Company Whore Ch. 03

An hour later, she was heading out the door to work, freshly showered, freshly enema'd, and freshly coiffed, perfumed, makeup'd, and butt plugged. Underneath her trench coat was her office attire for the day. She had spent a half hour alone trying to figure out what to wear that morning, changing outfits a few times.

After her almost-betrayal of the partners and other co-workers last night, she was ashamed of herself. How could she do this to them? She's the one who wanted this job, she's the one who was having multiple orgasms all over her boss's offices, she's the one begging to get fucked on camera. She's the slut and this was all her doing. Men couldn't help wanting to use a hot woman with enormous breasts. Especially breasts that were so obviously surgically inflated. Her fake DDs said a lot about the kind of woman she was. It was not the men's fault. So she wanted to look extra sexy today in an effort to make silent amends for her near-unfaithfulness last night.

Ultimately she decided on no panties (duh), black thigh-high stockings, her black strappy fuck me heels, a tight long gray pencil skirt that hugged all of her curves from waist to knee, and no bra or top. Her long dark hair hung in loose curls around her face and shoulders, and her makeup was porno ready, complete with long false eye-lashes, a dark smokey eye with plenty of eye-liner and mascara, and blood red lips.

Going topless felt incredibly daring, but she loved the simplicity of it. Her breasts were tingling and her overworked pussy juiced at the thought of it. She thought about covering up the bruises on her tits with some makeup, but somehow she thought Mr. Smith would love to see the results of his handiwork from yesterday.

During her long walk and subway ride to work, she enjoyed many appreciative looks from men and smiled boldly at many of them, wondering what they'd think if they could see underneath her overcoat. As it was, she was eager to get to work and please Mr. Smith.

Once she arrived, she shed her coat, walked topless to her desk, proud of her fake tits on display. She was preparing to make his coffee when she heard him already in his office. She panicked. He was here already! How could she be late? Stupid! Stupid slut!

She rushed through making his coffee as fast as she could and tottered on her heels to his door. She could hear him screaming at someone on the phone. Oh no, this was not a good start to the day! Thinking quickly, she knocked softly on his door and brazenly opened the door without being told to enter.

Mr. Smith was standing red-faced at his desk, yelling into the receiver on his phone. "God dammit, Paul, I've worked for 2 years on this account! How did this happen?!" He stopped for breath when he saw Ingrid crossing the room to put his coffee on his desk. His eyes bulged and he pointed emphatically at her and then the door. Ingrid blanched and rushed out.

She sat trembling at her desk, mortified at her behavior. Why did she think she could waltz right into his office without being told? She was terrified of the repercussions, hoping against hope that she looked pretty enough for him to forgive her. Maybe she could give him the ultimate blow job to help calm him down.

Ingrid was pondering how to make amends to Mr. Smith when an older man in a navy blue suit rounded the corner and approached her desk. She stood and smiled pleasantly up at him, pulling her shoulders back to display her tits to better effect.

"Good morning, sir! May I help you?"

The man stared at her bare chest and she felt her nipples harden under his scrutiny. "You must be Connor's new whore. I'm the company controller, Rob Sherman." He rounded her desk and raised his hand. Idiotically, Ingrid raised her hand as well, thinking he wanted to shake her hand. Instead Mr. Sherman caressed her left tit, picking up the weight of it and jiggling it a bit. "Looks like someone's been playing a bit rough with you, whore," he said smoothly. He reached his other hand for her right tit, gently smoothing his thumb over her nipple, flicking it softly.

Well this was certainly a different approach than the men from yesterday, Ingrid thought to herself. She stood there enjoying the stranger's gentle attentions to her breasts and closed her eyes.

She opened her eyes again and looked up at Mr. Sherman when she heard him tell her to get on her knees. Would she ever get used to this impersonal treatment of her body? He didn't even know her name!

"It's been a rough morning, whore. I could use a blow job. Get on your knees and open your mouth, please."

Ingrid did as he requested. She raised her hands to his zipper and tugged it down, reaching inside and pulling out his half-hard cock. Taking a deep breath, she put the whole thing in her mouth at once, enveloping his dick in the velvety warmth of her wet mouth. She suckled on it as she felt it harden and grow on her tongue. The more his cock hardened, the longer it got, and just as she felt the head of his cock reach the back of her throat, his hands descended on her head, gentle but firm. He pushed her face towards him until her lips were wrapped around the very base of his hard dick. And then he held her there with his dick wedged down her throat.

Ingrid's neck bulged from the penis she was attempting to inhale and she resisted the urge to gag, repeatedly swallowing and working her throat muscles to avoid choking. Mr. Sherman dropped a hand to her throat, enjoying the feel of his dick thickening her normally slender neck. He rubbed up and down her neck a couple times, almost like he was jerking off through her flesh, then he abruptly pinched her nose shut.

Ingrid tried to jerk back when she felt all air passages closed off. But Mr. Sherman's hands on her head were unyielding. When she saw his dick wasn't going anywhere, she at first tried to accept the position she was in. But as her vision began to fade at the edges, Ingrid began to instinctively struggle, seeking any breath of air for her panicking lungs. Still, he held her in place, pinching her nose even tighter and forcing his cock even further down her throat.

Only once he felt the slut's body go limp did he let go and allow her to pass out backwards to the floor, breathing once again. Straddling her debilitated body, he slapped her cheek gently and she moaned, eyelids fluttering. Mr. Sherman then quickly grabbed her cheeks and forced her mouth open, sliding his cock back in her mouth.

When Ingrid came fully to a few seconds later, she was laying flat on her back with the older man humping her head, fucking her mouth. She gagged, but he was single-minded in his enjoyment of her mouth.

"Ohhh yeah, get ready for some breakfast!" His cock stiffened even further before it erupted inside her mouth, coating her tongue, teeth, and throat with hot sperm. He gave four or five more spurts until he spent his load in her mouth. Ingrid did her best to swallow it all while she was flat on her back, but couldn't help some of his goo from leaking out the side of her mouth.

Mr. Sherman climbed up off her face and helped her to stand as well. "Thank you whore, I appreciate using your mouth hole this morning. I hope I'll encounter you later for more work, dear. But for now, I've got to get going and see your boss." He started to head toward Mr. Smith's door, but then turned back, waving his hand up near his face. "Oh, by the way, you have a little something on your chin." Ingrid's face blushed crimson and she ran off to the restroom to clean up her face and hair.

A short time later, she was back at her desk tapping away at her computer working on an expense report, wondering what was going on that had put Mr. Smith in such a foul mood. She still hadn't seen him since her earlier attempt to bring him coffee. But Ingrid tried to put that out of her mind, and was enjoying the novel sensation of her bare breasts being fully on display during everyday tasks. Maybe strippers had something going for them, she thought.

Abruptly, the muffled voices she could hear through Mr. Smith's office door erupted into shouting and the door swung open and crashed shut. Mr. Sherman stalked out and down the hallway, not even looking Ingrid's way. Before the door stopped vibrated from the slam, it was yanked open again, and Mr. Smith advanced on Ingrid, his face thunderous. He snatched her by her hair and hauled her out of her chair. Shaking her like a rag doll, he shouted incoherently at her face, spittle flying. And then he raised his hand and struck her hard across the cheek, sending her falling to the ground. He followed her down, yanking on her hair to force her to turn over. Mr. Smith put a knee in her back to hold her down and when, in his rage, he couldn't work her skirt zipper open, he just ripped her skirt apart at the seams. When he had bare ass flesh in front of him, he used the palm of his hand to hit her ass, her back, the backs of her thighs, never letting go of her hair with his other hand.

Ingrid was shocked and just tried to endure the beating. And then she remembered the previous day and how her begging had a calming effect on him. Feeling very smart and calculating, she started to beg.

"Yes! Please use me, sir!" She timed her words between blows, grunting and yelping with pain. "Yes! Spank me, sir! I want your cock so bad! Please beat me with your dick! I've been thinking about you fucking me all morning! Please use this dirty slut! I'm such a whore for you! I'm your slut!"

Her words slowly seemed to break through his animalistic rage. "Whore! Cum hole!" He was so worked up that he could barely get the words out.

She responded immediately. "Yes! I'm your whore! I'm just a cum hole! Fuck me! Please fuck my slut holes!"

His slaps slowed and he yanked her up to her feet by her long tangled hair. He seemed to regain a portion of his control. "That's right, you dirty fucking slut. You will take my cock in all your slut holes. I'm going to fuck you until you don't remember anything else but my dick up inside you."

He threw her over her desk, sending office supplies flying. Still keeping his hand twisted in her hair, he pulled back, forcing a deep arch in her back and pulled her hips up with his other hand. He yanked out the butt plug Ingrid had been sitting on all morning, then spit into her ass crack and used his dick to rub the saliva down her crack to her asshole. He shoved his cock up her ass in one stroke and mercilessly began pounding away.

"Take my dick up your filthy asshole! Fucking whore! You're so fucking dirty, you need my dick up your ass!"

Ingrid began screaming back with every thrust. "Yes! Use my asshole! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!"

"Tell me what a slut you are," Mr. Smith grunted.

"I"m a slut. I need cock. I need your cock! I'll fuck anyone. I'm such a huge. fucking. slut! Use me, sir!"

"Fuck yes, you are the skankiest cum hole I've ever met. Now turn around and lick your ass off my cock."

As soon as he pulled out of her ass, Ingrid pushed off the desk and got down on her knees, eagerly sucking his dick into her mouth. She felt so dirty as she slobbered on his cock fresh out of her asshole. And she loved it.

"You are such a fucking skank, I knew you'd love going ass to mouth like this! Swallow all your dirty juices, anal whore." He pumped his hips, fucking her face. Then he told her to look up at him and he spit on her upturned face. "Fucking whore."

Ingrid deep throated his hard cock, reveling in the feeling of his spit sliding down her face, knowing how slutty she looked with her eyes gazing worshipfully up at him while his dick abused her mouth. He spit on her again, then withdrew his dick from her mouth and slapped her cheek with it. Giving up on that, he slapped her cheek with his hand, loving the sound of his palm cracking off her face. Her head whipped over from the force of the slap, and he kicked her backwards to the floor.

She was incredibly turned on by the abuse. She needed this rough fucking and automatically spread her legs, begging him for more. "Please fuck me, sir! I need your cock inside me! Fuck this slut hard!"

Mr. Smith knelt between her widespread legs and spit on her cunt, not because she needed the lubrication, but just for the enjoyment of spitting on the whore. He slammed his cock home up her cunt hole. Ingrid screamed. "Yes! Yes!"

Once he established a good rhythm, he started fucking Ingrid harder, each thrust forcing her across the floor, tits rocking up and down. Impatiently, he put his hands above either shoulder, effectively holding her in place. He humped her slutty cunt, pulled out, then slammed his dick back up her ass.

"Fuck you, you fucking whore! Take this dick up your asshole! Tell me how much you love it!"

Ingrid moaned and wailed. "I love your cock up my asshole! Fuck me harder! Fuck my ass, sir!" He spit on her face again. She opened her mouth to say more dirty things, but then he spit in her mouth. She swallowed it.

In his frantic fucking, he pulled back too far and his cock popped out of her ass. He slid it back forward and found himself back in her dripping cunt. A few more strokes and he felt his balls tighten up. He emptied his load inside her pussy, filling her with spurt after spurt of sperm.

As soon as his spasms died away, he immediately felt calmer and regarded the slut below him, writhing in enthusiasm from the fucking. He saw that he had given her a light black eye during his earlier violence and immediately felt guilty. So he felt a bit benevolent and before he pulled out of her dripping snatch, he reached down and fingered her clit until she convulsed underneath him.

"Ohhhh thank you sir! I'm cumming! I love being your whore!" Her fluids combined with his, making a slippery mess underneath her ass as they leaked down to the floor.

Once she came down from her high, she opened her eyes. Mr. Smith stood over her and indicated her ruined skirt on the floor amongst the wreckage of her desk. "You seem to have torn your skirt. It's too bad, I liked the topless look with the skirt, you'll have to do that outfit again sometime. I guess you'll have to work in just shoes and stockings the rest of the day. Please go clean up your hair and face, I need you presentable for some visitors later today. And, uh, I'm sorry about that eye." Then he turned and walked back into his office, gently shutting the door. He left Ingrid laying on the floor.

Though there was a parade of men in and out of Mr. Smith's office the rest of the day, they were all studiously polite to her. Once in a while some of them would grope her ass or fondle her DDs, and one of them finger banged her wet pussy until she came. But none of them fucked her.

Towards the end of the day, she was standing next to Mr. Smith's desk, waiting for him to give her some papers for copying when she caught sight of her full length reflection in his floor to ceiling mirror across the room. Her breasts were marked with purple and green bruises, her eye and cheek were a bit swollen and reddened, and she had fresh welts up and down the sides of her ass and thighs. She was also pretty sure she had rug burns on her back. She was a mess of visual pain.

Mr. Smith caught her staring at herself and grinned at the two men seated across from him. "Yes, slut, you are quite the mess. I've instructed all company employees to refrain from fucking you for the next few days. I may be a sadistic bastard, but I do want to give you time to heal."

"Yes sir, thank you sir." Mr. Smith handed her the file she was waiting for, and she hesitated on her way out the door. All three men admired the view of the bruised slut's naked body as she pranced away from them on her heels. She turned and stammered, "I appreciate your concern, sir, but just so you know, I wouldn't mind getting fucked some more." And then she blushed red from her tits to her face and rushed back to her desk. The men erupted in laughter.

Through the open door, Ingrid could hear Mr. Smith admonish the men through his mirth, "Even so, hands off the whore for a couple of days. Trust me, we're all going to get our turn at next week's conference."

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