Office B*tch 8 - The Overload

Alex barely had time to catch his breath before the bosses manoeuvred him onto the conference table, the cold obsidian surface biting into his back. His legs were hoisted high, knees bent toward his chest, thighs spread wide by strong hands—Caleb and Theo gripping one each, pinning him open like a specimen. The position left everything exposed: his reddened ass, twitching entrance, and erection curving desperately toward his abs, still leaking from the prior intrusions. Confusion swirled in his mind—how had it come to this? He didn't want their fingers inside him, didn't want the way it made his body respond. But the anticipation alone had him clenching, a betrayal he couldn't control.

The others surrounded the table, a circle of suited figures looming over him. Elliot started, slicking two fingers with more lube before pressing them in deep, twisting to curl against that sensitive bundle inside. At the same time, Marcus reached down, his hand wrapping loosely around Alex's shaft, stroking slow and teasing.

"Fuck—too much," Alex gasped, head thrashing side to side. "Your fingers... deep, hitting that spot. I don't like it, but... clenching around them. And the strokes—making me throb. Stop, it's building weird."

Elliot's fingers thrust rhythmically, targeting his prostate with precision, while Marcus's strokes edged him higher, thumb circling the head. Involuntary clenches gripped the digits, his body milking them despite his protests. Streams of precum welled up, coating Marcus's hand.

"Look at that flow," Marcus murmured, lifting his slick fingers to Alex's mouth. "Suck them clean."

Alex turned his head away at first, but Julian's hand on his jaw guided him back. Reluctantly, he parted his lips, tongue lapping at the salty fluid. "Tastes... like me. Disgusting. Why's there so much? Not because I want this."

The intrusion escalated—Elliot added a third finger, stretching him wider, the lube making everything slicker, the probing more intense. Twists and curls sent sparks through him, his denials fracturing into gasps.

Next rotation: Julian took over the fingering, three digits plunging deep, twisting hard against the prostate. Theo stroked now, firm and unrelenting, edging without mercy.

"Deny it," Julian commanded.

"I... deny. Your fingers filling me—too full. Twisting there, making pressure build. I hate how it... pulses. Leaking streams now. Not pleasure, just... wrong." His body contradicted him, hips lifting slightly, clenches pulling the fingers deeper. Precum poured, collected on Theo's hand, forced into Alex's mouth. He sucked, choking on the taste, confusion mounting.

Theo switched in, fingers aggressive—four now, but shallow at first, building to deep thrusts, lube squelching. Caleb stroked, twisting at the base.

"More lube," Theo said, pouring it directly, making the slide effortless, the probing overwhelming. "Talk."

"Four... stretching wide. Hitting deep—ah, why's it spark like that? My cock's dripping constant. I don't want the overload, but... body won't stop." Clenches, leaks, suck— the cycle repeated, his tongue working over slick fingers, mind reeling.

Marcus's turn brought relentless curls, fingers hooked on the prostate, milking it. Elliot stroked, edging to the brink.

"Admit the betrayal," Marcus prompted.

"My body's... clenching hard. Leaking like a faucet. But I deny—it's not good, confusing me." Streams collected, sucked clean, the taste embedding the humiliation.

Finally, Caleb—fingers dexterous, twisting in patterns, lube-drenched for maximum intensity. Julian stroked, pushing the edge further.

"All of it," Caleb urged.

"Overloaded... fingers everywhere inside. Building too high—I can't, but I am. Deny, deny—why so much precum?" The final collection, fingers thrust into his mouth, sucking amid broken protests.

They stepped back, leaving him splayed, body quivering on the precipice, no release granted.