Ravaging Nikki Pt. 02

"No," Nikki whispered to herself.

Looking down at her phone, there was yet another text from the mysterious number. She didn't know which creep from the bar had managed to get her number, but she didn't want to talk to any of them. After what had happened that night, she never wanted to be reminded of it again. Instead, some jerk kept texting her about what a great time he'd had and how he wanted to see her again. She hadn't replied, but whoever he was, he kept texting her anyway. She ought to block the number, but simply hadn't gotten around to it. Instead she firmly ignored it, hoping the jerk would finally get the hint.

For nearly a day, she thought it finally worked.

"Ms. Richardson."

Nikki looked up to see her supervisor looming over her cubicle. A portly man she recognized from HR and a security guard stood behind him.

"Yes Mr. Jones?" Nikki looked puzzled at the men.

"Come with us Ms. Richardson," the HR man glowered.

"Is something wrong?" Nikki asked as she stood, straightening her skirt.

"Just come with us, please, Ms. Richardson," Mr. Jones repeated firmly.

Worried, Nikki followed Mr. Jones and the HR man to her supervisor's office. The security guard followed her so closely she was afraid he was going to step on her heels. Inside the office, Nikki took the seat in front of Mr. Jones' desk. The guard pulled the door shut with a solid click, cutting them off from the rest of the office. Mr. Jones took his seat, while the HR man stood over Nikki, glowering down at her.

"What's going on?" Nikki asked nervously.

"You understand, Ms. Richardson, that we can't have any kind of impropriety here," Mr. Jones said sternly. "We handle very important contracts and we simply can't have any kind of inappropriate behavior by our employees."

"Yes sir," Nikki replied, puzzled.

"Your behavior," The HR man rumbled, "is not the kind of thing we can allow."

"What?" Nikki said, shocked. "What do you mean? What am I supposed to have done?"

"We monitor social media, Ms. Richardson," the HR man loomed over her. "We've seen your... picture."

"Picture? What picture?" Nikki asked.

"Really, Ms. Richardson," Mr. Jones said, "are you going to make us show it here?"

"I really don't know what you mean." Nikki shook her head.

At a nod from the HR man, Mr. Jones turned his computer monitor to face Nikki and quickly opened a browser window to a popular photo sharing site. The picture opened.

It was a young woman, with short dark hair, kneeling on a dark, dirty pavement, against a graffitied wall. The woman was topless, her bare breasts pert, her nipples swollen. What might have been a skirt was bunched up in a narrow band around her waist, leaving her legs completely bare and spread, the dark tangle of her pubic hair clearly visible between her wet thighs. The young woman's face was upturned, her eyes half closed in a strangely wanton expression, large blobs of sticky white semen clearly visible on her cheeks, her lips and dripping down her breasts.

Nikki froze as an icy horror spread through her. It was her face. Her face, covered in cum; her bare breasts, sticky thighs and naked pussy. He'd taken a picture. The man who had ravaged her that night, in the alley behind the club. It had been him, she realized suddenly, the one texting her, the one she'd ignored. She'd ignored him and now...

"No," Nikki whispered.

"Are you saying this isn't you?" The HR man rumbled.

Nikki didn't really hear him, instead shaking her head, trying to deny the horrible picture in front of her.

"Well, I said it might not be her," Mr. Jones said genially.

"But it might," the HR man countered.

"Well, we can't make any decisions without knowing for sure," Mr. Jones smiled.

Slowly, Nikki had realized the men were talking. She felt a rush of hope and joy that Mr. Jones was defending her. She'd never thought he particularly liked or cared about his employees.

"Are you saying this isn't a picture of you," the HR man leered down at her.

"Yes..." Nikki said weakly, trying desperately not to make it a question.

"Very well," the HR man grinned. "You can prove it."

"OK... Um, how?" Nikki looked at Mr. Jones hopefully.

"Take off your top, dear," Mr. Jones smiled back.

"What?!?" Nikki gasped, ice flooding her veins again.

"Well, if this picture isn't you," Mr. Jones said, "then you won't look like her. But your face, Nikki, your face does look very like her. But maybe your other... features... don't."

"No," Nikki whimpered, "I can't."

"If you won't work with us here than we'll have no choice but to let you go," Mr. Jones leered. "If you want to keep your job, Nikki, you'll do what I say."

"Please," Nikki begged.

"Take off your top," Mr. Jones barked.

Shaking, Nikki stood up. Her fingers quivered uncontrollably as she fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. Mr. Jones leered at her intently, while the HR man, standing at her elbow, continued to glower. After what seemed like forever, Nikki finally managed to undo all the buttons of her blouse. Shaking with fear and humiliation, she let the fabric slide open. Her arms shifted and moved as she reflexively tried to cover her lacy white bra and struggled not to.

"The bra too," Mr. Jones said firmly.

Nikki whimpered. Her open blouse slid off her arms, and she slowly reached around, fumbling with her bra hook.

"Enough," the HR man growled, and for an instant Nikki sagged in relief, hoping this was over. "This is taking forever. You do it."

The last was directed at the guard, standing silently by the door. Nikki froze in horror as the big man stomped over to her. His rough hands grabbed her arms, pushing them down to her side. Without any hesitation, he twisted her bra hook loose and jerked the white, lacy fabric off, tossing it unceremoniously aside.

Standing, topless and afraid in her supervisor's office, Nikki whimpered quietly. Mr. Jones and the HR man stared openly at her naked tits, their eyes unabashedly devouring her.

"Well," the HR man said finally, "I think those look very like the girl in the picture."

"I'm not so sure," Mr. Jones replied, standing and walking around to the front of his desk, his eyes never leaving Nikki's bare breasts. "They are certainly firm and perky... but they don't look quite the same."

His eyes flicked to the screen and back, as if comparing the two sets of breasts.

"Ah, I know," Mr. Jones said at last. "In the picture, her nips are hard!"

Nikki reflexively jumped back as Mr. Jones's hands shot toward her, only to slam into the solid, muscular wall of the security guard behind her. Ignoring her actions, Mr. Jones seized her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and squeezed. Nikki gasped as the intense sensations flooded her body. Mr. Jones continued to ignore her reactions, studying instead her freshly tweaked nipples. Grinning, he shook his head and tried again, this time twisting and pulling her hardening nubs. Nikki sobbed as he mauled and twisted her breasts.

Finally, Mr. Jones released her and stepped back again.

"Well," he said, "yes, those could be the same tits as in the picture."

The HR man nodded, "Yes, they very well could, but that doesn't prove it's her."

"It doesn't?" Nikki whimpered, torn between hoping the men might be finished with her and dreading what might happen next if they weren't.

"Well," Mr. Jones smiled, "there is something else we should check."

The HR man nodded and commanded the guard, "Pull up her skirt."

"No," Nikki whispered as the guard grabbed the hem of her skirt and lifted.

"Well that won't do," Mr. Jones leered, gesturing at Nikki's lacy white panties. Grinning, he knelt. Nikki realized in horror he was looking into her eyes, watching her face as he grabbed the edges of her panties. He smiled up at her and slowly pulled them down to her ankles. Then he stood, stepping back and studying his handiwork.

"Yes, that could be it," Mr. Jones mused.

The HR man now took his time, looking between the picture and Nikki's naked pussy. He nodded slowly, and without a word, reached toward her. Nikki tried again to back away, and again struck the fleshy wall of the security guard. To her horror, she felt the guard's hard length pressing against her bare ass while the HR man reached up between her thighs. His fingers brushed across her wet folds.

Wet. Oh God, why was she wet again. Her body trembled with fear and humiliation - or was it desire? Her nipples ached from Mr. Jones' mauling, but did she long for him to twist them again. Was part of her really secretly disappointed that he hadn't slapped her tits? She was appalled at the guard's erection against her ass... or was she arching her back to press against it? The HR man's fingers were probing her slick, wet pussy. Was she rocking to pull away or to guide his hands to touch her more deeply? Her breath was coming in ragged pants because she was afraid, not because she was rushing closer and closer to the edge. It wasn't an orgasm, Nikki told herself desperately as she sobbed and shook. These horrible, perverse men weren't making her cum.

Wiping his fingers on her glistening thighs, the HR man stepped back to survey her naked, humiliated body again. Mr. Jones grinned savagely.

"I think it does look very like her," the HR man said finally, "but I can't be sure from this angle. She should be on her knees."

Nikki was already sinking to the floor as the guard put his hand on her shoulders. On her knees in front of these men, she looked up but away. She was unable to look directly at them. She knew she looked like the picture now: topless, her nipples hard, her pussy bare and her thighs glistening with her own, unwilling desire. There had never been a real question. It really was a picture of her, after all. Of course she would look exactly...

"Not quite," Mr. Jones said finally. "No, she doesn't quite look the same."

"You're right. Something is different," the HR man agreed.

Nikki closed her eyes and tried not her hear the sound that followed, the sound of zippers opening. A hand gripped her short, dark hair, pulling her head forward. She smelled saltiness and musk, felt the firm, spongy tip against her lips, let it pass into her unresisting mouth. Her tongue swirled around it, her head moved, bobbing in time to the urgent thrusts of the thick, hard shaft. Suddenly that shaft was pulled away and another pressed against her lips. She sucked, licked and kissed the hard cock in front of her face. She slid her mouth along its whole length and lapped her tongue desperately against the sweaty, dangling spheres bellow it. She allowed it to thrust deep into her face, gagging and struggling as it sank too deep and then withdrew, only to be replaced by another.

She moved limply from one to another, their cocks sliding over her face, into her mouth, their hands pulling and tugging on her hair, sometimes reaching down to tweak her aching nipples. She wasn't really aware of when her fingers had slid between her thighs and starting playing with her dripping pussy. She only knew that her own warmth was filling her again. She let that feeling rise, while their hard cocks plundered her mouth, until her warmth overtook her and she felt theirs raining down onto her face, her hair, her tits and thighs.

Nikki knelt there, on the floor her supervisor's office. She was topless, her bare tits pert, her nipples swollen. Her skirt was bunched up in a narrow band around her waist, leaving her legs completely bare and spread, the dark tangle of her pussy clearly visible between her wet thighs. Her face upturned, her eyes half closed in a strangely wanton expression, while large blobs of sticky white cum soaked into her hair, slid down her cheeks, over her lips and dripped down her breasts.

***

The guard escorted Nikki back to her cubicle.

They had given her barely enough time to hastily rebutton her blouse, which now hung askew, and straighten her wrinkled skirt, now spotted with wetness. Her faced was flushed and still felt sticky. The HR man had not allowed her to take a tissue off Mr. Jones's desk (only employees were allowed to use company resources), so she had quickly wiped her face with the only thing she could think of: her panties. Now, walking back to her desk, she was sure she had missed some of the mess on her face, not to mention the wet clumps in her hair and the sticky streaks on her breasts.

The guard stood over her as she cleared out her desk, loading her few personal belongings into a small box. Her former coworkers looked on, whispering and grinning.

Silent and grim, he escorted her down to the lobby. With a resigned sigh Nikki started toward the door, to leave this all behind her. She was brought up short by the guard's firm and sudden grip on her arm. Without a word, her turned her and guided her into the security office behind the reception desk.

Uncertain what to do, Nikki allowed herself to be led into the office and stood in front of the guard's desk. Security monitors arrayed behind it showed grainy scenes from around the building.

"Put the box down," the guard said gruffly. It was the first time he'd spoken, Nikki realized as she set the box on the desk.

"Bend over," he commanded.

"Wha...?" Nikki whimpered, to numb to be really surprised by the order.

The guard didn't wait for her to act. He seized the back of Nikki's neck and pushed her face-down onto the desk. She lay weakly, her face pressed against the desktop, as he moved behind her. She heard the coarse sound of his zipper opening. One hand held her neck, pinning her down, his other fumbled with his own belt and pants.

Unthinking, Nikki's hands reached back and tugged at her skirt, bunching it, pulling it up to reveal her naked ass to the guard's hungry gaze. She wasn't sure why she did it. She could hear soft words, whimpering sounds of denial coming from her mouth, but her hands pulled her skirt up anyway. As the guard moved behind her, her hips arched up to accept him even as her mouth refused him.

She felt his hard shaft press against her wetness. She was still so wet, from before when they had touched her, when she had touched herself. She was wet again now, hot and wet and open. The guard's cock slid easily into her body, and her whimpering denial became a moan. He thrust into her, rough and hard, filling her up, stretching her. Warm pleasure grew inside her with each unwanted thrust.

Looking up, Nikki saw the security monitors again, flickering from scene to scene throughout the building. She saw her old coworkers, going about their daily routines while the security guard fucked her. Watched them typing at their computers and making their photocopies as his unwanted cock plunged over and over into her wet pussy.

The monitors changed again and, on one, Nikki saw a view of lobby. The door to the security office stood open. Through it, she could see a woman bent over the desk, her skirt bunched around her hips. A man stood behind her, his pants around his ankles, thrusting himself between the woman's legs. She watched the woman thrusting back against the man, fucking him as hard as he was fucking her. Even on the grainy monitor, Nikki could see the side of the woman's face; see the raw lust of her expression - her own expression. Nikki watched herself fucking the guard on the monitor. She realized suddenly that anyone who came into the lobby just now would see her.

Wild passion crashed through her, pushing her once again over the edge.

***

Later, she stood on the sidewalk outside the office building, the box with her meager belongings in her hands. The cool breeze tangled her clumped hair, brushed against her sticky face and breasts and coiled between her legs, wet and dripping with her desire and the guard's leavings.

Nikki stood and wondered what was going to happen next.