Respectable 2

A Note from the Author: All players are consenting adults well over the age of 18.

Please be advised that there is some very light BDSM in this story, object insertion, as well as some anal play.

Respectable

_____________________

Part I: Signals

I see her and my heart rate increases. I carefully control my breath, inhaling over a count of five, holding for two, then exhaling over a count of six. Pulse nominal.

We greet each other warmly but professionally, as usual. I am careful not to linger. No one must suspect.

We allow our eyes to meet for a fragment of a second, but the communication has been established. Intimate knowledge, shared secrets, and innate lust traverse a fleeting glance. We are highly tuned to each other.

I close the door to my office and reflect. Time passes slowly. We have a tryst scheduled for today, but I am impatient. A hotel room is booked for lunch and I wonder if I can tolerate those few hours. Such is my need.

Her need is worse, nearly insatiable. She heats slowly, but burns white hot. On cue, my phone vibrates on the desk. A text message from her. I know what she wants but I hold on to the rational for one last moment.

[Meet me in the record management storage room]

I stare at the wall, then the ceiling. We cannot do this at work. We absolutely cannot. The risk is too high. If someone heard or suspected, we would both be ruined. We are upstanding. Respectable.

But the rational fades as the bottomless need begins to whisper in my ear. My cock stirs in anticipation of what is about to happen in that musty room. The urge to lock the door and masturbate in my office dances through my addled brain. If I cum right now, I can still remain in control of the situation. It's not really an option.

I control my breathing so I can walk calmly through the halls. Casually. Without a care.

[Tell me what you are going to do to me]

I stop in the empty cafeteria to compose the jumble of thoughts into a coherent narrative. A laundry list of fuck. None of it is suitable for the upstanding.

A random coworker waves to me and I smile and wave back. Very good, very good. They do not suspect what is occurring in my body, the filth in my mind.

I make my way to the storage area slowly because I want the adrenaline maximized for our interlude. There is no one in this part of the building because the department is being relocated. A curious person might wander through and discover us, but I don't care now. I need to taste her.

I lock the door behind me and she is there, staring. Jet black hair on ivory skin. Emerald eyes.

She smirks. "Well? What are you going to do to me?"

I let out a long sigh and start methodically cracking my knuckles. "It depends on you. Are you good or are you naughty today?"

She lifts her skirt and I see that she has ripped a hole in the crotch of her pantyhose. The nylon glistens and I know she's been fingering herself at her desk.

I roll my sleeve. "Fucking yourself under the desk qualifies as naughty. Not very respectable at all, really."

She smiles sweetly and says, "No, I suppose not. Why don't you show me what happens to a woman who's not respectable?"

I approach slowly, circling. She stands straight and tall, skirt riding high on her thighs. I am so close that I can feel her heat. She is trembling almost imperceptibly.

I say, "If only we'd made it to the hotel. There would be a comfortable bed, a hot shower. But you couldn't wait. Very slutty. You couldn't wait and now it's going to be neither comfortable nor clean."

She says nothing. I breath on the back of her neck and watch as the hairs on her arms stand on end. She is ready to begin. Ready to be touched. My hands slide across her ass gently, tracing palm-sized circles on each cheek, warming them. Carefully, I pull up her gray pencil skirt to reveal her nylon-clad waist. I deliver a very smart slap to her right buttock and she gasps.

Another. It stings my hand, but this is exactly how she likes to begin when she's been naughty. She closes her eyes and quietly whimpers. We are highly tuned to each other.

I punctuate each sentence with a sharp slap to alternate buttocks. My mouth is millimeters from her ear. "Fucking your fingers at your desk is fucking dirty. Tearing a fuck hole in your nylons is fucking dirty. Now let's see the rest of your dirty holes."

I wrap my left arm around her waist, balancing her, and move her right leg on top of a file box. I drop to my knees behind her and am eye level with her ass. At the bottom of her crotch, I see the ragged ends of nylons where she has torn the material. I can smell her sex, rich and deep. My appetite is voracious and my mouth floods with saliva.

I tell her to bend over and she complies, holding on to a file cabinet for support. I dive into her ass crack, tonguing the intact nylons over her asshole. Saliva soaks into the material, running down to mix with the juice from her masturbation. She is soaked.

Her asshole is still tight, but she responds to the stimulation with quiet moans. Through the nylon, my tongue presses and teases the delicate ring of nerves that surround the center. Later, she'll beg me to finger her, then slip my cock inside that dirty hole. But not yet. We're not there yet.

First, we need to address that naughty fuck hole. That rip in her respectable facade. The rational mind is swallowed whole.

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Part II: Counterparts

The room is small and poorly lit. Only half of the light fixtures are working but no one will repair the remainder. The department is moving and the room has all the signs of abandonment. She has chosen this place for that specific reason.

And now she stands bent before me, buttocks bright red under ripped pantyhose.

Her labia are swollen. Examining the hole in her clothing, I ask, "And what did you fuck yourself with? Fingers only? Something else?" I allow the very tip of my middle finger to brush her lips and she noticeably quivers.

She points to the top of a nearby box. I missed it before, but on top of the box lies a large magic marker. The non-writing end of the implement is smooth and tapers to a point.

"You tore a hole in your pantyhose and fucked yourself with a big, fat marker? Then brought it here to show me?"

She nods, eyes closed. I deliver another smart slap to her right buttock, then a symmetric blow to her left. "Say it out loud. Tell me exactly what you did to this pussy. What you did without even asking."

She moans. Breathing heavily, she begins, "I got to my office and sat at my desk but I knew I needed to get off. The hotel was..." She shakes her head unconsciously. "It was too far away." Her voice is nearly a whimper.

I pick up the marker and can detect her scent on the hard plastic. She cannot see what I am doing with it, and I give it a thorough lick. I say, "You didn't ask if you could play with this pussy. Shoving markers in your wet cunt is something a fucking slut would do." She trembles and I ask, "Are you a dripping, fucking slut?"

Before she can respond, I insert the marker straight into her steaming hole. She yelps at the unexpected violation, but grinds her hips down onto the makeshift dildo.

"Who's dripping wet, sloppy hole is this? Who does it belong to?" My questions are punctuated with slaps to her buttocks from my free hand.

She continues to grind. "All for you." I feel juice run down the side of the plastic. "All for you," she repeats in a faraway voice.

Knowing she is nearly fully lubricated, I begin to furiously work her vagina with the implement, fucking her with it so fast that my hand is a blur. She digs her left hand into my hair and clenches her fist.

We have had many conversations about encounters such as these. Sometimes by phone or text, sometimes as she casually jerks me off in a parked car, or as I tongue her pussy in a remote public bathroom stall. I know that in her current mood, she wants to be degraded. I have never cared so deeply about someone. We are on the same page.

"That's right. This is all for me. My. Fucking. Pussy. You are to me what this marker is to you, a fucktoy. A cheap piece of plastic, a tool to make me cum."

The relentless stimulation combined with fear of discovery is driving her orgasm faster than normal. I cannot let her come yet.

I work the plastic cock more slowly, grinding into her to the hilt. "Dirty sluts get off like this. You're supposed to be working, not fucking in a filthy storage room. What if someone finds out?" She works her hips in tandem with my motion and I wonder if she'll cum regardless of my attempt at control.

"What if your makeup isn't perfect?

"What if someone sees your wet pantyhose?

"What if someone smells your sex?

"What if someone finds out what a fucking slut you really are?"

I punctuate each question by slowly inserting the marker all the way and carefully withdrawing it until only the very tip touches her. It is so slow that I can see her legs shaking with the need to climax. I carefully circle the plastic tip around her engorged clit, never so much as brushing the core of her physical excitement.

Balancing her on the brink of orgasm, every word is chosen to have maximum effect on her pleasure center. Today I am fully enjoying this role, and feel the responsibility. I am in a state of awe. She has never been more beautiful than this moment, in a dirty room with a fat marker rammed in her steaming sex. I wonder if anyone has ever been this nakedly beautiful. She is a goddess.

"

You are a fucking slut.

You don't deserve to cum. Only good girls get to cum. You are a filthy fucktoy. A bottomless, dirty hole to be filled with cock. Flooded with cum."

With that I drop the marker back on the box and apply a sharp slap to her neglected clitoris. Another. She throws back her head and I know she will scream with another slap.

Not yet.

"You get one chance to cum, and only when I say." I stand up and turn her around so that she faces me for the first time. The urge to slap her is very high, but my distant rational mind reminds me that she must return to work. I cannot endanger her respectable public façade.

Her hands begin to wander to her engorged clit, and I slap them away, saying, "Don't you fucking dare touch yourself."

Her eyes plead for instruction. I relent and instruct, "Unzip my pants."

She leans close and I can feel the urgency in her breath, short and rapid. Her hair has fallen over her eyes and I know that I'm peeking behind the mask. Inside her is something raw, something elemental, waiting to be released. It is my responsibility to provide that release.

Her thin fingers work with preternatural grace, unzipping in a fluid motion and finding the seam in my underwear, finding my cock. She moves to rub the tip against her clit. I draw back. It takes everything I have to keep my voice steady.

"Good girls get to rub their needy little clits with cock. But that's not you, is it?"

She sighs and whimpers but doesn't speak. I pull back further and she releases my cock. I ask again, "I asked you a question. Are you a good girl today?"

She shakes her head and whispers, simply, "No."

"Open your fucking mouth."

She opens and I marvel at her straight, white teeth. They are perfect by any standard. Her eyes are slits, but I feel her watching me. She likely expects me to force her to fellate me, but I want to subvert her expectations. I move quickly and place my left hand in the center of her back, leaning in and dipping her as though we are dancing. In a manner, that's exactly what we are doing in this shabby little room.

Her mouth slams shut at the unexpected motion and I say, "I said open that mouth. It wants to suck cock but sucking cock is for people who behave. Not for dirty fucktoys."

She opens her mouth and I immediately spit directly inside, saying, "Don't you fucking swallow. Your mouth is a receptacle."

She nods and I know she likes this variation of the game. I can feel her whole body relax on my arm as she absorbs her instruction set. She is happy to comply. I return her to an upright state and quickly drop my pants and underwear to my ankles.

"Spit on my cock. Get it good and wet. You are going to want it slicked up. Do your fucking job."

She leans over and lets the contents of her mouth drip onto my fully erect cock.

"Cover it good. Work it in with your hand."

Those perfect fingers wrap around me and start a slow jerk. There is such pleasure in her eyes and I know the end game is at hand.

"Turn around."

She spins and I reach for the hole in her stockings. I rip it further, exposing her ass. She lets out a soft moan as she feels the rip and realizes what's about to happen.

Pressing my sex against her ass, I reach for the discarded marker. I slip it into her willing mouth and she sucks it with slow relish.

"Good girls get fucked in a soft bed, in a clean room. Bad girls get their dirty fuck holes filled wherever they can. Now earn my cock."

She arches her back and pushes her ass against my slick cock. I apply a series of sharp slaps to her heated, reddening ass. Our hearts are beating in tandem. Our wills are aligned. She is perfect from top to bottom, and I am about to worship at the altar of that perfection.

_____________________

Part III: Grace Under Pressure

The dim little room carries the unmistakable scent of sex on its still air, but we are past caring. Despite the risk of discovery, we have passed the point of no return and now it's a simple matter of urgency. The nature of the urgency is both a race against time, but also the fundamental need to please one another and ourselves. It's true that she wants to be degraded and used, but she also wants to obey, to feel redemption and praise. She wants to feel the orgasm wash through her body, rinsing away the mundane. I want to fill her.

She works her tongue around the marker as her ass mirrors subtle circles, but I sense her patience dissipating. I say, "Put your hands on that file cabinet. Hold on to it. No matter what happens, don't remove your hands until you are instructed."

With neither a nod nor a word, she wraps one manicured hand through the handle on the cabinet drawer, and the other grips the corner of the metallic box itself. I pull the marker from her lips and a long string of saliva creates a tail. With my left hand, I reach under her and use the smooth, tapered end of the closed marker to circle her clit. My right hand rests on her right hip to provide counterforce as I begin to push against her.

"You are going to take every fucking inch into that dirty hole, and you are going to do it without a sound. One fucking whimper and I'll stop moving. Move your hands away from that cabinet, and I'll stop. I might take my marker and just leave you here with your skirt hiked up and ripped stockings to remind you that only good girls get to cum. Tell me you understand."

Without waiting for an answer, I plunge the head of my cock inside the tight band of muscle at the entrance to her ass. The sensation is exquisite. I whisper, "Tell me you understand."

I can see the fight in her. She wants to cry out. She wants to be calm. She wants to be scolded, but more than anything at this moment, she wants to obey. She controls her breathing with effort and responds flatly, "I understand."

I sharply slap her right buttock, never letting the marker drift from her labia. The hand holding the plastic is becoming so slippery that I have to concentrate to hold it steady.

Her body flinches at the unexpected slap, but she holds firm and stays quiet. This is not about handcuffs or gags. This is not about belts. This is not about any of the trappings at all. This is about control. Both my control over her, and her own self-discipline. I apply several more strikes to her ass and I know she will feel tenderness when she tries to sit later. She is so quiet. She is so strong.

It takes effort to slowly and smoothly push myself inside her while I work the marker without pause. Her breathing becomes erratic, nearly a point of panic as she accepts my full length. It's difficult to tell if she is in a state of pleasure or pain or a superposition of both. I pause to let her adjust, but not long enough to become comfortable.

"See what happens? You could have had that nice comfortable fuck in a nice clean bed. But that's not what you deserve, not what a fucking slut deserves. You deserve to get used in a dirty room. Fucked in your dirty hole."

I begin a methodic rocking of the hips, synchronized with penetration of the marker at her dripping hole. I watch as she grips the metallic handle so hard that I wonder if it might simply break off the cabinet. She is so strong.

There are sudden footsteps outside the room accompanied by muffled voices. My heart feels as though it might beat through my chest, and I know she must feel the same. If the door opens we will be fully exposed in so many different ways. Our raw bodies, our state of lust, our illicit relationship, our professional status will all be threatened by the simple act of opening the door a few feet away. It has no lock.

Though she tenses, she makes no attempt to release the cabinet or terminate the tryst. Control. Discipline. I continue to slowly violate her ass and work the marker against her overheated slit, but I'm watching the doorknob. I can feel cold sweat at my temple. We both know it's pointless to stop. No amount of explanation will justify our joint presence here or the palpable scent of sex.

One voice says, "No. The space is a little small but we could make it work. How long until all the stuff is out?"

A lighter voice answers, "End of the month. There's all sorts of little spaces in here."

Indeed there are. Will they tour the little spaces or move on? Will they find our little fucking space?

We hear them as they move only a dozen feet away. I push myself fully into her ass and ram the marker home. Suddenly and fully filled, she throws her head back so hard that I fear the sound of her hair slapping her shoulders will be audible. I lean forward and whisper, "That's my good girl. This is your only chance to cum.

Do it right now.

"

With that I pull back slightly and piston my hips forward, drawing the marker out and directly across her clit with pressure. The elemental is released. She writhes. Her mouth opens and closes in a soundless scream. Her body is like a live wire. Yet her hands never leave the cabinet, and it may now be the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

This is about control.

The deeper voice says, "Let's come back later, maybe after we get a custodian. This place is dirty."

"Yeah." The lighter voice answers and we hear the footsteps move away.

I let out a long sigh. She has still not made a single noise. "That's my very, very good girl. Only one last little task to make me happy."

She turns to look at me with a raised eyebrow. I answer with a pistoning of my hips, rocking in and out violently without warning. She turns to face the cabinet and accept the last task. The fear of discovery and the smooth pressure of her ass squeezing my cock have combined to overexcite me, and I know that I cannot last.

I let loose with another sigh, pumping my full orgasm into her, filling her full. My mind leaves my body for a full thirty seconds as she flexes the muscles of her ass, emptying me of every last bit of pleasure. I fight to regain composure and to complete my role. As calmly as possible, I say, "Good girl. Very good girl, you did so well. You can let go of the cabinet now. Straighten yourself up." I pull myself from her and watch as an aliquot of fluid runs down her leg and into the ripped top of her stockings.