Office Bitch 7 - The Intrusion

Alex panted, sliding off Elliot's lap, his body slick with sweat and unresolved tension. The grinding had left him on a knife's edge—his erection straining, leaking in steady dribbles, every nerve ending alight with a confusion he couldn't shake. Why did the teasing make him want more when his mind screamed to stop? The bosses' touches lingered like ghosts, his entrance twitching emptily, begging against his will.

They guided him to the edge of the obsidian conference table, the cool surface a shock against his heated skin. "Sit," Theo commanded, pushing him down. Alex perched there, legs forced wide apart by Caleb and Marcus on either side, holding his thighs open. Exposed, vulnerable, his cock bobbed in the air, the room's lights highlighting every vein, every drop.

Julian approached first, a thick black marker in hand—phallic, smooth, the cap rounded. He slicked it with lube from the drawer, his fingers joining in. One digit slipped inside Alex, curling to brush that sensitive spot, while the marker pressed against the rim, teasing entry.

" Narrate it," Julian said. "What you're feeling. Deny it all you want."

Alex's voice broke. "Your finger... it's pressing inside. Hitting something—fuck, why's it spark like that? I don't like it, but... throbbing harder." The marker dipped shallowly, stretching him slightly. "The marker's... cold, weird. Pushing in a bit. Don't—it's making me leak more. Not pleasure, just... pressure."

The probing edged him higher, finger and object working in tandem, withdrawing just as his hips bucked involuntarily. Precum streamed down his shaft. Julian smeared it onto the marker's tip. "Clean it."

Alex's head was guided down, lips parting reluctantly. He licked, tasting the salty slickness. "This is... disgusting. My own mess. Why's my body doing this?"

Next, Elliot with a sleek silver pen—long, tapered, unmistakably suggestive. Fingers first, two now, scissoring lightly, then the pen sliding alongside, probing deeper to nudge his prostate.

"Talk," Elliot demanded.

"It's... fuller now. The pen's smooth, sliding in. Hitting that spot—ah, stop, it's building too much. I hate how it feels... good? No, not good—confusing. Leaking everywhere." His denial cracked as the edge approached, only for them to pull back. Smear, lick— the ritual repeated, his tongue tracing the pen's length, humiliation deepening.

Theo grabbed an elongated glass paperweight from the table—heavy, cylindrical, phallic in its girth. Fingers curled firmly, the object pressing in broader, stretching him more.

"Describe," Theo prompted.

"Wider... the paperweight's thick. Stretching me. Your fingers twisting—why's it pulse like that inside? I don't want the build-up, but it's... intense. Dripping so much." Edge, withdraw, smear the glistening precum on the glass, force the lick—Alex's protests weaker, body trembling.

Marcus chose a cluster of pens bound together with a rubber band—improvised, ridged. Fingers probing deep, the bundle teasing entry, adding texture.

"Out with it," Marcus said.

"Ridged... bumpy. Pushing against everything. Building pressure—fuck, close, but no. I deny it, it's not turning me on. Just... betraying." Streams of precum, smeared, licked clean amid stammered disgust.

Finally, Caleb with a rolled-up leather desk blotter—elongated, firm. Fingers and object edging relentlessly, the cycle peaking.

"All of it," Caleb urged.

"Full... the roll's firm, hitting deep. Pressure mounting—I can't, but I am. Leaking streams. Hate licking it, but..." The repeated cleanings left him dazed, body desperate, mind fractured in denial.

The bosses stepped back, leaving him teetering, no release in sight.