Speaker 1: I worked at the head office of a major accounting firm,
where everything ran on quiet, power locked systems and numbers.
No one outside the building was ever supposed to see,
and I wasn't naive. I knew what they saw when
the guys there looked at me. Red hair, natural, not dyed,
it fell just past my shoulders, thick and impossible to
tame on humid days. Pale skin that flushed easily, Curves
that didn't hide no matter how professional I tried to dress.
I'd learned early on that blouses never quite buttoned the
way they were supposed to, and pencil skirts, well, they
made things worse, not better. By week two I stopped
pretending I didn't notice. By week three, I understood exactly
how much attention I was getting and how useful that
could be. Bruce from Security, always hovering, always watching, Cal
and John from Audit, never far from each other, always
clocking everything. Glenn from Legal, nervous, awkward, trying not to
stare but failing. Every time they all watched me. They
all wanted something, and that made them easy. Three months
was all. It took three months to learn the system,
the access points, the gaps. No one thought anyone would notice.
Three months to get exactly what I came for, and
then I pushed it too far. It happened fast, too fast.
One second I was at my desk, the files open,
the email, ready to send, click send, sending that somewhere Megan.
My stomach dropped. I turned slowly. Bruce stood right behind me.
Cal leaned against the partition, John beside him, Glenn just
behind all four of them. My screen still open, the
sent email still visible, no way to hide it, no
way to undo it. You really thought that was going
to slide, Cal said, John didn't say anything, just watched me.
Bruce reached past me, tapping the keyboard. Something flashed up, logs,
time stamps, proof it was flagged the second you started
going through our records, he said. My mouth went dry.
It's a mistake, I said quickly, you're reading it wrong.
Save it. John cut in. Glenn shifted slightly. It's already
been escalated, of course it had. Bruce stepped back and
gestured toward the corridor. Let's go. The walk through the
office felt different, quieter. People noticed, they always did, but
this time no one looked away. I kept my head forward,
my heart beat loud in my ears. The four of
them stayed close around me, not touching, just there watching.
The elevator ride was silent, heavy. No one spoke, No
one needed to top floor executive level. Bruce led the way.
We stopped outside Malcolm Reeves the bosses office, A knock,
a pause. Come in the office was wide, clean, controlled,
and he was already looking at me, waiting measuring. I
stepped forward, slowly, aware of all four of them behind me.
Malcolm didn't speak straight away. His eyes moved over me,
like he was already deciding something. Then he leaned back
slightly and opened his mouth. Could have had you arrested, Megan.
The words, delivered in a low, steady rumble, seemed to
vibrate through the polished mahogany of the desk. Malcolm Reeves,
senior partner, didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
His icy blue eyes held mine, pinning me to the
plush leather visitor's chair. The files were encrypted. Our it
team flagged the outbound transmission the moment you hit send
a rival firm, Megan, after only three months. He leaned back,
steepling his fingers. His gaze traveled over me, a slow,
deliberate inventory that made the silk of my blouse feel
tissue thin. It lingered on the swell of my breasts,
the curve of my hips in the tight pencil skirt
I'd worn for confidence. He wasn't looking at an employee.
He was looking at a something to fuck I it
was a mistake, I stammered, my face, flaming a misdirected email.
I swear save it. He cut me off with a
flick of his wrist. Corporate espionage, theft of intellectual property.
You are looking at years, megan, not probation, years in
a federal penitentiary. The air left my lungs. The taste
of my morning coffee turned to ash. I saw the cold,
sterile walls, the loss of everything. My vision swam, but
Malcolm continued, the single word, hanging in the heavy silence.
He stood, circling the desk with predatory grace. He stopped
beside me, his hip resting against the polished wood. The
scent of his cologne overwhelmed me. There might have been
an alternative, a private settlement, a way for you to
express your true remorse to the firm. He leaned down,
his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper beside my ear.
The four gentlemen who brought you to me, Bruce from security,
cal and John from audit, Glen from legal, they were
rather upset, personally invested in seeing justice done. My heart
hammered against my ribs. What what did you want? His
smile was a thin, cruel line. I wanted you to
service them. There. Then you're going to get on your
knees and show each of them in a very personal
way how sorry you are. And then you are going
to get them off with your hands and mouth until
they're satisfied. You're going to rim their asses, Megan, eat
them clean, then drain their cocks of every last drop. No,
the word screamed in my head. This wasn't happening. Revulsion,
hot and sour rose in my throat. I opened my
mouth to refuse, or Malcolm said, straightening, Or I pick
up that phone and you explained your misdirected email to
a federal judge. Your choice. The clock on the wall ticked.
Each second was a lifetime a fork in the road
of my entire existence. On one path, disgrace ruin a
cage on this other, unspeakable path. My body trembled. I
looked at the floor, at the pristine carpet, jail, orange jumpsuits,
steel doors slamming. A shudder racked my frame. My voice
was a broken whisper. Okay, louder okay. I gasped, tears
of shame pricking my eyes. Say you want to eat
their asses, Malcolm said, I want to eat their asses,
I huffed. Malcolm's smile widened. He walked to the office
door and opened it. The four men filed in their expressions,
a mix of grim satisfaction and hungry anticipation. Bruce thick
necked and imposing, cow lean and smirking John with his
perpetual scowl, Glenn adjusting his glasses nervously. Without a word,
they formed a line in front of the massive desk,
their backs to me. You know what to do, Malcolm said,
his voice smooth as oil, hands shaking. I pushed myself
out of the chair. The click of my heels on
the floor was deafening. I approached the line. Bruce, first
in line, unbuckled his belt. The others followed. Suit zippers,
hissed pants and boxers slid down to ankles, exposing four pale,
muscular asses to the cool conditioned air of the executive office.
The clock was ticking. Megan Malcolm murmured from his throne
behind the desk, A desperate sob caught in my chest.
Do it, just do it. I dropped to my knees
on the carpet, the rough weave biting through my stockings.
The smell hit me first, a musky, intimate human scent.
I gagged, pressing a hand to my mouth. I had
to eat these fucking things. I stared at the first target,
the tight pucker of Bruce's shithole. Closing my eyes was
a luxury I couldn't afford. I had to see to perform.
I leaned in and ate. My tongue, tentative and dry
at first touched him. The taste was filthy. Bruce grunted,
shifting his weight. The sound perversely pushed on. I opened
my mouth wider, pressing my face into his flesh. My
tongue circled his hole, then probed, pushing in insistently against
his asshole until gave a soft, wet pop. As I
tongued inside. Sloppy. The boss wanted sloppy. I let saliva
drip from my lips, coating him, making obscene, slick sounds.
I ate his ass with a frantic, degrading fervor, one
hand reaching around to find his cock. It was already hard, thick,
and heavy in my palm. I jerked him in time
with the thrusts of my tongue, my other hand gripping
his hip for balance. Bruce's groans grew louder. Yeah, that's it,
you redheaded bitch. Eat it. The insults lit a fuse
somewhere dark and hidden inside me, a spark of angry,
debased heat. I serviced him with more vigor, my jaw aching,
my tongue, working relentlessly licking out his shitter. His hips
began to piston back against my face. The rhythm of
my hand on his cock sped up, my thumbs, swiping
over the leaking tip with a choked roar. Bruce came hot,
jets spurted over my fingers, splashing onto the carpet. The
scent of his release mixed with the base smell of
his ass. He shoved my face away with a rough
hand on the back of my head, stepping aside with
a satisfied grunt. I didn't pause. I crawled on my
knees to cow. My breath already ragged, My lips wet
and stinking cow was cleaner. My mouth found its mark.
This time. My movements were less tentative, more practiced in
their depravity. I rimmed him deeply, my nose buried in
his cleft while my hand worked his length. He was quieter,
his pleasure expressed in sharp intakes of breath and the
tensin of his thighs. He came quickly, silently, his come
adding to the mess on my hand and carpet. John
was next. He was rougher, hairer. The taste was stronger,
more bitter. I gagged again, but forced myself deeper, tonguing
him hard. I sucked his balls while my fingers worked
his ass, then took his cock into my mouth. Without
being asked. I bobbed my head, hollowing my cheeks, using
every trick I'd ever known or guessed at. He fucked
my mouth with short, brutal strokes, cursing, before spilling down
my throat. I swallowed convulsively, the salty, bitter tang coating
my tongue. By the time I reached Glenn, I was
a wreck. Mascara streaked my cheeks, my red hair was
a disheveled mess. My lips were swollen, my chin slick
with spit and pre comb and sweat. I was foul.
I was a slut, and a terrifying electric current was
humming through my veins. Glen was trembling, overwhelmed. I was
almost gentle with him, my rimming slower, my hand job coaxing.
When he came with a whimpering sigh. It was a soft,
warm trickle over my knuckles. Silence save for the heavy
breathing of five men and my own ragged panting. I
stayed on my knees, head bowed, staring at the stained
carpet between my legs. The stench of sex and sweat
and ass filled the room, clinging to me. Then polished
shoes entered my field of vision. Malcolm crouched in front
of me. He didn't flinch from the smell. He hooked
a finger under my chin and forced my head up.
My eyes wide and shell shocked met his remarkable He murmured,
his voice, thick with an appreciation that had nothing to
do with spreadsheets. Truly impressive initiative. He leaned in and
kissed me. It was not a gentle kiss. It was possessive, demanding, acclaiming,
his tongue invaded my mouth, tasting the remnants of the
men I just serviced. I moaned into it, a sound
of pure, confused submission. The last of my resistance crumbled,
melted by the sheer shocking authority of the act. When
he pulled back, his own lips were glistening effective Immediately,
he said, his thumb stroking my dirty cheek. Your salary
was increased by twenty thousand. I think you found your
true calling within the firm, Megan, Now, why don't you
start by cleaning me up? I grinned. Who knew tossing
salad would be so profitable? I hoped you enjoyed today's
sexy story. If you love this podcast, leave an Apple review.
Share what sexy fantasies you want to hear. Maybe we
can make your dirty dreams come true. See you soon,