For the Debt Owed

Mary Conley checked her makeup in the tiny mirror of her compact. Her ruby-red lipstick was perfect, thick mascara and smoky eye shadow, light blush across her high cheekbones all checked out fine. After applying a light dusting of powder across her nose, she snapped the compact closed and slipped it back into her purse. She hoped she looked all right, dressed in a dark green pantsuit over a white blouse. She had never been summoned to the office of her husband's boss. When she'd gotten the call from Mr. Beck's secretary this morning, she'd been alarmed, thinking something had happened to her husband. But everything was fine, the secretary had assured her, Mr. Beck just needed to speak to her about a matter of some importance. Other than that, the secretary would give her no clue as to what he might want with Mary.

Fluffing her dark-red curls nervously, she looked up at the numbers as the elevator slowly climbed its way to the top floor. When the doors slid open, she stepped out into a richly decorated reception area. A pretty blonde who looked about 19 sat at a desk polishing her fingernails. She looked up coolly as Mary approached the desk.

"I'm Mary Conley," she said, and at the girl's look of indifference, added, "Mr. Beck wanted to see me?"

The blonde picked up the phone and pushed a button. "Mr. Conley's wife is here," she announced, then hung up and pointed at the door to Mary's right. "They're waiting for you," she said in a bored tone. "You can go in."

"Thank you," Mary smiled, adding in her mind, "little bitch." She moved to the door and opened it, stepping into a wood-paneled office that was large enough to host a revival meeting. There was thick shag carpeting on the floor, a pair of leather sofas and coffee table in one corner, and three men, one of whom was her husband, seated around the largest oak desk she'd ever seen. The man seated behind the desk rose to greet her.

"I'm Roderick Beck," he introduced himself with a disarming smile, reaching out to shake her hand. She recognized him of course, having seen him a number of times at company functions, although they had never spoken. Around 50, he was quite handsome, with a full head of slicked-back black hair over a deeply tanned face with steely gray eyes and a hawk-like profile. He was about six feet tall, with the lean frame of a powerfully built man who had not let his muscles turn to flab as he aged. He had the air of supreme self-confidence of a man who had single-handedly built an empire. She could feel the strength in his grasp as she shook the proffered hand. She couldn't help but find him attractive, even a bit intoxicating.

"This is Harvey Feinberg, head of our legal department," he indicated the sour-faced, balding man sitting in a chair to the side of the desk who nodded, but offered no other greeting. "And you know your husband, of course," he said with a smile.

"Yes, of course," Mary answered with a nervous laugh. "Hello, dear." Walter mumbled a hello, his eyes refusing to meet hers.

"Please, have a seat," Beck pulled her attention back. He guided her to the leather armchair beside the one Walter sat in before the great desk. "Would you like some coffee? Maybe tea or a soft-drink?"

"Coffee, please," Mary answered.

Beck settled behind his desk, pushing a button on the phone. "Amber, coffee for Mrs. Conley," he barked. Mary could tell he was a man used to giving orders. A moment later, the sullen blonde from the desk out front entered. She moved to a bar at the side of the room and poured the coffee, then brought the cup and saucer to Mary.

"Thank you," Mary smiled sweetly, eliciting an icy glare.

"Will there be anything else, sir?" Amber asked, turning toward the big man.

Beck waved her away with a negligent gesture. Mary could barely contain a chuckle at the little bitch's treatment. When the door closed behind her, Beck turned his attention back to Mary. "Now, Mrs. Conley..."

"Mary. Please," she interrupted him, giving a bit of a flirtatious smile.

"Mary," Beck amended. "As to why I asked you here." He shot a look at Walter. "I suppose Walt here has told you of his recent...predicament?"

"Predicament? No," Mary answered curiously, looking over at Walter, who was studiously examining the hairs on the back of his hand. She knew something had been bothering him for some time. He'd been drinking more and more, spending more time away from home. Any time she had inquired, he'd been elusive and vague, claiming pressures at work.

Beck regarded Walter for a moment with a raised eyebrow, then growled, "Feinberg?"

The little lawyer cleared his throat to get Mary's attention, then read from a file he held. "Over a fifteen month period, beginning in April of last year and lasting until three weeks ago, Walter Conley embezzled $320,760 from Beck Industries Incorporated," he intoned in a reedy, nasal voice.

Mary blinked at the little man, not comprehending. "Embezzled..." she turned to her husband, who avoided her eyes, then to Mr. Beck, who watched her closely with his hawk-like gaze. "There must be some mistake," she said weakly.

"No mistake," Feinberg interjected, holding up another piece of paper. "He's already signed his confession." He passed the confession to Mary, who held it in shaking fingers and tried to read. After a moment, she glanced at a still-despondent Walter, then passed it back.

"What if he gave back the money?"

"No good," Feinberg assured her. "As it says here in the confession, Mr. Conley used the money to cover gambling debts."

Gambling debts? Mary looked incredulously at her husband who hung his head in shame. She knew he played poker and bet on sports, but $320,000? Finally, she turned her helpless gaze back to Beck.

Beck sat forward in his chair, his steely eyes studying her face. Finally he spoke. "I built this company with my own two hands," he rumbled. His voice rose as he continued. "I put in hundred hour weeks, gave up on having a family, fought off take-overs and ruthless competitors. I put my own blood and sweat into it for the last thirty years!" He was nearly shouting, red in the face with anger as Mary quailed before him. He took a deep breath, settling back as he calmed himself. "That's why," he continued in a more subdued tone, "I take it personally when one of my people steals from me."

With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she asked in a small voice, "What are you going to do?"

"I could turn this over to the police," Beck said, pointing at the folder Feinberg held. "A call to my golfing buddy the D.A. and old Walt there goes away for ten-to-twenty." Walter appeared as if he would be sick any moment now. "We take away the company cars you both drive, foreclose on the mortgage the company holds on your home, and, since it seems he doesn't have any of the money left, we'd put a lien against your personal belongings to recoup some of our loss."

Mary's hands were shaking so badly she had to set the coffee cup on Beck's desk lest she spill it.

"Of course, without Walt's income, you would have to get a job. In today's market, with your lack of job skills, you might get on as a maid somewhere. If not, there's always welfare. You'd certainly have to pull your kids out of that fancy private school they go to, send them to public school with the gangs and dope pushers. College is out of the question. You've got one nearing college age, don't you?"

Head spinning, Mary murmured, "Susan. She's almost 18."

"Ah, yes. Susan," Beck said, smiling. "And your son John is how old, 16? And little Nikki just turned 14?" Mary nodded blindly. "Well, maybe they could get jobs to help make ends meet. At any rate, your life will be very much changed." He fell silent, letting the reality of the situation sink in for a long moment.

"Or..." he said finally.

Mary looked up hopefully.

"You could work off your husbands debt."

Mary was taken aback. She had no job skills, he'd said so himself. What could she do? "W-work?" she stammered. "You mean for the company?"

Beck snapped his fingers at Feinberg, who whipped another document out of his folder.

"This is a personal services contract," Feinberg explained, handing the several-page document to Mary, "between yourself and Mr. Beck for a term of 5 years. Your annual salary would be $64,000, which would revert back to B.I.I. against the amount of Mr. Conley's debt."

Mary studied the contract, but all her reeling brain could pick out was a bunch of "party of the first part" and "wherefore" and "thereas" legalese. "What would I be doing?" she asked.

"Just what it says," Beck answered with a wolfish grin. "Personal services."

That leering stare told Mary just how "personal" those services were likely to be. Her face burned hotly with embarrassment. She wanted to throw that contract back in his sneering face. But she did not. Finally, she asked, "And if I agree?"

"Then Walt stays on at his present salary. Of course I'll be keeping my eye on him," he gave Walter a warning look before turning back to Mary. "You keep your house, your car, your belongings. Keep your kids in that school... Everybody's happy," he concluded with an insolent grin.

Mary's brain worked feverishly, searching for a way out. Despair gripped her stomach as she slowly reconciled herself to the fact that she was trapped. "It seems I have little choice," she finally uttered. She turned to Feinberg. "Where do I sign?"

"Not so fast," Beck interrupted. "I didn't get where I am today by accepting untested merchandise. Stand up and show me what I'm buying."

Taken aback, Mary rose slowly to her feet. She looked at Beck uncertainly.

"Take off your clothes," he ordered. At her hesitation, he growled, "Or get out now and I make a phone call."

Dropping her frightened eyes from the powerful man's uncompromising gaze, Mary fumbled with the buttons of her jacket. She slipped the jacket from her shoulders and laid it carefully over the arm of her chair. A furtive glance at Beck's intent stare told her she was to continue. After unbuttoning her sleeves then the front of her blouse, she unbuckled her fashionable belt and undid her pants. She was aware of Walter's uncomfortable fidgeting and Feinberg's cold gaze as well as Beck's scrutiny as she let the blouse fall, laying it over the jacket. A quick intake of breath and she bent over to push her pants to her ankles. She sat on the edge of her chair to slip off her shoes and extract her feet from the fallen pants. At Beck's gesture, she rose to her feet once again, now wearing only her bra and hose. She crossed her wrists self-consciously where her pubic triangle showed through the sheer fabric of her pantyhose.

Beck studied her silently for a moment, then said, "I can't say much for your choice of underwear. Take it off."

Face burning in shame, Mary complied, slowly pushing down her pantyhose. Her bare ass met the leather upholstery of the chair as she sat to remove the flimsy garment. Rising again, her eyes staring unfocused out the window behind Beck's head, she reached up to unfasten her bra. As it came off her shoulders, she dropped it unthinkingly to the floor.

"Turn around," Beck commanded. "Slowly."

Arms hanging limply at her sides, Mary turned woodenly before three sets of male eyes. Even in her dazed state, she was aware of the hungry looks they gave her, even her husband. Although 36 and the mother of three teenagers, she was very proud of her body. Strict dieting, three days a week at the health club and weekly visits to the beauty salon, as well as various cosmetic procedures by her friendly neighborhood plastic surgeon, gave her a face and body that could easily pass for ten years younger. Slender and firm, with an all-over tan, she had long, shapely legs, a tight little ass, flat tummy, and the best 36-C breasts money could buy. As she came back around, Beck was nodding appreciatively.

"I guess that answers the question of whether you're a natural redhead," he joked, looking down at her black pubes, which were cropped short and trimmed to a neat little triangle. Mary clenched her teeth, fighting back tears of shame as she was sized up like a pet for sale. Beck let his eyes wander over her body a minute longer before continuing. "Now then, Walter tells me you give a mean blowjob."

Mary's eyes flared wide, a fresh red flush creeping up her face. Walter had actually discussed her sexual prowess with his boss? But then again, it wasn't so surprising considering what a spineless worm he was. Unsure how to respond, she remained silent, dreading what she knew was coming next.

"Come around here and give me a demonstration."

Mary hesitated, but thinking of her kids and what was at stake, she started around the desk.

"Uh-uh," Beck stopped her with an upraised palm. "On your hands and knees," he commanded. "Crawl to me."

Mary stopped, staring in disbelief, but Beck's face was uncompromising. She realized what he was doing: showing her who was in control. But her knowing did not change the fact. She would have to endure whatever humiliation he threw at her, otherwise her family would be ruined. Reluctantly, she dropped to her knees, then her hands, and crawled on the thick carpet around to the back of the desk. Beck pushed his chair back, swiveling toward her as she neared. She stopped at his feet, awaiting further commands but none were forthcoming. Looking up, she saw the smug look on Beck's face. He raised one eyebrow expectantly, silently ordering her.

With her hands shaking uncontrollably, Mary reached for Beck's belt. She could see the bulge his cock was making in the front of his trousers and her hands brushed over it as she managed to unbuckle the belt and fumbled to unbutton his pants. Taking a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm her nervous trembling, she drew down the zipper and pulled the two sides apart. His cock popped out of the slit in his boxers before she was prepared and suddenly she was staring right at it from just inches away. She was mesmerized, staring at the largest cock she'd ever seen. It had to be at least 9 inches, nearly as thick as her wrist, straight as an arrow as it throbbed to full erection before her very eyes.

Beck let her stare at it for a long moment before he spoke. "Let's see just how good you really are," he challenged.

Startled out of her trance, Mary flushed with embarrassment again at being caught staring. Taking the enormous prick gingerly between her fingertips, she opened her mouth and, after one false start, closed her lips over it. After a few moments of warm-up in which she ran her lips and tongue over the bulging ridge of his cockhead, she worked into a rhythm, sucking hard as she bobbed her head up and down, slipping about half of the giant prick into her mouth. Then Beck's strong hands grabbed her head and pulled her down as he shoved his entire cock into her mouth, the bulbous head snaked down her throat.

"You're right, Walt. She does have a deep throat," Beck chuckled, holding Mary's head in place for a long moment before finally letting her back off.

Mary grasped the thick shaft in her fist as she pulled off it gasping for breath. Long strings of slobber hung from it to her mouth. Her eyes teared up. She barely had time to suck in a breath before Beck pulled her down again, forcing his big prick down her throat again, chuckling to himself as she struggled.

This time when he let her up, Mary pushed his hands firmly away from her head and immediately went back down on his prick before he could protest, deciding she'd be better off by giving him a more enthusiastic blow-job than letting him shove that thing down her throat and choke her to death. The sooner she got him off, the sooner this humiliating experience would be over. She began sucking in earnest, bobbing her head up and down fast, sucking lustily. Every tenth stroke or so, she would let the enormous prick slide down her throat, giving Beck the deep-throat action he so desired. A satisfied grunt told her how successful her efforts were.

Then suddenly, Beck pushed her off his cock and stood, letting his trousers fall. He unbuttoned the boxers and let them slide down also. Mary was left looking up at his towering figure, massive cock jutting out over her head. He yanked her to her feet and spun her around, bending her over the desk. His strong hand in the middle of her back pushed her down, mashing her tits against the desktop.

"Spread your asscheeks," Beck growled deeply.

Aware of her husband and the cold-faced lawyer watching intently, Mary complied with Beck's command. Grasping each firm globe in a hand, she pulled her crack open, exposing her asshole and making her pussy gape. She felt the big head of Beck's cock press against her. It slid up and down her slit, across her asshole and down over her distended clitoris. Mary whimpered in spite of herself. The juices seeping from the mouth of her cunt coated his cockhead.

Beck chuckled wickedly. "God damn, that pussy's wet! You want it bad, don't you baby?" he asked, continuing to tease her with the head of his cock. "You want my cock, don't you? Say it!"

"Yes, I want your cock" Mary whined, tears of humiliation stinging her eyes, whether it was from being abused by a virtual stranger, her husband and the other man watching it happen, or the fact that it was so obviously turning her on, she didn't know. She gasped as Beck's big cock pressed against her pussy.

"I knew you were a hot little bitch," Beck stopped with his cockhead poised at the entrance to her vagina. "Walt there said you weren't that interested in sex. Oh, he said you were good at it, but you could take it or leave it. But you and I know better, don't we?" he asked, emphasizing his question with a shove of his cock, wedging the big head an inch into her. "He says he hasn't fucked you for six months," Beck continued. "Now I know that hot little cunt hasn't gone six months without cock, has it?" He shoved another inch of cock into her, stretching her cunt wide. "Has it?"

"No," Mary admitted with a whimper.

"So who have you been fucking?" Beck asked, sinking another inch of cock into her burning pussy. When she did not answer, he slapped her asscheek hard and thrust even more of his big cock into her yielding pussy, demanding, "Who?"

"Randy!" Mary yelped.

"Ah, Randy," Beck sighed, as if her admission gave him as much pleasure as her body was. He shot an I told you so look at Walter, who looked on in impotent silence. "And who is this Randy?" Beck asked as his big hands grasped her hips. He slowly pushed his cock in to the hilt as Mary answered.

"H-he...unh...gives massages at th-...the health club," Mary stammered as her pussy was filled with cock.

"You fuck at the club?" Beck queried, pulling his cock out and plunging it back in.

"Yes," Mary gasped as Beck's big prick began sliding in and out in long, deliberate strokes. "I book a...ungh...massage every...*gasp*...Monday and Friday."

Beck's pelvis smacked into Mary's ass as he stroked into her more forcefully and continued his interrogation. "I thought you went to the health club three times a week. What happened to Wednesday?"

Mary gritted her teeth. How did he know so much? Was there anything Walter hadn't told him? She could barely think past that huge cock pounding into her creaming cunt.

"Wednesday is his day off," she muttered, grasping the edge of the desk as she was rocked again and again by the powerful man slamming his enormous cock into her. Beck's mocking laughter furthered her humiliation and her excitement. Knowing that her husband was helplessly watching gave her a perverse thrill as Beck jackhammered his huge dick into her faster and faster. Unable to control herself, a cry escaped her lips and she came with mind-numbing force.

Suddenly, Beck yanked his cock out of her with a wet sucking sound, leaving her spasming cunt grasping at air. He grabbed her by the hair and jerked her off the desk, spinning her around and pushing her to her knees just in time to catch the first spurt of his semen full in the face. He held her head with one hand and stroked his spurting cock with the other, sending gouts of hot cum onto her face and into her open mouth. Finally he plunged his cock into her mouth, allowing her to suck the last few drops of cum out of his deflating member. After she had licked it clean, he pulled away from her and began putting his pants back in order.