tagNonConsent/ReluctanceSusan's Corporate Servitude Pt. 01

Susan's Corporate Servitude Pt. 01

byGeorge VI©

Disclaimer: This story and all characters are fiction. In real life, all nonconsensual sex is immoral and illegal, and not condoned by the author. All characters are over eighteen.


Marcia jumped when the phone in her cubicle rang. With a feeling of dread, she picked the handset off the cradle.

"This is Marcia. Yes, Byron, I'll be right in." Her heart sank. As if being marched into a prison camp, she stood up, and stiffly walked towards Byron's office door. She could hear his voice behind the door, and she opened it without knocking.

Byron was sitting on his desktop, talking on the phone. The fifty-year-old short slender balding executive with the short-cropped beard looked up at Marcia, and waved her in. The thirty-five-year-old slender woman in the scooping satin blouse and short skirt closed the door behind her and timidly approached Byron. Without even pausing his loud phone conversation, Byron spread his dangling legs and simply pointed to his crotch. Knowing the drill, Marcia stood between Byron's legs and unbuckled his belt. She unsnapped his pants, unzipped his fly, reached into his briefs, and pulled out his all-too-familiar cock.

As Byron continued his phone negotiations, Marcia reached out and stroked his cock to full hardness. Byron ran his free hand though her long thick strawberry blonde hair one time, and then slid his palm down her exposed chest, into her blouse, and over her white lacy bra. His fingers slid into her bra cup, and he fondled her small left breast.

When Byron released her hard nipple and withdrew his hand from her blouse, Marcia knew it was her next queue. She dropped to her knees onto the carpet, leaned forward, and placed her lips onto Byron's dick head. She slid her lips over the warm vein-covered shaft and sucked at a medium pace.

Marcia heard the door open, and she glanced back. Her boss Gary closed the door behind himself, and he sauntered over to the desk. He appeared to listen to Byron's phone conversation for a moment. Then he casually unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and dropped his slacks and his boxers to his ankles. After a few quick strokes of his own cock, Gary knelt behind Marcia.

Marcia felt the cool air hit her bottom as Gary pushed up her skirt, and exposed her naked, panty-less ass. She felt him slide his warm dull cock over her ass crack a few times, felt him grabbing her exposed ass cheeks, and then she felt his fingers spreading open her pussy lips. His cock head was thrust into her pussy, which to Marcia's usual humiliation, was moist and slippery.

Marcia grunted quietly when Gary pumped his cock deep into her pussy, slamming into her ass and knocking her slightly off balance. She managed to hang onto the cock in her mouth and keep sucking as she got fucked.

My God, she prayed silently. How long can this go on? How many times do I have to go home to my husband with the taste of another man's penis on my lips? With somebody else's semen dripping out of my vagina? How often do I have to make excuses to him not to have sex before he figures out I'm getting ravaged almost daily at work? She remembered the line from The Exorcist: "Your mother sucks cocks in hell!" Marcia sucks cocks regularly in what feels like hell, and she didn't want her children to ever know about it.

"Yea, Gary just came in. Let me put you on the speaker," Byron said to the person on the phone. Byron put the phone down, and he and Gary continued a three-way conversation on the speakerphone, all the while filling Marcia's crevices with their cocks. Marcia now recognized the voice on the phone. It was Alex, a top client. Alex had also had sex with Marcia several times.

The three men finished up their business dealings while Marcia took care of their physical needs. "Hey, Byron, you still have Marcia working there?" asked Alex.

"Yea," grunted Byron, "She's right here. Marcia, say hi to Alex."

As commanded, Marcia removed her lips from Byron's cock and said, "Hi Alex."

"Ha ha, hi, Marcia," Alex chuckled. "Well, I can tell you guys are busy, so I'll let you get back to, um, business. See ya later."

With the phone business completed, Byron and Gary exchanged a few comments about the deal, and then became silent, finally paying complete attention to Marcia's efforts. Gary pumped her harder and faster, making loud slapping sounds as his pelvis banged into her ass.

"I have a meeting in ten minutes, you better get a little tongue action going, Marcia," commanded Byron. Marcia licked over Byron's dick head like it was an ice cream cone, and flitted her tongue over it rapidly. She licked her tongue down the shaft, and onto his hairy testicles. Byron's moan told her she had done well.

Marcia returned to rapid cock sucking, and Gary banged faster and harder. Then came Marcia's next moment of shame. She knew that she was approaching an orgasm. She hated it when these two men she despised so much got her off, but she'd tried to suppress her feelings before to no avail. So this time she let her orgasm build. She moaned and whimpered, and thrust her bottom back to meet Gary's cock.

"Hmmm, she's gonna cum soon, Byron, I can tell," chuckled Gary.

"Urrg, me too," grunted the man sitting on the desk.

Gary came first, shooting his jizm into Marica's pussy. In turn, this began the final launch of Marcia's shuddering orgasm. And while still jerking her way through that, Byron unloaded a wad of cream into Marcia's mouth.

Marcia deftly swallowed nearly every drop of Byron's cum, not wanting to get it onto her face or clothes or hair. As Gary pulled his cock out of her pussy and stood up, Marcia leaned back and let Byron's cock slip out of her mouth.

After a moment of panting and dizziness, Marcia stood up, smoothed her skirt down, and wiped some jizm off her chin with the back of her hand. Byron and Gary zipped themselves up, and started right back on their conversation about the deal. Without a word from Marcia or an acknowledgement from the two men, Marcia silently crept out of the room, closed the door behind her, and headed to the bathroom to clean up, trying not to notice the knowing eyes on her in the hallway.


For the most part, Susan Fonda was excited about her new promotion. With her husband having just returned to work after a lengthy unemployment, the large jump in pay was a godsend. And it appeared to be a wonderful opportunity for the twenty-eight-year-old liberal arts major, who had limped from one low-end clerical job to another since graduation six years ago. This new sales assistant job wasn't something she had been trained for, but apparently management felt that after two years with the company that she knew the business well enough. Plus, her predecessor Marcia's sudden announcement that her husband had accepted a job in another city left the sales department in a bind with so many contracts up for renewal in the next few weeks. She was told that this was a visible, high-pressure sales job, and she had promised to be tough and put in extra effort to keep old accounts and land new ones.

The downside was that she never cared for Gary, her new boss. The chubby, slightly balding, forty-something Gary seemed like he spent all his time joking around, and flirting with the women in the office. Several times over the past year or so he'd complimented her on her hair, or her outfit, in ways that told her he was looking at her in more than a business context. In fact, he once made what she considered an offensive comment to her, saying something like, "That's a nice sweater, Susan, it shows off your perky boobs!" She couldn't get that "perky boobs" comment of her head. And she was afraid of Gary's boss Byron, a short, skinny, nasty man. Byron just scowled at her the way he did everyone, except that he seemed to stare at her body a little too long sometimes. Susan was aware that she was a sensitive woman, and knew she would have to toughen up to impress these men.

Susan's first day in her new position was relatively uneventfully. Mostly she got her new cubicle organized, studied some sales brochures at Gary's request, and prepared several presentations. It was the second day, about mid-morning, that Gary called her into his office.

"This afternoon Chuck and Frank are going to be in. They represent one of our biggest clients. I want you to meet them," ordered Gary.

"Sure," acknowledged Susan.

"And then after the meeting, I want you to go out for some drinks and dinner with us. OK?"

"Uh, yes, I suppose." Actually Susan was disappointed that she couldn't go home to her husband. But she really had nothing planned after work, and she didn't want to turn down such a request on her second day on the job.

"Later you will be working with them from time to time. But today I just need you to be agreeable, you don't have to hard sell, that's my job. I just want them to get to know you. Now Chuck and Frank are from the old school. They're old geezers and haven't even accepted women in management yet. Touchy feely guys. So you have to put up with them even if they get a little obnoxious."

Susan wasn't exactly sure what Gary meant by that. "Touchy feely?"

Gary didn't exactly elaborate. "Let me just say that no matter what, you can't risk offending these guys, they're that important to the company. You have to endure whatever they throw at you. But don't worry. They'll love your perky boobs."

There was that expression again! Susan felt her face getting flush. She instinctively glanced down at her white top, clinging tightly to her breasts. Her breasts aren't even that large. They did sort of stick out in a cone-shaped fashion in her current B cup bra, but she didn't think the sweater was inappropriate for business. Susan took offense at the comment, but didn't know what to say. Another fault of Susan's that she was aware of was that she sometimes didn't speak up when she should. She didn't have time to verbally react to the "perky boobs" comment, because Gary kept talking, and got back to business.

But her mind wandered. Susan didn't even think of her self as overly attractive. Her face was pretty, with big brown eyes and full lips, but her nose wasn't perfect. At five-foot five-inches she wasn't particularly tall. Her legs were nice but not particularly long. Her butt was just OK, she thought, and her stomach was flat, she was in good shape, and her long brown straight hair was full. Susan was confident in her appearance, but she didn't think of herself as someone who turned heads. Just an average, late-twenties wife and office worker.

When the conversation concluded, Susan stood to leave. She wished that she'd had some notice about the meeting and dinner, as she realized that she was dressed sort of casual. Along with her thin sweater, she wore a casual printed skirt that hemmed slightly above her knees, and didn't even have on pantyhose. "Should I go home and change into something a little better?" She asked her new boss.

Gary came around his desk and put his arm around her. "Naw, you look great! Just show them a little leg, and they'll love ya." Gary gave her waist a little squeeze, and then opened the office door for her.

Again, Susan was taken back by Gary's comment on her appearance, but again she didn't know what to say in return. And the arm around her waist. Is this the way he was going treat her? Maybe he was testing her. Am I really up to this kind of wine-and-dine sales? "Toughen up, Susan," she told herself.

The meeting itself included Chuck, Frank, Gary and another member of the sales department named Terry. Susan was introduced to Chuck and Frank. They were, indeed, old, each looking gray, bespectacled, and in their sixties. Chuck was a little chunky, and bald. His shirt collar was too small for his neck, and flesh hung over his collar and tie. Frank was tan, spiffily dressed, and his full head of hair appeared to have been sprayed into place.

Susan ended up sitting next to Chuck at the conference table. Except for chiming in on a couple of product details, Susan said little during the meeting. The men behaved, with the possible exception of Chuck maybe staring down at Susan's legs a little too much.

After the meeting, Gary drove the five of them to the restaurant. Somehow Terry ended up in the front seat, and Susan was seated between her two clients in the back. Susan had worn a light jacket to work, but left it behind so it wouldn't end up smelling like smoke from the lounge. During the drive, both Chuck and Frank took up more than their share of the sedan's back seat, pressing their thighs into Susan's. Susan's skirt hiked up from the constant rubbing, exposing more thigh than she liked. Chuck dominated the conversation in the back, but Susan caught both of the older men looking at her legs. Gary wanted her to "show them a little leg." She didn't mean to, but she was.

The quintet entered the crowded restaurant lounge and found a small lounge table with four stools. Susan was seated across from Gary and Terry, and was flanked by Chuck and Frank, who both said they preferred to stand. Gary and Terry quickly got into shop talk with each other, while Frank and Chuck both turned their complete attention to Susan, talking loudly in the noisy bar, their wrinkled faces inches from hers. Susan was not a heavy drinker - an occasional glass of wine was generally all she was good for, or maybe an occasional rum and coke. But on Chuck's and Frank's insistence, she joined them in several rounds of very, very strong mixed drinks. The first one should have steadied her nerves, but her nerves because continuously more frazzled as the two older men began to hit on her.

Their conversation started out friendly enough, with a lot of questions about her personal life. But as the drinks kept coming, they went from semi-veiled flirtations to crude innuendos. Even worse was their "touchy feely" demeanor. Chuck, on her left, started with the occasional touch of her arm. Then his right hand rested on the back of her stool, and then was placed on her waist. Then his left hand ended up touching her knee. On her right side, Frank was pressing his upper thigh into her leg, and she could feel the lump of his penis occasionally press against her. His left hand occasionally rested on her shoulder as he spoke to her, but his eyes mostly spoke to her chest.

Chuck's and Frank's hands were all over Susan, who was trapped between the two men. Their conversation and their touching were relentless, and Susan, aware of what she considered her "wining and dining" duty, endured it. Chuck's left hand was halfway up her bare thigh over her skirt, Frank's right hand was on her other thigh, and both of them had their other hand on her shoulder and waist.

Finally their table was ready, and they were summoned to the restaurant. As Susan slid off her bar stool, Frank gallantly let her walk ahead of him, only put his hand on her hip and run it down her ass, giving it a quick pat.

The restaurant was even darker and nearly as loud as the lounge was. They were led to a round booth in the corner, and somehow Susan once again was stuck seated between the two boorish older clients. It was not a coincidence, it seemed. Gary and Terry sat next to each other and continued their private conversation, with only the occasional glance up from Gary.

Yet another round of drinks was brought, even though Susan requested nothing. Each drink seemed to be stronger than the last. With an empty stomach, Susan knew she was quite intoxicated. Her senses were dull and her reaction times slow, but she was acutely aware of the "touchy feely" hands that had returned to her body. Chuck was still on her left, and again his right hand was on her hip as he faced her, and his left hand was again on her thigh, this time pushing the hem of her skirt up under the table. Frank, on her right, put his whole arm around her and rested his left hand on her left shoulder. His right hand was on her bare flesh at mid-thigh.

Keeping a smile on her face, Susan was bold enough to slide her hand under the table, place them on the two hands on her thighs, and gently push them away. This kept them at bay for a moment, but then Frank slipped his right hand under Susan's left armpit, reaching far enough around for his fingers to be grazing the side of her breast over her thin sweater and bra. Chuck's hand dropped down below Susan's hip, patting the top of her fanny.

Susan tried to wiggle her way out of the hand grazing her left breast, then tried to push it away with her right hand. But in the meantime, two hands ended up on her thighs again, pushing her hem higher. Again she pushed the hands off her thighs, but Frank countered by moving his right hand up her waist, and grabbing a quick handful of her right breast. Chuck's right hand worked its way under her sweater in back, and she felt it roam over her bare back, over her bra. It was a battle, with Susan pushing hands away from one place, only to have another hand placed somewhere else. Susan looked at Gary for help, but he only smiled at her and nodded.

Dinner was finally served, and everybody ate, but Chuck and Frank managed to eat with one hand on the table and one under it, stroking her bare thighs. Her skirt was pushed up so high that a quick glance under the tablecloth gave Susan a quick glimpse of her own white panty crotch. Susan tried to "be tough" and endure the groping, and in her intoxicated state wasn't able to think quickly or react enough to find a clever way out. As the hands under the table continued to squeeze her inner thighs, she was resigned to eat with both hands while she felt the hands move closer and closer to her crotch. When Chuck's little pinky grazed the edge of her panty at her crotch, Susan let it stay there a little too long before subtly reaching under the table and pushing it away. She tried to keep her legs pressed together, but soon Chuck's hand was back pressing against her panties. This time she left it there, rubbing her pubic mound over her cotton panties.

Gary and Terry bought more rounds of drinks, ate slowly, and then ordered desert while Chuck and Frank finished their meals and returned their complete attention to groping Susan. With knowing looks from Gary, she couldn't stop them. Frank's left hand was back around under her arm, freely squeezing her left breast. Chuck's hand relentlessly rubbed her pussy. Eventually they shifted positions. Now Frank's hand was tickling her panties over her crotch. And Chuck's left hand was under her sweater, feeling her left tit over her bra. Susan alternately tried to stop him, and then turned his way in order to hide the fondling from the restaurant staff.

Susan kept trying to push the hands away without being offensive, but the hands kept groping and prodding. Chuck's fingers were attempting to work their way up inside the bottom of Susan's bra. While Susan fought off this attempt, Frank worked his fingers inside of her panties, and roamed through her pubic hair.

Susan had a fleeting thought of her husband, of what he would do if he knew his wife was letting two dirty old men fondle her in a restaurant. She felt ashamed, knowing she could never tell him about this.

Chuck's hand managed to reach inside of her left bra cup from underneath, and he squeezed her bare tit and hard nipple. Frank rubbed her pussy rapidly, then worked his middle finger inside of her pussy. Susan realized that her pussy was soaking wet, and the finger found plenty of lubrication.

Susan continued her endurance and inadequate defenses until Frank found her clit. The minute he touched it, Susan jumped. And then she was paralyzed as he diddled it rapidly with two fingers.

At first Susan thought it was the liquor, but then she realized that she was dizzy because she was about to have an orgasm. She closed her eyes and tried to wish it away, but that only made it worse. She tried to subtly rest her head on her right hand with her elbow on the table. Terry and Gary didn't seem to notice it, but the other two men were looking right at her as her eyes rolled upwards, she shuddered and shook, bit her lips, and climaxed into a medium-sized orgasm.

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byGeorge VI© 0 comments/ 665724 views/ 290 favorites

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