Nina's Story Pt. 02

"Look, Patrick, whatever happened yesterday... it was a mistake. I just came here to tell you that. I was in an emotional state, and I—"

"What happened yesterday is that you sucked my cock right here in this office like a little slut. And then I fucked you, right here on this floor, like a bitch. Just like I told you I would when I first met you."

Blushing, I try to break in, "I know what—" but he holds up a finger for silence.

"I wasn't finished, Nina. I said, I fucked you like a dog here on this carpet, and you enjoyed it. You came like a slut, just like you came while my assistant Lisa fingered you in the garage. That is what happened yesterday."

"Yes," I say, shifting in my seat to try and relieve the uncomfortable feeling in my pussy, but I instantly regret it when I see Patrick smile. He knows the reason I'm squirming in my chair is because this talk has me all hot and bothered. "Yes, that is what happened, but it was a mistake. I was pissed at Danny—"

"You were pissed at Danny," he says, cutting me off again, "because he's fucking your little sister. And why wouldn't he? She's got bigger tits than you, she's younger, less bitchy... I don't know why he didn't do it sooner. I hit that years ago."

This shocks me; I didn't even know Lauren knew Patrick, let alone had slept with him. Is he lying? I think. But then again, why not? There seems to be a lot I don't know about Lauren. Danny pauses to let all this sink in for a moment before he drops the hammer:

"The only question is why the fuck Danny keeps you around in the first place, since you can't even give him a fucking kid."

With these cruel words I begin weeping uncontrollably. I can't believe Danny told him about me being barren—my secret shame. The truth is, a part of me doesn't blame Danny for cheating on me, if I can't perform the one task a man asks of his wife.

"I'm glad you're not my wife," says Patrick, as if reading my mind, "but it is nice being able to bust a nut in you without worrying about getting you knocked up. Because there's one thing you are good at, Nina. Oh yes. You're good at being a little cock slut. I have the video to prove that."

When he says this my blood runs cold. My mind starts racing, going over everything that happened yesterday, what might have been caught on film. The garage! Of course it had cameras! But once again Patrick seems to be reading my mind.

"Not just the garage, Nina, although even a dumb cunt like you should have seen that coming. In here, too. I've got the whole thing. Wanna see?" And without waiting for a response he queues it up on his computer and turns the monitor around. There on the screen I can see myself from the day before, crying in his arms. From this perspective I can see what I couldn't see then, which is the evil grin on his face as he comforts me, whispering "Shh, it's okay," stroking my hair, the whole time knowing what he's about to do to me. I can see him reaching down, unzipping his pants and pulling his dick out, already partially hard from the sight of me so miserable and defeated. I see the initial confused look on my face, and then the blank, accepting look as I begin to sink to my knees.

After that I can't watch any more. My knees feel weak, and my stomach is in my throat. I look at the chair, and then before I can stop myself I look towards Patrick as if for permission. He laughs.

"See I know you, Nina. I know you better than you know yourself." He rises from his seat and walks around the desk. Unable to help myself, I look down to see the clear outline of his cock in his pants. He's not yet fully erect, but he's obviously enjoying this. And despite the sickness in my stomach, on some level, I am too. I can almost feel myself getting wetter as he approaches.

"For example," he says, standing very close to me now, "I know that despite this pathetic attempt to look professional and in-control, you're probably wearing a very naughty pair of panties, aren't you?"

I let out a little whimper. Somehow he knows that underneath my nice cream slacks there's nothing but a lacy black thong, one that barely qualifies as underwear. And right now what little fabric is there is soaking wet. He smiles again, almost tenderly, as he reaches down and softly cups me through the fabric of my pants.

"Mm, I can't wait to see them," he says softly, leaning in and parting his lips slightly. Instinctively I open my mouth, raising my face towards him and closing my eyes in anticipation of his kiss.

Suddenly he slaps me hard and I stagger back into the chair, almost falling. Before I can react he puts a hand around my throat and pulls me back to my feet. His hand is squeezing my neck so that I can barely breathe. My eyes, already full of tears, are starting to burn, and I can barely see. Very quietly and forcefully he says:

"Danny doesn't understand you. He doesn't know what you need. I'm going to give you a purpose in life, the purpose you've always craved. I'm going to help you, Nina. You're not going to be a stuck up little cunt anymore. You're going to be my personal slut. And if you do a good job, I will reward you for it very well."

As he says this, he reaches his left hand down the front of my pants, underneath my panties, running it up and down my moist slit a few times, then moving up to circle my clit. I moan softly. The combination of his one hand wrapped around my throat and the other one playing with my pussy has me literally seeing stars, and I can feel my legs about to give out.

"If you're a good little whore I'll reward you. But if you're late again, or you misbehave—" and abruptly he pulls his left hand out of my pants and strikes me across the other cheek, letting go of my throat as he does so and causing me to fall to the floor for real this time, where I stay on my knees gasping for air.

"Now if you'll excuse me," he says, wiping his left hand on the shoulder of my blouse while I lie panting in front of him, "I have to make a phone call."

He turns and walks around his desk, pausing as he rounds the corner to look back expectantly. When I don't immediately follow him, he comes back and grabs my hair and starts pulling me. Pretty quickly I get the message and follow him around to the other side of the desk on my hands and knees. When he gets to his chair Patrick unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers, laying them neatly over the chair. Then he sits down, picks up the phone and starts dialing, without another glance at me.

"Hey, Sandy," he says into the phone, "Is he in?"

I remain dumbstruck on my hands and knees, aghast at what's happening. Does he expect me to just start sucking his dick without a word? There's something extra humiliating about the idea of him just saying "I have to make a phone call," and then taking off his pants and expecting me to blow him. I'm just a slut now, I don't have any other function—if I'm here, this is what I'm supposed to be doing. I have to get out of this situation.

But when he turns to look at me impatiently, I find myself crawling forward and reaching for his cock. As I take it in my mouth Patrick goes back to his conversation and ignores me, but his cock is quickly starting to swell. As soon as it's in my mouth any idea about escaping the situation, or making Patrick respect me, go out the window. I start sucking him like my life depends on it, bobbing up and down, letting drool drip out of my mouth and down his shaft. With his pants off I can be as sloppy as I want while blowing him. I force his head into the back of my throat and gag myself, then bring my hand up to smear the throat mucus all over his dick, making it nice and slippery, before putting it back in my throat.

For the most part Patrick is talking business on the phone, and I tune out the one-sided, jargon-laden conversation. But it catches my attention when he laughs and says:

"Oh, you can hear that? Yeah, I think we've got us a new Diane."

Is he talking about me? Who is Diane?

"Yeah, the chick from the elevator. I figured you had heard." Patrick looks down with a devious glint in his eye and then suddenly shoves my head down, forcing himself into the back of my throat unexpectedly and causing me to gag hard, almost vomiting. When he pulls out I start coughing and spitting mucus onto his dick. Patrick laughs.

"Yeah, I just did!" he says to the man on the other end of the phone, who I can hear also laughing.

Now you really are the office slut, I think, flushing. Gagging on his cock while he laughs about it on the phone with some asshole executive. I unbutton my pants and reach my hand down towards my aching pussy as I go back to blowing him.

"Now the bitch is playing with herself!" he says, and I start rubbing even harder. "She gets off on this!"

Listening to Patrick degrade me on the phone has me out of my mind with horniness. I curl my fingers so that I'm hitting my G-spot as I furiously pump them in and out of my snatch. Pretty soon the pussy juice is flooding out, so much that my flimsy panties can't keep it from soaking into the fabric of my slacks. Tiny spots of wetness are starting to appear on the front of my pants, but I don't care. I keep going, even when Patrick says:

"Yeah, it's my best friend's wife, isn't that fucked up? She's such a slut!"

At those words I practically explode, my pussy convulsing, fluid gushing out and soaking my khakis. It's such a mess that Patrick says, "Oh shit, she's fired up. I'm gonna put you on speaker phone." Then he hits a button and puts the phone back on the receiver. He looks down at me, crouched on the floor and whimpering with one hand inside my panties. The other hand is still gripping his shaft but I'm too overcome with my own orgasm to give him head right now. I'm just shaking, looking up at him and pleading with my eyes for him to fuck me, to let me go, to just tell me what to do. I don't want to make any more decisions.

With his hands now freed Patrick stands up, lifting me up by my hair and then bending me over his desk, forcing me to brace myself with both arms.

"Now Nina," he says, not caring at all about revealing to this man what my name is, or the fact that I'm his friend's wife, "Since Edward can't see what's going on here, you're going to have to describe it for him, okay?"

I look back in horror and Patrick smacks my ass and grins. Then he starts slowly pulling my pants down, savoring the feeling of undressing me as I stand bent over his desk and trembling. My mind goes blank and I can't muster up any words until Patrick says,

"What's happening right now, Nina?"

I look back again and he's giving me a hard stare, reminding me of all the things that could happen if I upset him. Turning back I take a deep breath and say,

"You're pulling my pants down."

"Good, good. And why are you wearing these?"

"What?"

"Why are you wearing these pants, Nina?"

When I realize what he's getting at, my cheeks get red. Very softly I say, "I wanted to look professional."

I can almost feel the smug satisfaction radiating off of Patrick as he says, "A little louder, Nina."

"I wanted to look... p-p-professional!" I say, and begin sobbing. Both Patrick and Edward are laughing loudly, and all of a sudden I can feel my panties being pulled aside and the tip of Patrick's dick rubbing up and down between my moist pussy lips. Then he thrusts his hips and penetrates me, five or six inches of his cock driving right into my pussy. Despite the fact that my pants are around my ankles, preventing me from spreading my legs too wide, my wet cunt takes him in easily.

"She wanted to look professional, isn't that cute?" says Patrick as he begins pumping in and out of me. I can tell he's trying to put on a show for Edward; his hard thrusts make a wet slapping sound that can probably be heard over the phone.

"Don't stop now, Nina. Tell Edward what's going on."

"You're fucking me," I say, choking back the sobs.

"How am I fucking you?"

"From b-b-behind!"

"That's right Nina, but how am I fucking you with your panties still on?"

My body and mind are both so overcome with stimulation that I can barely think, but I still know where he's going with this. He wants to make this as humiliating as possible for me.

"Because I'm wearing little slut panties," I say. "I'm wearing panties that don't cover up my p-pussy." Over the speaker I hear Edward whistle in appreciation.

"That's right, because underneath your sad little facade of looking like a professional, you're just a cheap whore, aren't you Nina? Just a cheap slut who gives up the pussy to her husband's friends." He picks up the pace even more and I start cumming hard again as he pistons in and out of my greedy cunt.

Is that what I am? I think, but my mouth answers for me:

"YES! Yes, I'm just a dirty slut."

"What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me, I want you to use all my holes."

"What about Danny?"

"I don't care about Danny," I scream, my pussy clamping down hard on his cock, "I'm yours, I'm your little slut."

At this moment Patrick pulls out and grabs my right shoulder with his left hand, spinning me around and pushing me down to the floor in one motion. Almost immediately he lets out a grunt and starts pumping his nut onto my face, thick globs of cum that cover most of my forehead and my left eye. As he's squeezing out the last few drops he rubs his cock over my face, smearing the cum on my lips and across my cheeks.

After about thirty straight seconds of cumming Patrick seems to remember what's going on and he steps away from me, allowing me to sink down on all fours. With a final flourish he asks me:

"What just happened, Nina?"

As I start to come back down from my own series of orgasms, I feel a sense of warmth and contentedness suffusing my body. I'm exhausted, but in a good way: the way you feel after a hard day's work, knowing that you've done your job well. Slowly I get to my feet, licking my lips to taste the traces of cum there. Then I turn and lean over the desk so that my mouth is very close to the speaker. I'm talking into the phone but looking right at Patrick as I say in a low, raspy voice, "You just emptied your balls all over my face, and covered me in your warm, sticky cum."

"Wow," I hear Edward say, and then I press the button to hang up.