Author's Note
This story doesn't fit neatly into any particular category, so I've placed it in "Fetish". It has elements of BDSM, elements of hotwife/cheating, elements of object insertion fetish, elements of cum fetish... Because of the last two, I've placed it here. If any of that isn't your style, feel free to keep scrolling and have a good read elsewhere. For those who like a longer story with a bit of twisted excitement (but still relatively safe), enjoy.
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Gina had a typical corner office in a typical skyscraper downtown. Her firm, Black Pyramid Corporation International, had a typical ostentatious lobby with a statue of a golden lion, like so many of their competitors did. Her sensible heels clacked across the marble floor, past reception, and she reached into her simple clutch for her BPCI keycard. She nodded at security as she scanned in, and headed to her corner office on the 12th floor. It was the executive floor, and the plaque on her door read "Stable Securities Division", and below that, "Director Regina Huffman". She checked that the hall was clear, pressed her card to the unobtrusive black pad attached to the door, and pushed her way in.
That was where the "typical" ended. BPCI had no Stable Securities Division, and the room she was entering was a staging area, not a workspace. Instead of a large mahogany desk like many of the C-suites down the hall, her office had racks and racks of lingerie, costumes, corsets, and the like. Instead of file cabinets there were mirrors, and instead of boxes of accounting ledgers or research, there were dildos, handcuffs, whips, plugs, and toys of every size and shape. Regina slipped in quickly and shut the door behind her.
She had not been tricked into this job, like some cliche bimbo. Although, the corners of her mouth turned up in the hint of a smile as she realized that her path to this office was just as cliche in some ways. A bored housewife, unsatisfied with her sex life at home, and seeking new adventures... maybe a different cliche, but just as widespread, at least in her hometown. Sex with her husband Todd was fine, but it just didn't quite scratch that itch deep inside her. He was a good man, a good husband, and made plenty of money for them. She loved everything about him... but he was just so damned respectful all the time.
Early in their relationship, when they were still testing each other out, she had tried to explain her needs to him. She might be graceful and proper at a dinner party, but in the bedroom she was an absolute slut. She needed to be dominated, used, degraded- treated like a piece of meat. Bless his heart, Todd had tried. He called her a few names, and he even slapped her once. But he apologized afterward, and he almost cried. She needed someone to wreck her, leave her sore and bruised, with her pussy gaping and satisfied. She needed to be used. Todd was great, but once they married their sex was the same as she imagined every other wife on the cul-de-sac put up with: missionary with the lights off until he grunted and fell asleep. The rest of their marriage was fine, but her itch grew stronger as the first years of their marriage passed.
So when she had been contacted by a headhunter, and the job description included "stress relief of executives and potential clients", she came to the interview with her eyes wide open. At first she wasn't sure if the position was a glorified masseuse, or closer to what she desired. But after the second interview, the CEO (to whom she'd report directly) pulled her in for a one-on-one. The first half of the interview was the important part; he made clear exactly what her duties would be, and made it clear how much discretion was valued. The second half of the interview took only five minutes- she had a very talented tongue.
In the following two years, she earned the trust of the CEO, and now she was valued not only for her dedication and her physical attributes, but also for her perception and her intelligence. It was remarkable how much insider knowledge people would discuss after the "bimbo" satisfied them. And when they dismissed her as not understanding or unimportant, well... sometimes knowledge was power. Particularly in negotiations and in landing new clients.
Today was the latter- a potential new client that had an impressive portion of the market share in their industry. Jack, her CEO, had made it clear that today was the day to bring her A-game if there ever was one. She slipped off her blazer and unbuttoned her top, hanging them both on the hangars at the end of the rack as usual. Her simple beige bra was replaced with black lace, her slacks and boy shorts replaced by a similar thong, and the sensible heels were set aside for some less practical ones that accentuated her legs a little better. As she flipped through the outfits, a post-it caught her eye. This room's privacy and security were closely guarded (to the frustration of the IT staff that felt they deserved access everywhere), but Jack had limited access, which he did not abuse. Most times he allowed her to choose the outfits and the toys, but occasionally the clients had certain proclivities. Apparently today was one of those days. The post-it simply said "mini golf" in Jack's sloppy handwriting, but that was enough. She rolled her eyes and picked a golf skirt that almost covered her ass, and a crop top that wasn't exactly see-through, but certainly wasn't opaque.
As she approached the mirrored vanity to touch up her hair and makeup, she felt the familiar tingle deep in her pussy. Getting here at eight and changing out of her working housewife uniform was all routine, but when she stared at her body in lingerie, and modified her makeup to be just a bit sluttier, that was when she started to get excited for the day. One of the things she loved about the job, besides the obvious, was that every day was different. Some days she spent basically relaxing all day with a good book, interrupted only for a lunchtime blowjob in Jack's office. Some days she was tied up and beaten and humiliated for hours by large groups of men. Some days the client was a woman, usually one who had "always wanted to try this out, but never had the chance." Those days were especially fun. Women have a particular cruelty for each other, and nothing soaked Gina's panties faster than punishment.
She allowed her hands to roam over her body as she took in the image in the mirror before her. She might not be in college anymore, but if anything her body had gotten better with age. Her breasts, non-existent at eighteen, had filled in to nice C-cups that remained surprisingly perky. Her nipples had always been sensitive, and as she traced them lightly through the blouse and bra, an involuntary shiver ran down her spine. She turned to admire her tight ass, kept high and firm with a daily run, spanked herself once, and then spread her legs. She allowed herself to rub her pussy only twice under her thong before turning to the door at the rear of her "office".
There was a private walkway from her room to Jack's office. When he had first told her about it, she was expecting some dark musty hallway out of a detective novel or a board game, but this hallway ran along the outside of the building, and the outward facing wall was sheer glass. The view never failed to take her breath away, and today as she looked out over the city was no different. She took her time walking down the hall, then slipped quietly into Jack's office. She was a perfect servant for all of his needs, and that included business. So as to not interrupt him, she stood in the corner while he typed away. He was about 6'2", and his broad shoulders and blonde hair made him a perfect example of the American Salesman. He glanced up with his piercing blue eyes and simply gave her a little motion with one finger.
She spun as directed, showing all of her assets in their full (although covered) glory. He smirked briefly, then returned to his work for another few minutes while she stood patiently in the corner. As he sent off whatever today's proposal or directive contained, he beckoned her over to his desk and turned his formidable attention to her. Without a word he bent her over and lightly caressed her ass, then gave each cheek a firm quick swat. She gasped in pleasure and surprise- even though she knew it was coming, it still surprised her every time- and he pulled her panties to the side and slipped one finger into her soft pussy.
He fucked her with his index finger for only a few seconds, then withdrew it wet and fed it to her forcefully. They still had not exchanged any words, but his control over her was as evident as ever. Even if the paychecks stopped coming, she doubted she would stop showing up for these sessions daily.
