The Wulfwinter Agency

All names and characters contained herein are fictitious and do not intentionally relate to any person, either living or dead. This story is a work of fiction, a fantasy -- so read it with a grain of salt and an open mind. Voting and feedback is greatly appreciated, especially positive feedback and frequent "fives".

I stand in front of the tall, smoke-glassed building, clutching my portfolio containing my resume and other sundry job-hunting items. My knees grow weak as I realize this is probably the last and final interview before I become another statistic in the latest government unemployment census.

****

Stepdaddy stands over me, his large, knobby cock a few inches from my face. Looking down on me, his brow knit in consternation, he strokes himself a few times, cum pouring out of the end of his bulbous, purple head. Absent-mindedly, he wipes himself off on my forehead, warm sticky sperm smears across my eyebrow.

"That'll do pig, that'll do," he whispers, as he pushes the head down to my lips.

"Suck it clean, like a good girl, that's it, just like that. You've earned yourself a little ice cream – lick up the floor first, then you can help yourself."

He pats my head like an obedient dog, and zips up his trousers.

****

I shudder, bringing myself back to unfortunate reality. I escaped Stepdaddy and survived, even excelled, for six whole years. I landed a great sales job in the big city-- health insurance, bonuses, a 401k plan, all the good stuff.

It all came crashing down about six months ago, when I became part of the "big layoff."

After cashing in my 401k (and taking a nasty hit from the IRS), I had a little over $20,000 in savings to last me until I found a new job.

At first I partied my ass off, not really worried about making ends meet -- I mean, I had enough cash in the bank to last a few years, right? Wrong. A big wrong. What with rent as high as it is in the city, take-out every night, credit card bills, I was about two weeks from being bankrupt and homeless.

Physically I looked good. Catching a glimpse of my reflection in the big, mirrored front doors of the Wulfwinter Agency, I see a smartly dressed, twenty-six year old petite woman staring back at me. Dark, charcoal Ann Taylor business suit, black, high-heeled Ferragamo pumps, hair pulled severely back in a tight, businesslike pony tail.

My chestnut hair glints in the fall sunlight, showing streaks of honey (highlights I had put in at

Chic

, the city's premier styling salon).

I take a deep breath and stride forward to enter the glass lobby.

Seated on a raised dais behind a large mahogany desk, the male receptionist has a glazed, almost satisfied look on his face. He peers down for a brief second, then suddenly looks up at me for the first time. His face strangely flushes red and his mouth works absently, and he holds up one finger. He places both hands on the desk in front of him, arches his back and looks up at the ceiling high above us.

I follow his gaze and see nothing noteworthy, other than lights and a few fire sprinklers.

For a second I think I hear the sound of a zipper, then his voice breaks my reverie.

"May I help you, miss?"

"Yes, I have an appointment with human resources, a Mister Hollingsworth."

"And your name is...?" he queries, as he looks me up and down.

"Jessica Martin." I reply, smoothing the front of my charcoal skirt.

"One second." His hand presses a button and he speaks into the headset he is wearing.

"Mr. Hollingsworth, there is a young lady here in the lobby to see you. A Ms. Martin, sir."

"You may go up, eighteenth floor, at the end of the hallway to the right as you exit the elevator." He waves his hand dismissively and his attention turns back down to something under the desk in front of him.

Peculiar, I think, as I make my way to the bank of elevators. My heels make hollow clicking sounds as I walk across the lobby.

The building is modern, made of mostly chrome and glass, with shiny marbled floors. The center is a large atrium, the elevators glass tubes that shoot up silently into the depths of the building above. I press the up button and wait for a set of doors to open for me.

As I wait patiently, I look around the atrium at the offices. Pretty ordinary stuff, yet something nags at me as I peer through the windows at the men working diligently at their desks.

Not a single woman in sight, I think nervously, my stomach doing somersaults.

The glass doors open and I step in and press "eighteen". As I start to go up, the car next to me settles to a stop, and for a brief second through the glass I could swear I see a woman on her knees servicing a man in a dark suit. Then I am up into the building, the walls flashing by in blinding speed.

At eighteen, the car stops and the doors open to a clean, well lighted hallway. A sign on the wall in front of me reads "Human Resources →"

For a moment I pause and take a deep breath to compose myself. This is it. Last ditch effort to save myself. If this interview fails like all the others, I'll have to crawl back to Stepdaddy on my hands and knees. Literally.

****

I am down on hands and knees, Stepdaddy behind me, grunting. His right hand grips my reins, pulling my head up painfully, arching my back. The stiff, scratchy horsehair attached to the plug embedded deep in my ass swishes across the backs of my naked thighs. Stepdaddy's big, knobby cock courses in and out of my moist, dripping pussy. His left hand reaches under me and big, calloused fingers stroke my hot, hard clitoris.

"Good girl, fuck back against me, that's it," he gasps as he thrusts into me. He reaches up and scoops butter out of a container on the counter. Briefly pulling his engorged prick out of me, he smears butter up and down his shaft and shoves himself deep inside me again, his pelvis pressing against my ass cheeks, painfully pushing the plug in even harder.

I squeal around the bit in my mouth and jerk back onto his big, veined dick. I can feel his thick pubic hair tickling my pussy as he thrusts into me. His finger stroking my clit picks up speed and I feel an orgasm coming, hard. The flush starts at my breasts and spreads downward until the whole world spins out of control. I cum, hard, panting and gasping around the cold, metal bit. Every thrust pushes the plug deeper into my ass, sending me over the edge yet again.

Stepdaddy yanks the plug out and in one swift motion, replaces it with his big, ugly cock. He thrusts once, twice, three times, using both hands to pull my reins back painfully, and cums with a deep shudder. I feel his heat fill my bowels and warm sperm leaks out around the edge of my ragged rectum, dripping down across my battered pussy lips. I reach under and rub some of his cum into my cunt with my finger.

He pulls out with a plop, and moves around in front of me. Removing my bridle and bit, he places the purple tip of his cock at my mouth and demands "Lick it clean, lick it clean, girl."

I lap up his seed and lick his fuzzy, spent balls clean of any errant sperm, and look up at him for approval.

"That'll do, pig. That'll do." He pats my head and tucks himself back into his trousers and goes back to reading the paper, leaving me on my knees on the kitchen floor.

****

Mr. Hollingsworth is a short, red-faced man with a receding hairline and a large, wide nose. He is dressed in a crisp, gray, three piece banker's suit, with a starched white dress shirt and a simple, black tie. He leans back in his leather office chair and peers at me over his wire-rimmed reading glasses, fingers steepled in front of him.

"Miss Martin, your resume is impressive, yet I feel that you are not quite the, shall we say, caliber, of most of our female employees."

I feel the gorge rise in my stomach as his words hit me like a wave, and for a second the edge of my vision starts to go black.

Panic attack

. Oh shit. I take a deep breath and start to go over my excellent past sales history – all my awards, account growth, my commitment to my previous employer. He senses a note of desperation in my voice, and leans forward, his eyes narrowing, like a snake about to strike.

"That's all well and good, but you've been out of work for what, over six months now? Your credentials are outstanding, and your previous employer gave you a glorious recommendation, however, positions here at Wulfwinter only go to the best applicants."

"Please Mr. Hollingsworth, just give me a chance to prove myself. I promise you won't be disappointed," my voice cracks pitifully as I beg him to save me.

****

Stepdaddy holds my report card in his hand. He sets it on the kitchen table and pulls me over his knees. Flipping my short skirt up, exposing my ass, he pulls my white cotton panties down around my ankles.

"Martins do NOT make C's, young lady! You need to be punished for this lackluster effort."

I feel his belt slide from around his waist, and I sense him doubling it back on itself to make a short, tough leather strap.

The first smack hits me, surprising me with its ferocity, and I jerk convulsively, squealing in agony. Smack, smack, smack, the blows come unrelenting, until my naked ass is red and streaked. Tears stream down my face and I sob pitifully.

Stepdaddy stops and kneads my cheeks with his big, rough, calloused, carpenter's hands. His breath comes in gasps and I feel his turgid erection poking my stomach through his work pants.

He pushes me off his lap and onto my knees in front of him, wiping the tears off my face with one big thumb. I see his cock tenting the front of his trousers inches from my mouth.

"Take off your skirt, pig," he demands hoarsely. I comply and wait for his big cock.

He unzips his trousers and pulls his thick, knobby manhood out, stroking it a few times until it is rock hard and angry purple at the end.

"Suck it."

I jerk forward and impale my mouth over his hard, hot cock, slobbering and sucking wetly. He begins thrusting deeply into my mouth, his fat head forcing itself into my throat, making me gag and retch.

Suddenly I feel the rough leather belt smack painfully down on my bare ass. With one hand he is gripping my ponytail and pulling my mouth down over his cock, with the other he is whipping my pert ass unmercifully.

I moan around a mouthful of cock as tears pour down my face, bubbling at the corners of my lips.

"NO –smack—MORE – smack – C's!"

I pull off his cock, and implore pleadingly, "I won't Stepdaddy! I'll study harder! I'll make you proud, I promise!"

He pulls me up and presses me down over the kitchen table, and smacks my hot, red ass cheeks with his big open hand.

"Goddamn – SMACK! – right – SMACK! – you better not bring home another C!"

With his left hand he grabs my ponytail in a fist, with his right he reaches into the refrigerator and pulls out a stick of butter. He rubs the butter stick over my hot stinging ass cheeks and presses it against my tight, brown asshole.

"No, Stepdaddy, please don't! I promise I'll be good!" I moan. My pussy is dripping wet, however, and I reach a hand back to play with myself.

Stepdaddy places the fat, purple head of his knobby engorged cock at the entrance of my tight little asshole. With a grunt and one deep thrust, he plunges in, his coarse stomach hair tickling my tender backside.

I bite down on the palm of my hand and moan pitifully as he begins to anally ravage me, thrusting deeply, in and out.

Every few thrusts, he pulls out completely and slathers butter over his angry, hard cock, then plunges back in.

Smack! Smack! Smack! With a shout, he reaches out and grips me by my tiny waist and pulls me back onto his red, bulbous ugly cock, grinding his pelvis into my cheeks.

I feel his hot cum pumping into my ass, his cock actually grows even larger and pulses as he explodes deep inside me.

With one last smack he pulls me around onto my knees in front of him and presses his enflamed cockhead at my mouth.

"Lick it clean, girl, lick it good. There you go, just the way I like it. Lick my balls too, should be nice and buttery for you."

He pats my head affectionately and says, "No more C's, girl, okay? That'll do pig, that'll do."

****

Mr. Hollingsworth leans forward, with his hands on his knees under the edge of the desk, and looks searchingly into my eyes.

"Do you have what it takes to work at Wulfwinter? Do you really?"

I hear a muffled thump from under his desk, and I jump slightly, startled. My eyes fly open wide and I lurch to my feet and step past the side of his desk and look down at his lap.

He is naked from the waist down and his cock is embedded deeply, completely into a small woman's ass as she kneels under his desk. He doesn't thrust, simply holds her firmly by her pale, twin globes. I see his hands knead the cheeks, and her muscles clench and unclench as she milks his cock without moving. I hear a muffled whimper, and then my eyes light on a document on the lower left corner of his desk.

Dear Mr. Hollingsworth,

As a past employee of the Wulfwinter Agency, I beseech you to hire my stepdaughter. She will need much training, as she is very headstrong and willful, however, with the right touch, she can be the best slave in the organization.

Thank you in advance for your consideration,

Dick Martin

Like a giant cosmic puzzle, all the pieces crash together in my mind. I see under the lobby desk a small, petite blonde earnestly deepthroating the receptionist's cock. Her throat works convulsively as she swallows torrent after torrent of his hot cum, tears streaming down her cheeks, a muffled animalistic grunt as he fills her mouth.

In the elevator next to mine, the tall, angular man in the dark, pinstriped business suit admonishes the long-legged redhead not to get sperm on his dress slacks. Her fist pumps his shaft up and down, her tongue dancing over and around the fat, red head of his thick cock. Geysers of cum gush out and up, and she licks frantically, trying to slurp it up without making a mess.

Peering through the windows into the offices bordering the glass and chrome atrium, I see pointed toes of high-heeled shoes sticking out from under desks. I see a woman on her knees in the rest room, servicing male employees with her mouth, cleaning their cocks after they relieve themselves.

Suddenly I am jolted back to the present, reality, as a side door to Mr. Hollingsworth's office slowly swings open. I see a tall, rugged, broad shouldered figure standing in the shadows just on the other side of the doorframe. In his left hand he holds a small bridle, bit and reins. In his left is a large buttplug adorned with a cascade of chestnut horsehair streaming down, almost to the floor.

Stepdaddy...

The End