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PARKER11 (Career Opportunities 2/4)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
CAREER OPPORTUNITIES 2/4
By Parker
WARNING: This story contains some sexual activity which may
be considered non-consensual. As well, there is a certain
amount of d/s and blackmail. If you don't want to read this
sort of thing, stop now. Consider yourself warned.
Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute at will
(unaltered of course), but be discrete. OK?
=================================================================
"This isn't gonna work."
Rodney was his usual optimistic self.
"Sure it will." Brad was confident.
But not that confident.
"It will, won't it?" He looked over at Phyllis who grinned
and nodded in response.
"No problem," she told him. "I've been signing old dragon
breath's correspondence for so long now, no one could tell the
difference. Same with Susan." Susan Morrow was Barbara's
secretary, and a close friend of Phyllis. She had her own reasons
to hate her boss. "As far as anyone will be able to tell,"
Phyllis concluded, putting down the piece of paper, "the letters
will be properly signed."
Rodney still looked doubtful, but he nodded his head. It
would be so much fun if it worked...
*****
Robert Baxter was not generally a happy man.
His career with the Company had been a long and successful
one, but the end was in sight now, and he had discovered, to his
surprise and trepidation, that he knew nothing else. The Company
was his quite literally his whole life. He had started out as a
young clerk in the mail room and slowly risen through the ranks
until finally reaching his present position. It was quite an
achievement. His success, however, had been achieved without the
benefit of a formal education, and he had risen just about as far
as he could.
Perhaps, he sometimes thought, too far. Perhaps they wanted
a younger, more educated man in his post at the Company. Maybe
that was why they refused to accept his offer to carry on past
the legal age of retirement.
Six more months. That was all.
Bastards.
Barbara now... maybe she was different. Despite being a
woman - Baxter was old-fashioned enough to consider it
inappropriate for a woman to have a business career - she really
seemed to appreciate his experience and wisdom. She, of all the
bright, young executives who seemed to infest the Company
boardrooms these days, seemed to understand and seek out his
tutelage. It was true, of course, that she'd screwed up royally
at the last sales meeting; she'd messed up a presentation a
rookie could have spewed out with ease. But afterwards...
Afterwards.
Baxter was not a popular man with women. He'd been married
once, but that had been so long ago that he had to page through
dusty, yellowing photo albums to recall his wife's face. Since
then, he had lived only for his career, only engaging in sexual
relations to relieve physical needs.
Hookers, mostly.
But Barbara... well, she was a beautiful woman. He'd always
found her attractive; indeed, that was one of the main reasons he
had agreed to have her work in his department in the first place.
The respect for her abilities came later. He had never, however,
even for a moment thought that the attraction might be mutual.
After all, he was over thirty years older than her.
Why would she want him?
Still, that seemed to be exactly what she did want. He had
felt her eyes on him during the meeting, watching... sizing him
up. Finally, he had been unable to resist it any longer. Perhaps
it was the fact that his career with the Company was pretty much
over that allowed him to break free of his usual reserve and make
the first move. Maybe he just no longer cared about all those new
"sexual harassment" policies. Whatever, it had proved to be the
right thing to do. She'd melted into his arms, and had turned out
to be - as they used to say when he was just a boy - hot as a two
dollar whore.
It had been an exhilarating experience.
Still, he had felt more than a little nervous the following
monday at the office. What would she say? How would she act?
Would he find himself charged with sexual harassment? The answer
came to him in the form of a note from Barbara.
A wonderful note. Hands shaking, he picked it up to read
through it one more
time. His eyes didn't even focus on the actual writing; by now,
he knew every word of it by heart. By heart. Nevertheless, his
eyes scanned the page eagerly...
'Dearest Robert, last friday was so wonderful I can't
begin to tell you how I feel. I know that I often put on a
very hard, reserved front at work, but that is not the real
me. Underneath, I am a seething volcano of sexual wants and
needs. You are the only person at the company to have seen
this in me. This is embarrassing to say, but after what
happened in your office, I feel I can tell you anything.
Please don't stop. I need sex and I need it every day. The
rougher the better. Don't ask; don't take me out on dates or
spend money on me; don't accept 'no' for an answer: just
take me whenever and wherever you want. I find it
particularly exciting when you talk dirty to me: call me a
whore or a bitch - the dirtier the better.
I hope this letter has not scared you off. I don't
think it will, as you are the first real man I have met at
the Company.
Please don't show this letter to anybody.'
(signed) 'Barbara Dahlton'
That was her signature all right. He had seen it hundreds of
times before on memos and reports and the like. Even with that,
however, he could scarcely believe what he was reading.
But believe it he did.
After folding up the letter and slipping it into his
briefcase, he reached over and punched the transmit button on his
intercom. "Phyllis," he asked, "Please ask Ms Dahlton to see me
in my office right away."
"Yes sir."
Impatiently, he leaned back in his chair to wait, one hand
reaching down and absentmindedly stroking his rock hard penis...
*****
Barbara stared down at the piece of paper in her hand,
glaring suspiciously as if it might at any moment turn into some
kind of poisonous viper and inject her with venom. A memo, or,
more accurately, a note. From Baxter.
The bastard.
It read:
'Barbara: You are a great fuck. I've been watching that
hot body of yours prance around the office for years
now, and I've dreamed of fucking it in so many ways
that it'd make your head spin. Until last week, I
didn't know the you felt the same way about me. You are
one hot bitch, and now that I know it, we will be
spending a lot of time together. As well as the
fucking, I expect that our time together will help you
prepare for your new position in the company after I am
gone.
After reading this note, remove your panties and
come right to my office.'
(signed) 'Robert Baxter'
And there is was: his signature at the bottom. She'd seen it
a thousand times. Bastard probably had his secretary type it up,
she thought. Suddenly enraged, she crumpled the sheet of paper
into a ball and drew her arm back to toss it across the room, but
she held onto it at the last moment. There was no way she was
going to be taking any chances that this particular note would
fall into anyone's hands other than her own. The consequences of
this note being picked up and read by the cleaners... Well, that
wouldn't happen. She carefully folded the note and put it into
her purse.
The question now was what she was going to do about it.
Looking back on last Friday, she found it difficult to believe
that she had acted as she did in Baxter's office. In fact, the
entire episode had a dream-like quality about it. Or, rather,
nightmare-like.
What had she been thinking?
Still, it was done. And now she had to decide how to deal
with the consequences. Barbara hadn't been as successful as she
had in business by avoiding or denying problems. And this, most
certainly, was a problem.
She considered the situation as clearly as she could. On one
hand, there was the Company's policy regarding sexual harassment.
She had no doubt that should she choose to reveal the note and
make a complaint, Baxter would be "retiring" a little sooner than
planned. There was no evidence of the sexual encounter in his
office, and no one would take his word over her's in that
situation. It was just too unbelievable. That was one possible
course of action.
On the other hand...
On the other hand, her mind kept returning to that one
phrase in Baxter's note: '...I expect that our time together will
help you prepare for your new position in the company after I am
gone.' That sounded like a promise; a promise and a threat: do
what I tell you and you will get my position when I retire;
refuse, and you'll remain where you are. If that.
It didn't take Barbara long to make her decision. Her career
was everything to her, and if that was what it took to rise to
the top... well, so be it. She wouldn't be the first woman who
slept with the boss in order to get a promotion. And she wouldn't
be the last. Besides, if she got friendly with Baxter, it might
help her increase her influence in the Company beyond what it
would already be. A little careful manoeuvring...
Her mind was made up.
Barbara stood, and, wriggling her hips a little, slid her
panties down from under her long skirt until they lay on the
floor at her feet. She picked them up and slipped them into her
desk drawer. After taking a moment to straighten her hair, she
walked out of the room and towards the elevator that would take
her to Baxter's office.
*****
She closed the door softly behind her. Once again, his
miserable secretary - Phyllis, the fat cow - hadn't been at her
desk and she had been forced to announce herself. 'Once the
promotion comes through,' she promised herself, 'that bitch is
history.'
There he was, sitting behind his desk; watching her with
hungry eyes. She had never before thought of Baxter as a sexual
being - god; what woman ever would? - but she felt it now. Sexual
tension. How on earth had he known that she would go along with
his note? Any reasonable, self-respecting woman would have lodged
a complaint within seconds of receiving it. Still... he evidently
knew what he was about: she was here. She gave an inward shudder,
a little frightened at being so easy to read. It was the
ambition, of course. She wanted the promotion and would do just
about anything to get it. She deserved the promotion.
Just about anything.
Consciously trying to be sexy, she walked steadily forward,
hips swaying out a time-worn invitation. As she walked, she
slowly ran her pink tongue along the outside of her lips. She
felt more than a little embarrassed, carrying on in this manner,
but it had the desired effect. Baxter's breath quickened as she
moved towards the front of his desk. She didn't have a lot of
experience with this kind of situation - this kind of blatant
seduction - but she found that she was easily able to read the
expression in his face.
In his eyes.
Lust.
He felt his cock harden behind the edge of the desk. He had
never seen Barbara like this before: so sleek; so sexy; so hot.
It was like something straight out of a Penthouse forum or
something, and he just couldn't believe that this was happening
to him. These things weren't real.
But it was.
Barbara reached the front of his desk and paused there,
hands on hips. Baxter stared openly, his eyes taking in the taut
bulge of her breasts as they strained against the front of her
blouse - was she pushing her breasts outward?; the soft curves of
her hips and ass under the grey, conservative skirt; and, most of
all, the look of her face. She was not a great beauty, and was
characteristically wearing little or no makeup, but with her lips
slightly parted and the tip of her tongue sliding sensuously
along her lower lip, she looked as hot as any slut. Any whore.
The note.
Almost too late he remembered: she wanted to be called
certain things. Certain names. His throat clenched up, parched
with lust and fear, but he choked out the words he thought - he
believed - she wanted to hear: "Whore!"
Barbara flushed and began to breath a little faster. It was
working! She really did like it! She really did. Feeling a little
flushed himself, he rose quickly from his chair and moved around
the desk.
She burned with anger and humiliation as Baxter swore at her
a second time - calling her a 'hot bitch' - and then a third.
What the hell did he think he was doing? As if his stinking
breath wasn't bad enough, he treated women like...
Her train of thought was cut off as he came up behind her
and shoved her against the desk. The breath was knocked out of
her as she involuntarily bent forward, gasping at the sudden
pain.
"Little slut," Baxter grunted, clutching at her breasts from
behind. "Little whore."
She started to struggle as he roughly kneaded her aching
breasts through the thin material of her blouse, but then held
back. She had made her decision. She was here for a reason.
Baxter's letter had made clear the consequences of non-compliance
with his wishes. With the note as evidence she could certainly
get her fired, but by the time the shit stopped spraying she
would be out of the promotion. Best to play along; give him what
he wanted.
For now.
"Oh yesssss..." she moaned, twisting and writhing under his
grip. "Yesss..."
"Gonna fuck you bitch." Baxter leaned forward and whispered
this in her ear. She almost gagged as his putrid breath washed
over her face, but still she opened his mouth to accept his
tongue. He kissed her long and hard, raping her with his mouth
while his hands continued to maul her breasts. Moaning and
gargling, she accepted his embrace, kissing back.
As if she were enjoying it.
He reached down and hooked his fingers under the waistband
of her skirt. With one tug, Barbara's skirt slid down and fell
into a rough pile around her sleek ankles. He felt around for her
panties, but there were none.
The bitch didn't wear panties.
She really was a slut.
No longer embarrassed or self-conscious, he began to mutter
a steady stream of filth at her, calling her a 'whore' and a
'bitch' and a 'cunt' and every other filthy name he could dredge
up. It was clear that she liked it: her pants and moans got
louder and more frenzied.
"Ahhh... ahhhh.... ahhhh yes...."
By now his cock was rigid with lust. Roughly, he kicked her
legs apart and positioned his cock at the entrance of her pussy.
"What do you want, bitch?" he asked.
"What do you need?"
Her resolve weakened and almost shattered, but she held
firm. She had come this far; might as well go all the way. And,
her mind on the job - her reward - she answered in a soft moan:
"Your cock. Please... please fuck me."
And he did.
"Well," Rodney muttered, eyes fixed firmly on the scene in
front of him, "I wouldn't have believed it." He, Brad and Phyllis
looked through the one way mirror at the scene which was being
carried out in the office. Barbara, her large breasts hanging
from the ripped-open front of her blouse, was leaning over the
desk, being brutally fucked from behind by Robert Baxter.
"Ohhh... yes.... yessss...."
"She must really want that job," Brad commented. Both men's
eyes were glued to the scene in front of them, so neither saw
Phyllis unobtrusively slide a hand down the front of her skirt
and begin rubbing herself.
In the office, Baxter was approaching his climax, and his
pace increased, pumping in and out of the brutalized woman. From
their vantage point, the three viewers could see the expression
on Barbara's face - the grimaces of pain and hatred; the bright
red of humiliation - but her voice gave nothing away. She panted
and moaned and grunted just like some common slut.
She even, when Baxter finally came and pumped his wad of
sticky cum into her unprotected pussy, whined and bucked on the
desk like she too was coming. Phyllis, who had just had a real,
albeit quieter, orgasm, pulled her sticky fingers from under her
skirt and wiped them clean.
"Oh," Baxter moaned, sliding his now flaccid cock out of
Barbara's sopping pussy, "you are one good fuck."
Barbara moaned in response, but didn't say anything.
*****
The weeks passed...
Baxter was insatiable. Since the death of his wife many
years ago, he had indulged only infrequently in any sexual
relations beyond masturbation, and even then only with
prostitutes. He just didn't have the time necessary for that sort
of commitment. The job was everything to him: wife, lover,
children... whatever. That was part of why he felt such a
personal sense of betrayal at his impending forced retirement. It
felt to him more like a personal rejection; more like a divorce.
With only several months now remaining in his employment, he had
already spent many nights examining his sorrows through the
bottom of an empty bottle.
Barbara, however... well, she gave him new life; new energy.
He had never met a woman like her before. She made him feel like
a man thirty years younger, both mentally and sexually. He had
always, although he had kept it well hidden, fantasized about
taking some tough-minded business woman and treating her like a
common whore; degrading her; talking dirty to her; generally
treating her like a slut. Of course, this had always remained
safely a fantasy, certainly not something he would ever attempt.
Baxter wasn't a particularly nice man, but he wasn't the kind of
man to abuse an unwilling woman. As well, he had become
grudgingly aware that women could be as competent as men in
business. He had gradually - no small part the result of the work
of women like Barbara Dahlton - come to accept them as
colleagues. This grudging acceptance did not, however, put a stop
to the fantasies.
Then came Barbara. She was different. Special. It was her
who had came on to him; it was her who sent him that note
asking - no, begging - him to treat her like dirt. She genuinely
loved to be degraded.
So that was what he did.
At every possible opportunity.
They had "lunch meetings" two or three times a week in which
her only nourishment was his warm sperm, freshly sucked from his
cock. There was a weekend "business trip" during which he fucked
her seven times in two days, twice up the ass. Several times each
week he would call her into his office and have her crawl under
the desk to give him a blowjob. Once, his secretary, Phyllis, had
walked in on them during one of these sessions. Baxter had just
pushed Barbara's head down and held her hair so that she had no
choice but to continue sucking while Phyllis completed her
business in the office. That business, it had turned out, ended
up taking almost twenty minutes, during which time Baxter came
and Barbara had been forced to swallow as quietly as possible so
as not to alert the busy secretary. Despite, or perhaps because,
of the danger, Baxter had found the whole episode extremely
exciting and was hard again before Phyllis left the office.
Barbara had been forced to suck him off a second time.
After that, he made a special point of taking her in
relatively public places: closets, empty boardrooms, storage
rooms... She had protested at first, but he just called her a
'stinking slut' or words to that effect and that seemed to break
down any resistance.
Besides, she seemed to like it as much as he did!
That was the best part.
After a while, Barbara got used to it.
More or less.
It ended up being just another unpleasant task which was
required to get the job done. Sort of like being asked to leave
the meeting to bring the client a cup of coffee - something that
had occurred only much earlier in her career - or being forced to
spend yet another weekend in the office trying to salvage yet
another fuck-up perpetrated by one of her so-called "superiors".
And there were ways of dealing with it: always keeping a
bottle of mouthwash in her desk drawer so she could gargle away
the repulsive taste and smell of Baxter's cum; always being
certain that she had a couple of extra pairs of panties
available; a bottle of aspirin for when the pain was too great...
She never stopped being sickened and repulsed by the man and
by what she was being forced to undergo in order to get this
promotion, but she endured.
Inevitably, however, her work began to suffer. This didn't
bother her too much, though. Her actions with Baxter were doing
far more to secure the promotion for her than any amount of good
work. Besides, there were others to do the grunt work. That
stupid bitch Carol, for instance. She would be gone from the
company in a few months, but why not make use of her while she
was around?
In a couple of months, she would hold Baxter's position.
Then things would change...
To Baxter, the future didn't look quite so good. He would
shortly be retiring and, as if that wasn't bad enough, it had
lately occurred to him that he had not provided for his future as
well as he might have done. He was only now reviewing the
numbers, and they added up to something less than a luxurious
retirement. This only fuelled his resentment against the company.
Fuel that eventually set aflame a spark of an idea.
What if...
*****
"But that's embezzlement!" The words and outraged tone
sounded incongruous coming from a half-naked woman who was
stretched, legs spread wide, over the front of a desk. From
behind her, Baxter grunted in agreement as he pushed his cock
into her exposed pussy. Barbara bit her lip to keep from crying
out in pain; that first penetration of the day was always the
worst. Gradually, she felt herself loosening up as Baxter
pistoned his cock back and forth. In and out.
"Yeah," he agreed, still fucking her, "but who's going to
know about it? Between you and me, we control access to the
accounts and receivables on the computer invoicing system. We
could divert hundreds of thousands of dollars into our own
accounts without anyone knowing about it, and then set it up to
look like a computer error."
Barbara, rocking with the force of his thrusts, followed his
line of reasoning. It seemed sound enough; with a little bit of
work, the theft would be untraceable.
"But what if..." She stopped speaking and let out a little
wail of pain as Baxter lurched forward with a particularly
vigorous thrust. Instinctively, she turned it into a groan of
mock lust. She was getting quite good at faking lust.
"No 'what ifs'," Baxter answered through clenched teeth. He
was very close to coming now. "No one will find out. We'll split
the money." With a loud grunt, he jerked up against her, slamming
her chest and face down onto the desktop. Barbara's fists
clenched tightly against the edge of the desk as she felt his
cock swell up and spit cum into her pussy.
She groaned.
Another pair of panties.
After his breathing calmed down a bit, Baxter pulled away
and did up his pants. "Well?" he asked, as Barbara slowly
straightened up, wiping the thin trail of cum off her thighs with
the inside of her skirt. "Are you in?"
Barbara thought quickly. She had never before considered
embezzling money from the Company, but Baxter's analysis was
accurate: between the two of them, they could get the money out
and set things up so no one would ever suspect them. Really, it
was too good an offer to pass up; it might even provide some
compensation for the humiliation and degradation she was
suffering at the hands of this asshole.
Maybe she could even find some way to pin it on him later.
"I'm in," she told him.
In the little alcove, Brad looked over at Rodney. "This is
getting a little serious," he said.
Rodney nodded in agreement, his face glum.
"What do you want to do?"
Brad shrugged. "I don't know," he answered.
But he did know. A slow smile lit up his face. "But I think
that things have gone far enough now that maybe we can help Carol
keep her job here."
Rodney grunted and looked doubtful, but didn't contradict
his friend.
*****
"Ohmigod... I don't believe this!"
Carol covered her mouth with her small hands, blushing a
pretty shade of red as she watched Barbara Dahlton take Baxter's
cock in her hands and lather her tongue all over the swollen
cockhead. The licking and slurping sounds were clearly audible
through the microphones.
To say that this had all come as a surprise to her would be
something of an understatement. Earlier that day, Brad Tymmens
had come to her with a stack of computer printouts, a spreadsheet
and an incredible story. An unbelievable story. The printouts had
been simple. They had demonstrated a course of systematic
tampering with the accounts receivable area of the firm's
accounting system. According to the modifications, a percentage
of certain amounts would never appear on the general accounts
ledger, instead being rerouted to a private account. The
spreadsheets had demonstrated the reason behind the
modifications. For someone with Carol's education and
intelligence, the story had been plain: someone was defrauding
the company of tens of thousands of dollars. At least.
At first, Carol almost thought that Brad had been accusing
her of the embezzlement. Her position at the Company was very
precarious; everyone knew that she was to be "let go" after her
one year contract was up, and apparently Barbara Dahlton - that
bitch! - had spread the word that she was not to receive any
assignments much more difficult than typing or filing. Carol had
thus been surprised when, over the last few weeks, Barbara had
been sending her some more challenging work, but she figured that
Barbara was now so certain that Carol had no future in the
Company it no longer mattered whether she got the work. That was
why she found it difficult to believe when Brad told her that he
was attempting to help her; once Barbara got Baxter's position,
Brad's own job would be on the line.
Brad's story... well, that was something else altogether.
No matter how much Carol despised the older woman, she found
it difficult to believe that she would sink so low as to sleep
with Robert Baxter to get the promotion. No woman would do that.
Even without the halitosis, Baxter was a repulsive old man.
Besides, Barbara didn't need to go to such lengths; she had been
up for that promotion for months. It was pretty much settled.
Brad's story didn't make any sense.
And that was why, when she finally did let Brad talk her
into accompanying him to the alcove outside Baxter's office, she
had been so shocked to see Barbara Dahlton kneel down before
Baxter to gobble hungrily at the man's cock.
"Whore," Baxter growled, grabbing at Barbara's thick, brown
hair. "Cocksucker." Barbara moaned loudly and slid her lips down
the length of her superior's cock.
Carol could feel herself blush as she stared at the sexual
activity taking place in the next room. She was not a prude - nor
was she totally inexperienced sexually - but she still felt a
little embarrassed watching something like this. Particularly in
the company of a man. Even more particularly in the company of a
man to whom she felt a strong attraction.
Like Brad Tymmens.
With his dark hair and grey eyes.
Embarrassment aside, however, she felt a strong sense of
fascination at the scene in front of her. Baxter was treating
Barbara like dirt - like a lowly slut - and she seemed to love
it! Every time Baxter called her a 'bitch' or a 'slut', Barbara
seemed to moan with excitement. It seemed to make her hot. BUT
CAROL KNEW IT WASN'T TRUE! Brad had told her everything,
including how he and Rodney and Phyllis had tricked Baxter and
Barbara into believing that the other one really enjoyed such
behaviour. Baxter honestly believed that Barbara liked being
degraded and treated in such a manner, while Barbara understood
that she was to behave in a certain way if she wished to receive
the promotion. In reality, Barbara hated what was happening.
And that, Carol realized with a small shiver of excitement,
was exactly what fascinated her about the activity taking place
in Baxter's office. Barbara hated it, but was being forced to
submit regardless.
Almost involuntarily, the small blonde woman reached down
and began rubbing her hand over her crotch.
"Bend over you bitch," he ordered. "Let's see some cunt."
Obediently, Barbara leaned forward over Baxter's desk,
pulled up her skirt - no panties - and reached back to spread her
asscheeks. Her pussy was clearly displayed.
Baxter reached down and began playing with it.
That was enough.
Brad had made his point. He turned to usher the younger girl
out of the room, certain that she had seen more than enough. Poor
girl was probably so embarrassed that...
He turned to speak, but quickly choked back the words. The
"poor girl" was slowly running her hands up and down the outside
of her skirt at crotch level, staring open-mouthed at the scene
taking place in the adjoining office. Her face was flushed, but
not with embarrassment.
"Carol..."
Baxter teased and poked at Barbara's exposed pussy; he made
a game of it, running his talon-like fingers up and down the
outside of the woman's cuntlips for a few moments and then
sliding them inside. Barbara twitched and moaned at his
attentions, but didn't protest.
"Like it," he asked, voice hoarse, "don't you bitch?"
"Ohhh... yessss...."
Carol had never felt anything like it. Quite aside from her
hatred of the older woman, the thought of another woman being
forced to submit herself like this when she didn't want to was...
well, for lack of a better word, it was delicious.
Delicious.
The small blonde woman felt herself going all warm and wet
inside her own crotch as she watched her tormentress submit to
having her pussy played with by the repulsive Baxter.
Carol had, quite simply, never felt such a rush of sexual
pleasure.
"Carol..."
It was Brad. He could see her reaction to the events in the
next room, but she didn't care. It didn't matter. He was the one
who had set this all up; he was the one who had showed her this,
and allowed her this chance for revenge.
Without hesitation, she threw her arms around his neck and
brought her lips up to his in a passionate kiss. He resisted for
a moment - surprised - but quickly gave way, melting into her
embrace. Their tongue met and explored each other in a frenzy of
sudden passion.
As always, Barbara had to fight back the urge to gag when
forced to kiss the older man. As well as his breath, the feel of
his cracked lips and slimy tongue in her mouth made her sick to
her stomach. She held back, though. Baxter had set her up on his
desk, and was now in the final stages of "foreplay".
"Wanna be fucked?" he growled.
"Yesss," she moaned in response, "Please fuck me."
It would be over soon...
"Fuck me Brad," Carol moaned.
She was sitting on the side of the small desk, legs spread
and wrapped around Brad's own legs. Her arms encircled his neck,
pulling him forward into her embrace. As they kissed, Brad had
undone her top and unclipped her bra, exposing her small breast
to his touch. The nipples sat, rock hard on her chest as he
gently and then passionately ran his hands along them.
Carol reached down and undid her skirt. Brad stepped back,
and she let it slide to the floor, where it was quickly joined by
her panties.
"Oh Brad," she whispered as he undid his own pants...
"Unhh..." Barbara grunted in pain and discomfort as Baxter
drove his prick into her pussy with one quick surge. She quickly
turned it into a groan of lust, and he didn't notice anything
wrong. Almost immediately, he began pumping his cock in and out
of her unresisting pussy.
Barbara stifled a groan of pain.
Almost over...
Carol sighed with pleasure as Brad's penis slowly filled her
pussy. The steady rhythm of movement against her clit sent waves
of warmth and pleasure shooting up through her belly and into her
breasts. Moaning, she once again wrapped her legs around behind
him and began moving in time with his gentle thrusts...
The two couples came at the same time.
Carol and Brad picked up the rhythm and then pulled each
other together into a tight, sweaty embrace as they each orgasmed
simultaneously. Baxter stiffened and grunted as he dumped a load
of sperm into Barbara's pussy. Barbara moaned and bucked as he
came, trying her best to give the impression that she was coming.
Baxter was fooled, but Carol, watching wide-eyed over Brad's
shoulder wasn't. That fact - Barbara's faked orgasm - allowed her
to come a second time, revelling in the humiliation of the woman
who had been tormenting her for so long.
And it gave her an idea.
And so, as she and Brad slowly disengaged; as Baxter pulled
his cum-soaked penis out of Barbara's sopping pussy and ordered
the woman to clean it off with her mouth, Carol smiled
maliciously at Brad.
"That was great," she said, running her hand through her
lover's sweat-soaked hair, "but it's not enough."
"W-what do you mean?"
"All this." Carol gestured towards the adjoining office,
where Barbara was busily slurping away at Baxter's cock. "The
humiliation... it's great. But it's just the beginning."
"I don't understand." Brad was still in a bit of a daze from
the sex.
"Don't you see," Carol asked. She pointed towards the pile
of computer printouts and spreadsheets. "We've got enough there
to put both her and Baxter away for some time." The blonde woman
gave a smile that both frightened and attracted him at the same
time.
"She's ours," Carol laughed. "Barbara belongs to us now."
END PART TWO
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