Second installment of one day in my crazy early twenties. liberties have been taken with names and details.
“You wanted to see me, Mr. Shaver?” Pete asked, somehow managing to pull his gaze from my nakedness while the young Travis groped me.
His eyes quickly shot back when I gasped slightly, a shiver going down straight from my breasts to my crotch as Travis rubbed his splayed palms in a circular motion over my tightened nipples. I watched him lick his lips, obviously becoming aroused at my exposure and humiliation.
“I hear you’ve been harassing my administrative assistant in the elevator.” Mr. Shaver’s stern voice contrasted greatly with his casual pose behind his desk.
I watched the confusion and worry pass over Pete’s face; I knew exactly what he was thinking. He wasn’t in trouble was he? Not with the slut standing there like an offering being manhandled by a boy while her boss watched…
“Uh…” Pete started off poorly, but it was only a heartbeat before his sales experience and general talent for manipulating words took over. “I may have been overly forward a time or two, sir. But you have to admit her mode of dress and…” he glanced pointedly at me while Travis, oblivious to the conversation, attempted to get as much of my right tit in his mouth as possible, “…behavior, don’t exactly discourage it.”
Travis let go of my breast with a wet pop, and grinned at the angry pink teeth marks he had left on the fullness of my breast. He was going to be just like his father some day.
“Quite alright, Pete. You’re not here to be berated. Feel free to finger fuck her ‘til your heart’s content, I don’t mind in the least.” Both men chuckled as Travis pressed my tits tight together so he could lick and suck and bite at both nipples. “Now Miss Cranston, on the other hand, needs to be punished. Isn’t that true Lilly?”
Like so many of his questions there was only one right answer. “Yes, Mr. Shaver.”
“Would you like to help me punish her, Pete?” He asked.
“I would love to, Mr. Shaver,” he replied with a dark look in his eye I’d never seen before. It occurred to me that I didn’t know very much about Pete Townsend, and I doubted his lust would have anything like the slight restriction of Travis’ timidity. I shivered and wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or desire.
“Call me Bob.”
Pete visibly relaxed, loosening his tie and eye-fucking me while Travis kept at my tits, his ministrations somewhere between pleasure and pain. He bit my nipples to keep them still while rubbing his semi-rigid tongue back and for the over the tips, squeezing tight around the base of my breasts.
“How much pain does she like out of the box?” He asked Mr. Shaver, who’s answering laugh had a sharp edge of cruelty mixed with lust.
“It doesn’t matter what she likes, Pete. Does it, Lilly?”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m a dirty whore, Mr. Shaver. And Dirty Whores don’t get a say.”
I’d had to repeat that phrase and variations thereof fairly often in the last six weeks. Once he even made me hand write it twenty-five times while he fucked me slowly with the thick mahogany nameplate that’s probably still on his desk today. It took me three tries until the legibility met his requirements.
The truth at that time was that I didn’t like a lot of pain, right at the beginning or at all. But I suppose one could call it an acquired taste, like beer or 19th century American novels. And it didn’t take me very long to grow to appreciate it, like it, even need it. But that’s another story.
“I’d like to start with a nice sound spanking, sir—I mean, Bob.”
Mr. Shaver nodded and told his son to take his seat on the couch again. Travis did so reluctantly but quickly, taking time to slap both of my tits as he moved away. Both of them were pink and hot and swollen from his mouth and hands. Pete asked Mr. Shaver if he could make use of his desk, and for the second time that morning I found myself bent over his cold desk, this time with my breasts bare and sore and Pete Townsend spreading the cheeks of my ass to stare down at my holes.
He spit onto my ass a couple times, and at first I thought he was going to go straight to fucking me there. But then he spread the wetness around with his hand before pulling it back and striking my now damp flesh. HARD. And again, and again. The only sound in the room was the loud wet slap of his hand on my ass, my yelps and half sobs in between, and the slight grunts he made on the really hard ones. He stopped after a few moments. He must do this all the time, I thought. He managed to stop just shy of my entire ass going numb; as it was it just burning hot and throbbing.
“Mind if I mouth fuck?” Pete asked, breathing a little heavy from lust and exertion.
While he asked he stuck two fingers deep in my pussy, still wet and humming from the nearness to my abused flesh. I knew he wasn’t asking me. Mr. Shaver nodded, lighting up another cigarette, and Pete pulled me up from the desk by my hair, forcing my stinging ass tight against the rough front of his trousers and the rigid cock underneath.
Before he pulled me away from the desk and pushed me to my knees, I saw Travis sitting on the couch, cock out, rubbing it and watching. He was even bigger than his father. I have no eye for measurements, but I was sure he’d be able to bump my cervix easily with that thing. I was also sure I’d find out soon.
Pete must have looked too, because he laughed and said, “Nice tool kid, you’ll get to use it in a minute.” With that he pulled out his own, shorter and fatter, and without hesitation shoved it past my lips. He didn’t seem to mind that it scraped my teeth on the way in, just forced it over my tongue, smothering my shocked “oh” and making me gag a little. I didn’t like the taste of him, I didn’t like him using me like this, I didn’t like him. But none of that stopped me from taking up a rhythm, sucking at his cock, lathing it with my tongue. He liked it I could tell; before long he was panting hard and letting his hips thrust in time with my motions. But Pete wanted to hurt me, not just get pleasure.
The next time he reached the depth of me he grabbed my head tight. I heard Travis ask something but the words were muffled by the heels of Pete’s hands over my ears as he drove me even farther down onto his cock, thrusting the head into the back of my throat, making it hard to breath, hard to keep from throwing up. Just before I lost it he let go and I pulled away, gasping for air and leaving so much spit on his cock that it was arguably wetter than my pussy was right then. There was a long trail of fluid between my lips and his cock that broke as I exhaled shakily.
“That was nice,” he said. “Now get down like a dog, bitch.”
He stroked his cock and watched a normal color return to my face as I did so. Stretching my arms out to support myself brought the collar of my shirt high and tight under my breasts. Pete squeezed them in his hands before he kneeled in front of me and took my chin in his hand while using the other to guide his soaked cock back into my mouth. It was then that I felt broad hands moving over my hips and a groin complete with massive hard cock was shoved against my backside, parting my crack with his girth. Travis.