The Bully Pt. 13

Mr. Marshall let out a contented sigh and blew another puff of cigar smoke in my direction. Lela made one more trip to the bathroom, returning with a towel, some massage oil and a pedicure kit.

"Nothing quite like a foot massage after you have emptied your nuts," my boss said needlessly, Lela's intentions having been made obvious by the tools of her trade laid out before me.

"You just relax and enjoy your cigar, Mr. Marshall," Lela whispered as she began to tenderly wash his foot in the soapy water.

I just wanted to get the fuck out of my boss' office but he made me watch for several moments as my future wife pampered his feet. I had to endure the sight of Lela kneeling before this arrogant prick as she lovingly washed and dried his feet, and then applied a liberal dose of massage oil to them. Mr. Marshall puffed away on his cigar, and continued to blow the smoke towards me as my fiancée alternated between massaging his feet and raking her perfectly-manicured, peach-colored nails across the soles and arches of them.

I should have looked away but I was transfixed by Lela's apparent devotion to this man, and her unbridled commitment to his pleasure. I knew that it was an act but her skill as a courtesan made it appear as if she really loved Danny Marshall. I tried to fight it with every fiber in my body but inexplicably my cock began to twitch. I was familiar with this combination of jealousy and rage because John had evoked it in me for all those years, and it always ended up making me erect.

Truth be known, even though this act of reverence wasn't overtly sexual, Lela's complete submission to my boss was more emasculating than knowing that they had fucked. In fact, it wasn't until it was apparent that this foot massage was going to develop into something sexual, that my boss decided to let me leave.

"Would you like me to kiss your feet again, Mr. Marshall?" Lela whispered seductively, removing any doubt that this wasn't my girlfriend's first time worshipping my boss' feet.

"I will take that as a yes," Lela said with a giggle, as my boss' cock visibly stiffened in his tailored pants.

"I will call you when I need you to return, Mark," Mr. Marshall said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand, as my future wife lowered her peach-glossed lips to the sole of one of my boss' feet and began to pepper it with gentle kisses.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I left my boss' office. I hated the thought of being cuckolded yet every time another man used my girlfriend in front of me, my response was to get excited. Today was no exception, and as I scurried down the hallway I made the impromptu decision to bypass my office and head straight to the bathroom.

I wasn't permitted access to the Executive Washroom, well unless Mr. Marshall directed me to freshen it up. So, I headed towards the regular employee restrooms. We were a little behind the times with regard to the proliferation of gender-neutral bathrooms, and I entered the men's facility and was relieved to see no-one was occupying any of the stalls. I had a quick look at myself in the mirror and was embarrassed by my reflection. My face was bright red, a combination of rage and humiliation at the indignities that my boss had just subjected me to. My eyes were bright red and watery from the exposure to the cigar smoke and I had dried saliva all around my mouth, presumably from swallowing hard as I watched my fiancée submit to my boss' every whim. My excitement was palpable, desire evident in my bloodshot eyes and my erection jutting at the front of my tailored pants.

I made the decision to take care of my most pressing need first, and darted into the last stall in the row. These individual stalls were much smaller than the opulent enclosures of the Executive Washroom, and nowhere near as fastidiously clean. Despite the unsanitary conditions, I unzipped my pants and knelt right next to the toilet. Extracting my erection from the confines of my underwear, which were damp with pre-cum, I closed my eyes and visualized my fiancée licking and kissing the soles of another man's feet.

I reached my climax with tremendous alacrity, struggling to suppress my primal urges as I blew my load clear across the toilet seat and against the thin plywood wall of the enclosure. I ended up blowing five or six ropes of semen across the porcelain seat as I knelt by its side. It was a phenomenally satisfying orgasm and I remained on my knees panting as I tried to recuperate. Almost immediately after I had unloaded my nuts, I was consumed with equal parts shame, anger and humiliation.

I was a college-educated professional with a law degree for fuck's sake. Why the hell was I on my knees in my suit on a dirty bathroom floor? I had allowed my base urges to consume me, overwhelming my sense of propriety, reducing me to resort to masturbating in a shared bathroom facility. I was sweating from the demeaning experience and removed my suit jacket. I could smell the distinct odor of cigar smoke on my clothes and it was this tangible, physical reminder of what I had endured that forced me into action.

Emboldened by my desire to push back, I straightened myself up, washed my hands and face and walked back to my office. As soon as I was summoned back to Mr. Marshall's opulent corner office I was going to give him a piece of my mind. It was one thing for him to avail himself of the services of an escort, and even to bring her into a professional work environment. However, it was completely inappropriate and unacceptable to have involved me in his sordid behavior. Furthermore, moving forward he wasn't going to address me as "boy," and I wasn't going to be freshening up the Executive Washroom any time in the future.

As a teenager I used to get in my share of fights and prior to meeting John I frequently used violence to settle disputes. However, ever since the first brutal beat-down John gave me I have considered myself a fairly passive and malleable individual. Years of submission to my roommate and the resultant humiliation that I endured had broken my spirit, and enabled Alphas like Mr. Marshall to bend me to his will. This ends today, I assured myself. As soon as my boss orders me to return to his office I am going to give that arrogant prick a piece of my mind, in front of my fiancée.

I am not sure what the catalyst was that spurred me into action, but at some point I decided that I wasn't going to wait for my boss to summons me. Before I could stop myself I was hurtling down the long corridor towards Mr. Marshall's corner office. I had worked myself up into quite a rage and the image of my future wife on her knees giving my boss a pedicure reverberated through my head. When I reached the large mahogany door to his office, I paused reflexively, conditioned to respect this intimidating man.

Then in an uncharacteristic moment of bravado I stormed right into his office. I don't have many regrets in my life, as I feel like everything that I endured shaped me into the man I am today. However, this seminal event was an unmitigated disaster on my part, and blew up spectacularly in my face.

It took me a moment to process the lewd scene unfurling in that office, and by the time I had taken in the visual I had lost all element of surprise. Mr. Marshall was naked from the waist down and on all fours on his desk, with his back to the door. Lela was stood right behind him, still in her peach-colored ensemble, although her panties were on the floor having been recently removed and discarded. My fiancée was leaning over the edge of the desk and she was performing her rendition of the Rusty Trombone on my boss. All I could see was her long black tresses as Lela buried her nose deep between Mr. Marshall's buttocks. My nemesis John was stood behind Lela, balls-deep inside one of her orifices and thrusting away in search of his own release.

I froze on the spot as I took in the impossibly lewd visual. The three of them seemed to acknowledge my presence at about the same time, but it was John who reacted the quickest, his reflexes honed by years of martial arts training and hand to hand combat. In an instant he withdrew his erect cock from whichever of my fiancée's orifices it was buried in, closed the distance between us, and leveled me with a perfectly placed strike to my solar plexus.

It wasn't the first time that John had used this particular technique to incapacitate me, and the sheer precision of the punch ensured that I struggled to even breathe for several seconds. As I writhed around on the floor desperately seeking some life-sustaining oxygen, John stood over me, to ensure my continued passivity.

Meanwhile, Mr. Marshall simply reached behind himself and placed one of his large hands on the back of my future wife's head to hold her in his desired position. My boss remained on his hands and knees and continued to enjoy Lela's tongue inside his asshole as she performed analingus on him. Once I had gathered my wits about me John dragged me roughly to my knees. It was at this point that I noticed that John's erect cock was sheathed, and I knew for certain that he had been butt-fucking Lela.

"Kneel there and be quiet cuck," John said aggressively. "Let the men in the room finish their business."

With that order issued, John returned to his place behind Lela, lined his cock up with the entrance to her anus, and eased back inside her. I knelt there praying that my boss would tell me to get the fuck out of his office, but it seemed like Mr. Marshall was emboldened by my presence and he began to talk dirty to my girl.

"Yeah Lela you dirty bitch," my boss said loudly. "Get your tongue deep up in there girl. Your cuckold fiancé is watching you eat my ass. Make that pussy proud."

I watched on disconsolately as the two of them violated my fiancée, taking in additional details with each passing moment. As Mr. Marshall remained on his hands and knees I could see traces of Lela's peach-colored lip gloss all over the soles of his feet. Apparently my girlfriend had treated my boss to a protracted foot-worship session before moving her glossed lips to his asshole. From my new vantage point, kneeling about two feet behind John's naked ass, I could see Lela's panties on the floor just to my left. They had been removed rather than ripped from my girlfriend's ass, and as they lay in a crumpled heap, I could see that the crotch was slick with her vaginal secretions. This was another blow to my fragile ego as I realized that she was loving every second of her defilement.

The three of them had quite a rhythm going, John thrusting furiously in and out of Lela's tight anal-passage as she ate my boss' ass and simultaneously jerked him off. Occasionally Mr. Marshall let out a whimper of pure delight as Lela flicked the tip of her tongue across his prostate gland, and when he curled his toes with pleasure, I could see that my fiancée had done a fine job of cutting and polishing his toenails.

John announced that he was close to orgasm first, and unexpectedly he withdrew his cock from Lela's now-gaping anus. Removing the prophylactic from his erection, he tossed it in my direction and it landed on my pants. He glared at me as if to dare me to remove it, so I sat there passively with his discarded condom on my leg. John began to jerk himself off and moved closer behind Lela.

"I should have Mark give me a rimjob, Danny," John announced loudly. "Help me to get over the line."

I heard my boss chuckle at that remark, and wondered if he had any clue about my sexual subservience to my former roommate. A few moments later, after some disparaging remarks aimed at my future wife, John unloaded his nuts all over Lela's ass and lower back, and then disappeared into the restroom. I continued to kneel there right behind my boss and my fiancée, as she lovingly ate his ass.

I couldn't escape this nightmare scenario as everywhere I looked I was faced with reminders of what had happened in this office. Lela's panties, slick with her secretions lay just to my left. John's discarded condom, freshly withdrawn from my fiancées anal-passage, was still on my leg. Traces of peach-colored lipgloss were all over the soles of my boss' recently worshipped and pedicured feet.

"Lie on your back, babydoll," Mr. Marshall instructed my girlfriend. "I am ready to blow my load."

As the two of them changed positions, Lela with far more grace and elegance than my boss, John emerged from the bathroom, fully clothed and seemingly ready to go back to work.

"Thanks Danny," he said cheerfully, "I needed that. Do you need me to ensure that Mark gets back to his office?" he offered.

"No man, but thanks," my boss replied, as he maneuvered into his desired position. "I want the boy to witness this."

Hearing Mr. Marshall continually refer to me as "boy" was my opportunity to pushback, but I failed to seize the moment. Kneeling passively as my boss manhandled my fiancée into place, I lowered my gaze as John passed in front of me. The last thing I needed was another strike from him.

"Dispose of my condom when Mr. Marshall is finished using your girl," John said disdainfully.

Once Lela was laying flat on her back atop the oversized desk, Mr. Marshall climbed back on it and facing me directly, he squatted just over my future wife's face. Lela placed her hands under his muscular buttocks to support some of his weight, and extended her tongue so that it brushed against his asshole. My boss leaned back, found the sweet spot for balance, and started to jerk himself off, as Lela rimmed him. A few moments later, he lowered his buttocks and her nose disappeared between them. Suddenly Mr. Marshall's eyes widened and he let out another whimper as Lela teased his prostate with the tip of her tongue.

"Fuck yeah, babydoll," he exclaimed through his gritted teeth. "Right there. I am close."

My boss continued to jerk off as Lela rimmed him, steadily increasing the intensity of his hand motions until he locked eyes with me.

"Your fiancée really knows how to eat ass, boy," Mr. Marshall said with a smirk, right before he blew his load all over Lela's brand-new, peach-colored bustier.

After he came, my boss continued to stare me down as Lela kept her tongue deep inside his asshole. Finally, as his cock began to soften, he got to his knees and rolled off the side of the desk. Flopping into his leather chair he addressed Lela.

"Thank you, babydoll," he said sweetly. "I can't believe you got me off three times today. I came so hard. Be a good girl and clean up my desk."

"Whatever you want, Mr. Marshall," my girlfriend responded, staying in character.

As my boss recuperated in his large office chair, Lela lowered her lips to the leather topped desk and began to lick up their combined secretions. Most of John's load, which he had deposited on Lela's ass and lower back, had been transferred to the top of the desk when she changed positions and laid on her back. Intermingled with this was the remnants of my boss' load and Lela's own vaginal secretions. The origins of the sticky mess didn't concern Lela and she merely focused on following the instructions of the client, who just happened to be my boss. Lela greedily slurped up the ejaculate and then licked most of the leather clean with her tongue. It was a truly unappetizing event to watch for me, but Mr. Marshall loved every second of it.

After several minutes he got up from his chair, and began to get dressed. I watched as he tucked his flaccid cock back into his underwear, and put his intimidating black suit back on. As my fiancée continued to lap up the remnants of their fluids, Mr. Marshall addressed me sternly.

"What the fuck gives you the right to barge into my office uninvited, boy?" he began aggressively. "Is there something that you want to say to me?"

With John having left the office, the risk of physical confrontation was drastically reduced and I felt free to speak my mind.

"Yes, sir," I began cautiously. "As a matter of fact there is. I don't appreciate being called boy at work. You should address me as Mark. Also, I don't think you should have my future wife come to our mutual place of employment and service you. Out of respect for me you should rent a nice hotel in the future. Lastly, you should be able to avail yourself of Lela's services without rubbing my nose in it. I have a good mind to report this to Human Resources."

I watched Lela perk up as I stood my ground and defended myself. John had ground me down to nothing over the years and this was the first time my future wife had seen me offer any pushback to another man.

"Human Resources, huh?" Mr. Marshall said with disdain. "Lela, grab your coat, and follow me. You too boy. I will give you something to report to HR."

With that stern rebuke, my boss headed out of his office with Lela and I close behind him. As we approached John's office, Mr. Marshall stuck his head in the door and asked John if he had a second to spare. My heart sank as John joined our group and the threat of physical violence returned.

"Mark, please baby," Lela whispered. "Don't mess this up for me. I just made twenty four hundred dollars and your boss is a regular client of mine. He is your direct boss and also a close friend of John's so he can make our lives very difficult. Don't pushback too much, please."

Mr. Marshall marched directly into the men's restroom, and after ascertaining that it was unoccupied, asked John to watch the door.

"Don't let anyone in, John," he instructed. "Tell them it is being cleaned. This won't take long, I assure you."

As John left and closed the door behind him, my boss addressed my fiancée.

"Lela, you need to get your boy under control. If he is not comfortable with your chosen vocation that is not my problem. You advertise that you are a submissive escort at a specific rate. I paid your rate and I expect your full array of services, without any attempt at cock-blocking from your boyfriend. Understand."

"Yes, Mr. Matthews," Lela said in a respectful tone. "I am sorry, sir. It won't happen again, I can assure you."

My boss had ignored me so far but apparently it was now my turn to be tested.

"Kneel, Lela," Mr. Marshall said firmly. "Right by the urinal."

I knew what was happening before it slowly unfurled and I was powerless to stop it. Lela knelt quickly and shuffled forward until her knees were against the stainless-steel trough of the urinal. She was still wearing her brand new bustier, and the tag was now clearly visible from behind. My fiancée flashed me a look of contempt as if I had somehow made things much worse for her, and then looked up expectantly at Mr. Marshall.

"You too, boy," Mr. Marshall instructed me. "On your knees."

I had to make a split-second decision and two clear choices came in to my head. I was holding my iPhone in one hand and could easily have snapped a quick photo of Lela kneeling by the men's urinal, as Mr. Marshall stood sternly over her. This would have been completely unacceptable behavior in any workplace, and possibly grounds for termination of my boss. John was outside the door but it would have taken me two seconds to snap the picture and email it to myself. Or I could kneel next to the trough with my wife.

"Mark please," Lela begged. "Mr. Marshall is an important client of mine and a very close personal friend. Do exactly as he says."

I heard my boss chuckle as I sank to my knees and Lela briefly grabbed my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Mr. Marshall stood impassively for a few seconds and the silence in the room was deafening. Shattered by the unmistakable sound of a zipper being opened, I closed my eyes at the prospect of what was about to happen. There was just no way that my boss could urinate on the two of us. I had no change of clothes at work and Lela had to exit the building through the reception area. Mary would definitely raise the alarm if my future wife walked through the lobby soaking wet and reeking of piss.