At the Office Party and After


This story is a work of fiction. It was originally written as part of
an ongoing role-playing scene, and is purely a fantasy. If you are
offended by fantasy descriptions of rough or nonconsensual sex, you
should not read this story, nor should you read it if you are under 18
years of age. The story was written for White Shadow's Nasty Stories.
The holder of copyright--shallowmask@hotmail.com--gives readers his
permission to copy the story, but only if this disclaimer is copied as
well.*****


We'd just won a big case, and there was a huge party in the office.
The usual drinking and flirting, sure, but it went on and on, getting
genuinely wild. Four or five of us were flocked around a hot young
paralegal: Becky was twenty-four, twenty-five, in that range, with
long red hair and that incredibly pale redhead skin, green eyes, cute
little tits and a cute little butt. She was a hardcore flirt: if she
brought something into my office, she was all winks and smiles,
licking her lips and leaning forward over my desk, giving me a long
look down her blouse. She gave this treatment to lots of folks, but it
was good-natured, and she didn't seem like a tease. In fact, I knew a
couple of guys who'd gone out with her a few times; they both said she
was a hot fuck, that she was ready for anything. So when Becky started
drinking and flirting hard at this party, talking about how much she'd
like to be the center of a gangbang, a number of us-three guys and one
woman-took notice. We were kind of looking at Becky and looking at
each other, trying to figure out how we could bring this off.

This is the age of sexual harassment, so we were as cautious as we
could manage. Somebody found a conference room on a floor where most
everyone seemed to have gone home-the party was on another floor. No
sooner do we get in the room and get the door locked, but Becky was
bent over the conference table with her skirt pulled up and her ass
wiggling in the air, talking in a little girl voice about how bad
she's been, saying she needed to be punished, and hard. It was
actually pretty comical, hard to take seriously, like a bad porn
movie. But, you know, it worked too . . . I mean, that little ass was
irresistible.

We stood around giggling nervously, but not for long. Eric went first,
rubbing his right hand against Becky's panties, then slowly pulling
them down. They fell around her ankles and Becky pushed her butt back
toward Eric, pleading with him to smack her hard, to teach her a
lesson for being such a bad little slut. It was embarrassing, and I
could tell Eric was having trouble making himself do it, especially
with all of us nervously watching. Finally though he couldn't resist,
tentatively smacking Becky's milk-white ass once then twice.

"Harder, please, Sir," Becky pleaded, "I need it really hard. You can
blister my ass just like daddy used to - that's the only way I'll
learn not to be such a filthy office whore, Sir." And she pushed that
tight little ass, just a trace of pink showing from the two light
blows, back toward Eric. Eric kind of lost control for a few seconds,
slapping wildly at Becky's ass, some of his blows barely landing, he
was smacking so furiously. They weren't hard smacks, I could tell, but
when he connected the sound was loud and Becky squealed and squirmed.
Her little butt was starting to redden, even though Eric really wasn't
hitting her too hard - she had such a pale complexion even little
smacks showed up bright on her skin.

When Eric was ready for a break, I took my turn. Looking around the
room, I could see how horny all of us were. Clark was openly rubbing
his cock frenetically through his expensive wool pants and, even more
surprisingly, Claire had her hand down her skirt, fingering herself.
Her face was blotched with red and she was breathing hard; her eyes
were glazed as she stared at Becky's reddened ass.

And of course Becky herself was excited: she was pushing her butt back
toward me, arching her back, begging me, "Oh please! please! spank me
Bobby! hit me hard! I can take it, Sir, I'm a slut and I like to be
spanked as hard as you can!"

Before I smacked her, I put my hand against Becky's lovely cunt - with
its beautiful red fur, I'd never seen a real redhead up close down
there - and felt how wet she was. The heat coming off her pussy and
ass was astonishing.

I'd spanked women before, and enjoyed it; I knew I could do a little
better than Eric had. I also wanted to see if Becky really got off on
spankings - I had a girlfriend once who could come from being
spanking, if you smacked her just right - or if this was just a casual
flirtatious thing with her. I had hopes that Becky was one of those
rare women - a real slut who simply couldn't get enough, always ready
for anything. If she was, well, let's say I had some plans that I
thought she might be interested in . . .

I pressed my left arm hard across Becky's back, pinning her to the
conference table. She was squealing and struggling, trying to reach
back to get at the arm that was holding her down. I began to spank her
sweet pale ass, a few strokes to warm up, and then I started putting
some force into the blows. It was just my bare hand of course, and
since I was holding her with my other arm I couldn't really get my
full weight behind each swat, but I was slapping as hard as I could.
Much harder than Eric had, and much faster too - no time for the "oh
sir please harder" show between swats. Becky's ass quickly became
bright red, and the red began to deepen as I administered a couple
dozen hard blows in rapid succession. Becky was looking back at me: I
could see her eyes watering, but also a blissful smile - tightening to
a little wince each time my hand connected with her lovely flesh. I
gave her forty strokes, most of them pretty hard. She took them well
and I could tell she enjoyed herself: her pink little cunt with its
lovely fringe of red hair was opened up and actually oozing wetness.
After I finished spanking her, I spread her legs out wide so everyone
could get a good look at how wet she was.

I guess seeing Becky's reddened ass and her sopping pussy was too much
for Claire: she rushed to Becky's ass and began to lick and kiss and
soothe it. I stepped to the side of the table, right next to Becky's
face.

She looked up at me with a wry smile and said, "Well, that was a
surprise.. I never would have guessed. We need to get together alone
sometime . . ."

As Becky pushed her sore ass back against Claire's hungry mouth, she
reached a hand out and gave my crotch a rough squeeze.

That was enough for me. I unzipped and managed to get my cock out of
my underwear. It was painfully hard, already wet on the tip with clear
precum, stiff and straining to get at Becky. She grasped my balls
roughly and gave them a hard little tug, pulling me toward her. She
sighed as Claire pushed her tongue inside her marshy red haired little
pussy and then popped the head of my cock inside her mouth.

Becky was in a funny position, flat on the conference table with her
bruised ass in the air, her head turned to the side. She couldn't take
much of my cock in, turned like that, but she made up for it by
working the head furiously with her tongue, and squeezing the hell out
of my balls with her hand. Becky had sucked a lot of cock, it was
clear. I put my hands on the back of her head and pulled her toward me
a little, not roughly really, but firmly and as much as her awkward
position would allow. Becky was sucking hard, licking and probing with
her tongue against my peehole, and as she sucked, in between the sound
of her taking in big breaths of air through her nose, little moans
were escaping from the sides of her mouth.

We were so caught up in playing with Becky that none of us heard the
door being unlocked, opening . . . until we looked over and saw Lisa
standing there, watching our activities disdainfully. Lisa is a young
partner, very pretty but very harsh. Demanding, all business, a little
cold. Exactly the sort we did not want to catch us in the midst of
playing with Becky. We all looked up, startled: Becky took her mouth
off my cock, Claire took her fingers out of Becky's cunt, Becky tried
to sit up gracefully.

I gingerly made a move to tuck my cock back into my pants, but Lisa
said: "Just leave that disgusting penis where it is, Bobby. Look at
this crowd. Precisely who I would've guessed would be involved in some
kind of juvenile sex with poor desperate Becky. This is an
embarrassment; I'm not going to report you all, because that could
only do damage to the firm and now that I'm a partner I have to think
about things like that, unfortunately. But I know who all of you are
and I've got a good memory: I'm going to keep a close watch on each of
you from now on, understand? This kind of thing just sickens me. And
not for the reasons you think either. The whole thing is so childish .
. . it's as if none of you understand anything about sex. You're in
here acting out some kind of ridiculous slut spanking fantasy like
you've read about in letters to Penthouse or some other equally
laughable source.. It's just pathetic. Now, all of you put your
clothes back on and either go back to the party or go home. The little
wet dream you've all been acting out here is now officially over."

Sheepishly, everyone started to adjust his or her clothes. The
fantastic moment was over now, and we were supposed to feel bad. One
by one we droopily crept out of the conference room, as Lisa watched;
I kept my head well down to keep from meeting her eyes. I went back to
my office shamefully, hoping Lisa wouldn't say anything else to me. I
closed and locked my office door behind me.

But my cock was still hard, thinking about spanking Becky, about her
sucking my cock, and about what would've happened later if the
high-and-mighty Lisa had not intervened. I was pretty angry at Lisa. I
mean, I've reached the age when it has become clear to me that wild
group spankings and such aren't going to happen very often over the
course of the rest of my life. When I was in college, I thought that
wild sexual encounters of various sorts would continue with some
regularity-just like they had in college-every few months or so, at
least until I was fifty or so. Things hadn't turned out like that,
however. Not at all. Thinking about Lisa, standing there watching us
while giving us a haughty lecture on how juvenile and pathetic we all
were, made me furious-she had deprived me of an important experience,
an experience of a sort that was few and far between. Maybe this was
the last time I'd ever get to have an experience exactly like this.
And what was it to Lisa, anyway? I knew she wasn't offended-she was
just being a bitch because she had the power to be one. And lecturing
us that we were juvenile . . . so what? Why did she care?

The more I thought about it, the madder I got. But my cock was, if
anything, harder. I'd always found Lisa attractive, had frequently
masturbated with her in mind. She was very pretty and even though she
kept her body well-hidden in neatly tailored suits, the cold
businesswoman act she sometimes affected was barely convincing. She
always presented herself as someone who was utterly bored with office
gossip about sex, but I got the feeling it was a boredom came from
being sexually jaded, overexperienced, not from a lack of interest.
And I also always got the feeling that Lisa wanted everyone to read
her disdain for office sexual discussions precisely that way - so the
tone her lecture to us had taken was no real surprise to me. In fact,
she probably got off on lecturing us, on calling us sexual juveniles,
not just on the rush of power it gave her, or on our humiliation, but
also on getting to imply that somehow she was a sexual sophisticate, a
connoisseur who regularly experienced pleasures we wouldn't even
understand.

The more I thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. It was
a kind of teasing, really: Lisa lording it over us as a kind of sexual
know-it-all, presenting herself as a sort of woman whose desires none
of us juveniles could begin to comprehend and whose needs none of us
could begin to satisfy. Lisa was just a rarified kind of tease, who
probably would think about her catching and lecturing us while she
masturbated later. I could imagine her self-satisfied smirk giving way
to little smug gasps of pleasure as she rubbed her pussy and thought
of how she humiliated us. It was sickening.

Somehow though I was absolutely sure that Lisa had been
extraordinarily turned on by the whole incident. Then the thought
occurred to me: maybe she was still here, in her office, playing with
herself. Or, if that was too much to hope for, maybe she was still
here, fantasizing about catching us, about showing all of us the naked
contempt she felt for us, not really masturbating but daydreaming,
lost in thoughts that made her pussy wet. I stuffed my cock into my
pants and went to see if Lisa was still around. I listened outside her
office for a bit, and sure enough it appeared that she was still in
there. I couldn't tell what she was doing, could just hear a few faint
noises, just enough to tell me she was there. In a way, of course, I
hoped to walk in on Lisa with her skirt pulled up and her pantyhose
down and two or three fingers just buried in her cunt, wriggling and
moaning as she brought herself off, but I also figured that if she
were really masturbating in her office she'd at least be careful
enough to lock the door-and then I wouldn't be able to catch her doing
anything.

I turned the handle to Lisa's door, and it opened - I stepped in
without knocking, pressed the button to lock the door, and then shut
it quickly behind me. Lisa was clearly irritated to see me, but also
unnerved. Her face seemed a little red, her breathing audible, and a
little hard; ragged, and uneven-but maybe that was just my
imagination.

"What do you want, Bobby?" Lisa asked gruffly. "Here to plead for some
kind of special favor? Forget it-I'm not reporting you childish
perverts and that's the only deal you're getting from me."

I walked over and leaned across Lisa's desk, bringing my face close to
hers. This flustered her a little, I could tell, but she managed to
glare straight back at me, maintaining her cool.

I said: "Lisa, I'm not here to beg forgiveness. I'm here to ask you a
simple question: is your pussy wet right now?"

She laughed, but also blushed. "I'm really not in the mood to flirt
with you right now Bobby-why don't you see if Becky's still around,
she might be more receptive to that sort of question."

I didn't move, kept staring right at Lisa, and said nothing.

"Just get the hell out of here, Bobby, I don't have time for this sort
of game." I still didn't flinch, there was another long uncomfortable
pause, then I said: "It's clear to me Lisa that you are in the mood,
that being a bitch and a cocktease is what gets you in the mood. I've
figured you out, Lisa. Nothing gets you hotter that pretending you've
cornered the market on some sort of sexual secret the rest of us have
no access to."

Lisa quickly moved to slap my face, but I caught her arm and twisted
it behind her, bending her toward me over her desk and pinning her.
Holding Lisa as firmly as I could, I stepped around to the other side
of the desk and grabbed her other arm, forcing her down flat against
the hard surface of the desk.

"You stupid asshole," Lisa hissed at me, "I'll scream my head off and
you'll soon find yourself in prison if you don't let me go this
second."

"The floor is pretty much empty, Lisa, unless Clark and Claire are
still in their offices. They were there with Becky, you know. You just
insulted them and spoiled their fun too, just like you did for me. If
they knew I had you pinned down like this, they might come running . .
. to help me, though, not you. I think Clark is a much less
understanding guy than I am, Lisa, and the three of us together, well,
I'm sure we could make this a very long night for you . . . wouldn't
you just rather deal with me? Even if I keep you here for a few hours,
it won't be so bad, not too rough, you may even get to like it . . . "

"You fucking moron, do you actually think you'll be able to rape me
and get away with it? You must have some kind of fantasy of spending
rest of your life in prison because that's what's going to happen if
you push this any further . . . just let me go now, Bobby, and I'll
keep quiet, nobody will know about this . . ."

I pressed my full weight against Lisa, keeping her pinned. I continued
to hold her wrists behind her back in one hand, leaning forward on top
of them too. With my free hand I began to pull Lisa's tight skirt
down. I heard a whimper and saw that her eyes were starting to fill
with tears.

"Please, Bobby, please, don't do this, please, just stop now. Please,
I'll give you whatever else you want, but not this . .. "

"But this is exactly what I want Lisa; I want to force you to fuck me.
You think you're so much more sophisticated than me, that I'm nothing
to you sexually? You feel how hard I am, Lisa, feel my cock pushing
against you through my pants? Soon I'm going to give you all you can
take sexually, Lisa, I'm going to enjoy raping you. Don't think I
haven't thought about it before. I've masturbated to the thought of
forcing my cock into your little pussy many times, Lisa, many, many
times. And you know what? I have a suspicion that you are going to
like it more than a little bit, Lisa? Am I right?"

"No," she almost screamed, "no! I don't want this, you fucking pig!
You fucking rapist! Please, Bobby, listen to me: don't, please just
stop now, okay? Please!" Lisa tried to struggle against me, but it was
much too late for that. I was stronger, much stronger, and my full
weight easily held her in place beneath me. I worked her pantyhose
down with free hand and pressed my pants-covered erection hard against
her naked ass.

"I have a suspicion that underneath all this struggling you're
enjoying yourself, Lisa. Because I have a suspicion that deep down
you're nothing but a slutty little cunt who loves being forced, loves
being made to do stuff.. It's what you dream about when you rub that
sweet little slutty pussy of yours every night, some man making you do
the sick shit you can't admit to yourself or anybody else that you
desperately want."

I wedged my free hand between our bodies and pressed a finger into
Lisa's cunt. It was drenched. Absolutely the wettest pussy I'd even
touched. Like a swamp.

"No Bobby please, don't do this." She was sobbing hard now, tears
running down her face. But that pussy, how wet it was, told the real
story . . .

"You fucking whore, Lisa, don't tell me you aren't enjoying yourself.
I've never felt anything as hot and wet and gooey as your dirty little
cunt is right now. I thought Becky was wet after I spanked her but she
was like an old dried up piece of leather compared to you, Lisa."

With my free hand I undid my pants and managed to get my stiff cock
out. I rubbed it against Lisa's lovely ass as I talked. Lisa was still
crying.

"I know you want me to put it in your pussy, Lisa, and I will,
sweetie, but not until I've fucked that sweet dirty little asshole of
yours . . . that'll be much tighter, and much dryer, too . . . think
how much it's going to hurt .. . ."

"Don't do that, please, leave my ass alone, please . . . fuck my pussy
instead Bobby, go ahead, I'm ready, you see how wet I am, just rape my
pussy not my ass . . ."

"I might consider doing that, Lisa, if you'll acknowledge what a dirty
cockteasing slut you are, if you'll tell me how much it excited you to
catch us with Becky, how it made your fucking precious pussy just
flood with juice .. . ."

"God, Bobby, you're right, I love it, I'm a slut really but I love
pretending I'm in control, just don't fuck my ass dry, please, put
your cock in my cunt Bobby . . ."

"Will you suck me after I've fucked you, Lisa, so you can taste your
slutty self all over my cock?"

"God, yes, please, make me do it, I want to do it, to suck your cock,
Bobby..."

"I wonder, Lisa, I mean maybe I've got it wrong - not about you
getting off on humiliating us, on presenting yourself some kind of
sexually higher being compared to everyone else: I know I'm right
about that. But maybe your pussy's still wet from that, you know, from
humiliating us . . . maybe you aren't getting off on this, maybe you
don't dream about getting raped . . . you're just saying this stuff so
I'll go easy on you." I paused and wrenched her arm a bit: she winced
and made a quiet little squeak. "Now which is it, Lisa? Are you turned
on now?"

"You're hurting me, Bobby. I don't know what you want me to say. That
I like it? That I don't? I don't want you to fuck my ass - please
don't do that - but I'll do the other stuff. What do you want from me?
God, oh God . . ." She was really crying now.

"Did you think you had it figured out, Lisa, what I wanted, how to
play the situation? You didn't. You don't. Because I'm of two minds
about you Lisa, maybe more than two." I quickly pressed my thumb into
her asshole; she gasped. "Part of me just wants to fuck you in the
ass, pure and simple. If you hate it, struggle hard, you know, that'll
make things pretty interesting -- but I might cum really fast that way
too, you know. But your cunt is so tempting, so wet, I feel just how
warm and wet against me - and you'll at least pretend you want that,
that you want me to fuck your cunt."

I began to work my thumb in and out of her asshole slowly . . . she
really was tight back there, she let out a little gasp on each thrust,
could the supposedly sexually sophisticated Lisa possibly be an anal
virgin?

"The thing is, Lisa, if I fuck your cunt you're just going to pretend
to like it, right? And that's just what I don't want. I mean, if you
do that, I don't get the fun of raping you, forcing you - and I can
tell that would be some delightful fun indeed, Lisa, forcing my cock
inside your unwilling little hole, I probably should just do that" - I
pressed my thumb in hard, trying to open her clenched sphincter a bit
- "but I might like it even better if you confirmed my theory about
you, that you really are a slutty whore at heart who wants to be used
roughly by men, if I was really convinced that you were a whore like
that, just dying for my cock, you know, not pretending, not trying to
get through this with a minimum of unpleasantness, but just fucking
starved for my cock, just begging for it, begging to be stuffed full
of cock, you know, if that's really what you're secretly like, well,
that would be pretty amazing too . . . and I probably wouldn't even
have to deal with the police afterwards . . . you might even become my
own personal slut, I could use you any way I wanted-mmmmmmmmmm, Lisa,
that's a nice thought."

Gasping and crying, Lisa was pleading now. "You're right, Bobby,
you're right about me, I'm just a slut, Bobby, starved for cock, I
don't like to let it show, it makes me seem weak and vulnerable, but
it's true, oh God, it's true, I've been a secret slut my whole life.
Wanting desperately to be overpowered and fucked hard all the time,
you know, God, my pussy was always wet, from the time I was like
eleven or twelve, and I didn't want to give in to it, didn't want to
be a weak little slut, so I started teasing boys and kind of got off
on the power that gave me, it helped me bury the part of me that
wanted to be used as a whore, to have men degrade me and treat me like
trash and empty their cocks into my wet cunt. You've discovered what
I'm really like, Bobby, so use me, fuck my slutty wet cunt, Bobby,
please, do it please."

I probably would have believed her, believed I really had her number,
if she hadn't added, "Just please don't fuck my ass."

How could someone who wanted to be used hard and fucked like a
worthless slut be so particular about taking it up the butt? The whole
thing seemed like a ruse of some kind, a put on - she was prepared to
bite the bullet and let me do her cunt, and let me think I had her all
figured out, but butt-fucking would hurt some, and that was too much?
Or was she telling the truth, I had figured her secret slutty side
exactly right, but she just didn't like anal? It was possible, I
guessed, I mean, her little anus was certainly tiny and tight clamped
hard around my thumb.

I wiggled my thumb and she squealed, "No please no Bobby use my pussy
just my pussy please."

"You know, Lisa," I said. "I can't figure you out. But I do know one
thing: you don't want my cock in your asshole." I pressed her arm
harder behind her and she squeaked in pain. "And so that's where I'm
going to fuck you, right in that dirty little hole, you fucking bitch.
And you are tight back there, Lisa, so if you fight me it's going to
hurt like hell."

She was squirming and trying to kick, but I pressed her face hard to
the desk and tightened my grip on her arm, leaning forward pressing my
weight against her.

"Lisa, if you don't stop squirming I'm going to break your arm" - I
twisted her arm back further to make my point, pushing it up toward
her neck until she whimpered in pain-"then I'm going to smack your
face against this desk until I break your pretty nose"-I took my thumb
out of her anus and pressed with that hand against the back of head,
grinding her face against the desk a little - "and then I'd just rape
your filthy asshole anyway. So stop struggling so much and let me get
inside."

My grip on her arm was tight and it wouldn't have required too much
for me to snap it. She knew it and kept still now, or still enough.
She was gasping loudly, crying hard, the desk was wet from her tears,
but she eased up, stopped moving around so much. My cock was as hard
as it had ever been, and it needed to be: her little ass was closed up
watertight now that my thumb was out.

I spit on her ass, and then rubbed a little wetness from her pussy in,
and then I got my cock positioned, and plunged forward. Whenever I'd
butt-fucked girls before, I'd always gone kind of slow, especially at
the beginning, not wanted to hurt them too much as my cock opened up
that tight ring of muscle.

I wasn't so scrupulous this time. I was three-quarters of the way
inside Lisa's tiny hole on my first lunge, and she was just screaming,
at the top of her lungs, in agonizing pain. I mean just fucking
hollering. If there was anyone around on that side of the floor they
surely would have heard but I guess everyone was gone or at the party.
Her little asshole was clamped so tight around my cock that it felt
like she was going to pinch it off. Between that and the screams, I
had to try hard not to squirt at once.

"Lisa if you'll just relax a bit it won't be so bad," I said, trying
to be considerate.

Lisa just yelled "No God stop stop stop Bobby stop stop please no more
no more," or something like that, through her gasps and tears, as I
pushed harder, and her tight little asshole slowly gave ground, half
an inch, maybe three-quarters of an inch per thrust, forcing my way
forward, plowing deeper into Lisa, as she squealed and howled in pain.

It was a slow and messy advance-she was bleeding a little now-but my
onslaught slowly overwhelmed her. As I crammed my full length inside
her bruised and stretched anus, her gasps and cries became a little
more rhythmic, her breaths coming roughly in time with my lengthening
thrusts. The blood, maybe mixed with a little fecal residue, was
working as a crude lubricate and her ass was finally opening up a
little. I let go of her arm, grabbed her shoulders with both hands,
and slammed into her as hard as I could.

She was screaming, "No No No" but I kept pumping in and out of her
bloody butt-hole with long agonizing strokes, shaking her body as I
ravaged it. I went as hard as I could without cumming, just fucking
her tight asshole as hard as I could manage. She got a little looser,
and with each big push, I could feel the fight going out of her, feel
her giving up, a kind of deep exhaustion sweeping over her. The
screaming stopped. She was beaten, even in her own mind she had
realized she couldn't resist any more.

After a couple minutes of these hard long strokes, Lisa's asshole was
tightening up in time with my thrusts, giving my cock an amazing
squeeze on each push. The rest of her body was nearly limp, flopping
like a rag doll as I pulled her shoulders back to force my cock deeper
into her asshole. I was lifting her up and pounding her body hard into
the desk on each stroke. She no longer had the energy to scream, I
guess, little whimpers and squeaky grunts were the only protests she
could make as I raped her tight filthy hole. And every time her face
smacked into the desk, her little whimpers got softer, weaker. I was
hurting her, no question. I was also close and knew I couldn't hold
out much longer.

I abruptly yanked my shit- and blood-smeared cock out of Lisa's ass,
holding her to the table. She didn't fight at all. She was spent, worn
out, way past any kind of resistance. If she hadn't been whimpering
and crying a little, I might have thought she was unconscious.

I flipped her over and pulled her into a sitting position, then
roughly moved her from the desk into her chair. Her eyes were glazed,
still crying, red and swollen and bloodshot.

"Bobby . . . " she mumbled. She had a kind of stunned half-smile on
her face, her mouth hanging a little slack.

"Open up you filthy whore," I said and forced my fingers into her
mouth, opening her lips. A bewildered look crossed her eyes just
before I forced my filthy slimy cock part way into her mouth. Her eyes
began to roll back into her head as I leaned forward and pushed my
whole cock in, forcing her to deep-throat me. She was delirious,
though, and she barely sucked at all, her mouth was hanging loose, her
tongue moving softly as I grabbed the back of her head and pulling her
viciously toward my crotch. In her daze Lisa's head felt lifeless,
like dead weight, but she was starting to gag involuntarily as I
forced my filthy cock down her stunned throat. With my other hand I
pinched her nose closed. The gags became softer, more muffled, but
somehow more desperate. She wasn't getting much air. I worked her
throat hard that way for a few minutes, her head lolling sleepily in
my hands as I rammed her mouth down on my dirty penis.

I was close already of course and when I felt the sperm begin to well
up in my balls, I pulled out. I know it's a cliché, but I wanted to
squirt in her hair, so that when she came to her senses later, her
hair would be a dried gummed up mess, a little humiliating reminder
that would stay with her after I was gone. My cock was still streaked
with blood and feces and I flopped her head to the side and pressed my
cock flush against her cheek. I rubbed my stained cock hard against
her face and it started, a huge avalanche of goo pouring out in a
rush, spraying out violently, getting into her eye as well as all over
her face and into her hair, with its up-to-the-minute perfect style. I
kept pumping against her limp face, smearing her with her own blood
and shit until my cock finally stopped squirting.

That's actually when I started to worry: she didn't have much reaction
when my semen shot into her eye, and supposedly that burns like hell.
Was it possible that I'd done real damage to her? Sure it was. Of
course. When I looked at her body lying there, slumped to the side in
the chair . . . was she dying? Oh God, I thought. I had raped her
asshole until her whole body went limp . . . but I hadn't meant to
kill her or anything. I probably shouldn't have pinched her nose
closed while I was mouth-fucking her . . .. God, what was I thinking?
But she was still breathing, mumbling something, trying to speak . . .
and she was brushing at her eye a little, trying to get the sperm
out-a good sign, I thought. I hoped she be okay. Really. Not that it
mattered too much, from my perspective. Whether she was okay or not, I
was probably going to prison . . .

She started to revive a little - she sat up and looked at me directly
and said, "Bobby . . ." with only a little slurring-and that was
enough for me.

I got the hell out of there, went home, drank some bourbon,
masturbated-I had enough jack off material from this one night to last
me a lifetime, which was a good thing, because I wasn't sure how many
appealing masturbation-inducing images I'd find in prison-and went to
bed.

But I had trouble sleeping. Of course I did. I fully expected cops to
knock down my door and haul me off to jail at any minute. I'd plead
guilty but the court would go pretty rough on me anyway, I was sure.
But nothing happened.

No knock. No phone call even. I decided to play it cool, treat it all
like no big deal, and I went into work the next morning like
everything was perfectly ordinary.

When I got into the office, there was a voice mail message from Lisa.
I was sweating and praying as I hit the "listen" button: "Well, Bobby,
nobody's made me scream like that in a long time. I'm going to be sore
for a week. I was going to pretend to be angry, but I can't manage it.
I loved it. I love getting force-fucked by a guy who's genuinely angry
at me-not playing, but really and truly furious with me. It's been a
while. God I almost passed out there at one point. Did you really have
to smack my head into my desk so many times? And my hair-God, you
really are juvenile, aren't you-in my hair?! Jesus Christ! Don't ever
do that again! And try not to bruise my face up, you stupid fuck, I
hate having to answer the sort of questions these bruises will make
people ask over the next few days. I guess you really thought you were
raping me, huh? Jesus, Bobby, what a fucking kid you are! But you
know, a jury would probably agree with you, call it a real rape . . ..
I mean, it sure felt like one-and just look at these bruises! my
clothes! my poor asshole! . . ."-she was laughing-"I may have to call
the police, unless you're prepared to stay mad and play rough with me
again. And again. And again, you fucking moron. You're mine forever
now. Come by my office at 7 this evening."