Sisters Gotta Share Ch. 12

Every time I walked into Desiree's office for the past few months, especially when she had given me a sadistically wry smile and scheduled a meeting at 6:00 PM, after almost everyone would be assuredly gone for the evening, I had walked down the halls of the office with my shoulders hunched and a sense of dread lodged in the back of my throat. It meant I was to fall prey once more to her demands for unreciprocated sexual favors and verbal abuse upon threat of losing the means of providing for Sara.

I would sit at my desk, getting little work done, staring at the clock, hoping to force it through sheer will power to stop its relentless march into that dark hour of sexual frustration and belittlement. I would sweat, I would cringe, I would feel my blood pressure rising, I would squirm uncomfortably, I would gnash my teeth, I would rub my eyes with the palms of my hands until the insides of my eyelids exploded with color, I would fret, and I would curse my loathsome situation.

It had, of course, occurred to me on more than one occasion to just give up and quit. I had plenty of experience, and had built up enough contacts over the years to reasonably expect a timely response to feelers sent out through my network.

The problem was that the company for which I worked was the only one in the industry that was located in reasonable vicinity. Any new job would necessitate moving my wife away from a job that she absolutely loved and at which she was very proficient. It would mean moving her away from her family, which would also mean moving away from the great sex I was having with her two sisters.

Besides, except for my immediate supervisor, I really liked my job. It was honest, interesting, and dynamic. The company was active in the community and sponsored several different local charities. The pay was relatively good, the benefits were excellent, the commute was short, and I got along great with all my coworkers, especially a certain Asian tart from IT.

Besides, compared to the number of upper-level contacts Desiree had at her disposal, I was a veritable miser. And it would not be beneath that vindictive witch to sabotage each and every opportunity I could muster if I tried to leave. She would view it as a betrayal; an attempt by me to deny her what she truly believed belonged to her.

Over the months, I had resigned myself to an inevitable fate of being a sex slave to a megalomaniacal mistress with a cruel taste for leaving her man-servants unsatisfied and insulted. So it would have been no surprise to you if I told you that on this particular evening, on my way to my boss's office for what was ostensibly another round of sadistic, one-way sex that would leave me blue-balled and humiliated, I walked with the familiar morose shuffle and defeated posture as had become my signature lately.

Not.

This.

Time.

I strode confidently through the hallway, whistling a classic rock tune and admiring the brilliant sunset visible through the windows as I walked past my coworkers' vacated offices. I swept into Desiree's office and gave her a bright smile.

"How's it going, boss?" I asked cheerfully, closing the door behind me and sitting down in a chair across from her desk. I set down a file folder in the chair next to me.

"Shitty," she said, humorless. "That is why I called you in here. You need to cheer me up or lose your job."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said happily, not really meaning it.

"Well, you can shove sorry up your ass and wipe that stupid grin off your face," Desiree hissed, her eyes narrowing into spiteful slits. Her hands had disappeared under the desk. There was the sound of metal clinking, and I had no doubt what was to happen next. She pulled out a pair of handcuffs and tossed them to my side of the desk. "Get naked and assume the position."

The "position" to which she referred involved me handcuffing myself to the chair so that I was bent over in such a way that she would be able to rub her hairy snatch in my face and then when she was ready, position herself underneath me so that I could fuck her. Of course, the idea was that if I attained orgasm during any of this, I would lose my job.

I glanced at the handcuffs, laying there, shining beneath the cold, fluorescent lights of Desiree's office. My grin grew and a slight laugh escaped that came off as more of a quick, nasal exhale. My eyes rose up and met hers. They had turned into daggers that up until the previous day would have caused my balls to shrivel up into my body.

Now, all I felt was the cool, grim satisfaction that I had last felt during my first encounter with Alicia.

"What's so funny?" Desiree snapped. "Do it, puta."

I looked at her for a moment with that same silky-sweet smile specifically designed to agitate her before simply saying, "No."

"No?" she asked, and cackled incredulously. "You think I'm fucking around when I say I will fire your guero ass in less than a second?"

"I don't think you're fucking around," I said cheerfully. "But I'll be working at this company for a long time to come."

Her brow furrowed. I was confusing her, and I loved it.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she asked. "Are you high?"

"Hardly," I replied. "I am just enjoying the sense of a job well done."

"Job well done?" Desiree asked. "You work for me! I am your boss! I fucking tell you when you do a good job! And you haven't done a good job until you get me off, you little prick!"

"On the contrary," I replied calmly. I picked up the file folder from the adjacent chair and put it lightly on her desk. "I finished my project for Jack."

I gave her a moment. Reality was dawning in her mind, and the look on her face as her mind raced was priceless.

"You know," I elaborated. "The one where I was trying to figure out why our budget was so seriously out of whack..."

If she had been humorless before, she was absolutely frigid now. "Yeah, I remember. So what did you find?"

I leaned forward and pushed the file folder closer to her.

"That is a COPY...of the findings," I said. She glared at me for a minute, trying to read me. I stared back at her smugly, and quite pleased with myself.

Desiree picked up the file folder and opened it, carefully but quickly perusing its contents. I sat silently and let her thumb through the documents. I had to stifle a giggle when I heard her indignant gasp. I knew exactly what she had found.

"How the fuck did you get into my bank records?" she demanded.

"A hacker I know owed me a favor," I said. I will admit: this was a bit of stretching the truth. Evelyn had agreed to break numerous laws only if I agreed to eat her pussy the entire time she tried hacking into the account. Two hours, five orgasms, and one very sore jaw later, we hit the jackpot. To celebrate the success, Evelyn had returned the oral favor.

"That's an illegal invasion of privacy, you motherfucker!" Desiree shrieked. "You're going to jail!"

"Not nearly as long as you," I replied coldly. "I daresay with the amount you've embezzled over the past ten years, you could very well die in prison."

"YOU BASTARD!!!" Desiree screamed. She violently wadded up the documentation and threw it across the room. Tears began flowing from her eyes, and she stood up and darted across the room to where the wadded up documents were. She picked them up quickly and started straightening them out as she headed to her shredder.

"I told you those are just copies," I said without even attempting to hid my amusement. "You may think I am stupid, but that would just be yet another mistake to add to the very long list."

At that she broke down. She fell into a heap on the floor and wailed into the carpet. Her body shook uncontrollably, and she sobbed incoherent words about "sorry" and "fucked up" and "ruined."

I let her cry for a while, and at the risk of sounding like a real jerk, I will freely admit that I enjoyed the sound of her cries. I sat there and soaked it up, reveling in my vindication. I wanted to taste her tears and kick her around while she was helpless and defeated. It would only be just.

But I had other plans.

As she came down off of a wail of self-pity, I spoke to her.

"Do you want to hear my offer?" I asked softly.

This seemed to shock her out of her grief momentarily and she looked up at me with blood shot eyes.

"What offer?" she growled.

"I have another report prepared that indicates that the budget issues amounted to repeated, and large, misappropriations and overspending on projects. It will still cost you your job, but you will not spend the rest of your life getting raped by prison guards," I said.

"I could turn the real report in and see you languish in prison. Believe me, after all the shit you put me through the last few months, I would derive a great deal of satisfaction from that outcome," I continued.

"I...I just..." Desiree stammered. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head and laughed. "What was it you said to me earlier? 'You can shove your sorry up your ass?'"

"Then what?" she asked bitterly.

"There are two conditions under which I would consider giving Jack the second, more forgiving report," I said.

"And what are those?" Desiree asked, wiping tears away from her eyes. She saw a glimpse of hope and was desperate to avoid the righteous punishment for her crimes.

"First, you leave and never come back," I said. "You pack up your shit, type up a letter of resignation, leave the state, and after tonight, nobody from this company ever hears from you again."

"You can't just expect me to up and leave my job!" she protested.

"I can expect anything I want," I countered. "I hold all the cards. If you do not want to deal, then I tell the truth and you lose your job anyway AND go to federal prison."

She considered this for a moment, biting her nails nervously like an indecisive child. It was great to see her twisting in the wind.

"Okay," she agreed at last. "I'll do it."

"I mean it," I said sternly. "If I so much as hear that you text messaged the copywriters, I will see you rotting behind bars like the piece of shit thief you are."

She shuddered as she nodded, looking down in shame.

"What is the second condition?" she asked quietly.

I stood up and faced her. In one motion, I swiped up the handcuffs from where they lay and tossed them to the floor next to her.

"Assume the position," I said with a smirk.

Her initial reaction was to assume she had not heard me correctly. "What?"

"Assume...the...position," I repeated.

Her feigned deafness was followed by incredulity. "You're joking, right?"

"Not at all, now do it."

After disbelief came confusion. "You expect me to fuck you after you've ruined my life?"

"Not really," I answered. "You can just stand there bent over. I'll do all the fucking."

Her perplexity gave way to anger. Her eyes once again ignited in that defiant, proud flame that I knew so well. "Fuck you! I agreed to leave, but I will be damned if I am going to give you the benefit of touching me ever again."

"That's your choice," I said cavalierly. "Good luck in the pen, Desiree. I'm sure a hot tamale like you will be very popular with the guards. But with any luck, your fellow inmates will be so impressed by your snobby, rich girl attitude that they will beat your face until even the guards won't touch you."

Stymied irritation quickly transformed into pleading rationalization. "You don't understand. My father is suffering from cancer, and he has no health insurance. The treatment costs so much...I had to pay the hospital bills."

I shrugged. "It's a sad story. Maybe the judge will care."

Tears began flowing again.

"Or you can pay your penance to me here and now. After all the service I have performed for you, it won't kill you to spend fifteen minutes letting me get my jollies in exchange for your freedom," I argued.

Slowly, she got up from the floor, defeated and relenting. She picked up the handcuffs and walked past me to the chair. I got up to watch as she put the cuffs on one wrist. She threaded the other cuff through a hole in the back of the chair, and then rested her knees on the seat. With a final sigh of disdain and an ugly look flashed my way, she cuffed her other wrist.

Vengeance, so cold and sweet, would now be mine.

The thoughts of the last few months flashed through my head. The humiliation, the belittlement, the coercion, the intimidation, the torture. It was time for all to be repaid. Of course, I was not fooling myself. There would be no way for me to fully repay all her transgressions in one shot. So I would have to make this one shot count.

I walked behind her. Her skinny butt, covered in a short, thin skirt, was propped up in the air by virtue of her position. Feeling a sense of anger wash over me, I brought my palm down on that ass hard. She jumped, clearly not expecting me to get so rough so soon.

"Yeah, bitch!" I growled, leaning over her and putting my lips next to her ear. My right hand grabbed as much meat on her rear as possible and squeezed it hard. "Now we play my game!"

I unzipped my fly as I walked around to the front of her. She looked up at me with a hateful sneer, but I just smirked back at her as I pulled my soft cock out of my boxers.

I put the cock in front of her face and slapped her cheek with it, rubbing the head all over her caramel skin. I then put it in her mouth, which opened and engulfed it.

I grabbed the back of her head and started fucking her mouth. She moaned in protest, but I did not care. I went up on my toes as I shoved myself deep into her throat, gagging her.

I pulled out my throbbing cock and let her cough it out. I gently put my fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face so that I could look into her eyes, which were once again full of tears. Smirking, my other hand slapped her across the face with a smack that seemed to echo down the hall even through the closed door.

"You son of a bitch! Nobody hits me!" she snarled.

"How many times do I have to remind you that you are in no place to make any demands?" I asked. I pulled my trousers off and walked behind her.

I grabbed her skirt with each hand on either side of the seam going up the side. With one violent jerk, I ripped and ruined a skirt worth probably close to three hundred dollars. I pulled the skirt up, revealing her skinny, but muscular ass. She had apparently taken off her panties in anticipation of our meeting.

I put my hands on her ass cheeks and spread them apart, revealing her nice, brown hole surrounded by a light tuft of hair. I mounted up and put the head of my cock against her tight sphincter, and she started pulling away.

"No!" Desiree cried. "Not there! I don't do anal."

"You do now," I said, and I pushed myself forward. She fought me, but with persistence, my dick finally found its way into her backdoor. She screamed with pain as I forced my way into her asshole. Her ass was so tight, I felt the tissue tearing as my cock sunk into her. Her cries only made me angrier, and I began pumping in and out of her ass with no mercy.

As she howled her objections, I balled up my fist and punched the back of the bitch's head. "Shut the fuck up!" I snarled.

Desiree's objections fell to nothing more than painful cries.

I was so excited by the fulfillment of my wildest dreams of retribution that I soon felt the pressure building in my balls. I pulled out of her ass and she went limp, sobbing in relief.

But I still had some humble pie to feed her.

I walked around to her front and pointed my hard, throbbing dick, which was now coated in her anal secretions and blood, at her face.

"Suck me off," I instructed.

Her anger seemed to be fucked out of her. She had no will to resist, only to beg.

"No, please," she cried weakly. "Don't make me do that...I'll get sick."

I squatted down so that I could look into her pretty face. Though I had been exacting my vengeance for merely eight minutes, her face looked as though she had aged fifteen years. Her eyes, normally so filled with sharp intelligence, genuine pride, and hostile condescension, were now puffy, red, and devoid of any life.

"You're still not seeing the big picture, Dez," I said. It was the first time I had ever used that particular nickname. It seemed funny that I would suddenly just come up with such a ridiculous moniker at such a random time, and I giggled a little bit. "You see, you can do this one time in your life and then forget about it. Or you can refuse, and then see how perverted your prison guards are. Locked up in there every day with a bunch of reprobates, I reckon a man would go a little crazy. I bet their imaginations go fucking wild. They probably get off to shitting in women's faces and the sort. So what do you say? You want to suck my cock?"

Desiree squeezed her eyelids together, and a tear streamed down either side of her face. "Okay," she said.

She opened her mouth, and I put my cock in. She recoiled at the taste, and I laughed at her. She relented and took it in again. Her tongue worked up the sides of my shaft as I pumped my hips into her face, and it seemed like the taste had dissipated by the time I was ready to come.

I pulled out of her mouth and jacked myself off onto her defeated face. My jizz coated her face, and I rubbed it into the skin of her cheeks with the head of my cock.

She seemed genuinely relieved, and she collapsed into the chair to which she was handcuffed.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" I asked, sitting in another chair in front of her, my cock softening. She shot me a look of renewed, fiery hatred. Apparently, I had not completely broken her will. There was a part of her deep inside that still refused to submit to my utter victory over her.

"That will not stand," I thought, as a new sensation began to build in my loins.

"I did what you wanted," she croaked. "Now let me leave."

"Where will you go?" I asked.

"Do you really care?" she asked.

"No," I acknowledged with a shrug. "But you can't go yet."

"What?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"There's one more thing," I said, standing in front of her again. "Put me in your mouth again."

"You're done!" she protested. "You said one time. You're not even hard!"

"Well, maybe you can fix that," I said. "Now do it."

Desiree seemed to contemplate arguing for a moment, but seemed to remember that she had no ground to argue from. She lifted her head and looked up at me with her mouth open. I put my soft dick in her mouth. She began to softly suck on it.

I released my resistance to the pressure that had been building and began urinating into her mouth. She realized what I was doing, but not before I had filled up her mouth and got some down her throat. She jumped back and away from me, collapsing on the floor and pulling the chair on top of her. She immediately spit out the urine in her mouth and began retching on the floor of her office.

I stood over her, triumphant, and continued to aim the stream of my piss on her head and back.

"You sick son of a bitch!" she screamed as I finished. "I will fucking kill you!"

"You can try, bitch," I said coldly, "but I will beat the shit out of you, rape your tight ass again, and turn you over to the police."

She began howling in sorrow once more as she lay in a pool of vomit and urine, her rectum bleeding and her head spinning. This time, I heard the last remaining pride leaking out of her voice. I got dressed. After I had gathered all my belongings, I released her from the handcuffs. She did not seem to want to move. She sat huddled in the corner of the office.

"Remember," I said as I left. "Any retribution and I will turn you over to the police. And I want you gone. This is the last time I want to see your face."

She nodded solemnly, and I knew I had broken her. If it was the last time I would see her, it was a fulfilling sight.