
This story contains sexual exchanges and activities between adult males, both
consensual and non-consensual, and scenarios involving punishment/torture, bondage,
domination/submission, humiliation, and exhibitionism. If you can't bear to read
such stuff or if it's illegal for you to do so, please stop reading right now. 
Otherwise, enjoy!

This story is about a submissive young (22-year-old) gay asian male who's gone to
work for a multi-national company as a programmer, only to discover that his 
caucasian supervisor is a sadistic, boi-loving man bent on dominating him and using
him for his carnal pleasures. Just to put things into perspective, our protagonist
is slim, small and stands at only 5'2" (small even for asian standards), while his
supervisor is big, hairy and stands at a beefy 6'4".

Comments and suggestions welcome at: sub_casey@yahoo.com.



Office Slut - Part 4
(M/m, toys, panties, reluc, interr, humil, spanking)

by Casey



"RRRINGGG!!"

I pick up the phone to hear the big boss' secretary's voice on the line. "Mr Lloyd 
wants to see you now," she says shortly.

"Ok."

I put down the phone with with more than a little puzzlement at the summons. The
R&D Division boss rarely calls on any of us junior programmers and usually only
interacts with us through our supervisors. In any case, it's probably not a good 
idea to keep him waiting, so I grab my notebook and pen and head quickly for his 
room, which is located at the far end of the floor. I glance at my watch and only
then realise that it's almost lunch hour, which makes the summons even weirder. I
pass Mr Lloyd's secretary's room and can see her getting ready for lunch. Oh well,
it wouldn't be the first time I miss it, I think, remembering the day before
yesterday when you pulled me to the pantry during lunch and proceeded to feed me,
in both holes, with 'concentrated protein and minerals' which you claim was far
better for me than any fattening normal food. I shake my head to erase the picture.
It wouldn't do to come into the boss' room with a hard-on!

I knock twice on the door and at a curt "Enter" from Mr Lloyd, step into his 
office and close the door behind me.

Mr Lloyd's office is quite spacious. A big mahogany table - twice the size of my
cubicle - sits near the window with a big leather chair behind it. Tall book racks 
line the far wall and a sofa set is placed in the centre of the room, while two 
upholstered wooden chairs are sat facing the table. Mr Lloyd himself is a big man, 
about your height but thicker and with a more ample tummy that speaks of too many 
beers. He is standing behind the table with a file in his hands, and from his 
rolled-up sleeves I can see a pair of very hairy arms. By the look of it, he is 
probably hairy everywhere else as well. I almost blush at the traitorous thought. 
You would be proud if you know the sort of things that enter my mind now whenever 
I see another man, even a stranger on the street. You've always maintained that a.. 
a slutboy like me should never ever have any other kind of thoughts in my mind.

"Lock the door and sit down," Mr Lloyd orders me.

I obey, locking the door behind me and then picking the wooden chair closest to
me to sit down on. I'm afire with curiousity now but thinking that it's probably
nothing to worry about.

That is, until the file is slammed down very hard onto the table right in front of
my face.

"What is this?!" Mr Lloyd demands, his voice gruff and angry.

I almost jump out of my seat in surprise. "I.. I'm sorry, Sir?" I manage to 
stammer after a few seconds.

"This so-called report. What were you thinking?" Mr Lloyd rages. "The board had me
cut and hung out to dry all morning because of this! Your incompetence almost cost 
me my job!"

With trembling hands I reach for the file and begin looking through the papers. I 
recognise some of them. They are the reports that you asked me to print earlier in 
the week. But try as I may, I cannot find anything wrong with them.

"I.. I don't understand.."

SLAMMM!!! Mr Lloyd slaps his hand on the table so loudly that it makes me jump
again.

"They are wrong," he breathes down on me with barely contained rage. "These are 
not the reports I wanted."

I blink up at him, and despite myself I feel myself reacting with just a little
indignance.

"But.. But I was only.."

"Enough!" Mr Lloyd cuts me off harshly. "You've made one hell of a mess already. 
So don't make it worse by calling me a liar. Don't you dare." Mr Lloyd warns me.
"I've asked your supervisor and he's confirmed that he told you to prepare the
correct reports. I trust the man with my life."

Oh my. I can feel that my cheeks are flushed now and that I'm very close to tears.

Mr Lloyd just stares down at me for a little while. I lower my gaze to somewhere
between the table and the floor. Somehow, I finally manage to squeeze the words
through the big lump in my throat.

"I'm sorry, Sir," I murmur almost indistinctly. For some reason, the injustice of
it all doesn't seem that important any more. All I want to do is to go back to my
cubicle and cry.

"I will not fire you this time," Mr Lloyd says after a while, not quite as angrily 
as before. "You're new and you deserve a second chance."

I keep my gaze lowered. The fact that he considered firing me chilled my heart.

"But," he continues. "You must be punished for this. Young men like you must be 
taught that sloppy work is just not acceptable."

"Stand up and look at me."

Slowly and using my hands as supports on the table, I stand up and look up at Mr
Lloyd. The big man waits until I am fully standing and then moves around the table 
so that he is on one side of it.

"Come closer," he tells me.

Trembling, I force my legs to take me around the table so that I am standing 
before him. Mr LLoyd seems so big and tall then and I'm so small and barely tall
enough to reach his chest.

"Now since this is your first real cock-up here, I'm going to be lenient on you and
let you escape with a fairly light punishment. Something light but one you'd not
likely to forget very soon."

He nods then. "A spanking, I think. Take off your pants and lean over the table."

My eyes widen in absolute shock. I must have misheard that. For a moment, my jaw
works but nothing comes out.

"But Sir," I manage finally, a feeble sound of protest.

Mr Lloyd gives me a dangerous look. "Do you want to continue working here?" he
asks in a steely voice. "Or do you want me to fire you and tell everyone I know in
the industry how incompetent you are?"

You see, it's not just about the spanking, about having to undress in front of the
big boss. And it's not just the fact that I'm wearing girl panties underneath my
pants, either. The worst of it, of course, is the fact that underneath those 
panties, I'm wearing that curved, 5-inch-long, cock-shaped buttplug that you
ordered me to keep inside myself for the whole day. And there's no way that Mr
Lloyd is going to miss the tell-tale bulge it makes under the seat of my panties!
I realise that I'm panting now, my heart labouring like a runaway train. Oh god. He
would know. And what would he do then? What would happen to me? What if he told
everyone? Maybe he doesn't even have to. I glance at the door; I know it's lunch
hour but what if someone passes by it while I'm here being spanked? The horror is 
almost too much for me to endure, and soon I can feel the tears starting to flow 
freely down my hot flushed cheeks.

Mr Lloyd leans down so that his face is close to my ear. He iterates each of his
next words slowly and carefully. "Step out of your pants right now!" 

The authority in his voice is finally too much for me to resist any longer. As if
automatically, my hands reach down to my belt to unbuckle it, despite a scream of
protest from a small voice somewhere inside my head. And then, to add to my utter
shame, I feel my cock starting to stir in my panties. Oh you perverted little
slut! I rage at myself, but am helpless to deny my body's responses. As I look
down to guide my shaking hands, I notice something that makes my heart skip a beat.

Mr Lloyd's shoes. I've seen them before.

A loud sob escapes me as everything begins to make sense. My knees turn to water
and I can barely stand. I can feel my world crumbling down around me, or rather
myself falling down and away from the world I know, falling backwards down a deep
dark abyss from which there is no way out. I can barely grasp just how far my
submissiveness, my subservience, has finally taken me. There is no way back for
me now. How? How can I free myself from the clutches of men such as you and Mr
Lloyd now? Despair wells up in me until I am drowning in it, and as the full
realisation of the extent of my helplessness wracks my whole body with sobs, it
does something else as well, something that has become so natural to me that it
no longer surprises me. The despair and the helplessness has caused my little
cock to harden to it's full length, and to my utter humiliation my pants finally 
fall away to reveal my boyclit straining feebly against the front of my lacy, see-
through white panties.

"Well," I can hear Mr Lloyd murmuring. "Well, well, well.. what have we got here?
What a perverted little faggot you must be!"

Amid the tears and the sobbing, I can feel myself actually shaking my head, 
although almost imperceptibly.

"What's that? Are you denying it?"

This time I manage to keep my head still.

"Well, it's rather hard to see how I could be mistaken, really. Here you are,
wearing girl panties and with your dick very hard at the mere thought of a 
spanking, and all while at work, no less!"

I have been keeping my gaze on the floor and out of the corner of my eyes I see Mr
Lloyd's hand reaching for my panties. I flinch away without thinking.

"Don't be coy now," he admonishes me. "We both know you like this."

He reaches for my hips again and this time I force myself not to move away. I feel
a shiver run down my body as his big hand comes into contact with my trembling 
skin.

"Pull your shirt up out of the way," he orders, and I obey.

Mr Lloyd runs his fingers down my slim waist and then over the lacy, net-like
material of my white panties. He then runs his hand all over my backside, rubbing 
my protruding butt-mounds through the thin gauze-like cloth.

"You have a very nice ass," he comments as he continues to feel me up, this time 
pinching and kneading my flesh through the panties. "Round and firm. The sort that 
men like." I shudder at the implications in his words but can do nothing as he 
continues to touch me.

His hand begins to move further and further down and, inevitably, finally bump into 
the wide, protruding base of that accursed plug buried deep in my hole.

"What the.." he exclaims. "What's this?"

I close my eyes as a fresh series of sobs wrack my shaking body.

Mr Lloyd's fingers move to trace the outline of the bottom of the buttplug. I can 
feel it as he hooks his fingers around the base, the panties notwithstanding, and 
gives it a tug. I gasp as the buttplug slides about an inch out of my hole.

"Ahh," Mr Lloyd sighs as if in understanding. "Why am I not surprised? You really 
are one dirty-minded little faggot."

He lets go of the plug then. "Take off the panties."

I hesitate for a second but then realise that it no longer makes any difference.
Still sobbing, I hook my thumbs through the waistband of my panties and begin to 
push it down my hips and thighs.

"Wait. Stop," Mr Lloyd says as I get to around halfway down. "Pull it back up, and 
then do it again. Properly, this time. I know you can do better than that."

And to my chagrin I know exactly what Mr Lloyd means. Apparently, you and him have 
had further talks about me other than the one in the meeting room. You must have 
told him everything. Everything. All I want to do at that moment is die.

And because there is nothing else I can do, because I have sunk so low that there 
is not a tiny chance in hell of salvation, sobbing now with renewed vigour, I 
begin to wiggle my bubble-butts and gyrate my hips as I slowly push the panties 
down my young slim legs. I feel like a whore as I step out of them and wait for 
further instructions.

"Mmmm nice.. That's much better," Mr Lloyd encourages me. His voice is coming from 
somewhat below me and I glance back to see that he is squatting behind me, his 
eyes on my butt and the plug. "Maybe I'll take it easy on you this time and give 
you thirty instead of the fifty swats you deserve. Now pull your shirt up as high 
as you can and bend over the table. Press your face on the table and push your butt
up and out. Do it."

Sobbing and sniffling, I obey him.

"Push it out more," Mr Lloyd urges me. I feel like I'm dying with shame.

Suddenly, the buttplug is yanked halfway out of me, causing me to open my mouth
wide in a silent scream. Immediately, Mr Lloyd's hand shoves something into my
mouth, something soft and lacy. I realise half a second later that it's my own
panties.

"To muffle the screams," Mr Lloyd assures me with a wicked grin. I close my eyes 
and pray for the whole thing to be over quickly.

"Hmm," I hear Mr Lloyd muse. "What shall I spank you with, I wonder? Ahh, I think 
I know. Wait here. And don't you dare move a muscle!"

I hear the door open and then close. I imagine how I look like, a cute little
asian boywhore bent over the table virtually naked, with his butt out, plugged and
waiting obediently for punishment. My cock, brushing occasionally against the 
table as it is, dribbles some more precum. 

After a few minutes, I hear the door open again, but to my horror, I also hear
voices. More than one voice!

I shut my eyes tight, as if in so doing I would be able to protect my identity.

"Really?" Mr Lloyd is asking as the door swings back closed.

"Oh yeah," says a familiar voice. "He definitely will. He loves to be punished."
Of course. The voice belongs to no other than.. you.

A hand grabs my hair, pulls my head off the table and twists it around until I am 
facing the other way, before pressing my cheek once more onto the table.

"Hey there, faggot," I open my eyes to see you smiling down at me. "Sorry to barge 
in into the party, but Mr Lloyd here was just asking me to borrow my ping-pong 
paddle. And I thought, what the heck, why not watch, as well?"

You move away and grab one of the upholstered wooden chairs. You bring it closer
to the table and dump it about three feet away. Then you sprawl yourself in it,
leaning over until your face is only inches from mine. My heavy breathing has
somewhat dislodged the panties in my mouth, and you use two fingers to poke the
material back in.

"Better keep your eyes on me as you count out the strokes," you advise with that
threatening look in your eyes.

"You ready, boy?" asks Mr Lloyd. "Well, ready or not, here it comes!"

SMACK!! The ping-pong paddle lands loudly on my right butt-cheek. Despite the
sound, it doesn't feel too painful to my bum. Maybe this isn't going to be so bad 
after all. But from my experience in spankings, it only gets worse and worse as 
the beating goes on.

"Mmphhuuhhhnn," I cry out into the panty-gag, my eyes never wavering from yours.

"What's that?" you ask me solicitously. "I didn't quite catch that, maybe we
should start again."

"Ok boy, again," Mr Lloyd agrees.

SMACK!!!

"Hhuuhhnn!"

You look bemused. "Maybe it's the gag?" You reach forward then and with one flip
of your hand yanks the panties out of my mouth. "Okay, let's start again."

SMACK!!!

"One!"

"Much better," you compliment me. My ass is already starting to feel hot, and I
regret thinking that it was going to be easy.

The spanking continues, with Mr Lloyd alternating between my right and left cheeks 
and me calling out the count. I keep my eyes on you as the tears run down my face 
and onto the table.

"Are you enjoying this, bitch?" You ask, your face close to mine. "You're little
clit is rock hard, so you must be. You like to be treated like a naughty slut,
huh?"

SMACK!!!

"Four!"

"You like to be showed off, stripped naked in the office with a big plug up your
boypussy? You like to think that anyone might come in and see you like this?"

SMACK!!!

"Unnhh.. Five!"

"You'd like it if everyone in the office knows you for what you are, huh? A little
faggot slut for sex-use?"

SMACK!!!

"At night, you dream of everyone in the office using you, dominating you. You
imagine being the office fuckslave, going to work everyday to be gangraped by all
the men anytime they wanted pussy?"

SMACK!!!

"S.. Seven!"

The spanking and the goading is really turning me on, as you knew it would.
Despite myself, my rock-hard cock is dribbling more and more precum onto the side
of the table and the carpet. Mr Lloyd continues laying onto my buttcheeks with the
ping-pong paddle until my count reaches fifteen. Then there is a pause and I can
hear the paddle clattering onto the table.

On the next stroke, Mr Lloyd's bare hand makes a loud SLAP!! as it comes into
contact with my reddening cheeks.

"Ouch! Owh.. Sixteen!"

But there is a further surprise for me, as the next stroke lands, not on my left
or right cheek, but squarely on the buttplug snugly filling my hole.

"Nnnnnghhh!!! Ohhhhhh!!" I moan as the plug jabs sharply into me, forced into
fucking me as Mr Lloyd's hand slams savagely into it.

"The count, boy, or do you want to start all over again?" You grin down at me as I
struggle to deal with this new sensation.

"Sev.. Seventeen."

Eighteen goes onto my sore cheeks, but nineteen lands on the buttplug again,
making me squirm as I feel my balls begin to churn. You take my wrists from my 
sides and stretch my arms along the table over my head, keeping them immobile with 
one hand. Then, to my despair, you reach under my chest and begin to play with my 
nipple. I begin to moan in earnest, a moaning that tells you I no longer have any
control over my body.

"T.. Twenty-two. P.. Please.. I'm.. C.. Cumm.. ing." 

"You'd better keep counting, boy."

SMACK!! And then SMACK!! Two blows landing on the plug in quick succession. I let
out a long low moan as my hips begin to shake. I'm too far gone now to count.

SMACK!! Comes the twenty-fifth stroke, also on the plug, but this time two of Mr
Lloyd's fingers brush against my balls as they leave my ass. The room explodes
around me.

"Nnngaahhhh.. NOOOOOOO!!!!" I cry out as the churning in my balls reach its peak.
And then I'm cumming. The thuds are audible as volley after volley of my boyspunk
splatter against the side of the table, forced out of me by the cruel spanking. I
can barely keep my feet as the orgasm drains everything out of me, not least any
shreds of dignity and self-worth left in me. My body is now a mere plaything for 
two men, and I have no doubt that they will play with it often. As my orgasm slowly
subsides, I'm dimly aware of Mr Lloyd yelling into my ear.

"What the hell do you think you're doing boy?! That's an expensive table you're
spunking on!"

I barely understand the words. I can see you smiling smugly at me from your chair.

Suddenly a hand grabs my hair and pulls my head off the table. Before I'm fully
standing, however, my legs are kicked out from under me so that I completely lose 
my footing. As I fall down to my knees, only the hand firmly and painfully gripping 
my hair keeps me from sprawling face-down on the floor. My arms dangle loosely by 
my sides, inadvertently keeping my shirt bunched up under my armpits. The hand in 
my hair presses my face towards the table, where I can see my cumload dripping 
slowly down the shiny wood.

"You'd better clean up your mess, boy," Mr Lloyd orders me. "I'm not gonna have
your cumstains on my table!"

Mr Lloyd lets go of my hair and I begin to lick up my own cum from his table. What
a picture that makes, me virtually naked except for the bunched up white shirt,
kneeling on the floor with my knees spread wide apart, a big black buttplug in my
boyhole, whimpering wordlessly as I move my head around to lick up and swallow all 
of the cum dribbling down the boss' table. The others must be coming back from 
lunch soon. If any of them sees me like this.. But the fear seems to have left me 
for the moment. If you were to throw me out on the streets right then and proclaim
that I am free boymeat for everyone, I would only respond with a small whimper
before going down, shoving my butt up in the air and prying my own boybuns apart
in readiness for their cocks.

"Well, you're right," Mr Lloyd is saying.

"Of course. The little bitch was born for this. He makes the perfect boyslut, and I
knew it the moment I saw him for the first time."

"So Saturday is on, then?"

"Yeah, as agreed. I'll bring the videocam."

"Great. Oh yeah, he still owes me five strokes."

"Of course."

In my state, I can barely understand the conversation. But I understand enough to
know that they're talking about me, and soon fresh tears begin to flow again down
my cheeks as I finish the last of the cum, wondering why I was born to this cruel
fate.
