Total pages in book: 184
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 880(@200wpm)___ 704(@250wpm)___ 587(@300wpm)
“You’re going to get me in so much shit if anyone sees this,” he grunts, and wrenches me towards him so my head is hanging over the back of his desk. My hair swishes as he jabs his whole fucking cock in my throat, the panty gag practically suffocating me, jammed so far back.
I feel captured by it, struggling to breathe as my drool spurts free. He thrusts, out of control, and I may be struggling and squirming, but I don’t fight him. I don’t want to.
That’s when I get the strangest sensation, my fingers still working my clit.
I want his hands around my throat, squeezing tight.
I want the headiness of fighting for breath for real as I come for him.
I try to cry out, encouraging him. He slams harder, and I keep going, wanting to make a noise.
“Shut up!” he snaps.
Make me. That’s what I want to say.
And he delivers. He jabs his cock right to the back of my throat, so I’m choked up by lace and his thick fucking dick, and his hands takes my throat, squeezing just enough to reinforce his power.
Then he stays there.
Pinning me, choking me, controlling me until I begin to thrash, but even through the gag and the pressure and the wave of panic, I’m smiling.
Holy fuck, I like this.
I’m almost disappointed when he releases his hold and pulls his cock out far enough that I can take a breath, coughing around the sodden lace.
“More please, Sir,” I manage to splutter, and he gives me another round of throat slammers, but no more choking. Just him, taking his pleasure as he uses me.
When he’s on the edge of the explosion he pulls his cock free and holds it high above my face. I adore looking up at his shaft as he’s about to spurt. I spit the panties far enough out that they drape across my cheek, a sopping wreck of lace. They must be so fucking filthy.
I come in sync with him, my clit sparking and pussy pulsing as he works his dick in his hand. He sprays his load in drips at first, splatting over my cheeks as well as my open mouth. Then come the jets. Lovely long spurts that cover my face in streams.
The gag doesn’t stop me moaning as I come. I’m like a fish on a hook, still clad in my posh office outfit, with my blouse unbuttoned and my tits covered in spit. Hardly a professional businesswoman. But that only makes it more exciting.
He tugs the panties totally free as I gulp in air. I shuffle back so my head is flat against his desk again, and then, finally, grouchy Mr Gregory meets my smile with one of his own. Game done and dusted.
“I thought I was going to choke you unconscious for a minute back there.”
I laugh. “So did I.”
“Sorry about that, got a little carried away.”
“No need to be sorry, I enjoyed it.”
He laughs back. “Death by panty fucking at SQW.”
I shrug. “I’m sure there are worse ways to go.”
He helps me up, and the room swirls for a few seconds while I reorientate. I sit on the edge of his desk and button my blouse back up, my face still covered in drool and cum. He holds up my used lace panties.
“May I keep these?”
I smirk. “Sure.”
“Thank you.”
I watch as he opens a desk drawer low down on the right, and observe that it’s already rammed full of used panties. I was right. He’s done this before. Plenty of times.
It feels almost sad to see my panty gag disappear amongst the masses.
He shoves his cock back in his suit trousers and straightens his tie.
“How did your meeting go?” I ask, and he smirks.
“Not as well as usual. You nearly had me.”
“Nearly. Hmm. I’ll try harder next time, hey?” I give him a cheeky wink. “If there is a next time.”
He takes my hand to ease me off his desk, since I’ve been rammed pretty hard.
“There will be a next time,” he says. “Don’t worry about that, Holly Jones. Your name is on the system now. You’ll have clearance to floor twelve whenever I call on it.”
I hope it’ll be soon.
He offers me a handkerchief to wipe my face clean, putting it in the drawer along with the panties once I hand it back.
“Do I look like I’ve been crying for ten hours straight?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“No. Just a bit red in the face. Your eyeliner held up surprisingly well.”
“I use waterproof.”
“Maybe don’t next time. I’d love to see the wreckage.”
“I’ll be sure to bring a pack of face wipes with me.”
It feels strange saying goodbye. Half business colleague in a posh office, half a stranger who stuffed my panties in my mouth and throat fucked me during a meeting.