Chapter 2: Chapter 2
The light came grey through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the master suite, and Ingrid was already awake. She had learned to wake before they did. The chains around her wrists clinked softly as she shifted, the leather cuffs biting into skin that had grown used to the pressure. Her knees were pressed against the silk sheets, her chest flat against the mattress, and the plug buried inside her had been in place since midnight.
She counted the ceiling panels to keep her mind from drifting into something that tasted like misery.
The bedroom door opened. Two sets of footsteps crossed the marble floor.
"Still warm," Marek said, his voice rough with sleep. His hand landed on her ass, squeezing the enhanced curve hard enough to make her gasp. "Good. I need a place to put my cup."
He set the heavy ceramic mug between her shoulder blades, the heat of the coffee bleeding through her skin. Leo appeared a moment later, already dressed in a crisp white shirt, his grey eyes scanning the bed with clinical dispassion. He held a stack of documents.
"Raise your hips."
She obeyed without hesitation, lifting her buttocks to create the angle he wanted. Leo slid the papers beneath her, using her arched back as a slanted desk. The edges of the paper scratched against her skin. He pulled a fountain pen from his breast pocket and began to write, the nib scraping softly above her spine.
"Hold still," he murmured, not looking at her. "If you tremble, I'll know."
The coffee grew colder against her shoulders. Her thighs ached from the position. The plug was a constant presence, filling her completely, demanding that she not forget what she was for.
Marek finished buttoning his shirt. He moved around the bed to stand in front of her, his expensive trousers already snug against his thighs. He looked down at her face, her platinum hair spread across the pillow, her blue eyes wide and obedient.
"My coffee's going lukewarm, sweetheart," he said, and his hand came down to cup her breast. The weight of it filled his palm. "These were too small before. Remember? We fixed that."
She nodded, the motion awkward with her face pressed into the mattress.
"We didn't fix your mouth," he said, thumb dragging across her nipple through the thin silk of the nightgown they had dressed her in. "We're going to work on that today."
Leo set his pen down. He extracted the documents from under her and placed them in a leather folder, then turned her over with one hand on her hip. Her body flipped like a mannequin, limbs obeying without resistance. He studied her, naked beneath the sheer white silk, the massive curve of her breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath.
"You'll stay here while we're in the office," he said, reaching for a silk scarf from the nightstand. He folded it once, twice, and pressed it between her lips. "No noise. No one knows you're here. The staff think the suite is empty."
He tied the scarf at the nape of her neck. The silk stuffed her mouth, muffling everything she might have said. She could still taste the lavender from the last time he had used it on her.
Marek circled the bed and grabbed her ankles, spreading them wide. The plug shifted inside her, pressing against her walls. He knelt and pulled it out, the thick rubber sliding free with a wet sound, and she shuddered at the sudden emptiness.
"Wait," she tried to say, but the gag swallowed the word.
He ignored her. He lined himself up, the head of his cock slick with her wetness, and drove inside her in one brutal thrust. Her back arched into the mattress. His hands hooked under her knees, forcing her legs open wider.
"God, you're tight," he growled, his hips already moving in short, punishing strokes. "Every day I fuck this cunt and every day it's like the first time. Fucking perfect."
Leo watched. He had removed his shirt, his lean torso pale and defined, and he had taken his cock in hand as he stood at the foot of the bed. He stroked himself slowly, his grey eyes fixed on the place where Marek's cock disappeared into Ingrid's body. Inch by inch. Out and back in.
"Don't waste it," Leo said, his voice low and even. "She needs to be full when we leave."
Marek grunted in acknowledgment. He fucked her harder, the slap of his hips against hers echoing off the walls. Ingrid's muffled sounds rose through the silk gag. Her enhanced breasts bounced with every impact, heavy and full, the silicone inside feeling like an extension of her own flesh now.
He came with a groan, his fingers digging bruises into her thighs as he emptied himself deep inside her. He pulled out slowly, leaving her gaping and leaking, and then he grabbed the plug from where he had dropped it and shoved it back in, sealing his seed inside her.
"Hold it," he said, patting her hip. "Don't let a drop escape."
Leo took his turn. He moved to the head of the bed, guiding his cock to her lips. He loosened the silk gag just enough to pull it down beneath her chin, and she opened her mouth immediately. Her jaw was already aching from the position, but she knew better than to hesitate.
"That's it," Leo murmured, sliding deep into her throat. "Remember to breathe through your nose. You know the drill."
He fucked her mouth with slow, deliberate strokes, using her throat as a warm sheath. His fingers tangled in her platinum hair, gripping the roots, tilting her head back so she could take all of him. She gagged, her eyes watering, but he didn't slow down.
"When we come back," he said, his voice strained, "I expect to be able to see my cock in your throat from across the room. Practice in the mirror."
He came with a low grunt, pulling out and painting her lips and chin with his release. He wiped his hand on the sheets, then pushed the silk gag back into place, smearing his seed across her tongue.
Both men dressed in silence. Marek buckled his belt with a sharp snap. Leo adjusted his cufflinks. Neither looked at her again until they stood at the door.
"Lunch on the table at noon," Leo said. "You'll be on the bed, full and quiet. If the plug is empty when we return, you'll clean the bathroom floor with your tongue."
"Yes, Leo," she said, the words muffled but clear enough.
The door clicked shut. The locks engaged.
Ingrid lay on the silk sheets, her body heavy with their use. The plug filled her, the gag filled her mouth, and the taste of Leo's semen lingered at the back of her throat. She stared at the ceiling and began to count the panels again.
The office tower hummed with the sound of forty floors of corporate enterprise. Ingrid had been driven in the back of a black SUV with tinted windows, a long cashmere coat covering the skimpy latex maid's outfit that Marek had strapped into place before they left the apartment. The coat reached her ankles. The latex underneath reached almost nowhere.
Now she crawled across the polished marble of the executive boardroom, her bare knees sliding against the cold stone, the coat long since discarded in the corner. The latex bodice squeezed her torso, pushing her enhanced breasts up into two glistening mounds that spilled over the top. A matching thong rode high between her ass cheeks, the plug still seated deep inside her.
Leo and Marek stood at the head of the conference table, speaking into a speakerphone. Three other voices crackled through. Deal terms. Revenue projections. Ingrid didn't listen to the words. She had learned not to.
"Under the table," Leo said, not interrupting his sentence.
She crawled beneath the long mahogany table, positioning herself between the two leather chairs where her husbands would sit. The carpet was thicker here, softer against her aching knees.
Marek sat down first, his legs spreading wide. She settled between them, her head bowed. His hand came down to rest on her hair, stroking absently as he spoke.
The meeting dragged on. Leo crossed his ankles and used her back as a footrest. His heel pressed against her spine, a constant pressure reminding her of her place. At one point, he pulled a pen from his pocket and slipped it between her breasts, tucking it into the tight valley of latex and flesh.
"Hold that for me," he murmured into the phone, and she knew the instruction was for her.
She held it. The minutes stretched. Her thighs trembled. Her jaw ached from the effort of keeping her head bowed.
When lunch arrived, a caterer set trays on the table and left without a word. Leo ended the call. Marek pulled Ingrid out from under the table by her hair.
"Mouth open," he said.
She opened it. He took a slice of smoked salmon from the tray and laid it across her tongue. Then a small dollop of dill cream. Then a piece of bread. He fed her like she was a plate, each piece of his lunch set directly into her mouth.
"Hold it all," he said, sitting back. "If you swallow before I tell you to, I'll refill your cunt with the coffee carafe."
She held the food in her mouth, the flavors mixing on her tongue, saliva pooling in her throat. Her eyes watered. She didn't swallow.
Leo stood and walked around the table. He crouched beside her, examining her face with cold interest. He reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb.
"Pretty," he said. "Even when you cry, you're pretty. That's why we keep you."
He stood and smoothed his tie. "Strip the latex off her. I want her on the chaise. We'll finish the afternoon work with her between us."
Marek ripped the bodice down her torso, the latex snapping against her skin. He pulled the thong away and left the plug in place. Ingrid's pale body was exposed, her massive breasts free, their weight pulling at her shoulders, her enhanced hips and ass exaggerated against her slim frame.
They led her to the leather chaise in the corner of the boardroom, sinking down on either side of her. She knelt between them on the cushioned seat, naked, trembling, still holding the half-chewed lump of food in her mouth.
"Swallow," Leo said.
She swallowed. The bread scraped down her throat.
Marek unzipped his trousers and took out his cock, already half-hard. He guided it to her lips.
"Warm it," he said. "I'm going to finish this report."
She took him into her mouth. Leo mirrored the motion, unbuttoning his own trousers and sliding his cock along her cheek, smearing his head across her skin until she turned and took him too. She moved between them in a rhythm of her own making. Their hands threaded through her hair, holding her in place as they typed and wrote and made notes.
"That's it, little cow," Marek muttered, his hips pushing deeper into her throat. "Just stay there. Keep us warm while we work."
Leo came first, spilling across her tongue with a shuddering breath. She swallowed without being told. Marek held her head still as he followed, his fingers tightening in her hair.
They flipped her onto her back on the chaise. Marek spread her legs wide, the plug still inside her, and pulled it out with a wet pop. He sheathed himself instantly, and Leo moved to kneel over her face.
She opened her mouth without being asked. Leo slid into her throat as Marek fucked her, the two of them moving at their own pace, using her body as their shared toy. Her breasts were crushed between them, her nipples rubbing raw against fabric and skin.
"There she is," Marek grunted, his hips slapping against her. "Our stupid little fuck toy. Built for this. Every inch of you made to take our cocks."
Leo pushed deeper, his balls resting on her chin. "Say thank you, baby."
She couldn't speak around the fullness in her throat. Instead she moaned, the vibration of it through her whole body making Marek groan.
They came inside her within moments of each other, emptying themselves into her cunt and throat until she was full to the brim. Marek pulled out and shoved the plug back in with a soft squelch. Leo withdrew from her mouth and wiped his cock across her cheek.
They both stood. Zipped up. Straightened their clothes.
"Get on your hands and knees," Leo said, adjusting his cufflinks. "Crawl to the corner. Face the wall. Wait until the meeting with the auditors is done."
Ingrid obeyed. She crawled across the carpet to the corner of the boardroom, her body aching, her cunt stuffed and dripping, come cooling on her cheek. She pressed her forehead to the cool wall and heard the sound of the boardroom door opening, the murmur of new voices, her husbands' smooth tones as they greeted their afternoon guests.
No one looked at her carcass in the corner. She was just part of the furniture now.