Toy of the Trade - 01 - the Split

Chapter 1: The Split (Age 18, Month 1)

Mei Young stepped off the bus as it hissed to a stop three blocks from Grayson Associates, the late afternoon breeze tugging at her yellow sundress. Her black hair spilled in loose waves past her shoulders, brushing the thin straps of her dress. The cotton clung to her frame, the hem teasing her mid-thigh--short, flirty, catching the light like a beacon.

In her hand, she clutched a white envelope, its edges creased from nervous fingers, a faint perfume lingering on the crisp typed note inside: Interview scheduled. Strong recommendation enclosed. No name, no hint--just a shove that hauled her downtown. Her heart raced as she weaved through honking taxis and suits rushing home--the tower looming ahead, its glass and steel glinting like a blade, her sandals slapping the pavement with each step.

Inside, the lobby hit her with cool air, marble floors gleaming under recessed lights. The faint echo of heels clicked somewhere distant. She smoothed her dress--soft but thin, hugging her hips--and bounced toward the reception desk, her voice tumbling out with a polished lilt. "Hi, I'm Mei Young--M-E-I Y-O-U-N-G. I'm here for an interview. Isn't this place amazing?"

The receptionist--blonde, prim, her hair in a severe bun--peered over the glossy counter, her smile sharp. "Mr. Grayson's waiting. Top floor, elevator's there." She paused, her smile fading. "Watch yourself up there."

Mei tilted her head, curious. "Oh? Why's that?"

No answer--just a curt nod toward the elevators, a shadow in her gaze that Mei missed, too giddy to notice. The elevator ride was a hum of mirrors and soft jazz, her reflection catching the light--small, poised, with a quiet elegance in her features, the envelope pressed tight against her chest.

---

Grayson slouched behind his massive oak desk, the office a den of leather and shadows, daylight glinting through slatted blinds.

On his screen, a gangbang video played--a blonde, petite girl, small tits bouncing as five huge Black men lifted her tiny frame. Three cocks filled her--mouth, pussy, ass--stretching her holes, while her hands gripped two more, stroking fast, her body a whirlwind of flesh and sweat.

He grunted, adjusting the bulge in his pants, arousal thick in his throat.

Three quick taps hit the door, and he snapped the video shut, the screen going black. "Come in, darlin'," he drawled, voice gravelly.

Mei pushed inside, stepping into the dim space, her sundress swishing. Grayson loomed--a hulking 50-something slab, broad chest straining his gray suit, face weathered with a scarred eyebrow and a crooked, yellow-toothed grin.

"Well, damn, ain't you a peach," he said, Southern twang thick, eyes raking her from sandals to thighs, lingering where the dress hugged her hips. "How old's a pretty thing like you?"

Mei giggled, twirling her hair--guys stared, no big deal--and plopped into the leather chair across from him, crossing her legs, hem riding up. "Hello! I'm Mei Young, your interview girl. I'm 18--it's my birthday today, isn't it wonderful?"

Grayson leaned back, chuckling low, sliding a folder forward but leaving it shut. "Eighteen today? Fresh as they come. I will give you a gift later, darlin'--somethin' special."

"Oh, how sweet!" She clapped, beaming, then noticed his hand shift under the desk, adjusting something. "Are you okay? Your pants look tight!"

He smirked, brushing it off. "Just gettin' comfy. Which Asian are you?"

She tilted her head, pleased. "I'm Korean--born here, though I've always felt connected to their stories and traditions."

His eyes sparked, hunger flaring. "Korean, huh? Got that exotic spice. Letter says someone big upstairs vouched hard--called you a fit."

"Who? Oh, tell me, please!" Mei leaned in, clutching the envelope tighter, its perfume stinging her nose.

Grayson waved a meaty hand, grin widening. "Don't matter. What matters is you're here, and I'm seein'... squat. No skills, no degree--you ever worked a reception?"

She pouted, shrugging. "I'm chatty. I'm friendly, I learn fast. I promise!"

His eyes darkened, voice dropping. "Oh, you'll learn. Need trainin', though--hands-on. Up for it?"

Her stomach fluttered--something slimy there--but her birthday excitement drowned it. "Absolutely! When do I start?"

Grayson stood, towering over her, shadow swallowing the desk. "How 'bout now? First, gotta look the part."

He yanked open a drawer, pulling out a black pencil skirt and white blouse, tossing them onto the chair beside her with a thud. "Change into these, darlin'. Can't have you prancin' around like you're off to a picnic."

Mei hopped up, grinning, the sundress swishing. "Oh, lovely! Dress-up time, isn't it?"

She snatched the clothes and moved to a corner near the window, the brightness outside casting her silhouette--her thigh gap a faint, enticing outline through the sundress as she peeled it over her head, yellow cotton sliding up her frame.

Grayson's breath hitched, his mind imagining her pussy--pink, tight, nestled in that gap, his cock twitching as he stared, tongue darting over his lips.

Her white bra--lace-edged, snug--hugged her perky breasts, nipples faintly visible, and matching panties clung to her firm ass, riding high on her hips.

She wriggled into the tiny skirt, barely past her thighs, tight as paint--oblivious to how it bared her legs, framed that gap and hugged her curves. "A bit short, don't you think? But so cute!" she giggled, smoothing it down, fabric stretching taut.

Grayson grunted low, eyes locked on her silhouette, her perfect features catching the dim light. "Turn around, darlin'--let me see," he rasped, voice thick.

She spun slowly, arms out like a fashion show. "Ta-da! How's this?"

The blouse was thin, nearly sheer, and she buttoned it up, fingers fumbling, cotton molding to her breasts, nipples shadowing through. "It feels fancy--do I look smart now?" she asked, twirling her hair.

"Perfect," he growled, stepping closer, cologne sharp and heavy, his bulk circling her, eyes devouring her legs, her ass, the skirt a tease he couldn't peel away from.

"Stay late--we'll get you oriented," he said, voice low, stepping back to the desk.

Mei clapped, bouncing, skirt riding higher. "After work? Let's do it!"

"Well, peach, I reckon we'll make you feel right at home," he drawled, leaning against the desk with a smirk. His eyes lingered on a photo poking out of her purse--her roommate, Hana. "Who's this peach? Another tight hole?"--eyes glinting before Mei snatched it back, giggling nervously, "Oh, just my sister--silly!"

---

The office emptied fast--phones fell silent, footsteps faded--until it was just them, city lights flickering outside. She perched on his the desk's edge, legs swinging, chattering. "So, what's first? Filing? Coffee runs?"

Grayson locked the door with a heavy click, and turned, grin gone, eyes black with hunger. "First lesson's simpler."

She tilted her head, stopping him with a cheerful wink. "And, uh, don't think I forgot about that gift you owe me!"

He smirked, stalking closer. "Comin' soon, darlin'."

He lunged, massive hands clamping her wrists, slamming her flat on the desk, her too-short skirt hiking to her hips, exposing her panties. She thrashed--"Wait, no, what are you doing?"--but his weight pinned her, one palm slapping over her mouth, muffling her yelp into a choked sob.

Her heart slammed against her ribs, panic clawing through her--his bulk crushed her, desk cold against her back, wrists bruising under his grip. She kicked, sandals flying off, bare feet scraping the floor, but he was a wall, breath hot on her neck.

"Shh, darlin', relax," he growled, yanking her blouse open, buttons popping across the room, white bra stark against her flushed skin.

She screamed into his palm--"Stop, please!"--but it was a whimper, her small body wriggling as he tugged her panties down her thighs, elastic snapping, leaving them tangled at her ankles.

---

He unzipped slow, the sound sickening, and his cock sprang free--thick, veined, head red and swollen, dripping precum that glistened in the dim light, musky and overpowering.

Grayson straddled her hips, sinking her deeper into the desk, grinding against her naked pussy beneath the skirt, suit fabric chafing her thighs, his cock sliding over her slit--not in yet--teasing, smearing precum across her folds, a hot, slick trail at her thighs.

She bucked, sobbing--"No, don't!"--shoving at his chest, nails scratching red streaks, but he laughed, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.

"Feisty little thing," he grunted, stroking himself with the other, letting precum drip onto her trembling stomach, each drop searing her skin like wax.

She struggled--minutes of grinding, thighs slick with his leak, body jolting under each press of his hips. Her sobs hitched, a cold spark flaring--I'll turn this, I will--as his head nudged her tight entrance, stretching her outer lips, poised to plunge.

Late-night spicy videos flashed--grunts, thrusts, moves she'd peeked at, half-understood but burned in. "Wait!" she gasped, voice raw, tears streaming. "Don't put it in--please, I'll do anything else! I'm a virgin!"

His cock twitched, eyes flaring with arousal, a growl rumbling deep. "Virgin, huh? Show me."

She nodded fast, chest heaving, and slid her trembling fingers down, spreading her pussy lips--revealing a tiny, tight hole, pink and glistening, barely a slit, framed by soft, untouched folds, quivering under his gaze, a delicate pucker kissed only by her own shy touch. "See? Please, don't!"

"Fuck, that's hot," he rasped, cock pulsing harder. "Make it good, then."

She slid off the desk, legs shaky, adjusting her too-short skirt, smoothing it over her hips, panties still at her ankles. "Okay, watch this," she whispered, forcing a smile, and started to strip--slowly, swaying her hips like those videos, peeling the torn blouse off her shoulders, letting it drop, her bra exposed, skirt staying on.

Grayson sank into his chair, eyes glinting, cock hard in his hand. "Fuck, yeah--keep goin'."

She unhooked her bra, sliding the straps down, small breasts bouncing free--pink nipples stiff, flushed--and cupped them, squeezing with both hands, lifting one to her mouth, tongue flicking over the nipple, wet and slick, tasting her own salt as she moaned soft. "You like these, don't you? Little tits for you," she ventured, watching his cock twitch.

"Damn right," he rasped, edging the tip of his dick with one finger, precum beading thick. "Get over here."

She stepped closer, skirt clinging, and straddled his lap, her small frame settling over his bare cock--thick and hot rubbing against her pussy under the skirt. She ground down, slow at first, hips rolling, the tight skirt riding up but staying on, his shaft sliding along her slit, precum soaking through, wetting her thighs, a sticky heat spreading.

Hana's ramen last night--salty, warm, her smile so soft. This isn't her hug. His cock's heavy, not like the screen--real, pressing me. Foster beds were cold, but I'd giggle under blankets, watching those thrusts. Now I'm here--grinding, winning--he's not in me yet.

"Shit, you're a tease," he grunted, hands gripping her hips, urging her harder, fingers digging into her flesh.

She grinned, shaky, feeling his arousal--control, friction--and leaned in, whispering, "Bet you love a tight slut grinding you--making you throb like in those late-night spicy videos." Her hips rocked faster, skirt bunching, his cock pulsing beneath her, slick and hard, her breath hitching as she kept it outside.

"Turn around," he growled, spinning her on his lap, her back to his chest, skirt still on.

She obeyed, with her back to him, her small hands cupping his cock--hot, slick--and edged him slow, her thumb circling the head, precum oozing over her fingers, coating them in a glossy sheen. "You want to cum for your dirty girl?" she purred, filth spilling out. "F-fuck my hands... like I'm your little fucktoy?"

"Squeeze me, like I am yours," she stammered, guiding his meaty palms to her boobs, his fingers squeezing hard, twisting her nipples 'til she gasped, red marks blooming like tiny bruises.

She stroked faster, then slow, edging him 'til his breath hitched, cock throbbing. "B-bet you'd love to pound my slutty mouth--use me?" she whispered, turning to face him, sliding to her knees, skirt bunched at her waist.

"Suck it--now," he growled, grabbing her hair, shoving her down 'til her lips parted wide, his cock filling her mouth, head hitting her throat.

She moaned around him, cheeks hollow, bobbing fast, tongue swirling, spit bubbling at the corners, hands stroking the base. "F-fuck my face... Daddy?" she mumbled, voice muffled, taboo faltering as he growled, "Louder, slut," his cock pulsing hard.

Foster homes--locked doors, whispers in the dark. I'd sneak those videos, heat under my skin, pretending I was bold. Now his cock's choking me, saltier than ramen, thicker than dreams. I'm winning, though--he's close.

"Goddamn, you're filthy," he grunted, fucking her mouth brutal, head battering her tonsils, her gag reflex kicking in, drool spilling down her chin, tears streaking as she gagged, a wet mess pooling on her chest.

She pulled back, gasping, hands jerking him. "C-cum for me--p-paint me?" she pleaded, pressing her tits together, skirt still on.

He yanked her up, straddling her chest on the desk, her small frame pinned under his bulk, thrusting between her boobs--cock sliding in her cleavage, slick with spit and precum, her hands squeezing as he fucked her tits, skin flushed and glistening.

"My fucktoy--take it," he rasped, grunting loud, cock pulsing--hot, thick cum erupting, splattering her chest, streaking her neck, dripping down her stomach, pooling in her lap, a sticky cascade marking her.

Her giggles died, throat raw--I'm safe, but where's my birthday gift?

---

Grayson stepped back. "Good start, kid."

He tossed her a rag, and she wiped herself, cum smearing the skirt, blouse gone. She bent to her purse, pulling out her yellow sundress--soft, a lifeline--and slipped it on, over her skirt, cotton brushing her thighs, hiding the wreckage.

She grabbed her sandals, virginity still hers, but his chair scraped back. "Where you goin'?"

His voice was low, dangerous, and she froze--his cock hardening again. "Always take the pussy," he said, stalking toward her, grin twisting. "Your tight little hole's too sweet--I'm claimin' it."

"No, I did everything!" she screamed, but he lunged, ripping the sundress from hem to neck, yellow tatters falling, her bare body exposed--panties at her ankles, skirt bunched.

He pinned her to the desk, her small frame helpless, forcing her legs wide, thighs quivering, that gap framing her vulnerability. His rough hands grabbed her tits, squeezing hard, twisting her nipples 'til she cried out, faint red marks blooming like scattered petals.

"Please, no!" she wailed, scratching his back, nails clawing streaks, but he thrust in--hard, deep, breaching her, her tight walls stretching around his fat cock. A sharp sting flared, blood mixing with a shameful heat, her cries trilling like a bird's song as he pounded.

Grayson smirked, "You're mine now," and slammed it down, hips driving faster, chasing her wail--her voice rising, melodic and piercing.

She clutched the crumpled letter beside her, nails digging in--Who sent this hell?--its perfume choking under his sweat. That letter lied--no job, just his cock splitting me. Videos didn't bleed--why's my body singing? Foster smoke choked me, his cigar's worse--I hate this but why am I quivering.

"Fuck, your Asian pussy's so tight--barely fits my cock," he grunted, hands gripping her hips, guiding her against him in a rhythm that drew out her song--he pounded 'til he groaned loud, unloading--hot, thick cum flooding her tight hole, spilling onto the oak, mixing with faint streaks of blood as her body trembled, caught between pain and an unwanted hum she couldn't name.

He pulled out, leaving her spent--clothes gone, body trembling, purse tipped over, letter crumpled beside her.

He smirked, wiping his cock on her torn sundress--"I guess you liked it, I broke you good."--his seed sinking deep, a new Mei stirring, clawing free, cold and sharp, from a fracture inside her laced with a dark spark as she lay there, silent.

Grayson lit a cigar, exhaling slowly. "Orientation's finished. Guess ya' won't be back tomorrow."

Mei curled up, trembling, staring at him--wordless, eyes hollow, the new Mei rising through the cum and wreckage, her psyche bending into something else.

---

Next morning, Grayson sat in his office, the air thick with cigar smoke. Three quick taps sounded on the door. "Come in, darlin'," he drawled.

Mei stepped inside, poised despite the faint tremble in her stance, her voice steady. "Your 10 AM meeting is ready--clients are waiting in the conference room."

Grayson's face went white, shock bleaching his weathered features. She turned and left, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving him staring, cigar dangling from his lips.