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as your fingers press against my lips, f it to open. You are pushing
really hard and I feel your body tensing up in a my
resistance. All sorts of thoughts are tumbling in my head as the reality of
the situation dawns on me. But right at the back of each thought is the
fear, the fear of what you would do to me if I disobey you now. So,
relutly, my lips begin to part, little by little allowing your finger
to enter my oral cavity.
"I need our boy here to pare the two reports," you tinue, putting a
notable emphasis on the word 'boy'. My mouth is now fully open and your two
fingers are pushing deep inside. "Oh yeah and print the annual reports,
too, in case those don't tally as well," you say as you roll your fingers
around on my lips, urgio do my part. With my face surely still
flaming with humiliation, I begin to lid su them. Despite the
shock of being exposed in such a degrading mao a colleague, my cock
is now hard again and straining against the see- through material of my
panties, a fact cealed only by the position of my body against the edge
of your desk.
"Well... sure," I hear Steve say.
A few seds pass without a sound and I open my eyes, only to see Steve
staring at me. For some reasoher y eyes again nor look
away, so there we are, me sug on your fingers like a child with a
lollypop and Steve looking on in fasation. Then he blinks and, after an
unreadable gla you, plops down ba his seat.
You twist my head around by using the fingers in my mouth until I am
looking into your eyes. You grin as you see the silent tears in mine.
Then you lean down to my ear. "Don't give me any of that teary-eyed shit,"
you whisper harshly. "I know you like to be shown off like this, like the
depraved little slut that you are. I know that deep down, you _want_ them
all to know what you are. You want the whole world to know what you are. A
slutboy. A fucktoy for men to use and abuse as they want. Otherwise your
little boyclit wouldn't be so hard as it surely is now, would it?"
Nothing about me is hidden from you. You know things about me that even I
have never known before, and by knowing, you are able to trol me
pletely, treating me like nothing more than your sex puppet. I stiffle a
sob, but a drop of tear runs down my left cheek.
You take your fingers away then and shove your hand one last time into my
pants. You stab the fingers into my open, twitg hole, twisting them
around hard to get all the remaining juices in my ass. Then you pull your
hand out and, instead of shoving your fingers in my mouth, you spread your
hand and smear the ass-juice all over my face. I smell and taste the
pu aroma of my boyt, and in despair realise that I will have to
spend the rest of the day with my face smelling of my ass. How many other
people in the office will also know it by the day's end?
"There you go," you pat me on the back. "Now go back to your desk. Go on,
get the hell out my sight, boy!" As you say the last sentence, you pull me
up by one arm and propel me away from you. It is all I do to grab at
the front and bay pants to make sure they don't fall around my
feet. I keep my eyes on the floor, my cheeks flaming with utter humiliation
as I make my way awkwardly towards my cubicle. I know that it is impossible
for everyoo miss the sight, and that at least a few sets of eyes would
even then be widening in shock at my predit. My mind rages at the
injustice of your treatment of me, but my hard cock tells me that the
wicked submissive streak in me enjoys it immensely.
"Are you okay?" a voice asks me once I am seated bay seat, my pants
zipped up and my belt buckled ba. I look up and realise Jason is about
halfway to my cubicle.
"Yes.. Yes I'm fine," I smile at him wanly, all the while terribly
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