Chapter 3: The Marketing Submission
I must have read and reread that $16 million marketing contract with Richards International a dozen times during the last hour, pacing back and forth in my office like a prosecutor before a grand jury.
"Now that I think of it, I didn't even review a marketing plan with him, for fuck's sake! You've made a total fool out of yourself this time, Isabella."
Those things he made me do – was he, in fact, testing me? Did I have to pass some sort of "trial run" ritual before he bestowed his prestigious marketing account on the lap of our firm?
It is hard for me to believe that I first met him only one week ago.
When Jerry Richards slowly looked me up and down that spring day, I felt almost excruciating embarrassment. Yet I did not try to stop him in any way from trying to envision my body. In fact, I liked it.
He caught me off guard. As I look back on it now, I realize that he probably counted on doing just that. In fact he probably relished in it.
I am certain that I had acted like nothing more than a common tramp with Jerry, but, in my defense, you must understand just how sex-starved I was.
Well now that I've let you in on a bit of my kinky exploits, I guess I owe it to you to give you some background on how this interesting moment in my basically dull and predictable life came about.
Even though I am in my early forties, my giddish-teenage-girl side comes out when I get wound up – maybe it's because I've repressed her for so long.
I should let you know a little bit about myself. I have to confess that when I said early forties, I might have embellished that part a wee bit. I am actually 48 years of age – turning 49 this year. Most people will tell you, though, I don't look anywhere near my age.
I have a grown son who is 26. He and I don't see much of each other since he lives all the way on the other side of the country. His father was strong and evil and controlling enough to shut me out of Zachary's life completely since I left the "matrimonial home" just over 10 years ago.
"Matrimonial home"? I mean I never even heard that expression before the separation proceedings started – now that phrase is in my thoughts nearly every day since the divorce.
I've worked hard building a career and have advanced myself to Senior International Accounts Manager with M. Monroe Marketing – not bad for starting out as a Kelly Temp Girl and then a full time administrative assistant. I even took night classes at college for four years while maintaining a full-time position. Hey, maybe I'm bragging a bit, but I've worked hard to get my life back to the standard of living I had before I left my marriage.
I took my fair share of shots and capitalized on my opportunities. Some of those opportunities may have been a bit on the shady side, but I always thought that was just part of the business.
Here I sit today, on top of the crиme de la crиme of international high tech accounts.
As a woman of responsibility, integrity, character, and a certain degree of Victorian morality and principles, most men have shied away from me, especially when it came to romance. But sometimes I have to laugh at that notion people have of me.
Victorian morality – moi? If my co-workers and friends only knew the real inner me – my secret dirty, naughty, almost uncivilized thoughts and fantasies – any notion of highbrow proprietary would quickly be thrown out with yesterday's Jacuzzi water.
But the outer Isabella – the view most people have of me – that is probably the reason why I've not had sex in three years, 5 months, 2 weeks and 3 days. Yes, I have been keeping a daily mental note and, yes, this is my all-time record – a record I vow to break each morning as I wake up.
My love life is virtually – no, let me rephrase that – absolutely – nonexistent!
Nonexistent except for the intimate relations I have with my 10-inch true-to-life replica of Ron Jeremy's privates. That thing set me back almost $100 for the deluxe model but, as the sales clerk whispered with a sly wink when I bought it, "worth every damn penny, sweetie."
It's not that I don't want sex. I guess it's just that I am afraid of being hurt again and anyone who does attract me, I push away. I always managed to mentally justify my lack of sex as a trade-off for my business success.
But all that changed one beautiful sunny Friday afternoon in April. It was my last call of the day at 5:00. Some friends begged me to cancel and hit "happy hour" with them at nearby patio bar.
Normally I would have acquiesced in a second; however my voices told me, "Not this time! You have been trying to get this appointment for nearly three months. No way baby! Cocktails will have to wait!"
Always being one to follow my inner voices, I heeded their instructions and politely declined the invitation of my friends, begging off with a rain check for a later date.
I left my office, hopped into my cherry red Mustang convertible, and decided to fly with my top down. Alanis Morissette was blaring from my CD player as I hit the highway at about 85.
"And all I really want is some patience … a way to calm the angry voice … and all I really want is deliverance" …
"What I wouldn't give to find a soul mate …. someone else to catch this drift ….and what I wouldn't give to meet a kindred … Enough about me, let's talk about you for a minute … Enough about you, let's talk about life for a while … "
After a short while, I could see my destination glimmering in the distance like a tall diamond scraping the virgin blue sky with its prominent architectural points – The Pinnacle Building.
Virtually all of the software for the entire national government is manufactured right here and many prestigious worldwide companies also utilize the Richards International magic.
This multi-billion dollar international conglomerate was founded and run by one man – or should I say boy. He is a 25 year-youngster. This whiz kid's reputation as a predator in the business world is impressive and his reputation as a technical genius is indeed legendary. Surely some sort of pact with the devil attributed to and created to explain his unusual success at such a tender age!
"Hey what the fuck – I don't care! If I score this deal, then maybe I can relax the reins a little and start living the high life for a change."
"Jesus Christ, this building is one massive structure – and all glass – now that's impressive." I entered the massive atrium.
Parrots and other exotic birds flew freely throughout the massive open space. Pelicans walked the floors like busy pedestrians in a metropolis while exotic fish swam in the myriad of ponds that decorated the interior landscape. Beautiful flowers and trees adorned the atrium giving the illusion of a tropical paradise.
The rays of the late afternoon sun penetrated the area like nightspots in an airport. No reception desk was in sight and I was looking for some direction, when all of a sudden a security guard – a massive mountain of a man – gently touched my arm and said, "May I help you, miss?"
Politely I handed him my card and explained that, "I was here to see Jerr ... I … I mean Mr. Richards."
"Just one moment please ... " He disappeared and then, within a few moments, mysteriously reappeared. "Right this way ma'am."
"Thank you," I replied and followed him to a glass elevator that took us up 60 stories. Now, I've been in high-speed elevators and hi-rises before, but never have I been able to see the outside while engaged in my ascension.
Within moments that which appeared so large and lifelike on the ground, now seemed so small and then – oh no – POP – my ears.
"God, I hate that!"
The guard stood firmly, never making eye contact. Suddenly the elevator slowed to a stop and he took out a key, placed it into a keyhole and turned it, to ascend us one more floor.
The elevator ride finally came to an end and the doors opened.
Even more impressive than the atrium was the reception area of what I anticipated as being one of the most extraordinary offices that I have ever entered.
Lo and behold, there was the reception desk, with not one, but three women with headsets. As phones rang constantly in the background these gorgeous women were, oddly enough, all speaking different languages at the same time.
Behind them clocks from virtually every time zone on the planet ticked their moments away in unison – tick tick tick.
I asked the guard, "Is Mr. Richards' office on this floor?"
For the first time, the guard's stone face broke into a smile and he replied "Ma'am this whole floor IS Mr. Richards' office."
"Oh," I said timidly.
"Now you've made yourself look way too blonde, silly girl," I thought to myself.
"All of these beautiful, bright, sophisticated women scurrying like ants from one end of his super-sized office to the other – with only one extremely maniacal and focused purpose – to serve the vision of the international whiz kid – the inaccessible arrogant genius, who today was granting me an audience and an opportunity to get a piece of his extensive and lucrative marketing budget."
My hair was a bit mussed and I primped it up just a bit – making sure it didn't look too "pouffy". My silky nude hose beautifully accented my Gucci patent leather pumps and I knew my new dark blue Donna Karen suit was hot-looking – short tight skirt, long tailored jacket and sheer cream silk blouse with the top three buttons undone. I wore an ivory demi lace wonderbra to accentuate my plunging cleavage, but to avoid unsightly panty lines, I decided to go shamelessly al fresco under my pantyhose. My lucky gold cross adorned my neck. A spritz of my favourite perfume – Calvin Klein's Obsession – the musky scent tantalizing and barely noticeable – was just subtle enough to seduce.
"Who was I kidding?" I thought. "This kid could have any woman he desires. Me trying to be sexy for him? I've got to be nuts! No, I will impress him with my forcefulness and knowledge and maybe just a smidgen of charm."
"I don't care how rich and powerful he is. He is younger than my own son, for Christ's sake!"
"Yeah right – who am I kidding? I am one nervous wreck. Oh well, as Charlie Sheen said in the movie 'Wall Street', 'All of life comes down to a few moments – and this – this is definitely one of them!' "
I clutched my black leather briefcase firmly under my arm and tried to reassure myself that the marketing plan I would soon pitch to Mr. Richards was going to impress him so much that he would end up begging our firm to represent his interests.
The guard looked at me, questioning me with his eyes. "Are you ready?" they seemed to say, and he graciously opened the door to Mr. Richards' office.
There he stood.
"Gasp!" my voices screamed inside me as my heart skipped a million beats.
He extended his hand, "Ms. Thorne, or if I may, I'd love to call you Eesabella - possibly the most gorgeous name a woman could have!"
I must have turned ten shades of crimson then but he was gracious enough to pretend not to notice. No one had ever pronounced my name like that before. I liked it. I liked it a lot.
Of French Canadian origin, Jerry Richards had changed his name from the original francophone version of "Gйrald Richard" (the last name is pronounced "Reeshar" like the famous Canadian hockey legend Maurice "Rocket" Richard) years ago, in an effort to better "anglicize" his image for the international marketplace. In spite of his noble intentions and flawless English, however, his telltale, and somewhat sexy, Quebecois accent still trickles through.
Firmly, I shook his hand saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Richards – and yes, by all means you may call me Isabella."
"Only if you call me Jerry!" Not taking his eyes off of me for an instant, he addressed the guard, "Nathan, that will be all." Without a sound Nathan bowed, turned and left the room.
"My goodness, what a lovely smile you have, Eesabella!" Jerry motioned to a couch. "Please have a seat. May I get you anything – coffee or something cold perhaps?"
"Evian water would be nice," I replied, and in as poised a manner as I could muster, I walked as encouraged to the couch.
"Oh God, please don't let the tops of my pantyhose show," I thought nervously as I tugged at the bottom of what now seemed my way-too-short skirt and tried to sit as lady-like as I could, sinking back bit by bit into the soft leather couch.
Suddenly I felt so out of place. "What was I thinking when I bought a skirt this tight and short?" I thought. "I can barely pour myself into it. I am nearly 50 years old for Christ's sake!"
It was at that moment that I noticed. I thought I was mistaken at first. No, it couldn't be – or could it? Was he staring at my legs?
Shyly I looked away. "Oh I am blushing again – he is going to think I am acting like a high school girl", and with that thought a small giggle escaped my lips.
He turned around and headed to the wet bar across the room. Had he noticed the giggle? Now I was getting nervous. I couldn't blow this deal.
I tried to relax as I surveyed the office. It was sparsely but tastefully decorated. A Leonard Cohen lithograph adorned the wall next to me and the nude woman from the picture was so erotic I began to feel turned on.
"OK, girl, now you are losing it – where is there left for you to look?" Everything in the room seemed to represent sex – from the phallic-shaped telephone to the erotic artwork scattered sporadically throughout the room.
I opened my briefcase and took out several stacks of papers – three different and unique marketing proposals. One of them was sure to please him! I began fidgeting with the documents and laid them out in three neat piles on the coffee table in front of me.
Finally he returned with a couple of drinks. One look at the drinks and I could tell he wasn't serving Evian water.
"I just thought we could relax a little over our business meeting, n'est-ce pas?" Jerry said with a mischievous grin – a little boy's grin, like that of a naughty child who knows he is about to get away with something forbidden. It is always the grins that get me.
"What's in the drinks?"
"Just a little Richards Special", he snickered. "Try it, cherie – you'll like it – most women do."
Damn he was sure of himself.
But I could see why. At well over 6 feet tall, his young lanky physique was firm and slightly muscular. His straight light brown hair hung loosely over his ears and he had a habit of brushing back loose strands that fell into his eyes from time to time.
And thank goodness he would brush back those strands or else they would block my view of those delicious gray-blue eyes of his – eyes that pierced through my physical being to reach something forbidden inside.
He wore a navy Armani pinstripe suit with the casual ease of a man dressed in blue jeans. The two gold stud earrings in his left ear gave him just enough of a bad-boy edge to stir my interest even more.
I reached for my drink and the pungent aroma of expensive, well-aged scotch drifted into my senses.
A few Richards Specials later and my clever business banter soon gave way to nervous giggling. I found myself succumbing to Jerry's insistent sensuous whispers – whispers about my body.
Jerry told me how much he admired my breasts and how much he wanted to play with them. He asked me if I liked making his cock hard. He told me I dressed like a slut and that he knew how to take care of sluts like me.
Believe me when I tell you that, at that moment in time, my whole body craved so badly for the touch of that wunder kindt, I would have gladly committed murder if it meant feeling his hands on me.
It was then he revealed his wicked secret to me. He told me how he always searched out older women who were sexually adventurous – women like me. He told me that only an older woman could quench the heat of his desires because only a woman who is sure and confident of her body could allow him the luxury to indulge in the things he craves.
I listened with awe. How much did he really know about me – had he done some kind of "research"? It couldn't be that difficult for someone in his position to do.
"Eesabella", he commanded out of nowhere, "remove your clothes for me now."
"I can't … I … I can't do that … we are in your office for Christ sake." But even as I spoke those words, I knew I would do it.
I stripped for him under the harsh glaring fluorescent lights.
"Wait slut – leave your pantyhose and shoes on."
I stood naked in front on him, dressed only in my sheer silk Christian Dior pantyhose and shiny black pumps, as he took me into his arms and kissed me hard.
"Jesus, Eesabella, you look so damn fuckable," murmured Jerry. "That hot little body of yours is driving me insane …. Mmmm what luscious tits, and nice full protruding nipples …. mmmmm yes …. so very fuckable."
His hands were everywhere instantly. He felt every inch of me within minutes and then he spread my legs apart with a swipe, expertly shifting me into a standing spread-eagled position.
Jerry grabbed one of the pencils from his desk and, using the sharp lead point as a dagger, he tore into the thin veil of material protecting my crotch.
In one smooth swoop, he tossed the pencil aside and plunged a finger through the freshly-made rip into my wet dripping cunt hole.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaa" … I screamed out in pleasure. His long strong finger fucked me harder.
"Get on my desk on all fours."
"Oh please, Jerry, I can't do that. P-p-please don't ask me to do that".
"Eesabella you can and you will. Do you understand me?"
I cleared some space on his enormous cluttered desk and timidly climbed on top.
"You must remember, my dear slut, to keep your legs open at all times."
He forced my legs wide open and then savagely ripped my pantyhose apart with both hands, exposing my bald pussy and protruding ass to the harsh lights and his penetrating ogling.
"That's it Eesabella, cherie – look at how wet you've become – now that is a true sign of a whore."
"Y-y-y-y-es, Sir", I managed to stutter. My embarrassment was quickly giving way to lust.
"Oh, I see my new little slut knows how to show obedience. Do you like exposing your body in this fashion?"
"Ohhhhh yes, Jerry – I m-mean Sir, I do like exposing myself for you".
"Only for me, slut?" and he walked to his office door. Trickles of my wetness began slithering down my inner thighs.
"Miss Tess, Miss Jane, and Miss Penny, would you please come into my office, tout de suite!" Jerry barked out impatiently to the women at the reception desk.
All three were grinning like Cheshire cats as they scurried into his office, walked over to the desk and surrounded me within seconds.
"Oh my God, they've done this before", I suddenly realized.
Miss Penny spoke first, "Jerry, this is indeed a prized older tramp – just look at how sensual and curvaceous her body is – and such a soft pretty face. You told me she was nearly 50 – why that is older than my own mother for fuck's sake! But this one could pass for her mid 30's. Believe me, my mother doesn't look anything like this!"
Normally such a statement would have me elated but at this point I was so fucking embarrassed I couldn't even look up. I stared down at the desk – trying desperately to count the number of notches engrained in the mahogany desktop.
I guessed Miss Penny to be in her early 20's – how inappropriate for her to be talking about me in this manner. What a sweet piece of eye candy she was, though!
Dark roots brazenly capped her glossy blonde hair, which fell to the tops of her full breasts – luscious plump breasts that were prominently displayed in a tight raspberry sweater. A short plaid skirt draped her trim hips and allowed a generous view of her long shapely legs. As I looked her over, I noticed with slight surprise, that a small reptilian tattoo peaked through her sheer dark stockings, shamelessly gracing her lower right calf.
Snickering, she reached over and started pulling up and down on my nipples in an exaggerated manner – giving the effect of milking a cow. She pinched them harder and harder with each movement of her hand. "You are old enough to be somebody's grandmother, aren't you, whore?"
"I can't keep this up. This is just way too humiliating and too embarrassing – I am going to say something!" I thought. But I said nothing and I did not move.
"What a nice touch, Jerry – you made her leave her pantyhose on, darling," piped up Miss Tess, "even though they are torn to shreds and what on earth did you do to this woman to make her pussy so dripping wet?"
She was idly tapping the palm of her hand with what appeared to be a solid gold Cartier ballpoint pen. Tap-tap-tap. She suddenly stopped playing with it and thrust it into my gaping hole. She pumped that pen so intensely in and out of my delicate little cunt that oodles of my sticky juice just oozed out and my pussy started making gross swishing noises. With that, they all started laughing hysterically and I was humiliated in the most awkward way you could ever imagine.
"Have you ever had 14 kt of pure gold fuck your sweet little hole, Isabella?" With a satisfied grin, she licked the designer pen clean.
"Mmmmmm – such a delicious little cunt, too, Jerry!"
Miss Tess was a stunning redhead with beautiful aqua green eyes. I had noticed her immediately when I entered Mr. Richards' office. She wore this sort of sharp-edged savvy hourglass figure that reminded me of Jane Russell and her famous suspended "Howard Hughes bra" titties. She wore it well.
"She could dial her own phone with those things", I thought to myself and let out another nervous giggle.
Tess frowned and spanked my uncovered ass with her bare hand. "Miss Thorne, you little slut, I do not think Mr. Richards wants you laughing at this moment."
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Ouch – my ass was so exposed and red and it was burning – I had never been treated like this before in my life.
"Nice work, Miss Tess. Now ladies", said Jerry, "please strip quickly and take your positions around Eesabella."
Miss Jane was the first to start peeling her clothes off. Taller than the other two women by almost half a foot, the slender brunette removed her skimpy black dress and I was somewhat taken aback to notice that she wore no bra at all underneath. To tell you the truth, though, her tits were nothing more than a couple of little niblets and, if she had in fact worn a bra, it wouldn't have been more than an "AA" cup.
Her dark exotic nipples were pierced with small silver hoops and a rose tat adorned her petite right breast. She was a graceful Goth-like creature that reminded me of the "heroin chic" models one sees in all the fashion magazines these days. Her stark short dark hair and pale skin perfectly complimented the heavy black liner surrounding her doe-like brown eyes. Dark lipstick stained her full pouty lips.
All three women were soon undressed.
Jerry produced an attachй case from under the desk and pulled out an assortment of strap-on dildos with interchangeable shafts of different sizes and colours.
Next, he got on the intercom, "Nathan, we are ready for you now".
"Oh my God, did I hear that right – ready for Nathan? What the hell is going on here?"
Nathan rushed into Mr. Richards' office a few moments later with a video camera and tripod in tow and busily went about setting up the camera.
"I'm all set now, boss," he said as he looked around the room at the four naked women before him.
Well honestly I wasn't actually totally naked at that point – not until Miss Tess hastily tore off my Gucci pumps and ripped pantyhose in a wicked frenzy after Jerry motioned his inclination to her.
"I know that you like girls, Eesabella", said Jerry, "and I love to watch my girls at play with someone new – and, as far as I am concerned, cherie, the older – the better!"
"I see that you have eyes for our Miss Tess and I must commend you on your excellent taste."
He picked me up in his strong arms and flung me on the couch as he turned to Miss Tess, "Straddle the little bitch, Tess – let's see how quickly she can bring you to orgasm."
She sauntered over swaying her hips back and forth like a pseudo hula dancer. Her magnificent breasts bounced as she moved. Her pinkish areolas surrounded a set of succulent erect nipples – the left one pierced by a wee gold barbell. I wanted so much to suck those nipples then, but my mouth was not allowed that particular luxury at that moment.
Once she straddled my face, I inhaled the delicious fragrance of her red-pubed pussy. How delighted I was to notice that she was a real redhead. I went to work immediately nibbling, licking, and sucking on her protruding clit. It only took a few minutes.
She let out a gush of cum that splashed over my lips and spilled into my mouth. She tasted as good as she looked – and sounded.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa you are such a sweet little fuck, Isabella – you made me cum so quickly and so hard", she screamed as her huge breasts heaved.
She got up then and, as the glaring video lights hit my cum stained face, I suddenly realized with an abrupt jolt that Nathan had been filming the whole thing.
"What kind of sick stuff are these people into?" I thought, but there was no hiding the fact that I was turned on big time.
Miss Penny and Miss Jane were playing with their pussies as they watched Tess and me and soon they started kissing and groping each other. I got even hornier watching their bodies and mouths intertwine and, before long, they began lavishing their attentions on my moi.
Miss Penny gently traced her French-manicured fingernail tips across my breasts – barely making contact with my skin – causing thousands of electrified pleasure points to suddenly come to life. I repeatedly squealed out in sheer bliss as the sensual sensations embraced my being.
"Aaaa, aaaa, oh, oh, oh, aaaaaah, ohhhhhhh …"
Jerry handed Miss Jane what appeared to be the largest of the strap-on dildos and, with a knowing wink, she soon strapped it on.
"Turn around, whore, and get on all fours. I want to fuck you like a dog!"
"Y-y-y-yes, M-m-miss Jane."
She fucked me hard then – with the biggest dildo I ever had inside my pussy. In fact it was bigger than any cock I have ever experienced too. It must have been at least 12 inches long.
She was an expert at it, too – with slow intense thrusts in and out – in and out –gradually picking up speed as I moaned and panted like a dog. She lubed my ass and finger-fucked that hole at the same time. My breasts were jiggling every which way as they seemed to take on a life of their own.
She started pulling at my hair as they all shouted out in unison "Cum, cum, cum ….", and I came for them like the whore I am.
Jerry's cock was rock solid hard by the time he finally released it from the tight confines of his trousers and his magnificent rigid member sprung forth like a caged animal that finally tastes freedom.
I couldn't take my eyes of it. It had been years since I saw a real live in-the-flesh penis and this one didn't look as if it would disappoint me! It was nice and thick around, circumcised, about 8 – 9 inches long, and had a magnificent pinkish glistening head that beckoned.
"This is what you were waiting for, wasn't it, Eesabella?" he demanded as he excitedly started stroking himself.
Before I could answer him, he picked me up once more and then sat himself down on the coach with his throbbing cock sticking straight up in the air. With my back towards him, he slowly lowered me until his cock was at the edge of my asshole.
"Open up that sweet ass of yours for Jerry", he whispered abrasively as he pulled back on my hair, and with one smooth thrust he shoved his cock into my ass and then spread my legs apart.
"Can you see everything through the lens, Nathan?"
"Oh yea, Mr. Richards. Can you spread her pussy open a little more." "Keep looking at the camera, Miss Thorne."
Jerry spread my cunt lips wide open for the camera, exposing my illicit pink flesh, and started fucking my tight asshole mercilessly. My cum flowed effortlessly from my uncovered pussy and Miss Penny dove into my crotch, noisily slurping on my juices.
I felt her tongue jewelry with pleasant surprise. The little pierced metal knob rubbed deliciously against my pulsating clit as she started lapping my dripping cunt frantically at first, gradually subsiding to long deliberate unhurried licks. This was an extreme sensation I had never before experienced and I comprehended then the gratification that had eluded me for such a long, long time.
"Ohhhhh good God," I thought, "this is starting to turn into a 3-ring circus! I cannot believe I am in the middle of this group of sexual deviants and, even more than that, I cannot believe I am getting off on it."
"Oh – oh – oh – oh – ohhhhhhhhh." Waves of pleasure rippled through my body.
Miss Penny seemed to be salivating as she vigilantly perused through the remaining dildos in the case. Her expert fingers inspected each shaft leisurely and thoroughly, finally settling on a stubby clear beaded faux dick.
Strapping it on, she forced that fat bulbous dildo into me and relentlessly began fucking my pussy hole while Jerry continued to invade my tight asshole.
The sweet sensual feeling of being stretched and filled so extremely in both holes at the same time, coupled with their steady pounding alternating in and out, was almost enough to drive me away from reality as we know it.
"Look into the camera, Isabella," demanded Nathan. "We need to see your expression when you climax."
"Eh??? Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," and I managed to look up into the voyeuristic video camera lens as my body shook through yet another orgasm. These orgasms were starting to overlap now.
"Nice work, fuck-slut", Penny sneered as she got up, slowly releasing the cum-drenched dildo from my gaping cunt hole.
"Eeeesabella, your ass is so fucking tight … you are going to make me cum … I am going to cum, I'm going to cum, I'm going to cummmm," shouted Jerry urgently. With that, he pulled his cock out of my ass, spun me around and shoved it into my mouth.
"Suck it dry, bitch!"
For the first time in my life, I was forced to endure the horror of tasting the faint traces of my own excrement and, before I was even able to gag, I felt his cock pump, pump, pump into my mouth and finally explode.
Jerry's hot sticky cum erupted like bubbling lava from a volcano and the overpowering taste in my mouth suddenly changed as it mingled with the bitter flavour of freshly spewed sperm.
Everyone groaned with astonished pleasure at witnessing the spectacle of such an enormous and humiliating submission.
What just happened? What had I done? I never felt that way before. The delicious new feeling that encompassed me during that slutty submissive display was overpoweringly elating to me.
"Ohhhhhhhhh fuck, Eesabella, that had to be absolutely, without doubt, the best orgasm I've had in a long, long time." Mr. Richards seemed very satisfied.
"Thank you, Sir, I am glad I pleased you."
After that, they alternated positions with me for hours – fucking, sucking and licking each and every one of my willing holes in various humiliating scenes – all the while being filmed by Nathan. They were insatiable.
Finally, Nathan turned off the video camera. The huge bulge in his pants was very evident and I looked questioningly at Mr. Richards.
"Finish him off with your mouth, slut."
I was delighted to have a new cock to play with and I quickly unzipped Nathan's fly. I knelt before him and lowered his trousers and his long, thick dick jutted out to greet me.
Pre-cum glistened from the knob and I rubbed his cock all over my face. My eyelids, cheeks, lips, and chin were soon streaked with his early semen. I licked and sucked his penis and balls to orgasm within minutes – believe me it wasn't difficult. He began to grunt as soon as I wrapped my lips around his cock and before long he started making that funny kind of face that all men make before they ejaculate.
"Swallow, bitch, swallow it all," Nathan yelled out as he cupped my face with his huge hands and forced his bursting cock deep – deep – deep inside my mouth.
His entire smoldering load slid down my throat like fine cognac.
It was nearing midnight when I left the Pinnacle Building that day. I was exhausted beyond human belief and I must have looked like a “crack ho” as I stumbled to my car, briefcase in hand. I could hardly get my legs to function properly because of the constant fucking. My too tight, too short designer skirt was in wrinkled disarray and I wore no hose. My hair was reminiscent of Debbie Harry in the 80's and my face was smeared with running mascara.
"Ohhhh Isabella", I thought as I drove off, "that has got to be the nastiest thing you have ever done. What kind of a submissive slut have you turned into?"
This all happened a week ago and I hadn't heard anything from Jerry or the Richards International Company since then – and today the contract arrived by courier.
Now that I have confessed all this, things have fallen a wee bit more in perspective for me. I mean, after all, what's wrong with enjoying and further investigating this "Eesabella’s seedier dark side"?
And I can't discount what I would earn on the commission of a $16 million account – especially when you consider my panache for designer goods coupled with an endlessly growing stack of bills!
Besides, I am absolutely, without a doubt, positive that we are the right choice to handle the intricate international marketing deals for such a prestigious and high profile company. I know we can give Jerry Richards the biggest bang for his buck – so to speak.
Satisfied with my conclusion, I finally stop pacing and sit down at my desk just as the shrill ringing of my office phone jolts me out of my thoughts.
"Bonjour, Isabella Thorne".
Jerry's powerful voice spills out from the receiver, "Well, have you received the contract, Eesabella?"
"Uh, uh, yes, Monsieur Richards, it arrived an hour ago."
"We have reserved our boardroom for you tomorrow morning at 9:00. We trust you will be available for an all-day meeting, Miss Thorne."
Flushing like a teenager who has just been asked to the senior prom, I nervously start twisting the phone cord around my right index finger. My heart starts pounding with a combination of anticipation and near-panic as I struggle to maintain a business-like and professional manner.
"Oh yes, Mr. Richards, I'll see you and your staff tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. sharp!"
I go through the motion of writing this down in my day-timer (as if I could ever forget such an appointment) and politely thank him for phoning before completing the call.
Kicking my legs high into the air like an out of control can-can dancer, I twirl myself around and around in my swivel office chair.
"Ooo la la, my dear Monsieur Richards, I think you have just hired yourself one hell of a marketing firm! Yaaaaaahoooooooooo!"
"You've done it girl – you made it to the top. You’ve just scored the biggest account in Monroe Marketing’s history. And the icing on the cake is that dear dominant boy-wonder, Jerry Richards, and his depraved young staff of gorgeous nymphomaniacs!"
An unexpected spill of my wetness gushes willy-nilly into my VS signature thong.
"Oh yea, uh-huh, I think I am going to like this new and improved Eesabella!"
Author: Isabella Thorne