He fucks me hard.
He holds my throat
He pulls my chains as my thighs explode.
Click the kiss to see who else is being sinful this Sunday.
She was barefoot. The busty brunette thrashed at her handlers. Her sandals flew off her feet when she kicked. She was through the back of a strip-mall office and into an empty warehouse.
They pushed her against a dark, dusty van and frisked her thoroughly. A man’s hands wove around her. They dove beneath her clothes. He handed off her keyring, cellphone, and sunglasses. She had a small change purse that held $13.67, Sunshine Kissed lip gloss, and her driver’s license. They took that, too.
She was Lucy. Lucy Bernard.
She screeched in protest. Pressure on points of Lucy’s body and odd holds on appendages competed with her adrenalin. She succumbed to them physically, after they conquered her fight or flight mode. She was a mess of herself. Lucy was on her knees, her arms pulled up behind her back. Her head bent forward like a P.O.W. She cried, her hair stuck to her face and her nose ran. She promised she’d be still.
The men who wrangled her kept a tight hold. They pulled her up into an awkward walking position. Her wet face streaked it’s way down the dusty van. They shoved her in the back, releasing her into the dark body of the dirty cab.
They made stops. They picked up more girls. Most of the women were drugged, unconscious, or barely lucid. The vehicle came to a halt. The women inside rolled towards the cab of the vehicle. Lucy was the first one in. She’d wedged herself between the hump in the back of the van, and the back of the cab. She tucked her knees under her chin. With every stop, the number of women grew. She pulled her arms inside her shirt and curled up, full of dread and fear. The bodies piled in.
The back of the van doors opened. Lucy was momentarily blinded by the harsh florescents. Some of the girls exited the filthy vehicle on their own. They wobbled and stumbled out, their mind’s muddied. Some women fell out and onto each other. They all cried out, either in fear or pain. Some had to be pulled into their new hell. A bald man dove in by the waist to drag out the terrified women.
The bald man was short and wide. His fat was hard. It was thick. His thin comb-over was a joke. He smelled of cigars and piss. Hair easily found every part of him except the top of his head. His entire body was covered with thick, hairy sweat. A gritty filth.
Lucy scooted out of her hole with the intention of exiting on her own. The circulation in her legs disagreed with her. The familiar feeling of pins and needles ran up her legs. Just as her ass lifted, it fell. Her ankle became prey to the fat man’s onslaught. The wife-beater he wore was rolled-up over his big belly. He drug her down the length of the van. He juiced Lucy’s bare leg with his thick, hairy sweat. It left a sheen of stink to set into her already dirty skin.
The scrambling and falling of bodies kicked up the dirt on the ground. When her ankle was free, Lucy fell, too. She landed hard, on her hip. Before she could get off a reactionary rub, a metal cuff came to a grinding lock across her wrist. A fog of men in dirty workman’s uniforms pulled the women up and cuffed their wrists over a long horizontal pole made of thick metal. It ran the length of the warehouse.
Every few feet were sectioned off with three walls of wet concrete and drains in the bottom. The men cut off their clothes. Protests fell on deaf ears. There were women who cried. There were women who begged not to be touched.
The women were sent down the line. The warehouse men had different responsibilities. There were two in front of the line, and two behind. Four of them cut away clothing. Women were sent further on to be hosed down. Each of them were sudded-up. Their hair, inside their ass cheeks, cunts, feet, in between their toes. The men took no sexual liberties with the women. They might as well have been putting together cars. It was a job. The women were all rinsed clean. The men unlocked their cuffs. A warehouse man allowed Lucy and the others to towel dry at gunpoint.
The women were given clean grey sweatpants, sweatshirts, and flip-flops. As they dried off and changed into the clothes, the bald man read a list of all their names. Like roll call in school, each woman answered “here” or raised their hand when their name was called.
“Lucy Bernard!” The bald man yelled out over the mumbling.
Lucy tentatively raised her hand.
Once he was finished with the list, the bald man grinned.
“Ok, ladies… listen up. In about 15 minutes, a few SUV’s are going to arrive to take you to your new owners. I don’t get the rest of my money until all orders have been delivered! So you bitches sit down and shut-up,” he announced.
Lucy was on the third knot of the sweatpants, trying to keep them on her hips. She paused momentarily, listening.
We were ordered?
“So we got money comin’ in from that thing in Philly. We’re in our room, the four of us. It was me, Tony, Big Tony, and Rocka’.”
“Rocker? What kind of name is that?” Summer giggled, innocent little whore she was supposed to be.
“Ehhh… We call ‘em Rocka’ on account of how he rocks in his seat. Yanno… he leans on the back two legs of the chair and rocks. Like a rocking chair. So we, uhh… we call him ‘em Rocker. Anyway, yeah… right there, baby. Daddy likes that. Anyway, yeah…yeah….we were waiting for ….a friend, to show up.”
“Uh huuuuhhh” Summer had Paulie’s trousers and briefs down around his ankles, and his mind turning circles. He leaned back on the cheap hotel bed. Summer licked and kissed her way down to Paulie’s cock. She didn’t want to give him what he wanted until she got what she wanted. Paulie was on the drunk side, so she didn’t expect any trouble.
“So what happened to the rest of the story?” Summer’s eyes were wide, curious. She went deep on him twice, slowly. She gagged just a little. Paulie loved that sound.
“Ohhhhh baby, ohhh that’s a goood girl.” That girl and her tricky tricky mouth. She drew back and sat up beside him, her thick, tight nipples luring his attention upwards.
“Was it scary, Daddy?” Summer left whined and lowered her tone. She sounded horny. Her fingers rubbed his ears, his neck, down his shoulders.
“You weren’t scared were you?” Summer drew back from Paulie. Her nipple popped from his mouth. She squealed and shook. He loved watching her breasts bounce.
“Daddy’s never scared.” Paulie reached down and stroked his own cock with one hand and twirled her hair with the other.
“So everything was good, right?” Paulie was animated, going back to the story.
Summer’s eyes went wide and she nodded along with his words.
“And then him and Rocka had an issue. And Rocka BOOM BOOM BOOM. Shot the guy in the belly. Three times.”
Paulie stuck three wiggling fingers into Summer’s belly each time he said the word “Boom.”
“Daddyyy! That tickles” Summer squealed and squirmed onto his lap.
“Daddy! That’s a scary story! I’m gonna have to sit in your lap so no one can get me. Please, Daddy?” She whined. Summer teased him with her little girl words and erotic actions. She moved to straddle his dick. Summer sank down on top of him with a pretty little purr and a pout. She was already feeding his cock into her. Her hips tipped from side to side.
“Ohhhh, don’t worry, baby, Daddy’s got you” All he could do was nod, vigorously. Paulie’s hands pulled her hips down on his cock.
Paulie liked to talk. Summer fucked him while she played an excited little girl. Paulie was her Big-Bad-Daddy. She played to his stories and he played right back. Summer sucked and fucked until they were both happy with what they got. She dressed and was dismissed.
Her driver delivered Summer to her apartment. She went upstairs and turned on the living room lights and the television. She waited exactly 15 minutes. Her cell phone rang.
“Anything for me?” The voice on the other end was familiar, and deep.
“Yes, Sir. It was Rocker. Three shots to the belly. He and Rocker had some kind of issue. Paulie was there. So was Tony, Big Tony, and Rocker. But Rocker shot him.” Summer did not like delivering bad news. The messenger could easily be shot, just for knowing the message. But she was valuable to a lot of people. Summer sold information out the backdoor to those who were willing to pay for it and act discreetly with it.
“Paulie said something about some money coming in from Philly, and that’s why your guy was coming to meet them.” The voice on the other end of the phone chuckled darkly when Summer mentioned Philly. She knew better than to question. That laugh gave her chill bumps.
“It’s in your fridge.” He hung up the phone.
Summer’s phone went black. She had ten grand in a shipping envelope behind her orange juice. Pretty as she was, her betrayal was so thick you couldn’t wipe it off. She knew that someday, someone was going to start calling for the truth.
He told her to grab the sides of the door frame.
The floggers came in different types and materials. Her body moved with the rhythms of the strikes. It was enticing. It was meditative. It was painfully seductive. The material and weight of the implements were changed or used in unison. He noted her gentle sway.
He approached her from behind and ran a finger down her naked, warm back. She used the door-frame to support her weight when she arched. She reminded him of a cat, stretching in the sun.
He stepped back and continued to hit her. She moaned. She panted. He went to her again and pressed tightly against her. He pulled her head back by her hair. She could feel his breath from her clavicle to her earlobe. The back of her bare legs rubbed against the roughness of his bluejeans. Her ass lifted and bumped against his cock, teasing it.
He slid his hand down the front of her shorts and panties. Two of his fingers slipped just inside her pussy lips. She felt his guttural moan.
“Goddamn, girl.” His fingers dipped in juices that he didn’t expect to be there. He turned her around, giving her a good look over.
“Do you need to stop?” He grinned.
She smiled back at him, “I’ll tell you when I want to stop.”
She was going to need the door-frame.
Todd and Courtney. Quarterback and Head Cheerleader. Prom King and Queen. They married out of high school without ever knowing a thing.
Todd was lucky enough to be the eldest of the Tucker Brothers. All he had to do was play it straight and his Dad’s construction company was his. He worked hard every day to support his new wife and new life. He brought home a paycheck. He was responsible. He loved Courtney, almost blindly as young love sometimes is.
“I hate touching this dead chicken!” Courtney squawked from the kitchen.
“It’s not dead, Court. It’s raw.” He chuckled a little bit.
“Oh my fucking God! I…I don’t even! Oh my God, my nails. I hate this…fatty stuff. Why is this bumpy? ….Is this flesh?!” Courtney’s hands tore away the clammy skin of the bird.
“Uhhhhhhhh!” She whined.
“I’m sure it is, babe. Chicken’s got skin on it. You can wash your hands.” Todd was trying to zone her out . His crew finished early on the job site he ran. A few of the guys were headed over to Milt’s. Todd came home, took a shower, and hit the couch for the highlights of the games he missed. He wanted a little downtime.
“I can’t wash the Sam-o-nilla off. You can’t even see that. It comes from dead chicken. I hate Sam-o-nilla! It’s probably all inside this …..FAT!” Courtney continued to cut away at the tendons.
“Sam..ohhh….what? Court, you’re not the first person to handle a chicken.” He turned the television up a few decibels. He gave into the depression of another missed opportunity to relax. All because he married a drama queen.
“I’m not ever doing this again! I hate the way it feels. It’s too hard. It’s chicken out of a can from now on. I don’t care.” Courtney went into full fake crying mode. The chicken was in a pan. The pan went into the oven with a lot of dramatic slamming.
“Hey babe?” He was moved towards the door for his boots. He slipped them on and walked into the kitchen to see her cupped hand pushing chicken fat into a plastic grocery bag. He leaned against the doorjamb and smiled when Courtney looked back at him.
“Babe? I’m gonna run over to Milt’s. I’ll be back.”
“Be back before this chicken is done. And don’t eat anything over there. You’re eating this chicken, Todd!” Courtney yelled after him.
“Hey man!” Milt was happy to see him. Todd was ushered in and offered a beer by Milt’s wife. Milt married up. He talked his old lady into walling off the dining room for his office. Milt’s “office” had hand-me down recliners and someone’s college couch. It had speakers scattered around and a television the size of half the room. The place was a dump, except for the television, and the beer. Todd loved it.
Todd was getting comfortable in one of the old recliners, settling in with a beer to watch an actual game. A few of the guys were talking about money they had on the upcoming play-offs. Everything stopped when the door opened. The room lit up with a bright white light. Milt’s wife slipped in and dropped off a tray of meats and cheeses. She refilled the ice bucket with a six-pack and took out some empties, silently. Once she left everyone began talking where they left off. Milt looked around.
“Sorry guys, she’s supposed to knock before she comes in here. I’ma have to spank her ass for that one, huh? I bet she thinks I’ll forget. Dex. Remind me or I might forget.”
The room burst out laughing, and then Dex kicked in about his own wife.
“I had to beat Karen’s butt black and blue the other night for talking back.” He shook his head back and forth.
Robert asked if either of them had ever used a switch or a paddle. Todd took this all in for about an hour. He thanked the guys for the night, Milt’s hospitality, Milt’s wife as well. He had a hard time looking her in the eye on the way out, knowing what she had coming to her.
Todd came home to find Courtney with wet hair, just out of the shower. She was in the same mood he left her in.
“That chicken was horrible. The inside wasn’t done, but the outside was white. All that work was wasted. It wasn’t even safe to eat. I hate cooking! Just so you know, I’m never touching a dead chicken again!” She didn’t have time to dress. She was still assaulting her hair with a towel. Todd reached for her waist, turned her around and bent her over his knee. He gave her ass a smack with his hand, then another, and another, stopping only to speak, then smack again.
“You hate everything!”
You complain constantly!”
You have a shitty attitude!”
Todd realized he had to go all the way through with it.
“All of that is about to change!”
“Todd! No! Stop!” Courtney squealed and kicked her feet. Her bottom was being held hostage. It hurt. She couldn’t believe he spanked her. He stood up and pulled her face-to-face.
“You will change your bad attitude or continue getting spankings. My bet is that you’ll probably have more coming.” Todd smiled down to her.
“This isn’t fair! You’re bigger than me. It hurts my butt.” Courtney coughed up tears to go with her red bottom.
“It’s supposed to hurt, baby. It’s a punishment.” He cooed down to her.
They were silent for a moment. She nuzzled her face in his chest, pouting.
“Did any of this have to do with the dead chicken?”
Emily tapped the four digit security code onto the pad outside the door to the large condo. The three high-toned beeps announced her entrance home. Smells wafted from the kitchen. Her routine carried her into the office.
She took a seat in Master’s leather chair and emptied her briefcase. Emily rolled her fingertip around the flat pad that brought the computer to life. While waiting for the colorful welcome to pop up, she finger-combed the french twist out of her hair.
Emily went through the mail placed at the edge of the desk, awaiting her attention. Bills were paid with a few clicks of the keys. Invitations, financial forms, important emails, and other documents that needed her Master’s consideration were set aside for him to attend to
Emily refilled her briefcase and left it tucked behind the door. She left the office and went to check on the rest of the house. The girls under Emily’s charge did not belong to her. It was her responsibility to present them to her Master at their best. It was a task that she took very seriously.
Emily’s wardrobe was made up of expensive dress suits that hid racy unmentionables. The clicking of her heels announced her presence. She was structured. They met at his law office. She was his first.
Emily walked into the kitchen, the crisp, modern white that occupied the entire house was hidden by all of the ingredients that Kimberly used to prepare dinner. At 8:00pm the family sat down to eat. Emily’s watch read 7:15pm. It was her job to keep the family clock running. Master would be home by 7:45pm, and he expected everything routinely in place.
“Kimberly, I know you need time to cook dinner, but must you have all of our stomach’s growling until we scarf down our meals like animals?” Emily teased her, and speared a piece of fruit with a toothpick from the nibbling tray. This brought a veiled smile to Kimberly’s face as she worked on the finishing touches. Kimberly handled all of the cooking. Three meals a day and healthy snacks.
At some point during the years since the girls were together, they’d jokingly razzed Kimberly about “taste testing.” She set out a “nibbling tray” before cooking. Slices of fruit, cheese, or crackers appeared and she no longer had to “shoo” them away from her dinner preparations.
Kimberly studied culinary arts in college. The household was lucky to have her. Kimberly’s light brown hair was always held back in a tight bun while she was in the kitchen. She ran the space with amazing ability. She could slow down or propel forward the time of a meal at Emily’s behest. She had an innocent smile.
Emily made her way to the back of the house and poked her head into the laundry room. It was spotless. Only the soft sound of the tumbling dryer gave any life to the room. She shut the door to leave and noticed Cammy coming down the hallway with an empty dry cleaners bag in hand and a warm smile on her face.
“Hello, Miss. How was your day?” Cammy was soft-hearted and soft-spoken.
She was tall, too. Her hair was strawberry blonde and very curly. Cammy joined the family as a service submissive. She kept the home clean, washed clothes, and ran errands when Emily needed her to. Cammy and Kimberly made weekly trips to the store for mealtime and household items as well.
Emily returned the smile. “My day was busy. I’m sure yours was too. The house looks great.”
“Yes Ma’am. I just put away the dry cleaning and I’m trying to control my stomach from growling.” Cammy smiled and tipped her head down the hallway towards the direction of the kitchen.
Emily smirked, “you and me both.” Master’s arrival home was announced with an excited, shrill scream of “Daddy’s Home!”
Emily’s eyes went wide at the screech. “Christ, she’s got to contain that.”
“She’s been pent-up all day. Good luck, Ma’am.”
They both laughed and went in opposite directions. Cammy headed to the front of the house to greet their Master and Emily to make a quick check on the back rooms to make sure everything was in order. Emily found his room perfect. Cammy had his clothes out for the next day. They were placed carefully on his suit rack.
Finding all the boxes checked off her list, Emily headed towards the front of the house to greet him. Their Master went to them individually, with a kiss and kind words. Further information about their days would be shared during dinner and more discreet time, later in the evening.
Master took hold of Emily’s chin and kissed her hard on the lips. He whispered something in her ear and handed her his briefcase. She laughed and made her way to his office to set it aside his chair.
Pretty was the petite, babygirl of the bunch. She had long black hair that fell in curls unless Cammy wrangled her into sitting still long enough to braid them into pigtails. She usually traded a reality T.V. Show for the process, but Master didn’t like doing that too often, as he had to listen to the retelling of the absurdities of the show.
Pretty wore only panties and sometimes knee socks. She was purchased at an auction. She had a single Master. With his passing, she was sent to a slave house. The house Pretty belonged to was never appropriately able to mold her into their idea of what a “little girl” should be. But Master wanted her.
Cammy served Master a drink while Pretty talked his head off. This gave Kimberly time to plate dinner. Cammy prepared each place setting. Kimberly helped Cammy with setting out the dishes for the family. Master, at the head of the table, to Pretty’s, on the floor, between Emily and Master.
Once the table was full, Master sat down to dinner… with all of his girls.
I didn’t want to turn a business contact into a fuck. I crossed the line a few months back when I let him shove his fingers in me. I’ve seen him once since then. I knew I wanted to fuck him. His situation was complicated. I didn’t know if fucking him would be worth all the bedlam it might cause. And would the actual fuck be worth it?
I had dinner with friends at seven. I already entertained the idea of calling him if my night ended early.
My night did end early. I sent him a text.
Me: You up?
I was nervous about the odds of him being dead asleep. My contact might be unwelcome. I doubted that, unless he was in a compromising situation. When my phone pinged right away, I was relieved.
Him: Yeah, out and about. What can I do for you?
Me: Do you want to fuck?
Him: Where you at?
Me: I’m in town.
Him: Off 73. 10 min.
Off exit 73. I could get there in ten minutes. I pulled up on his passenger side and got into the back seat of his Tahoe. I was anxious about whether or not to fuck him until the moment I slid my naked thighs across the leather interior of his truck. It was an imaginary line. I remembered why I was wet from earlier.
“What can I do for you?” He was in front, his elbow on the arm rest, looking at her through the rear-view mirror.
“Really?” I was snotty. He knew what he could do for me. He kept this door wide open. I shut him down. Well…
“Backseat, please?” I didn’t try very hard to hide my attitude. I knew he enjoyed getting the text. Admittedly, I was horny. Not just for sex, but sex with him.
The process was quick and dirty. My dress was short, and easily over my head. He took care of himself. I leaned down and kissed him. Lips forever and a tongue that belongs in my pussy. That’s what I think about when we kiss. I think of how much I want him to eat my cunt.
“I think you ’bout ready to get on this dick” His advertising was good, but how was the show?
I nodded and moaned. I didn’t expect to. It just kinda fell out. I lifted my right leg so he could feed me his cock. As soon as he was in position, I lifted up and sank all the way down, straddling him. COCK. Thank God… Cock.
Both hands, one on the bottom of each ass cheek. He bounced me up and down. He gripped fistfuls of my flesh on my ass and the outside of my thighs. He slapped hot, red marks on my ass. That’s his move. I enjoyed riding him. The head of his cock is beautiful and the perfect rim told my pussy exactly when to stop sliding up and when to drop back down and fill back up with him.
The show was worth it.
I cleaned up, slipped my dress back on, and thanked him.
“Thank you? Oh that’s how it is?” He teased
“You know…… Besides, I shouldn’t have done this. And don’t say anything to anybody.” I was serious, but trusted him.
“Pssshhh…. You ain’t gotta worry about that.” He got out of the back seat and into the front. He tightened up his collar and glanced back to me through the rear view mirror.
“Ain’t nobody tryin’ to ruin that lily-white reputation of yours.” He huffed.
“I’ll call you.” I slid out of the Tahoe.
“I’m sure you will.” He was trying to keep the conversation going. I wasn’t interested. I just wanted the fuck.
Without responding, I cranked up and pulled out.
Kate noticed the trucks unloading next door when she went out for the mail. She flipped through a doctor’s bill, a movie, and a card from Brian’s mother. She picked up a box that was on the porch and headed inside, surveying the envelopes as she went.
“We’ve got new neighbors. I checked the mail. You got a card from your mother. Hey, do you want to keep getting these movies in the mail or just order a different package through our cable people?” Her husband, Brian, turned the cooking fan off.
“What? I can’t hear a thing you’re saying over this whirling” Brian pointed upwards, as if the sound was coming from God and not the hood of the stove. Kate grinned and just shook her head. She and Brian were married for six years. He loved cooking. She loved being cooked for.
“Nothing,” she laughed.
Kate dropped the box off on the table. She took the movie and sat it near the DVD player and the bill on the desk. She left the card in the kitchen for Brian to open. Kate took out a box cutter from the junk drawer and drew it across the clear tape that held the box closed. Inside was a sex toy and a book.
“Is that something for you to review?” Brian looked back over his shoulder to her with a smile on his face. His voice was loud over the sizzling in the pan behind him. She frowned and tilted her head at the smoke. It was probably a good idea to turn that cooking fan back on again.
Kate glanced back down to the box and the book she was holding. The toy was from a reputable company. The rigors of a review would tell it’s secrets. The book would either be a good read or it wouldn’t. Easy enough.
“Yeah. It’s just work.” Kate was a sex blogger. She received sex toys from companies. She used them. She wrote about her experiences with the toy, and included an abundance of information about it. Kate put all of these experiences and knowledge out on the internet for people to read. Of course she used a moniker.
Kate used her blog to write about the kinky exploits she had with her husband. Brian was fine with it. He enjoyed participating in photos and flipped ideas towards her writing. Some posts leaked information about upcoming reviews she worked on. Some posts were strictly erotica. Her posts were automatically sent to Twitter, Facebook, and tumblr.. From there Google+, StumbleUpon, Digg, Reddit, and a few other media options.
She didn’t have an extortionate amount of fans. She was excited to have the fans she did. Some followers were happy to get a post update from Kate. Some had no idea she existed. She blogged for herself. If others found her amusing, wonderful. Kate was happy with her own little space on the internet.
A few tweets from Kate’s moniker were retweeted into Denny’s timeline. He started following Kate on Twitter. She reblogged some pictures from tumblr.. They excited him. A post from her blog came across his timeline. Denny fell in love with her blog. Kate wrote stories that touched him deeply. Denny really wanted to know more about her.
He subscribed to her blog. He read everything, new and old. He spent a few days rolling around in the ups and downs of Kate and Brian’s relationship. Part of loving them was realizing that he was alone. He didn’t know anyone that he could talk to about his feelings. He longed for the hands of another.
Kate and Brian were the only ones he fit in with. He wondered if they might feel the same way about him. He spent so much time getting to know them. He hoped they shared his excitement. He had so many questions for her, and Brian, too. He hoped she would be willing to answer them now that they were neighbors.
“These numbers are wrong. These numbers are very wrong.” Karla’s eyes widened as they scanned over the account totals Abe handed her. It was 6:30pm on Friday evening. She had plans to meet friends for drinks, but that wasn’t going to happen.
“Fuck!” She flipped quickly through the more detailed of information of each account. Karla was right. The numbers were wrong.
“Do you know who put these in? Fuck. This makes our team look incompetent. These go upstairs first thing Monday morning and they’re not going up like this, Abe!” Karla shoved the file back to him.
Abe was tall. He was muscular. His hair was more strawberry than blonde. Other than office candy, he was Karla’s guard dog. He was hired for his looks and his loyalty. He was hired because he knew his shot. Karla liked men who knew their shot.
“The team is gone. We stay and start from scratch. It takes us four hours, tops, both of us working.” Abe slowly sat down on the couch in her office. He was not looking forward to this. Neither of them were.
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her ankles on her desk. Her head dropped back while she waited for the situation to fix itself. It didn’t.
“We should get started.” He stood and groaned.
They worked for hours. Karla let her hair down. She took her jacket off. Her heels were turned on their sides somewhere under her desk. Abe ditched his jacket and tie. He flipped up his cuffs. Karla and Abe worked through every overlooked mathematical knot. The finishing touches were all that the report needed.
Karla had food delivered. After they finished eating, Karla pulled out a bottle of Jack she kept tucked away in her office for times such as this. She brought out two glasses, one over to him on the couch. They were close to the finish line. Karla offered one to Abe, which he gladly accepted. She curled up on the other end of the couch and gave her office a good looking over.
“This place is a wreck.” She groaned.
“Stop worrying so much. We’re almost done with this.” He casually reached over and scooped her feet out from under her and placed them in his lap, rubbing them gently as he spoke.
“We’ve highlighted every mistake. We’re going to make a huge pile of this mess and dump it on their desks. We’ll let them sort through their mistakes on Monday. You’ll send up the corrected numbers. Everything will be fine.” His hands moved along her ankles. They traveled back down to her toes and the balls of her feet.
She had never shared physical contact with Abe on such a level, but she was was not turning down his foot rub. It felt too damn good, especially given the stressful circumstances.
“That sounds good to me.” Karla took a long swallow from her drink. She was beginning to relax for the first time since the madness started. Abe was working on her naked calves now. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back.
Abe’s hands rubbed their way up to her knees. Karla lifted her head to look at him. She cocked an eyebrow and Abe stopped. He waited on any kind of direction from her. She chuckled and let her head fall back. That was good enough for him. His hands slid up her skirt and to her thighs.
Karla finished her drink in one big gulp. She set her glass on the table and spread her legs so Abe could have easier access. She leaned up and gently wrapped her hand around his neck.
“Do you want to eat my pussy?” Karla spread her legs wider. His hand could feel the heat from the top of her thighs.
“Yes, I do.” His eyes flashed in unexpected excitement.
“Good. As soon as those numbers are right, I’ll be sitting right here. Finish up.” She leaned back and let her legs fall open.
Abe sat back and let out a long sigh. He gently ran the outside of his finger run down the the inside of her thigh. His dick throbbed when he touched the silky border of her damp panties. He drew back and reached for the last few accounts left. He and Karla had straightened out the majority of the problems. He glanced over at Karla, then at the paperwork.
He totaled up what was left without doing the detailed work. Karla would never know. Soon enough she’d be smothering his face with her juicy cunt.
No one would notice the wrong number.
Robin Lorinthrope’s phone pinged. She was over five minutes late leaving the office. She stood, running her hands down her curvy frame. Her black skirt accentuated her legs. She clicked her heels right out of the building.
She left at 6:06pm. Her phone recorded and alerted at the time. She had drinks with a friend at a posh little plug-in place down the street from the office. Robin used a step counter to see how many steps she took in a day. When she walked a lot, her phone pinged away like an electronic bird, begging for attention. Robin’s blonde, pigtailed icon alerted her of a benchmark. A picture of her with new pink running shoes congratulated her on her next level.
Robin enjoyed her free time for 46 minutes. She and her friend spoke about absolutely nothing and completely everything. One of her apps tracked her. It announced her location with a widespread photo of her in a red slouchie beanie and big sun glasses.
Her electronic calender put her into a cab with three dings, then in front of the nice big house she called home. Robin hightailed it upstairs and into her room. Clothes threatened to burst out of her closet in her very presence. Hangers were landmines, and everything held something else.
Robin tossed her phone into her overstuffed, unmade bed. The bedding was precious. Soft pinks and whites in layers. She kicked off her heels and reached for the zipper of her skirt. The consistent pings from her cell phone made the atmosphere tense. She raced to undress and re-hang her day’s attire.
She slid across the carpeted floor. Robin yanked out a t-shirt and a pair of panties from her dresser. She rolled into the t-shirt, yanking her hair in front of her face as she hustled. Robin used her feet to push the flimsy material of her thongs down the rest of her body. The leg holes stretched and tangled around her ankles.
She heard the door slam while she was one leg into a pair of boy shorts. She stopped skipping around. Robin quietly leaned against the wall and slid the other leg in. She ran her hand through her hair. She was silent.
“ROBIN!” His tone said ‘run and hide’.
And there it was.
Robin swung her door open. and cried downstairs, “Coming, Daddy!”
She saw that he was not as nipped and tucked as he usually was. Daddy looked stressed. Maybe Robin didn’t pick the best day to play office. Maybe she should have asked first. Daddy owned an Accounting Firm and sometimes, Robin liked to dress-up like a big girl and go work at Daddy’s office.
He planned them them, on slow days. He fucked her in his office. The first time, he just slid her thongs to the side. Those panties have never been washed. The smell of them make him hard. He put her on her knees under his desk. They teased, nipped, and grinned, up until her mouth was prime for the rutting.
Daddy was having an issue with one of his auditors, and a client that called him directly. The client called every five minutes and with problems his auditor had the responsibility of solving. Five minutes after he finished wrestling his day-long problem, he looked out of his office to see Robin talking on one of the company phones. No permission.
Daddy explained to her that she walked right out of the office and was gone. She never came into his private office to tell him that she was there. She had a phone that pinged and beeped, but when Daddy needed her, he fell into the company of all those ridiculous alerts.
“Now go get that goddamn phone,” He was furious.
She followed the dings and the pings until she found her phone buried in her bed. He met her upstairs in her room. She offered the sing-song device to him. He took in the messy sight and moved past the pouting girl. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and made himself comfortable. *Ping*
“Leave the phone beside me. I want you…. here.” He pulled her down and over his lap. She cried out, but knew the punishment was coming.
“I already know it’s going to hurt! How many? *PING*How many, Daddy?” Robin was already crying about the spanking she was afraid of getting.”
“I’ll stop once that phone goes silent.”