Future Female Partner

She didn't reply, frozen with her eyes on the laces of his shoes, but in her silence he heard all he needed to know. Grabbing fistfuls of her blouse on either side of the buttons, he tore it open, buttons exploding like popcorn. Her hands went to chest, fingers screening her cleavage. He grabbed her wrists and threw her arms down her her sides. "That bra says you're a realist," he said before yanking it down.

Her hands jumped back up to her breasts. "Don't," he commanded. After a moment of hesitation she lowered her arms, folding her hands neatly in her lap, allowing him an unobstructed view. "I do like big tits," he said like she was trying to convince him to do what he was about to do.

He freed his cock, letting it drop onto her face. It came to rest with the shaft running parallel to and on one side of her nose, covering her left eye, a bead of pre-cum connecting his purple head to her forehead. "Ten inches," he said. "Just in case you want to brag to your girlfriends later. Is this the biggest cock you've seen in real life?"

"No," she said quietly.

He laughed. "If you're going to work here, you need to learn when to lie. Now open your mouth," he said. She obeyed. "You're a bad girl," he said, and then he pulled back his hips, aimed at her lips and thrust his cock into her mouth and down her throat, feeling her resist, her throat closing, teeth biting down painfully on his shaft.

He withdrew his cock, gathered a fistful of her hair and yanked downward, forcing her to look up at him. "Open your eyes."

What he saw in her brown eyes--the humiliation, the fear, the shame, the tears--told him he'd misjudged her. "Aww you're not a bad girl, are you? No, you're a good girl," he said. "That's not a fit with our culture, but you seem pliable; maybe we can make you fit, huh? Open your mouth--and no fucking teeth."

This time when she tried to resist, he forced her head down on his cock with both hands on the back of her head. She gagged, struggling helplessly to rear her head back as he held her there, but she dared not bite down. He moaned loudly as she choked.

He pulled her hair into a ponytail and yanked her head back, great strands of saliva connecting his cock to her face. He gazed down at her red face, unfocused eyes, tears mixing with saliva, but said nothing, slowly jerking off on her face. And then it was back in, this time vigorously fucking her face, using her ponytail as a handle.

After he slaked his thirst for her throat, he pulled her to her feet by her hair with a guiding hand on her throat. "Take off your skirt," he said, not unkindly, almost as if it was suggestion. After a moment of fumbling her skirt dropped to the floor, revealing a tangerine thong. "Now the panties."

But here she refused, shaking her head, finally meeting his eyes, pleading. He didn't know whether the tears running down her cheeks were from her gag reflex or this new humiliation, nor did he care.

Too lust-drunk to carry on playing the game of making her obey, he tore off her flimsy thong, ripping the delicate fabric. He brought it to his nose, inhaling her while he forced his index and middle finger together inside her, surprised to find her well-lubricated. Her gasp made his cock twitch in anticipation. "You're already ready for me," he said approvingly. He removed his fingers and put them to her closed lips, offering her a taste of her body's betrayal. Her lips remained tight, and she shook her head. He smiled and stuck his slick fingers in his own mouth instead. "Mmm, you're missing out," he said playfully.

He could deny himself no longer and lifted her easily onto the desk. Her hands shot down to her pussy, her knees coming together. "No no no," she said shaking her head. He pulled apart her knees and stepped between her legs, his cock resting on top of the back of her protecting hands, that ten-legged goalie. "No, please!" she begged. "I'm not even on birth control."

He grabbed her wrists. "Not to worry, Lena, we have generous maternity leave. Why Candice was off for a whole year with twins right before she made partner."

He pulled her hands away from her recently-shaved pussy, bringing her slender wrists together and holding them above her head with one hand while spreading her lips with his other, admiring her bubble-gum pink pussy. "You're a very pretty girl, you know that, Lena?"

He let her wrists go, and her arms went limp at her sides. Keeping his position with his cock inches away from her, he poured them both another drink, putting hers in her hand and clinking her glass with his. She gulped it down and lay back while he took a sip of his, savouring the moment. It was very expensive, the whiskey, and commensurately smooth, but he didn't really give a shit what it tasted like; what he really liked was knowing the price, each sip as decadent as liquid gold. With deliberate slowness, he set his drink aside.

Her hands had found their way back to their protective stance, so he again grabbed her wrists, this time keeping a hold of them, one wrist in each hand and leaned down on top of her, pinning her wrists to the desk on either side of her head as his hard cock found her hole. Agonizingly slow, he entered her, her softly whimpering, him softly moaning. After getting half-way in, he lost control and thrust himself fully inside, making her squeal loud enough to be heard beyond the closed door.

Her squeals and soft screams only fueled his lust; it was the feedback he craved, and it made him savage with lust, his thrusts coming fast and hard. Soon they were both breathing heavy in tandem, and her cries mellowed.

When he'd fucked out himself out of his spell, he slowed, regarding her, cheek against the desk, eyes squeezed shut. Gripping her chin, he tilted her head back so she was looking up at him. She opened her eyes, which were no longer afraid, and he leaned down and slipped his tongue into her mouth.

Having made his mark on her cunt, he removed himself, flipped her over and pulled her ass to the edge, positioning her so she was bent over the desk. Holding her head on the desk with one hand, he slapped her ass over and over, harder each time, making her squeal and gasp louder each time in flagrant disregard of his repeated direction to, "Shut the fuck up, whore," so he threw open the top drawer of his desk, plucked a pair of red silk panties, and after taking a delicious moment to inhale them, he forced them into her mouth and held his meaty hand over her mouth, muffling her effectively.

Even through the fog of booze she realized what he meant to do next. Her muffled screams got louder and she desperately tried to wriggle away from him. "That's right, slut," he said, nudging the head of his cock between her ass cheeks. He paused, drinking in the visage before him, hypnotized by her wiggling butt as she struggled in vain. "Oh I'm sorry you don't want me to rape your ass dry?" She fell silent. "Well you should have said so," he said, stepping off of her.

And then he was around the other side of the desk, his cock nudging at her lips. "I'm going to let you suck my cock now, slut. Suck it nicely like I'm your boyfriend and it's my birthday--and no teeth or else you'll regret it," he said, squeezing her cheeks together with one hand while placing the other on her neck suggestively. He tugged the panties out of her mouth. "And no more screaming please; we don't want to disrupt the office, now do we?"

She let her jaw go slack, allowing his cock to part her lips and enter her mouth. As well as her drunken tongue could remember, she gave her most performative, crowd-pleasing head, slurping and sucking, tongue swirling around the pulsing head of his cock while he moaned softly. She let saliva collect in her mouth and spill out, and soon there were rivulets running down her chin, sliding down her neck onto her tits. Nice and sloppy, just like disgusting men like it, she thought, hoping to send him over the edge. His moaning told her she was on the right track.

But his approval was short-lived. Smack went his hand across her face. "Come on, cunt--I'm your boyfriend and it's my birthday: throat it."

Mechanically, she obliged, bobbing her head up and down on his cock, taking him down until she gagged, a little further each time. When her nose finally touched his abdomen, he grunted his approval and removed his cock, thick strands of saliva connecting him to her. "Shit, you're good. Gonna make me cum too quick."

He stuffed the red panties back into her mouth, and then he was back at her butt, the engorged head of his cock pressing into her asshole. This time he did not relent when she resisted. "No more whining now--it's nice and lubed up for you."

She whimpered as he forced himself deeper--quietly though, mindful of his warning, his hand reaching around her neck prompting her recollection. He pulled her hair, forcing her head back so her view was of the ceiling. He leaned over her, staring down into her eyes. And then as he'd done before, he forced the last five inches of his cock inside her without warning, making her gasp involuntarily like she'd fallen into icy water.

At first the pain was terrible, even cross-eyed drunk, but it subsided rapidly, and in its place she felt something like pleasure. Well, not pleasure--satisfaction maybe, the satisfaction of being useful. She spat out the panties. "Yes, good, yeah" she mumbled.

And then a gust of clarity broke through her intoxication and her situation came into focus: she's still at the final-round partner interview, and he's reaming her ass with his huge cock, his balls slapping against her pussy, and she's pretty sure this is rape. And then it's gone and all she can say is, "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."

Somehow she found herself on her knees, mouth open, tongue out, him standing over her stroking his cock. She registered his hand coming to her face and flinched, but he only touched her cheek gently. "You're are a pretty girl, aren't you," he said. She later saw a photo from this moment, and "pretty" is not the adjective she would've used; her face is almost unrecognizable, eyeliner smudged around her eyes and stained down her cheeks, smears of lipstick around her mouth, rouge washed away and replaced with a woman's well-fucked natural flush and a vacant drunk smile plastered across her face.

He got his balls into her mouth, and she suckled at them blankly. His pace quickened. "Tongue out," he breathed. He pulled back her head as he came, shooting spurt after spurt across her face and on her tongue, and for the last weak spurts her he stuffed his cock to back of her mouth, letting her throat milk the last few drops.

He stopped her as she reached to wipe his cum from her face. "Leave it." He pulled a thin stack of papers from the top drawer of his desk and slapped them on the desktop. "It's very important you fill out your intake paperwork first. Show me you can prioritize."

As Lena was stumbling through the lobby on her way out, the receptionist called, "Congratulations, it sounds like it went well."

"Mm," Lena mumbled, her mind replaying the image of the woman's bare pussy, and then, still functional enough to solve a two-piece puzzle, the scent of those red silk panties.

"Mint?" the blonde called after her.