Office B*tch 10 - The Circle and Cage

Alex's jaw ached from the endless rotations, his knees raw from the crawling, throat tight from the forced service. The second round had blurred into a haze—sucking, gagging, cleaning his own leaks from the floor like some broken animal. His body was a wreck: erection still rigid, dripping incessantly, a constant reminder of the confusion gnawing at him. Why did the degradation keep him hard? He didn't want their cocks in his mouth, didn't want the taste lingering on his tongue. But here he was, on his knees in the center of the room, the bosses rising from their chairs to surround him.

They formed a tight circle, suits disheveled, shafts in hand as they stroked themselves to the edge. Elliot's voice cut through: "Kneel straight. Mouth open wide, tongue out. You're our receptacle now."

Alex's mouth fell open, tongue extending reluctantly, eyes darting up to the ring of men above him. "No... don't— I can't take all of you like this."

"Quiet," Marcus snapped, his hand moving faster. The others synced their rhythms, breaths quickening, the air thick with tension.

Alex knelt there, exposed and waiting, his own cock twitching in the open, leaking onto his thighs. The sight of them stroking—aimed at his open mouth—sent unwanted shivers through him, his body clenching despite the denial in his mind.

They reached the brink together, grunts low and synchronized. Streams arced into his mouth—hot, thick, filling it rapidly from all sides. Elliot first, then Marcus, Julian, Theo, Caleb—cum pooling on his tongue, overflowing slightly to drip down his chin.

"Hold it," Theo commanded, voice rough. "Show us."

Alex's mouth stayed open, the bitter, salty load visible, his gag reflex fighting. "Mmmph— gross, too much. Don't make me..."

"Swallow," Elliot ordered.

He gulped it down in reluctant swallows, gagging as the taste overwhelmed him—musky, viscous, coating his throat. Denials bubbled up: "Hate it... why's my cock leaking more? Not from this."

The bosses stepped back, satisfied, leaving him kneeling in the aftermath, body still betraying him with final, traitorous drips.

Alex remained on his knees in the center of the circle, throat working around the lingering taste of their combined release. His own erection stood painfully rigid, untouched during the final act, leaking steadily onto the floor in thin, frustrated strings. The bosses stepped back, zipping themselves up with casual efficiency, their breathing steady while his came in ragged gasps. The room felt smaller, the air heavier.

Elliot reached into a drawer of the conference table and withdrew a small black leather riding crop—thin, flexible, the tip slightly wider. Without a word he stepped forward, crouched slightly, and brought it down in a swift, precise snap against the underside of Alex's shaft.

The sting was immediate and shocking—cold fire along the sensitive skin. Alex yelped, hips jerking back instinctively.

"Stay still," Elliot said flatly.

Another snap, higher, catching the head. Alex's cock twitched violently, the sharp pain cutting through the haze of arousal like ice water. A third strike, then a fourth, methodical, alternating sides. Each one landed with a crisp crack, the leather biting just enough to deflate the erection without bruising badly.

Within seconds the rigid length began to soften, wilting under the cold, punishing rhythm. Alex's breath hitched with every snap, body curling inward, but the hands of Marcus and Theo on his shoulders kept him upright.

When the shaft hung limp and reddened, Elliot set the crop aside and produced a small, gleaming steel chastity cage from the same drawer—tiny, barely two inches long, the ring snug, the cage curved and perforated. He knelt, slicked the ring with a drop of lube, and fitted it around the base of Alex's softened cock and balls. The cold metal made Alex flinch.

"No—" Alex whispered, voice cracking.

Elliot ignored him, sliding the cage over the deflated head, aligning it carefully, then clicking the small padlock shut with a final, definitive snap.

The cage sat tight, compressing everything into a humiliatingly small package. Alex stared down at it, the steel glinting under the office lights, his arousal now locked away, impossible.

Caleb spoke next, tone almost conversational. "This stays on for the next month. Minimum. You will not touch yourself. You will not come without explicit permission—and permission will not be granted."

Alex's stomach dropped. "A month? I can't—"

"You can," Julian cut in. "And you will. Every day during business hours you will report to each of our offices in turn. One task per boss. Some simple. Some... less so. Failure to appear, failure to complete a task, or any attempt to remove the device results in immediate termination and legal consequences for the embezzlement we have documented."

Theo leaned in, voice low. "Tasks might include fetching coffee on your knees, polishing shoes with your tongue, holding stress positions while we work, or simply standing in the corner with your pants around your ankles so we can admire our handiwork. You'll learn exactly how small you really are."

Marcus smiled, almost kindly. "The cage will remind you constantly. Every time you get hard—and you will—the metal will bite. Every denied erection will make the next one worse. By the end of the month you'll be begging just to be allowed to leak."

Elliot stood, straightening his tie. "You may dress now. Return to your desk. Tomorrow at nine sharp you begin with me."

Alex rose on unsteady legs, the cage shifting uncomfortably between his thighs with every movement. He gathered his scattered clothes—shirt wrinkled, trousers creased—and dressed in silence, the small bulge of the device barely noticeable under the fabric but impossible to ignore internally.

As he reached the glass door, Caleb called after him.

"And Alex?"

He paused, hand on the handle.

"Welcome to repayment."

The door slid shut behind him.