An Evening with the Webcam Ch. 05

Robert caught my hand as I walked past him. "Tease," he said. I tried to pull away, but he gripped my hand tighter.

"It's getting late," I protested. "I need to get dressed."

He spun me around forcefully, and I yelped in surprise. His hand went to the back of my neck, and he pushed me down hard, bending me over the table. I screamed and struggled against him, and his hand tightened on the back of my neck. He picked up the bottle of syrup and poured a large pool of it on the table in front of me. Then he shoved my legs apart, exposing me. My breasts flattened against the cool, hard tabletop.

"Lick up the syrup," he said.

I struggled wildly. "Let me go! I have to get ready for work!"

He pushed my face into the pool of syrup. "Lick!" he commanded.

Flushed with shame and humiliation, I started licking. The syrup was sticky sweet on my tongue as I licked it off the table.

He picked up the stick of butter. His grip on my neck relaxed slightly, and I looked up. "No, please, I don't have timAAAAAIIIGGHHH!"I screamed and struggled as he shoved the cold butter hard and fast into my pussy. He pushed my face back into the sticky puddle of syrup. "Lick it up!"

I lapped up the syrup, tears of shame running down my face. He violated me hard and fast with the butter, ramming it into me over and over again, not giving it time to warm up and get soft. I thrashed and flailed helplessly, trying to reach behind me and push him away, but he evaded me easily. Soon, I felt the orgasm I'd denied all morning stirring within me.

No! No! No! the rational part of my mind thought frantically.Fight it! Don't come! If you come, it will only show him that you like this! I struggled against the rapidly building glow, arching my back, squeezing my pussy closed against the invasion, trying to hold it off.No, no, no, you filthy tramp, don't you dare come...I gripped the edge of the table with both hands until my knuckles turned white. "Ggrrrrrrrrnnnagh!" My tongue plowed through the sticky sweetness, and I sobbed and lapped and screamed and writhed. Unbidden, my hips rose to meet his thrusts, and in that instant it was all over.

The orgasm ripped through me, agonizing in its intensity, and I lapped frantically at the pool of syrup and screamed and gave myself over to it completely. I was his, to use as he saw fit, and oh God, I wanted it...

An moment of darkness, then he slid the butter from me and the world slipped back into focus. I was still bent over the table, gasping, my cheek in the puddle of syrup he'd poured. His hand was no longer on my neck, and my pussy twitched and grasped on emptiness. He set the butter, now slightly melted and covered thickly with my white sexual juices, back on the tray. I twitched and moaned softly.

"Time for you to go to work. Clean up and get dressed."

"Yes," I said weakly. I stood and nearly fell, catching myself on the table. "And..." I looked meekly at the floor. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now go."

Time lent urgency to my actions. I washed my face and dressed quickly-medium-length skirt, cream-colored blouse, bra...

My breath caught and I shuddered as I drew the bra out of the dresser. He'd modified an ordinary soft cotton bra by pushing two thumbtacks through it and sewing them in place. He'd carefully filed down the points of the thumbtacks and rounded them. As I sipped the bra on, the blunt points of the tacks pressed lightly into my nipples, barely noticeable-for now. I knew that if my nipples got hard, the points would dig into them, stimulating them, preventing them from getting soft again; and over time, it would gradually become quite painful.

I whimpered as I fastened the bra, and became very aware of the slick, buttery wetness between my legs.Oh, God, I thought,please don't get aroused, this will be a very long day if you do... I gripped the edge of the dresser until the feeling passed, then finished dressing.

Robert was waiting for me by the door, and kissed me as I left. "Have a good day at work, love! I'll be waiting to ravish your body when you get home."

I made it to the office with only minutes to spare. The morning's workload was quite heavy, and the tears and humiliation and wonderful, delicious, sexy afterglow of the morning's activities soon faded away. I had clients to call and accounts to manage, and before long I was so immersed in my work the anticipation and arousal of Robert's parting promise were distant memories.

The afternoon's staff meeting was delayed, so I took a late lunch. I smiled to myself in the mirrored walls of the elevator on the way down, remembering the naughty fantasy I'd had in the elevator a couple of days ago. I had to resist a sudden, strange urge to pull open my blouse and press my bare breasts against the glass.

After lunch, I returned just in time for the staff meeting. It was a dreadful affair, even by the standards of such things; a guest speaker had been brought in to discuss the possible implications of a possible change in tax law that some congressman or other was nattering about. It didn't take long to realize that this self-described "expert" had all the charisma of potato salad, and even less understanding of financial markets. Several times I caught him staring at my chest, and I found myself laughing inwardly. Yeah, you wish, you gormless bastard.

An hour into the meeting, my cell phone chirped. I slipped it out and looked at it. The tiny screen announced a text message from Robert.

Go masturbate at your earliest opportunity. You have fifteen minutes to have an orgasm. Text me when you do.

Yr obedient srvnt, R

I caught my breath, pulse quickening, and glanced around the conference room. Everyone looked bored and fidgety; people stirred restlessly as the expert speaker droned, and several of my fellow bankers glanced over at me. I felt trapped in the meeting, with no way out and the clock ticking...

I shifted in my chair impatiently. Already I could feel the stirrings of sexual arousal. The speaker droned on, oblivious.

The minutes ticked by. My pussy moistened and twitched and my nipples began pressing into the unyielding metal points in my bra. I squirmed and struggled not to whimper. I wanted very badly to slip off into the bathroom, lock myself in a stall, and strip from the waist down; wanted to run my hands over my silky, smooth-shaven skin, probe my wet pussy with my fingers. I imagined myself sitting down on the toilet seat, putting my feet up on the door, and taking myself hard, screaming as I came, secure in the knowledge that everyone was in the conference room and there would be nobody to hear me.

Wetness overflowed my pussy and spilled from me. I gasped out loud as it soaked through my panties and dripped down between my thighs. The people nearest to me looked at me curiously, and a hot flash of embarrassment shot through me, lightning-quick. My nipples hardened and pushed into the cruel metal. I squirmed again, struggling to remain silent, and felt more wetness leak from me as I shifted. A whimper rose in me, and I stifled it and held my breath, flushed with shame.Please finish soon, I said silently,let this meeting be over, let me slip off and spread my legs and fuck myself vigorously...

More minutes passed. My nipples were on fire, sharp pain radiating in waves through my breasts with every heartbeat, and soon my pussy was twitching and clenching in sync. I imagined myself standing in the cramped confines of the tiny stall, straddling the toilet seat with legs widely spread, pushing four fingers into myself, spreading myself wide as my juices soaked my hand and ran freely down my legs. I imagined how much fun it would be to hold myself there like that, on the brink of orgasm, watching the time, not bringing myself off until one minute before the deadline; pictured myself texting Robert while I was still shuddering and quivering from my orgasm, my hand still wet with slick warm juices. I visualized myself mopping up the wetness on my hand and my thigh with my panties, then sliding them back on soaked in my come. My nipples ached; the thumbtacks pushed relentlessly into them, tormenting them.

The man sitting to my right-William, from the foreign investments division-turned to look at me. Had I moaned out loud? I wasn't sure. I shrank back, feeling like he could see my need, written all over my face, could see how desperately, frantically aroused I was. Another hot stab of embarrassment, and I prayed that I wasn't blushing. I felt exposed, as though I were sitting naked at the conference table; the feeling only increased my arousal, drove my nipples harder into the painful metal spikes. Could he tell? Could he see how frantic I was? Would he say anything to me? Hunger and shame battled inside me, and need burned deep within me.

Forget the stall. I wanted to go into the bathroom and strip bare, then lean brazenly over the sink and watch myself in the mirror as I took myself. I wanted to look my reflection in the eye as I came, so I could tell her what a whore she was as the orgasm ripped through me. I wanted to make her bring her dripping fingers up to her lips and take them in her mouth, and savor the look of distaste and humiliation on her face. I wanted to watch her fuck her mouth with her fingers as her other hand went between her legs, thrust into her, took her to orgasm again...

The other people in the conference room stood, and I realized with a start that the meeting was over. I glanced at the clock. Nine minutes until Robert's deadline; plenty of time. I rose, and headed for the door...

"Jackie?"

I froze, my blood cold, and felt my heart skip a beat. Panic set in as my supervisor crossed the room toward me. She knows, she can see...

"Do you have a minute? I'd like a quick status report on your updated client list, if you don't mind."

I let out my breath; I'd scarcely even been aware I was holding it. "Sure!" The word came out half as a squeak. "In fact, if you like, I can email you a status report..."

"That's not necessary. Just give me the quick rundown."

I stood in the doorway talking to her as people crowded out around us. I gave her a quick and overview of my client list, and she seemed satisfied by that. I looked at my watch as she left.

Four minutes.

With the state I was in, having an orgasm in four minutes would not be a problem. I headed for the ladies room and pushed open the door, quivering with excitement.

Immediately, my heart sank. When the meeting ended, it seemed everyone had the same destination I did; the stalls were all occupied, and several of my coworkers chatted with each other as they waited.

I whimpered, dismayed, and looked at my watch. With little time left, I decided to abandon the bathroom on this floor and try my luck elsewhere. Sheer force of will prevented me from running to the elevator; I made myself walk instead, and tapped my foot impatiently while I waited for it to arrive.

Three minutes.

The elevator doors opened and I darted inside. I was alone in the car; I pressed the button for the cafeteria level and looked at my reflection. She looked back at me with hungry, sexual eyes. "Whore," I said under my breath, and pressed my hand against myself between my legs. She did likewise, and I watched her squirm with desire. "Wait for it," I told my reflection reproachfully. "Plenty of time."

The elevator dinged and the doors rolled open. I strolled through the cafeteria, nearly deserted this late in the afternoon, and opened the door to the restroom.

Two minutes.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm almost finished cleaning in here," the janitor said. "Just let me finish mopping. Won't take but five minutes."

I glared balefully at him, nearly ready to scream with frustration and need. I spun around and left, mind whirling.What now? Parking garage? Sit in my car? I wouldn't make it in time.Back to my office? Too risky. My body was aflame; my nipples ached, and a trickle ran down my leg.The elevator?

I crossed that thought firmly out of my mind. The parking garage, and the relative safety of my car, seemed like the best bet, though it was on the other side of the building. I nearly ran from the cafeteria and down the long hallway leading to the stairway that would take me to the second floor of the parking garage.

Time was up.

I whimpered, wondering if there would be consequences for missing the deadline. The garage seemed miles away; I half-walked, half-ran down the hallway, picturing myself sliding into the front seat of my car, spreading my legs...

I stopped suddenly and backed up. The door I'd just passed bore a small plaque reading "custodial supplies." I tried the knob, and it turned easily in my hand. Heart pounding, I slipped through it.

The closet was small, barely four feet wide and perhaps twice that deep, and lined on both sides by steel shelves. I closed the door quietly and flipped on the light.

My heart hammered.Oh, no, you can't be serious, you are not going to masturbate in the janitor's closet! What are you going to do if he catches you here? What happens then?

I unfastened the hem of my skirt and let it drop. I felt even more vulnerable, even more intensely exposed alone in this closet than I had in a conference room full of people. I bent over, leaning on one of the shelving units, and put my hand between my legs.

Two minutes overdue.

I slid my panties aside. From somewhere far away, the rational part of me screamed at me.No! Stop! Get dressed! What happens if you get caught?

My fingers penetrated the center of my warm, grasping wetness. I sighed out loud and closed my eyes.If you get caught, they'll probably call the police...

Now there was an interesting thought. Oh, yes, I could work with that.

My fingers moved within me as I thought about what might happen if someone had seen me slip into the supply closet, and building security decided to call the police. I imagined the door opening, pictured an officer of the law coming through and finding me here, half-naked, bent over a steel shelf, fingers in my snatch. I visualized the look on his face, imagined him ordering me to stop what I was doing.

In my imagination, I straightened slowly, humiliated, and turned to face him. I imagined my futile attempt to cover myself with my hands and hide the fact that my thin panties were almost completely transparent with wetness. As the fantasy unreeled, gripped my wrist, taking my hand away from myself. He took his handcuffs from his belt and locked them tightly around my wrist, the cold steel circling it uncomfortably. I bent my head in shame, and my eyes fell on his crotch, and I realized with horror that he was rock hard; his cock strained against his pants, and a small spot of wetness had formed there.

He turned me around, not gently, forcing me to face the wall, and I believed he was going to cuff my hands behind my back. Instead, he shoved me forward. I stumbled and caught myself on the shelf. Instantly, he pushed me down, bending me over, and locked the handcuff around my other wrist. He released me, and I tried to straighten, then realized that he had cuffed my wrists around the steel post of the shelving unit. I was trapped, cuffed to the shelf, unable to escape.

"Well, missy, looks like you're in a compromising position," he said, and chuckled. "A very compromising position. Looks like you're depending on my good will to get you out of this predicament."

Without warning, he yanked my panties down to my ankles, exposing my dripping pussy. I began to cry, tears of shame and fright streaming down my face. "Are you going to r-rape me?" I sobbed, my voice quavering.

"Rape you? Oh, no," he laughed. "I have something a lot better in mind. But don't you worry about a thing, missy. Wet and horny as you are, you are, you'll like it." I heard a scraping sound as he drew his night stick from his belt and showed it to me.

"No!" I pleaded, "No, please, not that!" I wept and begged and tugged uselessly at the handcuffs. "Please, please, just let me go, don't do this to me!"

He grinned widely and stepped behind me. I felt the end of the nightstick touch my inner thigh, very lightly, and run slowly upward. I sobbed uncontrollably, my pleas tiny, as the cool, hard nightstick moved further up my thigh...

Then, suddenly, overwhelming violation as he shoved the wide, unyielding stick deep into me. I screamed and struggled, not caring if anyone heard me, not caring who came to investigate.

He raped me roughly with it, no mercy, driving the rigid nightstick into me fast and hard as I screamed and writhed and tears streamed down my face. He laughed at my tears, and my shame and pain prodded him to rape me harder, faster. "That's good, missy, you just take this big ol' nightstick up your snatch. I know what you need."

And then, in the greatest humiliation imaginable, my body betrayed me and I came, hard, pushing back against the nightstick just as I had against the butter. He laughed even harder and pushed it deeper. "That's right, missy. See? Told you I know what you need."

He yanked the nightstick out of my pussy, and I screamed at the pain. "Now just look at what you've gone and done," he said. "You've gone and got your come all over my nightstick!"

He brought it to my face to show me the juices thickly coating it. "You got this mess all over it. I reckon you better clean it up. Now lick it clean!"

I shuddered, wracked with disgust, and turned my face away. "No."

"Now missy, I don't think you realize the gravity of your situation here. I'm the only one who has the keys to those cuffs. The way I see it, that means if you don't want to make a spectacle of yourself on the six o'clock news, I think you'd better do what I'm tellin' you." He rested the end of the nightstick against my lips. "Now start lickin'!"

I pictured myself weeping with this fresh humiliation, utterly defeated, as I opened my mouth to comply. I imagined the hot tears on my face as I licked the nightstick, tasting myself all over it, and took the end of it in my mouth. I imagined him laughing as I ran my tongue over it, choking and coughing as I lapped up my come. "That's it, missy, get it all!"

With wrenching suddenness, I came. Ecstasy rushed through me, overwhelming me; the thumbtacks dug hard into my nipples, and I clamped my hand over my mouth to muffle my scream. I pulled my fingers out before the orgasm was finished, and stood shuddering and panting helplessly in the aftershocks. I brought my fingers to my lips, mind still filled with the image of the policeman forcing me to lick my come off the nightstick he had just raped me with, and I came again as I sucked wetly on my fingers.

Oh, my God, the rational part of me said,you are such a pervert...

I slid my panties back into place and drew my skirt back up, then looked at the time.

Six minutes overdue.

I pulled out my cell pone and typed a quick text message.

Done.

No reply came. I smoothed my skirt and left the closet, then summoned an elevator and rode back up to my office. My reflection smirked back at me knowingly.

Almost before I knew it, the day was over and it was time to leave. My nipples ached and burned, tortured mercilessly by the tacks in the bra; my panties clung uncomfortably to me; I wanted nothing more than to get home, get changed, and find relief from the unending painful stimulation in my breasts. I packed up quickly and was gone.

When I arrived home, I found Robert on the phone, chatting on his wireless headset. He grinned and greeted me warmly. "Hello, Jackie! I'm delighted to see you home. We were just talking about you!" He kissed my cheek affectionately. "Here, say hi to Jason!" He slipped off the earpiece and hooked it over my ear before I could respond.