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Date: Fri, 21 Mar 2025 23:48:56 -0700
From: Hey All <heyallstories@gmail.com>
Subject: Pantyhose Stress Test (bisexual, authoritarian)

"Pantyhose Stress Test" by HeyAll / co-written by R.


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xxx


People fucking in the office is nothing new.  Anyone `in the know' has
stories about hookups, romance and dating, and then of course women
fucking for promotions -- I know two women who've done it.  I've just
never seen the act with my own eyes, until now.


I'm sitting alone in the security room, soaked beneath my panties,
watching an erotic encounter happening.  In a casual, fast paced work
environment like this, people tend to forget that cameras are
everywhere.  Don't worry, my boss told me to be here.


The woman's name is Rosey and it's awkward because I was part of the
committee who recommended hiring her.  She's a young blonde, a late
20's trader who monitors real-time market conditions, and she's on her
knees in the supply room sucking a dick.  The guy is much older, one of
the few black men working here, and he's a big portfolio manager which
means he has influence.


Rosey works in a different department but she could get a nice promotion
working for this guy, her salary could increase, all for taking the right
dick in her mouth.  Trashy but understandable.  I've spent a lot of time
with Rosey over the last year, believe me, she wouldn't be sucking this
guy off without his job title.


I don't feel guilty for watching them.  The security personnel have
probably seen this plenty throughout the years.  Fact is, if you pull
your cock out somewhere in the office, you assume the risk.  Simple as
that.


The question is, why is this being shown to me?


I stand and fix my outfit, adjusting my panties so I walk with dignity
while having a wet pussy.  When I leave the room, I inform the security
person that I'm done and he goes back inside.  Does he know what I was
supposed to be watching?  Regardless, don't get on his bad side.  He
probably has dirt on everyone watching those cameras all day.


On the way to my boss's office, I take a detour around the supply room,
waiting for Rosey and the guy to leave, and I catch them acting like
everything is normal.  As if Rosey's breath doesn't smell like cum.
They pretend to talk about yesterday's football game while I head to the
boss's office to see what this is about.


Lawson is the only woman I know who can always have messy hair,
mismatched clothes, never smiles, yet still looks respectable sitting
behind a desk.  I'm convinced that it's her thick framed glasses which
give her that aura.  Nonetheless, finances are like sports, the numbers
speak for themselves, and she brings in the numbers.


"The other day I read this article about the `08 market crash," Lawson
says.  "People smart enough to buy that colossal dip became rich."

"Well, the stock market is designed to go up.  It has a 100% success
rate over time."

"A principle far too many people have forgotten.  Except for you.  I've
always felt that you have a strong temperament.  I appreciate that."


"I'm sorry, but are we talking about stock market philosophy, or the
security footage of Rosey that you wanted me to watch?"

"They're the same topic," she says.

"How?  The up and down, back and forth?"

"If Rosey wants to give blowjobs for a promotion, good for her, but I
was curious how you'd respond emotionally, if you'd overreact or not.
I'm looking for someone who's calculated and composed."


"Sorry, what exactly are we talking about?" I ask.


"I want to promote you to Portfolio Manager but under new evaluations
I've made up.  The standards are totally arbitrary.  Who knows, it might
be fun."


You can never get too excited around Lawson because, despite the point
she just made, she's known to be unpredictable with her ideas. I want
the promotion. But I try to be cool about it.  With the rising cost of
living in this city and the prospect of getting married soon, I need the
pay raise and she knows it.


We clarify the terms of how this new evaluation could work.  One thing
I'll always give Lawson credit for is, she's a woman of her word.  If
she gives a promise, then she stands by it.  And right now it's looking
like she's giving me more than I ever expected, give or take a few
issues.

"First we should address your wardrobe," she says.  "You've got nice
legs, show them off.  Pantyhose or stockings, always."


Lawson reaches into the drawer and places a stack of packaged
undergarments on the desk.


"Oh, don't worry about that, I have plenty at..."


"Not this brand.  Wear these for a while, grow into them, it's part of
the evaluation."

Later that evening I get back to my apartment and wear the undergarments
Lawson gave me.  It's more provocative than what I'd normally wear.
Fashion is a tricky thing for professional women, something men will
never understand, and it's a delicate balance that requires experience.
Show too much and you're trashy.  Too conservative and that speaks to
your personality.  You want to look nice, you want to be appealing, but
you don't want to send the wrong message.


The fishnet stockings she gave me aren't something I'd ever wear to
work.  Too provocative.  But I can dress it up, I'll have to compensate
by wearing a thicker, buttoned up top along with an office skirt which
goes down to my knees.  I'll also need stylish boots to cover the lower
half of my legs.


Returning to the office with my updated appearance is where the challenge
begins.


Skirts are a normal thing and men enjoy taking sly glances at the women
wearing them.  With my new wardrobe, I'm more perceptive than ever.
I'm getting more glances than usual.  Most of the looks are from walking
downtown before getting to this building, where men don't have a problem
being overt with their gazes.  In the office it's more subtle, a split
second look when they won't be caught, but I'm good at noticing these
things.


Stocks have dropped big time this week and it puts into perspective
everything Lawson is doing.  She's right in that regard, even the most
seasoned investor tends to express some form of panic during market
corrections.  The bigger the correction, the more their personalities
tend to show.


There are three spectrums of traders during market drops.


"We're fucked."


"Buy the dip!"


"So what are we having for lunch?"

I'm always on the side of buying dips because the market is designed to
go up.  Although young in this industry, I've been around several dips
before, with covid being the worst.  That happened a year after I started
working here.  I think that's what Lawson sees in me and why she thinks
I'm ready for a promotion.  As you've probably noticed, the financial
industry rewards bold strategies and calculated risks, especially if it
turns a profit.


xxx


Tuesday morning she calls me into her office.  Lawson is talking on the
phone while fixing her appearance in front of a full-length mirror.  Her
jacket is off, her blouse is so loose that I can tell she's braless,
with her nipple threatening to show as she tries fixing her hair.


When the call ends she straightens her blouse and wears her jacket,
covering the nipples which are poking through the front.  She's pleased
with the way she looks, that messy, yet sexy appearance that only someone
in her position can get away with.


"Busy today?" she asks.


Lawson steps out of her heels to stand barefoot on the carpet.  She walks
around to grab a pair of stockings and dress shoes to wear.


"The usual.  Obviously with the sell-off, people are panicking."

"But not you."

"Not anytime soon."

Lawson smiles, and while her dress shoes remain on the floor, she walks
barefoot to me while holding her stockings.  We're standing so close
that I can smell the lavender and see the glint in her eyes and the few
strands of grey in her hair.


"You know I'm a bitch, right?" she asks.


How is anyone supposed to answer that?  Be cool about it.


"Kind of."

"Glad we agree.  Clear your schedule for today. Time for the
examination.  Will you masturbate if I make that request?"


I take a deep gulp.  "What do you mean?"

"Your reputation will be safe.  Promise.  I need you to masturbate for
the examination."

How bad could it be?


"Sure, if that's what it takes."


I try to be nonchalant, like I'm one of the girls, like I'm capable of
being on her level, that she can trust me with personal matters.  That
I'm not some prude.  That I'm effortless like her.  It works, she
smiles. Being desperate or uncertain is always a bad look in business,
being cool is always better.


Lawson guides me to her desk and I find it sexy that she's walking
around barefoot.  Her desk is neat and minimalist with multiple screens.
She has me sit in her spot, on the leather chair.  While she tells me the
password, she starts putting on her stockings.


"Make yourself comfortable.  Look at the designated files.  Enjoy
yourself."


She kisses me on the cheek, her lips close to mine, and she whispers in
my ear that she has eyes everywhere, that she expects me to have a nice
orgasm. It's her letting me know that she's excited about the prospect
of me cumming in her office, right in the spot where she works everyday.


After putting on her stockings and shoes and grabbing her purse she gives
me another kiss and then leaves.  There are multiple screens on Lawson's
desk observing the stock market.  I have limited access to her files on
the computer, but there's one folder with my name.  I click on it.
There are video clips dating back years, surveillance, just like what I
saw last week.


My opinion, Lawson knows I'm qualified for a promotion, but she's
titillated having me watch this.  I play her game, knowing she `has eyes
everywhere' as she said before she rushed out of here.   I wonder where
her cameras are.  I don't even want to look for them, it'll make me
look weak.


I click on a random video dated three years ago.  It's security footage
taken at night on the trading floor.  The place is empty except for a guy
with a messed up shirt, leaning back at his desk.  It takes me a moment
to realize it's Richard who's a friend of mine.  It takes me another
moment to realize there's a ponytail bobbing up and down from beneath
the desk.  I forward the video and see the woman standing and fixing her
dress.  I have a few ideas of who she might be, but it's not worth
thinking about.  There are plenty of young women who've come and gone
over the years, happy to suck dick for a bonus.


Another video from last year shows Pamela in her office recorded from a
hallway camera.  She still works here, a blonde portfolio manager in her
mid-50's, and she's riding some guy's cock on the center of her desk.
This is a woman who's mentored me over the years, she's mentored lots
of young women.  Her blouse is still buttoned but her skirt is hiked
while she rides and she runs her fingers through her hair.  It's hard to
watch given all she's done for me.  Without a doubt, she'd never speak
to me again if she knew I masturbated to her sex video.


Scrolling through the thumbnail images, I see a file with a star next to
it, dated last month.  This is what I presume Lawson wants me to
masturbate over.  Anything could be on that video.  A billionaire client
getting fucked, someone in the top brass getting oral, perhaps Lawson
herself getting railed in this office, which at this point wouldn't
surprise me.


I click and watch.


My boyfriend Eric came to visit me last month for lunch.  He works for an
investment bank across the street and I remember he took me to a nearby
Thai restaurant that day.  We've had serious talks about living together
to see if we'd be compatible for marriage.


He's in the video I'm currently watching.


And he's getting a blowjob from Savannah, a foxy redhead, one of my best
friends here.


I can feel the blood draining from my face as I watch the footage.  It's
an angle of them in a conference room with the door closed and they're
visible through the blurry glass wall.  I still remember that day,
telling Eric that I needed an extra twenty minutes before we could go
eat.  That's what he did with his time, sneaking off to get his dick
sucked.  No wonder he seemed so relaxed during lunch.


The urge to scream and cry has never been so great.  But I've always
been able to keep my emotions in check.  I was raised that way by strict
parents.  That's why I'm good at my job.  And if I can't have my
relationship and potentially a marriage with this guy, there's no point
in crying about it, because at least I'll have a promotion.  In a
twisted moment like this, it feels like my career is all I have, and
it's what defines me.


My legs spread and I touch myself through my clothes, even knowing this
will be recorded.  Then I step out of my shoes and pull my clothes down
and place them on the desk.  I'm naked from the waist down, having never
done this before in the workplace.  Where does Lawson keep her security
cameras?  On the ceiling like normal security?  Or is she such a pervert
that she has a camera below the desk, staring right into pussy?


I replay the video and begin to masturbate because I assume this is what
Lawson wants.  I've been cheated on before, if you date enough times--
especially in the city -- there's a great chance it'll happen to you.
But I never thought I'd masturbate from seeing it.  And yes, it's
difficult.  I'm not a pervert or a masochist.


What makes it easier is fixating on Savannah's mouth as she's on her
knees sucking.  I try to find the humor in seeing her debase herself,
even though it's the same cock that I suck on a regular basis, being in
that same position.  From the distant camera view, I watch her lips
around the erection, her head back and forth, then she strokes and
swallows everything that shoots in her mouth.


I make myself cum watching this and I wonder why it was so easy.  As
someone with a large labia, I've always been shy about revealing it to a
lover and I've always been uneasy about letting a partner watch me
masturbate.  Now I have Lawson's eyes on me.  Could that be why?  The
thought of Lawson having a camera under the desk and seeing what I have
gives me a rush.  But then again I'm experiencing a whirlwind of intense
emotions and it's impossible to pinpoint what each is doing.


Bumping into Savannah on the trading floor is my first major test.  I
smile, do the usual small talk, and pretend like she isn't sucking my
boyfriend behind my back.  At one point I make her laugh with a snide
comment about a guy in the office and she playfully slaps my arm.  I
resist the temptation to slap her across the face.


In the evening I get back to my apartment and break up with my boyfriend
over text message.  A clean break.  He thinks it's a cruel joke until I
mention Savannah, then he stops begging to talk things over.  Without
admitting guilt he apologizes for things not working out.  I put my phone
down and start crying.


xxx


Per the latest instructions, I return to Lawson's office the next
morning.  She kisses me on the cheek and leaves in a hurry.  She's busy
all morning with potential new clients who are willing to put a hundred
million dollars under our management.  Nothing about yesterday was
mentioned, nothing about my feelings or what I saw, or what she saw me
doing.  All part of the test, right?


Following her orders I strip down and remove my bra and underwear.  Then
I dress again and leave my undergarments in her closet.  I also wear
expensive pantyhose that she thought would match my skintone.   This is
how she wants me to work for the next few hours and I sit behind her desk
and access my account.


Stocks are a mixed bag yet again.  International conflicts and tariff
wars are wreaking havoc on certain industries but bitcoin related stocks
are soaring, while AI stocks have already bottomed.  I don't buy, I
don't sell.   I just watch.


Working in Lawson's office is so comfortable that I put my shoes aside
and pace the room in pantyhose and a cup of coffee.  I look at the view,
I look at the artwork in her minimalist styled office, and I take a
moment to decompress.


An hour before lunch when I'm most relaxed, the door opens and I'm
caught sitting on the couch with my legs crossed, looking at my phone.  A
man and woman enter, both sharply dressed and confident, middle aged.  I
stand and we make quick introductions; they're Mr. Hargroves and Ms.
Anwarzai, the potential clients Lawson had spoken about earlier.


"You must be the rising star we've heard about," he says.


"And your outfit is really making a statement," she says.


I've been so relaxed in this office that I'd forgotten that I'm
braless beneath my top and my feet are visible through the sheer
pantyhose.  When they entered I didn't think fast enough to fix my
appearance.  This doesn't seem to bother them, my lack of professional
dress, in fact their eyes make it clear that they like what they see.  As
if they came here expecting something nice to look at.  Their eyes go up
and down my body, my pantyhose and braless chest, Anwarzai is the most
brazen and she even licks her lips.


"Lawson's eye for talent is impeccable," she says.  "We'd love to
get to know you better."


Ms. Anwarzai not only eyes me, but she uses her index finger to brush
against the inside of my top, almost revealing my big nipple, but she's
careful to avoid that.  We sit on the couch with me in the middle.  I can
feel their eyes on my legs and occasionally my top.  I'm mindful of not
letting a nipple slip.


We talk about the current volatility of the stock market and what
strategies should be employed and they pivot to my experience.  It's
like a job interview and I turn on the charm offensive, even dressed the
way I am.  They're impressed by my philosophy on trading while openly
assessing my appearance.


"This talk about highs and lows is getting me hard," Hargroves says.


It wasn't necessarily directed toward me, it was a light-hearted comment
that lingers in the air.  To me, his nonchalant description of the state
of his penis is awkward because jokes like that are outdated in
professional settings, especially if the room is mostly women, but
Anwarzai is amused.  Like sex is a topic they commonly joke about.


"Well in that case," she says.


She gives a faint giggle, breaking from how she normally presents
herself, and she sinks to her knees between the man's legs.  Hargroves
pants get unzipped.  Slides down.  A hard dick points straight up.  She
starts stroking and looks at me and asks if I mind.  I shake my head no.
Then she starts to suck.  A sophisticated financial woman with a cock in
her mouth.


The last time I was around brazen sex acts was back in college when I was
a shy student.  I still remember the arousal I felt, how I was unable to
look away.  But that happened with my female roommate, an aspiring
sorority girl, and the guy was on the football team.  That was her
initiation to be able to pledge.


What's happening in front of me is something different, two people who
are in charge of massive amounts of money, engaging in a casual sex act.
Anwarzai locks eyes with mine as her head bobs.  Her chic wardrobe costs
twice what mine does.  She's a beauty.  And she's so comfortable doing
this that she must have done it countless times before.


She holds the cock with one hand while sucking, with her other hand she
reaches over and touches my thigh, stroking the pantyhose.  She feels its
texture and she likes it.  Her hand strokes up and down my thigh, briefly
touching my calves.  Then her hand goes between my legs, as if knowing
that I'm not wearing any panties, as if privy to that kind of
information, and she touches me bare.


I let her finger my wet pussy while she's sucking and it's easily the
hottest moment of my life.  Her two fingers crook inside my tight little
hole and she hits my gspot.  The man moans.  She moans too.  When the
cock is on the verge of orgasm, she sucks harder and fingers my pussy
faster.


As the novice of the group, I cum first, leaking onto the couch and
wetting Anwarzai's fingers.   She winks at me while swallowing cum from
the erupting penis in her mouth.  She's getting exactly what she wants
out of this exchange, which is to be watched and admired for her blowjob
skills, while giving me pleasure in the process.


When they finish Hargroves pulls his pants up and zips.  There are no cum
stains.  Everything had been swallowed.  Only saliva is left, which he
doesn't mind.  Anwarzai stands and fixes her outfit, wiping her lips with
the back of her hand.


"You have many admirable qualities," she says.  "Doing business with you
should be a breeze.  We'll keep in touch."


We exchanged handshakes and pleasantries as if this were an ordinary
meeting.  Dirty handshakes, I should note, given what Anwarzai had been
touching.  They leave the office, satisfied with what just happened, and
I wonder what I've gotten myself into.


x


Lawson gave me erotic undergarments to wear in my apartment along with a
small box.  There's still daylight outside and I get naked while
Lawson's things are on my bed.  Her undergarments are provocative.  The
bras are new, she was able to guess my size, but the panties aren't.  I
can tell she's worn these panties before and gets a rush knowing I'll
be wearing them as well.


One of the undergarments is a matching bra and panties set, but they're
attached together with elastic threads, which creates a form of bondage.
Is this her ultimate goal for me?  To turn me into someone who does more
than just make money?


I wear that one first.  I look at my reflection in the mirror, turn my
body to different sides to check my appearance, then I imagine wearing
this in Lawson's office as different clients take turns fucking me.
She's never actually said that.  I can imagine that's her wish.  As I
move, the threads tighten and loosen in different areas, almost like a
sensual hug.


The small box contains a vibrator along with a handwritten note telling
me to use it, and to record myself using it, then to send it to her.  My
rationale remains the same, I've already come this far to give up.
She's already seen me masturbating on a security cam and I'm sure she
knows what those prospective clients did to me.  Plus it had been a long
time since I used a vibe, which was several years ago when a wild former
roommate insisted that I borrow hers as a means to relax.


I activate the recorder on my phone and prop it on a table.  Not an easy
decision giving someone an intimate recording of me, but I'm aroused
enough to explore this further.  I lay on the bed and let the humming
sound of the device fill the room.  As I touch the vibrator to my most
sensitive area, I gasp at the intensity of the sensations. I imagine
Lawson watching the video.  I imagine her playing with her pussy.  The
pulsating sensation goes deeper into my pussy and nearly touches my
g-spot.  I usually don't like cumming twice a day, but this is an
exception.


My mind goes back to what happened in the office earlier, I imagine
myself in Ms. Anwarzai's position, on my knees, cock in my mouth.  From
the way things are headed I'll be working with them plenty.  I'm sure
she'll want her pussy eaten.  I'm sure the guy will be fucking my
brains out at some point.  Bent over the desk or couch, Hargroves shoving
his cock inside me, using the office as his means of relief.  Important
clients always feel entitled.  The buzzing sensation of the vibrator
pushes me over the edge and my orgasm seems to go on forever.


x


The next day Lawson tells the secretary to hold her calls and only allow
a select few to enter the office.  I'm asked to strip again, this time in
front of her, and I wear my clothes again minus the bra and panties.
Minus heels as well, I only have pantyhose down below. Getting naked in
front of her isn't that daunting given all she's already seen.


I'm instructed to sit behind her desk again.  She gets a pair of wrist
restraints and tells me to keep my hands down.  Each wrist gets bound to
the armrest.  She's so casual about this, so proficient at restraining,
that I wonder who else she's done this to.  When it's done, I'm
helpless.  I could have voiced my concern but I didn't.  I never
attempted to resist.  My pussy wouldn't let me.


Most of the screens on the desk display market movements and stock
trades.  She opens a file on the screen in front of me, surveillance
videos showing me nude or masturbating in this office, along with what
happened yesterday with the blowjob on the couch. I want to slither under
a rock when I see the footage I sent yesterday of the masturbation scene
in my apartment.   I'm floored by how she's flaunting these secrets.


"Looks like you really want that promotion," she says.  "You'd make a
great portfolio manager."


I turn my head away from the screen because of the humiliation.


"At this point what else do I have?  I already ended things with my
boyfriend."


"Figured you would.  You're not the type to tolerate cheating."

"You wanted to see how I'd react."

"I'm always keeping tabs on everyone.  I wanted to see if you'd lose
it."

"That's not my style."


"No," she says.  "Your new style is showing off your legs and those
gorgeous nipples."


That comment makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand.  It also makes
my pussy clench.  I look her in the eyes, she's dead serious and she's
peeking down at my nipple that's partly visible in my open top.

Her phone beeps and she checks her text message.  Her fingertips graze
around my thighs and pantyhose.  She tells me to look at the screen and
we're both watching the clip of me masturbating.  Lawson brings her lips
to my ear, I can feel her breathing against my skin.


"We're almost done," she says.  "You're calm under stress.  But I
need to know if you can suck."


My pussy clenches harder and she goes to the door and I feel an instant
wave of self-doubt.  While the door opens -- in what feels like slow
motion -- the image of my boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend) comes to mind and
how my life could have gone differently.  I could have been on a path to
a stable marriage and family.  I think of taking him back and telling
Lawson that I change my mind.


Yet my pussy drips from what's happening.


Two men in suits enter the office space.  I know one of them, Clinesmith,
an older account manager here who has previously tried hitting on me at
different parties.  He's not my type and knows it, now he's getting the
chance of a lifetime, seeing me this way, vulnerable and bound.  His eyes
are taking in the moment, but he's not surprised, he knew I'd be like
this.


He's with another guy, someone much younger, a junior analyst who works
for him.  I don't even know his name but I've seen him eyeing me a few
times in the hallways.


Lawson talks with them about everything except me.  I don't look at
them.  I keep my eyes focused on the different screens, even the explicit
videos of myself, because I'm too humiliated to engage with them.
Keeping my head down or closing my eyes would only make me look weak.
They stand beside me, Clinesmith being assertive with his posture, his
young employee more intimated.  I'm so embarrassed I want to cry.


They talk about the market having a resurgence, at the same time
Clinesmith unzips his pants.  In my peripheral vision, I can see that
he's erect, but I don't look at it directly.  The younger employee
follows the lead and takes his penis out as well -- flaccid because of
his nerves.


When neither of them say anything to me, I realize what my role is to
them, being a corporate plaything.  Someone who can make money grow, who
can deal with demanding clients, someone loyal to the firm, yet willing
to be strapped to a chair while a prominent man like Clinesmith rubs his
penis across my cheek and grazes my lips.  Again my attention stays on
the screens.  The penis is engorged from contact with my skin.  When the
soft head grazes around my mouth, I open, he slips the penis inside and I
start to suck.


He moans a little and they're still talking about whatever bullshit is
happening in the market as if my opinion on anything doesn't matter.
The young man follows the lead, rubbing his penis on the other side of my
face, and this gets him instantly erect.  Inch by inch, the younger man
builds the courage to approach my mouth, even though my mouth is already
full.


I can tell Clinesmith has done this to plenty of women, he's so at ease,
but this younger guy is probably a virgin at office sex,  just like me.
Perhaps it's his training for this level of office politics, just like
what I'm going through, except he's on the dominant side.


The tips of their penises touch in my mouth and it's oddly sexy that
they're comfortable doing that.  Neither wants to wait their turn.
Especially the younger guy who yearns for such an experience his first
time.  It's my first time doing this as well.  I've never been with two
guys before, so having them in my mouth is a jarring experience.  It was
a fantasy, sure, it's common for women to imagine the pleasures of being
serviced by multiple men at once, or to serve them in submission, but I
never thought this would happen to me.


Clinesmith is the first to go deeper.  He inserts his shaft further into
my mouth, showing rank and pushing past the cock of the guy working for
him.  They don't have a problem rubbing against each other.  I respect
that, I actually think it's really hot.  My lips stretch, my heart
pounds.  Breathing is the hardest part.  I do my best to suck while
Clinesmith holds my head still.  Their cocks are different sizes and
their textures are different.  My pussy throbs and my breathing gets
harder.  It's submission at a different level.


They pull at my top, my hard nipples are exposed and I suck both of them
in tandem.  My tongue gives each of them a generous turn. Each swirl
makes them squirm.   Lawson watches this debauchery in the background and
I don't pay any attention to her.  It's one thing being humiliated by
these men because I can always avoid them later, or at least try, but
Lawson holds the key to my future, she's the one who will be assigning
me the big clients.


I can feel them getting closer to the edge as they jerk their hard
shafts.  It's obvious where they want to finish.  I was hoping for my
chest because it's easier to clean, and a lot more dignified, but they
want to debase me by making me swallow.  Clinesmith's grip on my head
tightens, and the young analyst's hips begin to buck erratically. I brace
myself for what's next, knowing this is the final test.


With a deep groan, Clinesmith erupts first, his cum splashing against the
back of my throat. I swallow reflexively, taking every drop he offers.
The young analyst follows a moment later, stroking himself fast, his cum
mixing with Clinesmith's and I do my best to swallow their combined
flavors.


As their ejaculate slides down my throat, Lawson comes over and opens my
top further, keeping my erect nipples on display, and she makes a casual
remark about how her biggest holdings have rebounded a bit, then she
invites them to lunch to discuss the new clients coming on board.  The
men tuck their cocks away, Clinesmith suggesting beef bourguignon down
the street.


The men leave and Lawson unties my wrists.  I stand and close my top to
cover my nipples, it's the least I can do to get my nipples back, and I
can feel the remnants of cum sliding down my chin.  She positions herself
behind me when I stand.  Her hand goes down my pantyhose and she fingers
my wet pussy.  She looks at her fingers to see how wet I am.


"Amazing," she says.  "The future looks bright."


I suppose the wetness of my pussy, more than anything else, was a
deciding factor.  She starts to finger fuck me while standing behind me.
I'm partially bent over the desk, holding myself upright the best I can,
and I let her go deep.  With the state I'm in it doesn't take long for
me to cum.  It's a light trickle that rolls down my legs and pantyhose.


How does my career move forward from this?  As she keeps fingering me, I
accept that I'm her model for pantyhose and stockings.  That I'll fuck
and suck whoever she puts in front of me.  But I won't allow my
reputation at this firm or this business to be ruined.  Only a select few
people can know about this, only certain people can be involved.  I have
to make that clear with Lawson after we clean ourselves.


End


thank you for reading


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