my juices completely soaking my thong.
My scream was cut off as he pushed his fingers between my soft lips, deeply probing the wet warmth of my mouth. I hungrily sucked and licked at his fingers as he pushed his fingers deeper, fucking slowly asI sucked, my tongue swirling around his digits as my fingers continued to stroke my swollen cunt, stoking the fire again in my greedy, needy hole.
I jerked and spasmed as my orgasm coursed through my body, drool dripping from my chin onto my flushed breasts as he slowly slipped his fingers from my mouth. His eyes never left mine as he slowly wiped his fingers on my cheeks.
Quivering, my fingers Still buried in my thong, I moaned, “Please, fuck me. Please!”
He replied with a simple command, “Strip cunt! Leave your garterbelt, stockings, and shoes on.”
Eager to obey, I jerked my wet fingers from my thong and began to frantically undo the remaining buttons on my blouse. I fumbled in my haste as I tried not to tear a button off the thin material. Finally, I undid the last button and Shrugged my blouse off and tossed it onto the nearest chair, quickly followed by my bra. Struggling with the zipper of my skirt, I jerked it down and wriggled out of it and throw it overto join my blouse and bra. Finally, I slide my soaked thong down over my hips and stockinged legs before adding it to the pile of my clothes.
I quickly resumed my kneeing position, my knees spread, exposing my swollen, glistening cunt. I slipped my hands behind my back grasping my elbows in each palm, arching my back, forcing my breasts out. My gold-tipped nipples were hard atop swollen areola, Begging to be abused.
His hungry eyes never left me as he watched me struggle out of my clothes. Taking a final sip of his bourbon, he stood, revealing his hard cock pressing against his slacks.
I unconsciously licked my lips in anticipation of tasting it. I thought he would unzip and offer his cock to my mouth, but he surprised me.
“Turn around and face the windows, face on the floor, ass up fuck pig!”
I hesitated, disappointed that I wasn’t to taste his cock yet.
“Now cunt!” He barked.
I scrambled to obey him, stretching my arms out, arching my back causing my hard nipples to grab the carpet. I pushed my ass high, my pale ass framed by the crisis straps of my garterbelt; my wet cunt and tight, pink pumper completely exposed. Through the veil of my hair that had cascaded over my face I could vaguely make out His reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows as he moved around. I remembered being pressed against that glass as he mercilessly reamed my ass. I panted softly at the memory and thought of Ashley’s earlier promise to ram an 18″ horse cock dildo into my shithole. The heat in my belly grow and I moaned softly with desperate need. God, I needed to be fucked! I needed his cock in my shithole. I needed him to hurt me, to use me.
The sound of his belt slithering through the belt loops of his slacks broke my dark reverie.
As he ran the loop of his belt from the top of my right stocking over the right cheek of my ass he asked, “How many fuck pig?”
I didn’t understand at first. “S-sir?”
He lightly flicked thebelt across my right ass cheek. “How many fuck pig?”
I squirmed, still not understanding. “I-I don’t know Sir.”
He repeated the same movement of his belt from my left tigh over my left ass cheek. This time the belt slashed harder. “How many times have you cum today fuck pig?”
I squirmed, still not understanding. “I-I don’t know Sir.”
The black leather belt slashed harder. “Count pig shit!”
I yelped with every blow, trying not to scream. Digging me nails into the carpet as the belt flicked down again and again, marking my ass.
Smack. “One!”
Smack. “Two!”
Smack. “Three!”
Smack. “Four!”
I squirmed, panting trying to hold my position as each blow was harder. I imagined how the crisis horizontal would match the vertical strraps of my garterbelt.
Smack. “Five!”
Smack. “Six!!!” I nearly screamed the number and dumped to forward as the belt slashed across my swollen cunt.
Bending down he snatched a fistful of my hair, painfully jerked my head up andgrew, “How many times at work pig?”
I gasped and moaned as the pain coursed through my scalp, “Three Sir.”
His fist still firm in my hair he slashed the belt down across my cunt, once, twice, three times. “You filtered fucking piece of shit! You can’t control yourself can you fuck pig?”
Unable to control myself, I screamed at the seizing pain on my cunt. “I-I’m sorry Sir!!!”
Without warning, he jammed two fingers into my swollen cunt, fucking them deep while he slowly massed my pink rosebud with his thumb.
“Ohhhhh fuckkkkkkk, yesssssssss!” I moaned as I pressed back against his pistoning fingers.
Through the daze of my lust, I dimly heard him gathering saliva in his mouth before letting a thick was of spit drop onto my shit grommet. Slowly, he began to fuck his thumb into my shit hole until it was buried to the first knuckle.
Panting with need, I pushed back against his digits, trying to get them deeper into my greedy holes.
“Please Sir,I need more!” I while.
With a malicious chuckle, he jerked his fingers and thumb from my holes and roughly stalled the two cunt-slick fingers into my shitter, brutally stretching my hole.
I tried to lurch forward at the sudden sharp pain.
“F-fuckkkkkk yessss! Hurt me more!!!” I gasped.
He twisted his fingers deeper, probing, stretching me. And just as Suddenly as he had rammed them into me, he jerked them out as he pulled my head up to shove his shit-streaked fingers into my gasping mouth.
“Clean them shit pig!” He snarled.
Gagging at first, I closed my lips around his fingers and began to swirl my tongue over his filters, greedily sucking my shit off them.
I mewled with disappointment as he slowly pulled them from mouth, glistening and clean. “More please Sir.”
I felt him shift before feeling something rough pressing against my shit grommet, pushing slowly into my hole. I twisted my head to see that he was pushing my wet into my shit hole.
I pressed back against his fingers, eager to help him. Grinding my hips until he had all but a tiny bit of red clothes protruding from my shitter.
Jerking me up to my knees, eliciting a sobbed squeal from my lips. “OWWWWW!!!”
Laughing seriously he twisted my head around at spat in my face, “You filterthy shit eating fuck pig!”
A moaned sob slipped between my lips, “Y-yes Sir, please make me your cum slut! I need to be your toilet! Please!!!”
He answered by fucking four fingers into my mouth, fucking them in and out like a thick cock.
I panted around his fingers, half gagging, drooling and eager, beaten and begging, my pale skin red striped as I gurgled around his fingers, practically begging for more.
He slowly pulled his fingers from my mouth and slipped them into his, sucking my taste from them. I watched him, mesmerized, my blue eyes flecked with gold reflecting my intense need as I watched him slowly teasing me. He eased his wet fingers from his mouth and leasurely wiped them across my left cheek.
A soft whimper of lust slipped between my lips. “Ohhhhhh.”
His lips curled in a wicked smile as he reached down to unfasten his trousers and push them to pool around his ankles allowing his hard cock to spring free. Unable to control my raw need I reached to grab his meat, but before I could wrap my fingers around his shake, he slapped them away.
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