Pixie Isobella

‘Shut your eyes, love,’ Mr Phillips said, his voice hoarse. ‘I want a photo.’ I moaned in shock and humiliation as I felt the photocopier take a photo of my breasts, squashed down onto the glass. ‘Heh,’ he chuckled. ‘Silly slut.’ Then he was hammering himself into me, faster and faster, ramming me bodily against the photocopier, until I heard him cum again inside me with a guttural groan.

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Molly’s Cage: Chapter 23

Molly’s Cage is femsub maledom office erotica with non-consent, discipline, chastity belts, lactation and impregnation themes. Chapter 1 of Molly’s Cage is here.

I carried the box of files to Mr Hunter’s office on trembling legs.

I knew I should have felt used and gross, but I didn’t. I just felt wanton, like a temptress from some wicked, fantastical tale. My insides were warm and sensitive from Mr Phillips’ penetration, and my pussy lips and entrance felt abraded, sated somehow by his rough and impromptu use of me.

‘Heh,’ said Mr Hunter as I entered carrying the files. ‘You took your time. I heard that Phillips had a good time inside you. I’m glad to see you doing your job, Molly.’

I reddened, not knowing what to say. I was sure that this whole process had started with Mr Hunter telling me that I shouldn’t have sex, and now it felt like he was organising me to fuck everyone in the firm. Mr Phillips had put the dildo back inside me and locked up the chastity belt again, and its hard stiffness felt like an invader all over again in my insides.

I went through the motions with Mr Hunter for the rest of the evening. He didn’t say anything about my torn work shirt, he just groped my breasts as usual while he did some late work, then he put me in the milking machine for a long time while he took a phone call from some clients overseas.

I was silent the whole time, not knowing what to say. I watched my milk filling the bottles and I remembered Mr Phillips hungrily suckling on me, and I knew that I just wanted more.

I am the office slut, I thought ruefully, and I couldn’t even bring myself to feel sad about that. I lay awake that night, remembering every moment of the sex with Mr Phillips, my body feeling wanton and invaded. His cum was alive inside me right now, I knew it was, and that very fact felt so wicked and abandoned.

I already knew what to expect the following day when I received a message from Mr Phillips telling him to visit me in his office. I went, of course. Mr Hunter had trained me well in obedience, and anyway, I still didn’t want to lose my job. I didn’t like this crude man who had fucked me up against a wall, and then again bent forward over the photocopier, but I had spent all night thinking about him fucking me again.

It was lunchtime on a Friday, but the office was nearly empty, many people having left early before the weekend. I stepped into Mr Phillips office and — obediently shutting the door behind me when he told me to — immediately felt very vulnerable in this intimate setting.

He smiled at me from where he was sitting on a lounge at the side of his office, a beer in his hand.

‘You know what you’re here for, girl,’ he said, sounding jovial, winking at me.

I flushed with humiliation. I did indeed know what I was here for. The television on the office wall in front of him was playing some sports game, and I winced to myself that I was alone with him in such a masculine space.

He crooked his fingers at me.

‘Get over here. Pull your skirt up. And get those hooters out where I can see them.’

I stood in front of Mr Phillips, blushing as I pulled the hem of my skirt up to my waistline. It was humiliating to obey him when he didn’t even bother with basic politeness — but I knew I brought it on myself because I wanted to feel him inside me again. He didn’t say anything, one eye on me and one eye on the game, so I awkwardly unbuttoned my blouse. I took off my bra until my breasts were fully exposed, my shirt open and hanging.

I caught a glimpse of his groin, wishing I hadn’t when I realised that he was already hard inside his trousers. I whimpered softly to myself in embarrassment. I couldn’t believe that I was simply standing here, undressing to order, so that this man could fuck me without any foreplay or even a basic attempt at politeness.

He wasn’t even looking at me, and I blushed redder if possible, mortified that he was putting me through this.

‘Nice tits, girl,’ he said, casting a dismissive glance at my breasts, before returning his attention to the game. ‘I’d like to see you working in a topless bar one day, all the men groping your udders.’

Mr Phillips made me wait for a long time as I stood awkwardly in front of him, half naked. I guessed the game was at an important point but I felt humiliated and mortified, forced to stand here to await his pleasure. Eventually someone finally scored an important goal, and he cheered.

Only then did he snap his fingers at me and I stepped closer so that he could unlock the chastity belt. Today he just tucked the dildo into the waistband of my skirt and I flushed with embarrassment as I felt its wetness against my skin.

Mr Phillips loosened his trousers and his erection sprang forth, thick and hard, richly streaming precum from the tip. That’s going inside me, I thought, realising that I hadn’t really seen his cock last night in the photocopier room. He made me climb astride him and soon I felt my knees settling intimately around his thighs, my breasts large and heavy in his face.

‘Gods, you’re a luscious handful,’ he smirked up at me. I realised that he had angled the way he was seating so that he could watch the game while he fucked me, and I blushed with embarrassment. ‘Get down onto my cock. I’ve got to spend the afternoon shopping with my wife, would you believe it? Your cunt is going to give me the strength to get through it.’

‘Yes, Sir,’ I muttered, not knowing why I was agreeing to this.

I was kind of embarrassed to be having sex with a man who was married — I was pretty sure Mr Baldwin was married too — but I rationalised it by shrugging that I didn’t have much choice anyway.

What I couldn’t express to myself was that it also felt okay because nothing here felt real. There wasn’t any emotional attachment, I was a just a toy. Mr Phillips wasn’t having an affair with me, he was just using me to get off inside.

I lowered my hips until I could feel his shaft hard and warm against my pussy. The angle wasn’t quite right and I adjusted my hips, starting to run his hard tip up and down across and through my pussy lips.

‘That’s it,’ smirked Mr Phillips, meeting my eyes with a look of hungry triumph in his. He relaxed back against the couch, his eyes drifting inevitably back to the television screen over my shoulder as he took another sip of his beer. ‘Give me a good time,’ he said, his voice sounding distant. ‘That’s an order, girl.’

Feeling underappreciated as he ignored me to watch the game, I started to rub myself back and forth across him, teasing the head of his cock with my wet pussy.

When did I get so good at this? I asked myself, but I didn’t have an answer. Mr Phillips groaned with sudden lust as I started to push myself down onto him, impaling myself on him. He kept ignoring me almost completely as I fucked myself onto him, his eyes on the game, taking heavy, relaxed swigs from the beer bottle.

‘That’s it,’ he moaned once, gasping for breath as I ground myself down onto him, using my internal muscles to stimulate his shaft. ‘What a filthy little slut you are. Harder.’

I flushed hotly but I fucked Mr Phillips harder, writhing my hips against him, using my muscles hard on the thickness inside me, trying to milk him. He kneaded one of my breasts absent-mindedly with a single hand but otherwise ignored me, his eyes keenly following the game. I whimpered softly to myself to feel so objectified — I was an obedient fuck, a cute armful and a place to cum. He wasn’t paying any attention to me as a person.

Mr Phillips ignored me until the game was in its final moments, with his team scoring a game-winning goal in the final moments. Then he dropped his hands to my hips, using his grip to force me down onto him over and over again, roughly, viciously, while his hips pumped his cock high up inside me. He came with a deep guttural groan, his eyes blazing as the announcer called the final results.

As he came, I whimpered to know that Mr Phillips’ seed was inside me again. His eyes were still on the aftermath of the game where the announcer was analysing the scores, and I wanted to cry. He looked at me eventually, still hard inside me despite his orgasm, his breath still coming fast and heavy across my face.

‘Get on the floor,’ he said, the hoarse words an order. ‘Hands and knees. Like a whore.’

I obeyed, of course. I felt like I always obeyed now. I moved off the couch, whimpering to myself as his thick shaft slid out of me, and then I dropped down onto the office carpet on my hands and knees. Mr Phillips grabbed my hips from behind, moving to his knees on the floor, then he was inside me again almost immediately, filling me. He started to thrust himself roughly, brutally, hungrily into me, just as he had done last night.

I forced myself to be quiet as he rammed himself into me. I gasped silently with my mouth wide open as he ruthlessly sought his second orgasm inside me. He was so rough that my senses were swirling when I finally heard him cumming again, his hands hot and hard on my hips, my breasts swinging in the air beneath me.

‘Fuck, you’re such a slut,’ he said as his sweat dripped down onto me. ‘You’ll take any man, won’t you?’

I won’t, I thought to myself, but I didn’t know if it was true anymore. I had let Mr Baldwin fuck me — a quickie he had said, against the wall — and now I had let Mr Phillips cum inside me five times in twenty-four hours. Mr Phillips couldn’t hear the thoughts inside my head though, and soon he pulled himself out of me, slapping my hip with a casual hand as he stood.

‘That’s a good cow,’ he said breezily from far above me. ‘Get up and straighten your clothes. I’m done with you for today.’

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