Bimbo Fiction

The expression lasted less than a second.

A sharp discomfort immediately followed.

Her gaze locked onto her lipstick. The color seemed slightly faded. The realization became unbearable.

Without conscious thought, her hand reached into her purse. The familiar red tube slipped into her fingers. Relief washed over her before she had even uncapped it.

"There we go," she murmured softly. The lipstick glided across her lips. Back and forth.

Perfect.

The discomfort vanished instantly. A pleasant warmth spread through her chest. Fiona smiled. Then giggled.

The sound startled her.

For a brief moment she couldn't remember why. The giggle sounded airy. Not at all like the composed professional she remembered herself being. Or thought she remembered herself being. The distinction suddenly seemed important.

Then it slipped away.

Her eyes returned to the mirror.

Everything looked right again. A small pulse of satisfaction fluttered through her. Fiona blinked slowly.

What had she been thinking about?

Something that had seemed important a moment ago.

She could feel the shape of the thought lingering just beyond reach. The more she yearned for it, the more distant it became.

Her attention shifted to her reflection.

Another touch of lipstick might help. A little more mascara too. The thought felt wonderfully reasonable.

She smiled brightly.

Now she looked exactly the way she was supposed to look.

The comforting certainty settled over her mind.

For several seconds she simply admired her reflection.

Then she giggled once more.

She had remembered that she was meeting someone today. Someone who always smiled when she looked her best. The realization filled her with a warm anticipation. Fiona snapped the compact shut and rose from her chair.

Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor. A small smile tugged at her lips with every step.

She glanced around the empty waiting room.

It seemed like an ordinary office lobby, save for its immaculate condition. The polished floors and white leather furniture were so pristine that she wondered if they had ever been used.

Fiona had arrived a quarter of an hour ago. She hadn't seen anyone since.

She had felt certain of the exact time of the meeting. Yet she hadn't remembered how she had scheduled the appointment or even what it had involved.

It had to do with something that harlot Giselle was working on. Frowning, she tried to think about it.

The compact clapped open immediately. Her gaze snapped to the mirror.

More eyeshadow.

That's what she needed.

She reached for her cosmetics. A moment later she had the small case open.

Fiona smiled as she applied a little extra powder to the corners of her eyelids. She could feel herself relaxing as she did.

When she finished she examined herself carefully in the small mirror.

Her mouth turned down in displeasure. The lipstick seemed faded again. She shook her head slightly as she reached for the red tube.

She could barely contain the feeling of well being as the waxy substance passed over her lips.

A delicious sound escaped through those luscious pillows. They looked so plump. So full.

Fiona ran her tongue slowly over them, savoring the sensation. They seemed a touch swollen.

The realization caused a small tingle to pass through her.

A moment later she heard the door open.

Euphemia, her secretary, had entered. She wore a tight combination of leather that pressed those delightful curves in ways that left Fiona's mouth dry.

The younger woman had her hair dyed into a shocking pink. But it looked perfect with the makeup she wore. Fiona had to blink a few times.

She could have sworn that Euphemia despised to look so, slutty.

The woman's hips rolled in an exaggerated way as she approached.

Fiona's eyes were drawn to those hips as the secretary moved, the way her body rolled and twisted had her licking her lips, unconsciously, her hand already reaching for the tube of lipstick that was always with her.

"Good morning, bitch," the woman said in a breathy tone that sounded strange to the older woman.

She nodded, her thoughts a whirlwind of confused ideas. "Thank you, darling" she murmured softly.

A flicker of confusion appeared in Euphemia's eyes. But before another word left the secretary she reached into her brassiere and took out a familiar compact.

Fiona shivered. Something about these mirrors wad wrong. She had to - put another layer on her lips. That's all she really needed to do.

Both women looked at the mirror and then they were staring at each other's mouths. "My lips look too pale," said Euphemia in a low breathy voice. She reached for the lipstick. Fiona watched, fascinated as the younger woman's tongue flicked over those black lips. Fiona felt an almost uncontrollable urge to kiss them. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. What had just happened? She couldn't quite remember.

"You're looking like a fine fuck, bitch" the secretary purred as she put her compact away and Fiona's eyes returned to those painted black lips, mesmerized. "We'll need you looking your best for today's meeting."

"Of course, darling," Fiona replied distractedly. "We need to look the best for Giselle."

Euphemia smiled and licked those lips again, a gesture which sent shivers down Fiona's spine. The older woman had no idea what she was doing, or why, but the thought was so appealing she could not help herself. As Euphemia turned to leave, Fiona caught her wrist.

Euphemia raised her eyebrow inquisitively and glanced at Fiona.

"I-I want to taste," Fiona began, but the rest of her sentence was lost in the soft press of the other woman's lips.

Their tongues tangled together in an exquisite dance. Euphemia sucked on her lips greedily, leaving her breathless and weak in the knees. When they broke the kiss, Euphemia giggled at the expression of pure bliss that crossed the older woman's face. She traced her fingers over the swollen, red lips and grinned wickedly. "Now you have to do all the makeup again, bitch." The thought seemed to send shivers through the older woman and Fiona smiled widely. The prospect of reapplying makeup seemed positively thrilling.

Euphemia giggled again and turned to leave the office, her hips rolling in a seductive sway.

Fiona returned to the compact mirror and stared into its depths.

Without thoughts she started applying layers and layers of makeup to her face, painting over everything unseemly.

***

Giselle looked at the two women who had entered her little corner of the business.

They were a treat to the eye. Fiona had a body that had aged like a fine wine. Her curves, her long legs and that magnificent cleavage. Her face had been covered with layers of makeup that made her look delicious. And definitely more like a slutty parody of her usual professional self.

Giselle could feel herself getting aroused by just looking at her.

Then there was Euphemia. That young, vibrant creature with the perfect little ass and her perky breasts, just asking to be played with, looked like she stepped right out of some punk or goth porn. All black makeup, black clothes and a shock of pink hair.

Giselle didn't think that her compacts would be that strong. Or maybe she had underestimated the desire in those women to look more slutty. To become the perfect playthings for her and her clients.

"There are going to be some changes around here," Giselle said with her sweetest smile.

"What kind of changes?" asked Fiona. Her eyes were slightly unfocused as if she had been drinking all day. A strand of saliva ran down the side of her mouth. She giggled as she wiped at it with a fingertip. "We've been busy."

"Yes, I know. You've worked hard." Giselle's voice dripped honey and venom in equal measure. "And that's exactly why change is needed. First, Fiona, I want every employee to have a compact."

"I'll make sure everyone gets one." The woman nodded obediently, licking her lips.

Giselle's eyes sparkled dangerously. She turned her gaze to Euphemia, who was standing quietly next to her. "Second point, Euphemia, I want some changes done to the internal messaging system. It should reflect our new business model: Luscious Lips and Slutty Sex," Giselle announced grandly. Her voice had a lilting quality to it that seemed to mesmerize the two women before her.

"Yes, mistress." The young woman smiled, licking her lips. Her tongue flicked over them suggestively.

"And finally," Giselle's eyes narrowed slightly. "You two tarts are making me wet. I need some, entertainment." Her hand slipped down between her thighs.

Euphemia and Fiona exchanged looks, then nodded in unison. Their expressions became lascivious and hungry as they knelt before her.

Giselle smiled wickedly, spreading her legs wider. "Good girls." Her hand dipped beneath the waistband of her panties, finding the wet warmth within. "Let's begin, shall we?"

"Yes, Mistress." The two women spoke simultaneously, their voices dripping with lust.

Giselle leaned back, enjoying the marks their plump pillow lips left on her flesh.

Kyle stared. "You're the genie?"

"Did I stutter?" Lexi rolled her eyes—actually rolled them, like he was the idiot here. "Yes, I'm the genie. What, you expected some big blue guy with Robin Williams energy? Ew. This isn't 1992, grandpa. We rebranded."

She snapped her fingers and a phone appeared in her hand. She started scrolling, barely looking at him.

"So, like, what do you want? Make it quick. I have, like, other clients." She didn't look up. "And before you ask for more wishes—no. That's, like, the most basic bitch wish. Be original."

Kyle sat up, suddenly interested. A hot genie who could grant wishes? This was—

"I wish women could see me for who I really am."

Lexi stopped scrolling. She looked up. And then—slowly, deliberately—she smiled.

It wasn't a nice smile.

"Oh my god," she breathed, and her eyes lit up with something that looked almost like hunger. "That is, like, such a good wish."

"Yeah?"

"Yessss." She popped her gum, leaning forward, and her tits strained against the PRINCESS shirt. "You want them to really see you? Not just the cock? Not just the muscles? You want them to see the real Kyle?"

"Exactly." Kyle nodded, feeling validated for the first time in weeks. "Finally, someone gets it."

"Baby, I totally get it." Lexi stood up, stretching, and her crop top rode up to show a flat, tanned stomach with a tiny diamond piercing. "You know what your problem is, Kyle?"

"What?"

She stepped closer. Close enough that he could smell her—vanilla and something sweeter, something that made his head swim. She leaned down, her lips inches from his ear.

"You think you're the main character." She giggled, breath warm against his skin. "But you're not. You're, like, barely a supporting role."

"What the fuck is that supposed to—"

"Shh." She pressed a pink nail to his lips. "I've got you, bestie. I'm gonna give you exactly what you asked for."

She snapped her fingers.

Pink smoke exploded around him, and Lexi's laughter echoed in his ears—high and bratty and cruel.

"Good luck with your new life, loser! 💋"

---

Kyle woke up to the worst feeling of his life.

Something was wrong. His crotch felt—light. Empty. He reached down, half-asleep, and his hand found—

Nothing.

Not nothing. But close.

Kyle threw back the covers and stared down at his dick. Or what was left of it. His beautiful, perfect, ten-inch monster was gone. In its place was the most pathetic little nub he'd ever seen—maybe an inch, if he was generous, poking out from his pubic hair like a frightened worm.

"LEXI!" he screamed. "LEXI, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?"

Pink smoke curled from nowhere, and suddenly she was there again—sitting on his desk, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone.

"Ugh, what?" She didn't look up. "I'm busy."

"Look at me!"

She glanced over. Looked down at his crotch. And burst out laughing.

"Oh my god," she wheezed, slapping her thigh. "It's so tiny. It's like—like a little baby carrot. That is, like, hilarious."

"You took my cock!"

"I did not." She hopped off the desk, still giggling, and bent down to examine his micro-dick with theatrical fascination. "I granted your wish, bestie. You wanted women to see you for who you really are." She straightened up, popping her gum. "So I took away the thing that was distracting them. You're welcome."

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"Okay, but that's what you said." She shrugged, examining her nails again. "Words have, like, consequences. Didn't your English 101 teach you anything?"

"Take it back! Give me my cock back!"

"Um, no?" She looked at him like he'd asked her to do calculus. "I literally said no take-backs. It's, like, the first thing I told you. Were you not listening?"

"I wasn't—I didn't think—"

"Clearly." She rolled her eyes. "Look, Kyle. You wanted women to see the real you. And the real you?" She leaned in, smiling sweetly. "Is a guy with a tiny dick who has nothing to offer. No personality. No charm. Just a big cock and an ego problem. And now..." She reached down and flicked his micro-dick with one pink nail. "You don't even have the cock."

She was gone before he could respond.

---

Across the room, Eric's bed was empty. Must've gone for early classes.

Kyle's phone buzzed. A text from Kaylee, the Tri-Delt who'd been begging him to come over:

hey big boy, still want to come over tonight? 😏

Big boy. The words mocked him.

---

Eric came home that afternoon, and Kyle knew immediately that something was different.

The nerd walked differently. Shoulders back. Chin up. There was a bulge in his jeans that—holy shit—looked like he was hiding a fucking cucumber in there.

"Kyle," Eric said, and even his voice was deeper. Richer. "What's up, man?"

"What the fuck happened to you?"

Eric smirked—actually smirked, the confident bastard—and dropped his backpack on his bed. "I don't know, man. Woke up feeling... different. Like everything just clicked." He adjusted himself through his jeans, and Kyle heard the unmistakable sound of something heavy shifting. "Really different."

He knew then what Lexi had done. She'd given Eric his cock. She'd swapped them!

Kyle watched his former nerd roommate stretch, his new bulk straining against his too-tight shirt, and felt something he'd never felt before.

Insignificance.

---

The first time Kyle heard Eric fucking a girl, it was Kaylee.

Of course it was Kaylee.

She'd come over looking for Kyle, but Eric had answered the door shirtless—showing off his new body, the one that had apparently come with muscles and the ten-inch cock that used to belong to Kyle—and within ten minutes she was in Eric's bed.

"Oh my god—"

Kyle sat on his own bed, back against the wall, listening to every sound through the thin dorm wall.

"Eric—fuck—you're so fucking BIG—"

The same words. The same fucking words she would've said to him. But now she was saying them to Eric. To the nerd who'd never even kissed a girl until today.

Kyle looked down at his tiny dick—hard now, all one pathetic inch of it—and wrapped his fingers around it. His thumb and forefinger overlapped. He started to stroke, but there was barely anything to grip.

In the next room, Kaylee was screaming. "Don't stop—oh god—don't ever stop—"

Kyle came in thirty seconds. A single, watery drop that oozed out of his micro-dick and pooled on his stomach.

He lay there, listening to Eric make Kaylee cum three more times, and for the first time in his life, Kyle Mitchell felt what it was like to be a nobody.

---

He tried summoning Lexi again.

He opened the app, typed I WISH TO UNDO MY WISH, and hit send.

Pink smoke. She appeared, sitting on his pillow, filing her nails.

"No."

"I didn't even ask yet!"

"You were going to." She blew on her nails. "And the answer's no. You got one wish. You used it. That's, like, the rules."

"You twisted my words!"

"Um, I interpreted your words." She looked up, smirking. "There's a difference. You said you wanted women to see the real you. I made it so the real you is all there is." She hopped off the bed, stretching. "You're welcome, by the way. Most people don't get to be so... authentic."

"I hate you."

"Aww." She patted his cheek, her pink nails scraping lightly against his stubble. "That's, like, so not my problem." She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "But between you and me? This is way more entertaining than giving you what you actually wanted."

She vanished, leaving only the scent of bubblegum and the sound of her laughter.

---

It got worse.

Within a week, Eric was the new king of Sigma Chi. Girls who'd ignored him for three years were suddenly finding excuses to "study" in his room. Brittany. Madison. That hot redhead from Pi Phi whose name Kyle could never remember. They all wanted a turn with the nerd's new equipment.

And Kyle?

Kyle was invisible.

"Hey, have you seen Eric?" Brittany asked, poking her head into their room. She looked right through Kyle like he was furniture.

"He's at the gym," Kyle muttered.

"Ugh, thanks!" She bounced away, and Kyle caught her texting someone—probably spreading the word about Eric's cock like it was the second coming.

Nobody wanted Kyle anymore. Why would they? He was still decent-looking, sure, but without the cock, he was just another frat bro with nothing to offer. Girls didn't laugh at his jokes anymore. They didn't pretend to care about his opinions. They didn't even look at him.

One night, drunk and desperate, he tried to hit on a sophomore at a party. She looked at his crotch—always the crotch first—and then back up at his face.

"Sorry," she said, not even trying to hide her disappointment. "You're, like... not my type."

She walked away. Toward Eric.

---

A month later, Kyle was sitting in his room—always in his room now, since he had nowhere else to go—listening to Eric pound some freshman named Tiff.

"Yes—yes—YES—" Tiff was screaming, and the headboard was slamming against the wall so hard the pictures were shaking.

Kyle's tiny dick was hard again. It was always hard now—pathetic and desperate and completely useless. He wrapped his fingers around it and started stroking, his other hand cupping his shriveled little balls.

In the next room, Eric laughed. "You like that, slut?"

"Love it—oh god—I love your big cock—"

Kyle came. One drop. Watery and sad.

He lay there in the dark, listening to Tiff cum for the third time, and thought about the wish. About what he'd really wanted. About how he'd thought "seeing him for who he really was" meant they'd appreciate his personality.

But Lexi knew the truth.

Who Kyle really was—under the cock, under the confidence, under the swagger—was just another insecure little boy with nothing to offer.

And now everyone could see it.

---

Pink smoke curled at the edge of his vision.

"Hey, loser."

Kyle didn't even flinch anymore. "What do you want, Lexi?"

She was sitting on his desk again, legs crossed, sucking on a lollipop—cherry red, matching her nails. She looked... satisfied. Like a cat who'd caught a particularly entertaining mouse.

"Just checking in." She pulled the lollipop out with a pop. "How's the whole 'being seen for who you really are' thing working out?"

"Fuck you."

"Pass." She swung her legs, looking around the room with that same disgusted expression. "You know, I've done, like, a lot of wishes. And yours was, like, top five most satisfying to grant." She smiled—sweet and vicious. "You really thought you were something special, didn't you? You thought if they just looked past the cock, they'd see some deep, interesting guy underneath."

She hopped down and walked over to him, her heels clicking on the floor. She bent down, her face inches from his.

"But there's nothing there, Kyle. Under the cock, you're just... empty. A pretty shell with nothing inside." She patted his cheek. "And now everyone knows it."

She was gone before he could respond.

---

Kyle sat alone in the dark, his tiny dick soft and useless in his hand, listening to the sounds of his roommate—his roommate—fucking the girl who should've been his.

And somewhere, in whatever dimension bratty genies lived, Lexi was filing her nails and thinking about how delightfully entertaining the whole thing had been.

The gauntlet slid onto her hand like it had been made for her. Cold became warm. Warm became right. Power hummed through her bones—ancient, patient, hungry.

"Bette!" Mira scrambled forward. "Take it off! Please!"

"Stop—" Bette's voice caught. The gauntlet tightened. Not painfully. Possessively. "Stop telling me what to do."

The door exploded inward.

The thing that entered had been a woman once. Maybe. Now it was grey flesh and exposed ribs and eyes that burned with mindless hunger. It lunged at Bette with a shriek—

And she caught it by the throat.

Without thinking. Without effort.

The creature thrashed in her grip. She could feel its dead pulse against her palm. Could feel the wrongness of it—and deeper still, the thread of dark magic that animated it. A thread that led back to something. Someone.

Back to her.

"Easy," she murmured. The creature went limp. Obedient. "That's it. Good girl."

Mira made a sound like she'd been punched. "Bette... your eyes..."

Bette turned. The tomb's dim light caught her face—and the cold, cruel smile spreading across it.

"What about them?"

"They're... they're black, Bette. Completely black. Please—you have to take that thing off—"

Another creature appeared in the doorway. Then another. Then three more. A whole horde of dead things pouring into the tomb, surrounding them both—

Bette raised her hand.

They stopped. Every single one. Frozen mid-shamble, heads bowed like penitents before an altar.

They're mine, she realised. All of them. The whole labyrinth. Every dead thing in it.

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. Somewhere that hadn't existed five minutes ago. It spilled out—high and wild and wrong.

"Bette!" Mira grabbed her arm. "Bette, please! This isn't you!"

"Isn't it?" Bette looked at her friend—really looked at her. Mira: small and soft and scared. Always scared. Always following, never leading. Never taking. "Maybe this is who I always was. Maybe I just needed—"

She reached for the second gauntlet.

"—permission."

"BETTE!"

The metal sang as it slid home. Both hands now. Both arms wrapped in black iron that pulsed with something like a heartbeat. Something like desire.

She reached for the breastplate.

Don't, some small voice whispered—the Bette who'd been afraid of everything. The Bette who'd hidden behind Mira's shadow. The Bette who'd never been anyone at all. Don't do this. You're still yourself. You can still—

The breastplate clicked into place.

Mmmmmh.

Her spine cracked. Lengthened. Her body stretched like taffy pulled over flame—five-six, five-eight, six feet, six-two, six-six—as her skeleton rewrote itself. Her hips popped and widened with a wet sound. Her breasts swelled against the cold metal, flesh overflowing the edges of her now-perfectly-fitted armour. Her hair darkened from mousy brown to black as midnight, spilling over her shoulders in a cascade that seemed to drink the dim light.

Her skin went pale as marble. Her lips went red as sin.

"Gods," Mira breathed. "Bette... you're..."

"I'm not Bette anymore." Her voice had changed—deeper, richer, a sound that could command armies or break hearts. She ran her hands down her new body, feeling the impossible curves, the strength coiled in every inch. "Bette died in this tomb. Something better crawled out."

She picked up the greaves. The faulds. Each piece clicked into place like a key in a lock—and with each one, another piece of Bette crumbled away. Another inch of fear replaced by certainty. Another scrap of kindness consumed by hunger.

The iron crown sat on the plinth where the gauntlets had been. Simple. Brutal. A circle of black metal with points like thorns.

Mira threw herself forward. "No! I won't let you—"

Bette caught her by the throat with one armoured hand. Lifted her off her feet without effort.

"Let me?" She tilted her head, studying her former friend like a bug. "You were never in a position to let me do anything, little mouse. You just didn't know it."

"Bette..." Mira clawed at the iron grip. Tears streamed down her face. "Please... I love you... you're my best friend..."

Something flickered in those black eyes. A ghost of the girl who'd held Mira's hand when they were children. Who'd shared bread and secrets and dreams of escaping their nothing village.

Love, the ghost whispered. Friendship. Don't you remember—

Bette placed the crown on her head.

The ghost screamed once and fell silent.

"Love," the Bitch Queen repeated, tasting the word like wine turned to vinegar. "How quaint."

She squeezed.

The crack echoed through the tomb like thunder.

Mira's body dropped to the floor—limp, broken, dead. The Queen studied it for a moment, then extended her hand. Dark magic pulsed—a thread of power connecting her to every corpse in the labyrinth.

Mira's eyes opened. Black as her Queen's. Empty. Waiting.

"Rise, my sweet." The Queen smiled. "You'll serve me better this way."

---

They came at midnight.

The town slept soundly behind its wooden walls, dreaming safe little dreams in safe little beds. No one saw the dead things pouring from the cemetery gates. No one heard the rattle of bones and the shuffle of rotting feet.

No one except the Queen.

She rode at the head of her army—not walking, but carried. A throne of bones and black iron borne aloft by a dozen shambling corpses. Her armour gleamed in the moonlight. Her crown drank the stars. Dark magic crackled around her like lightning, like hunger, like destiny.

The first scream came from the east gate.

Then the north.

Then everywhere at once.

The Bitch Queen threw back her head and laughed—wild and free and evil—as the town that had never mattered began to burn.

She was the Queen now.

And everyone would know it.

Neither of them had been expecting company.

She glanced across the living room toward Yuriko, who sat curled on the couch with a glass of iced tea balanced on her knee.

"Did you order something?" Christina asked.

Yuriko looked equally confused.

"No."

The answer came immediately.

Christina shrugged. Probably a delivery for another apartment. Mistakes happened all the time. Still, someone had to answer the door.

She rose from her chair and crossed the apartment. The steady clack of her heels echoed through the hallway.

The sound made her smile despite herself.

She still wasn't entirely sure why she owned the shoes. Or why both she and Yuriko had somehow ended up dressed as though they were headed for a high-end nightclub rather than spending a quiet evening at home.

Yet somehow neither of them had questioned it very much. Christina certainly hadn't. The fitted dress looked fantastic on her. The heels made her feel confident.

And if the outfit happened to draw attention whenever she went outside? That wasn't exactly a downside. The thought brought another faint smile to her lips.

She reached the apartment door and unlocked it.

The moment it opened, a powerful odor drifted inside.

Christina recoiled instinctively.

The smell was awful. Stale sweat and old clothes mixed with a sour stench. Her hand immediately began pushing the door closed again. Then a rough, unpleasant voice spoke.

The man standing in the hallway said something.

Christina couldn't quite make out the words.

For a brief moment she wondered if he had an accent. Or perhaps the hallway's acoustics distorted the sound.

Whatever the reason, the sentence reached her ears strangely.

Fragments arrived. Pieces without meaning. Yet somehow the tone carried through perfectly. Warm. Gentle. Reassuring.

The sensation hit her unexpectedly.

Like sinking into a comfortable chair after a long day.

The urge to slam the door vanished.

The tension in her shoulders eased. Confusion flickered through her. That didn't make any sense.

The man looked exactly like the sort of stranger she normally avoided. Yet the calm spreading through her chest felt undeniable.

Behind her, Yuriko called out.

"Who is it?"

Christina opened her mouth. For a second she wasn't sure how to answer.

Because despite staring directly at the visitor, she suddenly realized she couldn't clearly remember what he looked like.

Only that listening to him felt strangely pleasant.

The man spoke again.

And this time Christina found herself nodding along.

"Just a delivery I forgot," she called back over her shoulder.

A hand grabbed her breasts. The motion startled her. The stranger had moved so quietly and quickly she never even realized it.

He squeezed hard. Fingers digging in.

A gasp wanted to escape her, but as she inhaled the strong musk overwhelmed her senses. Her eyes fluttered for a moment as a warm rush passed through her. She arched her back and pushed her chest into the hands groping her body.

The door clicked shut.

The sound was far away. Distant.

His voice flowed through her again. She nodded as her mouth fell open. A soft sigh emerged.

His fingers plucked her nipples. The stiff peaks ached from how hard they were. Her pussy felt the same. The thong she wore rubbed between puffy, swollen lips.

Her cunt felt soaked. Needy. Aching.

The man's hands left her breasts and dropped to his fly.

Christina blinked slowly.

The sight barely seemed real to her.

She was standing in her own hallway. Letting herself get groped.

The situation should have been shocking. Distressing.

Instead it all felt perfect. Right. As though it were exactly where she should be. What she should be doing.

The visitor spoke again. She sank to her knees, mouth wide open.

The thick, throbbing cock bobbing in front of her face looked deliciously suckable. The musk coming from it nearly made her swoon. She leaned forward.

Her lips closed over the shaft and began slowly bobbing. She swirled her tongue over the tip and felt her mouth water in anticipation. She moaned softly.

Her hand dropped down. Slipped between her legs. Fingers began rubbing. The slick material covering her soaked cunt clung to her body.

The visitor said something.

Christina bobbed eagerly, pushing the shaft deep into her throat.

Her fingers pressed more urgently. Rubbing her throbbing clit. Pleasure built in her core. She moaned around the cock stuffed in her mouth. Her lips and tongue worshipped the shaft. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked greedily.

The visitor's hands found her head. He pushed his length further down her throat. His voice sounded in her ears, praising her skillfully slutty cocksucking.

She whimpered happily around his shaft.

The man thrust into her mouth without care. His voice filled the apartment with warm reassurance.

She couldn't make sense of his words. The more he spoke, the less she cared. She wanted to keep sucking him. To make him feel good. Her tongue caressed and worshipped him as he used her.

It seemed like an eternity of bliss. The shaft plunged in and out, making her jaw ache. Her mouth felt wonderfully full.

Her hand pressed between her legs. She rubbed and rubbed, her fingers slipping under the sodden material and into her sopping pussy.

Thick warmth filled her. Splattered her throat. The cum hit her taste buds. Her tongue tried to wrap around the cock pumping the hot, salty liquid into her belly.

She swallowed repeatedly. Trying not to lose a single drop. She sucked on the throbbing length. Eager to please. Her fingers rubbed harder.

Her hips began twitching.

The visitor spoke. Christina moaned in despair around the thick shaft. His words demanded she did not cum.

Her body shook. She desperately tried to ignore her throbbing cunt. The heat built in her core, and her clit ached.

He left her mouth with a loud pop. And left her trembling on her knees in the entrance. She couldn't move. She only heard Yuriko's surprised gasp. And listened how it transformed into a desperate moan. Christina's hand was trapped in her panties, still teasing her aching slit.

She heard how Yuriko's body landed on the table. And how he entered her from behind. How he fucked her. How Yuriko moaned as her ass was claimed by the stranger.

"Please," Christina whimpered quietly. "Please. Please."

Her cunt twitched and ached. Begging to release. But she couldn't allow it. Not until she had permission.

Yuriko's screams of pleasure reached her ears.

"Please."

The visitor's voice said something, but she couldn't hear the words clearly over Yuriko's loud whines and moans of ecstasy. But the tone was clear. Yuriko couldn't cum either.

He fucked Yuriko for what felt like an eternity. The sounds were maddening. She wanted to be fucked like that too. Her pussy felt like it was on fire.

The noises stopped abruptly.

Trembling Christina stood up. She sashayed back into the living room. Her hand still between her legs.

There she saw Yuriko. Bend over the table. Cum dripped out of her used asshole.

The visitor sat in the armchair. His cock glistening.

His lips moved. And Christina's world grew dark.

***

Christina and Yuriko both jumped slightly as the doorbell rang. Their kiss broken, only a thick string of saliva connecting them, the two lovers blinked and looked at each other. The sound of their heavy breathing filled the otherwise quiet living room. They looked confused, unsure if they had heard the doorbell at all, as though it didn't quite belong to reality.

The bell rang again and this time there was no denying it.

"Did you order something?" asked Christina as she reached for a strap of her top.

Yuriko shook her head and looked towards the front door. Her eyes were glazed over and unfocused, and a small line of saliva dribbled down from the corner of her mouth.

"No," she replied, "I don't know who it could be."

Christina shrugged. It was probably just a delivery guy, but someone had to answer it.

"I'll be right back, babe." she said before giving Yuriko a peck on the cheek and standing up from the couch. As she walked to the front door, the soft click-clacking sound of her high-heeled sandals echoed in the empty apartment. It made her feel sexy and slutty. It always did.

Neither Yuriko nor her wore anything else other than a skimpy lingerie, and Christina knew her lover liked it that way. She reached for the door and opened it with a smile, expecting to find the delivery man holding some random package that didn't belong to them, but her smile froze when a strong sour stench claimed her mind. It was the stench of sweat, grime and musk.

It was the smell of their owner.

Without hesitation she fell to her knees. Mouth open and ready. Tongue sticking out and hands behind her back, just as she had been taught. Just like a proper whore.

The Master spoke. The words made no sense. She could hear the tones and inflections of words, but the meaning of what he said eluded her. It was alright though, she didn't really care. It wasn't important, she was a fucktoy, a cum dumpster. It didn't matter if she understood his words, only that she obeyed.

Without a pause his throbbing shaft thrust into her cunt-mouth. Christina eagerly closed her lips around the shaft and moaned as she began to suck.

It felt wonderful. The thick length of meat pushed deep into her throat, the girthy shaft bulging out her throat obscenely. Her Master grabbed her head and started fucking it like a pussy. Christina loved it. It made her feel useful, like a proper fucktoy. Her purpose was to please him, after all, to serve him in any way he wished.

Christina could feel her Master's cock swelling up as she slurped it. Her tongue lashed and licked all over it, as the fat cock head pushed further and further down her slutty throat. Christina knew what was going to happen. The moment of pure bliss when she could finally swallow down his salty spunk was almost there.

His glorious seed filled her up. It flooded her throat and mouth and dribbled out from her lips to stain her pretty lingerie top.

She swallowed what she could, her eyes rolled back from the pure pleasure of serving, and then he withdrew. His shaft popped out from her lips, splattering her face with cum, and leaving her kneeling there with an aching, empty pussy-mouth and a desperate desire for more. Her Master walked past her and went straight to Yuriko. Christina remained kneeling there, a smile on her cum covered face.

Her lover didn't even have a chance to say anything before he had her bend over the table.

Her screams were like music. They were the screams of a proper fuckdoll in use. A cock-sleeve that served its Master to perfection.

Christina listened to them intently as she drooled down the rest of her top.

She didn't notice how long Yuriko pleased their owner. But once Christina heard him finish, she rose and walked to the living room. There, Yuriko laid bent over the table with cum dribbling down from her asshole.

The Master looked at her as she approached him.

His cock stood proud, throbbing and covered in juices, just as she liked. Christina didn't say a thing, she just fell to her knees, and with the same position as before, took that cock in her throat. His words flowed through her. And her world grew dark.

***

Christina and Yuriko both jumped slightly as the doorbell rang. Thick strands of saliva connected their lips. Christina groped one last time at the heavy, round breasts of her girlfriend before the two women separated from the couch. The two lovers blinked and looked at each other confused as the sound of their heavy breathing filled the living room.

"Did you order something?" Christina breathed, naked, plastic filled globes bounced and swayed. The woman grabbed her heels from the side and slipped them on her feet, transforming into the perfect example of a slut.

Yuriko shook her head as her chest rose and fell with her breaths, the round melons moving up and down rhythmically. "No, I don't know who it could be." she replied, her eyes glazed over, barely focused on reality.

Squeezing one last time Yuriko's fake boobs, Christina stood up. Her nine-inch heeled boots clicked loudly as she left the living room.

The doorbell rang once again. "I'll be right back, babe," she called to Yuriko. Christina strode confidently down the hall, her hips swaying, and her fake tits jiggling with every step. She loved the slutty, artificial look of her body, and so did her girlfriend. Reaching for the door, Christina unlocked and opened it.

Her owner's glorious fragrance hit her nose and mind instantly.

She fell to her knees without a thought, mouth open and ready. Tongue sticking out and hands behind her back, just as a proper cumdumpster.

He used her well trained cum hole with vigor. A well placed cock stuffed her mouth to the brim and her lips wrapped themselves tightly around his veiny shaft.

His voice was heavenly as he called her a dirty fuckhole, and a slutty cocksheath. And the warm, viscous, sticky cum filled her cunt-mouth, just as he called her his perfect cocksucker.

She could not be happier. It was pure bliss. He was using her as a fucktoy should be used. She had a place in this world, she had a reason for being, and that reason was to pleasure her master.

With a loud pop he left her cunt mouth and walked into the apartment.

She intendly listened as her lover's moaning and squealing filled the room.

Her cunt twitched and ached with every sound of flesh slapping flesh, every scream of blissful agony as Yuriko was pounded into oblivion. It drove her wild. Her nipples stood on full attention. And the throbbing need in her loins grew with each passing second.

When Yuriko's beautiful song of submission ended, Christina stood up.

Her heels clicked as she entered the room. There on the couch Yuriko lay with her ass in the air and cum leaking from her gaping asshole.

Her owner was sitting in his favorite chair, the cum-covered cock bobbing with every heartbeat. And Christina knew exactly what to do.

She knelt between his spread legs. And started to rub her tits around the throbbing shaft. She pushed the fat cock between her massive mounds and used her fake breasts to massage and pleasure her owner.

She was in heaven.

His shaft throbbed as she squeezed it between her tits.

She loved the feel of it as she stroked it and lapped at the tip with every thrust.

The smell, taste, and texture of it drove her mad with lust.

And the knowledge that she could bring her owner pleasure, filled her with an indescribable sense of happiness and fulfillment.

She looked into his dark empty eyes as his mouth moved. And her world grew dark.

***

Christina stood in front of the apartment door with an empty smile. She knew that on a couch in the living room sat Yuriko with a similar expression.

She couldn't remember when the last time was they said anything to each other. Or left their home for anything else but finding inferior dick to suck and fuck.

Sandra tightened her grip on the folder under her arm as she crossed the office floor.

Chris.

Even thinking the name irritated her.

The man looked like every warning sign a professional organization should avoid. His wrinkled shirts, perpetually unkempt hair, and complete disregard for personal hygiene made Sandra wonder how he'd ever accumulated enough money to buy a vending machine, let alone an entire corporation.

The smell alone was enough to make her avoid the executive wing whenever possible.

Yet somehow he now owned the company.

Sandra's heels clicked sharply against the polished floor as she approached the executive offices.

Then she saw Glynda.

The sight made her stomach sink.

The woman sat at a small desk outside Chris' office, hands folded neatly in front of her. She wasn't working. Sandra wasn't even sure there was any work assigned to her anymore. She just sat there. Always smiling. The expression never seemed to leave her face.

Sandra hated it.

She remembered the old Glynda. The kind of woman who could silence a boardroom with a single glance.

The woman sitting outside Chris's office barely resembled that person anymore. Even her appearance had changed.

Gone were the practical suits and restrained professionalism. Now everything seemed brighter. Softer. More conspicuous. As though someone had taken every instinct Glynda once possessed and replaced it with an entirely different set.

Sandra slowed. For a brief moment she considered turning around. Then Glynda noticed her. The smile widened instantly.

"Oh!" Glynda giggled. Actually giggled. Sandra felt a chill run through her. The sound still felt wrong coming from her former boss.

"G-Go in," Glynda said cheerfully, panting heavily. "Chris is totally ready for you, Sandy."

Sandra froze. The old Glynda would have considered nicknames in the workplace unprofessional. Now she said it as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Sandra stared at her.

The bright blue eyes staring back seemed oddly unfocused. As if Glynda's mind was occupied with something different. Something that needed all of her attention.

"What happened to you?" Sandra asked quietly.

For the briefest moment, something flickered across Glynda's expression. Then it vanished. The smile returned immediately.

"I'm doing great," Glynda replied. The answer came too quickly. As if she'd delivered it dozens of times before. Sandra felt her pulse quicken. Something was very wrong.

Chris sat waiting for her behind that door.

With a final uneasy glance at her former boss, Sandra reached for the handle and stepped into the office.

The smell hit her immediately.

The stench of stale smoke and alcohol. She had to force herself to keep from retching.

Sandra stepped into the dim light of Chris' office. He sat behind his desk, the same smug smirk plastered across his face that always seemed to be there. She resisted the urge to glare.

"Sandra," he greeted, his tone dripping with condescension. He gestured toward one of the empty chairs in front of his desk.

Sandra forced herself to smile. This man was still her superior, after all. "You called me, Sir," she said, trying to keep her voice level.

Chris leaned back. The leather of the chair creaked loudly beneath his weight, and Sandra noticed the dark, damp sweat stains spreading from the collar of his shirt to the underarms. He didn't seem bothered in the slightest, however, he just kept staring at her with the same amused look that she found so irritating.

"Take a seat, will you? I want to show you something." His voice oozed arrogance as if this were a command rather than an invitation. She fought back the urge to tell him to go to hell, instead nodding politely before walking over and sitting down in front of his desk. As soon as her bottom hit the seat, he grinned even wider. Her eyes flicked away, unable to stand the sight of him. They landed instead on his computer monitor. And what she saw there made her stomach twist into a knot.

Onscreen were pictures of Glynda, legs spread wide open and mouth agape in a lewd smile as she posed provocatively for whoever held the camera. She was dressed in nothing but skimpy lingerie, the fabric transparent and revealing everything beneath it. Her face, always so composed in meetings and negotiations, was contorted into a look of lustful desperation. The contrast between these photos and the professional woman she knew made Sandra's blood run cold.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Chris remarked, noticing her gaze.

"That's disgusting," she replied, trying to sound calm even as revulsion rose within her throat.

"Disgusting?" He laughed. It was a cruel sound. "That's funny, coming from you."

Sandra felt her face heat up with anger. What the hell did he mean by that? Before she could respond, though, Chris turned his attention back to the computer screen.

"Let's be real, Sandra. You love seeing Glynda all wet and willing. You've fantasized about her. How she would look naked and moaning your name. Am I wrong?"

She didn't answer him, refusing to give him any satisfaction. But deep down she knew he had hit a nerve. Yes, she did sometimes think about her old boss like that. How could anyone not?

Glynda had curves and legs for days, full hips, round ass, perky breasts. And the serious attempts to hide some of that in professional clothing made the effect all the hotter.

And now this creep was staring at photos of her in skimpy underwear.

Chris continued, visibly enjoying Sandra's inner conflict, "It's always fun seeing the shy ones giving completely in. Just think about slapping those cheeks."

"Shut up!" Sandra shouted suddenly. Her face flushed as she glared daggers at him.

"Oh? Do I detect some anger there?" His smile grew even wider as he leaned forward over his desk and studied her intently like she was just another piece of meat he wanted to sample before buying.

"Do you want to punish me, Miss?"

She gritted her teeth, trying hard to stay composed under his scrutiny, "You're disgusting," she hissed again, her hands clenching into fists at her side.

"Disgusting? Me? You're the one who wants to fuck her brains out. You fantasize about bending her over your desk every day. Don't you?"

Her face burned hotter with every word. It wasn't true! Well, not completely. Maybe once or twice. But that wasn't the point! He had no right to talk to her like that!

"Stop talking about Glynda that way," Sandra said, her voice trembling slightly.

"Why should I? You think it, too. You just hide it behind those fake smiles and polite nods. You pretend you don't notice how sexy she is when you're around her. You act like you aren't imagining yourself taking her hard and fast. It's only natural. A dominant woman like you, Sandra, has needs. How else could you stand to follow your boss's orders all day, without an outlet?"

His words struck something deep within her core. Something primal that stirred within her chest like molten lead flowing through her veins.

Chris continued relentlessly as she stared back at him in silence. His tone became low and suggestive now, almost seductive as he went on: "Imagine how good it would feel to ram a strap-on into those vacant holes." His words sent a wave of disgust and desire washing through Sandra's body in equal measure, making it hard for her to focus. Chris continued to press on. "I'm sure you can imagine the pleasure. Every inch sliding deep inside her, stretching out that pretty little cunt of hers."

"Stop, stop this nonsense," Sandra replied breathlessly.

He grinned wickedly at her obvious discomfort but kept going nonetheless. "I've seen how you look at her ass when she walks by your office window, Sandra. It's cute how much you want to bury yourself inside her tight little butthole."

She was panting heavily now, feeling lightheaded as his words penetrated her ears and filled her head with images of Glynda's body bent over before her, inviting her to ravage her holes. She could practically hear the woman moaning in ecstasy beneath her as she thrust deep into the slut.

His stench and musk filled her nostrils. But the familiar disgust didn't come. Instead, a wave of pleasure rippled through Sandra at his scent, and she felt her nipples stiffen under her blouse. Her panties grew damp as arousal began to pool between her thighs, making her shift uncomfortably in her seat. She could smell the sweat coming off him in waves mixed with something tantalizing.

Chris seemed to sense this shift in Sandra's demeanor almost immediately and leaned closer towards her across the desk. "Come on now. You can't tell me you wouldn't love to hear those filthy screams coming out of her slutty little mouth. As you thrust and slap her ass. Making it jiggle and shake with every thrust. Fucking that bitch like a whore!"

Sandra gasped at his lewdness but found herself unable to deny the truth behind his words. Her body trembled with need at the mere thought of dominating Glynda like that, using her body to satiate her desires.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? To see your former boss all fucked out like some cheap whore, groaning like an animal."

"Yes," She breathed shakily, her eyes half closed.

"That's right. Keep that image in the back of your mind. Focus on it. Don't let it go away. But listen, Sandra. I'm your boss. So you need to listen." His words sent shivers down Sandra's spine, sending her heart racing as the image of her fucking Glynda became a permanent resident of her mind. It was so real. She could almost feel Glynda's skin pressed up against hers.

"Now, listen closely, you hot little piece of ass," Chris said as he leaned forward even further until his face was mere centimeters away from hers. "I want you to imagine Glynda in a slutty little maid outfit, kneeling at my feet like a good little slut. Can you picture that?"

Sandra nodded mutely, unable to do anything else except listen to the man before her as her imagination filled in the blanks for what he described. "I'm sitting on a chair with my legs spread apart, watching as she wraps her plump lips around my long throbbing shaft." His words sent a jolt straight through Sandra's body and right between her thighs. "Can you see that?"

"Yes," She whispered hoarsely, her mind filled with vivid pictures of Chris's massive member disappearing inch after inch into Glynda's warm, wet mouth. "Her cheeks are bulging obscenely around its girth and her eyes are rolled upwards, glazed over in pleasure. She moans around the length, gagging on it as she bobs her head back and forth eagerly, slurping away at my cock like it's the most delicious thing she's ever tasted. And you know what is even better. You are there too. Packed in an even tighter maid costume. Your posture is stiff. Breasts and butt perfectly displayed. You rub my neck. Massaging and kissing me."

Chris grinned wickedly as he continued painting this erotic scene for her."You watch as she sucks my dick so beautifully, so eagerly, her lips stretching wide open around its thick base as she takes more and more of me inside her, her throat convulsing wildly around me."

Sandra moaned softly in response to his words: "I'm going to cum soon. My balls are swelling up with seed and Glynda knows it, she can feel it in her mouth and she sucks even harder, faster, desperate to taste my sweet cum. It makes your cunt throb."

Sandra's body was trembling with need at the images flashing through her head and her pussy ached painfully as she imagined Glynda's mouth wrapped around that massive cock, her tongue swirling over its veiny surface. She could almost smell the musk emanating from Chris's groin as he neared climax. Her body trembled as the images became more intense. "I'm so close," Chris breathed out shakily as he watched Sandra's reaction closely. "My whole body tenses up. Keep that image inside your mind, Sandra. Focus on it."

"Yes," Sandra whimpered breathlessly as she felt the orgasm building up within her, her clit pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

"That's it. Keep it in your mind. Put it beside your other fantasy. Let's keep it. It's now another permanent resident of your mind," Chris whispered as he leaned back in his seat, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.

Sandra's eyes fluttered as she inhaled deeply. Her mind swam with pleasure and need. The fantasies he described filled the back of her mind. But she had to listen to Chris.

"I own this company," he said smugly. "You work for me." Sandra couldn't argue with that, despite her hatred of this man. He owned it all. And she was just an employee. Nothing more. "And that means, I'm responsible for your well-being. And you are so very grateful for my care."

"Yes, Sir," She answered without hesitation. "I am." And it was true. As much as Sandra loathed him, a part of her still felt thankful for everything he'd given them.

"Of course you are. Just think about Glynda's tongue between your thick thighs," he continued: "How good she is at eating that pussy."

The image came unbidden into her mind and she could see it clearly. "Oh yes," she gasped out.

"It's so hot, isn't it? To see your former boss like this? All slutty and submissive." He paused briefly to watch Sandra squirm in her seat before continuing. "You love watching her please us, don't you?"

"God, yes!" Sandra moaned as her hips bucked upwards off her chair involuntarily. "I love seeing her like this. All slutty and submissive."

"Obviously. A domme like you needs a slut between her legs. And she's the best, isn't she? So good at pleasing people." He smiled knowingly as he added, "Just imagine how nice her lips will feel wrapped around your hard little clit, licking away at your pussy until you come all over her face.

Sandra groaned softly as her eyes closed shut, imagining herself straddling Glynda's pretty face, grinding against it like some kind of animal.

"Can you picture her pretty face pressed against your cunt? Licking and sucking your juices like a hungry slut? That's exactly how it will be from now on." He leaned closer to her. "Your pussy is served all the time. Focus on that image. Keep it in mind. Make it another permanent resident."

"Yes," She gasped out shakily, nodding frantically. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."

"Perfect. Good girl, Sandra," Chris praised."You are a very good, obedient employee." His praise made her feel warm inside. Warm and happy. Listening to her boss felt so fucking good. His voice seemed to resonate with something deep within her core. Something primal and carnal that yearned desperately for his attention.

Sandra couldn't help herself but spread her legs wide apart. Her fingers twitched. Her panties were drenched with her arousal.

Chris watched Sandra with a triumphant grin plastered on his face. She was completely under his spell. "You work for me, don't you? I own the company, don't I?"

"God yes!" Sandra cried, her voice quivering slightly.

"That's right," he said, leaning back comfortably in his seat again. "I own everything. This company, Glynda, your cunt. It's all mine."

"Yes," she gasped, her breath catching as she felt another surge of pleasure wash over her, making her shudder uncontrollably. "All yours, Sir."

"That's good. Let me see what I own, Sandra," he ordered casually.

She immediately complied without thinking twice about it, spreading her legs even wider so that Chris could clearly see how wet her panties had gotten during their conversation.

"That's right. Just imagine how Glynda would look in your position."

She imagined how her former boss's pussy would look right now, all swollen, dripping wet and ready for use.

"Keep it, Sandra. It's now a permanent resident. Must be hard to think with all those fantasies inside your mind. Tell me Sandra, what is your purpose in my company." Chris inquired.

"My purpose?" She asked. Thoughts came slowly as they tried to move around the images clogging up her mind.

"What you are supposed to do, slut," Chris clarified. His voice was harsh and commanding, sending shivers through Sandra. She tried to think about anything. But all she could think about was Glynda beneath her or her boss. Fucking.

"Answer," Chris demanded.

Sandra swallowed. Her eyes locked with his for just a few seconds. But that was enough. His gaze bored into her like nothing else before, piercing through every defense mechanism and resistance tactic that might have otherwise kept him out. His intense stare seemed almost hypnotic, drawing Sandra deeper under his influence until finally he spoke again.

"What is your purpose, whore," Chris repeated.

"I don't know," Sandra responded meekly. Her voice was barely audible, yet still loud enough that anyone listening could hear her speak without straining too hard.

"That's right. You don't know. Obviously. You are so obsessed with sex. Be real. I tell you my cock is deep in Glynda's ass and you can only think of one thing."

Sandra's face flushed red with embarrassment as her cheeks heated up at the image that immediately popped into her head at his words. She could see him thrusting roughly into her friend's tight little butthole, making her scream in pain and pleasure at each violent motion he made. "It would hurt her so good," she gasped out.

"Keep it. Permanent resident." He smiled as he added, "Now let me help you. I'm a nice guy. And you are my property, aren't you?" He asked smugly. "You have to be obedient and loyal to your owner, don't you?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. Her eyes were locked onto his. The way they twinkled when he smiled. She felt like she could melt in those eyes forever if given half a chance.

"That's right. You obey me. That's your job. No need to think at all. Keep your mind on your fantasies."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good, good. Now listen carefully. Your cunt needs cock, doesn't it? You want to be filled. Used."

She nodded vigorously. The thought sent a jolt of excitement straight down between her legs where she could feel the wetness pooling even further.

Chris leaned closer until their faces almost touched. "Your purpose is to take a big fat dick in your tight little hole whenever your boss desires. To be obedient and loyal to him. To please him and serve him with enthusiasm. And most importantly to spread your legs wide apart when ordered to do so by him. That's it. That's what you need to know about your purpose. Simple."

"Yes," she gasped, feeling her clit pulse in time with her racing heart.

"And when not in use, you become a cruel bitch. You love to degrade and humiliate my other toys. Especially your old friends. You want to force them down. You love watching them struggle. Seeing them grovel before you."

Sandra whimpered softly, unable to think. She could already picture how her friends would look kneeling at her feet, begging to lick her feet clean while waiting for her boss to fuck her senseless. She would mock their desperation. She would degrade and humiliate them. She would enjoy seeing them squirm.

Chris' words echoed in her head. His voice resonated deep within her core, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her entire body.

"You want to degrade your old friend, don't you?" He asked, watching Sandra's reaction intently. "To see how far she will go just because you ordered it? How deep her devotion runs? Don't lie, whore, it turns you on. You are an obedient bitch. A good little slut."

She couldn't deny the truth of his words, no matter how much she hated him for saying them. "Yes," she breathed heavily. Her clit pulsed with need. "Yes, I want to degrade her, humiliate her, and make her suffer."

Chris smirked triumphantly. "You are a cruel, cold bitch. And that turns me on so much." His voice was thick and heavy with desire, sending another wave of pleasure through Sandra's body.

"God, yes," she whispered breathlessly. "But the moment you smell my glorious musk, you become a well behaving pet. You need a strong leader. Your obedience makes your pussy throb. It turns you on to surrender completely."

"Yes, Sir." Her voice trembled slightly. The idea of being dominated by this man was intoxicating. Her entire body yearned desperately to submit to his will. She felt so vulnerable before him. Weak. Powerless.

Chris leaned back in his seat once more, enjoying the way Sandra's eyes followed his every move.

"Now that I've explained what your purpose is. I think I should get a reward. Sandra get over here and suck me off."

She obeyed instantly without even thinking about what she was doing or why she was doing it. Sandra crawled across the floor towards Chris' chair, kneeling between his spread legs as she reached up to unbuckle his belt before sliding down his zipper.

Her hand slipped into the open fly of Chris' pants, grasping the warm, throbbing length within her grasp and gently pulling it out so that it stood proudly before her face. His erect four inches looked so massive.

Sandra licked her lips hungrily. Her tongue flicked out briefly against the swollen tip of his cock. A loud moan escaped Chris' throat. "Yes, that's it, slut. Keep going."

She smiled up at him, her eyes gleaming with lust. Her lips parted slowly, wrapping around his shaft and engulfing his entire member in a single motion. Her tongue lapped along his length as her mouth began bobbing up and down on his thick member. Chris gasped loudly, his hands grabbing her hair roughly, guiding her head further onto his cock. She nuzzled deeply into his crotch, wanting to fill her throat with him. The scent of his musk filled her nostrils. The taste of his precum coated her tongue, mixing deliciously with the saltiness of her saliva. She moaned loudly as her lips wrapped tightly around his throbbing organ. His hips bucked upwards, pushing deeper into her mouth, forcing more of his length down her eager, waiting gullet.

Sandra gagged slightly at first as Chris forced himself further into her, but soon got used to the feeling. Her pussy was dripping wet, juices running freely from her pussy and coating the floor beneath her knees.

"Oh fuck, Sandra!" He growled through clenched teeth, his eyes rolling backwards as his entire body shook violently with pleasure. Sandra could feel the pressure building inside of him as his cock swelled and pulsated at the entrance of her throat, the throbbing becoming stronger with every passing moment. "Yes, that's right! Suck your master off, whore!"

His hips bucked upwards, pushing deeper into her throat. She felt herself suck harder, so his massive member touched every inch of her mouth. She knew, it had to be her distracted mind that made it feel small.

Chris groaned loudly as his cock erupted in a powerful orgasm, filling Sandra's eager, waiting mouth completely full of warm semen. She swallowed greedily, relishing the taste and feeling of her boss' seed coating the back of her throat. It tasted salty sweet and slightly bitter all at once. Her tongue lapped hungrily against his shaft, savoring the flavor and texture as it mixed with her saliva.

When she was done swallowing the last drop of his ejaculate, she pulled back from his softening cock, releasing it from between her swollen lips with a loud pop.

Breathing heavily, Chris settled back into his chair.

"Good work, bitch. Now go. Play with Glynda or something," He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, his cock already limp again as he tucked himself away.

"Yes, Sir." She rose to her feet slowly. Her mind was spinning wildly as she left his office, but she couldn't deny how aroused she felt after servicing him. Her cunt ached desperately for attention and she knew just who could provide it.

Glynda greeted Sandra as she emerged from behind Chris' door. She was still sitting there behind her desk. Still smiling that empty, mindless grin that made Sandra shudder.

"Bitch," she said, her voice cold and commanding, her eyes narrowing in anger at her friend. Glynda shivered, her lips parting in submission. Sandra felt a thrill run through her as Glynda's eyes dropped to the floor.

"What are you doing?" She demanded. Glynda looked confused.

"Just sitting," She mumbled, not daring to look at Sandra.

"Are you fucking stupid? Look at me," Sandra commanded, and Glynda obeyed instantly, turning towards her former subordinate. Sandra felt a rush of power surge through her as she looked down at her friend's blank, docile face. "Who gave you permission to slack off, slut. My cunt is dripping, whore."

"I'm sorry," Glynda whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she lowered her head again.

"You should be. Bitch," Sandra spat out angrily, stepping forward until she stood directly in front of Glynda. "Get on your knees, slut," She ordered. Her tone was harsh and dominating, and Glynda quickly obeyed. She fell to her hands and knees before Sandra, her body shaking with anticipation. Sandra reached out, grabbing hold of Glynda's long blonde hair tightly, yanking her head upward roughly. Glynda gasped loudly as she looked up into Sandra's dark eyes.

"Get to work, slut. Maybe if you are good I will film you masturbating," Sandra hissed angrily, pressing herself firmly against the other woman, forcing Glynda's head between her legs. Sandra could smell her own arousal on the air as she spread her legs wide apart. She pushed Glynda's face into her crotch, rubbing it against the soaked fabric of her panties.

"Yes mistress," Glynda moaned happily, leaning into the touch eagerly, nuzzling her face against Sandra's damp panties. Sandra gasped loudly, closing her eyes as she felt the heat from Glynda's tongue licking along her pussy through the material. Glynda began kissing her pantie covered mound, tasting her musky juices. The feeling sent shivers running through Sandra's entire body.

"That's it, whore," She moaned, pushing harder on the back of Glynda's head, forcing her to take more of her pussy. "Get that tongue working. Lick your superior's pussy. Show me you are worth keeping as a toy."

Glynda obeyed eagerly, licking and sucking at the wet spot on Sandra's underwear. Eager she pushed the ruined fabric aside. She ran her tongue along Sandra's swollen lips, teasing the sensitive folds. Sandra groaned, bucking her hips as she gripped Glynda's hair tightly, keeping her in place.

The blonde's mouth was hot, and Sandra felt the blood rushing through her veins. She could feel the wetness between her legs growing more intense as Glynda's tongue explored her depths. Her pussy throbbed in anticipation of what was coming next.

"Fucking slut," She hissed angrily, pushing harder against her former friend, "you like this, don't you? Being used by me. You bitch."

Glynda whimpered, her body trembling beneath Sandra. "Please," she whispered, looking up into Sandra's eyes. Unfocused emptiness reflected unfocused dominance. Sandra smirked, her lips curling up into a wicked grin. She knew exactly how to deal with her little pet. "Go ahead, beg," she commanded.

Glynda nodded obediently, licking her mistress's pussy again. "Please," she mumbled softly. "Please let me taste your sweet cum, mistress. I need to taste it so bad." Her voice quivered as she spoke, but her tone remained subservient.

"You want my pussy juices, slut," Sandra moaned loudly, her fingers tangling in the blonde's hair as she pushed her closer towards her center. "Then, make me cum."

Glynda moaned, her mouth already eagerly devouring Sandra's pussy. Her tongue slid deep into her wet slit, licking her inner walls, tasting her delicious juices. Sandra shuddered, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Yes! That's right! Eat my fucking cunt! Make me cum! Fucking slut! Show me how much of a worthless fuck toy you are!" Sandra cried out, pulling hard at Glynda's hair. Glynda whimpered in pain but didn't stop eating out her superior. She lapped hungrily at the other woman's clitoris, teasing her swollen clit between her lips. She sucked and licked greedily, slurping loudly, her tongue flicking over Sandra's sensitive nub.

Sandra could feel the orgasm building up within her. Her entire body shook with need as her cunt clenched tightly around Glynda's probing tongue.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Sandra shouted, her voice shaking with pleasure. Her pussy contracted forcefully around Glynda's tongue, milking every last drop of pleasure she could get from the other woman. Her juices gushed forth in a powerful torrent, flooding Glynda's face. The blonde moaned loudly, eagerly lapping at her mistress' juices as she drank deeply of Sandra's essence. "Fuck! Oh god yes!" Sandra cried out, bucking her hips violently as an orgasm ripped through her body, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout her entire being.

Glynda licked and sucked at Sandra's pussy, her mouth filled with the other woman's sweet, salty taste. Sandra groaned as she felt the blonde continue to service her even after her climax had subsided, her tongue probing deep inside her sensitive folds.

"Oh, god," Sandra sighed, finally pulling away from Glynda's eager mouth. She reached out, grabbing a handful of Glynda's long blonde locks, yanking hard, forcing the woman's head backward roughly. "You are a dirty little whore," Sandra spat, looking down at Glynda. "Nothing more than a relieve dispenser."

"Thank you, mistress," Glynda murmured softly, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and shame.

"You're welcome, slut," Sandra responded coldly, releasing her grip on Glynda's hair, watching as she slumped to the ground, exhausted.

"Please let me cum, mistress," Glynda pleaded weakly, her voice trembling.

Sandra laughed cruelly, shaking her head in disbelief at how quickly her former boss had fallen to the level of a worthless whore. "I don't think I will, bitch. This is your punishment for never giving me even the smallest notion of sexual attention."

Glynda shivered and moaned.

"Oh, is that hot? Being denied like that, bitch?" Sandra's cruel smile widened as she watched her former boss squirm and writhe on the floor in front of her.

"Yes, Mistress. It is so hot," Glynda moaned softly, her eyes unfocused, and her face flushed red with shame and arousal. "It's humiliating, and degrading, but it makes me so wet."

"That's good to hear. Maybe if you are a good bitch, I'll allow you to hump the air while working." She laughed cruelly, leaning down and patting Glynda on the cheek.

With a satisfied sway in her hips, Sandra stalked back to her desk. She loved what had happened to the company since that dumb bitch Glynda sold it to her new boss Chris.