Date: Wed, 9 Apr 2008 13:56:44 +0800 (CST) From: Casey Jordan Subject: Office Slut: Part 1 This story contains sexual exchanges and activities between adult males, both consensual and non-consensual, and scenarios involving punishment/torture, bondage, domination/submission, humiliation, and exhibitionism. If you can't bear to read such stuff or if it's illegal for you to do so, please stop reading right here. Otherwise, enjoy! This story is about a submissive young (22-year-old) gay asian male who's gone to work for a multi-national company as a programmer, only to discover that his caucasian supervisor is a sadistic, boi-loving man bent on dominating him and using him for his carnal pleasures. Just to put things into perspective, our protagonist is slim, small and stands at only 5'2" (small even for asian standards), while his supervisor is big, hairy and stands at a beefy 6'4". Comments and suggestions welcome at: sub_casey@yahoo.com. Office Slut - Part 1 (M/m, anal, toys, reluc, interr, humil, spit) by Casey "No lunch today," says the private message from you on yahoo messenger. "I need to get off bad". My heart starts to beat faster just reading those words, knowing what they usually mean. From then on I can hardly concentrate on my work, my mind helplessly wandering to similar situations, previous occasions on which you had sent just such a message to me. You must have noticed it, too, for a few minutes later another message flashes on my screen. "You look like you can hardly wait. You're such a transparent little slut." My hardening cock twiches. Shame overcomes me as I drop my gaze meekly to the floor. When the others finally ask me out to lunch I politely decline, saying that I had a late breakfast and that I want to finish some extra stuff. Some of them look down skeptically at me, while a couple others give me advice. "Don't work too hard, man," Jason tells me with a pat on my back followed by a knowing glance at you, who seems to be engrossed in some reports on your desk, sitting across the aisle, four cubicles away. I feel my heart give a lurch as Jason continues on his way. Does he know? Do the others know? I've always feared that, in your wild and frequent desires to take me, somebody might have seen or heard something. If word got out.. Once the others are all gone, you look up from your reports and gaze over at me seriously. I can only wait, petrified to my chair as you stand up and saunter slowly over to my cubicle, rubbing your obvious bulge lewdly as you do so. I know all about that huge monster you pack in your pants. It's long, it's thick and it's always hungry. "Stand up and strip," you command me, your tone brooking no argument. You are always supremely confident that I will obey you, as if you have a divine right to be obeyed by me anytime, anywhere. And you do. I have no choice but to obey. Pushing my chair back nervously, I stand up - my small young asian frame barely reaching your chest - and begin to unbutton my shirt. "Hurry up, faggot," you urge me impatiently. "Everything off, quickly!" I have barely finished with the buttons before you take hold of the collar of my shirt and yank it away off my body. You fling the shirt away like so much rag, causing it to lie crumpled on the floor near the aisle. My hands are shaking now as they turn to my belt buckle, but you let me finish with it myself this time, merely crossing your arms on your chest and looking on as I slide my trousers down my smooth hairless legs. What little hair I had went quickly once you decreed that I keep myself smoothly-shaved except for my head and a little patch over my now not-so-private parts. As I step out of my trousers, you extend one foot to tug at them and then kick them away off to one side. It's not enough that I stand there naked except for my shoes and socks (you've forbidden me from ever wearing any underwear); you want me to feel completely helpless and vulnerable so you make sure my clothes are strewn all over the place, as far away from me as possible. You know me too well. My naked form stands small and fragile facing you, my hard 5- inch cock bobbing in the cool office air. You take hold of my shoulders and turn me around roughly. I can sense you bending down to reach for the ring that is dangling from a piece of string between my legs. I gasp as you slide a finger in it and begin to pull on the string, feeling the pressure begin to build in my guts. I grit my teeth as you pull harder. I can feel my anal lips slowly giving way, pouting outwards as you pull steadily on the string. Within seconds I can feel the first anal bead appearing from my nether hole. You continue to pull firmly, but not quickly, just enough to tease the thick sphere out gradually, a sphere that is slightly bigger than the average pingpong ball. "Bend over. I want to see this," you command me. I obey quickly, bending over and placing my palms on my knees, arching my back down and pushing my butt out the way you say I should always do it. You continue pulling slowly until the sphere is halfway out. I am panting now since my hole is being stretched at its widest. Then you stop, making me wonder until I feel the bead slowly popping out the rest of the way on its own. I cannot help but to let out a low moan as this happens. You've always known how to make me feel like a slut, and that is exactly how I feel as the bead slides out of my pouting boyhole. You repeat this process with the second bead, which is slightly smaller than the first one but still causes me to moan as it pops out. As you start on the third, I begin to relax, knowing that they only get smaller. Then, suddenly... YANK!!! "Nnnnnnnnnnngggggggghhhhhhhhh!!!" I moan loudly and long, almost like a cow in labour. My knees almost give way as you yank the whole thing completely out of me in one swift motion. I feel as if my guts are being pulled out along with it, and I can feel my ass-walls and lips collapsing outward, twitching in the air for a couple of seconds before my natural reflexes pull them back in. I throw my head back and continue to pant and moan, my feet staggering for purchase as I strive to keep from falling over and upsetting you. As I continue to whimper, something flashes in front of my face and I focus my eyes on them. With your hand reaching over my head, you are dangling the string of beads in front of my face. I can see them, all eight balls glistening with my own assjuice. "Take them in your pretty little mouth," you order me. "And you'd better take them all." I push myself further forward, asshole still smarting and winking from the previous ordeal, and take the first and smallest ball into my mouth. I know that just holding it in my mouth wouldn't do; you'd want me to 'make love to it', as you always want me to do with anything that goes into my mouth. So I run my tongue over the bead and flip it over and over in my mouth, licking all the juice from it and swallowing. You shake the string slightly, urging me to go on and take another. Obediently I slide my tongue out and take the second one, cleaning it of my own assjuice. By the time I reach the fourth bead, my mouth is becoming fairly stretched. The fifth ball has nowhere to go but inside my left cheek, while the sixth ball pushes two other balls to the other side, filling my right cheek. My mouth is now very full, both my cheeks puffed out to accomodate the beads that just spent half the day in my boy-ass. You shake the string again. "I told you to take them all," you warn me. But try as I could I cannot quite manage it. "Useless little cunt," you swear at my disobedience. "You _will_ take them all." Taking hold of my little waist with your other hand you begin herding me forward towards my desk. Then you push my bent-over form onto the desk, my chest pressed hard against the cool wood. The desk is kind of low so this makes my ass push up and out towards you, exposing my hole completely to your gaze. You gather the remaining two, largest beads in the palm of your hand and begin to mash them against my lips, forcing them to go into my over-stretched mouth, eliciting muffled moans from me. "Mmmphh... Hmpfff...." Tears begin to gather in my eyes. I hear the sound of your zippers as your other hand frees your member from its confines. Then the hand presses down on the small of my back, trapping my smooth little body under the upcoming onslaught. Within moments I can feel the head of your cock pushing against my tight opening. You break into me easily, taking only about a minute to bury six inches of your thick shaft into my boychute. You know that is more or less the deepest I can accomodate, but it has never stopped you from trying to stuff the remaining three inches inside me anyway. With one hand pressing down on my back and the other forcing the beads into my mouth, you begin to grind against me, screwing my boycunt in a circular motion in an attempt to force more of your cock into me. I can feel the hefty girth of your tool - almost twice the thickness of my own - pressing against my asswalls, forcing them to balloon out of proportions. Your cockhead pokes and probes at something deep inside my guts, urging it to give way. I remember your promise to me, that one day I _will_ take all of you in me, even if you have to shove your hand in and re-arrange my insides yourself. I imagine what it would be like if someone were to step in at that moment. There I am, bent over my own desk in only my socks and shoes, my mouth fully stuffed with anal beads and being forced to take more, my little body bouncing back and forth as you ram your throbbing mancock in and out of my boycunt. I am grunting and moaning like a bitch, partly because of your cock raping me and partly because each in-stroke would force my mouth to stretch even more around the slime-covered anal balls. The two remaining beads are now almost completely in, my lips stretched and open, my mouth stuffed to obscene shape with the white balls. Pushing down even harder on my back, you lean your much larger body onto mine and begin pumping into me even harder, slamming my thighs into the edge of the desk mercilessly. It seems to me like everyone in the building must be able to hear the racket as the desk in turn slams repeatedly into the partition walls. You breed me like this for what seems like hours, oblivious to my yelps of pain and the flailing of my arms as they push despairingly and ineffectually at your strong steel-like hands and pumping hips. Drool drips continuously from my splayed open mouth, making a sizable pool on the desk along with my tears. The fact that anybody might come into the office at any minute and witness my abuse and degradation finally drives me over the edge and before I know it, my rock- hard boyclit is spraying large amounts of boy-sperm all over the carpet. It is not the first time that I cum without touching myself under your assault. Suddenly you yank me off the table and push me down roughly onto the floor. Again I know what you want and I wait there on my hands on knees, my back low and my butt high. Soon I can feel your hands on my hips, pulling me back onto you as your mancock slams into me again. As your red hot poker settles into its customary glove, you reach out to grab my hair in your fist and pull my head back. You fuck me like this for about 10 minutes, your hand jerking my head back painfully in tandem with your cock plowing into my depths. Without your hand to keep them in, the anal beads begin to untangle and finally fall out of my mouth. This also means that my cries are no longer muffled, and cry out I do, and sniffle and whimper like a poor raped bitch. Then you lift me up, one arm around my small waist and the other hand firmly cluthing my hair to keep me upright, your cock never leaving my hole, and carry me over into the pantry. I am now no longer a stranger to being carried around everywhere during a fuck, since one of the first promises you ever made to me was that you would fuck me everywhere, that there wouldn't be any place in the office or anywhere else for that matter where i wouldn't take your cock inside me. In the pantry, you lay me down on the round coffee table, twisting my body on your cock until I am lying on my back on the table. You lift my legs onto your thick shoulders and hunker down low over me, pressing my knees far enough that they are almost slamming into the table on either side of my head at each in-stroke. You proceed to power-fuck me like this long and hard. The force of your fucking shakes the table constantly and would at times cause it to tilt and slam noisily back onto the floor. I wonder what the people in the office downstairs are thinking. Finally, I can feel you tensing up, and on the last in-stroke you keep your cock inside me, grinding it into my guts. You hunch down lower until your face is inches away from mine, my knees this time pressed firmly down onto the table effectively folding my body in two. You let out a long low growl as your cock begins to pulse, once, twice. On the third pulse your rich mancum spurts into my depths, a thick strong jet I can actually feel spraying my insides, followed by another, and another. You unload eight or nine spurts inside me, filling me with the essence of your manhood, adding to the gallons you have already deposited over the last few months. As you pump your huge load into my sweaty, fevered little boy body, my eyes glaze over and I cum again, shooting my own semen hard onto my chest and belly. As my young balls surrender their last few squirts of cum, you stare deeply into my eyes and open your mouth. I can see your throat moving and I open my own mouth wide, knowing what is coming. I wait demurely, teary-eyed and panting, as a big glob of spit appear in your mouth and plops its way down into mine. I savour the thick liquid on my tongue, tasting the totality of your hold over me, the utterness with which I belong to you, just the way you say I must. Then I swallow it, my eyes never leaving yours, feeling more worthless than I've ever been. Satiated, you pull your softening mansnake out and pack it back into your pants. "Don't clean up," you tell me before you leave. "You can put your clothes back on now. But don't forget to stuff the beads back in!" I get up gingerly from the table, careful not to let your cum leak out, and make my way slowly back to my desk, picking up my pants and shirt along the way. I'm now much more aware of my nakedness and I quickly shove the anal beads back into my asscunt, noting how some globs of cum are squeezed out around the balls anyway. I pull on my trousers and button my shirt back on. The sweat on my body and the streaks of cum on my chest and belly immediately make my shirt stick to my skin. I feel sticky and dirty. As I look down at my humiliating state in despair, I can see you looking over at me with a smirk on your face. Just as I finish tucking my shirt in and buckling up my belt, the first of our colleagues return from lunch. I sit down and pretend that I have been working all the while. But the feeling of cum seeping out of my boypussy onto my pants makes me feel so degraded and used, and the smell of semen wafting from my cubicle and my body seems to be overpowering. Surely some of my co-workers would notice? Surely they have begun to suspect, somewhere in the back of their minds, the truth about how you use this cute little asian boyslut when they aren't looking..?