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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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Samantha was worried that she'd be wobbly in those new heels when she slid them on her feet that morning. As she tightened the straps around her ankles, she wondered if she should have gone with the more sensible flats that she normally wore for work. But she was feeling a little more dangerous today. Besides, she was damn proud of these new heels. They were Jimmy Choo heels, after all. The new collection, in fact.
Samantha had confidence in her appearance; years of running had rewarded her with a toned and sculpted body, and these new heels had really sealed the deal. Glancing down at her new prized possessions, she was pleased that it perfectly complimented her gray short sleeve dress.
After a short Uber ride downtown, she reached the entrance of the building and steadied herself, taking a deep breath as she walked in. She loved the sound her heels made as they clicked along the tile floor, announcing her arrival. To Samantha, it was the sound of power.
***
At first, she scoffed at the idea of ever stepping foot in Satisfaction. Now, it seemed mildly amusing.
She still couldn't get over the fact that Doug had sent her for this story. But Samantha had learned long ago that it was no use trying to argue with her Managing Editor. So here she was, stuck with reporting a story on a highly exclusive sex club which had recently opened downtown. It was "a surefire way to garner more readers," according to Doug.
In the end, work was work, and this was a legitimate news story.
And now, after nearly two weeks of intense research and a brief phone conversation with Caleb, the club's operations manager, Samantha was ready for her first visit to the newly opened branch of Satisfaction. She had familiarized herself with this franchise, mostly from her connections in America's financial world, about how this place makes fantasies come true.
Unlike most sex clubs in murky areas, Satisfaction was located on the top floor of a commercial building, the first of its kind. It was meant to be a place where financial big shots, men and women alike, could take time from their busy days to "relieve stress," as discreetly advertised.
It was 10 am on a Monday when Samantha made her first trip there. Typically, for these types of personal on-the-record interviews, she'd wear something casual like skinny jeans and a button-up shirt. Stylish, yet professional.
She hoped the height of her heels and the length of her skirt wouldn't diminish her status in the eyes of the people she'd be meeting. Her legs were stellar and she also secretly hoped that they'd garner some attention from people with high taste. It always give her a little thrill, though she'd never admit that.
She made her way up to the top floor, expecting a dimly lit, seedy lobby with overweight greasy men.
Instead, she was astonished to see an upscale lobby with a professional ambiance, with sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. Since it was morning, there was even a table in the waiting room with an array of breakfast pastries, coffee, and freshly squeezed fruit juice for the guests.
Samantha was greeted by an ordinary receptionist whose hair was in a librarian's bun. She was escorted down the hall by a staff member in a suit - they all wore suits - and hoping to see something salacious, she couldn't help but peek into each room. But much to her secret disappointment, there was nothing going on this early in the day.
She soon found herself in the main office, sitting across a large, mahogany desk from the branch manager and co-owner of Satisfaction. Caleb appeared to be a few years older than she was and everything about him was groomed and polished. Even the pens on his desk were lined up perfectly.
Samantha placed her phone on his desk, glad that he had agreed to let her record their interview. The conversation was cordial at first. Nothing out of the ordinary. When she had him laughing at her jokes and leaning back in his chair, relaxed, Samantha knew it was time to work. His guard was down and it was her chance to finally sink her teeth into the story. Journalism, after all, was about exposing the truth.
"So, what does it feel like running the most controversial sex club in the city?" she asked with an almost disarming manner, batting her eyelashes in the process.
Caleb played along. "Controversial? Why? Because of our location, or the clients we cater to?"
"Both. It's a gutsy move to locate a sex club in the financial district, marketing to men with a lot of money."
"Are you implying we don't cater to women?" he smiled with a questioning eyebrow raised.
Samantha fired back with a smile of her own. "Are you denying that the vast majority of your clients are men?"
"Not at all. It's true; the majority of our clients are men."
"Doesn't that bother you at all?" she asked in earnest. "In the age and cultural climate of the #MeToo movement, don't you find it a bit tacky to run a business where powerful men use women as their playthings? Just a few months ago, there was a massive march on the street right around where this building is located, with tens of thousands of women showing their support for one another."
Despite her slightly hostile interview approach, Samantha was no prude. In fact, she had done a few stories in the last few years about sexual liberation and equality. Her issue, as she was sure Caleb had realized, was with the potential power imbalance a place like this could have.
He remained firm. "Are you honestly asking me that? That seems like a bit of a low blow, don't you think?"
"Speaking of blows, this club has rooms specifically for oral sex, with some being traditional 'gloryholes' so men can have quick relief during their coffee breaks from the office. And as I recall, there are rooms for spankings, group activities and so forth."
"May I respond to that?" he asked curiously.
"Please do."
Caleb measured his words. "I'd be happy to go on the record and state that men and women are 100% equal here. We firmly believe that a woman's pleasure is just as valuable as a man's, regardless of money or stature."
"Is that so?"
"You don't believe me?"
"I only believe what I see," Samantha stated. "And from what I've read, women here are nothing more than holes for men to stick their penises inside."
"Well, that's the problem. You haven't actually seen anything. We've only been in my office so far."
"I think you may be a little over confident." She paused. Was she pushing him too far? Was this strategy working?
He checked the time. "It's a quarter past 10. By this hour, we should have clients down the hall. As you must know, the markets have been a roller coaster lately and there's a lot of stress to release."
What a scoop - this would elevate her story to the next level instead of just doing a crummy interview. Her interest in seeing this place in action had piqued. Maybe she could convince her boss to host a piece in a more prominent area of their publication. Shrewd decisions usually paid off, in her experience.
And if she was honest with herself, she had felt a twinge of arousal and a slight dampness between her thighs, thinking of what she might see. She crossed her legs and hoped Caleb hadn't noticed her bodily reaction.
"That could be interesting," she said courteously. "I would love to have a peek at the services you provide."
He smiled, "Hopefully not to tear us apart in your new article."
"Is that what you think I'm planning to do?"
"Not exactly. I've always been good at reading people, and I think you have... well, maybe I'm too much of a gentleman to say it."
Samantha lifted an eyebrow. "Like most journalists, I've received my fair share of hate mail. Whatever you want to say, I can handle it."
"It's a fairly racy comment."
"Even better. Go on."
Caleb carefully analyzed her. "You strike me as a fairly open-minded woman. Curious. With a tendency to try new things."
"That's obvious, considering what my job is."
"Yes, but you also have a sexual side," he said bluntly. "As evident by those stylish black Fuck Me heels that you're wearing."
Samantha's jaw nearly dropped and she uncrossed her legs, planting her heels firmly on the ground. She considered pressing the screen on her phone to end the audio recording because she knew this was headed off the rails. But she changed her mind and kept the recording going. After all, if this guy was a jerk, she'd want that documented.
"These are $500 dollar heels; nothing like Fuck Me heels," she politely scoffed. "Maybe a notch or two below, at best. These are check-out-my-legs kind of heels. There's a difference."
"In my book, it all leads down the same road."
For the first time in her professional career, Samantha suddenly felt self-conscious about her wardrobe. Had she revealed too much? Or had she finally met her match?
But at the same time, her plan to bait him was working. Was Caleb the giant prick she expected him to be? It would be an even bigger scoop, and best of all, it was all being recorded too. She could just imagine all the local headlines she could make with this article.
"I thought my heels would be a nice change of pace today," she said, trying to play it smooth.
"Sam... Can I call you Sam?"
"Samantha," she said firmly.
"Okay, Samantha, I'll be straight with you. The moment you walked into my office, I was floored by your legs. I love a great pair of legs and yours are truly exceptional. I can tell you're a runner."
"Five miles each weekend," she said proudly. "Sprints on weekdays. You have a good eye for calves."
"I have a good eye for the whole package. Your beauty. The way you walk. The way you carry yourself. Those heels."
"You keep coming back to my heels."
He nodded. "I can't help but think that it really says something about you."
"And what does this have to do with the tour?"
"I think you're a total package."
Outwardly, Samantha maintained composure. Keeping a straight face is an important part of conducting a good interview, in her book. It kept things professional, yet combative when necessary.
Inwardly, she relished the praise. Whether Caleb was bullshitting or not, Samantha always appreciated a well thought-out compliment, especially to those hard earned legs of hers. They were her best attributes.
"Caleb, I have a job to do," she said diplomatically. "This is my first time at a sex club, and I hope it's my last. No offense. This is a classy establishment you've set up. But I'm not that kind of girl."
"Perhaps not yet."
"Excuse me?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.
Caleb stood, walked over to her, and extended his hand in a polite fashion.
"Please, follow me," he said. "I'm going to give you a tour."
Taking his hand, she rose from her chair and stood on her heels.
"About time, I'd say."
She took her phone from the table and kept on recording their conversation as they went down the hall. This interview, it seemed, was headed towards a deeper direction.
***
By this hour, there were a few clients being shown to their rooms. They were mostly men of various ages, as Samantha had expected, wearing sharp suits and had come directly from the office on their breaks. Some were openly giddy about the "services" they'd receive. Some were straight-faced and had conversations about work.
She was also surprised to see that a few corporate women had shown up. Would they be 'giving' or 'receiving' as they headed into their rooms or waited for their appointments, she wondered.
"You seem displeased," Caleb said as the tour had taken them to a private room, which was used for all sorts of sexual practices.
"Not exactly. I have to give you credit. You've done a lot with this place."
"Be honest. Say what's really on your mind. I want to hear it."
"All of it?"
"Only the juicy bits," he said. "I love feisty women."
Samantha measured her tone and ignored the belittling comment, careful not to go overboard with an interview subject. But since she was given permission, she went for it.
"I personally find this place to be misogynistic," she said. "Frankly, I'm only doing this assignment because my boss is making me. We both know that sex sells and this club is the talk of the town. Otherwise, I'd never dream of setting foot in a place like this."
"And what do you think about me?"
"Off the record?" she asked.
"Of course."
"Handsome, smart, kind of an asshole, and a good businessman. You know how to give people want they want and how to satisfy their desires, no matter how dark or brazen."
"Well that confirms one thing," he said.
"Which is?"
"That you do have a sexual side as well," he replied. "A woman like that can be a very dangerous thing."
"Now you're twisting my words."
"You're an intelligent woman, Samantha. Wouldn't you want to tell your readers first hand what it's like to explore a club like this? From a woman's point of view? Since, as you know, a lot of respectable women come to a place like this. The least you could do is give them honesty."
It was a fair point. Samantha had always strived to give readers in this city the truth, especially her female readers when it came to issues of sex and equality. Her eyes surveyed the room again. This seemed like sex on another level than what she was accustomed to.
Caleb pointed to something at the end of the room, a steel table cushioned for someone to lay on, and Samantha turned to look at it. Then she felt Caleb place both hands on her shoulders to rub.
Her instincts went into full gear. Grateful that all those years studying karate as a teen were still imprinted in her muscle memory, she was prepared to throw a roundhouse kick in his direction at any moment, as she was being touched. Samantha made a mental note to thank her mom for insisting she take those classes back then.
"Samantha, you're obviously an expert journalist," he continued, still rubbing her shoulders. "But even I can tell you that experiencing something is the best way to report on it. I know you have reservations about Satisfaction and I understand where you're coming from. Now, if you want to give your readers the truth, rather than your uninformed opinion, then I suggest you do as I say."
She could tell he was being genuine. She also knew what he was implying as well. She wondered how far she was willing to go for this story. Her career and reputation meant everything to her, and a scoop like this could only help her grow.
It was time to stop recording. She pressed the screen, turning the recorder off, and she put her phone away. This wasn't something she wanted saved-- ever.
"What did you have in mind?" she asked.
"You see that bar hanging on the wall?" he asked, gesturing to the side of the room. "It's called a Spreader. In my opinion, that'll be right up your alley, no pun intended."
Following his gaze, Samantha saw a black bar, maybe two feet long, with clasps on each end.
"A Spreader? I hope you're not intending on holding my legs open with that, are you?"
She felt her left thigh twitch. The kick, it seemed, was still an option that a part of her wanted to exercise.
"What if I told you that a submissive woman is really the person in control? She's the one that has the ability to end everything with one simple word. You keep thinking that women who come here aren't in charge of their bodies. That's narrow-minded. Especially for a smart journalist like yourself. Think about it. If you don't feel comfortable or want to stop, that's in your control."
Her pussy clenched at the thought. As scary and degrading as it sounded, it was also an enticing thought. In her wheelhouse of fantasies, this was definitely on the list. Though she never thought anything like this would ever happen.
She shook her head and blushed. "Even if I wanted to, and I don't, my reputation is too important. I can't risk being seen doing anything here-- not that I'd even want to."
"Not if you're face down. Our male clients never ask about true identity. We take client confidentiality very seriously here. Usually, our male clients just want a woman's hole; her mouth, pussy, or ass."
The thought took her breath away.
"Hypothetically, which should I expect to happen?" she asked with caution.
"Well, you'll be face down and your bottom will be pointed outward. I'm sure you can use your imagination for that."
Her thighs clenched together, nearly crossing. "Oh..."
"We have a couple of appointments soon. Our staff members are set to take care of them, but perhaps you'd like to help. Since you're worried about your identity, which is understandable, I'll have you bent over that table, with the Spreader holding your legs open so they can fuck you. There's no way that they'd see your face."
"They?"
"Two businessmen," Caleb replied, like this was so normal. "They'll take turns with your posterior. They are returning clients, so everything will run smoothly."
She gulped. "Why would two successful men want to share the same woman?"
"Ego. There's an odd sense of power in double-teaming a woman. Plus, I'll tell them you're semi-famous. They'll love it. And they'll have no idea that they'll be fucking an award-winning journalist."
There was a sense of seductiveness and sincerity in his voice, especially in his last line about her being an award-winning journalist. Samantha wondered if Caleb was actually a reader of her work.
She sighed. "Don't say anything about my career or where I work."
"I'll only tell them that you're doing 'research' for something."
"I take great pride in my research." The self-respect was evident in her voice. "I always deliver the truth, and sometimes the truth comes at a cost."
He nodded in agreement. "Our secret."
She could tell from the look in his eyes that he meant every word. In a place like this, confidentiality was everything. As a journalist with many sources, she knew a lot about trust. Her instincts told her that this was a man of integrity.
"Okay," she managed to whisper.
"But first, you need to decide on your safe word."
"Asshole, comes to mind."
"Okay then. Asshole is your safeword. Keep in mind, if you say 'Asshole' while a client is fucking you, they might get the wrong idea and shove a cock up your ass."
Her sphincter clenched and she brushed off the notion. "If this place is as empowering as you say it is, then it won't come to that."
"You'll be in good hands, especially with me in the room, I can assure you. Now, with that out of the way, I'll need you to undress. You must be naked."
Her body tensed. "What?"
"That's part of what they're paying for. Nudity from a woman as beautiful as yourself. Get them hard."
"Just like that? I'm supposed to strip?"
"Yes, Samantha. Just like that. My clients also pay a lot of money for promptness, and their appointment starts soon. Leave your heels on. A lot of classy men love seeing heels on a woman, myself included."
She still wanted to kick him with her expensive Jimmy Choo heels, but if what he said was true, if she was still in control and could stop this at any moment, why not give it a try? She was more than capable of defending herself, should the need arise. And if anything got too far out of line, she could always sue. Her boss had one shark of a lawyer.
Aside from her rightful cautiousness, she was also extremely horny as well. It had been a while since she had last gotten laid, as she was too busy with her career, and this place seemed like the perfect avenue for exploring amazing sex. Most of all, she had never experienced sex under the guidance of a true professional, and she did consider Caleb to be a professional at this.
This was worth the risk.
She dropped her dress to the floor and did as he commanded.
Facing Caleb and looking him in the eye, she quickly undid her bra clip. Dangling the strap on the end of her index finger, she tossed it aside. Her breasts were rather small and perky. Her pink nipples were hard with arousal.
Keeping her legs straight and in one slow motion, her thumbs slid under her black lace panties slipping them down her beautiful toned legs before stepping out of them in her sky-high heels. She was cleanly shaven as usual. Again, dangling it off her index finger as if to tease, she finally dropped it to the floor.
She stood there posing with her legs spread wide, pushing her ass out on display. She had the body of a runner. Lean and efficient, with defined thighs and calves, not to mention a very round and firm ass. She even made sure to model her heels as well, which served to further enhance her statuesque legs. It turned her on being admired like this, even though she still felt apprehensive about the whole thing.
"Exactly what I expected," he nodded at her. "You're very beautiful."
"Thank you," she said in a vulnerable voice.
"Lay on the table. Breasts and stomach down. The table is padded with cushion and covered in silk for a woman's comfort. Keep your heels on the floor. I can assure you that this will be comfortable."
"How can you be so certain?"
"The table was specifically manufactured for this," he said. "Besides, you're not the first professional woman who's been fucked on it."
"By two cocks?" she questioned him.
"Sometimes more. Professional women work hard. They deserve a good gangbang every now and then."
Samantha shuddered at the thought of an office woman taking a full-on gangbang on that cushioned table. She prayed the fabric on the table was cleaned thoroughly after each session.
Caleb instructed her to bend over and lay face down on the table. To her surprise, the silk surface of the table was smooth and clean and she actually enjoyed resting her face on it. Her breasts and stomach felt snuggled against the cushion.
He gently guided her ankles apart, his thumbs lightly massaging her lower calves, and Samantha wiggled her heels so she was spread open even further. She blushed knowing that now, he could see directly inside her pink pussy and asshole. She wondered if he was actually looking, though she felt certain he had at least stolen a peek.
Taking the first restraint, he buckled the strap tightly to her right ankle and then did the same with her left.
For the first time in Samantha's life, she felt her limbs being cuffed. Her ankles were now tightly restrained and the Spreader prevented her from closing her legs. She gave two gentle tugs of resistance in each ankle. No success. Her legs were trapped, spread wide open.
Caleb rubbed her calves, then lower down to her feet and heels.
"I'll be right back," he said, patting her ankles. "The clients are waiting. I'm sure they'll be excited about the idea of taking a public figure such as yourself. Soon, you're going to be a well-fucked woman."
He kissed her left butt cheek, and for some reason, Samantha really appreciated that small gesture.
***
As Caleb left to get the clients, she was now alone in her provocative pose, left with her own thoughts.
Strangely enough, this felt empowering to Samantha. 'The things I'd do for good reporting,' she playfully thought. This didn't feel as nerve-wracking as she had expected just minutes ago. This was just like waiting for an ob/gyn or waiting for a spa treatment; naked, waiting to be checked out.
That changed the second she heard the door open and Caleb returned with the two men. Her heart raced and she wished she could bury her face further into the cushioned table. She questioned herself. Doubt crept in her mind.
Was this the biggest mistake of her life?
When the door closed, Samantha wondered what the clients must have thought of her. At the right angle, any of them would be able to see her pussy and asshole, wide open, thanks to the Spreader holding her ankles apart.
"You were right," Client #1 said in a pleased tone, like he had just won a prize. "This mystery woman is a real beauty. And those legs. She's a work of art. I'm glad she decided to give this a try, whoever she is."
"I agree," Client #2 replied with a deeper, more gravelly voice. "Caleb, you always manage to find the best women. The way those heels are pushing her ass upwards, I'm going to have to fuck her little hole."
The comment about her ass made Samantha's cheeks tighten.
"Both of you know the rules," Caleb said professionally. "Her identity is top secret, so don't ask. Since this is her first time, I'll be here to supervise. Gentlemen, she's yours for the fucking."
Words which Samantha would never forget. Ever. It made her feel like a porn star. And not a journalist on assignment. Maybe that was a good thing?
The first client came up behind her and started squeezing her bare ass, gently caressing her roundness with his hand before letting it wander and slip to her pussy.
Samantha let out a gasp, not knowing what to expect next. She could hear him shifting behind her as he massaged her already wet pussy lips. He still had one hand on her ass.
She felt his hand leave her cunt and grab her second ass cheek, spreading her, leaving her even more vulnerable and exposed. She loved every second of it, despite the humiliation of her sex being exposed to three men, two of whom were absolute strangers.
"Oh," she moaned, as she felt his tongue flicking her pussy hole.
As she tried to focus and enjoy her pleasure, she prayed that neither of them would recognize her voice; not that she was a big celebrity or anything. But she was extremely paranoid about being exposed. Her career could be jeopardized if anyone found out, and she was positive that her twitter account would be filled with nasty comments about her sexuality.
Client #1 knelt behind her, with his face smashed between her legs, licking her juices and sucking her clit. How could she ever think that this was degrading-- it felt fantastic! These mixed feelings about this experience were dancing around in her head and the journalist in her would have a field day writing about this tonight.
She felt a long and thick finger enter her wet pussy, searching deeply inside her. The finger turned, and in that second, all her uncertainties melted away. Between her clit and G-spot being stimulated, she simply lost it. She was swept by the wave of her first climax. Her toes curled into her heels and she saw stars.
"Whoever this woman is, she's orgasmic as hell," the client marveled. "Let's see how she reacts to my cock in her."
With her head still in the clouds, she heard him unzip, and felt him work his hard cock in her pussy with a series of pushes, filling her up. The entrance was so easy thanks to the natural lubrication of her wetness along with the Spreader doing its job by holding her legs open. This abrupt movement made Samantha screech out, unable to contain her pleasureful cry. Her body pulled on the restraints. She had never felt so trapped in her life and she couldn't believe that the feeling was turning her on.
With both hands now on her hips while pounding her with everything he had, the man bent down and whispered in her ear.
"You're such a good fuck," he asked in between deep thrusts. "Do you need to use your safe word? I was told you're sensitive and fragile, and maybe looking for an exit. I like being gentle with first-timers."
"No," she softly hissed.
That's when she realized. A submissive person is only that because prior consent had already been given by them. Without the submissive, there was no dominate, and vice versa. One needed the other in order to get their pleasure. Oddly enough, this epiphany was perfect for her story.
"Good, because I'm not close to being done with you," he chuckled while thrusting harder.
As he finish saying that, he used his thumb and started rubbing the gentle nub of her rear end.
"Have you ever been double penetrated?" Client #1 asked while thrusting faster. "My cock in your pussy, my finger in your ass. I want this to be memorable for you."
Samantha didn't have a chance to answer the question, as he was already inserting his thumb in her asshole. All she could do was cry out with appreciation. She had never had both holes filled at the same time. She wasn't expecting this to feel so good.
The Client twisted his thumb out and replaced it with two fingers, which he lubricated with fluids from her pussy. The pressure of his fingers on Samantha anal wall was putting extra friction on his cock, making him grunt loudly and frantically.
Samantha felt once more like her convictions were being shattered to pieces as she laid on her stomach getting fucked, with her body rocking back and forth for the next several minutes. There was nothing misogynistic going on at the moment, despite her highly submissive posture. It was all so very good, as much for her as for the client.
In one big animal roar, the man came loudly and violently. She could feel the spasms of his cock jerking as he gave her a big load. As his last strokes were dying down, she came once more, clinging to the table she was leaning on.
He patted her butt. "Thanks so much, sweetheart. I hope you got what you wanted out of this, whatever it is."
Samantha took in a shaky breath. "I did."
She had sincerely enjoyed it, and that shocked her.
He pulled out of her cum-drenched, gaping pussy, then stepped away. Samantha heard the clients exchange words.
"You're going to enjoy her, trust me."
"Seems like it. She looks so pent up."
Had her frustrations been so obvious? She wondered. Her body, it seemed, had given away all her secrets.
Client #2 walked up to Samantha and rubbed her upper and lower back before moving his hands down to start rubbing her hips and thighs. The man was admiring her naked physique, and his hands made their way down to her ankles to rub around her heels and feet.
"I'm a sucker for a woman in heels," the man said with his distinctly deep voice. "It makes your legs and backside look so perfect. Since your pussy is cum drenched, and I can't fuck your mouth, I'll have to settle for your little asshole. Perfect. Enjoy it, sweetheart."
She gasped with nervousness and a slight hint of excitement. Samantha wasn't a novice when it came to anal sex. She actually enjoyed it a great deal, and an empowered woman is one who's able to acknowledge what she wants and likes.
She wasn't about to show any weakness or give in by saying her safe word. The 'research' must be continued and she was going to do just that.
Client #2 didn't waste a second and started stretching her already loosened asshole. Using two fingers per hand, he slightly pushed himself in and pulled the walls to each side to loosen her even more. Then he pulled out. He had a small container of lube in his pocket, complimentary of Satisfaction, and he poured the contents onto his finger, which he dug further into her ass. When he pulled his finger out, he poured the remainder directly into her hole.
As he was playing in her ass, Samantha was gripping the table again. The built up expectation was getting to her and she was concentrating on relaxing and opening herself, taking in deep slow breaths.
She gasped at feeling the tip of his cock pushing in. He was slowly sinking his thick rod into her, pulling it out gently, but not completely, before going back in deeper. Soon, he was entirely in, and Samantha could feel his balls grazing against her labia.
"Oh, you like that, don't you?" Client #2 asked, holding his cock inside her asshole. "I wonder who you are. Someone I've worked with? A boss? No, I'd recognize your ass and legs a mile away. An actress researching a part? A city councilwoman? A reporter? Can I call you my little sex Princess? Would that be okay?"
Her heart nearly skipped a beat when he said 'reporter.' So close to being caught, assuming this man was a news junkie; and most successful businessmen are. She gritted her teeth and moaned her approval of the term 'Princess.'
He slapped her butt while fucking it. "Well then, you're a good Princess. So warm and inviting."
In one big thrust he starting fucking her ass faster and faster. Holding onto both her hips, her ass was getting the pounding of a lifetime. Her walls stretched to the limit. The Spreader on her ankles kept her posterior open. The sound of their bodies slapping mixed with Samantha's now persistent moaning and panting were echoing throughout the room.
The sensation of his cock going in and out was almost too much for her. Her legs were shaking and her knuckles turned white from holding the table so tightly. Her body rocked back and forth, pushing her face flat on the cushioned table every time.
His hands grasped her so tightly that he was nearly bruising her by accident. He was making sounds like a mad man.
She barely heard Client #2 say, "You're so beautiful, Princess. Your ass feels like heaven. It's so tight and soft."
Then she felt him tense up and give one last big thrust. His cum filled her rectum with smaller thrusts until he was drained completely. He took his wet cock out of her and his cum dripped down the length of her legs; even down to her precious heels. He flicked his cock on the outer ring of her anus. He wanted her passage covered with his cum.
He pulled his pants up and wiped the sweat off his forehead, using the back of his hand.
Both clients gave a slap to each of her butt cheeks. It was light enough to not be offensive, but hard enough to show that they thoroughly enjoyed using her pussy and her ass for their relief.
She closed her eyes and rested peacefully on the smooth material. It was a blissful feeling and she listened to the men cleaning themselves, then zipping their pants. The men in the room made small talk. Clearly they were satisfied.
"That was amazing. I know she'll always remember this, whoever she is."
"Likewise. Same time next week. Hopefully she'll be here again for more fun."
'I highly doubt that,' Samantha thought, smiling to herself. 'But I hope you boys enjoyed it.'
Caleb opened the door for them, thanking them for coming, and Samantha's blissful state was briefly interrupted by the thought of anyone in the hallway passing by and having a free peek at her nakedness.
The fear left when the door closed. The clients were gone now.
"How did you enjoy your research?" Caleb asked, returning to her.
Samantha moaned, "Take the Spreader off my ankles."
"Will do, Princess."
She waited patiently while he got on one knee behind her and undid the clasp on her left ankle. When she noticed that he paused and rubbed her calf, she couldn't help but wonder why.
"Do you plan on keeping me locked forever?" she asked sarcastically, with her face still resting on the table's cushion.
"I'm just admiring the view. Your ass and pussy are a sopping mess. But I'm certain that you can feel the mess leaking out of you. Would you like a taste?"
Even in her well-fucked state of being, she nearly gasped. She felt Caleb's fingers digging into her worn out holes -- pussy and ass -- scooping as much cum as possible.
While she remained laying on her stomach, the cum ladened fingers, fresh from her two holes, were now presented in front of her face.
"Eat up," he said, handing her a gift. "You've earned a nice dessert."
And she did. Cum wasn't exactly her favorite. It wasn't something she'd use as an ice cream topping. But she didn't mind it either. Especially under the right circumstance and the right mood. This was definitely both.
She opened her mouth and allowed Caleb to feed her the cum of two strangers who had just fucked her, whom she had never seen, and who she'd likely never know.
She closed her lips around the fingers and sucked and swallowed. Was this the craziest thing she had ever done for her career? Yes. Did she feel a pang of regret? Not yet.
She slowly stood upright when her other ankle was untied, shifting her full weight back onto her legs and heels, allowing Caleb to soak in the sight of her naked front side.
"I can't promise a glowing review," she said, licking around her lips for the remainder of cum. "What I can promise is, I'll be fair. I'll give an accurate assessment of this place, to the best of my abilities."
She was still trying to figure out what she was taking away from this experience. Was it shame? No, she felt no shame in what she did. Did she feel like she was being used? No, she had consented to everything and had the possibility to stop at any given time, and she chose not to. Did she enjoy being fucked by two complete strangers, never seeing their faces? Yes, yes she did. The tingling sensation in her pussy was all the truth she needed.
A good journalist is one that reports the truth. When it was time for Samantha to get dressed, she had all the truth she needed. |
