Two days later, I started getting the texts.
The first one was from Donnie Tobias, one of the wealthiest, most influential players in state politics. "H______, great event you put on." Attached was a picture of him reclining on what was most likely his yacht floating somewhere on Lake Erie. He had a smile of someone too rich to give a fuck about how ugly he was.
"Unfortunately, you forgot to take care of one thing."
The next attachment he sent made me involuntarily yelp and drop my phone. It was a picture of this small, sad erection, with the Buffalo skyline in the background, I assume, to make it appear larger.
Sitting in the break room, feelings of disgust washed over me as I tried to compose myself.
"You OK, boss?" It was Michael. He was leaning over me with his hand on my shoulder. In his other hand, he was holding out my phone, with the dick pic still clearly visible on the screen.
"Here, you dropped this." That smile. It's like every man is looking at me with J______'s smile, now. They all know. They all see right through me.
I quickly lock my phone, only to feel it vibrate with a text.
Donnie Tobias: "Surely, for the amount of money I've donated, I should be at the front of the line to use that pretty little mouth of yours."
Shaking, I sent back to him, "please don't. I'm not interested."
Soon, he's calling my phone. I have no choice but to pick it up. He's too important.
"Mr. To...."
"Look here, you little slut..." I quickly walk into my office so that the sound of his voice doesn't carry for everyone to hear. "...a dick drainer like you needs to get on your knees and beg for my cock whenever I want. Is that understood, H______?"
"..." I don't know what to say.
"Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." Eating shit would be easier than saying these words, but there's no one more important than Donnie Tobias in my professional universe. Even so, he was one of the most disgusting people I have ever met, with what I now knew was one of the most pathetic-looking penises I had ever seen.
"What was that, slut?"
I spoke a little louder, "yes, sir," my words coming out in between coughs. My throat was so dry.
"Yes, what, cunt?"
He wanted me to say it. Speaking the words was a thousand times harder and made my body involuntarily start to shake. I could hear that water lapping against his boat as I tried to figure a way to escape. Eventually, I gave up.
"Yes, I will get on my knees and beg for your cock whenever you want, Sir."
I could hear his breathing. He was fat, so it wasn't shocking to hear him wheeze when he talked to you. This was different. "Good girl."
I could feel my body involuntarily react to the words. I was a good girl. I had pleased a man. I had pleased an important man.
"It's too bad you're not here. I could put that little mouth of yours to good use."
All I could do was freeze in horror as I listened to his heavy breathing. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. I had this overwhelming feeling of nausea, like I was about to vomit at any moment.
"Would you like that? Would you like that, H______?" Saying my name made it so much worst.
I wanted to scream at him, to tell him that I'd rather die than look at his penis, that I've never seen anything more pathetic in my life. Instead, all I could say was, "ye...."
Then, thankfully, Angel knocked and came in without even waiting for me to give her permission. I hired her because I was told that we needed a diversity hire. She ended up being really good at her job, and we paid her 75 cents on the dollar.
I quickly hung up the phone.
"H______? Do you mind if we go over Friday's presentation now?"
For the next half hour, she sat across from me, displaying her PowerPoint on the large monitor that I had on one of the walls. She was stunning. I would kill for her perfect curves. I'm surprised that the guys in the office got any work done at all, with her walking around.
As she went over each slide, my phone started blowing up. Picking it up, I saw a hard penis on my lock screen. Back then, I had it set to preview everything automatically. Picture after picture from numbers I didn't recognize was sent to me.
What the fuck was happening? The images made me want to vomit, but all I could do was sit there and act interested in what she was showing me.
Slowly, I could feel my body involuntarily responding to the digital assault. Who were these guys? How did they get my number?
Their questions were equally disgusting. "Hey baby, I hear you suck dick? Let's hang out? What ya doing? Need a big dick? Call me, slut? This big cock needs draining.."
For the rest of the week, I would get one of these texts every hour or so. I would try blocking them, but they would just pop up on a different number. They were in different locations. Sometimes, sitting in a chair. Sometimes on a public toilet. A few times outdoors. One time, it looked like he took a break from hiking around Lake Michigan to send me a picture of his hard cock.
By Friday morning, I had figured out how many different men were sending me dick pics. I counted seven different guys' dicks from the 63 pictures sent to me. One black guy was disappointedly average, six white guys, one circumcised, two of which were very thick, and one of which was positively massive. Thankfully, none of them was Donnie Tobais' tiny member.
As I walked into the office, Angel anxiously walked up to me and told me, "they're already here, waiting for you in the conference room."
I was running late, having spent most of the night touching myself while shifting between looking at degrading porn, the dozens of dick pics saved onto my phone, and the videos of my rape.
"OK, let me run into my office real quick, and I'll be right there."
This was an important meeting. We'd be pitching to a lot of investors. Putting down my bag, I took a moment to fix my face. It was using more makeup than in the past, encouraged by the anonymous men I played with online. Still, I looked like that good midwestern girl trying a little too hard to impress a boy. Part of me wanted to run home and do it all over again. What was wrong with me? Angel stared at me impatiently from my office door.
