Boss's No-Panties Office Pet

Roxanne was twenty-two, and her cunt had been wet since she locked her apartment door. The white shirt was cheap cotton, one size too small, buttons straining over her tits because she had left the bra in a drawer on purpose. Her nipples showed through it, dark and hard. The black skirt sat high on her hips and stopped just under the crease of her ass. Nothing underneath. She had checked in the elevator mirror, hiked the hem, and watched her bare pussy wink at the fluorescent lights.

Bruno was forty. He owned the firm. She had been his secretary for eight months, and last Friday after everyone else went home she had climbed onto his desk, spread her knees, and asked him to use her at work. Not later. Not in a hotel. Here. She had said she wanted the short skirts and the missing panties and the missing bra. She had said she wanted him to send her to clients and tell her to please them any way they asked. She had said it while she was sitting on his cock, grinding, repeating it until he believed her.

She walked into his office with the door left open behind her and turned so he could see the outline of her nipples.

“They’re coming at ten,” Bruno said. “Victor first. Julian after. You keep that shirt on until they take it off. Skirt stays until they hike it. You do whatever they want. Mouth. Cunt. Ass. Tits. You don’t stop until they come. That still what you asked me for?”

“Yes.” She lifted the skirt and showed him her pussy, already shiny. “I want it. Tell me again.”

“You’re going to be their office fucktoy. Bare under that skirt. You please them any way possible. You asked for this. You still want it.”

“I still want it.” She rubbed her clit twice in front of him and held up the wet on her fingers. “I’ve been thinking about their cocks since I woke up.”

Victor arrived at 10:02. He was thirty-six, a buyer with thick hands and a slow smile. Roxanne met him in the glass conference room with a folder she did not need. Bruno stood in the doorway long enough to say, “She’ll take care of you. Any way you want. She asked for it.” Then he left them.

Victor looked at the nipples under the white cotton and the hem of the skirt. “Turn around.”

She turned. She bent. She reached back and flipped the skirt up herself so he could see her ass and the wet slit between her thighs.

“No panties,” she said. “I didn’t put any on. I want you to use me.”

“Come here.”

She went. He sat in the conference chair and unzipped. His cock was already hard, thick, veined. Roxanne dropped to her knees on the carpet without being told a second time. She wrapped her fingers around him, spit on the head, and took him into her mouth. She sucked him deep on the first stroke, throat opening, spit running down to her fist. She looked up while she did it. She moaned around him because she liked the stretch and the taste.

Victor put a hand in her hair and fucked her face in short thrusts. She gagged once, eyes watering, and pushed herself farther down anyway. Her shirt hung open where a button had given; one tit was already out, nipple dragging the wool of his pants. She cupped her own breast and squeezed it while she sucked him, showing him she was not waiting to be ordered.

“Skirt up. Sit on it.”

She stood, straddled him in the chair, and sank down in one wet slide. No panties meant nothing between her cunt and his cock. She took all of him, ass hitting his thighs, and started riding. The chair creaked. Her tits bounced in the open shirt. She braced on his shoulders and ground her clit against his base on every downstroke, chasing it, telling him she was close, telling him not to stop, telling him she wanted his cum in her.

He stood with her still impaled, dumped her on the conference table, and drove into her from behind. Her cheek hit the glass. She reached back and spread her own ass so he could watch his cock punch in and out of her bare pussy. Wet sounds filled the room. She came first, clenching, shaking, swearing, still pushing back onto him. He pulled out, flipped her, and shoved back into her mouth. She sucked her own taste off him until he came, thick ropes over her tongue and the open collar of the white shirt. She swallowed what she could and let the rest stripe her tits.

“Julian’s next,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, grinning, still panting. “Don’t clean me up. I want him to see it.”

Julian was forty-one, lean, already hard in his pants when Bruno walked him in. Bruno’s eyes went to the cum on Roxanne’s shirt and the shine on her inner thighs. She stood there with the skirt still rucked around her waist, pussy flushed and used, and she said, “I’m ready. Whatever you want. Bruno told me to please you any way possible. I asked him to tell me that.”

Julian hooked two fingers in her cunt without greeting her. She was sloppy from Victor. He added a third. She moaned and pushed down on his hand.

“Ass,” he said.

“Yes.” She bent over the table, reached back, and pulled her cheeks apart. “Spit. Use it. I want it in my ass.”

He spit on her hole and worked a thumb in. She rocked back onto it. When he replaced the thumb with the head of his cock she bore down and took him, slow, filthy, her cunt dripping onto the glass while her ass stretched around him. Bruno stayed. Roxanne looked at her boss over her shoulder while Julian started to fuck her ass and said, “Watch. This is what I asked for.”

Julian’s hips slapped her ass. He grabbed the hanging shirt and tore it the rest of the way open. Her tits swung. He reached around and pinched her nipples hard enough to make her yelp, then harder because she said “harder.” He used her ass like it was built for it, long strokes, then short and mean. She came again with a cock in her ass, thighs shaking, one hand on her clit, smearing Victor’s leftover mess into her own.

“Mouth,” Julian said, pulling out.

She turned, dropped, and sucked her ass off his cock. She did it messy, spit and more, looking at Bruno while she did it. Julian came down her throat. She took it, swallowed, and kept sucking until he shoved her off.

Bruno had his cock out. Roxanne crawled to him on the conference-room carpet, shirt wrecked, skirt around her waist, ass leaking, cunt swollen, and opened her mouth. “Use me. I want you too. I want all of it.”

He fucked her face while Victor came back in, already stroking a second hard-on. They moved her like furniture she had volunteered to be. Victor sat; she sat on his cock, cunt stretching around him again. Bruno took her mouth. Julian stood to the side and fed her his softening cock to clean. Then they switched. Bruno bent her over the table and slammed into her cunt from behind while Victor held her hair and used her throat. Julian spat on her ass and worked two fingers in while Bruno fucked her, then replaced the fingers with his cock so she had both holes filled, stuffed, moaning around Victor.

They used her until the shirt was only hanging from one wrist. They used her until her mascara ran and her thighs were shiny to the knees. They took turns in her cunt and her ass and her mouth. She asked for more every time someone pulled out. She said “please” and “don’t stop” and “fill me” and she meant every word. When Victor came in her pussy she reached down, scooped it, and pushed it into her own mouth. When Julian came in her ass she kept him there until he went soft. When Bruno came, he pulled out of her cunt and painted her tits and her tongue.

They were not done. Bruno sat in the big chair at the head of the table and pulled her into his lap facing out. His cock, still half-hard, slid back into her used cunt. Victor stood in front of her and fed her his cock again. Julian stood behind the chair and pushed into her ass, stacking her on both of them, Bruno in her pussy, Julian in her ass, Victor in her mouth. She was full. She drooled. She came so hard her vision spotted, body jerking on the two cocks inside her, throat working on the third. They fucked her through it. The chair legs scraped. Her tits bounced. Cum from earlier ran down over Bruno’s balls. She reached back and held her ass open for Julian and reached forward and cupped Victor’s sack and she did not stop moving.

Bruno told her to take it. She said yes. Victor told her to swallow. She said yes and did. Julian told her to keep her ass relaxed so he could dump another load in it. She said yes, please, put it in me, I want it leaking when I walk back to my desk.

They came in her in a filthy pile, one after another, filling cunt and ass and mouth until it ran down her chin and over her tits and out of both holes onto Bruno’s slacks. She stayed on them until they softened and slipped out. Then she slid to the floor on her knees, looked up at the three of them, and scooped the mess off her chest with two fingers, sucking it clean, then reaching between her legs to push more of it back into her cunt.

She stood on shaky legs, skirt still around her waist, shirt destroyed, pussy and ass dripping on the conference-room carpet. Bruno told her to go sit at her desk like that until lunch. She said she wanted to. She walked out of the glass room with cum on her inner thighs, no panties, no bra, white shirt hanging open, and sat in her chair with her legs spread so anyone who came down the hall could see her wrecked, used, dripping cunt.

She clocked the rest of the morning with two fingers in her pussy, scooping their loads, eating them, and waiting for Bruno to send her the next client she could beg to fuck.