Lois Goes Deeper

#2

(Sequel to Lois Learns Submission)

Bent over the rail in the dimly-lit room with the umpteenth cock plunging the depths of my ass, I hang on with all my might while reeling at the reality in which I now live.

Indeed...Despite last night's vicious gang rape, I was still required to get to the office by noon and complete my normal work load. This task made more difficult by the fact that Calvin called at around two and told me to meet a man in the alley behind the building. He told me that the meeting wouldn't take long and to call him back and let him know how it went.

Of course, my old self would have gotten pissy about the whole thing—fuck you or what have you, but now it was yes sir, right away sir and then I went and did as I was told.

The alley was dark even in broad day light I kept walking down it and calling out until finally this guy kinda walked out from behind a dumpster and impatiently waved me over.

"Don't come down the alley announcing yourself you stupid slave bitch," that was the only introduction I got as he grabbed me and led me to this rail like thing. "Bend over it."

I did as I was told and then my skirt went up my panties down and seconds later my ass was split yet again with a hard cock. Fortunately this guy wasn't anything like Big E, after last night you could've stuck a Buick up my ass. Anyway, this little guy huffed and puffed and quickly blew his load. When he was finished he pulled up his pants and lit a cigarette.

"Tell your master that the E man was right. It's tight and we can use it. You need to be there by eleven. Got it bitch?"

I nodded my head and started to get up, but he pressed his palm into the back of my neck forcing me back into the submissive position.

"Hold still slave bitch," he sneered in my ear.

As he spoke I felt a rubbery object being forced into my ass. It was so big that my aching sphincter fought long and hard against it until he finally got the better and rammed it home.

"This stays put until tonight, understand bitch"

I nodded my head again.

"You got a gold mine in that ass honey. If I had more time I take your pussy, too, oh well, maybe later."

He smacked my ass and shoved me back down the alley towards the office.

The rest of the day found me sitting at my desk with that corpulent butt plug firmly ensconced in my quivering anus, trying to concentrate on work, leaking from my pussy, always on the verge of the next orgasm.

This after all of those years of straight-laced, no-holds barred, corporate-speak, hint-of-sex-but-no-peek work days, dissolving into nights of hard bargaining in silk blouses one button undone, coyly preening from behind nursed glasses of expensive red wines.

The days had changed forever and the clenching in my ass was telling me that the nights were going in a different direction as well.

And I was becoming more emotional by the moment. I cried more in the last 24 hours than I had in the past twenty four years. I could hardly keep my make-up straight.

Too, nearly every thought entering my mind had something to do with sex. My nipples, for example, they cried out against the bra that constrained them and my bruised breasts. After an hour of torture, I took the bra off. I'd rather endure the humiliation of the stares than deal with the constraining fabric between those turgid nipples and the sheer silk of my gossamer blouse. Trouble was: The feeling of silk on flesh helped push me over the edge and over the edge and over the edge.

Imagine. Three orgasms and I only had to touch myself once—a frenetic frigging administered while my boss, Mr. Thompson, went on break. After that, I was going off like a firecracker.

In between orgasms, I started thinking that there was reason for the dildo. I was getting numb down there and my sphincter seemed to be tightening rather than loosening up.

By the time I left the office I couldn't feel the thing in my ass. I was totally numb down there. In a panic I called Calvin.

"Look you little slave bitch, there's a reason you can't feel the inside of your ass and if I had wanted you to know I would have fucking told you. Besides we wouldn't waste you, you're too valuable of an asset, and, well, I'm fond of you."

Fond of me? I was speechless.

Later that night, Calvin took me to the strip club where I danced in a private room for a bunch of really old guys from a nursing home. Those old fuckers would pinch me and feel me up and then whack off on my feet or breasts. It was disgusting, but at least I wasn't getting fucked by huge cocks.

That came later when Calvin took me to this office park on the edge of town. We went inside to a room with a examination table in the middle of it.

"Ms. Greer meet Dr. Sam," Calvin introduced me to this swarthy Arab-looking dude in a white coat.

He shook my hand and then told me to strip and get on the table.

The table was like the ones in the gynecologist office—a thin sheet of white paper over cold steel, and the stirrups—as I found myself being fixed into place Calvin was kidding with the doctor.

"I've got to get one of these in my basement."

I didn't pay much attention to his reply as my attention was focused on the device the doctor was about to shove up my ass. It looked like one of those colonoscopy things.

"All right now miss, the way this thing works, well, let's just say that I'm going to manually vacate your bowels on account of the fact that when we are done here tonight it will probably be at least forty-eight hours before you're going to be able to shit again.

The drug on the, ah, um, butt plug is an experimental paste made of horse steroid and a local anesthetic. The steroid strengthens the, ah, sphincter to, ah, well, increase the stimulation for your, ah, partners, and the anesthetic, ah, numbs you to the intrusion. The deadening is local which is to say that other areas—the wall between your anus and your vagina for example—will feel everything."

As he spoke the Dr. grabbed the base of the butt plug and gave it a hard yank. I could feel that it left me, but the numbness remained. Next came the long vacuum like tube. I could sort of feel it going in.

"Just relax Miss Greer. This is nothing compared for what awaits you. These drugs will wear off by noon tomorrow so I'm going to give you some pain relievers as the area will be sore for quite some time."

"The area will be sore?"

"Well, yes, of course, the experiment involves you being fucked in the ass continuously for about three hours. Didn't Mr. Green tell you?"

"Of course, she knows," Cal laughed and dabbed a finger in my unprotected quim. "Why do you think the whore is so wet?"

I was wet. And it was happening to me all the time now. My pussy just leaks and leaks and leaks and its got nothing to do with men coming in it. Very few even use it—they usually take my mouth or my ass.

Anyway, as soon as the "vacating of the bowels" was complete, Calvin walked me into the next room where six naked men were sitting, each massaging their hardening cocks all of which were huge.

"For the sake of brevity, I'm not going to introduce anyone," Calvin smiled at the guys as he spoke, then he turned and started affixing a series of cuffs and ropes to my arms and legs. When he was done he pressed a button and my body lifted off the floor in a kinda sling. The sling hung from the ceiling, leaving me suspended face tilted forward, elbows lashed to my knees. My gaping ass was left as an inviting target about waist high.

Hanging there I wasn't really uncomfortable, just a little embarrassed and curious, too, as to what would happen next.

One by one they took me and as each would force their cock into my steroid-tightened sphincter they would grunt and curse at the pleasure.

"Shit bitch that is tight!"

None was in me for very long. In fact, my ass was so tight that I was able to get every man in the room off in less than ninety minutes. As for me I was simply mewling with pleasure. Calvin finally gagged me with someone's underwear.

"You're not supposed to like it so much you slut," he whispered in my ear and then gave my ass a good hard crack.

Each man had me one more time and, even though it took longer for the sloppy seconds, each would confess that it was as tight as it had been the first time around.

When Calvin showed me the video later, I could not believe the amount of cum that was running down my ass crack across my pussy and then down my inner thighs to the floor below. I was standing in an ever widening pool of cum and I was loving it, squirming my ass to meet each thrust, pinching them off in a way that was electric for the both of us.

At a little after 2am the last guy shot his last load and then without so much as a thank you they all left. Gathering my things I could find neither my bra nor my panties. Compounding my plight was the fact that I took so long in looking for them that Calvin just up and left me.

"See you at home" read the note on the door leading out to the street.

This was a dicey part of town and I had no money for cab fare. My purse was in Calvin's car. I had to hitch hike which led to me giving a blow job to some drunk Mexican who kicked me out as soon as he shot his wad. My next ride was with a couple of drugged-up college kids. I sucked the one off, but the driver wanted a fuck so I told him we could do it as soon as we got to the house.

For the second night in a row, I got ass-fucked in the drive way of Calvin's place.

Fortunately, no one inside the house saw me get banged this time so at least I avoided that embarrassment. Or maybe I was disappointed that no one watched.

Anyway, the door was locked so I had to knock, Cal answered with my collar in hand.

"Shower and then put this on and come to bed."

Standing in the shower I let the warm jets play over my tingling skin, calming me a little.

But how could I be calm when my master had told me that he was going to join me in bed. Finally, one-on-one intimacy.

I don't know if you could really call it intimacy. Especially when I was literally ripped from the bathroom tossed on the bed and then roughly entered. No foreplay, no lubricant, just thirteen inches of rock hard cock shoved as far up inside me as he could go.

That's when I felt it. A searing pain that dissolved into a white flash. The scream trying to escape my throat could not. Then another thrust. Now I was coming and screaming and flailing my arms while Calvin smacked my heaving breasts and just kept pounding into me.

I must have passed out from the pleasure/pain because when I came to Calvin was gone and I was bound spread-eagle on the bed where I would remain until morning when each of my house mates came in and took their pleasure. Jeff, the last one to violate me, untied me just in time for me to get dressed and go to work.

When I got to work I had a message to call Calvin. I immediately called him and just that act alone got my juices going again.

"Good morning pet. I hope you had a pleasant night's sleep. By the way, I was really put off by your slutty behavior last night. Those ass-fuckings were experimental in nature. You had no right to use them for your own selfish pleasure. You'll be punished for that along with some other things. Oh, and I made you and appointment with a gynecologist we know. I think I might have bruised that g-spot way up inside you last night and before I fuck you again I want to have you looked at.

I gleaned two things from that phone call: pleasure in the knowledge that Calvin might fuck me again and fear over what punishment might await me.

It wasn't long before I began to get a sense of what the punishment piece might be. At around noon Mr. Thompson circulated a memo outlining a meeting that was to be held after work that night. The memo mentioned morale and discipline, but was a bit vague as to details. When I saw the distribution list, however, I quickly realized that something was amiss.

The only people who received the memo were ones with sketchy backgrounds, ones with whom I'd had one sort of a tiff or another.

And for the rest of the day I could not concentrate on work. I was worried and excited and I could hardly wait to get it over with whatever it was.

Imagine my horror then when Mr. Thompson started the meeting by going off on a spiel about inappropriate behavior at work.

My mind was reeling as I began to realize what was happening. But it wasn't until he said that he had an example of the type of thing he was talking about that I knew I was in for a bad night. The lights were dimmed, the video cued and then came the footage of me masturbating at my desk. The camera angle showed my knees clenching either side of the file drawer, my skirt bunched at the waist, and both my hands massaging my sex. The clip wasn't more than four minutes long, but it was four of the most embarrassing minutes of my life.

I was thoroughly humiliated. In front of co-workers, ones Calvin had obviously selected, the lesbians and the cock whores and the dick-on-the dogs, I tallied twelve of them. And I knew they were a close-knit group. Oh god, all I could think was I hope he doesn't fire me.

When the video was done and the lights came back on Thompson asked me to join him in the front of the room. He asked me what I had to say for myself and as I hemmed and hawed he put his hand out for silence.

"Listen Lois, I should fire you, but I think it might be better if I just punished you to make an example for the others."

"W,wh, what punishment."

"Corporal punishment. I want you to sign a release permitting me to touch you in a familiar way. Every one in the room has agreed to secrecy, signed an affidavit stating that they have never witnessed what they are about to witness, and now its up to you. Do you want to lose your job or will you submit to the punishment?"

I stood there for a second, hot tears streaking my face, knowing that I was about to submit, and hating myself as I knew that I would probably love it.

Calvin came forward with the documents for me to sign and as I took the pen from him I could see that sick little smile on his face.

Before I knew it there I was, ass bent over the rail, praying to god that none of that cum from last night would leak out, and, oh, so embarrassed to hear the startled gasps at the mesh-mash of hickies and bruises on my ass and thighs.

The first lash stung like fucking hell. I cried out and started stamping my feet which were the only things not restrained. My efforts flipped me further over the rail, leaving my feet flailing. The effect of which brought a chorus of laughs which were the least of my worries when the next blow fell exactly on the same spot as the first...

The sting of that blow seared me somewhere deep inside my womb. Then when the third one landed on the exact same spot the volcano that erupted within me is something I barely recall.

". . .Finally that consultant guy had to come over and tell him to spread the blows out—it was the freakiest thing I ever saw, she had cum coming out of her ass, her pussy, and, I swear, as god as my witness, that chick came at least seven times. Oh, and get this, when Thompson was done whipping her ass he made her get on her knees and suck him off, and you know Thompson, the guy couldn't stand to take his britches off in front off us, he had her do it through his zipper—just jammed her face in there and kept looking at the ceiling until he backed off and blew a load in her face—totally gross. . ."

My best recollection came from the account Eileen, the lesbian from IT, gave in the woman's room the next day. So much for that oath of secrecy. I overheard it while taking the first good crap in days.

And what can I tell you about after that? It was more of the same only worse. Thompson, for example, he uses that document I signed as carte blanche to whip me whenever he wants. So every

day I'm quivering in anticipation.

He usually has me in his office over the morning break. It's always the same routine—ten whacks with the cane followed by a rather forceful blow job. The only difference is in the intensity.

Then there's the house and all the guys. The weekends are especially busy. They fuck me, their friends fuck me, their friend's, friends fuck me. And when I'm not being fucked I'm sucking cock or licking pussy.

Too, every so often the sales force takes me on the road. They use me as a sort-of company whore—bitch in the boardroom, slut in the bedroom fantasy girl. Or as Cal likes to put it—"A gal who takes it the bottom can be good for the bottom line."

The thing is this: I no longer control anything. And without control I suppose my life could be better, but I spend so much time trying to please my master and my companions at work that I never have the time to think about it.

Anyway, that's pretty much my story—except for the part about where Cal made me piss myself in front of my co-workers, but I'll save that for another day...