Malignity of Stone Ch. 06

I took his spunk, load after load, the ultimate gesture of submission -- a lesbian, turning herself over to be a cum receptacle for men. I knew Nick loved it. I could see the supreme masculine affirmation in his eyes while he stared into my own.

I knew he saw only feminine meekness in them.

We stayed like that for a while afterwards. I obediently polished and licked his cock with my tongue, while his rough, wiry hands ran through my hair.

"You're never going to deny me again," he said, in an oddly sweet tone, as I suckled. "Isn't that right, honey?"

I momentarily ceased my sucking to stare at him with big, submissive eyes. Here he was, this jock I nominally despised, but whose mastery over me was undeniable. He'd broken me. Was that what men did to girls, all the world over? Maybe it was. Maybe it was always going to end this way, with me underneath Burns... and him.

"Never again," I said, sealing my fate forever. "Sir."

***

Cathy

I applied the lipstick, with the deliberate care of a surgeon in the operating room. It had to be perfect.

I had to be perfect.

I looked at my own reflection in the mirror, and a stranger stared back.

The woman I looked like was not the real me. She looked ready for a hot date -- a considerably male centric date, at that -- rather than for work as a teacher. My foundation and eyeliner, the fancy styling of my hair, the fire-engine-red lipstick that seemed to shout cocksucker, all these cultural signifiers would have been completely alien to me a short time ago.

I wanted to be a professional woman. I wanted my teaching to mean something, to change the lives of young people, to impart in them the importance of inclusiveness, feminism, and change. Instead, here I was, checking that my frilly skirt reached the mandated length and not one inch further down, that the pantyhose had no rips of any kind, that my nipples were showing through my blouse.

I knew I had failed every single one of the tasks Burns set before me that morning. I couldn't take dictation from Celeste. I brought coffee to my math-teaching colleague Simon, only to discover he's holidaying in the Appalachians. I spent all day tracking down a student's parents, only to find out said student had switched school on the first week of the semester.

And that was why, now, I needed to be perfect. An office floozy and sex doll, whose every step had to be measured and calculated for male pleasure and approval.

I blinked slowly in the mirror, taking in the way in which my big, scared eyes made me look like a slut.

I might not be a feminist or even a teacher anymore, but I would not give Burns grounds to demote me even further. This was where it stopped. This, and no more. I had to stop dwelling on how far I'd fallen, and focus on not falling any further. On not fucking up again.

I exhaled slowly, willing the tension to leave my body. Then, I forced myself to leave the bathroom, and marched to Burns' office -- or did the best impression of a march I could, while teetering on the high heels he enforced.

As always, the boss' office was a constant sensory assault. It was a... manly haze of scents. Leather, sweat, smoke, old paper. More than an office, this was a veritable man-cave, a seat of power, a place that was, in a way, all Burns. From the mahogany desk to the leather chairs to the cigar butts, everything was indisputably his.

That included me, I considered gloomily, but with a degree of fatalism, too. The female employee he'd resoundly put back in her place.

He was an orderly man. The papers on his desk were always stuck just-so. The books on the shelves were arranged in alphabetical order. And my clothing... well, it made only sense that I was subjected to the same rules as his other possessions.

Kept in order. Under control. Little more than furniture for his office.

"Clothing inspection," Burns said at last, standing up from his chair. Absurdly, I was grateful to him -- sometimes he kept me waiting for ages, and I would have to keep presenting, until he decided to indulge my servility.

"Thank you Sir," I immediately said as he rounded the desk to approach me. I didn't mutter it under my breath, not this time. I said it loud and clear, looking down in deference, but still proud of his attentions.

I had certainly come a long way, since he first broke me in. In a way, so had he. I could remember a time when he performed these clothing inspections sitting down. Now, though...

Now, he drew close to me. His man-sweat filled my nostrils, and his ragged breathing echoed against my ears, as he pressed himself closer to me.

His big, firm hands grasped the back of my thighs with such possessive authority that I shivered. It made me give a whole new meaning to the concept of being manhandled. After so many sessions spent on my knees before him, or bent over his desk, I immediately associated this predatory, authoritarian grasp that brooked no arguments with arousal.

I kept my composure, in spite of my growing excitement, as his hands ran down my nyloned legs, then up my sides, flicking my erect nipples through the blouse. His left hand found my throat, and gently cradled it in its grasp, while the right pushed past my slutty lips. With a defeated moan, I began to suckle at his fingers like my life depended on it.

Like I was starring in a crappy porn shoot, written and shot exclusively with the male gaze in mind.

"You pass," Burns told me with a final slap against my rear, which made me squeal like a schoolgirl. I looked at him all doe-eyed, pouting my lips. I... I wasn't even sure why, but on some level, I wanted him to take me for his pleasure, then and there. If this truly was what my job depended on, then I wanted to perform it to the best of my abilities.

I watched closely, waiting for Burns to sit back down in his chair with a sigh, before I pivoted seductively on my heels. "Should I get on my knees, Sir?"

"Huh?" Burns said, as if lost in thought. "No, thank you Cathy, that won't be necessary, you can head out. Please send Cindy in, I have half a mind to give her a ride before I close shop."

Absurdly, the words hurt. They struck at the very foundations of my confidence, and sent a bout of anxiety racing through me. How could I keep this job if I didn't... if Burns wouldn't even...

Stupidly, I opened and closed my mouth multiple times. Then, I gathered my wits.

"Are you sure that will be all, Sir?"

Burns arched an eyebrow, studying me. A part of me felt he was plainly manipulating me, but of course I had no margins left to challenge his will in any way -- my entire professional career depended on this man, and his word was law. Had been, since the very first setback with the stone.

"Not today, Cathy," he said, almost apologetically. But then, he smiled. "Tell you what, though. You could stand by the door, and listen. I'm sure you might learn something."

I gaped at him in outrage and despair, as an evil smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"After all," he said, "your sister is just a much better fuck."

***

A part of me couldn't believe what I was about to do. What I was about to offer Burns. Couldn't believe that I had every intention of finally convincing him to do something that nominally repulsed me -- that I wanted him to fuck me again, and secure my working position forever.

The other part, though?

The part that warmed with approval when I caught a reflection of my form-fitting clothes and killer body in the mirror, the part that increasingly associated Burns' manly scent and gruff manners with arousal, the part that recognised the erotic power of subordination?

That part of me was more than ready to go along with this.

I had pulled all the stops. Went up from three inch heels to five, chose my shortest skirt, unbuttoned my blouse as far as I dared. I looked nothing like a teacher, hell, nothing like a secretary either. I was a parody of a bad office porn shoot. An object of pure, unadulterated male fantasy.

But if that was my job description, then work ethic demanded that I performed it to the best of my ability.

Right?

I sighed, faltering, my hand toying with the handle to Burns' office door. It felt like the wires inside my own head were hopelessly crossed. I could barely even remember... I couldn't follow the logical chain of sequential thoughts towards any other conclusion.

I had to be Burns' model employee.

I hated myself for it. I hated my willingness to stoop to every low if it meant I could keep my job. I had long since swallowed any residue of dignity together with Burns' cum, and then thanked him for the privilege. He really had destroyed me.

Still, there was no room for doubt. I had to see this through. To push on forward. And so with a last intake of breath, I opened the door, and entered his office for yet another morning inspection to start my new workday.

"Good morning, Sir," I said docilely, waiting for him to acknowledge him. It was a good wait, in its own way. Humbling.

He gave a grunt, but when he looked up, there was no mistaking the sparkle of attention, curiosity, and greed in his eyes. A smile played across my lips at that. He wouldn't prefer Cindy to me, not this time.

I matched my presentation with enthusiasm. As he neared me for my inspection, I stepped towards him. When his hands cupped my thighs and my butt, I leaned into them, and when he squeezed softly, I bit my lower lip, in a display of sexual tension that soon had his pants bulge.

I was wanton. Open. Available.

Submissive.

I knew women found they could exert control over their chosen targets by seducing them, but this wasn't what was happening here. I could see the glimmer in Burns' eyes. Yes, he was tempted. Yes, he wanted more.

But I also knew that he'd shaped me, sculpted me, trained me to behave like this. I couldn't quite grasp what angle he'd worked exactly, but I could see that I was unfolding before him, defenseless, manipulated, played like a fiddle.

As Burns' hand gripped my hair and pulled, forcing me to look up at him with big scared eyes, I felt like the horse, coming under the rider's control.

Brought to heel, and domesticated.

"Alright, girl," he said, and I hated that I found his condescending tone sexy now. "Get on the desk."

I didn't get anywhere -- he positioned me himself, one hand clutching at my hair and the other resting possessively from my rear. I yelped in surprise at his strength, as he folded me in two beneath him like it was nothing. I was just a plaything in his hands, and in spite of myself, it made my heart race.

This felt... good. Right. My proper place in life. And the thought alone of securing my job like this made me glow in safety and happiness.

"You want me to pass on that sweet piece of ass you call a sister?" Burns said, lowering my panties, exposing me to the air. "Well, I suppose you call her Miss Cooper these days," he said, with a slap on my behind.

I grimaced, both from the stinging, and the humiliation. "Yes, Sir," I said in half a whisper. And then... knowing that there would be no going back... I made my offer.

"Sir, I... there is one hole of mine you haven't claimed yet."

I said it in such a small voice that Burns had to hold his breath to hear it. It wasn't the voice of a professional, working woman, it was the feeble offer of a defeated girl, proclaiming her own unconditional surrender.

I had no worries about him being dry. Burns was an orderly man, and never came to work without a bottle of lube on hand -- a very thoughtful planner. I couldn't even decide if I meant that ironically or not, but as he lubed up, I got a few seconds to think about my predicament.

I briefly wondered what Richard would think if he could see me now. I'd never even allowed him more than providing me with oral sex, and here I was now, offering my anal virginity to my own boss, in exchange for not being further demoted, or even fired.

I was a worthless slut.

I screamed in surprise as I immediately felt something press against the entrance to my asshole. His cock slid into my crack, as he secured his hold on my hair even further. He adjusted himself behind me, slapping my rear again for good measure, before pushing forward.

I whimpered, as my anal ring stretched to take his cock. Why did it have to be so thick?

"I knew you'd come round to this, eventually," he said from above me, so far above me, in a gruff masculine voice that made me shiver. "Offering yourself to me. You're learning."

I gasped as he plunged deeper into me.

I bit my lip, pushing back against the pain and friction that filled me. I gritted my teeth and braced myself. This was painful, and humiliating -- but it would save my job. I just knew it, in my heart.

Burns grunted. "Tight. Maybe tightest I've had."

A part of me swooned at his words -- so demeaning, so objectifying, so... stroking to my ego, the feminine pride he was sculpting and moulding out of my independent persona. I bucked underneath him, wondering how many others girls he'd broken in like this, how many silly feminists who thought they could stand up to him, right until the moment when they found themselves bent over his desk.

I whimpered from the friction of his penetration, squirming weakly under his big, firm hands, until he bottomed out inside me. Slowly, he began riding me, back and forth, back and forth, gathering speed. The pain was coarse and raw, but with it, a subtle pleasure began to mount... and my mind began to wander in its wake.

I was bent over the desk. The ultimate form of female workplace humiliation, with my face towards the door, vulnerably exposed to anyone coming in. My own boss was having his way with me, ploughing into my ass with no regard for my wishes. I existed for his whims, and all I could do was whimper and moan and beg to not be demoted.

"That's it," he said. "Where you belong. You used to look down at me so much, you remember that? Now I'm the one looking down at you."

He was right. I'd been a haughty bitch. And now... now, his cock was splitting me in two, while I bucked helplessly underneath him.

His words made something click inside me. It was a heady mix of resignation, fatalism, and humble acceptance of my defeat. He'd turned the tables on me, and firmly put me in my place. I started to bounce back on his cock, riding, ignoring my discomfort.

"Good girl," he said, and I clenched my ass around his dick in response. His words went straight to my pussy. That's what I was, after all. A good girl. A worthless slut. A plaything at the beck and call of men.

My ass was basically gripping his dick at this point. I burned with shame, arousal, and defeat. The humiliation was getting me going, a lot more than the physical stuff -- but there was no doubting his physical mastery of my body. And it did have an effect on me.

My ass was milking his cock, looking for his seed.

The pain from the friction slowly morphed into heat, a lancing fire that went right to my cunt. I barely had time to realise what was happening -- all of a sudden, it was over me. A powerful, devastating orgasm, rippling outwards until my muscles were quivering under the strain. I didn't even try to hold back the moans that came out of my mouth, as Burns rammed into me over and over again.

"Enjoy that, you little gender traitor," he said, panting and grunting. "Cum your brains out for me. Feel your dignity leak out of you with your pussy cream. That's it. Good girl."

He plunged inside me to the hilt as he said that, and my eyes rolled back into my skull, his words still ringing through my ears.

And then, before I knew it, he'd slid out of me. He hadn't cum, not yet, but I barely had the cognizance to fully process this. I was spent, broken, draped over the desk like a piece of folded cloth.

Burns, however, wasn't done with me, and once more I found myself marvelling at his impressive stamina. He flipped me over with humiliating ease, then dragged me down to the floor. All of a sudden, I found myself kneeling before his massive presence.

A familiar position by now.

I opened my mouth almost by reflex, before I realized what was about to happen. It was the sour scent that hit me first, the musky tone that invaded my nostrils just as his cock pushed past my lips. I looked up at him in horror, but before I could move, his hands gripped my head, freezing me in place.

He leered down at me.

"Clean it, slut," he said. "And get me off."

"Uggghhh," I moand, and "eeek," and "ghhaakkk," but it was no use. Burns was leveraging his grip on my head to facefuck me. I shuddered at the taste and the implications -- I was cleaning my own asshole off his dick.

This was so much worse than just being a cocksucker. He was right, I was cleaning him. I quivered and tried to resign myself to my fate, relaxing into his hands. He moved my head up and down the length of his cock, using my lips like a rag to polish it, the head plunging over and over at the entrance to my throat.

"You're a worthless slut!" he shouted, thrusting forward, assaulting my mouth with his cock like it was a pussy for him to use. I blinked, looking up at his blurry figure through tear-filled eyes, as he subdued my throat and conquered my independence forever.

When the ropes of his cum hit the back of my throat, one after the other, I knew he was marking me for good. That I was his property, and his territory, and his secretary.

And his good girl.

I collapsed back onto the floor, breathing in, recovering from the absolute devastation, from the mind-shattering mix of humiliation and pleasure that had just rocked my very foundations as a person.

My abasement was now complete. But at least, I thought to myself, nothing else could possibly threaten my position at school, as Burns' loyal sex pet of a secretary.

Nothing.

***

Cindy

I met my sister in the parking lot. I'd gotten here first -- doubtlessly while she serviced Burns in some way or other -- and couldn't wait to drive us both back home. My humiliation with Nick still smarted, and I felt like the worst lesbian of all time, ever. At least back at home I could unwind a little by using Cathy as my personal punching bag.

For a brief moment, though, we shared a kind of understanding with one another. A sort of, how has your day been moment. Another bizarre day in our bizarre lives, in this school where nothing works the way it's supposed to.

I decided to verbalize the feeling before we got in the car.

"How was your day, Cathy?"

"It was... trying, Miss Cooper," she said, slipping naturally into slavish deference towards me. "But I feel like I accomplished what I wanted."

It was hard to take her seriously, I considered with an arched eyebrow. She looked... out of sorts. Hair disheveled, eyes downcast, clothes a bit rumpled, and precisely zero self-confidence. Not just a freshly fucked girl, but one that's been broken in like a horse. Reminded that, to the patriarchy, it didn't truly matter what she wanted -- it would stake a claim on her anyway.

In other words, she looked just like me.

And yet, I clearly rescued my girlfriend role with Nick, and she must have shored up her professional position as Burns' office floozy. So in a way, I assumed we did both get what we wanted. Right?

I nodded in affirmation, and made to get in the car, when the heavy-set sound of boots made me turn my head.

It was all I could do to not snarl, at the sight of Irene Cain making her way towards us in the deserted parking lot.

Cathy, of course, was her usual, spineless self.

"Miss Cain," she said, respectfully, while I bristled besides her.

Irene stepped so close, she was almost in our personal space, and said nothing. Her silence was becoming unnerving, much like the shit-eating grin she had on her face. She fished her phone out of her pocket, holding it theatrically in the air before us. An audio file was on the main screen, and Irene pressed play.