All-Lesbian Company Bukkakes the New Girl Until Her Makeup Runs

The fourteenth floor still held the last of the daylight when Marlene brought her through. Divya had been twenty-eight for three months and a graphic designer for nine days, and the glass offices of the production company still felt like a set she had wandered onto by accident. Sleek white desks, monitors looping soft footage she tried not to stare at, the smell of coffee and the clean citrus of someone's perfume. Marlene was thirty-four, tall, silver rings on both hands, the kind of boss who said a person's name like she was already tasting it.

"Everyone," Marlene said, one palm light at the small of Divya's back, "this is Divya. She starts on the campaign boards Monday. Be decent for at least an hour."

They were not decent for five minutes.

Carmen came first, thirty-two, dark curls pinned up, an editor's sharp eyes. She leaned a hip against the edge of Divya's new desk and looked at her mouth as if the mouth were a problem she intended to solve. "Those lips," she said. "God. Did you do that liner yourself?"

"I did," Divya said. Her voice came out smaller than she wanted.

Nadine, twenty-nine, crossed from the producer bay with a coffee she did not drink. She tipped her head, studying the wing of black at the outer corner of Divya's eye. "It's perfect. Heavy. The kind that would look filthy if it moved." She smiled, not unkind. "Welcome."

Brooke was thirty-six and built like she lifted camera rigs for a living, which she did. She circled once, slow, and Divya felt the circle close. Tessa, thirty-one, talent coordinator, trailed a fingertip along the back of Divya's chair without quite touching her. Sloane, thirty, sound, stayed a little farther off and still managed to make the air feel crowded.

"Curvy," Brooke said, plain as a weather report. "And that face. Marlene, you hired a face."

Divya's cheeks went hot. She had worn the eyeliner heavier than usual that morning, a private dare, and now six pairs of eyes were confirming she had been right to. Her blouse was silk, pale, and she was suddenly aware of how it sat against her breasts.

Marlene watched her the way a director watches a take she already likes. "They're terrible," she said. "You can tell them to back off."

"I don't want them to back off," Divya heard herself say. The words landed in the quiet between keyboards. She swallowed, then let the rest of it out, because holding it had started to feel like a lie. "I've thought about this. About women like you. Confident. A whole room of you. Using me." She tried to smile and mostly managed it, shy and bright at once. "I fantasized about it before I even sent the application. I'm sorry if that's too much for a first day."

Carmen's laugh was low. "Honey. You picked the wrong building if you wanted too much to be a problem."

Nadine's gaze dropped, just once, to the line of Divya's throat. "After hours," she said. "We do a welcome. Only if you want it. Say no and we go back to being extremely professional and extremely annoyed about it."

Divya's pulse kicked. "I want it."

Marlene's hand stayed where it was, warm through silk. "Then stay late. Conference room. No clients. No cameras. Just us."

The day crawled. Divya colored layouts and tried not to think about the way Brooke had said face, or the way Marlene had not asked twice. By seven the floor was empty except for them. The conference room lights were low. Someone had pushed the chairs back. The long table shone.

Marlene closed the door and turned the lock with a deliberate click that was for privacy, not for show. "Ground rules," she said. "You can stop anything. One word. We stop. Nobody films this. Nobody talks about it outside this room unless you say so. Clear?"

"Clear," Divya said. Her hands were damp. Her thighs were not.

Carmen sat on the edge of the table, knees apart in a dark skirt. "We've been talking about your mouth since ten this morning."

"And that liner," Nadine added. "I want to see it fail."

Brooke folded her arms, but her voice had gone rough. "We cover your pretty face. One after another. You stay down, or you stay in Marlene's lap, and you take it. Squirt. A lot of it. Until the makeup gives up."

Tessa's smile was almost gentle. "Until it runs. That's the welcome."

Sloane finally spoke, quiet. "Only if you ask."

Divya stood in the middle of the room and felt every eye on the front of her blouse. The cool air of the vent found her, and her nipples drew tight, obvious through the thin silk, no bra to soften them. She did not cross her arms. She wanted them to see.

"I want it," she said again, and this time her voice did not shake. "I want you to ruin it. The eyeliner. The mascara. All of it. I've been wet since Carmen said my lips. Please." She looked at Marlene, then at the circle. "Please use me. Cover my face. I am begging you."

Something in the room changed temperature. Marlene exhaled like she had been holding a match.

"Clothes stay mostly on for the first part," Marlene said. "Unless you want them off."

"Off enough," Divya said. She unbuttoned the blouse herself, fingers clumsy, and let it fall open. Her breasts were full, brown, nipples dark and already stiff. A few of the women made small sounds. She pushed her skirt up and her panties down and stepped out of them, then sat in the chair they had left in the center, bare from the waist down, blouse hanging open, makeup still perfect. "Like this."

Marlene straddled her without ceremony, skirt hiked, nothing underneath. The heat of her settled over Divya's lap, slick already, and Divya's hands came up on instinct to hold her hips. Marlene cupped Divya's jaw, thumb stroking just under the wing of liner.

"Open," she said.

Divya opened her mouth. Marlene did not kiss her yet. She rose up on her knees on the chair, one hand in Divya's hair, and brought herself down onto Divya's tongue.

The taste was clean and sharp and salt. Divya licked because she had been asked to and because she wanted to, broad strokes, then narrower, finding the place that made Marlene's thighs tighten around her ears. The other women closed in. Divya could hear them breathing. Someone's hand stroked her hair. Someone else's fingers found her breast and pinched, not cruel, just sure, and she moaned into Marlene and felt the vibration land.

"Good girl," Marlene said, riding in short rolls. "Don't stop. Carmen's next. Then Nadine. Then the rest. You don't get to wipe your face until I say."

"Yes," Divya managed, muffled.

Marlene came with a low curse, grinding down, flooding Divya's mouth and chin. She stayed there a moment, shaking, then climbed off and stood over her, one foot on the chair rung, fingers already working between her own legs again. "Stay looking up."

Carmen took the lap next. She was softer in the way she sat, meaner in the way she talked. "Tongue out. Flat. There. God, your mouth is obscene." She rocked, one hand braced on Divya's shoulder, the other tugging her own nipple through her shirt. Divya sucked and licked and let her fingers slide up under Carmen's skirt when Carmen grabbed her wrist and put it there. Two fingers, then three, curling, while her tongue stayed busy. Carmen broke fast, gasping Divya's name, and when she stood she did not step back. She planted herself above Divya's upturned face and rubbed herself in quick, wet circles.

"Open your mouth. Eyes open. I want you watching."

Divya watched. Carmen's thighs trembled. The first spurt hit hot across Divya's cheek, startling, thicker than she had imagined, and then another, and another, striping her eyebrow, her nose, the corner of her mouth. She tasted it when it reached her lips. Her eyeliner held for one heartbeat and then the wet weight of it dragged the wing downward.

"Oh," Nadine said, delighted. "There it goes."

Nadine didn't wait for the chair. She stood over Divya while Brooke took the lap, a messy overlap that made Divya dizzy in the best way. Brooke was heavy and unhurried, grinding onto Divya's tongue, one broad hand covering most of Divya's breast. "Fingers," Brooke ordered, and Divya gave them, fucking up into her while she licked. Brooke came quietly, a full-body clench, and pulled off with a slick sound that made Tessa swear.

Then they were all standing. A tight ring. Divya's head tipped back against the chair, mouth open, eyes open, exactly as they had told her. Her own arousal was a pulse between her legs that nobody had touched yet, and she did not ask. This was the part she had begged for.

Nadine went first of the standing ones, two fingers buried in herself, the other hand spreading herself above Divya's face. "Pretty," she panted. "Hold still." She came in a rush that splashed Divya's forehead and ran immediately into her hairline, hot, relentless, three hard pulses that soaked the mascara. Black streaked. Divya blinked and felt it slide into the corner of her eye, not painful, just messy, and she licked what reached her mouth because she wanted them to see her want it.

"Thank you," she said, hoarse.

"Not yet," Marlene said. "Tessa."

Tessa was shaking before she even got close. Sloane stood behind her, one arm around her waist, fingers helping, and Tessa cried out and bore down and the squirt hit Divya's open mouth dead center, then her chin, then a wild arc that caught her throat and the open silk of her blouse. Foundation, carefully set that morning, broke into rivulets. Beige and black ran together down her cheeks in glossy lines. She swallowed what she could. The rest dripped off her jaw onto her breasts.

Sloane took her own turn after, quieter, almost solemn, working herself with a focused rhythm until she shuddered and added another hot spill across Divya's nose and lips. Brooke came back for a second, unable to stay out of it, and Marlene finished what she had started standing, one hand fisted in Divya's hair, the other frantic between her legs, and when she released it was the most of all — thick, repeated, soaking what was left of the eyeliner until both wings had dissolved into dark tears running toward Divya's ears.

They did not stop at one pass. Carmen again, laughing breathlessly, adding to the mess. Nadine again, aiming lower, painting Divya's mouth until Divya was gasping and shining and the chair beneath her was wet from her own untouched need as much as from what had run off her chin. The room smelled like sex and warm skin. Someone was moaning. Divya realized it was her.

"More," she said, and meant it. "Please, don't stop until it's ruined."

They gave her more. A last round, tighter, faster, each woman taking what she needed from her own hand and giving it to Divya's face. Squirt streaked through the wreckage of mascara. It pooled in the hollow of her throat. It dripped from her eyelashes when she blinked. Her full lips were glazed. The perfect liner was a memory, two gray-black rivers cutting through what remained of her foundation, running in messy lines to her jaw and off it.

When the last shudder passed through Brooke, the circle loosened. Breathing. A laugh that was almost tender.

Divya licked her lips. The taste was all of them. She was panting, chest heaving, nipples still hard, thighs pressed together because if she moved she might come from nothing but the air.

"Carmen," she said, looking up through the blur. "Thank you. Nadine. Thank you. Brooke. Tessa. Sloane." Her voice cracked on the last. "Marlene. Thank you. I wanted this. I still want it."

Marlene crouched. She used the heel of her hand and a corner of her own skirt to clear only enough of the mess from Divya's mouth to kiss her. The kiss was deep, slow, unbothered by the taste. Divya kissed back with everything she had, grateful and dizzy and proud of the ruin on her skin.

"Shower," Marlene said against her mouth. "Executive one. All of us. And next Thursday, if you want it again, we do the edit bay. Longer."

"Yes," Divya said, and laughed, a real laugh, bright with satisfaction. "Yes. Carry me if you're going to be dramatic about it."

They were dramatic about it. Brooke and Tessa got her under the arms, Carmen gathered her blouse and her abandoned panties, Nadine held the door, Sloane killed the conference room lights. They moved down the dim hall toward the executive bathroom in a loose, laughing cluster, Divya's bare feet barely touching the carpet, her face still dripping, her smile wide enough to hurt.

In the bathroom the lights were kinder. Someone started the water. Steam began to fog the mirror.

Divya caught herself in the glass before it clouded, and the laugh died in her throat.

The woman looking back was glistening, striped with black and beige, mouth swollen, eyes bright — and suddenly, terribly, not sure. The warmth that had filled her chest dropped out like a trapdoor. She had begged. She had meant it. Nothing had been taken that she had not handed over with both hands. And still something was wrong, a thin cold thread under the afterglow: the lock on the door, the way Marlene had said next Thursday as if the calendar already belonged to her, the way six women had planned her face before she had finished her first week. She thought of the layouts on her desk, her name on a contract, the careful life she had built to get here. She thought of how easily she had said please.

Marlene's hand settled at her waist, possessive and kind. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," Divya said. The smile she put on felt borrowed. In the fogging mirror her ruined makeup kept running, and she did not know, standing there wanted and satisfied and suddenly small, whether she had just been welcomed or whether she had just agreed to disappear a little, every Thursday, until there was nothing left of the liner or the girl who had drawn it on for herself.