Chapter 5: Sex scene
Tasha released his spent cock with a contemptuous flick, leaving it twitching and wet against his stomach. "Still hard?" she sneered, shifting her knee higher, pressing the bone uncomfortably into his sternum, forcing a grunt from him. "Pathetic little fucker, all that bluster and you're still throbbing for me." She swung her leg over his head in one fluid motion, settling her weight onto his face, her silk skirt rucked up around her waist, the damp heat of her cunt sealing over his mouth and nose. "Earn it properly now, Harrison. Lick."
He choked, nostrils flaring desperately for air, his hands scrabbling weakly at her thighs. "Suck, you arrogant prick!" Tasha commanded, grinding down hard, the slick folds pressing relentlessly against his lips. "Get your fucking tongue inside me or suffocate." His muffled groan vibrated against her as his tongue finally, clumsily, probed her slit.
"Beg for it," she demanded, lifting her hips just enough to let him gasp a ragged breath. "Beg for my pussy, Tom." He sucked in air, eyes wide with panic and unwanted lust. "Please," he rasped, voice thick with shame. "Please... your cunt. Let me taste it."
Satisfied, she slammed back down, rocking her hips, grinding her clit against his nose. "Not bad," she conceded mockingly, feeling his tongue tentatively lapping. "For a talentless worm." Her hand cracked sharply against his upturned arse cheek, the slap echoing, the sting making him flinch and moan against her. "Work harder, maggot."
While he frantically licked and sucked, trying to please, trying to breathe, her slick fingers trailed lower, past his balls. "Bet you never thought about this, did you?" she taunted, circling the tight furl of his arsehole with one fingertip. He froze, a strangled sound escaping her muffling thighs. "Oh yes," she purred, pressing in slowly. "You take it so well." She pushed her finger deeper into his tight heat as he whimpered, her other hand landing another stinging spank.
"Good boy," she said, the praise acidic. "Taking my finger like a desperate little slut." She worked it slowly in and out, feeling him clench and shudder beneath her. "Now," she commanded, lifting her weight slightly. "Fuck me, Tom. Prove you're more than just a mouth and a hole." She guided his slick cock towards her entrance, hovering just above him. "Beg again."
"Fuck," he panted, hips straining upwards. "Please, Tasha. Fuck me. Let me fuck you." She impaled herself slowly, deliberately, onto his rigid length, her walls clenching tight as she took him deep. She pinned his wrists beside his head again, controlling the angle, the depth, every desperate thrust he made from beneath her. "That's it," she breathed, riding him hard, the power thrumming through her veins. "Your ambition? Your big fucking plans?" "Just another deluded man controlled by his pathetic little dick"
Tasha rode him hard, her hips pistoning relentlessly, the wet slap of flesh echoing off the mahogany and rain-streaked glass. She watched his face contort – not just pleasure, but the agony of being used, his cock a mere tool within her. she hissed, squeezing her inner muscles viciously around his shaft, drawing a choked groan. "This is all you are now." His hips bucked uncontrollably, seeking deeper purchase, a ragged plea forming on his bruised lips. "Not yet," she snapped, abruptly lifting herself completely off his throbbing cock, leaving it glistening and achingly hard in the cold office air.
She settled back onto his chest, pinning his wrists beside his head once more. Bringing her fingers, glistening with her own slickness, to his mouth, she pressed them hard against his lips. "Clean them," she commanded, her voice flat. He flinched, shame flooding his eyes, but his tongue, acting with humiliated instinct, darted out to lick the moisture away. "All of it," she demanded, grinding her knuckles against his mouth, forcing his tongue to probe and suckle obediently. His eyes squeezed shut as he licked her fingers clean, the taste of her arousal mingling with the coppery tang of his own blood. "Good little fuck-toy," she murmured derisively, withdrawing her hand just as his tongue sought more.
Swinging her leg back over his head, she positioned herself above his face again, her soaked cunt hovering inches from his mouth. "Now beg properly, Harrison," she ordered, her voice dripping with contempt. "Beg me to sit on your worthless face. Beg me to let you taste what you tried to fight." He gasped beneath her, his cock twitching against his stomach. "Please... please, Tasha," he stammered, the words thick. "Sit on me. Let me... let me taste your pussy. Please." "Louder," she snapped. "I want to hear the pathetic little worm beg!" "FUCK! PLEASE!" he roared, humiliation warring with desperate need. "Let me taste you! Sit on my fucking face!"
Satisfied, she lowered herself slowly, deliberately, sealing her pussy over his mouth and nose, grinding her clit hard against his upper lip. "Lick," she commanded, her voice muffled by her own movement. "Make me come with that useless tongue." He obeyed frantically, his tongue probing, lapping, sucking at her swollen flesh with a fervor born of desperation and surrender. She moaned, a low, satisfied sound, rolling her hips against his face, her own pleasure building as she used him ruthlessly. Her head fell back, eyes closed, riding the sensations his frantic tongue provided, the sting from his earlier assault on her wrist a distant memory.
Abruptly, she stopped grinding, lifting her hips just enough for him to gasp a wet breath. "Enough," she declared, her voice thick with arousal but utterly controlled. Swinging her leg back over, she straddled his hips once more, gripping his still-hard cock. "Think you deserve to be inside me now, you pathetic cock sleeve?" she sneered, positioning the slick head at her entrance. She sank down onto him slowly, agonizingly, her walls stretching to accommodate his girth. "You're just a warm dildo, Harrison," she spat, fully sheathing him, her internal muscles clamping down like a vise. "A vibrating toy I'll use until I'm done." She began to ride him again, a slow, deliberate rhythm, her gaze locked on his. "You do not come," she commanded, her voice icy steel. "Not until I tell you. You even think about spilling inside me, and I'll leave you blue-balled and weeping on this fucking rug." His eyes widened in panic, his body instinctively tightening, fighting the overwhelming surge towards climax her demanding cunt provoked.
Her cunt clenched like a fist around his cock, milking him ruthlessly as she arched back, sweat gleaming between her breasts. "Fight it, you spineless prick," she hissed, grinding her clit against his pubic bone with slow, deliberate circles. "Your little dick belongs to me now." Tom gasped, hips stuttering, the muscles in his belly jumping wildly as her slick walls gripped him tighter. "Please... I can't..." he choked out, tears pricking his eyes, the raw sting from the belt welts across his arse cheek flaring with every movement. "Shut up and take it," Tasha snarled, slamming down harder, the force jolting his spine against the rug. She leaned forward, pinning his wrists again, her face inches from his. "You wanted power? This is power," she spat, her breath hot and sharp. "You're just a warm fucking hole for my cunt to use." Her thumb found his nipple through the torn shirt, pinching viciously until he cried out. His cock pulsed violently inside her, betraying him, the edge terrifyingly close. "Denied," she whispered, a cruel smile twisting her lips as she felt him tremble, his entire body rigid with the agonizing effort to obey. She lifted herself almost entirely off him, leaving just the swollen head trapped inside her entrance, slick and throbbing. "Beg me to shove you back in." He sobbed, broken. "Please... fuck... put it back... please!"
"Please!" Tom gasped, his voice shredded raw, hips straining off the rug towards her hovering heat. Tasha slammed down onto his cock with brutal force, the impact jarring his spine against the thick rug, the sting from the belt welts flaring anew across his arse. "That's it, you desperate little fuck-toy," she hissed, pistoning her hips with punishing speed, the wet slap of flesh echoing sharply off the mahogany desk. "All those boardroom fantasies? Reduced to this – my cunt milking your pathetic dick dry." She leaned forward, pinning his wrists harder, her breath hot and sharp against his ear. "Beg me to let you cum, Harrison," she commanded, grinding her clit against his pubic bone with each savage thrust, feeling his cock pulse violently inside her slick walls. "Beg me, you worthless worm, or choke on your own fucking need!"
"Please!" Tom sobbed, his voice cracking, raw and ragged like torn fabric, hips pistoning wildly beneath her against the wet rug. "Fuck, Tasha! Please let me cum! I need it... I'm begging..." Tears mingled with the sweat streaking his temples, his entire body shaking like a leaf in a gale, his cock swelling impossibly thicker inside her, a live wire of impending release. "I'm your fucking worm! Your toy! Just... please!"
Tasha leaned down, her hair brushing his sweating face, her voice a venomous purr cutting through his gasps. "Louder, maggot. Beg like the pathetic little office slut you really are. Admit you're nothing without my cunt gripping your worthless dick." She ground down hard, her slick walls deliberately massaging the engorged head, feeling the urgent, rhythmic flutter deep within his shaft, the telltale twitches telegraphing his complete loss of control. "BEG!"
"YES! GOD, YES! I'M YOUR SLUT!" he screamed, the sound raw and broken, echoing off the portraits of stern-faced men. "YOUR WORTHLESS FUCKING OFFICE SLUT! PLEASE LET YOUR TOY CUM IN YOUR CUNT, PLEASE!" His body arched violently, a strangled cry ripping from his throat as the inevitable surge began – she felt the hot, sudden pulse deep inside her, the desperate convulsion of his cock as it prepared to unload, the muscles in his abdomen seizing into rigid knots beneath her.
"Pathetic," she spat, the word dripping ice. With brutal speed, she ripped herself off his throbbing cock just as the first thick, hot jet of cum erupted into the cold office air, splattering violently onto his own heaving stomach and chest instead of her depths. He gasped, a sound of pure agony and shock, hips jerking helplessly as more spurts followed, painting streaks of white over his torn shirt and skin.
He was utterly exposed, convulsing in humiliating release against the rug he’d been pinned to. Tasha stood above him, breathing steadily, a cold fury in her eyes. She gathered a mouthful of saliva, thick and warm, and spat directly onto his pulsating, still-spurting cock. The glob landed with a wet slap on the slick head. "Disgusting," she stated flatly.
Before the aftershocks of his orgasm had even subsided, before he could comprehend the violation, she drew her bare foot back and kicked him squarely in the balls with the hard point of her stiletto heel. The impact was a sickening thud. Tom howled, a guttural, inhuman sound of pure agony, curling violently onto his side, clutching his tortured groin, vomiting bile onto the expensive rug between gasping, tear-choked sobs. The mingled scents of sex, sweat, bile, and leather filled the air, thick and nauseating.
Tasha smoothed her skirt, adjusted her blouse with chilling precision. She stepped over his writhing form towards the door, pausing only to glance back with utter disdain. "Predictable," she said, her voice echoing Archer's earlier assessment and her own cold judgment from moments before, the single word landing like a final, crushing blow on the broken man gasping on the floor. She walked out, leaving the heavy silence punctuated only by Tom's ragged, pain-filled whimpers.
The heavy mahogany door clicked shut behind Tasha, muffling Tom’s choked gasps. Cool, rain-scented air from the deserted corridor washed over her skin, a stark contrast to the thick heat of sex and humiliation clinging to Archer’s office. She smoothed her skirt over her hips, the silk whispering against her damp thighs, a faint tremor of exertion in her hands quickly stilled. Her heels struck the marble floor with precise, unhurried clicks, echoing in the vast, empty lobby still faintly smelling of rain and expensive polish. A cool sliver of triumph settled deep in her chest as she passed the security console near the elevators, its darkened screen reflecting her composed silhouette; she hadn’t bothered to flick the camera system back on after her earlier 'adjustments'. She smiled.