If you don't like sex stories, don't read it.

If you don't like stories bout forced sex, don't read it.

If you are below the arbitrary age set for your area, don't read it.

If for any reason it is illegal for you to read this story, don't read it.

 

Copyright © 2001 Norm DePloom.  ALL Rights Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.  This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.  The author may be contacted at 'MyStories at normdeploom dot com'

 

All the characters and events in this story are fictional; any resemblance to real people or events is entirely coincidental.

 

Corporate Slut

By

Norm DePloom

 

The Weekend

 

y new job was every thing I had expected it to be.  Boring, useless, repetitive paperwork with a pay check that barely covered the rent on my crappy little two-room apartment.  As I took off my clothing and stepped into the hot shower I, as was my habit, reviewed the events of the last week.  My Friday- after- work shower is a ritual that goes back to my very first job.  I normally shower in the mornings before I go to work, I had showered that morning, but on Friday evening, when I get home from work I always take a shower to symbolically 'wash the week off' and transition into my weekend mode. 

 

As I rubbed the well-lathered washcloth over my body I thought about how badly I needed a man inside me.  Since I had moved to the 'big city' I seemed to be perpetually 'between' boyfriends.  Since I detested the whole 'single bar' thing I reluctantly accepted the fact that I would be spending the evening with Vibrating Victor, my most loyal lover.  By the time I stepped from the shower and, grabbing a towel, headed for my bedroom I was eagerly looking forward to my evenings first round with Victor, even before I fixed myself dinner.  Hey I told you I needed a man inside me, didn't I?

 

I didn't see them, and I didn't hear them.  All I knew was that something was put over my head and that, despite my struggles, a gag of some kind was forced into my mouth before strong hands lifted me into the air and, after carrying me into my bedroom, dumped me on my bed where they proceeded to tie my wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed.  I continued to pull and fight against the ropes until I wore myself out and lay still listening.  I was sure there were people in the room enjoying watching my naked body writhe and pull against the restraints, but I could not hear anything but the noise of the city. 

 

I do not know how long I lay, naked, tied to the bed.  At times I was sure that I heard the rustle of people moving around the room, or soft footsteps on the worn out carpet around the bed. Then I became aware of soft music coming from the other room of my apartment.  The music and the chatter of people at a party slowly grew louder until it drowned out the city noises.  How many people, I wondered, were in my apartment taking turns enjoying the view of my naked body.  Much to my surprise my nipples crinkled and I could feel myself getting wet when I pictured myself naked and tied spread eagle on the bed with a room full of horny men stroking themselves while they watched me struggling to get loose from the bonds.

 

The first few times I was touched I almost thought I was imagining it, but then it became apparent that a silk scarf, or something light and soft, was being moved over my body.  I hate to admit it, but my desperate need to have a man inside me had not been diminished by what were obviously preparations to gang rape me.  If anything I was more ready and more needy now than I had been when I stepped from the shower. 

 

My already hard nipples hardened to the point of being painful when the scarf was pulled back and forth across them.  I wanted to scream at them through my gag.  I wanted to yell at them to stop teasing me and get on with the gang rape I needed so badly.  As soon as those thoughts passed through my mind, as soon as I realized how much I really wanted to spend the night being gang raped by a room full of strangers, a wave of humiliation washed over me. 

 

The scarf was replaced with fingers moving over my skin and, at least for the time being, avoiding the one place where I needed to be touched the most.  I was wet.  I was open and ready to be taken, and I'm sure each and every person enjoying the show in my bedroom that night could see how wet, open and ready I was.  I lost control of my hips and they started jerking up and down making sex motions in the air. 

 

The cords holding my ankles were loosened and hands pulled my knees up and apart opening my private area for the whole room to view.  I felt someone climb on the bed and almost wept in gratitude for the soon coming relief.  Kneeling on the bed between my legs the person who climbed onto the bed placed a hand on each of my legs just above my knees.  Ever so slowly these warm hands moved up my inner thighs getting closer and closer to what was rapidly becoming the very center of my being.  Just as the hands reached the crease separating my thighs from my crotch they veered upward circling around the center of my universe to run through my pubic hair.  After reversing direction the hands again just barely missed the one place I wanted them to be and moved slowly back up my inner thighs towards my knees. 

 

Hands cupped my breasts, and mouths began to work on my nipples as the hands started another journey down my thighs.  'Please,' I wanted to yell through my gag, 'touch me, take me.'  The hands came right up to the very edge of my opening before once again veering off and moving back up my thighs.  I imagined a well-muscled Adonis with a huge erect penis crouched between my legs teasing me before he takes me with one powerful lunge. 

 

Mouths sucked my nipples, hands massaged my breasts, fingers caressed almost every square inch of my body, every inch that is except the place where I needed to be touched the most.  My whole body trembled in anticipation as the hands moved slowly back down my thighs a third time.  I no longer cared who might be watching or how good the 'show' was, I tilted my hips up and tried to pull my legs further apart to open myself even more hoping to entice the torturing hands into touching me where it really counted. 

 

"No." I screamed and sobbed through my gag when the hands were pulled away just short of where I wanted them.  Then while all the other sucking and touching continued almost unnoticed a single finger touched me on the edge of my left outer lip.  Another fingertip touched me on the upper edge of my right outer lip.  'Yes,' I screamed in my mind, 'open me.  Enter me.  Take me.'  The fingers moved with expert, exquisite slowness up my outer lips.  I held my hips up, my body trembling, offering myself; waiting for that first magic touch on my clitoris.  The fingertips circled without touching and, leaving me feeling like a stark raving insane lunatic, moved back down the crests of my outer lips until they met where the lips meet at the bottom.  The hands turned so the fingers faced outward then began the slow journey back up the inside surface of my slick outer lips once again headed toward my eager begging-to-be-touched clitoris. 

 

My whole body was shaking with sobs as I begged through my gag for relief from this exquisite pleasure-torture.  I can't tell you how long this continued.  I only know that it wasn't until I felt like I'd go totally and permanently insane did I finally feel him inside me.   I started cuming as soon as he entered me and the waves of orgasmic pleasure were mixed with waves of shame and humiliation. 

 

Although rest of the weekend is a blur I do remember isolated incidences. I do know that I was taken and used in just about every way possible by men and women alone and in groups.  Since I remained blindfolded the whole time I'm still not certain about everyone who participated in my humiliation and ultimately the beginning of my rebirth as a corporate slut.

 

Back To Work

 

hen I woke up Monday morning I first thought was that I had just experienced an incredibly realistic sex dream.  That was quickly followed by a wave of humiliation and total self-disgust when I remembered how enthusiastically I had ended up participating in my own debauchment. 

 

I found a pile of neatly laid out clothes with a typed note instructing me to 'wear these clothes, and nothing else'.  I put the note back on top of the pile and looked around.  I found not a clue as to who had been partying in my apartment and in my body all weekend.  I did discover that I really had no choice about wearing the clothes they had laid out for me.  All my other clothing had been taken. Not even a sock or a pair of panties was left for me. 

 

I took a closer look at the clothing they had left for me.  It was what could only be described as an archetypal quintessential 'slut uniform'.  I found a black garter, black silk stockings (very nice, high quality), spiked high heels, a push up bra designed not to support the breasts as much as to display them, a black skirt that looked more like a wide belt and a silk blouse that was so shear it looked like nothing more than a wisp of gray smoke when I held it up to look at it.  The clothes may have been 'trashy' and 'whore-ish' but they definitely were not 'cheap' every item was of the highest quality. The outfit laid out for me cost more, I was sure, then I would make in the next month.  The person, or persons, doing this obviously has a 'thing' about silk.

 

I was learning a lot about myself in those days.  Just the thought of wearing my new 'slut uniform' in public scared me senseless, but it was also making my nipples hard and I was getting incredibly wet.  I'm sure I would have 'chickened out' if I'd had so much as a towel to wrap myself in, but they had left me no choice.  I would have to wear the 'slut clothes' even to go out and buy 'decent' clothes, not that they had left me any money to buy new clothes with.  The only thing in my apartment, other than my furniture, was my new slut clothes and enough change for bus fair to work. 

 

I put on the garter belt first, then the stockings.  I avoided looking at myself in the mirror while I dressed.  After the stockings I put on the bra and finally the blouse.  Whoever bought these clothes new my exact size.  I stood for a minute preparing myself before turning towards the mirror.  What can I say?  I looked like a whore.  You know what they say, 'Look like a whore, feel like a whore.'  Well, I'm sure somebody said it.  If not, then I guess I'm the first.

 

Whoever the group of people were who spent the weekend playing with my body they had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure I would show up at work looking like a tramp.  I fully expected to be canned as soon as I walked in the door at work, but at least if they did fire me then they'd have to pay me for a week's work and I'd be able to buy something decent to wear.

 

As soon as I stepped out the front door into the chilly air my nipples crinkled and, with each wobbly unsteady step on heels far higher than any I'd ever tried to walk on before, rubbed against the front edge of the push up bra cup.  I found it to be both irritating and stimulating.  The cold air swirling around my naked private areas sent chills up my spine. 

 

I could see the crowd at the bus stop from a block away, and tried to time my arrival with that of the bus.  I could see the men, and some of the woman, nudging each other to let them know that there was something worth looking at approaching.  I hung back until everyone else had boarded then I suddenly realized that there was no way for me to step up into the bus without flashing the driver, and who ever was seated behind him, twice.  Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard I grabbed the cold steel rail and lifted my right leg while the driver, and the two men behind him, stared unashamedly at my exposed crotch.  My face burned with visible humiliation as I lifted my other leg, giving the three leering men another good look at me.  Red faced and swallowing hard I climbed the last step into the bus and quickly moved to the only empty seat left.

 

"You'd better not leave a wet spot on my bus seat" The driver leered at me.  As I lowered my bare bottom onto the cold plastic, I could feel my face burning red and I tried not to look at anyone around me.  Every time I glanced up I could see the men around me staring at my hard nipples, clearly visible through the thin silk blouse I'd been forced to wear.  I crossed my arms and hunkered down in the seat, trying to make myself invisible.   

 

The two-block walk from the downtown bus stop to the office building where I worked seemed to take forever.  I continually pulled at my skirt as it rode up my thighs with each step, threatening to expose my panty-less crotch for all to see.

 

"Good morning slut."  Was the first greeting I heard from the security guard when I walked through the door.  I could feel my face burning as I walked to my desk.  I tried to ignore the rough fabric on the seat of my secretarial chair rubbing on my tender unprotected pussy as I shuffled through the weekend mail sorting it into piles by department.  Not wanting to talk to anyone, I kept my head down, not looking up when a shadow fell across my desk.

 

"Mr. Smythe wants to see you, slut."  My supervisor said then, without saying another word she turned and walked back to her own desk.  There's something different about her, I thought as I walked toward the elevator, and why would Mr. Smythe be sending for me and not Mr. Phillips?  Mr. Phillips was the personnel manager and the one I would have expected to give me the ax for coming to work dressed like a tramp.  That's when it hit me and I reached out to support myself against the elevator wall as the implications of my realization made my head reel.  I'd been so self absorbed, so obsessed with the clothes I'd been forced to wear that I had totally missed that every other woman in the office was dressed just like I was.

 

I leaned sideways, my head moving with the elevator doors as they closed, peering out into the office to confirm my realization.  All those ladies who had come to work all last week attired in conservative business clothes were dressed today just as whorishly as I was. I remained deep in thought, contemplating the significance of what I'd just seen, as the elevator moved quickly and quietly up three floors, where the doors opened and, after waiting patiently for the allotted time, started to close again.  Realizing what was happening I thrust my arm into the path of the closing door then, after the doors re-opened, stepped into the pushily carpeted hallway, which led to Mr. Smythe's office.

 

I was in a state of total confusion as I walked into Mr. Smythe's outer office.  His secretary was no where to be seen, so I quietly tiptoed over and peeked through the open door into Mr. Smythe's inner office.  Mr. Smythe waved me into his office without taking his eyes from the computer screen on his desk.

 

"No, no," he said when I stopped in front of his desk, "over here dear."  He finished indicating that I should stand beside his chair.  In this day of political correctness and sexual harassment lawsuits I was surprised to be called 'dear' by a man at work.  I walked around his desk and stood beside his chair.  He seemed to ignore me at first, then without warning, or asking permission I felt his hand move up my right inner thigh from my knee right up to my exposed crotch.  His hand moving over my silk covered leg was in many ways more sensual and more blatantly sexual than his hand on bare skin would have been.  I recognized the touch immediately; this was the hand that had tormented me so unmercifully Friday night before the fuck-fest began. 

 

My body responded while my mind was still trying sort things out.  Before I realized what I was doing my pelvis tilted forward and I leaned eagerly into his invading hand.  Mr. Smythe easily slipped two fingers into me, still without taking his eyes from his computer screen.

 

"Oh my god."  I whispered when curiosity finally forced me to look at Mr. Smythe's computer, where I saw a video of myself tied to my bed and being ravished by four or five men simultaneously.

 

"OH MY GOD" I repeated considerably louder when Mr. Smythe's fingers pushed against my 'G' spot just when his thumb started rubbing against my clitoris.  My body jerked repeatedly against his hand in small sharp fucking motions.  Mr. Smythe continued stimulating me with his fingers until I was right on the verge of an orgasm then he removed his fingers just as his secretary walked into the office.  She smiled at me sweetly while I stared at her with open-mouthed amazement.  She was wearing a corset that must have been laced up and tied so tight that I have no doubt that she had trouble breathing.  It left her breasts even more exposed than my bra left mine.  She wore black nylons held up with red elastic garters around her thighs and spiked heels higher than the ones that had been left for me.  Her smooth clean-shaved crotch was on display for all to see.  She handed Mr. Smythe an intra-office envelope then after giving me an up and down glance, licked her lips invitingly and left the room.  Just as she reached the door she gave me another look over her shoulder.  As she turned and walked from the room I saw, what I was later to learn was a butt plug, projecting from her posterior. 

 

"Take this envelope," Mr. Smythe instructed me, "and return to work."  As he continued to talk Mr. Smythe ran his hands over my silk covered thighs and my bare butt.  "From time to time during the day you will be summoned to the offices of the Corporate officers listed on the envelope," I spread my legs trying to entice him to touch me where I really needed to be touched, "at the end of the day you will report back to me.  If all the officers give you a good report you will be retained by the company as a 'Slut In Training' with a considerable pay raise.  Now get." He finished giving the inside of my thigh a pat.   As I turned to leave the office Mr. Smythe's attention returned to the video of my gang rape playing on his computer.

 

As I walked through the door into the outer office I found myself suddenly being embraced by Mr. Smythe's secretary.  While she massaged my butt with both hands she laid a line of kisses along my neck, speaking to me in a soft whisper between kisses.  I had never done anything with a woman before, but I felt thrill-chills run up and down my spine with each of her kisses. 

 

"Just relax," She advised me, "and enjoy what's about to happen to you."  She moved her hands up placing one on each of my cheeks.  "If you have any problems just come see me."  She said as she brought our mouths together.  I didn't really believe that it was going to happening until our lips touched and her tongue pushed between mine.  As she explored the inside of my mouth her hands moved down across my breasts and stomach then, slipping under my short skirt, she moved her thumb gently back and forth over my clitoris.  "I want to be your mentor." She said breathlessly then guided me out of the office and back into the hallway leading to the elevator. 

 

Is that what they call it now? I asked myself as the elevator quickly dropped me back to the first floor.  I walked in somewhat of a daze from the elevator back to my desk, then stood open-mouthed staring at my chair.  It looked just like the chair I had used all last week, an expensive high-quality secretarial chair, except now it had a large plastic cock sticking up right where I was expected to sit down. 

 

"It's Mr. Smythe's."  Debra, the woman at the next desk said.

 

"Huh?" was the best I could do in reply. 

 

"It is modeled on Mr. Smythe's cock," she explained half standing so I could see there was one protruding from her chair's seat also, "he says he likes to have the feeling that he's fucking all of us at the same time."  I'd never seen a cock, plastic or flesh, being pushed into or being pulled out of a woman before, the sight was intriguing.  When she rose up her inner lips drug along the surface of the plastic cock and were pulled into view; when she lowered herself back down they were pulled back inside.  I looked back over at my chair and my head spun once again with the realization that every woman in the building was working with a replica of her boss' cock inside her. 

 

I gave the chair a closer look reaching out and touching the plastic cock.  It felt both soft, and firm and slightly warm, almost like the real thing.  There was an additional protrusion in front of the cock and another one behind it; at the time I had no idea what they were for.  I knew that I would have no problem getting it inside me, in fact the way I was feeling I really needed it inside me.  I just did not want to lower myself onto it with every one in the office watching. 

 

"Are you going to sit down and start working?"  I heard my supervisor's voice from right behind me.  "Or do I have to show you how to use basic office equipment."  It was the first time I'd ever heard a large plastic cock described as 'basic office equipment'.  I wonder, I thought as I spread my legs and lowered myself onto my 'basic office equipment' chair, how many miles she's logged on one of these.  Reaching between my legs with both hands I grasped the shaft of the plastic cock with my left hand and spread myself open with the fingers of my right hand.  Then, trying to ignore all the eyes watching me from around the room, I worked myself further and further onto the up thrust plastic cock. 

 

I could feel my face turning redder and redder as I lowered myself on to my new chair while a whole room full of people watched.  When I was fully seated I realized what the additional protrusions were intended for.  The one in front rested against my clitoris while the one in back massaged my ass every time I moved. 

 

"Everybody back to work."  The supervisor announced clapping her hands like she was talking to a group of children.  I watched as she moved back to her own desk and, with a most natural and practice motion, lowered herself onto her own piece of  'basic office equipment'.   I started my boring tasks, shuffling papers into different piles, and discovered that every time I moved I could feel it not only deep inside but also directly on my clitoris and on what, I was rapidly discovering, was an equally sensitive ass hole.  Believe me it gave a whole new level of excitement to sorting mail.

 

Every time I looked around the room people would suddenly look away, pretending that they were not watching me.   Usually they would look up at the clock first then pretend to be busy with work on their desks.  I finally realized that, this being an office, they naturally had a pool going on how long it would take me to cum the first time.  Knowing that everyone was going to see me when I came, I tried to sit as still as possible while I worked, but despite the best of intentions I would, every few minutes, find myself rocking back and forth on my 'basic office equipment' stimulating myself while everyone watched.  Each time I would turn bright red and, ignoring my co-workers giggles, make another attempt to sit absolutely still.  I quickly discovered that the effort to not cum only made me more excited. 

 

I have no idea how long I lasted but there came a time when I abandoned all pretense and, holding onto the edge of my desk for dear life, rocked unashamedly back and forth working my hot wet pussy on the large hard plastic cock while moaning 'Oh god…Oh god…Oh god…' over and over again.  The people in the office actually left their desks and gathered around mine for a better view of the new slut having her first corporate cum.  My whole body stiffened and, it seemed to me, I spent an eternity dancing impaled on the plastic cock that protruded from my chair until I, babbling incoherently, collapsed onto my desktop and laid there, for how long I couldn't say, with drool oozing from the corner of my mouth and puddling on the papers below.  I was barely aware of an official time being declared and a wad of money being given to one of the bystanders before they all dispersed to their own desks to climb back onto their own 'basic office equipment' and return to their work. 

 

"Mr. Harper wants to see you."  My supervisor announced as soon as the audience had left.  Standing on trembling legs I wiped the drool from my face and, looking down at the cum covered plastic cock, wondered if office etiquette called for me to wipe it clean before I left the room.  I actually got a small applause from my fellow workers as I walked to the elevator. 

 

My inner thighs were wet and sticky and my legs were still trembling, as I approached Mr. Harper's office. I wasn't sure how much of the leg trembling was left over from the orgasmic display I'd just given my fellow employees and how much was excitement over what might be demanded of me next.  Just as I reached for the door to Mr. Harper's office I was stopped dead in my tracks by a devastating thought.  Why was I still there?  Why had I made no objection when Mr. Smythe put his fingers inside me?  When his secretary kissed me and fingered my clitoris?  Why had just I fucked myself on the plastic cock with everyone watching? 

 

I released the doorknob and, leaning face first against the wall, began to cry.  I did not like the only answer I had to those questions.  In fact I found myself emotionally crushed by the answer.  Today was not like over the weekend, then I'd had no choice.  Even if I'd ended up enjoying everything they did to me, I was still being forced.  Today I was a volunteer. 

 

As I cried and the worst of the emotions drained from my body I felt a presence behind me. Then I felt her body against mine seeming to cover me completely and hold me against the wall.  I was totally surprised by how relaxed I became, as her warmth seemed to flow into me.

 

"What am I?"  I asked with a desperate whisper.  Before answering she took my wrists and pulled my arms over my head and held them there almost as if I'd been tied to a hook.

 

"You," she answered holding my wrists with her left hand and allowing her right hand to move slowly down my extended arms, "are a slut."  She finished simply and directly, but without the condemnation usually associated with the word and certainly without the derogatory tone I used with it in my own mind.  My body totally relaxed and I would have collapsed on the floor if she had not been holding me up.

 

"But," she asked as her hand continued to explore my body, "what is a 'slut' but a woman who has decided to enjoy sex to the fullest degree possible?"  Her right hand eventually found my clitoris once again.  "We can surrender to the degrading connotation forced on that word by our male dominated society or we can glory in the freedom available by claiming that word for our own and wearing it as a badge of honor to designate a woman how embraces her sexuality and lives her life for all its worth grabbing every moment of pleasure afforded her.  Your body has already made its decision.  Now we're just waiting for your mind to catch up."  She turned me around and, still holding my arms up in symbolic bondage, kissed me deeply and thoroughly, a kiss that left me feeling like I belonged to her.  That being another feeling that I wasn't really sure I was ready for.

 

"Now get your tight little ass into Mr. Harper's office and see what surprises he has for you."  She ordered giving me a gentle shove down the hall. 

 

As Mr. Harper's secretary waved me right through her office into the inner office with a friendly smile, I noticed she was wearing conservative woman's business attire instead of the slut clothes I had noticed everyone else wearing.   As soon as I entered his office Mr. Harper pushed his chair back from his desk and signaled for me to crawl into the space under it.  I was barely ensconced between Mr. Harper's knees and the modesty panel when his secretary escorted two men into the office.  Mr. Harper stood and shook their hands then, sitting back down, he rolled himself forward and spread his legs stopping with my head neatly trapped between his thighs, my face all but resting on his crotch. 

 

I'm rarely accused of being stupid and it didn't take a Mensa membership card to figure out what Mr. Harper wanted.  I moved each of my hands up the outside of his thighs and, unzipping Mr. Harper's trousers, pulled his already half hard cock free.  Mr. Harper had one of the biggest cockheads I'd ever stretched my lips over, the crest must have stood a good quarter inch above the cock shaft. The cock felt and tasted familiar, I was beginning to get the idea that I had been fucked by every other employee of the company over the weekend.

 

I was well aware that I was being tested, and remained sensitive to the non-verbal clues being given to me by Mr. Harper, speeding up or slowing down, concentrating on the large head or taking the whole shaft down my throat, as he silently instructed me using barely perceptible body movements.  I've always loved sucking cocks, which was one of the main drawbacks to having 'Vibrating Victor' as my most loyal lover, and my tongue was fascinated by the warm, firm, velvety feel of Mr. Harper's huge cockhead.  My jaw was beginning to tire, but I dutifully sucked his hard cock until it erupted filling my mouth with his warm slightly salty tasting cum. 

 

I swallowed his cum feeling proud of myself and ready to set back under the desk and enjoy the after-taste when I realized that the meeting was coming to an end and that Mr. Harper would soon be standing up to shake their hands with his large softening cock hanging from the front of his trousers.  As humorous as the vision seemed to me at the time, I hurriedly pushed his thick cock back into his pants and finished zipping him up just as he pushed his expensive executive chair away from his desk and stood to bid his visitors good bye.  After the other men left I was allowed to climb out from under the desk, I noticed that Mr. Harper's chair was missing the 'basic office equipment' that had been installed on mine. 

 

“Very good young lady.”  Mr. Harper said, speaking to me for the first time in a deep rumbling base voice that sounded very authoritarian and 'fatherly' and caused my insides to melt, my knees to go weak and my already over stimulated cunt to go into overtime producing juices.  He reached out and ran his finger gently down my cheek then touched my breasts in a way that made me think of a shy little boy exploring his first pair of bare tits, and that turned me on in a whole different way.

 

“Patricia, my secretary, will take care of your paper work.”  He said removing his fingers from my hard nipples and turning towards his desk.  I walked back through the door into the outer office feeling confused and cheapened by his abrupt dismissal.

 

“You forgot to bring your envelope.”  Patricia said as she removed her jacket and began unbuttoning her blouse.  “I do hate it when we have visitors from outside.”  She smiled finishing her nonsequiter as she continued to strip off her conservative business clothes while she talked.  Once she was down to what appeared to be the basic secretary uniform, a corset, hose, garters and extremely high heels, Patricia picked up the phone and pushed a couple of numbers.

 

"Don't worry about it," she said while the phone rang, "we'll have your papers sent up."  As she talked Patricia leaned back on her desk and, propping her feet up on the edge of the desk, spread her legs then signaled for me to come closer. 

 

"Joanne," Patricia spoke into the phone while she signaled for me to move even closer, "I need you to do something for me."  Patricia put her right hand on the back of my neck, silently urging me onto my knees.  "Send up Jane's package."  While she talked to my supervisor Patricia pulled my head closer to her waiting crotch.  "You can send somebody else up with it if you want," I was resisting having my face shoved into her crotch, "but I think it will be more fun if you bring them up yourself."  Patricia hung up the phone then held my head with both hands.

 

"I'm going to be filling out your 'fitness report' soon," she let me know looking into my eyes, "so if I were you I'd be a little more co-operative."  She gently stroked my hair.  "After all you just sucked a mans cock to insure your employment what's so bad about licking a little pussy?"  Patricia began to pull my mouth closer to her pussy again.  "Especially since you've tongued this one before.“  I wanted to explain to her that being blindfolded, tied to a bed and having anonymous cunts shoved in your face was different than dropping to your knees and diving tongue first into a woman's pussy, but my voice was muffled very effectively by her wet cunt. 

 

"Ooh yes, that's good."  I recognized the taste of seamen and wondered who had made the deposit I was now withdrawing.  "Yes," Patricia continued her coaching, "right there, that's the spot, you've got it."  As I licked the cum coated folds of Patricia's cunt I massaged her inner thighs with my hands.  Obviously I was getting into my assignment and I didn't hear Joanne come into the room.  I was surprised when I felt someone kneeling behind me and, reaching around my sides to push my blouse up, cup my breasts and twist my nipples.  As my excitement grew I put more enthusiasm into licking Patricia's pussy.  Leaving my nipples hard and wanting more attention Joanne jacked up my skirt then slipped both hands between my thighs and ran her forefingers up and down my wet slick cunt lips.   My whole body was trembling almost uncontrollably by the time Patricia grabbed my head with both hands and ground her orgasming pussy against my face. 

 

As soon as Patricia stopped jerking Joanne laid back on the floor pulling me back with her.  As I turned Joanne spread her legs and I almost fell face first into her crotch.   On my knees, bent over with my face between Susan's thighs and my butt sticking up in the air, the only thought I had was 'When will it be my turn?'  I didn't have long to wait for the answer.  Patricia slipped down from the desk and setting on the carpeted floor with one leg extended on each side of me I felt her push my skirt up off my ass then gently caress my posterior while showering it with kisses. 

 

"Patricia." I heard the deep rumbling voice of Mr. Harper.  I could only assume he was standing over us since my vision was blocked by Joanne's thighs which held my head locked in her crotch.

 

"Yes Mr. Harper?"  Patricia asked momentarily ceasing her kissing of my ass.

 

"Ah, when your done, ah, with what you're, ah, doing," Patricia slipped one of her hands between my legs and rubbed my pussy and clitoris while she listened to her bosses instruction, "make sure these papers get filed."

 

"Yes Mr. Harper."  Patricia answered as she slipped a couple of fingers into me.  Mr. Harper apparently started to go back into his office then stopped and spoke again.

 

"When you're done with her," Mr. Harper sounded almost shy, "send the new slut back into my office."

 

"Yes Mr. Harper."  Patricia answered before she nuzzled her mouth between my butt cheeks and pressed her tongue against my ass hole.  I moaned into Joanne's sloppy wet cunt as Patricia pushed her tongue into my ass and teased my clitoris with her thumb and forefinger.

 

"Lovely lusty ladies licking luscious little lower lips."  I heard Mr. Harper saying as he left the room.  Apparently he had a thing for alliteration.  The tongue probing my ass, not to mention the fingers fucking my 'luscious little pussy', and skillfully flicking at my clitoris gave me precious little inclination for meditating on the man's verbal peculiarities.  Between sessions of gently sucking and tonguing Joanne's enlarged clitoris, I pushed my tongue deeply into the warm wet cavern of her pussy.  By this time I figured that just about any cunt I put my tongue into around there would have the distinctive taste of having just been fucked, and I wondered whose leftover sperms were making their way down my throat this time.   We must have looked like a tangled pile of body parts as we shifted positions, pushing fingers, tongues and whatever else was handy into each other's cunts until we, after many wonderful orgasms, lay exhausted in each other's arms. 

 

"Mr. Harper is expecting you."  Patricia reminded me as she, Joanne and I helped each other up from the carpeted floor after recovering from our 'post coital' daze. 

 

"I'll take your paper work back downstairs."  Joanne assured me as I straightened my blouse and pulled my short skirt down far enough to (almost) cover my well-licked cunt.  The door to Mr. Harper's inner office was standing open and I'm sure he heard every moan and groan of our little spontaneous all girl orgy.  Judging from the rampant state I found him in, I'm sure he also saw most of it.  When I walked back into his office he stood up and, with his trousers already gone and his cock already hard and waiting for me, waved me over to his desk.  With strength I never would have guessed he possessed Mr. Harper lifted my up and sat me on the edge of his desk.  Then, without saying a word to me, he lifted and spread my legs; forcing me to lie on my back across his desk.  Pulling me forward so my ass hung off the edge, Mr. Harper pushed the head of his hard cock against my ass hole.  I was glad Susan had paid special attention to that area with her tongue.  Perhaps she had known what was waiting for me when I went back into the inner office.  I wasn't an anal virgin even before they gang fucked every portion of my anatomy over the weekend.

 

"Oh, god," I moaned as he forced my ass to open for his cock.  I've already mentioned how big Mr. Harper's cockhead was, but it felt ten times larger going into my ass.  He was a gentle man, letting his cock sink slowly into me with steady pressure.  Once he was buried completely inside me Mr. Harper bent over and sucked on my nipples while he moved his cock barely a fraction of an inch rocking back and forth on top of me.  During the whole process Mr. Harper left his shirt, coat and tie on with his vest buttoned up and his gold chain watch fob dragging across my skin.  From where I laid he looked for all the world like the well-dressed corporate executive that he was; only the rhythmic pumping of his cock in and out of my butt hole informed me otherwise.  That and his smiling face being framed by my upturned legs. 

 

As I left Mr. Harper's office, never having enjoyed having my ass reamed by a boss before, I realized that it was time for my coffee break and, in spite of constant sex all morning, I had yet to be actually fucked, in the traditional meaning of the word, by anything other than a plastic replica of Mr. Smythe's cock.  Susan was waiting by the elevator door and, I must admit, I was happy to see her even if her behavior was bordering on that of a stalker. 

 

"How are you doing?"  She asked as she put her arm around my waist and walked me into the elevator. 

 

"OK, I guess."  I suddenly felt like burying my head against her well-displayed breasts and crying.  The sex had been enjoyable, even the weekend-long gang rape, but it was all so new and confusing to me.  "This isn't anything like how I've always pictured my life going." 

 

"I know," Susan said sympathetically as she turned toward me and patted my cheek, "it's really hard at first."  After a couple of seconds we both giggled.

 

"...but it gets softer as time goes by." I added through our laughter.

 

"Well," Susan added hugging me, "easier, and more fun, but I hope never softer."  Susan always seemed to know just what to say.  "No rest for the young corporate slut trainee," she continued letting her hand slip down and squeeze my butt, "you've got to report to Mrs. Marshell's office."  Susan kissed me, quickly and thoroughly, then stepped off the elevator and, reaching back through the door, pushed the button for Mrs. Marshall's floor.  As I rode back up in the elevator I couldn't believe that just last Friday I'd been depressed because I wasn't getting any sex.  I caught sight of myself in the polished stainless steel elevator wall.  My hair was a mess, my blouse was un-tucked and held (somewhat) closed by only one button and my already short skirt was hiked up and crumpled around my waist allowing my well used pussy and matted pubic hair to show.

 

"Fuck it."  I said out loud as the elevator door opened and I stepped out into the hallway.  I found Mrs. Marshall's outer door open and walked in.  The outer office was also empty and the door was open to the inner office so I continued without pausing into Mrs. Marshell's office expecting to end up with my face buried in another cum oozing cunt.   I was surprised to find Mrs. Marshall standing in the middle of the room completely naked with her secretary on her knees fastening the harness of a massive strap-on around her hips.

 

"Hi," Mrs. Marshell addressed me with a radiant friendly smile.  Mrs. Marshell must have been at least six feet tall, well muscled, with a thin waist, good sized, apparently natural, breasts and a head of hair that fell in thick curls down almost to her waist.  She was the Vice President of Public Relations, although she liked to call herself the Vice President of Pubic Affairs. 

 

"Hi, I'm Betty."  Her equally naked secretary introduced herself as she finished the last buckle and stood up.  In contrast to her boss, Betty looked to be just barely five feet tall, small breasted to the point of being almost boyish.  I noticed that her virtually nonexistent breasts were topped with silver dollar sized areola.  I'm talking real silver dollars here, Eisenhower silver dollars, not the Monopoly money silver dollars they're trying to get us to use these days, and at the center of each areola stood the longest, fattest nipples I'd ever seen on a woman.  They must have been three quarters of an inch long and half an inch around.  I was struck with the, for me, strange desire to suck on them. 

 

"Go ahead," Mrs. Marshell said, noticing what I was staring at, "play with them, Betty loves it."

 

"It's true," Betty confirmed stepping closer to me and thrusting her chest out towards me, "I can get off just having these played with," she finished as she pinched and pulled firmly on her large nipples.  I looked back and forth between the two ladies who were just standing their waiting for me to act.  What the hell, I thought, I might as well.  I leaned over and flicked my tongue back and forth over Betty's closest nipple.  I had intended to just lick it a couple of times then move on to Mrs. Marshell but Betty's reaction to my tonguing her nipple was so dramatic that I thought it would be unfair to stop too quickly.  I slowly got down on my knees without taking my mouth away from her nipple.  Betty wrapped her arms around my head and moaned loudly.

 

"Scoot over," Mrs. Marshell said as she knelt beside me and began to work on Betty's other nipple.  Betty moved her arms so she had one around each of our heads.  I wasn't sure if she was holding herself up or making sure we didn't abandon her nipples before she was finished, probably a little of both.  I felt Mrs. Marshell's hand exploring my fanny while we continued to work on Betty's nipples. 

 

"Oh, yes, yes, yes," Betty moaned loudly as her body jerked thrusting her crotch in a series of fuck motions, "oh god yes."  As Betty's violent hip thrusts died down Mrs. Marshell laid back on the floor.

 

"Ride me," she ordered catching my hand and pulling me over to her.  I straddled her on my knees then, reaching down between my legs, held her monster strap-on and lowered my surprisingly wet pussy onto it.  Until two days ago I'd never given sex with another girl serious consideration and here I was excited almost to the point of orgasm from sucking on another woman's nipple.  I sank down on the plastic cock and moaned with open-mouthed abandon when my clitoris pushed against the stimulator built into its base.  Mrs. Marshell joined her moan to mine then pulled me forward until our mouths met.  Up to this point that day, in my previous encounters with women, I'd have to say that they were kissing me, but as my breasts pushed against hers, I kissed Mrs. Marshell, enthusiastically and thoroughly, exploring the insides of her sweet mouth just as deeply as her strap-on dildo was exploring my wet and eager cunt.  I have no idea how long I kissed her while I moved my butt up and down fucking myself on her plastic cock.  I had totally forgotten about Betty, but remembered her when I felt somebody behind me.  I broke off the kiss and looked back over my shoulder.  There was Betty sporting a strap-on of her own that appeared to be only slightly smaller than the one that already occupied my pussy.  She was stroking it like it was a real cock, and it took me a moment or two to realize that she was spreading lubricant over its length.  It didn't take a two hundred IQ to figure out what was going to happen next.  I had distinct memories of being used in both places at the same time over my weekend of being gang fucked by this crowed.  I stopped pumping myself on Mrs. Marshell's strap-on and held still while Betty crouched down behind me and pushed the head of her plastic dick against my ass hole.

 

Mrs. Marshell pulled my mouth back to hers and we resumed kissing while Betty slowly forced the strap-on into my butt.  All three of us moved in slow unison as each of the plastic cocks moved gently in and out of my body.  My lips stayed glued to Mrs. Marshell's the entire time.  I can't really say how long the three of us fucked on the deep piled carpet of Mrs. Marshell's office, but by the time we separated we had each had several orgasms, and I was worn out from all the sex I'd had the last few hours. 

 

"Why don't you take a nap on the couch," Mrs. Marshell suggested giving my breast a friendly squeeze, "I've got a meeting to go to and Betty can wake you up if your needed somewhere."  I stumbled over and stretched out on the couch.  I don't know what kind of meeting she was going to, but Mrs. Marshell left the room naked and with her strap-on still sticking out in front of her.  I really had some thinking to do before I dosed off.  I was a bit concerned about how much I was enjoying sex with other women.  Sometime after I drifted off to sleep I woke up enough to realize that somebody else was in the process of lying down on the couch with me. 

 

"It's just me," Betty whispered in my ear as she snuggled up next to me and we slept in each other's arms until the phone rang, summoning me elsewhere.  I gave Betty a quick but passionate kiss and a little nipple pinch and headed off for my next evaluation feeling rested and ready for anything.

 

The rest of my day was spent in pretty much the same manner; either someone was performing a sex act with me, or I was performing a sex act with them.  Shortly after five I made my way back down to my desk.  In spite of my not being anywhere near it all day long, it was clean and neat, with all the work done.  Debra was still at her desk, completely naked.

 

"I've got to work overtime."  She informed me with a big grin, obviously excited by the prospect.  Somehow I didn't think it was the thought of overtime pay that made her so eager.  She left for her overtime assignment and I, not caring to make use of my 'basic office equipment', sat on the edge of my desk in the empty room.  For some reason I started feeling very depressed as tears began to roll down my cheeks.  I looked down at myself.  I was wearing a see through blouse that had lost all of its buttons and hung open exposing my naked breasts.  I had no idea what had happened to the push-up bra I had been wearing when I arrived at work that morning.  My nylons, garter belt and shoes were also missing.  I was long past trying to keep my skirt pulled down enough to cover my crotch.  I had no money for the bus ride home, and I had no idea what I was going to do.  I heard someone walk up behind me but didn't even have enough energy, or interest, to turn and see who it was. 

 

"Everything's going to be fine," Susanne assured me as she slipped onto the desk next to me and put her arm around my waist.  I broke down and sobbed, burying my head against her shoulder.

 

"It's OK," she repeated, using the same tone of voice one would use with a small child, while stroking my tangled hair, "everything's going to be fine." 

 

"I don't have anyway to get home," I said, sniffing back my tears.  I was appalled by how much I sounded like a little girl. 

 

"Come on," Susanne stood up and pulled me to my feet without taking her arm from around my waist, "you're going to come home with me tonight."

 

"What about my stuff?"  I asked as we walked toward the elevator. 

 

"Is there anything left in that apartment that you really want?" 

 

"Only Victor," I said after a moments thought.

 

"Victor?" 

 

"Yes, Victor, my, ah, my," I suddenly felt very shy about Vibrating Victor.

 

"You mean this," Susanne asked digging Victor out of her purse and holding it up for me to see.  I couldn't believe the mixture of emotions I felt.  Relief that Victor had not been lost; totally irrational embarrassment that the people who had spent the last three days repeatedly fucking every part of my body new that I owned a vibrator; finally even more irrational jealousy seeing Victor being handled by another woman. 

 

"Yes," I admitted softly, my face turning red, "that's Victor."

 

"Don't worry," Susanne said slipping the vibrator back into her purse and pulling me closer, "I have a favorite vibrator at home myself."  She smiled at me and her voice took on a conspiratorial tone, "I'll introduce you to Danny when we get home."  We rode the elevator down to the basement garage and got into her brand new red Corvette.  Susanne pulled from the garage with barely a pause and flipped her finger at a man who had the temerity to honk his horn at her. 

 

"The windows are tented, they can't really see us," Susanne assured me.  I relaxed a bit once I realized that the passing motorists could not see my tits hanging out of my see through blouse.  The drive to Susanne's apartment house took less than five minutes.  We parked in another underground lot and walked to the elevator.  Susanne seemed to be totally unconcerned about the possibility of being seen dressed like a slut in the basement of the apartment house.  She used a key to summon the elevator, then had to use the key to operate it once we were inside.  We rode up and up and finally stopped on the third to last floor.  When we stepped off the elevator I saw only four doors.

 

"There are four apartments on this floor," Susanne stated confirming my ability to count to four.  There are two apartments on the floor above us and only one apartment on the top floor." She unlocked the door directly across from the elevator and we walked into a luxurious apartment that must have cost more per month than I made in a year.  "The car, and the apartment, are perks of being the CEO's executive secretary," she informed me, as I looked around with my mouth hanging open.  She gave me a nudge and winked at me, "I have a better apartment than most of the vice presidents."  Susanne continued showing me around her apartment; the opulence left my mouth hanging open.  During the tour I noticed that in that whole big apartment there was only one bed.  True it was big enough to sleep a dozen people without bumping into each other.  Then she took me into the bathroom, my god it was almost as big as my whole apartment, with a sunken bath that looked to be big enough to swim laps in.

 

"Why don't you run us a bath," Susanne suggested as she headed back toward the bedroom, "run it as hot as you like."  I turned on the hot faucet to let the water warm up, then looked around the bathroom.  I found a couple of scented candles and lit them.  I spent several minutes, while the bath filled, trying to figure out which of Susanne's collection of bath salts and oils she would want to use.  Then I stopped.  I suddenly realized that I was more concerned about pleasing Susanne than I ever had been about pleasing any man I'd ever dated.  I grabbed a couple of containers at random and, unexplainably feeling like a rebellious child, dumped some salts and oil into the bath.  I put the containers back on the glass shelf and turned just in time to see her walk into the bathroom.  Although her work cloths had hidden very little, I found the sight of her naked both thrilling and embarrassing. 

 

"Take those things off and get in," Susanne instructed as she stepped into the bath and lowered herself into the steaming water, "my that feels good, the temperature is just right."  I watched as she luxuriated in the hot water clinging to my scrap of a blouse like a security blanket.  Despite everything that I'd done, and everything that had been done to me over the last three days taking off these last two pieces of cloth and getting into the tub with Susanne seemed, to me, to be crossing a line that I might never be able to uncross.

 

"I love a hot bath after a day at work," Susanne continued watching my discomfort, "come on, get in.  I won't bite," she grinned at me and paused for the comedy effect, "very hard." 

 

"What the hell, why not."  I hadn't intended to say it out loud, but it came out of my mouth anyway.  I took off the remnants of the blouse and the black skirt then climbed into the steaming water with Susanne.  She was right.  It felt wonderful.  I sat leaning against the opposite end of the bath from her.  It was so big we almost had to shout at each other.

 

"You have a lot of potential with this company," Susanne informed be as we soaked in the scented water, "there's no reason for you not to go straight to the top."

 

"Just by being willing to let people use my cunt?"  The words came out both more crude and harsher than I meant them to be, but Susanne laughed instead of getting angry.

 

"I don't get the car and this apartment, not to mention a very nice salary, because I'm willing to fuck on demand.  Every woman in that building would fuck Mr. Smythe anytime he asked, why do you think I'm his executive secretary?"  Because he likes your pussy the best, was obviously not the correct answer.  I decided to treat it as a rhetorical question and waited for her to answer it, which she did.  "Because I'm the best executive secretary in the company."  She paused then added almost sadly, "if anything I end up fucking less than the others."

 

"What about Joanne?"

 

"Your supervisor has gone about as far as she can with her skills and training.  Look," Susanne became very serious, "everyone in the company is willing and anxious to fuck.  The less aware people think that fucking is what it's all about and depend on that for advancement.  What you need to keep in mind is that everybody's willingness to fuck cancels out everybody else's and advancement becomes once more a matter of non-sexual training and skill."  The light was beginning to go on in my head. 

 

"I see a lot of potential in you," Susanne continued, "and I'm not talking about fucking potential.  There are a lot of bimbi out there willing to spread their legs, but if that's all they can do they will not make it to the top of this company."  Susanne moved over to my end of the bath and put her arm around me.  "That’s why I wanted to mentor you, to make sure you didn't get distracted from the brass ring by all the fucking." 

 

"Does that mean you don't want to fuck me," I asked sticking my lip out.  I couldn't believe what I was doing, my god I was actually feeling disappointed when I thought this woman might not want me.

 

"Oh yes," Susanne assured me as she pulled me closer, "I do intend to fuck you, and fuck you a lot."  She brought her lips to mine and pushed her tongue into my mouth.  For the first time in my life I felt all 'mooshy' inside while a woman kissed me. 

 

It must have been the hot bath, right?