This story contains sexual exchanges and activities between adult males, both consensual and non-consensual, and scenarios involving punishment/torture, bondage, domination/submission, humiliation, and exhibitionism. If you can't bear to read such stuff or if it's illegal for you to do so, please stop reading right here. Otherwise, enjoy!
This story is about a submissive young (22-year-old) gay asian male who's gone to work for a multi-national company as a programmer, only to discover that his caucasian supervisor is a sadistic, boi-loving man bent on dominating him and using him for his carnal pleasures. Just to put things into perspective, our protagonist is slim, small and stands at only 5'2" (small even for asian standards), while his supervisor is big, hairy and stands at a beefy 6'4".
Comments and suggestions welcome at: sub_casey@yahoo.com.
Office Slut - Part 2 (M/m, reluc, interr, humil, exhib)
by Casey
"Come over here," the private message from you flashes on my screen.
Demurely, I get up from my seat and make my way to your cubicle. It is mid-morning and the office is busy with people going to and fro on their respective businesses. A few colleagues accost me along the way and I return their remarks and smiles, although in truth my mind is no longer registering what they say. My heart has begun to beat fast the moment I got your message, and all I can think of as I make my way to your desk is what you could possibly want to do to me with the office so full of people.
When I arrive, you pull up a chair and motion for me to sit down beside you on your left.
"Unbuckle your belt," you whisper quietly to me as I sit down. "And unbutton your pants". In a louder voice, you begin to talk to me about some document and where I have gone wrong in preparing it. One or two colleagues who are passing by smile knowingly and sympathetically at me as I sit there blinking like a fool.
The commands are so unexpected that it makes me hesitate, but I know better than to disobey so with slightly trembling hands I begin to undo my belt buckle and then the button at the top of my pants.
"Faster next time, bitch" you hiss under your breath. "Or I swear I'll make you cum in your pants and walk all around the office all day with cum stains on your crotch."
I nod in fear, my eyes not meeting yours, but my treacherous cock jumps at the threat.
"Now lean forward, as if you're studying the reports."
As you continue lecturing me on the reports, your left hand slips down my back and into my loosened up trousers. "A bit more, bitch" you order me as your shoulder nudges my own forward. I obey, allowing your hand to reach past my shirt-tails and into my asscrack.
"Hmm.. this wouldn't do," you murmur. "Undo your zipper all the way."
I let out a low whimper of protest as you effectively order me to undress in a room full of people, but I can do nothing but obey. My little cock twitches violently inside the lacy girl panties that you ordered me to wear for the day.
Once my zipper is undone, you push your hand deeper into my pants, slipping it under the elastic band of my panties to cup my left butt-cheek. After a few seconds of massaging my globes, you reach further in, running your index and middle fingers down my crack until they are positioned just outside my nether entrance. Then, in one smooth motion, you hook your middle finger and stab it into my boycunt, eliciting a startled gasp from me. You push the thick digit in as far as you can, which in that position means only up to the second knuckle. A passing colleague looks up from her photocopied document with a quizzical look, probably at my sudden not-so-quiet gasp, but at a smile from you continues on her way.
It is all I can do to keep from moaning and whimpering as you finger-fuck me virtually in full view of all of our other co-workers, all the while explaining to me about the mistakes I made when generating the reports. After a couple minutes or so you add another finger to the one currently ravaging me and redouble the speed of the fuck. "You see that," you say loudly, your hand working my boycunt hard enough to actually lift me off the chair at every in-stroke. "The total is wrong, you forgot to take into account the previous year's balance. Do you understand?" The question is emphasized with a particularly vicious jab of your fingers. "Y-nnnggghh! Yes Sir!" Oh god. Now everyone's going to know that there's something weird going on. You grin down at me, relishing my red-faced embarrasment.
After a few more minutes of the molestation, you pull your hand out from under my panties and bring your arm around the other side of me. I realise I've been breathing hard and try to relax, but then I see your assjuice-stained fingers in front of my face, wiggling as if inviting me to taste them. You bring them closer and nudge my lips with them.
"Suck it. Suck my fingers clean of your own pussyjuice," you whisper to me.
Once again I am mortified but have no choice. I steal a glance around to make sure that no one is looking - earning me an angry look from you - and then start to take the fingers in my mouth. You stick them as far into my mouth as possible, rolling them around inside to make sure I clean them real good. By now I am used to the taste of my own assjuice and have grown to like it, but slurping it up in public view is something else altogether. Once you are satisfied, you pull your hand away and delve it back inside my pants to resume the finger-fuck.
The second time you bring your hand back out, you also do something that chills me to the bones.
"Hey Steve," you call out to the guy who sits across the partition in front of you as you bring your fingers closer to my lips. "Can you do me a favour?"
"Yeah?" I can see a flash of movement as Steve begins to stand up, and as I feel the blood rush to my face in a hot flush of shame and indignance, I do the only thing that crosses my mind at the time. I close my eyes.
"Can you print out the monthly report from the old system?" I hear you say as your fingers press against my lips, forcing it to open. You are pushing really hard and I can feel your body tensing up in anger at my resistance. All sorts of thoughts are tumbling in my head as the reality of the situation dawns on me. But right at the back of each thought is the fear, the fear of what you would do to me if I disobey you now. So, reluctantly, my lips begin to part, little by little allowing your finger to enter my oral cavity.
"I need our boy here to compare the two reports," you continue, putting a notable emphasis on the word 'boy'. My mouth is now fully open and your two fingers are pushing deep inside. "Oh yeah and print the annual reports, too, in case those don't tally as well," you say as you roll your fingers around on my lips, urging me to do my part. With my face surely still flaming with humiliation, I begin to lick and suck on them. Despite the shock of being exposed in such a degrading manner to a colleague, my cock is now hard again and straining against the see- through material of my panties, a fact concealed only by the position of my body against the edge of your desk.
"Well... sure," I hear Steve say.
A few seconds pass without a sound and I open my eyes, only to see Steve staring at me. For some reason I can neither close my eyes again nor look away, so there we are, me sucking on your fingers like a child with a lollypop and Steve looking on in fascination. Then he blinks and, after an unreadable glance at you, plops down back on his seat.
You twist my head around by using the fingers in my mouth until I am looking into your eyes. You grin as you see the silent tears in mine.
Then you lean down to my ear. "Don't give me any of that teary-eyed shit," you whisper harshly. "I know you like to be shown off like this, like the depraved little slut that you are. I know that deep down, you want them all to know what you are. You want the whole world to know what you are. A slutboy. A fucktoy for men to use and abuse as they want. Otherwise your little boyclit wouldn't be so hard as it surely is now, would it?"
Nothing about me is hidden from you. You know things about me that even I have never known before, and by knowing, you are able to control me completely, treating me like nothing more than your sex puppet. I stiffle a sob, but a drop of tear runs down my left cheek.
You take your fingers away then and shove your hand one last time into my pants. You stab the fingers into my open, twitching hole, twisting them around hard to get all the remaining juices in my ass. Then you pull your hand out and, instead of shoving your fingers in my mouth, you spread your hand and smear the ass-juice all over my face. I can smell and taste the pungent aroma of my boycunt, and in despair realise that I will have to spend the rest of the day with my face smelling of my ass. How many other people in the office will also know it by the day's end?
"There you go," you pat me on the back. "Now go back to your desk. Go on, get the hell out my sight, boy!" As you say the last sentence, you pull me up by one arm and propel me away from you. It is all I can do to grab at the front and back of my pants to make sure they don't fall around my feet. I keep my eyes on the floor, my cheeks flaming with utter humiliation as I make my way awkwardly towards my cubicle. I know that it is impossible for everyone to miss the sight, and that at least a few sets of eyes would even then be widening in shock at my predicament. My mind rages at the injustice of your treatment of me, but my hard cock tells me that the wicked submissive streak in me enjoys it immensely.
"Are you okay?" a voice asks me once I am seated back on my seat, my pants zipped up and my belt buckled back on. I look up and realise Jason is about halfway to my cubicle.
"Yes.. Yes I'm fine," I smile at him wanly, all the while terribly conscious of the wetness on the skin of my face.
"You sure?"
I can only nod slightly.
"Well, okay. But you might want to tuck your shirt in more properly. The boss doesn't like it if we look sloppy." He smiles and moves away.
I feel around my back and realise that my shirt is half tucked-in and half bunching out of my pants. Hurriedly I shove all of it inside, hoping that Jason didn't think more of it than he appeared to.
As I look back up my eyes catch a glimpse of myself in the small mirror I keep on my desk at your insistence. I can see the mussed up hair and collar, the red flush of shame on my cheeks, and most of all the strips of wetness criss- crossing my face, the gooish mixture of saliva and assjuice that mark me as a fuckboy, a little cuntslut whose destiny is to be used and molested by boy-hungry men like you through every waking moment, for the rest of my life.