A rather overwhelming event occurred in the offices of Riordan & McCall several days ago. This was a Friday evening when most of the office closes early, normally by 4:00 pm. I, on the other hand, decided to stay long past that hour, ordering in Chinese food from a nearby deli, planning to work as long as it took for me to finish my current project. The stillness in the office late at night revives my creative muse, which often struggles with the noise of copy machines, computer keyboards and the buzz of constant chatter. This can be a terribly social and chatty office.

My lover, JD¨ had been calling me daily for lengthy conversations about our lives, which made me feel as much attached to him as our two sexual encounters seduced me into wanting more. He’d even sent me flowers, a one of a kind bouquet of iris, peonies and delphiniums that I suspected he’d personally picked out. As I drank in their sweet perfume, I remembered another more remarkable scent–that of his flaccid penis, its sweat, cum and a smattering of masculine odors blending into a finer perfume than even these beautiful flowers could emitÆ So much about this man was perfect, and another evening of sexual bliss under the control of JD Barry had been on my mind since our night on the beach. He was certainly right when he said he preferred his sex life ‘out of the ordinary.’ I could hardly wait to find out what randy escapade he’d think of next. He had all the right moves to woo women–sexually and emotionally. He had me wooed, smitten and dangerously close to naming my feelings love. I stopped short of that, knowing that love couldn’t possibly be this easy.

That Friday afternoon, JD had taken off for a three-day business conference, which meant that I would have the weekend to myself. I was disappointed, but I would have to wait. With his return in mind, I decided to use the weekend to clear my schedule of as many projects as possible, so there would be nothing to interfere with his spontaneous plans. With my Chinese takeout in hand, I closed my office door behind me and began work, diving into a design project. I didn’t surface until after nine o’clock.

By then, my eyes hurt and my mind was a bit bleary. But I wasn’t yet ready to quit. Deciding to take a break, I closed the blinds along the bank of windows that looked out to the office beyond and then turned off the light. Sitting in a comfy reading chair I keep in my office for just such occasions, I stared out at the city lights, allowing my eyes to drift and my mind to wander. I think I dozed for a few minutes because I came to with a jerk, hearing odd sounds outside the room. The digital clock beamed 9:32.

I made no sudden moves, feeling initially afraid as I strained to hear what was going on. There were distinct voices, at least one I recognized, Mr. Cain’s, and the sound of footsteps in the corridor. I quietly moved from my chair to the windows and peeked through the blinds, seeing both account execs, Mr. Hardaway and Mr. Cain¨ with their secretary Honey between them, passing in front of me. She was dressed to ‘party’ in a skintight strapless tube dress that barely covered her breasts in front and ass in back. Every sumptuous curve of her tiny body was made glaringly obvious, nipples poking through fabric, the ‘V’ of her pubic mound rising and falling with her anxious breathing, even the indentation between her ass cheeks plainly visible.

My interest piqued. I suppose I was as interested in Honey as an object for my informal study as I was in their other sexy secretary, Elsa. Seeing Mr. Cain’s left hand covering almost all of Honey’s right buttock suggested that this event had a purpose other than business. I even saw him squeeze the delectable mound of flesh with a force that made her squirm uncomfortably.

They moved through the office area to the far end of the building and stopped at Mr. Cain’s office door. Then they disappeared from view behind a wall, out of sight.

Did I dare?

My curiosity was as roused as my sexual senses. I knew what was going on, I could feel their body heat attacking me, and I had to be there as a witness. Driven by the perverse thrill of seeing Honey sexually taken, I quietly exited my office and took a circuitous path through a maze of desks toward Mr. Cain’s private office. I arrived on the scene just opposite Cain’s office, and standing hidden behind a potted palm, I could clearly see into the room through its half-closed mini-blinds. Were they aware that they’d neglected to properly shut them? Or did they simply not care? Perhaps they assumed that no one would be in the office late on Friday night.

I suspected they were far too focused on Honey to worry over such details. Even the door was left partially open and I could clearly hear their conversation from my hiding place.

“You think we brought you here so you could spend your time on your own frivolous pleasures? Is that what you thought?” Mr. Cain lashed out angrily. “Quite the party girl, Honey, but a really stupid one.”
Honey stood between the two men, facing the office window, head slightly bowed, looking up at them through dark, wet lashes–coy, but not effective with these two.

“Let’s make things really clear in case you missed something in our agreement.” Cain went on. “You’re here for our pleasure and our use. No wasting this body of yours unless we arrange the date. Got that?”

Honey couldn’t answer.

“Maybe she needs that little demonstration we talked about before,” Mr. Hardaway suggested.
“I think so,” the other man agreed.

Mr. Hardaway moved forward, grabbing the top of Honey’s tube dress and yanking down to expose her naked tits, small pubescent titties, but probably all she’d ever have, unless they were surgically augmented.

Apparently, Mr. Cain was thinking the same thing. “You know, Dillon, after she’s made the rounds as the innocent slut and we can no longer pass her off that way, we’ll have to see that she gets these fixed.” He pulled on a nipple and jiggled the flesh behind it.

“Oh, but they are so pretty when they’re tiny,” Mr. Hardaway countered as he pulled the other nipple and stretched it taut.

Honey shrieked, her face pained. Her eyes seemed to glaze over when the man wouldn’t let go. “Hurts, huh?” he asked.

“Uhum…” she could barely emit a sound.

I watched as he twisted the nipple and her face contorted into a miserable grimace before he finally let go. He then ripped the rest of her dress down, making a puddle of red at her feet, which were still tucked inside five-inch patent leather heels.

A small triangle of dark hair covered her pussy cleft in a look that was both daintily juvenile and lurid. A little Lolita, sassy, provocative, gaudy, coy…I couldn’t be sure if she was truly frightened or enjoying the attention.

“I think it’s time to teach her a lesson,” Mr. Cain decided to move the scene along and I waited with great interest for it to proceed.

I watched him with some astonishment as the man quickly transformed his office into a torture chamber. Ringbolts in the walls to the right and left of where Honey stood were unveiled as Cain removed the pictures that hid them. The desk was pushed back, a chair pushed aside, and Honey’s wrists were quickly clamped with thick metal cuffs, her arms spread wide and attached with heavy chains to the eyebolts. She soon stood naked in heels, in the middle of an empty space with two men haughtily circling her, weapons in hand. They attacked her from both sides, front and back, Mr. Hardaway with a with wooden paddle spanking her ass, Mr. Cain with a leather quirt he used to flog her tits with what were sure to be brutally painful blows. Even from my vantage point, I could see the vicious marks the thing produced.

Honey wept, head bowed, body writhing in terror and pain. Moved by her horrible plight, I grasped the small pillar at my side, feeling every blow in my body. My hand moved to my crotch where I rubbed over top of my skirt. The vibration alone was enough to cause the first spasm of sexual desire rip through me.

When Honey raised her head, I could see the hurt in her eyes, but even more clearly, I saw the raw sensuality of her physical movements, deep shudders of miserable wonder, the excursion into a painful strike as if that hurt were a small victory, a moment of sweetest pleasure. She loved the battle and the pain, protesting with a viciousness that only seemed to raise the ire of her two men. She challenged them and they hurt her more. For a time, Mr. Cain tossed the quirt aside and took up small wooden paddle that he used to spank her pussy.

As Honey shrieked, I heard myself audibly gasp. I knew if I searched my panties, I’d find them sopping wet.

The poor girl fought the punishment with a violent temper, screaming profanities… “you fuckin’ assholes…m’fuckin blokes…damn Yankees…” and more words of scorn that got garbled with the sound of the smacks that punished her flesh. I knew that they had to stop soon; she could take little more. But then to my horrified shock, her rant changed from angry to lust-filled with a lurid sounding “Gawwd yessss!” venting from her lips as a passionate request for more.

“That’s it, slut,” Hardaway crooned as he gave her more, as he stopped spanking her and dropped the paddle, so his hand could rove the valley at her back. Though I couldn’t see for sure, I imagined that his fingers were prodding her asshole. Her head fell back as a silent scream lifted into the air. Cain continued to strike her pussy, which clearly wasn’t hurting her anymore. Then her body shook, arms legs, torso quaking with spasms of orgasmic pleasure. She had come and the tiny world inside the office fell silent, except for the final gasping moans of a satisfied woman.

While Mr. Hardaway unfastened her cuffs, Mr. Cain moved a padded bench into the middle of the open space. I had the feeling that this wasn’t the first time these men used the office for sexual purposes; the transformation took place so smoothly as if everything had all been thought out in advance, rehearsed or performed before.

Honey’s ass faced my line of vision. Her tight cheeks were scorched, the skin marred with violent ribbons of purple and pink, like heavy storm clouds at sunset. The bruising wouldn’t fade for days. The heat of it would burn her behind hours after in reminder. I recalled seeing Elsa’s behind similarly colored with pain, and remembered thinking the same thing that night I watched the slut from the alley.

Unlike Elsa’s night of punishment, Honey’s took a decidedly sexual twist. From out of nowhere a small dildo appeared in Mr. Cain’s hand. Swathed with lube, the surface gleamed, making even this modest dildo take on an ominous look.

When Honey looked back at the thing, her entire body seemed to revolt.

“Please, sir, I don’t think I can,” she woefully protested.

“Of course, you can. You’re going to have to eventually. And this one is small enough for even the tightest ass. He was right. I couldn’t imagine there being a problem with the small probe.
With a decided shove, Mr. Cain forced the dildo into her asshole. Honey’s body lunged forward and she nearly toppled off the bench, though she was forced back on her hands and knees by Mr. Hardaway’s guiding hand.

“There, is that so bad?”

“Oh, please. I just don’t…”

He smacked her ass.

“Take it, slut. You got your jollies, we’ll get ours now,” he said as he worked the thing in and out of her ass, her small tits jerked forward with each thrust.

Honey whimpered and noticeably flinched; her lips spit off some sassy profanity, but she finally settled until her entire being seemed to melt from the inside out.

“That’s it, baby,” Hardaway said pleased, confirming her sudden change of mood. I didn’t realize that his dick was already exposed and pushing at her mouth. Once she opened wide and began to suck, Mr. Cain slowly pulled the dildo out and mounted the bench behind her, fly open.

The man was positioned in front of me, so I couldn’t actually see him fuck her ass, but there was little question in my mind what was taking place. The two men picked up speed, pounding her at both ends with Honey struggling to keep up the pace, sucking, slurping, lapping at one end, wiggling her rear at the other end, while in the midst of the commotion, she seemed to be getting off herself.

I couldn’t stop my own physical response. With my hand already stroking my pussy through my skirt, I took the next step, raising my skirt enough so that I could get my hand inside my panties. Yes, they were soaked as was my hand. The abrupt explosion of hard grunting males made my own arousal spike. I came, trying desperately to mute the sound my lips seemed determined to spew forth.
The climax over, I slumped exhausted against the pillar. I opened my eyes again, seeing the threesome in Mr. Cain’s office disentangle.

Honey was pushed to the floor, Cain standing over her as he zipped his pants. He slapped her face, not brutally, but enough to establish who was in charge–as if she could possibly forget.
“You do anything that we don’t sanction, slut, you’ll be chained to your bed when you’re not working here. That clear?”

She nodded.

“You’re owned. This may be the land of freedom, but not for sluts like you and Elsa. Remember that the next time you’re tempted to step out of line. And you’d better tell your friend the same thing, although she seems to have a better understanding of what it means to submit.”

“Yes, sir.”

He chortled darkly. “You know, I could ship you back to England in a heart beat and where would you be then? That ugly prison would be lot worse than the one you have here.”

“I know, sir.”

“Good,” he nodded, his lip curling into a surly smile. “Makes me glad we had this little meeting tonight.” He turned to his friend. “Hardaway will take you home.” He threw her the dress, which was hardly more than a few inches of cloth. Honey rose to her feet and quickly wriggled her tiny body inside it, pulling the stretchy material over all the significant parts so she was reasonably presentable. Even so, one look at her, anyone could guess that she’d just had sex, hard sex. That kind of experience is not so easily tucked away like a body part. And with Honey, the fact was written in every line of her impish face.


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