Crystal the Cleaner

NOTES:

I always welcome comments and suggestions on where to take the story. Please feel free to let me know what you think and any suggestions.

ALL PERSONS ARE AT LEAST EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD.

*****

"Beg me to fuck this cunt. Beg me to take it raw and fuck your slut hole!" he coated his cock with my juices, rubbing the swollen head slowly against my clit, driving me wild.

"Yes! Fuck! Please fuck me, Sir. Fuck my pussy. Fuck my little slut hole. I want it. I need it so bad!" I moaned, pushing back urgently.

How did I get here?' you wonder?

How did I get to be on all fours on the floor of the office of one of the richest men in my town, about to take the biggest cock I'd seen in my life (not that I'd seen many) as the alternative to serving jail time?

So glad you asked...

*****Three weeks ago*****

I knew they were hiring at the local booze and boobs joint on the outskirts of town

I also knew that my curvy 36-24-34 tight body would get me hired in an instant.

But I just wanted something different for myself, for a life where I wasn't sneered at, told 'like mother, like daughter' any more.

So I stuck it out, taking cleaning jobs in the rich white neighbourhoods to help pay for books and my living costs at the local university.

It was hard work, but nothing I wasn't used to. Well, apart from the groping hands of the husbands, and very frequently their starved thin, little repressed wives.

I was getting confused by the feelings this attention gave me.

I was at first quite shocked by how many couples seemed so eager to cheat on their spouse, but that emotion wore off quickly as the months went by. I always made my excuses, slid out of the groping hands with a smile and made sure I did my cleaning rotas with Eileen, the very curvy, matronly woman who owned the company. She loved to oversee work in the big houses personally.

But when I started working at the Millar home, of Millar Trucking & Logistics Corp Ltd, those usual feelings didn't happen.

Instead of the anger and humiliation making me feel abused and hurt, Mr Millar's attentions left me feeling flushed, aching and twitching.

Maybe it was his six foot four, 230 pound bulky muscled frame.

Or maybe it was the fact that he had such an air of command. His face was harsh, unyielding, often looking like a barely leashed, handsome Mark Ruffalo type Hulk as he strode out to his chauffeur driven car each morning.

After a month of his playing grab ass, rubbing against me and holding my slim body to the wall while he shoved his hand down my blouse to tweak my hard nipples as my 'punishment' for 'making him hard as a fuckin' bar of iron', I tried to do the right thing.

I threatened to tell his wife and also quit the job, contract be damned.

But he had just growled "Don't you ever try to leave. I'll fuckin' tie you to my bed if you threaten that again." as he shoved my body against the refrigerator in their large kitchen.

The cook and rest of the hired catering staff moved around us as if we were furniture.

All of them well trained to even look up from their preparations for the brunch his wife, Joan Millar was hosting that afternoon.

Mr Millar had leaned in and sucked on the soft skin high on my neck.

Like a wolf, marking his territory.

A dull bruise quickly rose from his ministrations.

A hickey.

The jackass had given me a hickey.

Mr Millar strolled out of the kitchen snarling over his shoulder, "Yeah. You go right ahead and talk to Joan. Explain that to her."

The next day, my pulse racing, but my heart also breaking at the upcoming loss, I tried to tell Mrs Millar.

She didn't believe me.

Slapped my face so hard - for lying - and then had me searched by the security as I burst into tears, grabbed by backpack, fled down the driveway and tried to leave.

Well.

Fuck me.

Surprise, surprise.

They found a set of her diamond earrings plus five thousand dollars in my backpack and marched me straight back up to the house, into the day lounge where she stood, drunkenly mixing herself another gin and tonic.

No tonic - as usual.

Mrs Millar had refused to deal with the issue, insisting her husband 'handles these sorts of things'.

She'd staggered out, helped upstairs by kind Eileen who urged her to go lie down and 'rest her eyes'.

So it was left to Mr Millar left to decide my fate.

I had been taken into the town in the back of the car of the plodding security guard who marched me straight into the Millar TLC offices.

After a short wait we'd been shown into the large office.

Mr Millar stood, his back to us, looking at busy Main Street below.

Mr Millar had been very understanding, explaining the jewellery must have fallen into my bag when I was cleaning and the money was probably for paying for online orders, shopping and other errands. He was sure Mrs Millar would confirm this when she woke up.

The security guard protested furiously, making Mr Millar say as he clapped him hard on the shoulder, then turned him to lead him out of the office,

"Well, OK then. If Joanie doesn't confirm this, and this young lady IS found to have stolen property and money, then the police will be called, OK?"

Glaring at my rebellious but relieved face as he left, the departing security guard sauntered out, the door swinging even wider as he walked away.

I stood there stunned.

The money and jewels meant nothing to these people.

I know 'cos I'd found those 5 carat diamond earrings covered in dust and lint, on the floor behind the headboard in the guest room.

Now the money, that I was surprised about.

That was equal to five months of pay.

And I had no idea how it got into my backpack.

I took one look at the smirk on Mr Millar's face and my eyes widened.

I slowly understood.

He knew I needed the job.

He also knew I couldn't afford to have a record.

He had me over a barrel.

Jesse Millar walked past me as if I was invisible.

I heard the snick as he pushed the door fully closed.

He strolled past me again, the musky scent of power, spicy cologne and alpha male causing my core to flutter in a mix of fear and sexual tension.

Casually fixing the double cuffs of his shirt -just so - on his wrists, then twisting one of the elegant gold embossed cuff links that clamped heavily to the pristine cotton, Mr Millar propped himself on the edge of his mahogany desk, his legs spread, feet planted firmly on the expensive thick carpet.

The sharp custom made cut of his charcoal suit pants showed off the unashamed power of his long muscled legs and the bulge at his crotch.

He was in his element.

Poised to work out a deal.

A deal where he held all the cards.

"So. We seem to have a situation here," he murmured, biting his bottom lip as his heated eyes roved my body hungrily.

He seemed to see beyond the shapeless grey cleaner's housecoat and thin black leggings Eileen insisted we wear at client homes.

He stared at me with hooded eyes, absently pawing his bulging crotch, then slowly rose to his feet.

"You're a beautiful slut, little Crystal," he said, prowling around to stop behind me. "But we both know you've been naughty, very naughty."

His hand dropped gentle, but heavy on my shoulder.

I tried to flinch away instinctively.

"Ah, ah, ah, no you don't little miss. Just stand still, right there" Mr Millar's fingers slid across my shoulder and up the side of my neck.

His thumb caressed the dull bruise on my neck in small circles.

Possessively.

His fingers swept up my neck, latching onto my nape to drag me back onto his hard chest.

I felt a sharp pinch of my earlobe before the sudden weight of a diamond ear ring swung from my ear. His hand moved across and did the same to my other ear.

Mrs Millar's five carat yellow sapphire and white gold earrings glinted as they swung gently from my ears.

"So beautiful." he murmured absently.

"Yes they are, Sir" my heart pounded as I replied softly.

"Wasn't talking about the earrings, girl." he rumbled.

His hands smoothing up and down my arms, thumbs swirling over my rapid pulse.

I knew I had an attraction towards him wasn't going to stop anytime soon.

But if all I had was today, then I was going to take one opportunity to make lemonade out of the shit lemons I'd been given in life.

I smiled, then placed a shy, nervous look on my face as I faced him square on and looked up at him. My eyelids fluttered as he stood in front of me.

"Oh, Mr Millar, Sir. Please don't tell Mrs Millar." I begged. "I'll do anything. Anything you want."

"Anything?" He palmed the swollen bulge in his suit pants again.

"Yes. Anything." I replied, breathless.

"Well now..." Mr Millar pretended to look thoughtful as he turned, walked away slowly, then turned and came back round to stand in front of me.

"Well, we can lose all this formality, eh?" He chuckled " just call me Jesse. Friends call me Jesse, and I think we're gonna be great little friends aren't we?" He bent slightly, dipping his head until his eyes were level with mine. He fixed me with another searing look.

I swallowed, staring at the intense grey eyes. My heart suddenly picked up, pounding.

"You, little whore, and I are gonna become good, good friends, hmmm?" he murmured.

"Yes, Sir." I breathed shyly.

"Good girl."

He placed his hands on my shoulders and, with a smirk, pressed down. Hard.

I fell to my knees, knowing the score.

Wanting, needing what I knew was to follow.

"Oh Mr Millar, I couldn't possibly..." I said breathlessly, pretending to shy away from what my slick pussy and pounding heart begged me to take..

"Oh yeah, you fuckin' well could." He said harshly, staring straight ahead as he tugged my head firmly towards him.

I reached out slowly and placed my hand on his crotch.

"Yes," he breathed, "Of course you could, my lovely little slut." He groaned, almost to himself.

"Now take it out." Mr Millar finally looked down and growled out the command.

I shivered at the tone, loving how he took charge of things.

I smoothed my hands over the expensive material and slowly unzipped his fly.

His cock pushed out of the opening of his boxers. It was thick, long, easily eight inches.

A very good size, but not too big in girth. It definitely was not a pencil dick.

I suddenly gasped, watching the angry red shaft widen and harden, the veins that snaked over the shaft seeming to pulse under the smooth skin.

OK. I take back what I said about girth.

Mr Millar was a shower AND a grower.

My fingers would circle but would definitely not be able to meet around his veiny shaft.

He grabbed his cock and gave it a few hard strokes, precum slowly dripping from the slit of his swollen tip.

"Open wide, Crystal, tongue out now. Time for you to get to pay for your wrong doing." He drawled.

He grabbed my messy bun and tipped back my head as I opened my mouth.

I stuck out my tongue.

I wanted to be obedient for him so much.

I felt the musky hard tip slide past my lips before he shoved the whole length into my mouth, hitting the back of my throat as my nose and face were buried in the thick hair of his crotch.

"Yeah. Fuck. Take it. Suck my cock, fucking whore." He widened his stance and started pounding, thrusting his cock deep.

I relaxed, quickly acclimating to his forceful thrusts.

My hands were resting on his strong thighs as I looked up at him, tears turning my mascara into a runny mess on my cheeks. I gagged and spluttered but never drew back from each hard thrust, showing how compliant I was, how much I loved what he was doing to me.

"That's right, slut. Eyes on me. I own you now. So keep looking at me, your Master, you no good, thieving piece of shit." The harsh words rolled over me, feeding my need for humiliation and being dominated by this powerful rich man.

His dragged his fingers through his carefully styled black hair, a lock falling over his sweat beaded brow.

"Aw, shit. Feels good. Don't want to nut just yet" Mr Millar pulled out suddenly and dragged his hand over his mouth as he stared down at me. His grey eyes glittered with lustful intent.

"Down, bitch. Down on all fours" he ordered, pushing my head down to the carpet.

"Kiss it." His foot nudged my jaw and I quickly obeyed, kissing the buffed, shiny toe of his black leather Oxfords as I panted and gasped, wanting more.

"Good whore." He rasped. "Now let's see what we're working with."

He walked around my body, flipping the bottom of my dark grey polyester cleaner's housecoat up over my waist.

He grabbed the moist crotch of my black leggings with both hands.

He ripped a wide jagged hole and shoved his face in, rubbing his nose and half his face roughly against my sodden crotch lewdly, breathing deep and groaning.

"You dirty little tease, your tiny pussy is already wet and hungry for cock." he sat back taunting me, then pushed my powder blue lace panties to one side and plunged his index and middle finger into my pulsing pink pussy.

"Oh, Mr Millar. Please!" I moaned as his fingers jammed and rocked into the well of my slurping pussy.

"You protected, slut?" He asked.

"What?" I stammered

"You on the pill? Anything?" he turned his wrist, roughly rubbing the slick wetness from my pussy over my asshole with his thumb before shoving it in to my tight puckered hole.

"Awwww! Uh, uh No, Mr Millar, Sir. I haven't had a boyfriend since high school and haven't been able to afford to get - aaaaahh, that's soooooo good..." I stuttered, my mind shutting down as hot desire washed over me as his rough fingers stroked the thin membrane between my pussy and anus channel.

"Right answer, little Crystal."

He grunted once, then growled "Gonna take you raw. Fill this slutty cunt with my cum. Breed your pussy. Teach you a fucking lesson, you little bitch" Mr Millar kicked my legs wider and fell to his knees between them.

I heard the sigh of material being shoved down his thighs then the sharp slap to my inner thighs and a barked order "Wider!"

I spread, dutiful and eager and felt the rubbing of his cock against my pussy through the hole in my leggings.

"Beg me to fuck this cunt. Beg me to fuck you raw!" he coated his cock with my juices, rubbing it slowly against my clit, driving me wild.

"Yes! Fuck! Please fuck me, Mr Millar. Fuck my slutty hole. I want it. I want it so much!" I moaned, pushing back, rocking against him urgently.

He coaxed the fat head of his cock into the tight opening of my moist pussy, then grabbed my hips, slamming deep into me with one harsh push, making me shriek with the sudden stretch and sensation.

"Aaaaaah!"

"Yeah. Take it. Take it all, you whore, you fucking cunt. You dirty little slut!" Mr Millar grunted out, slamming hard.

The room echoed with his grunts of pleasure as my cries quickly turned into moans as I sighed with bliss, rocking underneath him as his punishing thrusts slammed into my pussy.

"Mounted and takin' you like the piss poor fuckin' bitch you are." he crooned. "Owning this whore cunt. Gonna fill it up. Stretch you out. Gonna use you like a two dollar whore." His words surrounded me, making my pussy tighten and pulse at his lewd comments.

He groaned harshly, his words and thighs both slamming hard against me, battering down any resistance to his dominant control.

Mr Millar's throbbing shaft shuttling deeper, stroking in and out as he leant over, panting out his coarse words, pouring his dirty filth into my ears.

"I've wanted you like this for weeks. Not gonna lie." He gritted out fiercely. "Wanted to see your pussy and asshole gaped open from my dick, my hands. Gonna take you in front of Joan, show her how a real woman gets fucked. You'd like that, eh slut?"

He growled, seeming to get even harder at the thought of debasing and humiliating me in front of his high strung wife.

"Please! Oh, Please, Mr Millar!" I moaned, not sure whether I was begging him to carry out his threats or not, but desperate for the something to help me with the rising heat in my throbbing pussy, my trembling thighs.

The office muffled the low harsh grunts each time he plowed my tight hole, then muttered how much he loved how my young untried pussy fucked so well.

Reaching around my waist he stroked, circling and flicking my swollen clit, then snarling "Don't you dare cum, fuckin' slut! Not until I tell ya!"

"Boss, you- Oh, shit! Sorry-"

"The fucks going on here, boy?"

The rumble of deeply amused voices had my head snapping up to look at the doorway.

Two barrel chested truckers stood at the opening, the bulge in their worn jeans growing significantly as they stared.

"Bit busy breeding my new fuck toy, guys." With no break in rhythm, Mr Millar continued to plow into me, now circling and grinding his hips as they slapped hard against my thighs.

"But you're welcome to stay awhile and watch. Grab a beer; take a load off." he grunted.

The men, both mid to late forties, wiped the drool from their mouths, or stroked the long hair of their well kept, trimmed beards that were liberally sprinkled with grey.

I felt my whole body flush and tremble and I moaned with the combination of lust and humiliation. But my pussy clenched and flooded its juices even more as I heard Mr Millar's words.

"Sure thing, son!" The one that was the first speaker chuckled and nudged his fellow trucker towards the freestanding cooler in the corner of the office.

"How's she going? She ride good?" Chatty Trucker no 1 jerked his chin at me as he sat in one of the office chairs to the side of us, spread his legs, unzipped quickly and began to shuttle his hand on his stiff and meaty flushed cock.

"Tight, wet and willin'. Just how I like 'em." Mr Millar slapped a heavy hand on my ass cheek and jiggled the pert globe salaciously as he grunted with effort.

Trucker number 2 quickly grabbed two beer cans, tossed one towards his chatty friend and opened the other as he stepped up in front of me. He drained the can and tossed it towards a trash can.

"How old?" His voice was low, almost a growl as he canted his head to the side in enquiry.

"Seventeen? eighteen? Who the fuck cares." Mr Millar grunted. "This is some ripe grade A pussy right here" he grunted out.

"How old." The trucker crouched and tipped my head up with a gentle hand, his deep blue eyes glittering with barely leashed hunger.

My chin rocked back and forth across his calloused palm from the motion caused by the hard thrusts as Mr Millar pounded my throbbing pussy.

"I'm, l'm n-n-nineteen, Sir." I stuttered, feeling the rising waves of pleasure caused by his appreciative intense stare.

"Thank fuck." His growled mutter was followed by the slam of his knees to the carpet.

He pressed soft gentle lips against mine and then whispered in my ear, "We're up next. And we don't do the gentle shit, honey girl."

He drew back and held his palm under my chin as I shuddered in anticipation.

"Spit." He squeezed my chin gently and I complied, the saliva glistening in his palm.

He unzipped his fly, reaching in to grab the base and tig out his throbbing eight inch cock.

Stroking from base to tip, he jerked his chin at Mr Millar lazily.

"You nearly done? We're gonna want us a little taste, boss man."

Mr Millar shifted, slowing his thrusts to slow and deep, powerful thrusts, each one raking over my G-spot with efficient intent.

"Be my guest, you motherfucker," he huffed "Just as soon as I get my nut."

He grunted suddenly then muttered harshly "Spread those legs wider, whore. Time to pump you full of cum. Gonna breed this tight pussy!"

"You heard the boss!" Chatty trucker chuckled, straining from where he sat, breathless as he fisted his cock, the pace rapid and harsh.