Punishment of a Blond

I waited in the bathroom at work. It's a spacious bathroom, cold with the sterile smell of industrial cleaner. The muffled sounds of the cafeteria kitchen can be heard through the back wall. I stand by the locked door in silent determination as I mentally undress the woman standing against the opposite wall holding my iPhone to record the coming event. Her brown hair rests unevenly on the grey suit jacket hiding her large breasts. She looks professional in her heels, skirt and jacket.

A soft knock at the door destroys the silence like a series of explosions. My heart stops as I dedicate my focus on what needs to happen.

I open the door slightly and a woman nervously side-steps into the dim room. I close and lock the door behind her. She is attractive with her blond hair stopping at her shoulders. For a few adrenaline punished seconds, my eyes take her in: her arms hanging idly at her side, the fullness of her hips, the gentle curve of her breasts as move with her anxious breath, the delicacy of her fine black slacks and the teasing opaque of her white button blouse, the subtle shades of her makeup and the modest deep red of her lipstick. Then she smiles.

In my periphery, I see the woman in the dress raise my phone and press "record."

My hand flies and slaps our blond victim square on the cheek, knocking her back into the wall. I pounce on her, my right hand squeezing her throat as I pin her against the wall, my left hand ripping her blouse open. The clatter of the buttons reverberate like gunshots on the floor over the sounds the kitchen and our scuffle. Fear is in her eyes as she gasped for breath, her hands clenched in obedient fists. I lean into her ear and spit "this what you want and deserve, bitch" as I roughly pull her bra aside. My hand shows no quarter as it twists and pinches and pulls her nipples, molesting her tits in a primal fashion.

The business woman moves to a corner of the room, and outside my reach, for a better angle to capture the rape as I push our victim to her knees. With a handful of her hair I yank her head back and notice a single tear smears her makeup. For a moment, it gives me pause as I uncouple my trousers. Is that tears of despair that my object is shedding? Tears of submission and obedience? Or are they tears of happiness and fulfillment?

Movement from my business partner as she jockeys for a view snaps me back to reality. I don't care about the tears. I want this blond bitches mouth on my cock. With her head pulled back, I shove my cock to the back of her open mouth. She immediate choked and tries to pull back. I straddle her knees and she raises her hands to steady herself. With both of my hands, I grasp the back of her skull and violently face fuck her. The sound of her gagging and choking on my cock is an orchestra of pleasure. Our videographer moves close and leans forward to capture the agony of our victim and the uncontrollable ropes of saliva bridging her mouth to the veined nine inches of male vanity violating her face.

I pull out and pause my assault, giving my slave a chance to breathe. I reach down and gently grab a rope of her saliva and affectionately run it down my business partner's neck, from her jawline to the inside of her blouse to her cleavage. She shudders in obvious excitement and submission.

"Get back to the video," I calmly order. The brunette 30-something retreats back to the wall and returns her focus to the matter at hand.

"Get on your hands and knees," I command our victim, now visibly shaken. Another slap to her face reminds her of my unmovable authority and draws a slight trickle of blood from her bottom lip. Her cheeks is a mess of tear-stained makeup as the blood and heat rushes to my handprint on her face.

In broken submission, our blonde assumes the ordered position. As a man obsessed, I force her black slacks to her bent knees and rip away the thin fabric of the panties. Her tits, one hanging free, the other cupped by Victoria's Secret, bounce uncontested. She is exposed to me. Her pussy is smooth and freshly shaved. A hint of excitement escapes her labia. Only one thing will satisfy me today. Only one thing will satisfy my need to humiliate this woman, my need to violate and express my dominance, my need to inflict pain on this soul.

Her anus winks as she sobs softly.

I spread her cheeks apart and spit on the object of my violation. I shove three fingers into her cunt to collect what lubrication I can and mix it with the saliva on the head of my spear. I position myself behind my subject as my brunette videographer squats in front of our victim so that she can capture the exact moment of violation on her face. My business partner's dress is opened as she squats unladylike. I see her naked cunt. It feeds my frenzy. I grunt loudly as I force myself into the ass of our blond.

The penetration was expressed in a loud sob of pain through gritted teeth and tears. Her hands claw at the tile floor. I hook my hands firmly around her fleshy hips and thrust my cock over and over and over again, deeper and deeper and deeper. My purpose is to make her yelp at each inch of every thrust. I ignore my own pain as the limited lubrication gives way to friction. The slap of my pelvis against her round ass is too loud for our environment, and any colleague who walked by on their way for a cigarette break would undoubtedly recognize the sound of passionate bodies. But I do not care. I am on a mission.

Finally, the time has come. My balls were aching to explode my seed, and I can feel the welcome familiar tingle in my loins. I pull out of the blond's ass, and my partners yanks the blond's hair back on cue, a sneer of jealousy and satisfaction on her face.

I cum. Hard.

Streams of white semen streak the blond's face. Again. And again. And again. My cum is like thick icing on her, slowly cooling and dripping. The brunette leans in close, purring seductively and licks a large glob off of the blond's ear. I chuckle at my accomplishment and power.

"Use my cock to to replace her makeup," I tell my colleague. The blond gets back to her knees. The brunette gently maneuvers the head of my manhood across the blondes face, evening out the icing.

"Your new clothes are in the corner," I inform the blond, "clean yourself up & make yourself presentable again. But DO NOT clean the cum off of your face. Don't leave this room until it dried and wear it for the rest of the day. When you get home, make sure your boyfriend kisses you and tastes me.

"Have you learned your lesson?" I ask.

"Yes, sir," the blond responds meekly.

The brunette hands me my phone. I put it in my pocket and slip a hand under her skirt. Her thighs a dripping, her cunt hot with need. "Go home and tell your husband what happened today. Tell him he has my permission to fuck you."

"Thank you," she replies with a sigh of frustration.

I open the door to leave. The hall is vacant. The brunette and I leave to return to our desks, leaving the blond to reflect on the events of the last ten minutes. The large bathroom is heavy with the stench of abusive sex and the muffled clanks of the cafeteria kitchen. The blond, knees shaking, smiles in satisfaction.