Mr. Steel and Puta Girl move to create a Worker for the Doll House. One that can meet the requirements of the Doll House.
Puta Girl was in her boss's bathroom washing up. She was a mess after the fuckfest they just had. Who would have thought Mr. Steel could fuck so well. He left her covered in his cum and her face was a disaster.
She knew her other persona had some slut in her. Maria Good always was down for a good fucking but here and now she was ready for anything. Becoming a Doll was the best thing for her and her libido.
A knock on the bathroom door. “I got your bag,” came Mr. Steel’s voice. She turned from the sink and opened the door. He stood there back in his suit. He lifted his hand up to give her bag to her.
“What,” she snapped?
“Your a fucking mess,” he blurted out before he realized what he said.
“That I’m you fucking bastard and who did this to me?”
“I did,” he said in a shy voice.
“Yes you did. You fucked me like some fucking whore on your desk,” she said with a bit of anger in her voice. He looked at her for a moment before she continued. “And this Doll fucking loved it. She can’t wait for round two.” Another pause as she looked down between his legs and finished,” Mr. Steel.”
The tension was thick between the two of them. She would have been ok for round two at the moment but Mr. Steel broke off. “Shit Puta Girl. Don’t start something we don’t have time to finish. Get cleaned up and come out to my office. We need to go over my task and the plan.”
He closed the door to the bathroom, leaving her alone. Alone and getting horny again. It took another ten minutes before she was ready. Not her normal hottest but enough for work.
The door swung open and Mr. Steel was doing work at the computer. “All ready for you Mr. Steel,” she told him as she headed to the seat in front of his desk. “What is your big plan?”
Twenty minutes later she was back at her desk. The plan was pretty simple. First she needed to enlighten one of the IT guys. This would be easy because he had the hots for her. She had a few hours before she started it up so she went back to work. She typed, answered emails and phone calls like she was Maria Good. Somehow the program allowed her to remember to do her work. She thought it would have been a pretty shitty program if all it was good for was to make them nnnn.
The clock read four ten. Now was as good a time as any. She sent an email to Robbie that her computer was acting up. His response was almost immediate. He would be right over. She pulled out the small mirror from her bag. She placed the lips guards over her full plump lips and then applied the special lipstick to them. I deep red that enhanced them along her darker skin.
Right on cue Robbie walked up. “What seems to be the issue,” he said in a nervous voice. The guy was a pure nerd through and through. He was small, both in height and width. He had no muscle mass on that thin frame. He wore a typical nerd outfit. Unflattering blue slacks and a white button down shirt. His short brown hair did nothing to hide his unattractive face. The only thing that looked like he put effort into was his glasses and even those were to big for his face.
“Robbie, my favorite IT guy. There seems to be something wrong with the monitor. Can you come back here and take a look.” She pushed herself away from the desk, inviting him into her space. Just like a spider entices its prey to come into its lair.
Robbie looked so nervous as he came to her side of the desk. The monitor was black even after he pressed the on/off button. “Do you think I’m that much of a bimbo that I don’t know how to turn on a monitor?”
“No, no,” he blurted out. He felt flush from embarrassment. “You never know. Start with the easy stuff.” His body language screaming he wanted to be anywhere but here.
“Are you sure,” she asked with a wicked grin?
“Oh yes. I would never,” he tried to continue.
“Never what? Think I'm that dopey or think that I’m a bimbo?”
Robbie started to blush crimson. “I’m, I’m,” he stuttered. “Let me check behind a wire that maybe came loose.” He leaned over the oversized monitor. As his body was in a weird angle she moved under him. “Nothing wrong on this side,” he called back. As he moved back over it, his body brushed alongside hers. He lost his balance. Partly from the angle and partly from touching her. Before he could right himself he tumbled onto her lap.
“Oh my god,” he barked as he tried to push up. “I’m so sorry.” Puta Girl grabbed his hips, holding him there for a moment. Just enough to make him feel awkward.
“It is ok Robbie. Just think,” she continued. “I saved you from taking a tumble.” Her hands caressed his legs as he stood.
“I’m so sorry Ms. Good. It was all my fault. Thank you for catching me.” Robbie was starting to sweat now. She knew she was pushing all his right buttons. “Let me check under your desk.” He lowered himself to his knees and climbed under it.
“You know there are a bunch of naughty stories written about this situation.” She moved the chair to be in his way when he came out from under her desk.
“What did you say,” he called out to her. “Oh, here is the problem. The cable came out on the computer end. It should be back on now.”
The black screen powered back to life. “That did the trick.” She could feel him moving under her. Time to pounce. She opened her legs. Showing off her bare wet pussy. She grinned at how easily he fell into her trap. Such easy prey.
“Glad I could help,” he called out on his hands and knees under her. As he turned his head away from the computer, she came into full view. He froze. Not knowing what to do. “Umm,” he started, not knowing what to say.
“You like what you are seeing under my desk? Anything else that you think needs some help?”
Robbie pushed back. Trying hard to get out of the situation he found himself in. Moving without thought, he cracked his head on the edge of her desk. A large dull bang. His hands went to the back of his head.
Robbie's head throbbed where it had collided with the desk, a dull ache that only added to his disorientation. He felt weak and unsteady, his body betraying him as he stumbled back into the wall, Puta Girl's rose, her presence a dominant force pinning him in place.
Her presence enveloped him, her soft breasts a sensual barrier, pressing against his chest. The weight of her dominance pinned him, and he felt a surge of desire mixed with a hint of fear. He tried to push her away, a feeble attempt at resistance, but his arms felt heavy and his knees wobbled, giving in to her seduction.His initial resistance, a mere feeble push, was met with the realization that he was no match for her. Her embrace, a cage of sensuality, trapped him, and he found himself helplessly drawn into her web. How he dreamed about this every night.
As her lips met his, a slow, deliberate kiss began. It was a kiss that spoke of power and control, yet it ignited a fire within him. Her mouth, soft and warm, moved against his with a seductive rhythm, each touch a promise of pleasure. The kiss deepened, and her tongue, a playful intruder, traced his lips, inviting him to surrender.
He felt the drug-like effect of her kiss, a sensation that spread through his body, leaving him weak and craving more. He thought it was the kiss but it was the drugs she had laced on his lips. Her tongue, a skilled temptress, parted his lips, and he tasted the sweetness of her breath, a heady mix of desire and dominance. The kiss intensified, and he could feel the tension building, a tangible force between them.
Her thigh, a subtle reminder of her power, pressed against his growing hardness. She knew the effect she had on him, and she relished in his vulnerability. Robbie, caught between desire and hesitation, found his resistance melting away. He wanted to move, to take control, but her kiss kept him rooted, a prisoner of her sensual dominance.
The kiss lingered, a passionate dance of lips and tongues, as she teased and tempted him. Her breath, hot and intoxicating, whispered promises of pleasure, and he felt his body respond, his arousal a testament to her skill. His hands, once weak, now reached for her, seeking to touch, to claim, but she pulled away, leaving him wanting, a slave to her every move.
The tension between them grew, a charged atmosphere that hung heavy in the air. Puta Girl, confident and in control, knew exactly how far to push, how much to tease. She wanted him desperate, eager, and she played her game with precision. Her eyes, a window to her soul, held a glint of satisfaction, as she witnessed his struggle, his desire, and his helpless surrender.
As the kiss drew to a close, she left him breathless, his body aching for more. Robbie, now fully aroused and captivated, found himself under her spell, a willing participant in her sensual dominance. The stage was set, and the game had only just begun, leaving them both eager for the next move, a dance of passion and power.
"I don't feel so great," he mumbled, his voice hoarse and weak. But it was a lie; he felt something else entirely—a rush of desire and a craving for the dominance she exuded.
Puta Girl, ever the expert at reading men, leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "Shh, it's okay, Robbie. Let me take care of you." Her breath was warm and intoxicating, and her words, a promise of control and pleasure, sent a jolt of excitement through his body. “Let’s have you come sit in Mr. Steel’s office.”
With a gentle hand, she guided him, she draped his arm around her neck, steering him towards Mr. Steel's office. Her touch was firm yet soothing, a contrast to the chaos swirling in Robbie's mind.
"Who...?" he asked, his voice thick with confusion and a hint of arousal. He was lost, caught between his secret desires and the reality of this dominant woman taking charge.
She smiled, a confident, knowing smile, as she led him further. "You'll see, Robbie. Trust me."
The office door loomed ahead, a threshold to a world of power play and sensual dominance. Robbie's heart raced, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He wanted this—the surrender, the tease, the unknown pleasures she promised. His mind started to feel hazy as it became a chore to walk. “Let’s have a sit down with the boss man. He has a task for you. One that he and I feel only you can do.”
As they stepped in front of the door leading to Mr. Steel’s office, Puta Girl's grip tightened around his neck, a subtle reminder of her control. She pressed her body closer, her breasts now flattened against his chest, a tantalizing tease.
"You like what you see, Robbie?" she purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Anything else that needs my attention?"
Robbie's gaze dropped to the bulge in his pants, a telltale sign of his arousal. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly turned on. He had no idea why his body was reacting this way. His mind tried to keep up with her. His submissive tendencies were on full display, and he knew there was no turning back.
"I... I think so," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Puta Girl's smile widened, a victorious expression of her dominance. She had him exactly where she wanted, and the game was only just beginning. “Before we head into his office I want to let you know that this meeting will change your life. Let it all sink in and you will come out a changed man. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” came out low and slurred. Puta Girl opened the door and led the drugged man into the office. As she helped him along his movement got even worse.
Mr. Steel moved from his chair behind his desk. “Wow, look at him.” He shook his head at the sight of Robbie. “Just put the poor guy in the chair.” Pointing one of the large wingback chairs on the far side of the room.
“Mr. Thomas,” Robbie whispered. “Sorry I’m not feeling good. Puta Girl directed him into the comfortable chair. “Ms. Good said you have a job for me.” His head fell to the side as the words were forced out.
Mr. Steel ignored the drooping man as he walked over to them. “Let me grab the gear. I don’t even think we need the straps.” He said as he lifted Robbie’s head and let it fall forward.
“I agree,” she agreed with a wicked grin. “I have an idea to keep him distracted until he drops.”
“Do it,” Mr. Steel said as he headed into the conference room to pick up the headset. As he left, Puta Girl kneeled in front of Robbie. Her expert hands moved to his belt and the button of his pants. He had them pulled down in a moment.
She was hoping Robbie was one of those nerdy guys with a big cock. She was disappointed. His pecker was below average. Only four inches and not thick at all. She was hoping to have a mouthful but this was barely a snack. She took it in her hand and started stroking him absentmindedly.
Mr. Steel came back into the office and chuckled. “Is that how you were going to distract him?”
“I was hoping for something bigger but oh well.” Her two fingers pumping his thin shaft.
“Let me get him setup and I facefuck you again. Do you really want to redo your makeup again?” Mr. Steel lifted Eobbie’s head again and started the process of fitting the headset over his head. Robbie tried to swat it away but he was only able to raise his arm half way.
“Don’t tease me. We should wait until he is under. I don’t want to screw this up. We need him and his nerdy wisdom.” Her hand slowly worked his small stiff cock. “How long is the process from start to finish,” she questioned her boss?
Mr. Steel played out the process. How the body reacts to it and what he needed to do during her procedure.
“Really,” her voice raising in a question? “Only an hour to make me a dripping horny slut. Well Maria had this locked down and let it out a bit, but now I want it all the time.” She looked over to Robbie and his small penis. “Well, almost all the time.”
As she watched him she noticed his body shift. It was relaxed because of the drugs coursing through his system and her handjob, but it softens even more now. His hands drooped off his lap and his head started to tilt. She lifted her gaze from Robbie to Mr. Steel with a question on her face.
“He just fell deep into trance. He will be there for a while as it softens his mind then the real fun begins.” A wicked smirk came to his face. “You can stop stroking him now and work on a real cock.” He unzipped his pants and let them fall to his knees.
Puta Girl could not contain herself. Letting go of Robbie’s pathetic little penis with a dismissive snort, she moved to her boss. Her hungry gaze locked onto his crotch. On her knees she moved between his spread thighs, the carpet rough under her skin, her full lips parting in a wicked grin. Her dark eyes burned up at him, promising the kind of filthy worship that made his cock twitch in his underwear, still soft but thickening at the sight of her tits straining against her tight top.
He watched her hands claw at his waistband, yanking his underwear down in one rough pull. His cock flopped out, heavy and semi-hard, the thick shaft veined and already leaking a fat bead of pre-cum from the slit. Puta Girl's tongue shot out, flat and eager, lapping up that salty drop like it was her favorite treat. She moaned low, the vibration humming against his skin as she dragged her tongue along the underside, from balls to tip, coating him in her hot spit.
“Fuck, look at this fat cock,” she growled, her voice thick with lust. “Gonna choke on it till it's rock hard and ready to wreck my throat.” Her tongue swirled rough around the head, pressing hard into the sensitive frenulum, making his hips buck involuntarily. Spit poured from her mouth, slicking his shaft in messy strings that dripped onto his balls. She spat directly on the length, watching it glisten, then smeared it with her palm in quick, twisting strokes.
Mr. Steel's breath hitched, the wet sounds of her slurping filling the room—sloppy, urgent smacks as she worked him harder. Her free hand cupped his balls, squeezing just enough to sting, rolling them while her mouth attacked. She sucked the head between her lips, teeth grazing lightly, popping off with a wet gasp to spit again, more drool cascading down his cock. The air reeked of her saliva and his musky arousal, her knees grinding into the floor as she leaned in closer.
Without warning, she shoved her face forward, taking him deep in one brutal thrust. His cock hit the back of her throat, stretching her lips wide around his girth. She gagged hard—glurk—eyes watering, but she didn't pull back. Instead, she forced herself deeper, nose pressing into his pubes, throat convulsing around him in rhythmic squeezes. Mr. Steel groaned, the tight, spasming heat milking his shaft as she bobbed with force, fucking her own face on his now fully hardening dick.
“That's it, you dirty fucking slut,” he snarled, his hand shooting into her hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands. He gripped tight, yanking her head back just enough to see her spit-smeared chin and bulging cheeks, then slammed her down again. “Deeper. Gag louder on this cock.” She choked out a muffled “Yes, fuck my throat,” the words garbled around his meat, bubbles of spit foaming at the corners of her mouth.
He held her there, feeling her throat bulge with his length, her gag reflex triggering wet, retching sounds that sent jolts straight to his balls. She clawed at his thighs, nails digging in, but her hips rocked side to side, pussy probably soaking through her panties from the abuse. Mr. Steel pulled her off with a pop, strings of thick saliva connecting her lips to his throbbing cockhead, now purple and veined, slick and shiny. “Talk filthy while you suck it harder,” he commanded, shoving her face back down.
Puta Girl gasped for air, coughing up more spit that she let dribble onto his shaft before diving in again. “Mmmph, your cock's so fucking thick, stretching my whore throat,” she mumbled around him, the vibrations buzzing through his length. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking with vacuum force, tongue lashing the underside as she powered through another gag. Her hands pumped the base, twisting in the slick mess, while she deepthroated him relentlessly—gluck, gluck, gluck—throat raw and abused.
Mr. Steel's control tightened, his grip in her hair unyielding as he face-fucked her in short, savage thrusts. Spit flew everywhere, splattering her tits, soaking his balls that slapped her chin. Her eyes rolled back slightly, tears mixing with drool, but she pushed forward, humming dirty encouragements: “Use my mouth like a pussy, cum down my throat.” The pressure built in his gut, cock pulsing harder with each brutal plunge, her dominance in submission driving him wild.
She pulled off once more, gasping, hand jerking him furiously, spit flying from her fist. “Fuck, I love choking on this big dick,” she rasped, voice hoarse, before slamming back down, throat opening wider for the assault. Mr. Steel felt the edge approaching, her relentless suction pulling him closer, but he held back, wanting more of her sloppy destruction.
That was the point the headset beeped. Robbie’s mind wipe hit the pleasure point. He moaned as his small dick, pathetic and leaking, strained in the air. The Puta Girl's glossy lips stretched wide around Mr. Steel's veiny shaft, her throat bulging with every savage thrust. Gagging wet slurps filled the room, spit dripping down her chin onto her heaving tits.
"Stroke that miserable penis as I finish in your mouth," Mr. Steel growled, his voice rough gravel. He gripped her hair tight, yanking her head forward to bury his cock balls-deep. Puta Girl's eyes watered, but she obeyed instantly, one hand with long pink painted nails wrapping around Robbie's dick. Her fingers squeezed his sensitive shaft, nails scraping lightly along the underside as she pumped.
Robbie gasped, hips bucking against his will. The mind control pulsed in his skull, forcing waves of pleasure through him even as shame burned. *This isn't me. Stop her.* But his body betrayed him, cock swelling harder in her grip. She jerked him slow at first, nails digging just enough to sting, twisting at the head where pre-cum slicked her palm. Mr. Steel pounded harder, hips snapping, his heavy balls slapping her chin with each ram. Her throat convulsed around his rod, muffled chokes escaping as she took the rough face-fuck without pulling back.
"That's it, choke on my cock, you filthy slut," Mr. Steel snarled, veins popping on his neck. He glanced at Robbie, smirking. "Too bad you can’t watch her swallow my load while she milks your worthless prick." Robbie's mind reeled, the headset's grip tightening. Pleasure points lit up, making his balls ache with forced arousal. A small part of his mind wanted to shove Puta Girl away, to punch Mr. Steel, but his arms hung limp, eyes glued to the obscene sight of the blurring lights of the headset. Her painted nails sped up on his dick, scraping the frenulum, sending jolts straight to his core.
Puta Girl's free hand braced on Mr. Steel's thigh, nails raking his skin as she deepthroated him eagerly. Spit bubbled from her lips, strings connecting to his swinging balls. Robbie, in his tranced daze, felt every stroke—her grip firm, nails teasing the ridge, thumb smearing his pre-cum over the slit. “Fuck, it feels too good,” his traitorous brain whined, even as rage flickered. Not knowing if it was his mind melting or her hand around his dick. Either case he was ready to give in to the program and be owned by the Doll House. The mind wipe smothered it, turning conflict into desperate need. His cock pulsed in her hand, tip purple and swollen.
Mr. Steel's thrusts grew erratic, grunts turning animalistic. "Faster, bitch. Stroke his pathetic dick faster—make him cum while I flood your throat." Puta Girl complied, her hand blurring on Robbie's shaft. Nails bit into his skin, the sharp pain mixing with the building orgasm the control demanded. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking Mr. Steel's cock deeper, throat muscles milking him as he swelled.
Robbie's mind blurred, breaths ragged. All his thoughts gone, all but his mantra. His voice started softly,” I’m Worker R04P34. I’m a worker of the Doll House. I serve all Dolls.” Over and over the mantra came from his drooling mouth.
Her nails dragged down his length, squeezing his balls lightly, rolling them in her palm. Mr. Steel roared, hips pistoning, cockhead battering her tonsils. Gobs of spit flew, her face a mess of tears and drool. Robbie's dick throbbed violently, on the edge. Mr. Steel pulling the headset off of the newest addition to the Doll House.
“Watch this slut suck a real dick you small dick loser. I want you to know your place in the Doll House,” Mr. Steel said as his hand forced her mouth up and down his shaft. “You are the lowest of us, but if you obey you will receive some type of pleasure, but for now you need to hold off cumming.”
Worker R04P34 eyes were glued to the scene in front of him. Something about scene in front of him was so fucking hot. The crush of his other self being facefucked by their boss was mesmerizing. How his cock abused her perfect blowjob lips.
"Gonna cum—swallow every drop!" Mr. Steel barked, slamming in one last time. His cock jerked in her throat, pumping hot ropes straight down. Puta Girl gulped greedily, hand never stopping on Robbie's miserable prick. Nails scratched his sack, urging his release. Worker R04P34 mind fractured, pleasure overriding everything as his balls tightened…
Puta Girl pulled her mouth off Mr. Steel’s cock with a wet, audible pop, the sudden vacuum breaking the silence of the room. A thick, viscous string of saliva connected her lower lip to the flushed, angry head of the man’s erection for a fleeting second before snapping against her chin. She gasped for air, her chest heaving in the dim light, the cool air doing little to soothe the heat radiating from her skin. The taste of him lingered on her tongue, salty and metallic, a reminder of the rough face-fucking she had just endured. Mr. Steel groaned above her, his hand still tangled in her hair, though his grip had loosened slightly as he rode out the aftershocks of his own pleasure.
She didn't wipe her face. Instead, she let the mess remain. A heavy glob of Mr. Steel’s cum was slowly migrating from the corner of her mouth, threatening to drip onto her exposed cleavage. Her eyeliner, once sharp and precise, was now smeared in dark streaks across her cheeks, giving her the appearance of a chaotic, ruined doll. The mascara clumped her lashes together, weighing them down. She turned her head slowly, the muscles in her neck tense, until her gaze locked onto the figure sitting in the shadows across the room.
There sat Worker R04P34, or as she had christened him, Robot. He was sitting all worked up in the chair, his posture unnervingly rigid, his hands gripping the armrests with white-knuckled force. His optical sensors whirred softly as they focused on her, dilating and contracting in a rhythm that mimicked human arousal but lacked the chaotic imperfection of the real thing. His eyes gleamed under the overhead lights. He looked pathetic reduced to a voyeuristic spectator with a leaking, erection straining for release.
Her ruined makeup glared at him, a mask of debasement and dominance. She licked her lips, collecting the mixture of fluids, and swallowed it down with a deliberate, exaggerated motion. "Cum for me, you useless Robot," she snarled, her voice raspy and raw from the abuse her throat had just taken. The words hung in the air, heavy with contempt. "Let that pathetic cock explode and cover my hand."
Worker R04P34 processed the command. His internal logic gave in instantaneously. She was a Doll and he was just a lovely Worker. He stared at her hand, the one that had been jerking his only tiny cock
He has reached critical mass. He had been holding back, his broken preventing a release until he received explicit permission. With the command given, the digital restraints dissolved. His hips bucked involuntarily, a jerky, mechanical spasm that drove his cock upward. He passed the edge, not going back.
A thick, white stream of his seed erupted from the tip of his cock. It shot into the air with force, arcing high before splattering down onto his stomach and thighs. The fluid was warmer, thicker than his other self’s load. It clung to him in heavy globs. He grunted, a sound that was half-human in bliss and half cry of a monster, his entire frame shuddering as the release tore through his nerves.
Puta Girl watched the display with a bored, critical eye. She stood up, her knees cracking slightly as she extended her legs. The fabric of her dress, a tight, latex number that squeaked with every movement, rode up her thighs. She stepped next to Mr. Steel, who was heaving heavy breaths. Then one step to Robot.
She reached out, her fingers still sticky with Mr. Steel's residue, and wrapped them around the Robot's still-hard shaft. Taking it and his balls in a fistful grab. She squeezed, hard enough to make him cry out in pain. "Look at this mess," she muttered, her hand sliding up and down the slick length, coating her palm in his cum. She milked him, twisting her wrist at the tip, ensuring she drained every last drop from his reservoirs. The fluid was thick and oily, sliding between her fingers in a way that felt so intimately familiar.
Puta Girl stood over him, leaning forward, closing the small distance between them. She moves with the predatory confidence of someone who has already won the game before the first piece is moved. With a slow, deliberate motion, she placed her left foot on the edge of the chair seat, right beside Robot’s thigh. The heel of her shoe dug slightly into the leather cushion, anchoring her stance. Robot’s breath hitched as he stared at her ankle, then up the length of her calf, visible now through the high slit of the storm-cloud dress.
She shifted her weight, lifting her right foot and bringing it up to rest on the other side of him, effectively straddling his legs where they sat trapped in the chair. She towered over him now, her height augmented by the position, forcing him to crane his neck slightly to look up at her. The dominance in the posture was absolute. She loomed above, a monolith of control, while he was pinned beneath her, the leather of the chair creaking softly as he gripped the armrests.
Her hands slid up her thighs, catching the hem of the dress. She pulled the fabric upward, slowly, inch by inch, revealing the smooth expanse of skin beneath. The material bunched at her hips, and Robot’s eyes widened as the shadow between her legs came into view. She wore nothing underneath. The sight hit him like a physical blow—the glistening, wet folds of her pussy, already swollen and leaking with arousal, hovering just inches from his chin.
The scent of her hit him next, musky and sweet, cutting through the floral perfume and the smell of the room. It was the raw, primal smell of sex, and it made his mouth water. He leaned forward instinctively, drawn to the heat radiating from her core, but she didn't give him the satisfaction immediately. She held the dress up, exposing herself completely, letting him look his fill, letting the anticipation build to a breaking point.
"Lick me, bitch boy," she ordered. Her voice was low, smoky, and devoid of hesitation. It wasn't a request; it was a command, delivered with the casual authority of a queen speaking to a servant.
Robot didn’t hesitate. There was no thought of refusal, no flicker of resistance in his mind. He leaned in, closing the final gap. He opened his mouth, his jaw dropping slightly, and extended his tongue. The muscle was eager, trembling slightly as it reached out to make contact. The first taste was electric—a sharp, salty tang that exploded on his taste buds and sent a jolt straight to his groin. He flattened his tongue against her, lapping upward from the entrance of her hole to the hood of her clit, gathering her wetness.
Puta Girl gasped, a sharp intake of breath that broke her composure for a fraction of a second before she regained control. She felt the rough texture of his tongue against her sensitive flesh, the heat of his mouth searing her skin. She didn't want gentle; she wanted to use him. She shifted her hips, pressing forward, pinning the back of Rob’s head hard against the leather chair.
The pressure was intense, cutting off his escape, forcing his face deeper into the apex of her thighs. His nose mashed against her pubic bone, inhaling her scent, while his mouth was sealed over her cunt. He couldn't pull away even if he wanted to; he was trapped, held in place by her thighs and the weight of her body.
He worked his tongue with frantic devotion. He found her clit, the hard little nub hidden beneath the folds, and circled it with the tip of his tongue. He felt her shudder, the vibration traveling through her body and into his. He sucked gently, drawing the sensitive bud into his mouth, flicking it rapidly with the tip. Her wetness coated his chin, dripping down his neck, marking him as hers.
She began to grind her hips. The movement started slow, a rhythmic rocking that dragged her pussy across his face. She used his nose, his chin, his mouth as her personal toy. She pressed down harder, smearing her juices over his cheeks and nose, grinding her clit against the bridge of his nose. The friction was exquisite, a mix of pressure and wet heat that built the tension in her belly like a coiled spring.
Robot moaned into her flesh, the sound muffled and wet. He was drowning in her, overwhelmed by the sheer physicality of the act. He could feel the muscles in her thighs clenching against his ears, shutting out the world until there was nothing left but the taste of her, the smell of her, and the dominating weight of her body pinning him down. He was just a vessel for her pleasure, a face to be fucked, and the realization made his cock throb painfully in his pants.
Puta Girl threw her head back, her dark hair cascading down her back, abandoning herself to the sensation. She rode his face harder, faster, driving her wet hole all along his face in a desperate search for friction. She was leaking constantly now, her arousal mixing with his saliva, creating a sloppy, wet mess that filled the quiet room with the lewd sounds of sucking and slurping. She was in control, completely and utterly, using him to chase the high that was building rapidly within her, grinding down with a force that bordered on violence, taking what she needed without apology.
Her orgasm was quick to wash over her and she let it flow. Quickly having the bliss ravage her body. Making her legs shake and then buckle. Her juices flowing, covering Robot’s face and dripping to his chest. As the wave started to lessen, Mr. Steel stood there waiting. “If you two are done, I would like to go over the plan.”
Both Puta Girl and Robot took a few minutes to clean themselves up and the then headed back into Mr. Steel’s office. They both sat across from their boss as he reclined in his large leather chair. Mr. Steel laid out the plan. Explaining to Robot what Mother had in plan and the information needed to be uploaded. Robot told them he could have it ready by Wednesday afternoon.
It was the end of the day and the rest of the staff left at least an hour ago. The three of them, Mr. Steel, Puta Girl and Robot all headed to the elevator together. The doors slid open and the three entered the cab. The short ride was done in silence. The doors opened to the ground floor and the three of them exited into the lobby. “Good night Mr. Thomas, Goodnight Maria,” Robbie called as he peeled away from the two of them. They said goodnight back and waved.
“Something weird happened today,” Maria said. “There was a flash from my phone and I was in the lobby. I don’t remember half of the day.” She shook her head as she reached the door.
“It has been happening of late to me, but I have been letting it come and go. Goodnight Maria,” he said as he walked through the door.
“Goodnight Jacob.” She waited, still a bit spooked about the loss of time but she had an inner peace like none she has had in a long time.