For days I didn’t talk about it or even acknowledge it. Time had moved on and so had I. I was going to ignore it all. Pretend it never happened. That’s what I would do. Made sense. I kept smiling to people, never letting anything on. Sarah never said anything so she must have not heard… or heard and wanted to keep quiet. Fine. So did I! I was not a sub—I was going to beat this feeling.

I had to stop talking to Dom. It was difficult but necessary. He could make me do things and I knew I shouldn’t send him any more pictures of my red ass after spanking it for him. It didn’t matter as other men continued to message me on the board. Some were not worth replying to but others peaked my interest.

I named my favorite “The Player”. He was different than Dom. He seemed to like me more. But he is so rational! So logical. His first few messages sounded a familiar tone: “All girls like to be told what to do. Even smart, strong ones like to be used.” I was shocked—no woman would want that. But I started thinking and looking at other girls more. They wore short dresses, high heels, and low-cut shirts. Their sun soaked bodies were always tan. They laughed at all the jokes and flirted shamelessly. They would put their hands on the men, blushing.

And they got all the attention.

Here I was, trying to be conservative and without a single long term prospect in sight. As I talked more and more to Player, he brought up increasingly good points. Why was I killing myself for no reason? He is very low-key, never asking for pictures though I would give them. He simply says, “Don’t feel awkward, it is sex, it should be fun. You should just feel like you want more cum pumped inside of you.”

I happily talked to him for days. He sounded so smart, so funny, and had a great job so what wasn’t to like! I wanted to forever ignore that moment in the bathroom with Sarah and I had started to. But then Player mentioned how girls shouldn’t be constrained. I said I should be—I didn’t want to lose control like that one day in the bathroom. But Player ordered me to. He said, “maybe make a sex joke or say something dirty to a cute guy at work. See if you can give him an erection.”

I didn’t want to at first. It seemed dangerous. But I thought back to all those girls flirting and thought, “I should be more like them and not as afraid of sex.” So after a few weeks I started taking his advice. I started wearing higher heels at first. I thought it’d be a good test. I was shocked at how unsteady I was on them. Just doing simple office tasks was much more difficult.

Later that day I was loading the paper in the supply room, as I usually did. I didn’t usually think anything about it but the heels were giving me trouble. The back strap was cutting into my heel. As I stopped to adjust them a cute man walked over and offered to help. I mumbled ok and he quickly loaded all the paper. He winked at me before leaving. I was shocked. No one had ever offered to help me before.

Later that night I asked a friend about it. She laughed and said it was the unspoken deal with admins and the male workers. The admins show a little skin to help the men get through the day and the men will help out with small tasks to make the admins’ day easier. It was an exchange. Most of the tasks for the men at my company were mental and most of the tasks for the girls were menial. If the girls helped give the men some mental relief throughout the day then the men would help the girls with their tougher tasks, too. I was floored. I had never really thought of it that way. I wanted to experiment more!

I next wore a low-cut top. It was my favorite cream colored top with small brass buttons. Usually when I wore it, I wore an undershirt with it—but I didn’t that day. I wanted to test it out. I knew there were two male office-mates in a side room who always stared at Sarah’s chest. It had usually annoyed me but that day I picked up a random sheet of paper and walked right in. My palms were sweating as I asked them if it was their paper. Neither looked at me; they were ignoring me. I cleared my throat and asked louder. Finally one of them turned and said, “What!?” I saw his eyes lock onto my chest as I stood straighter.

“Did either of you print this out?”

“Let me see,” the man said, holding his hand out just a little while still sitting. I walked over and bent ever so slightly to give it to him. He never took his eyes off of my chest. I felt my shirt sag a little. His eyes studied the view. I blushed and quickly stood up, leaving. I went into the bathroom, shaking. I couldn’t believe I had done that! It was horrible.

And yet, exciting.

I told others about it and Player ordered me to go further, saying that I “should try and think about sex all day and not touch yourself at work. Do it while wearing something just a little slutty.”

With the annual summer heat wave hitting I started wearing sun dresses. I figured it would have been completely inappropriate but my boss even complimented me. Men started saying hello while staring at my chest more and more. I didn’t want to like it but I did. The attention turned me on. I wanted more. I tried doing as Player ordered me to: thinking more and more about sex all day. I wanted to touch myself but he had said not to.

Then one day I was in the supply room loading paper again. All I could think about was sex now. I hadn’t actually had sex in months and months but after forcing myself to think about it so long I started liking it. I had reverted to wearing wedges because they were so much easier on my feet. I was in my second favorite sun dress—a new yellow floral print one that was particularly short—with my back to the door. I heard a man’s footsteps as he walked down the hall to the room. Without even thinking, I bent over at the waist. Far over, almost touching my toes. My dress rode up my legs a little before tightening itself around my ass. I held it as the man entered the room. With my head between my knees I saw him freeze. I knew what he was staring at: my ass. The thin fabric of my sun dress stretched over my rear, hiding few curves.

Neither of us moved. What should I do now? And what had I been thinking? But I knew the answer to the second one…I had been thinking about sex. We both stayed that way for a few seconds before he crouched down. I finally saw his face but he didn’t see mine. He was too busy staring up at my panties. With a glance myself, I confirmed what I already knew: my mons bulged, straining against the slim light beige panties. Then I noticed he was holding his cell phone, about to take more pictures. Reddening, I straightened and immediately left. I didn’t make eye contact with him. I briskly walked past Sarah and, claiming I was sick, went home.

What had I just done!?

On the following Monday, my boss comes over to me. I prepare for the worst. But he’s smiling—smiling really widely, too.

“What’s wrong, sir?” I ask.

“Nothing! In fact, we want you to be the new receptionist. I think you should be the face of the company!” He laughs and I laugh, too. I’m ecstatic. I don’t know if I want to be a receptionist but I do know he still likes me. Maybe the man from last Friday didn’t say anything—or didn’t actually take pictures. Either way, I was very happy.

A few days later, my boss told me to get ready for a big client. It was the type of client to make or break us. I was to get all the food ready and make sure everything went smoothly—a big task!

That Friday I was in a slender, little black dress. The day sped by as I tried keeping things in order. It was hard keeping balanced on my new heels but Sarah helped a lot. The big client turned out to be represented by four men who drove in: a tall, quiet man; two fat, loud men; and a short, loud man. I don’t know any of their names so I called the tall, dark haired man “Allen”; the two fat men “Greg” and “Earl”; and the short man “Harry.” They had a nice car and wore old suits but swore and laughed constantly. I didn’t like them but it was my job to keep them happy. From the start they noticed me. I felt their eyes sliding over me every time I walked in and out of the room. Once I got too close to Earl and he grabbed my arm to get my attention. I was surprised by how strong he was.

At the end of the day, my boss invited me out to drinks with the clients. I started to protest but he waved me off. We got in the big SUV they had: Allen drove with my boss beside him with Harry and I in the middle seat and the two large men behind us in the third row. Earl offered to give me a back massage but I said no. I felt his hands on my shoulders anyways and tried to squirm away. He held on tightly, his fingers working their way into my shoulders and upper back. After a few moments I relaxed. Earl was actually pretty good at back rubs. I was sad when Allen pulled up to the bar and we had to get out.

After a few drinks at a bar, I was starting to feel tipsy. These guys were hilarious! They were crude but they were so funny! I still felt pretty weird so I looked around for my boss to leave with him.

“Oh, he took a taxi home already,” Earl helpfully said, “Are you done drinking?” I nodded so they paid and we walked out. I fell almost immediately—I was drunker than I had thought. Earl and Greg helped me up. They were so strong.

I stumbled to the car, cursing my heels. Allen drove and Harry got into the front passenger seat. Greg and Earl got in the center row, putting me between them. The cigarette smoke mixed with the smell of alcohol as the car pulled away. I reached down to undo my heels but Harry got to my foot first.

“Allow me,” he winked. He lifted my leg, placing it on the armrest. Slowly he undid the straps, one buckle at a time. I watched, just as fascinated as he clearly was. With one hand on my shin, he pulled the shoe off with the other hand. A huge smile stretched across Harry’s face as he looked at my bare foot.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Harry picked up my foot and sniffed it. I wrinkled my nose but he just held on. Suddenly Harry stuck out his tongue, running it from my heel to my toes. It felt really weird.

“Ew!” I said, trying to pull my leg away. But apparently even Harry was strong and I couldn’t budge as he continued licking my foot.

“Seriously,” Greg rolled his eyes, turning to me, “Now for the fun. Let’s see who was right!”

“Yeah!” Earl grinned, “How many sex partners have you had?”

“What!?”

“Sex. You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“N-no.”

“Then how many?”

My head swam. This didn’t make sense. “Um, two…”

“All right!” Earl exclaimed. “One for me. Next: what’s the longest penis you’ve ever handled?”

“I don’t like this…” I mumbled, only vaguely aware of them running their hands over me as I looked from one to the other.

“C’mon, don’t be shy.”

“Uh, I think… 5 or 6 inches?”

“What? Have you only been with Asians or something?” Earl asked.

“One for me!” Greg cackled. “Next, next: how often do you jill off?”

“What! No…”

“C’mon, sweetie, let’s hear it. Once, twice, three times a week?”

“No…” I blushed, “it’s more like twice a month normally.”

Earl nodded, “Figures. You’re way too horny. Another for me.” I felt my back zipper going down. Earl unbuckled my seatbelt. “Here, let me help you with this.” Faster than I can react, Greg lifted me up while Earl nearly singlehandedly pulled off my dress. I struggled but Greg held me tightly.

“Wha-what are you doing!?” I yelled, covering myself with my hands. I felt so exposed in my black bra and panties.

“Relax! This is fun! You’re going to have fun.” With one hand, Earl pulled my right hand away, tying it to his headrest. Greg pulled my left hand away, doing the same to his headrest. I finally notice that Harry has been licking my left foot, too. I realize I am completely helpless.

“This… wha-stop!” I trembled. My head was swimming. Was this really happening?

“Relax, girl! You’ll be fine.” Earl grabbed a handful of my right breast, squeezing. “So nice to feel some real ones for once.”

“I know!” Greg agreed, grabbing my left breast. “I can’t believe you didn’t guess A cups.”

“I should’ve. She just looked so much bigger in that dress.”

“Well, let’s make sure.” With no arms, I still struggled to get out. To slip a foot free, maybe kick Harry in the mouth if nothing else. He was sucking on my toes so much I thought he was stripping the nail polish. Greg reached behind my back, feeling out the bra clasp and undoing it. My bra instantly loosened.

“Dammit, Earl, we forgot to take it off before we tie her again! Harry, scissors!” Without his mouth letting go of my feet, Harry reached behind him and passed Greg the scissors. “Hold still, girl.” I froze as Greg pointed the sharp scissors at my chest. “Good girl.” With a few quick cuts, the bra fell apart. “Yup, A cups. We’re both tied at two.”

“But look at the nipples!”

“Yeah, those are bigger than quarters. Wow… That’s three for you, Earl.” I watched helplessly as Earl and Greg’s hands explored my chest. Their hands felt rough on my arms but on my chest they felt like sandpaper. In the dim light I saw the heavily calloused hands of the middle aged men stand in stark relief to my own supple skin. I tensed as they circled around my small tits, circling inward, circling towards my nipples. Greg reached his first, taking the nub between his fingers and squeezing. Gently at first but then harder and harder. I winced as the pain shot through me.

“Easy does it,” Earl said. His large hands finally reached the right nipple, tweaking it. Flicking it. Lightly brushing it.

Greg continued to pinch the left nipple. His massive hands covered the rest of my breast, leaving only the nipple exposed. He pinched it again, even harder. I strain, trying to get out.

“There we go,” Greg smiled, “Nice and hard.” Earl looked over, seeing the left nipple engorged and hard. “Tied at three! I knew this girl likes it rough.” Earl rolled his eyes, flicking the right nipple in annoyance. It, too, finally hardens. Both men leaned in to take a few licks of my nipples. I whimper in shock.

“OK, last few!” Greg said, taking the scissors and making short work of my panties. He pulled them off and felt the center. “WET!” He exclaimed. “Good girl is wet! I’m up, four to three!” I froze. I was wet. How am I wet? How am I turned on? I am turned on! How? My head spins.

Greg pried my left leg open, leaving Harry with the right leg.

“Waxed!” Earl shouted. “Point!” He ran a hand over my mons pubis. “And it was recent! Very nice.” Both leaned in for a closer look. I felt their breaths on my exposed pussy as they examined my slit.

“Please… please don’t touch it…” I begged.

“Why not? Is it special? Does it not like us?” Greg’s hands casually held my left leg open while Earl’s rested on my inner thigh. Their hands were mere inches from my folds and I could do nothing.

“Please… I…I…” I struggled, feeling the cold air conditioning blowing over my damp lips.

“If you can’t give us a good reason…” Earl shook his head. “I mean, your body wants it so badly.”

“But… no… anything but my pussy!”

“Here’s the deal,” Earl explained, “I want it. Greg wants it. Your nipples want it. Your pussy wants it—hell, it’s wetter than a river! The only one holding out is YOU.” Earl’s hands started brushing my inner thigh. His massive, strong hands strayed closer and closer to my opening. “Do you think that’s fair?”

“B-but it’s mine… please…”

“Girl, quit the act,” Greg muttered. His own hands wedged themselves into the junction between my leg and my pussy. So close! My mouth dries out. It’s killing me—they’re so close—I have to fight them—but I can’t!

“Your sweet cum is running down your crack now. Do you really want to keep your pussy to yourself?”

“Look at her little clit!” Greg’s hand brushed around it, carefully not to touch me. “I bet it’s hungry.” He softly brushed around the hood. I grunt, angry at myself. Angry at my pussy for being so excited. For wanting this.

“Ok, how about this?” Earl smiled. “We’ll make you cum in ten minutes or you can go free.”

“N-no… please…”

“Five minutes then? You can last five minutes, right?”

I thought about it. It was a terrible deal. I had never been that horny before. I wouldn’t last ten but maybe five… “ok…”

“Great!” Greg’s hand immediately grabbed my mons, pulling it slightly. My clit, trapped in the center, felt the pressure as Greg squeezes the hood around it. Electric shocks ripped through me as his hard, practiced hands began to massage my button. His other hand goes up to my breast, resuming his finger-and-thumb pinch. The combination sends a shiver down my spine and I gasp. No man was ever this rough.

Earl leans in, pushing my legs apart. His fingers trace my lips, my soft, pliant skin yields to his rough calluses. He runs a single finger back up my slit, holding it up. It glistens with my juice in the muted light. With his other hand, Earl spreads my lips wide. I see him eyeing my sex, taking all of it in. I feel their breaths on my clit and my inner thighs. Earl positions a finger at my entrance.

“N-no, you said… you…” I try to yell.

Earl looks at me. “I want to know how tight you are. I want to find your G-spot.”

“No, no, no!” I stammer, ineffectively.

Earl slowly inserts his finger into my pussy. I feel his tough finger as it passes through my folds and into my vagina. I grunt again with the penetration.

“S-stop… please…”

Greg pinches my nipple again, squeezing all the blood out of the tip. As soon as he releases it, the blood rushes back in, engorging it even more. I groan with the pain. His hand around my clit continues its massage. My clit begs for more attention, standing proud. Greg leans over, pursing his mouth. A long drop of saliva stretches out before dropping onto my clit. My revulsion is second only to my excitement. I feel my breath coming faster and faster now.

Earl’s finger is now all the way in. My vagina is still very tight but he slowly spins his finger before slowly inserting a second finger. “Good girl,” Earl says, “that’s it. Let me in.” I feel my hips moving now, trying to push down on him.

Greg pulls my nipple now, pinching and pulling it all over. He lets go of my clit and—finally—starts rubbing it. I moan loudly with pleasure. My hips gyrate with the same pulse as his hand on my clit and Earl’s fingers in my pussy. Both of them start moving faster. Earl’s fingers moving in and out, faster and faster, as my pussy drips cum. I feel myself getting closer and closer.

“Yes, yes!” I shout, “Faster! Faster!”

Their fingers move faster and harder, pumping and rubbing me. I tense, feeling even Harry licking my feet still. It’s too much for me.

“Good girl, now cum for us!”

“Ahhhhhhhh!” I scream as I cum on command. My pussy convulses around Earl’s fingers, my juices leaking out. After a long orgasm, I finally collapse, limp.

“Very good girl!”

I am ashamed. I don’t know why my body turned on me. They celebrate as I drift off.

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