Office Whore Ch. 02

I wear my best lingerie to work the next morning, on the off-chance that yesterday's events repeat themselves. Might as well be dressed for the occasion. When it comes to John, who flies his family to St. Tropez (or somewhere equally luxurious, can't remember now), regular nightwear just won't do. So I'm wearing this lacy black Agent Provocateur number. Simply wearing it makes me feel horny.

On second thought, this was probably a horrible idea. I'm somewhat sleep deprived, staying up late last night bringing myself to orgasms, replaying the scene in John's office over and over again, adding on extra scenes of what happened after. But although I'm somewhat red-eyed, I can still feel the buzz of excitement, that feeling of anticipation you get before a big event.

I walk to the water cooler to get a drink. I might be turning a little paranoid, but I feel like everyone's eyes are following me to the cooler. Like they know what I did last night. What a dirty, dirty little slut you are, Lana, they're probably thinking. Oh, god. I should probably stop this because I can already feel myself getting a little damp.

I drink my water and try to think about the most boring thing possible, like the accounts I have to work on (which, to be honest, is what I should be thinking about). I return to my desk and spend the next hour or so with my head down, hard at work.

I'm finally getting into my work stride when I hear a voice.

"John wants to see you."

I look up, and it's Tiffany, glaring at me as usual. What is it with this girl? Why does she hate me so much?

I'm focusing on her frown and how menacing she looks, but I suddenly process what she actually said.

"He wants to see me?" I ask.

"What did I just say?" she repeats, even more menacingly. I take that as a yes, and hop to my feet. I think I'm going to start calling Tiffany the 'Dragon Lady' because she scares me so much.

I pace the few feet from my door to John's and knock. A few seconds, and I hear his voice.

"Enter."

I open the door, taking a deep breath, steadying myself as I enter. Does he want me for business...or for "business"?

John's sitting at his desk. The blinds are already closed, and the room is dim. I briefly catch John licking his lower lip, or I might have imagined that. I'm not too sure.

"Hello, Lana," he says, in that rich baritone voice. "How are you today?"

"Great, thanks," I smile, walking towards his desk.

"Nuh-uh," says John, looking stern and wagging his finger. "Did I tell you to walk over here?"

"S—sorry," I whimper, and retreat back. I'm so confused.

"Lana," says John. "Would you like to continue what we started yesterday?"

He has that look on his face again. THAT look. My heart rate's accelerating again. I nod yes.

"Excellent," he says, running his fingers through his hair. "That means you'll do as I tell you to. Is that understood?"

I nod. My pussy is tingling already. I'm so ready for this.

"Do you have any questions?" he asks, finally.

I do. Well, I probably have a hundred, starting from Why me?, to a range of other things, but I don't ask. I just want to do whatever it is he wants me to do. So instead, I say "No."

"Great," he says, taking a deep breath, and closing his eyes. I'm almost trembling with anticipation, but I try to keep cool on the outside.

"Please take your top off, leaving only your bra, and tell me when you're done" he says, his eyes still closed.

"Alright," I almost whisper. I quickly slide off my jacket and let it fall to the floor. Then I unbutton my blouse. John still has his eyes closed, so I try not to keep him waiting. After that's off, I'm standing there in my pencil skirt, heels and my Agent Provocateur bra. It's black and lace, but sheer so you can see through it. My nipples are hard and their outline is clearly visible.

"Done," I say, and John opens his eyes. In the dark, I can just barely see his eyes widening at the sight before him. But he tries to play it off.

"Now, take your shoes off," he says with a smirk. I can almost feel the bulge developing in his trousers. I take off my heels and stand on the carpeted floor, about two inches shorter.

"Now get on your hands and knees, and crawl to me. Slowly."

I do as he asks, getting down on my hands and knees, never once breaking eye contact. If this was any other man, any of my ex-boyfriends, this would feel out of place and awkward. But doing this with John I feel powerful, sexy. Right where I'm supposed to be.

Christ, I'm so horny now, I must be dripping wet. I want to check so badly. But I can't, I must follow orders.

As I'm crawling, John gets out of his chair and walks around his desk. He leans on it, running his hand over his mouth. Now I know he's turned on because I can see his bulge. I direct my gaze at it. As I do, I can almost see it getting bigger.

When I reach him I stop, and lean back, my ass resting comfortably on my stockinged feet. I look at him expectantly.

He's slowly unzipping his trousers...

"Now I want you to say, 'How can I be of service, Mr. Donner?'"

I look up at him and a giggle escapes my mouth. But he looks stern. "How can I service you today, Mr. Donner?" I ask, changing his line up a little bit. He likes this.

"You can start here," he says, taking his cock out from his trousers, letting it dangle in front of me. I take this as a sign and lean forward, taking it in my hand and then placing it in my mouth.

"Ohh," John quietly moans, his mouth making an O-shape. I can tell the way I swirl my tongue around his cock is driving him crazy because his breathing gets ragged.

I gently lick my way around, milking the tip with extra tenderness. I move my hand up and down the base as well, to compliment my tongue movements. I could stroke him with both hands, one fist on top of the other, but I'm afraid it'll bring him over the edge.

Then suddenly, as if I've hit a nerve or something, he pushes me away. "I'm sorry," he says hurriedly, and motions for me to get up.

Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt him?

But I'm mistaken. He's undoing his belt and pulling his trousers down to his knees.

"I need—to have you—right now," he pants, and as I stand up facing him, grabs my hips.

"Oh!" I can only exclaim as he pulls my pencil skirt to the floor. I step out of it and toss it away. Things are moving so fast I can barely comprehend. He spins me around and bends me over his desk.

He pulls my panties down. I can feel how wet they are as he pulls the fabric away from my pussy. He helps me step out of them, and then spreads my legs apart.

I'm almost panting now from the excitement. I'm bent over the table, my arms resting squarely on it, my legs spread open.

"What a perfect pussy you have, Lana," says John, and I can feel his breath on it. I'm so glad I shaved it last night, it's now bare and gleaming and perfect. Then I feel his hot tongue inside, parting my lips as it delves deep.

"Ohhh," I let out a moan, letting him know how much I'm enjoying it. He darts his tongue around frantically, as if trying to explore my inner depths, circling around my clit.

"You're so fucking wet," he exclaims, and I can only fluster a "Yes" in response.

Then I feel him standing up behind me, his hard cock pressing lightly into my bum. Using his hand he navigates into my opening, and without another word, plunges his cock into my pussy.

I moan in short gasps as I feel his cock thrusting in and out of me. He's pumping me so hard that the entire table is shaking, and I can't help but talk out loud.

"Oooh, ohh yes, that's it..." I wonder briefly if anyone outside can hear us. Part of me doesn't want them to, but the other part, the horny little bitch, wants everyone to hear.

He thrusts a couple more times, keeping his hands firmly on my ass. I can hear his panting too, as he smacks me — hard — on the ass.

"Yes," I whine.

"You like that, Lana? You dirty little—" *SMACK*, he slaps me again. I nod yes. It's so hot how he's fucking me and spanking me at the same time. "You like that, huh?" *SMACK* "My little—" *SMACK* "office—" *SMACK* "slut!" *SMACK*

"Ooh, yes, John, yes, don't stop!" I moan uncontrollably . I've turned into a wild animal.

Suddenly, he pulls his cock out. The table stops shaking. Then,I feel my head being pulled back. John has a bunch of my hair in his fist, and his face is close to my ear.

"Don't ever call me John," he whispers, "not when we're doing this. It's Mr. Donner. Or...Master...got it?"

"Okay," I nod, "...Master." I love the sound of that. Master. Saying it aloud, I get it. It's so much more sexual than calling him by name.

"Good," he says, and releases my hair.

He grabs me by my hips, turning me around and pushing me up onto the table. "Spread your legs," he says, and I do as told. He pushes his cock inside me, thrusting it, hard. I almost wince but it feels good rather than forceful.

From this view, I can see his cock thrusting into me, and he's still wearing his work shirt and tie, which is so sexy. Beads of sweat form on his forehead, from the exertion.

"Oh," I moan, "yes, fuck me Master."

"I can't hear you," he says.

"Fuck me Master!" I scream louder, pretty sure that all of the office has heard by now. But I'm in such bliss I don't even care. John is fucking me so hard, his hands digging into my hips as he slams his cock into my pussy. My breasts have come out of my bra and are bouncing up and down. I move my hand down to my clit, fingering it, but only to feel a sharp slap on my hand.

"Did I give you permission to do that?" he says.

"Sorry, Master," I say, moving my hand away. All this time he is thrusting into me I can feel my pussy throbbing, exploding with pleasure as his hardness slides in and out.

Just as I think that he's going to come inside me, he pulls out. He gets me on my knees again, and ejaculates on my face, moaning as he does so.

When he's drained his cock completely, he pulls his trousers back up, buckling his belt. I watch him sit back down at his desk and turn on his computer, ignoring me.

I stand up, naked except for stockings and my bra. My own cum dripping down my legs and his cum on my face. I look at John, observing. He doesn't look like a man who just fucked his work colleague's brains out. In fact, he looks like he's been hard at work all this time. That makes me horny all over again.

He catches me looking, flashes a little smile at me, nods, and says, "Thank you Lana, you're dismissed." As if he had just called me over to ask my opinion on something, and nothing more.

I gather my clothes off the floor and get dressed. Lastly, I take out a tissue from my jacket pocket to wipe off the cum on my face, but John says "Nuh-uh. Don't do that."

I look at him quizzically. "Don't wipe it off," he says. "I want the whole office to see what a great slut you've been."

Is he joking? He must be joking, of course. "But I can't possibly—"

"Oh you will," says my boss. "If you'd like to continue this, of course."

I nod quickly. "Yes, I do." I think it over a bit. Surely, I could just rush to the bathroom before anyone sees?

"There's a good girl," says John, not even looking up from his work. I take this as my cue to leave.

Opening the door, I expect everyone's eyes to be on me. Oh, god, who am I kidding, they must've heard the whole thing! I can't bear to face anyone right now. Especially not Tiffany the Dragon Lady.

But nobody's looking at me when I come out. They're all busy working and pay no attention to me. I quickly slide back into my cubicle and resume working, hoping no one notices the girl with the cumstains on her face and hair.

That day at work ended up being the least productive work day of my life. I took no less than three leisurely bathroom breaks to replay what just happened, furiously masturbating each time, and nearly getting caught once.

I don't think I would have minded, either.