Coworker Complications Pt 07

Monday morning continues on after the scene with Big Jake and his friend with Megan in the shower...

-

A few hours after the tense morning, Megan sat in Kevin's office at Home Away From Home. The clock ticked past 9 a.m. She perched on a stiff chair in her slutty nurse uniform--a tight, low-cut white dress, hem barely grazing her thighs, no panties underneath as per Kevin's standing orders. Her legs were spread wide, knees parted just enough to bare her pussy, the cool air brushing her exposed skin. Kevin sat behind his desk, scribbling on a clipboard, his eyes flicking up now and then to steal glances at her display. She waited, restless, unsure who or what they were waiting for, her gaze drifting over the cluttered shelves--medical charts, a dusty fern, a framed photo of Kevin with some grinning old geezers.

The silence stretched, Kevin's glances growing hungrier. He set the clipboard down, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, I guess Carson's running late. Might as well crawl over here and suck my cock while we wait."

Megan perked up, her mind flashing to Ryan's plea this morning--keep it to Carson and friends, ditch the rest. Kevin wheeled his chair around the desk, unzipping his khakis and tugging out his dick--half-hard, thick, waiting for her. She hesitated, thoughts swirling, then spoke softly, careful. "Is it, uh, okay if we hold off on that stuff for a bit?"

Kevin's brow furrowed, confusion morphing into aggravation. "What do you mean, why?"

She fidgeted, fingers twisting the hem of her dress. "Well, um, my fiancé--he's not really comfortable with, you know, all this stuff anymore. He just wants to keep it between a few people."

He leaned back, crossing his arms. "Oh, really?" His tone dripped with mockery, sharp and questioning.

Megan, missing the edge, nodded earnestly. "Yeah, um, he's against how many people are involved now, especially at work. So I think it's best if we toned it down some."

Kevin's smirk widened, predatory. "I see, I see. That's fine. Well, do you have any checks on you?"

She blinked, thrown. "Checks? What do you mean?"

"You know," he said, slow and deliberate, "your checkbook."

She shook her head. "No, I don't. Ryan carries that stuff."

He chuckled, leaning forward. "Well, if you can have him write a $50,000 check to cover your breach-of-contract penalty, then I guess you'd be free to 'tone it down'--" He flashed air quotes, mocking her words. "--for a month. Until you'd have to pay another fifty grand. Think he could swing by today with it?"

Panic flared in her chest, memories of the contract rushing back--the NDA, the penalties, forfeiting her bonuses. "Oh!" she stammered, flustered. "Um, no, I don't think that's possible. We're in the middle of buying a condo--that would cause some trouble."

Kevin shrugged, unbothered. "Well, the contract's the contract. Maybe Carson can explain it better when he gets here."

Dread sank into her gut, heavy and cold. She shifted, legs closing instinctively as her mind raced. Oh shit, shit, shit. I promised Ry I'd stop playing with guys at work. I can't go behind his back, but he'd kill me if I had to come up with fifty grand. Kevin's voice cut through her spiral. "Hey, keep 'em spread," he barked, gesturing at her thighs.

She flinched, then dutifully parted her legs again, her bare pussy on display once more. The door handle jiggled, and both their heads snapped toward it. Kevin stuffed his cock back into his pants, muttering, "One sec," and scooted his chair awkwardly to the door, unlocking it with a grunt.

Carson strode in, papers tucked under his arm, his suit crisp and dark. He nodded at Kevin, then turned to Megan, eyes raking over her outfit--the plunging neckline, the hiked-up skirt, her spread legs. He took a seat against the wall beside Kevin's desk, facing them both. "Good morning, you two."

Kevin grinned. "Speak of the devil."

Carson's lips quirked. "And I shall appear."

Kevin leaned back, tone mockingly bright--too subtle for Megan to catch. "We were just talking about the contract. Turns out Ryan wants to reduce the group size of the men involved with their 'antics.' Her workplace seems to be on the chopping block, so we're going over the penalties."

Carson raised an eyebrow, feigning concern. "Oh dear. Well, good thing I'm her lawyer. Let's take a look."

Megan rehashed her plea, voice small. "Ryan's not comfortable with so many people anymore. He just wants it to be us, you, and a few friends. I think we should tone it down here."

Carson nodded, setting the papers on the desk. "Well, I'm here to go over some contract changes, so let's see if we can come to a deal with your employer." He spread the documents out, tapping them. "Here are some updates we've agreed on. It'll be a better fit--details some limitations to protect you from the guys here, what they're allowed to do with you, in exchange for some personal changes you'll make in private. Sound good?"

Her worry softened, a flicker of hope breaking through her confusion. "Yes, yes, that sounds good. And what about the cash penalties?"

Carson smiled, smooth as silk. "Since you're getting your own place, we can adjust that process so you're not strapped for cash while we sort this out. Sign here--I'll walk you through it tonight." He winked at Kevin, a private signal she missed.

Megan scribbled her name, relief easing her shoulders. Carson gestured toward the door. "Step outside for a sec. I need to talk to Kevin."

She nodded, slipping out and shutting the door behind her. She paced the hall, skirt swishing, the weight of the morning pressing down.

Five minutes later, Carson emerged, closing the door with a soft click. He faced her, voice low. "Alright, here's the deal. I get where you're coming from, but the original contract penalties still apply until you hand over legal docs on your residence. So unless you can cough up fifty grand, you've gotta play ball."

Her stomach dropped. "But... what? Ryan wants to keep this between us, you, and your friends. I'd have to hide this from him--I can't do that."

Carson sighed, feigning sympathy. "I'm sorry, babe, but a deal's a deal. It's nothing you haven't done already. Ryan gets off like crazy to it--he's just jealous right now. That'll pass when he's horny again. Think of Kevin as a friend of mine, you know?"

She chewed her lip, torn. It eased the sting a little--Kevin as Carson's friend--but Ryan's hurt face loomed. "I just... I don't want to let Ryan down. I..."

He cut in, firm. "I get it. You've gotta pick the lesser of two evils--something us lawyers do a hundred times a day. So choose: burden Ryan with fifty grand yanked from your condo, or keep doing what you've been doing, which still gets his dick hard at the end of the day."

She pouted, picturing their beautiful condo slipping away. Ryan's boner that morning flashed too--angry, but hard. "I guess... I guess I'll try to make it work."

Carson grinned. "Great, smart girl. Now, Kevin's waiting in there--get to work. I'll see you tonight." He leaned in, whispering, "And I promise I won't say a peep to Ryan."

She forced a half-smile. "Oh, okay. I guess I'll see you tonight."

He paused, digging into a paper bag. "Oh, almost forgot." He pulled out a pink silicone butt plug--sizable, 2.5 inches wide at its thickest, but instead of a neat cone, it tapered to 1.5 inches, then stretched into an 8-inch snakelike shaft, wobbling as he held it up. "Part of the arrangement. Wear this."

Her eyes widened. "Oh my, what is that?"

"It's a fun little toy," he said, smirking. "Brightens your day and trains your ass, you know, for Ryan. Stays in your butt. Here--suck on it to wet it, then bend over."

He lifted it to her mouth. She hesitated, then parted her lips, letting the tip slide in. He fed it deeper, the shaft snaking over her tongue until she gagged softly. He pulled it out, slick with spit. "Good girl."

She turned coyly, lifting her skirt, arching her back to jut out her ass. Carson parted her cheeks, revealing a semi-gaping, irritated hole--yellowish cum trickling out. He froze, fuming. "What the fuck? Who fucked you in the ass?"

She glanced back, sheepish. "Oh, the maintenance man at our apartment. He comes over, uses the shower, and stuck it back there. He did it this morning too."

Carson's anger shifted to relief--Kevin hadn't crossed him--then clicked to Ryan's outburst. Jake must've pushed him over the edge. Disappointment hit next; she wouldn't be losing both virginities tonight. "And your pussy?" he asked, calm now.

"What about it?"

"Did anything end up in it?" He sighed at her blank look, adding, "Did a cock end up in it?"

"No, not yet," she said. "But Ryan just started me on birth control, so I don't know what he's got planned."

Relief washed over him, amusement sparking. "Alright, well, maybe this'll be easier than I thought." He pressed the plug's tip to her hole. It slid in smooth, cum lubing the way. She grimaced as the fat bulb stretched her ring, yelping when it popped inside with a firm push. He spanked her playfully, patting the plug. "Let me give you a kiss before your mouth gets filled with Kevin's cum."

He pulled her close, locking lips in a deep, possessive kiss. She struggled to enjoy it, then he broke off. "Alright, try to have some fun in there. Don't worry about Ryan--you know he loves it."

She frowned, adjusting to the fullness, eyes downcast. Carson turned, tossing over his shoulder, "See you tonight," as she reached for the door. She stepped into Kevin's office, where he sat grinning, dick out again. He stopped her mid-step. "Crawl."

Her frown lingered, but she sank to her knees, crawling toward him across the worn carpet.

-

Mid-morning, Ryan sat at his desk, puzzled by an odd yearning for the workday to drag on forever, until the realization pierced through; his subconscious, in a desperate act of self-preservation, had buried tonight's events with Carson. He winced and turned his attention back to the papers from the Seven57 Condo Board's acceptance package. He flipped to the reference section--Letter from Previous Residence Required. Just a phone call away, it should go smoothly, then the escape from Big Jake will be locked in. He grabbed his phone and dialed Jonah, the apartment owner and manager--an old, raspy New York Jew with a knack for raising rents a bit too often.

The line crackled before Jonah's gravelly voice rasped through. "Yeah, who's this?"

"Jonah, it's Ryan--from 4B," he said, keeping his tone low, glancing around to ensure no one caught him slacking.

"Huh?" Jonah barked, his hearing shot as ever.

Ryan leaned closer to the receiver, voice firm but hushed. "It's Ryan. From 4B."

"Whaddya say?"

"Ryan!" he repeated, a touch louder, then winced, scanning the office again. "From apartment 4B."

"Oh, Ryan! Yeah, yeah, whaddya want, kid?"

"I'm buying a condo nearby," Ryan said, steadying his patience. "I need a recommendation letter from you for the board."

"Huh?"

"A recommendation letter," he said, slower, louder, but still muted enough not to draw Ken's eagle eye. "For the condo board."

"Oh, a recommendation letter!" Jonah rasped, finally clicking. "Oh dear, well, I'll be sorry to see you two go."

Ryan forced a smile into his voice. "Yessir, the move'll be bittersweet. Can I count on you for the letter?"

Jonah wheezed a laugh. "Well, you always were on time with your payments--that's good, kid. But I'll leave it in Jake's hands. He knows more about how you keep up the place than me. If he gives the thumbs-up, I'll write it. You can pick it up... hmm, let's see, I got a doctor's appointment tomorrow, so Wednesday?"

Ryan's stomach plummeted, a cold sweat prickling his neck. Big Jake--his escape now hinged on the very man he was fleeing. Megan had likely told Jake to stay away after this morning's blowout. He pictured Jake's smug grin, a thumbs-down sealing their fate. He had to get to him first. "Wednesday's great," he managed, voice tight. "Thank you, Mr. Goldberg."

"Eh, don't mention it," Jonah grunted, and the line clicked dead.

Ryan set the phone down, staring blankly at the forms, when the door swung open. Ken--his boss, all sharp suit and sharper grin--strode in, a glass of champagne glinting in his hand. "Ryan, my boy, get up! You're coming with me."

Ryan blinked, standing as Ken clapped his shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Special occasion," Ken said, eyes gleaming. "The senior partners and board members are here--rare visit to the main floor. They're celebrating the big payout from the Home Away From Home case. You're the man of the hour."

Ryan's gut twisted, but he followed Ken down the hall, past cubicles and glass-walled offices, into the sprawling boardroom. The air buzzed with wealth--fifteen or so old men in razor-sharp suits, Rolexes and Pateks flashing on wrists worth more than Ryan's yearly salary. Laughter rolled thick, champagne flutes clinking. On a table sat a bottle Ryan recognized from Ken's office stash--Krug Clos d'Ambonnay 2004, reserved for the firm's biggest wins. He'd once overheard Ken brag it cost north of five grand a pop. Ken grabbed it, pouring Ryan a glass, the golden liquid fizzing as it hit crystal.

"Gentlemen," Ken boomed, raising his flute, "meet Ryan--the other linchpin of our victory!"

The crowd parted, turning to face him, smiles wide but eyes predatory. At the room's far end stood Carson, flanked by the suits, his presence no surprise. But behind him, the massive meeting room TV glowed, frozen on a frame that punched Ryan in the chest--Megan, eyes bulging red, Tyrone's hands gripping her head, his entire cock buried in her throat. Shame burned up his neck, his face flushing as he realized these titans of law had casually watched it, dissecting his fiancée's degradation like a quarterly report.

The men surged forward, hands clapping his back, voices overlapping. "Hell of a sacrifice, kid!" one said, earnest but edged with a chuckle. "Thanks for sealing the deal!" another added, winking. Their praise felt like barbs, sincere yet mocking.

Ken grinned, patting Ryan's shoulder. "They requested I show the evidence that clinched the win. Quite a clip--I think it's the first time this boardroom's played something amounting to hardcore porn."

Ryan forced a laugh, scanning the faces--knowing grins, eyes glinting with shared amusement. Then Paul Melvin stepped forward, the room quieting. The first name in Melvin Marvin Maxwell, son of the firm's founder, a legal titan whose name echoed across NYC and beyond. His suit was bespoke, his watch a vintage Audemars worth a small fortune. He extended a hand, grip firm as steel.

"You've got talent, kid," Paul said, voice low and commanding, honed by decades of courtroom conquests. "I'm damn glad you're with us. These days, the new hires--Harvard, Yale, doesn't matter--they come out soft, lacking the grit we built this empire on. But pulling a move like that?" He nodded toward the TV, a wry smile tugging his lips. "That's the kind of ruthless ingenuity we need to keep this firm carving through the legal world long after us old bastards are gone."

Ryan swallowed, forcing a smile. "Thank you, sir."

Paul's grin sharpened, playful but piercing. "But--here's the thing--I'm not sure who's got more talent, you or that girl of yours. Never seen anything like it."

Ryan's blush deepened, eyes dropping to the floor. Paul pressed on, undeterred. "You've gotta come to a game. Let's see..." He flicked a finger toward his secretary, perched at a side table, poring over his schedule. She didn't flinch, reading his intent. "Thursday next week," she said crisply.

"Thursday next week," Paul echoed, clapping Ryan's arm. "Clear your afternoon. We've got an executive suite at Madison Square Garden--the Board, me, you, Carson. Bring that sexy, talented lady of yours. Without her, my net worth wouldn't have jumped another eight figures."

The room erupted in laughter, glasses raised. Ryan nodded, trapped, the champagne bitter on his tongue as the celebration swallowed him whole.

-

Hours later, the workday bled into dusk. Ryan stood in the elevator, briefcase heavy in his hand, the hum of descent filling the silence. Carson stepped in beside him, cool and composed, testing the waters after the boardroom spectacle. He kept it light, gauging Ryan's edge. "Damn, Ryan, a firm handshake from the big man himself. Paul didn't even introduce himself to me. You might be the only guy worth less than a hundred million he's ever bothered with."

Ryan had braced for a jab, the quiet ride a minefield. The compliment caught him off guard, easing the knot in his chest. He shifted his weight, muttering, "Uh, thanks."

Carson clocked his calm, then pounced back into dominance, voice smooth but firm. "Well, anyway--have Megan wear one of her new dresses tonight. We'll be over around eight. I'll bring the champagne."

The doors slid open, and Carson strode out, leaving Ryan to process the shift. He exited the building and begun his small 15 minute walk home trying not to picture Megan losing her virginity to someone other than him.

He approached the intersection corner, adjacent to his apartment. Jogging across the street toward their apartment, he spoted Megan ahead, her nurse's jacket draped over that humiliating uniform, hiding the skimpy dress beneath. She walked toward the front door, head down. "Megs!" he called, picking up pace.

She turned, offering a half-smile, muted and strained. He caught up, breathless, and grinned. "Hey--how was your day?"

"Uh, it was good, I guess," she said, voice flat.

He sensed the weight, but didn't push. "Were you able to tone it down?"

She cleared her throat, a sticky catch lingering from sticky cum loads she recently swallowed. "Uh, yes, I... did what you asked." Her smile tightened, forced.

Relief flooded him, blind to her lie. He beamed, leaning in to plant a warm kiss on her lips. Her heart sank. His boners had been her proof he loved this game--now his wide smile and tender kiss convinced he was serious about pulling it all back. Guilt gnawed as she replayed her shift--crawling naked across Kevin's office, sucking off five men through her shift, their cum thick in her throat. All of it to dodge revealing the contract or that $50,000 penalty she couldn't ask Ryan to pay.

They stepped into the elevator together, the doors sealing them in. Ryan's tone dipped, hesitant. "The guys'll be over at eight. I, uh, was hoping you could wear one of those new dresses. And, uh... don't forget, you know, your birth control."

Her real smile partially returned. It was all confusing to her, these change of events, but if Ryan was still eager about Carson, then her forced workday sins could stay buried with a little less guilt. Tonight, she'd put on an extra show with the approved guy friends to make up for the acts she was forced to do during her shift. "Okay," she said, voice lifting, "I'll make it special."

The elevator dinged, and they stepped out, her step lighter, his relief palpable--for now.

-

Ryan paced the apartment's living room, the hardwood cool under his bare feet, as Megan primped in her bedroom. The clock ticked toward 8 p.m., each second a hammer strike against his nerves. He hoped tonight would mirror the last time Carson and his crew came over--God, how insane was that? Last time, she'd been paraded around like a trophy, photographed, exposed, humiliated, ending up on her knees, rubbing cum into her clit while deepthroating three douchebags like some $5 whore. And here he was, hoping for that--a twisted lifeline to cling to. But now, with birth control in play and her eagerly taking monstrous cocks in her ass "for him," he couldn't dodge the truth. His perfect fiancée was about to lose her virginity--the prize he'd waited a decade for--to Carson. The thought slammed into him, a gut punch, as he veered toward the kitchen counter to check her birth control pack.