Held Accountable Pt. 01

All through the hotel lobby, Miranda felt the eyes of every man in the building staring at her as she walked past. And it was no wonder. Her massive tits were practically falling out of the front of the red dress as she crossed the lobby floor. Her enormous breasts bounced and jiggled as she strode across the marble floor in the tall, 5 inch stiletto heels. She vowed to herself that she would never again wear this bra. At least, not with a low cut dress.

The impending reality of the situation began to seep in on the elevator ride up to the room. This expensive hotel was certainly a major step up from the back of the van. "How can that little prick afford this," she thought to herself, as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. She was going to have to fuck "Skeevy" and his friends again to get out of this. The thought nauseated her. She hated having to touch those filthy boys. As she neared the hotel room door, she struggled to come up with a plan to get those pictures and avoid going to jail. She tapped softly on the door, hoping deep in her heart that no one was there and that this was just a sick joke.

She had no sooner rapped once, very softly, than the door jerked wide open. Miranda's mouth flew open and her heart stopped. Blood instantly rushed to her face and she was sure her color was equal to that of her bright, red dress. There, standing in the doorway of the hotel room, looking down at her was her boss, Rex Cantore.

"Well, I'll be damned. The lying little weasel was telling the truth," he snorted, in almost as much astonishment as Miranda. "He told me that he and his pals were fucking you and I thought he was full of shit. That is, of course, until he showed me those pictures. And now I find out that you're even fucking a minor, to boot!! Well, Mrs. Reston, looks like you've got those lovely tits in a real bind this time. Come in! Come in and let's talk about this."

She stepped into the room and then froze in terror. There in the room were five of the senior executives of the company. These were all men who over the last seventeen years had hit on her constantly at work. Now, in suits and ties, cocktail glasses in hand, they all looked at Miranda and lifted their glasses in a mock toast. And there was Dave DeLuca, the primary owner of the company and one of the biggest creeps she had ever met.

She turned and started out the door. She heard Rex behind her.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. The cops will be on your doorstep before you get home. I'll see to that. Look, Miranda, come in, have a drink and let's see what we can work out. Hell, I mean, surely we can come up with some solution. And don't worry about "Skeevy." Hell, I've got so much on that little bastard, that if he gives you any more trouble, he'll end up in a cement cornerstone of one of our new buildings. You're our lawyer. I can tell you that in safety, right?"

The room filled with laughter.

"Why don't you sit down and let's talk," Rex said smiling and patting a corner of the king sized bed. All of the men settled in their chairs around the room as Miranda perched uncomfortably on the edge of the bed.

"You see, Miranda, there's this thing about you fucking a minor. Very bad for you and for the company, if it gets out. And then, two days ago, I asked you to sign an environmental affidavit for the Ringland project. Turns out you signed more than that. Somewhere, somehow, you signed a cash voucher from the company. A check for $200,000, made out to you and signed by you. That's fraud. The money is even sitting in your bank account right now. Guess you were distracted when you signed it. Probably this whole "Skeevy" business. Well, that's theft, or fraud. Whatever you lawyers call it. So, now your husband and your teenage girls will really have some shame and humiliation to deal with. And you'll be disbarred. Oh, and that's not to mention this other guy you're fucking - uh, what his name? Nick? Very tough on your twin teenage girls, that."

By now, tears were streaming down Miranda's face as she sat on the edge of the bed, sobbing and listening to Rex in disbelief.

"I didn't steal anything ..." she shrieked.

"But you did. Your signature's on it and I've even found a person at the bank that will swear she helped you make the deposit," Rex said.

Yes, she had been distracted at work these last few days. And, yes, she probably did sign things she didn't even read. Her mind reeled. Theft? Sex crimes? How could she get out of this hell? How could she avoid the shame and suffering that waited ahead for her husband and her daughters?

She couldn't speak, she couldn't think, she could barely catch her breath. A crystal tumbler appeared in front of her, offered by one of the men.

Everyone in the room froze as the real power in the room stepped up. Rex was a mere lackey in Dave DeLuca's company.

"Whiskey. Drink it. And listen to what we have to say," Dave DeLuca said calmly, stepping in and taking over the conversation. Miranda turned the crystal tumbler up and drained the glass in one swallow. Another man handed her his handkerchief and she mopped her eyes and nose.

Dave continued. "Here's what we're suggesting. You keep your job. The stuff about your lover, you fucking the kid, the money... all that stuff never leaves this room. You can even keep the $200,000. Hell, use it to buy yourself a new wardrobe. Something a little spicier for the office."

"And in return?" Miranda asked suspiciously, but fully knowing what she was about to hear.

"In return, we get to enjoy the pleasure of your company, whenever we choose," Dave DeLuca said. "It's that simple."

"So, I'm to be the company whore instead of the company lawyer, is that ...?" Miranda asked.

"Miranda," Dave DeLuca interrupted, a scolding tone in his voice. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pushed 9-1- and then paused. "It's either yes or no, Miranda. If it's no, I push one more button and the police show up here and you're on tomorrow's front page of the newspaper. If it's yes, well all take our clothes off and have a good time."

Miranda sat quietly for a moment, dabbing at her runny nose with the handkerchief. "How long?" she said.

"About ten inches," Rex interjected said and the room again erupted with laughter.

"I mean for how long..." she said angrily.

"I know what you meant," Rex said, interrupting her. "Oh, let's say six months. Starting tonight. You've been a legal pain in our ass for seventeen years. First, because I wanted to fuck you, then and later because I couldn't get rid of you. You would have sued our ass. But it turns out you're a damn good lawyer and we want you to stay. So now, you do whatever we want, or you go to jail in disgrace. That's your choice."

After several minutes of silence, Miranda held out the empty tumbler and softly said, "Drink."

She drained the newly filled glass, sat the tumbler on the floor and stood. Looking defiantly at all of the seated men, she slowly reached behind her and pulled down the zipper on the tight red dress. The clingy red fabric fell in a pool around her ankles as she stared at the men.

"Well," she said. "This is what you been waiting seventeen years to see. I hope you like it."

She looked at every man in the room as she stood there, her skimpy lace bra pressing out her enormous breasts directly toward the seated men, her legs trembling with fear. She wasn't sure where this was going to lead, but she was sure it had to be better than being disbarred, in professional ruin and being sent to prison. Slowly, Miranda reached behind her and unhooked the delicate lace bra strap.

"So, do we know who goes first?" she said, as the sheer lace cups tumbled to the floor. The sound of six men simultaneously inhaling filled the room, followed by a dead silence as Miranda's magnificent round breasts were now fully exposed. Her dark brown nipples jutted out, erect and hard, pointing defiantly at the men.

Then, suddenly the entire room came to life, the men rushing around, tearing away at their suit coats and ties.

Soon everyone in the room was naked and Miranda was spread out on her back on the large bed. One man was smoothly pumping his cock between her wide splayed legs. Another was on his knees at the top of the bed, his rigid cock plunging deep into Miranda's mouth. One of her hands was wrapped around yet another man's throbbing prick as she smoothly stroked the man's shaft. Unknown hands gently rolled her erect nipples as a hungry mouth would sporadically descend and lock on to her sensitive mounds.

Miranda felt herself overwhelmed by the six man gangbang. Fingers and mouths were all over her, pulling, licking and caressing every inch of her body. She sucked hard on the cock in her mouth, hoping the man would come, leave her alone and give up for the night. But then it hit her. This night would never be over with. She was going to be the company fuck toy for as long as these men wanted her. And there was no way out, short of disgrace and prison. Suddenly, her mind was jolted back to the present. The man whose cock was buried deep in her cunt was now filling her hole with his hot juices, grunting, pounding and pumping madly to empty every drop into her.

"Ummmmmmm," she groaned without realizing it. Then she caught herself. Had she groaned as a reflex action to his orgasm or had she actually felt pleasure by it? "Mustn't," she thought to herself. "Mustn't give the bastards any satisfaction with this." The instant she had completed that thought, her throat and mouth were awash in hot, milky liquid. She swallowed hard, hoping, but unable to control the spewing goo. The cum flooded out of her mouth and ran down both sides of her face.

"Aaaaaahhhhhh," she said, gasping for air. But no sooner had she swallowed again, than another engorged cock was stuffed down her throat and the rhythmic pumping began again. Another man crawled between her legs, positioned his glistening cock hard against her cunt and slammed his stiff meat into her.

"Mmmmuuhh," she grunted, as the man between her legs began pumping at long, slow strokes. He was clearly going to be there awhile, she thought to herself, noting the look of enjoyment on his face. It was Herb Green, the head of Accounting and Finance, who had hit on her so many times in the last seventeen years that she had stopped counting.

Soon, Miranda had lost track of the number of times she had been fucked. Her slim body was glistening with sweat and her blond hair was matted with a mixture of perspiration and cum. She was sure at least all of the six men had come once, and most multiple times. They must have all taken erection pill, she thought to herself. And she was confident that they would have to let her go any minute now. She gazed over the back of the grunting man settled between her splayed legs. He was pounding his prick deep into her hole, she saw only men with raging erections, stroking their members and awaiting yet another turn.

"Roll her over," Dave DeLuca demanded. "Let's see if this hot little bitch likes it from behind."

"Oooowwwwww," Miranda yelped, as a thick cock forced its way into her upturned cunt moments later. She couldn't see which man was so huge but she gasped again as the massive tool drove deep into her dripping slit.

"Ahhhhhhhh," she moaned as the man began to set a strong pounding rhythm with his strokes. His huge cock slid easily in an out of her swollen vaginal lips as she twisted her head from one side to the other.

She was going to come and she knew it. The bastard was bringing her to an orgasm. As much as she didn't want to, she could feel it coming.

Her vaginal muscles clenched. Suddenly the pounding stopped. Miranda's hips continued to grind in the air, seeking the friction she craved.

"Stop it," the man called out. "You don't cum when YOU want to cum. You cum when we let you. And you can't now."

The pounding resumed against her swollen cunt, so wet with juices. Miranda felt her inner thighs start to tremble. She knew that a gut wrenching orgasm was inevitable. What would they do to her then? The man snorted and pulled his huge erection from inside her.

"Turn over," he commanded, grabbing her shoulders roughly. "Get up."

Slowly she stood up. God, what more could they do to her, she thought?

"We're only going to the private company conference room next door for right now," said the man with the large cock, who had turned out to be Dave DeLuca. "There'll be lots of different locations for fun in the weeks to come."

"Months to come," Herb Green eagerly grinned. As if by agreement, all the men began to dress. Miranda reached for her clothes.

"Not so fast," said Rex." You stay naked for a little while. We're going to dress and watch the show and then go home."

Watch the show? What show? What were they talking about? The tiny woman was hoisted to her feet, cum dripping down her legs, and roughly pushed into the large adjoining hotel conference room.

"Get up on the table," said Rex, pointing to the large conference table in the room. He lifted her onto the cold mahogany slab. It was chilly to her raw, irritated, open pussy. The men pulled back chairs, and now fully dressed, sat around the table looking at her.

"Lie down, slut," piped up Herb. Rex shot him a glare. "Lie down and bend your knees," Rex said.

Miranda, shivering, lay on her back with her knees bent.

"Open your legs," said Rex, pushing apart her knees until she lay there like a frog getting ready to be dissected.

"If you want to cum so bad, let us see you," said Rex.

Miranda's face turned as hot as her cunt. "Wh-what do you mean?" she asked.

"Don't play stupid," said Dave DeLuca. "We're in a hurry now. And we're going to be nice and let you cum this time."

"You want me to do it to myself?" Miranda said, more of a statement than a question. As all the men sat there grinning and chuckling, Miranda began to rub her throbbing vaginal lips. She was so full of semen that it was hard for her to get the friction needed on her clit, so she rubbed harder. And faster.

"Look at her go!" Herb giggled. "Oh, by the way, Ms. Sexual Harassment, you're on video!"

Miranda gasped and stopped rubbing herself. "Keep going," Dave DeLuca barked roughly. Miranda closed her eyes. Minutes felt like hours until finally she knew the orgasm could be held back no longer. Her hips began to buck.

"Ahhh, Ahhh, Ahhh" she grunted, wildly pumping her hips as she started to erupt.

"Ask us if we will let you cum," said Rex, in a contemptuous voice. "And say please."

"Pl, pl ... please can I cum now?" Miranda's throaty voice shook as a spasm began. She writhed and gasped as spasm after spasm wracked her helpless body. A large spray erupted from her swollen cunt and covered the mahogany table. After it was over, the men were grinning and laughing. "We didn't say yes!" said Herb.

"Well, I'm late going home," said Rex after conferring with Dave, "So we won't punish you 'till next time. But don't ever do that again."

Miranda lay humiliated on the table. There was more wetness than she could ever remember. She realized that the orgasm was so powerful and she had certainly squirted more than any other orgasm in her life. Had she, somehow, secretly enjoyed the humiliation, she wondered?

"Get dressed and wipe that mess off of the table. You can go home now. Till next time," said Rex.

"When is the next time?" Miranda asked. She received the answer she most dreaded.

"Whenever we say," laughed Dave DeLuca. The two men were like some two-headed monster she thought. Two heads but one evil mind and spirit between them.

"Maybe tomorrow, maybe in two days or two weeks. You must be available at all times. I'll send you a copy of your new dress code on Monday," Dave said.

The men left the rooms, laughing together. Miranda dressed and wiped herself clean. Crying now, she cleaned the mahogany table of all the telltale wetness.

Chapter 4

Monday morning came all too soon and Miranda arrived at her office with dread and fear in her heart. To avoid being disbarred as a lawyer, going to jail and God knows what public and family humiliation, she had agreed to become the company fuck toy for some of the male executives. She was now going to be forced to do whatever Rex Cantore and Dave DeLuca wanted her to do. She couldn't imagine anything more degrading than the scene a few nights ago at the hotel where she was fucked by all of the company Directors and then forced to masturbate herself to orgasm before their eyes.

As she walked into her office, a wave of nausea crashed over her. There, on her desk, was a sealed manila envelope with Dave's handwriting on it.

"Just a little keepsake from the other night," the note read. Miranda dumped the contents of the envelope out. A single DVD disc fell onto her desk along with a note. She slipped the disc into her computer and immediately a movie popped up on her computer screen. And she gasped as she saw herself on the screen.

There she was, naked, screaming and moaning as she masturbated, her legs splayed wide apart, lying on the mahogany conference room table in the hotel. Globs of milky semen were running out of her red, swollen cunt and pouring onto the table. She was rubbing her clit like a woman possessed, frantically driving herself to orgasm.

Miranda hit the pause button. On the screen, her image was frozen, her hand partially stuffed into her cunt. Her face was wild, a captured moment of pure lust. Her facial features were twisted and distorted with desire. She would never in her wildest dreams have imagined herself capable of such unleashed lust.

Her eyes drifted back to the note on the desk. She continued reading.

"To Our Slut Lawyer,

Your office dress code is as follows: As our company lawyer, we expect you to dress to impress our clients. Your blouses should all be sexy. Dresses should be low cut and well above the knee. Skirts must be very short. Bras, if you choose to wear them, should be half cups so your nipples can stick out. Panties are optional but must always be sexy in the workplace. No pantyhose. You may wear stockings and a garterbelt. All shoes must have at least 4 inch heels."

The note continued.

"Take the rest of the day off to revise you work wardrobe. You will be expected to arrive tomorrow dressed appropriately for work."

Miranda let out a long sigh. She picked up her purse and walked out of the office. For the remainder of the day, she scoured the city looking for clothes to wear to work to fit her new "dress code". All of the shops she visited were filled with whores or teenagers. "God," she thought, "Please don't let me run into my teenage girls here." Seeing her eighteen year old twin daughters in a whore store would be tough for any of them to explain.

The next morning, Miranda Reston glared at herself in her bedroom dressing mirror. The girls had gone to school and Stan, her husband, was already off to work.

"Unbefuckinglievable!!!" she said aloud. "I look like the sleaziest whore in the world."

Miranda was starring at her breasts. Round and very firm DD cups, her breasts were always abnormally large in proportion to her petite, slender frame. But now it was outrageous. "I look grotesque," the tiny woman shouted to the mirror. The pink bra she wore pushed her breasts straight up and straight out, making them look enormous. The bra had only half cups, and her breasts sat up perched on a pink shelf, her jutting nipples totally exposed.

The white sheer blouse did nothing to hide her features. If anything, it only added emphasis as her hard nipples pushed against the flimsy fabric.

"This is ridiculous!" she growled. "I have to give an environmental deposition today. And I'm wearing this!" She looked down at the short black mini skirt that she was wearing. It barely covered her crotch and God forbid that she should have to sit down. She was wearing some long black stockings that came all the way up to the top of her legs and helped a little. At least she wasn't totally naked, she thought to herself. She grabbed a jacket and walked carefully out of the room, balanced on tall, five inch stiletto heels.