Chapter 4

User 4109.Male. 46.

One of the wonders of a director's international business meetings with their colleagues in the US, is late nights. Sometimes I need a little extra to keep me ‘entertained'.

‘Entertained' for me normally constitutes dirty women working magic on my cock, while I try to keep my professional composure. What a battle.

I have an important online meeting coming up, which only heightens the thrill of having a whore under the desk, trying to tempt me while I'm talking budgets with the global team.

There are plenty of risks involved with this kind of activity.

One is being discovered, after which it would be likely security staff would escort you from the premises. Office workers may well be passing the internal windows and catch sight of the scene unfolding.

Of course, there is always a risk that my load will blow as I'm presenting my conclusions on next year's budget, and my colleagues might get to see what a sex hungry cunt I am, with a bitch under my desk, sucking my balls dry.

For this proposal, you will be a slutty intern with ideas above her station, taking advantage of my meeting to sneak into my office without my approval. You will be a cheap temptress, crawling across the floor to position yourself between my legs and free my cock like it's a fucking prize.

You'll be playing with yourself, whimpering just below microphone levels. Oh, how dare you. You'll be a sopping wet mess, who gets slammed in punishment once the meeting is over. You'll get more than you bargained for, and I'll have the power to make sure you keep your silence over it.

I'm going to gag you with your slutty used panties.

That's correct. I'm going to stuff your dirty, wet panties into your mouth once I've wiped you dry with them. I'll gag you with filthy lace to muffle your moans as I fuck your dirty siren cunt, and claim your ass like I own it.

Then, if you're a good intern, I'll grace you with the load you've been craving. I'll fuck your mouth with your gag still in place and shoot my cum all over your pretty girl face.

Things to note.

Dress for the part, please. You'll need to be a successful enough looking member of staff to make it up to the directors' floor. Eyeliner a must, since I love gothic women. White lacy panties, please. They are my favourites. Wear them as long as possible beforehand. The filthier, the better. Expect to choke on your dirty gag while I'm fucking your face with it.

Remember, this will be roleplay. You will be a slutty intern with ideas above her station, seducing the Senior Finance Director during one of his most important calls.

Dirty bitch.

Duration – 3 hours.

Proposal price – ￡5000

My choiceof attire today wasn't just to impress Kingsgate. I knew full well what the gig tonight would be before I scheduled in my viewings. I love to be resourceful. I've let my bun loose, but I still look like I'm out to address an executive committee.

I must be living up to User 4109's instructions to look the part in Canary Wharf, because nobody here gives me a second glance as I clutch my paperwork and hurry along with my handbag. My tenancy paperwork feels like a trophy against my chest. Another double purpose bonus.

I click arrived on the app when I reach the entrance to SQW Banking Corporation.

I anticipate more of a delay, given my client will already be engaged in his yearly budget meeting, but the instructions ping right through.

You are Holly Jones. I've cleared your ‘intern pass' with reception. Elevator to floor 12. My office is the last on the right. Mr Gregory. Enter without knocking. Crawl across the floor like a slut.

I get tingles just from reading his words. I must have read through his proposal fifty times, his tone so commanding. I'm more than excited as I step inside, still on a high from Belgravia. My confidence is through the roof after landing my apartment, and what better way to celebrate than a ton of extra cash in the bank and a shit hot proposal to attend to.

My pussy is desperate for it. I loved being an innocent sleeping beauty last night, but tonight I want to be a filthy bitch, and get punished for it.

I want him to look me in the face like I'm a filthy siren and gag me with my dirty panties as punishment.

"Holly Jones," I say to the woman on the front desk, conscious of the security guy standing to her side. Despite the fact it's almost 8 p.m., the place is still humming with the work vibe. The wonders of worldwide business, though. There must be people working shifts over every time zone.

The receptionist hands over an intern pass.

"Annual budget meeting, floor twelve." She points to the elevators.

"Thank you."

I step inside the elevator doors to join a few men in suits, staring at the documents in their hands before they catch sight of the gothy intern standing next to them. I get smiles, and I smile back like a cheeky vixen, making sure my eyes linger on every one of them. I'm learning to be quite a player.

One of them gets out at floor three. Another at floor four. The last one remains with me until floor seven, where he makes a grab at conversation.

"Haven't seen you around here before."

"No, I'm a new intern. Lucky enough to get to check out the budget meeting."

He raises his eyebrows. "You're going to the directors' floor?"

I grin with pride, it's obviously an accolade he thinks I've earned.

"Sure am."

I give him a wave goodbye when he reaches his floor, grinning at the knowledge I'm going right for the top. Then I shuffle on my court heels, preparing myself for the perilous journey ahead. I need to sneak into Mr Gregory's office without being seen. It feels like I'm in some kind of spy movie, not enacting a client proposal.

The foyer of floor twelve is bustling when I step out of the elevator, but everyone seems too preoccupied to notice me. The tension in the air is palpable, and it adds to the thrill. Whatever budget meeting is going down tonight is a major one. It makes it easy to walk on by like I was born to be here.

The corridor grows quieter the further I walk. I hold my tenancy paperwork to me like a shield, tipping my head at anyone passing. And then I see it. The door to Mr Gregory's office is right in front of me, with his name and title etched in gold on the glass.

Internal windows the proposal said. Quite an understatement. The whole fucking wall is made of glass. Mr Gregory's desk is angled to give some coverage, but crawling over and hiding underneath is going to be riskier than Die Hard.

I see him through the glass, and he's definitely worth taking a chance for. He has the kind of salt and pepper hair I love, with a clipped grey beard. He's clearly athletic under his suit, and his confidence is strong enough to make my cheeks warm. He looks formidable. I wouldn't want to cross him in a work capacity in a million years.

He wasn't lying when he said there were risks involved. He wants the thrill of a slut whore crawling over to his desk, which is hot as fuck, and if I manage it, great stuff. If I fail, I'll be escorted from the premises by security with my arm locked behind my back – a filthy, slutty criminal, playing games I shouldn't be.

I'm coming to love being a naughty girl.

I glance around me, scanning my tenancy paperwork intently until the coast is clear. The other offices are glass fronted too, but the figures sitting at their desks are masked by huge PC screens. Mr Gregory isn't a total hedonist. He knows this feat must be possible.

I wait until the final woman in the corridor closes the door behind her and then I make a dash for it. I pull my client's door open, dump my tenancy paperwork and handbag on a cabinet to the left, and the door clicks shut as I drop to my knees – crawling on a mission to make it to his desk as he watches me. Damn, my heart is thumping like crazy. I try to keep my eyes on him and focused on the task at hand, hoping my stockings aren't snagging on the carpet. Mr Gregory doesn't smile, just glares as I approach, and it hits me again just how strong roleplay can be.

In User 4109's world, I'm a slutty bitch out to snare him during one of his most important work presentations, and in my world, I'm becoming what he wants. A whore of an intern at SQW, desperate for a taste of Mr Gregory.

My crawl across the carpet feels like it lasts an age. I'm panting when I make it to the desk and throw myself into the gap between the mahogany pedestals. It's a desk worthy of his status, so I've got plenty of room to manoeuvre, but first of all I pull my knees to my chest and catch my breath.

Bruce Willis has nothing on me. I didn't need a ventilation shaft to get to Mr Gregory's shaft. I did it on my knees with my butt on show.

I allow myself a few moments to soak in the sound of Mr Gregory's voice. There are barely more than a few acknowledgements from him. Mainly it's a host of voices on his call, talking about financial stats. Still, I get the tone. His voice is deep and authoritative. I imagine it could be thunderous if he was on the attack. I hope I get a taste of it.

But right now, there is only one thing I want a taste of.

I'm so slow as I edge towards him, back on my knees. I'm gentle as I sweep my hands up his thighs. That isn't Mr Gregory's style though, seemingly. He's giving an appraisal of some budget summary or other when he unbuckles his belt and tugs down his zip to free his cock for me. It's a good size. Really good. A tower of a dick with the veins already showing proud. He's probably been palming himself for ages.

I hold back a squeal as his hand darts and he fishes around under the desk for me. His fingers soon find my hair and he grips it tight and wrenches me closer, angling his cock straight for my mouth.

He's done this before. That much is obvious when he uses my mouth as a fuck toy, yanking me back and forth on his dick without even breaking a sweat. He jams into my throat, and I take it, my eyes watering as I struggle to stay quiet. Any loud gurgles could sound out loud on his microphone.

It's a relief when he lets go of my hair and leaves me to my own devices. I suck in some long, deep breaths to calm myself, before I present my slutty self with a new attitude.

User 4109 may have done this before, but not with me – whorish Holly, climbing the ranks.

I put my hands on his knees and push back slowly, grateful his chair is on wheels. He shoots me a glare, but I mouth a please, imploringly. Please, Sir. He clears his throat as he registers Sir. I can tell he likes that.

"How about you, Nelson?" a voice sounds out from the screen, and Mr Gregory shifts, turning his attention away from me. "Do you agree with Theresa's plan for platform enhancement?"

"No," Mr Gregory says, as though he's been concentrating intently and not throat fucking a slut under his desk. "I think the maintenance figures are severely underplayed. We'll go over budget by at least twenty percent if we go down that route."

Fuck budgets. I grip his shaft, and run my tongue up the length of him, staring up at the director, despite the fact he's debating with a colleague onscreen. I know he can feel my gaze. Feel my adoration. I worship his cock like it's sacred, savouring every taste. I let out tiny whimpers, and slip a hand between my legs. I'm already soaking wet in my dirty lacy panties – all because of him.

The roleplay takes over me. My horny soul springs to the fore.

I love being Mr Gregory's slutty intern. I love peppering his balls with kisses, daring to suck them until he swats me away and angles his cock back towards my mouth. I hope he's going to grab hold of my hair again, but his dialogue is too intense for that now. He's fully engaged in debating, and I use the opportunity to milk it – literally. I create an irresistible rhythm, and grin around his dick as it pays its reward. His voice stammers for a moment before he clears his throat, and his hips start rocking involuntarily in his seat. The wheels twist back and forth a little as he uses the leverage.

I get myself ready for the gift of his spurts in my mouth – my fingers speeding up on my clit through my panties – but he reaches under the desk and grabs my hair again. Not to fuck me harder, but to halt me in my tracks. He holds me away from his cock, continuing his onscreen conversation, and I get a churn in my stomach – feeling the pain of a loved-up intern being shunted away like she's worth nothing.

In his world I am.

In his fantasy, I'm a slut desperate to serve at any cost, and nothing more.

He's calmed down by the time he lets go of my hair, back to flatline. His dick is still hard, but he's not on the edge, so I build up again right from the start. Flicks of my tongue along his shaft. Wide eyes when I gaze up at him. He angles his cock, offering it deeper, and I accept it with a moan, sucking it back up like a needy whore and giving him my throat.

Mr Gregory is a god of a director to Holly Jones. She's risked her fledgling professional reputation by crawling across his office floor just to worship his cock.

We dance the same dance as he continues his meeting. So many boring budget figures up for discussion. I work my clit and suck his cock, building enough of a rhythm that he grabs my hair and shoves me away from him three times over. He keeps up his engagement onscreen, but I catch him out, looking down at me time after time. I think he must be addicted to my silent mouthing of please.

We're on round four when I get more frantic with my clit, my tension building up as much as Mr Gregory's. Fuck it, I can't take any more. I hold my breath as I come, ears ringing, but he must feel me shudder. I have my mouth open, eyes dazed in climax when he next stares down at me.

And that's when he loses his flow in the meeting.

"Nelson?" someone asks. "What does your outline say?"

But he doesn't respond.

"Nelson?" the voice asks again, and he shakes himself, tearing his eyes away from me.

"Sorry, what?"

"What does your outline say? About Berlin's tech budget for next quarter."

He clears his throat. "Eleven percent up from last year. They have another app in progress."

His eyes are back on mine as the conversation moves on, and I smile like a cunning bitch before gobbling his cock into my mouth. He looks like he wants to tear my pussy to pieces when the meeting is done.

I hope he does.

I make sure I moan when I sense the online chitchat is drawing to a close. I hear the word summary and ramp up the stakes, letting my lips pop and my throat quack as I take his cock. He gives his acknowledgements to the points onscreen, but his hips start rocking again. In earnest. This time I've got him.

I'm going to make him blow so fucking hard. His balls are baking hot, swollen pink, and those veins are fucking straining. I'm going to get one hell of a splattering when he shoots. What an achievement.

But yet again, he surprises me.

He gives a grunt of a goodbye to the camera the very second the meeting is wrapping up, and shoves his chair away from the desk, glowering at me like I'm a cheap slutty bitch, there without his approval.

"Have you any idea how many times you nearly trashed my fucking performance?" he asks, and I love the malicious edge to his tone.

He wanted the siren, I'll give him the siren. I nod, proudly, keeping my eyes nice and wide.

"Yes. I felt it. You were going to come in my mouth, weren't you?"

"Only because you're too much of a slut to leave me alone."

"You're too irresistible to keep my slutty mouth away from, Sir. I've been planning this for weeks."

"Right on the fucking budget period?"

"Yes, Sir, right on the budget period. How else was I going to sneak in here and get a chance at you?" I reach out and squeeze his shaft again. "So, will you let me finish the job, please? I've been so hungry for it."

"You came under my fucking desk, didn't you? I heard it."

"I couldn't stay quiet. I was too horny. Sorry, Sir."

His eyes are dark. His brows are dark. The salt and pepper of his beard suits his sullen character just right.

"Any of the management board could have heard you."

"I'm sorry," I say again, but give his shaft another squeeze. "Can I make it up to you? The meeting is done now, isn't it? You can come in my mouth without anyone hearing."

He scoffs at me. "You honestly think I'm going to reward you with a mouthful of cum at the click of your fingers, after that slutty bullshit you just put me through?"

He looks around – I guess to scope the surroundings out – then shunts his chair out further and gets to his feet.

"Come," he says. "Get the fuck up here."

His hand lands back in my hair, and he's not gentle as he drags me out of my hideout. He slams me onto my back on the top of his huge stately desk, and his paperwork goes flying in all directions. His mouse tumbles off onto the floor, but he doesn't even look at it, just hitches and spreads my legs. He grinds my slick panties with his fingers, cursing me for being such a filthy bitch.

"How long have you been wearing these?" he asks. "Look at the fucking state of them."

"Since yesterday, Sir. I've been thinking about you. I hoped you'd like it. I hoped you'd be able to smell me when I was playing with myself. I thought it would turn you on."

"Tempt me out of my fucking mind more like it, calculating bitch." He keeps grinding his fingers against the filthy lace, and my tender clit pulses fresh. I squirm as he touches me. "Unbutton that fucking blouse," he tells me. "Show me those huge tits of yours."

I do as I'm told, my tits ripe and nipples hard as I unveil a white lacy bra that matches my dirty panties. He leans in, yanks the cups of my bra down and spits on my tits. I'm a good girl, smiling as I rub the wetness over my nipples.

"I like that, Mr Gregory."

"You'd like anything I did to you, you filthy slut."

He tugs my panties higher, so the lace becomes a rope between my pussy lips.

"Such a sweet pink butterfly between the legs of such a whore. What a fucking travesty," he says, then splays me. He tugs the lace, so it grates tight, his eyes focused between my legs as the fabric works its magic on my clit.

"Please, yes, like that," I say, and raise my arms above my head to grip at the edge of his desk, my nipples standing proud.

"Filthy panties on a filthy girl," he sneers and drops his face to my crotch, lapping at me. I do feel like a filthy bitch as he pulls the lace away far enough to examine the dirty crotch. I know there must be stains on there. I know the scent must be ripe.

He breathes it in, and the pressure of his nose against my pussy is from Heaven above. He laps and sucks and takes advantage of my wet panties as I squirm. My body is on autopilot, writhing to his rhythm. It would be so easy to reach down and hold his head to me, bucking against his face as I came. But I wouldn't do that to Mr Gregory. I daren't. He's the one in control here.

I let out a few moans, unable to resist the temptation.

"Shut up," he says, and resumes squirming his tongue against my clit through the filthy lace.

"I can't." I let out another moan, gripping the desk tighter.

He pulls his face away and glares up at me. His lips are puffy from where he's been grinding against sopping lace. "Shut the fuck up, or I'm going to have to make you."

I look down at him. "I can't. You're going to make me come, and I'm going to squeal the place down."

"There are still people on this fucking floor, you dirty bitch. You want the whole fucking office to know you've crawled in here on a quest for cock?"

I tip my head back, as though I'm resigned to it.

"I can't shut up, Mr Gregory. I won't be able to stay quiet."

"Yeah? Really?" He gets to his feet. "We'll see about that."

My panties catch on my heels as he wrenches them down my legs. He curses like I'm the one at fault, so rough it hurts as he wipes my sopping pussy with the scrunched-up ball of dirty lace. His stare cuts through me as he holds the filthy white panties up.

"Good job there are more than one use for these," he says, and presses himself on top of me. "Open your fucking mouth. You were happy enough to open it earlier, so show me how deep your slutty throat goes."

I open wide, groaning and coughing as he stuffs the whole pair of panties in. He makes sure he jabs deep with his fingers, making me retch as they scrape the back of my throat. I'm ready to close my mouth and accept the gag, but he keeps his fingers in place.

"Keep your mouth open."

He hooks his fingers in my cheeks, pulling them open so he can spit into my panty filled mouth. Then he digs the whole filthy mess around like it's a slutty punishment.

"Now, shut the fuck up," he says, and I nod, happily gagged by filth. I tip my head up and savour the taste, spreading my thighs as he slaps his cock against my slit. "Let's see how tight your cunt is."

I don't have time to brace myself. He slams inside me in one, pinning me to the desk with vicious strength as he thrusts his cock in to the balls. Fuck, how my pussy sings.

I raise my legs and wrap them around his waist, urging him on – faster, deeper, MORE. But I don't make a sound apart from a muffled moan, making the most of the gag he's given me. I know I'm dribbling and drooling around it as my mouth waters. He laps the stream up with his tongue.

He shows no concern for hitting the right spot inside my pussy. He's all out for himself.

"Cheap bitch," he says, driving harder with his face in mine. "You were a na?ve little cow to think you could play me. It's me who has the power to make you come, not the other way around."

Oh, another challenge. I clench my pussy with everything I've got, and he grits his teeth. I could milk him dry in seconds. I've already been building him up for a fucking age.

"Stop that," he barks, but I moan like I can't help myself, gripping his dick in a vice, clench after clench. "I said stop that," he grunts, but I shake my head.

"I can't," I attempt to say through the muffled gag.

"Fine, then take what you're fucking given."

The switch to my ass is easy. He only has to shunt my legs a little bit higher and aim his cock head at my puckered target. I groan into the filthy lace as he plunges his way inside. Jesus Christ, it hurts, but I need an ass fucking. I'm bucking up at him like a cheap bitch as he works his cock all the way in. Fuck lube, I don't need it. My pussy has given him enough.

I suck on the lace as he takes my ass, but we're both lost when it comes to the silence rule. I'm dribbling and spluttering, and there's the unmistakable slap of flesh against flesh at high impact.

"I'm not going to come in your fucking ass," he hisses. "I'm going to come in your whore mouth, let's make your cheeks bulge with those panties in them."

He pulls his cock out of my ass so roughly that I clench my legs and scrabble instinctively, on the verge of spitting the panties out when he appears on the other side of the desk and takes my face in his hands.

"Don't even think about it," he says, and leans over me, his dirty cock raging hard. Oh God. He really is going to fuck my dirty panties into my throat with his filthy dick. This high-powered director is going to fuck his slutty intern's dirty panties into her throat with a cock that's just fucked her asshole.

Jesus fucking Christ!

But hell, fucking yes.

My hand slips down between my legs, working at my screaming clit, and I tip my head back, my mouth open as wide as I can get it. This is what true sluts are made of.

His dirty, swollen cock uses my dirty filled mouth, bulging out my cheeks as I smile up at him. I slurp and suck, bucking under my own finger play as he spit, spit, spits over my face. It spurs me on. I want it all.

"You're going to get me in so much shit if anyone sees this," he grunts, and wrenches me towards him so my head is hanging over the back of his desk. My hair swishes as he jabs his whole fucking cock in my throat, the panty gag practically suffocating me, jammed so far back.

I feel captured by it, struggling to breathe as my drool spurts free. He thrusts, out of control, and I may be struggling and squirming, but I don't fight him. I don't want to.

That's when I get the strangest sensation, my fingers still working my clit.

I want his hands around my throat, squeezing tight.

I want the headiness of fighting for breath for real as I come for him.

I try to cry out, encouraging him. He slams harder, and I keep going, wanting to make a noise.

"Shut up!" he snaps.

Make me. That's what I want to say.

And he delivers. He jabs his cock right to the back of my throat, so I'm choked up by lace and his thick fucking dick, and his hands takes my throat, squeezing just enough to reinforce his power.

Then he stays there.

Pinning me, choking me, controlling me until I begin to thrash, but even through the gag and the pressure and the wave of panic, I'm smiling.

Holy fuck, I like this.

I'm almost disappointed when he releases his hold and pulls his cock out far enough that I can take a breath, coughing around the sodden lace.

"More please, Sir," I manage to splutter, and he gives me another round of throat slammers, but no more choking. Just him, taking his pleasure as he uses me.

When he's on the edge of the explosion he pulls his cock free and holds it high above my face. I adore looking up at his shaft as he's about to spurt. I spit the panties far enough out that they drape across my cheek, a sopping wreck of lace. They must be so fucking filthy.

I come in sync with him, my clit sparking and pussy pulsing as he works his dick in his hand. He sprays his load in drips at first, splatting over my cheeks as well as my open mouth. Then come the jets. Lovely long spurts that cover my face in streams.

The gag doesn't stop me moaning as I come. I'm like a fish on a hook, still clad in my posh office outfit, with my blouse unbuttoned and my tits covered in spit. Hardly a professional businesswoman. But that only makes it more exciting.

He tugs the panties totally free as I gulp in air. I shuffle back so my head is flat against his desk again, and then, finally, grouchy Mr Gregory meets my smile with one of his own. Game done and dusted.

"I thought I was going to choke you unconscious for a minute back there."

I laugh. "So did I."

"Sorry about that, got a little carried away."

"No need to be sorry, I enjoyed it."

He laughs back. "Death by panty fucking at SQW."

I shrug. "I'm sure there are worse ways to go."

He helps me up, and the room swirls for a few seconds while I reorientate. I sit on the edge of his desk and button my blouse back up, my face still covered in drool and cum. He holds up my used lace panties.

"May I keep these?"

I smirk. "Sure."

"Thank you."

I watch as he opens a desk drawer low down on the right, and observe that it's already rammed full of used panties. I was right. He's done this before. Plenty of times.

It feels almost sad to see my panty gag disappear amongst the masses.

He shoves his cock back in his suit trousers and straightens his tie.

"How did your meeting go?" I ask, and he smirks.

"Not as well as usual. You nearly had me."

"Nearly. Hmm. I'll try harder next time, hey?" I give him a cheeky wink. "If there is a next time."

He takes my hand to ease me off his desk, since I've been rammed pretty hard.

"There will be a next time," he says. "Don't worry about that, Holly Jones. Your name is on the system now. You'll have clearance to floor twelve whenever I call on it."

I hope it'll be soon.

He offers me a handkerchief to wipe my face clean, putting it in the drawer along with the panties once I hand it back.

"Do I look like I've been crying for ten hours straight?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

"No. Just a bit red in the face. Your eyeliner held up surprisingly well."

"I use waterproof."

"Maybe don't next time. I'd love to see the wreckage."

"I'll be sure to bring a pack of face wipes with me."

It feels strange saying goodbye. Half business colleague in a posh office, half a stranger who stuffed my panties in my mouth and throat fucked me during a meeting.

"See you again." That's all I can say.

"Yes, see you again, Holly. Safe journey home."

If only he knew where my home was. And if only he knew what tomorrow night's proposal involved…

It wouldn't be such a passing comment if he did.