She muttered to herself as she shuffle papers. Didn’t matter that everyone else was gone for the night, home to family, out with friends. Some to watch the World Series on tv, some off to a run.
Maybe some were having sex.
She wished she was having sex. With some hot stud. Maybe Michael from bookkeeping. He was a sexy guy, tall, built, and what hinted at an impressive package under his khakis. She sighed, reached for her antacid pills, banged her phone with her elbow, and in catching it, managed to drop almost half her papers to the floor.
She swiveled back in her chair, surveying the damage. Squatting on the floor trying to find the order of the fucking things, she let out an impatient sigh when the lights went out.
“NOT FUNNY! I’m here! TURN THEM ON!”
She squatted, waiting.
Was that a footstep? Isn’t this the scene where the girl gets offed, in a horror flick, because she doesn’t beat feet and get out of there in a hurry?
There was a noise behind her. Before she could move, something came over her head. In seconds, she was tugged up to her feet, shoved into a chair. Her chair, from the lingering warmth under her butt. Struggling, flailing out with her hands, trying to get the thing off her head, she felt the cuff slap on her left wrist, her wrist tugged behind her back, behind the support of the chair. It only took a moment for her right wrist to be cuffed too. She yelled. Tried shaking her head to loosen her blindfold, nothing.
To her distress, she heard the unmistakable sound of duct tape being ripped.
“What are you doing? Stop! Let me go. NOW!”
The steady peel and rip of duct tape was the only sound.
No one came.
No one was there, in the building.
She trembled. A few minutes ago she’d been dreaming of having sex with some one. And now she was being — well, she didn’t know what was happening. She hated the fearful tone in her voice as she pleaded with him to let her go.
Her ankle was caught, her leg hooked up and over the chair arm and wrapped with tape. Kicking out with her free foot, that too was caught. He held it under his arm as she struggled and whimpered and screamed. Her foot was freed.
He pulled off her shoe, and rubbed the sole of her foot over his pants. She felt the thick bulge pressing against her foot. Obviously her struggles were turning him on.
“You sick bastard.”
He laughed then, the first sound he’d made, as he secured her ankle over the opposite chair arm. She was open, vulnerable.
Her cunt lurched as his palm cupped her through her panty hose. His thumbnail rasped against the fabric, making a pleasant little hmmm against her sensitive flesh.
There was a metallic click, then the cool rush of air on her pussy.
Though she twisted and writhed, in moments, her shirt had also been cut apart. His hands on her tits were rough, pinching and pulling on her soft skin. Grasping her nipples, she was tugged forward.
The tug on her nipples was almost too much to bear. She cried out, begging for him to stop.
His thumb slid into her slick cunt.
“Hurts? Very wet.”
She tried to place the voice, but the thumb in her pussy was distracting her. She didn’t want this. She…
More fingers inside her, wiggling insidiously, rubbing her sensitive folds, making her belly quiver. She would not cum. She would not cum. She would not…
The hum of a motor startled her, even more so when something pushed hard against her pussy.
Her head fell back, helpless at the assault on her senses. Too much, too good, too terrible. Whimpers and moans came faster, as her cunt clenched on the probing fingers, as the buzzing vibe did it’s best to coax a reaction from her.
She was going to cum. She was so close. So close.
Yet, abruptly, the vibe was pulled away, the fingers left her pussy.
“oh, nooooo…” she moaned.
His cock filled her. Hard, thick, deep up into her belly, he drove hard enough to push her chair back. And back again. Until it fetched up against some immovable object.
“Going to fill you…”
“With my baby-makers…”
“Fill you with those swimmers…”
Oh god she didn’t want..she shuddered…
“Fill your belly with my baby…”
She came, hard, as his cock parried her every contraction, stabbing into her with rapier skill. Over and again he sheathed into her hot slickness, banging hard on the entrance to her innermost secret place.
“Going to push my seeds right up to your front door….
Her head rolled from side to side, her hands, still behind her, clenched into fists as the pleasure rolled through her. Fuck, fuck, fuck, her mind screamed, though what came from her mouth was more “ughn, ungh, ungh…”.
She swore she could feel the pulsing jettison of his semen into her body. His head leaned against hers as he shimmied his hips driving deeper into her, as if he could shoot his load straight through her.
How many times her body convulsed around him, she had no idea. She must have fainted.
She woke, forehead on her desk.
Blinking, yawning, she wondered why she was sleeping at work. Her papers…yet, looking around she saw them all neatly stacked on her desk. Her pussy throbbed, and she remembered, with a sudden rush, her dream. Her hand went to her blouse, but all her buttons were buttoned. In her dream “he” had cut them off, she recalled. Geezus. It was time to call it a night. The clock on her phone said “2:01 a.m.” No wonder she’d fallen asleep!
She rose, then, and took a wobbly step. One shoe was off. Must’ve come off in my sleep, she mused, bending over to retrieve it from under her desk.
She felt the breeze on her pussy as she bent, and froze. Her hand reached up under her skirt. There was a large hole in her pantyhose. Maybe it had been there all day? The crotch of her panties were soaked.
“Fucking wet dream,” she muttered, but her heart raced. Quickly she gathered up her belongings and almost ran outside to her car. Fumbling with the keys, she threw her purse on the passenger seat, and slid into the driver’s side. Moving to adjust the rear view, her hand touched the roll of silver duct tape hanging there.