Random futa things

by Jokiba

Just as the title says pure smut

101. Irina Blackwell

Irina Blackwell

Thalaxian

Summary:

Theo Brackley, twenty-five, gave up on his dream of being a writer. Yet at his place of work, the beautiful Irina Blackwell - his older, effortlessly charming boss - is the woman of his dreams. Theo dismisses the suggestion that Irina is not what she seems, and happily goes to bed with her, only to have his world blown open...

Notes:

A futa-on-male dub/noncon story. Futa is in a position of power, guy finds himself enjoying it. Later chapters may involve a degree of cuckolding, futa-on-female, impregnation (futa-on-female) and male submission/futadom*

Chapter 1: She's the Boss

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: She's the Boss

The dream died.

Writing was my passion, but it never amounted to anything. Reality has a nasty way of catching up to you, shredding your desires in its wake. That cycle of saving up and living off those savings gradually proved to be untenable and now, at twenty-five, I've taken up an office job.

It's better than that agri-shit I was doing before; better hours, better pay, better environment. At the least, I'm putting my word skills to use, writing documents, emails, editing the work of others, making sure everything is functional in the English language. It supports a moderately pleasant lifestyle, though I'm forced to rent and my romantic life is non-existent (though that's hardly novel).

I work at this new editing company in Windsor, a place called Blackwell Limited. It's a nice place, actually, and the people are largely young and personable as colleagues. There's a lot of benefits, meals out, holidays, all sorts; a friend of mine worked at a place like this – different industry – and I didn't really think it'd be attainable for me.

Yet here I am, four days a week, earning thirty grand a year. The dream died, but at least a kind of nihilism didn't pop-up in its stead.

The boss, Irina Blackwell – she founded the company using her father's wealth – is a bit of an odd-ball. Friendly, but dominant; forgiving, but cuts to the quick of things. We're all passingly scared of her, though fond as well. She pays well, treats us well, is generally a good person to work for. Has great expertise, is very intelligent, listens when others know better. Can be extremely terrifying, when heedlessly and thoughtlessly defied.

What surprised me first and foremost is her relative youth and, I suppose adjoined to that, her imposing beauty.

Irina – she's set on maintaining a first-name basis – is about a decade older than myself. The woman is six-foot-two, but not in the least bit mannish; her legs are long and thick at the thighs, with muscular calves; her hips wide, waist narrow, breasts enormous. Irina is dusky and exotic, with dark skin that's not quite black but too dark to be mere tan, though her eyes are these emerald green things, and she keeps her hair dyed crimson red. Neat eyebrows, rounded ears with hooped earrings.

She's well-toned, of athletic build, with prominent cheekbones and a pointed nose. Her full lips rarely lack a coating of glossy burgundy, her eyes are often ringed with black mascara, forming a vaguely Egyptian-style curl away from each corner. Black is her colour, and she's often in a long, form-hugging dress, at once all business and all beauty. She keeps her hair back in a great ponytail, often braided, that hangs down to the small of her back, above a plump and shapely backside.

I'll happily admit I've a thing for her. She's striking and her lovely, sonorous, commanding voice hits the ear just right. An older woman, a dominant one…but I know as well as anyone that this is both a fever-dream and a foolish notion. Even if she were interested, what would be gained? I disappoint her, and lose my job? Not saying I'm certain to – I'm plenty confident – but that's the reality, isn't it?

Don't mix work and pleasure.

But sometimes I do kind of wonder. She'll smile at me in this funny way that I don't think I've seen her do to anyone else; Irina will pass my workstation, pat my shoulders while standing behind me, and give me something like a quick massage.

'Lovely writing voice,' she'll say, almost purring. 'I always love your sentences, Theo.'

And then she'll leave, and I'll be…more than a little "woken up", so to speak.

The months pass and these kinds of things accelerate, lengthen. On occasion she'll brush my chest, reaching below my shoulder. She'll put her mouth beside my ear and speak gently – always pure encouragement, never anything lusty – but the way she does it provokes a shiver up my back and puts hairs on their ends.

'You should be careful,' Maddie says. About my age, the blonde woman is a friendly if too-formal colleague. 'She's not like most women, Theo.'

She says this on one of our bar outings – paid for by work – when the others have moved to the dance-floor (I always linger at the bar, or the table). I've never thought Maddie to be the sort to fancy me, and judging by her gaze, that's definitely not it.

'Is this about Irina?'

Maddie nods. 'Of course.' She glances around, finding our boss absent for the moment. Irina's at the bar, on the far side of the room, ordering herself another top-shelf martini. Satisfied, Maddie turns back to me. 'Look, Theo…word gets around, okay? Irina's…she's not normal .'

I find myself staring at the not-normal arse-cheeks of the tall dusky woman in the tight black dress. 'Yeah, I can see that.'

Maddie rolls her eyes. 'She's got a penis .'

Irina looks our way at this moment, just a brief glance, a surveying. Her eyes set upon me longest of all, and a fleeting smile graces her lovely mouth. Then she turns back to the barman, who places down her latest martini. I make it the fifth of the night, and yet she's not the least bit inebriated.

Maddie's words hit me like molasses, slow and engulfing. I turn to her and blink twice, then open my mouth to speak and find silence in my head.

'Are you jealous?' I say, from out of the nothingness. It's a stupid sentence.

She just sighs. 'Of her? No. Of you? God, no. Look, Theo, the way I hear it, she likes men like you – shorter than her, nerdy, malleable – and those guys tend to lose their jobs.

'They find her alluring, play along, get fucked by her huge penis and then, having been broken by her' – Maddie snaps her fingers – 'they're gone. That's just how it is, just how she works.'

As Irina makes her way back towards us from the bar, Maddie quickly reaches over and seizes my hand with hers. 'Look, you're a nice enough guy, and that's why I'm telling you this. She's not what she appears to be, and if you don't want what she "is", then you can't let her seduce you.' Maddie frowns, and pulls away. 'Just take these as words from a friend, okay?'

And like that, Maddie downs her gin and tonic and re-joins the dancers.

Women don't have penises. That's what I tell myself. And it's true, isn't it?

Maddie must be misinformed, or – despite her protestations – jealous . Jealous of Irina, that I'd find myself drawn to her, rather than to Maddie, whose beauty and poise and elegance are far lesser in scope. At least, that makes more sense than anything else right now.

A penis is a male reproductive organ, attached to testicles. Testicles produce male hormones, which produce masculine bodies. That's basic biology.

"Lady-boys" and the like exist, but you can kind of always tell, right? And when you can't, when the female hormones have gone on for so long, those "shemales" become a fair bit less virile, sexually-speaking.

Plus, the transformation is imperfect: the breasts are fakes, the curves are fakes, the whole thing is fake. The bone structure is obvious, for instance. The hips can't ever grow all that wide, assuming the hormones were introduced late enough for the dick to grow properly, and thus…

'Deep in thought?' Irina says, swallowing a sip of her martini. She cocks her head to one side, smirking faintly.

…how can my boss have a penis?

'Something like that,' I say, turning my attention to the beautiful, tall, imposing – undeniably, totally – woman before me.

Irina rests her elbows on the table and leans forwards, in the process squeezing her impressively mammoth breasts together. The V of her black dress is a perfect window of her feminine collarbone and that ridiculously soft-looking valley of dark mammary flesh. She flutters her long eyelashes over those emerald-green eyes, and runs a fingertip around the rim of her martini glass.

'Not a dancer,' Irina says. 'I can appreciate that. Nietzsche believed that a day passed without dancing was not a day lived, but then, I doubt he grasped the difficulty of prancing around when supporting a pair of K-cup breasts.'

She temptingly narrows her elbows, ballooning out the already enticing shapes of her heavy breasts. It's clear just from a glance that she has large areolas, because the very rims of those darker bumpy regions surrounding her nipples are visible where the V-cut of her dress passes alongside them.

How can those be fakes? They sag a bit, they have that proper shape to them, they show no signs of implants. I realise I'm staring, but Maddie put that thought into my head. Irina…is smirking at me. Does she even care?

'Like what you see?'

'Sorry, I–'

'Theo, I didn't wear this dress to be ignored .' Irina presses her breasts together with her hands, rolling them up and down against one another. 'Not that these are easily hidden, but I did hope to garner some male attention tonight. Judging by your reaction, I think I have it? You're especially cute when you're flustered, I must say.'

My cheeks are indeed red, and my heart is indeed thumping away. The notion that his sublimely gorgeous woman is anything but a sublimely gorgeous woman vaporises like water on hot asphalt.

'Sorry, I'm–'

'Stop apologising,' she says, playful yet assertive. 'Say what you mean, what you think. I certainly don't mind.' Irina takes a sip from her martini, and teases the skewered stuffed olives. She leans back into the plush leather, tall and resplendent, and rests a crooked elbow on the back of the seat, hand hanging idly. 'I'm not your boss today, just another woman. I like conversation, not hearing apologies!'

Sorry . But I stop myself. 'I like very much what I see,' I say, despite the heat of my cheeks, despite the fear of speaking out of turn. 'Are they real?'

Irina smirks, disarming and demonic with mischief. 'You wouldn't think so, would you?' My boss squeezes her arms in again, causing her mammoth breasts to bulge together.

'When I was fourteen I started developing, and before long I had bigger boobs than the biggest boys had biceps.' She chuckles at herself. 'Bit of a tongue-twister, accidentally, there. Anyway, in a roundabout way, yes . Yes, they're natural.'

'They're gigantic.'

'44K,' she says. 'The band size was lower, but I started weight-lifting around your age and the little bit of bulking up actually helped out.' Irina slaps the side of her arse. 'Bum, too, but that's another matter. You're a boob man, unless I'm mistaken.'

'Do you talk to all male employees like this?'

Irina smiles up half her face, a look of diabolic mischief. 'Only the ones I'd like to fuck later tonight.'

All the noise in the room seems to deafen, killed from afar, replaced by monotone white noise. I blink, and then again, and then several times more. My boss…Irina…did she say what I think she did?

'What?'

'Oh, don't be coy; I want to fuck you, cutie. You're just my type. It's the only reason I'm out tonight, to be honest. I've had my eyes on you since you were hired. Are your interested?'

Her nipples are sweet large points, little protrusions centred on those massive brown bumpy areolae. Fragrant warm breast-meat engulfs my face, my nose, my lips. Irina strokes my hair, pulls me deep into her cleavage, into a nursing position against her enormous K-cup tits.

I'm in a hotel room, on the big sofa, motorboating my boss.

'I'll be your mummy, baby,' she says, sweet and sonorous and breathy. 'Suck on mummy's big fat boobies.'

'Mhm.'

'Oh, fuck yes.'

'Mhm. Slurp.'

'Knead them, grope them…ugh, that's it, baby, suck out all that creamy milk.'

There's no milk. Nothing comes out of her huge, motherly tits. My boss, Irina Blackwell, is practically suffocating me with her breasts, laying across the sofa in a suggestive, seductive way. To glance up is to find her smirking, naughty face, beyond the dark mountain valley of her enormous chest.

Her black dress is half abandoned, hanging around her waist. My shirt's gone, my trousers and shoes as well, my socks and boxers remaining. I kiss the undersides of her breasts, kiss her flat toned stomach, the top of her bellybutton, and she grips me with gentle strength.

'No,' Irina says. 'Just my breasts, for now. Don't rush, baby.'

'But I–'

' No .' Her voice is firm. 'Up here. Kiss me, Theo.'

She aids my ascent, grabs the back of my head, and pulls me in. Her green eyes, dark lips, exotic features, are a whirl of beauty. Irina's lips are plump, vivacious, sweet-tasting, hinting of her martinis and something else besides. Our lips tangle and our tongues follow and it's the most moreish, passionate kiss I've ever experienced with a woman.

She gropes at me, claws at me, with a kind of possessed lust that hints at masterful practice. Irina moves her tongue around mine, fences with it, plays and teases my lips. I'll periodically open my eyes and find her watching like a predator, relishing the redness of my cheeks and the wetness of my eyes.

This woman, taller than me by a half-foot, is stronger than I'd have expected for her femininity and curvaceousness. Her bare arms flex as they fondle me, revealing toned muscles and shoulders. She easily twists us both around, placing me on my back in the corner of the L-shaped sofa.

My boss drops to her knees and smirks at me. 'Want to fuck my tits?'

I nod stupidly, twice and thrice, and rush for my underwear but she gets there first. Irina skilfully retrieves my erection from my boxers and plays with it before me, staring down at it like it's some miracle of the divine. It's not badly sized, but she's quite the large woman; in her large yet feminine right hand, it looks smaller than I'd like.

'Lovely,' she says, pulling down my foreskin. 'Let's play…hide and seek.'

I can only watch as she leans forwards, her immense breasts drooping before her. Irina scoops one up with each hand, overflowing the limits of her palms and fingers, and devours my cock with them. It disappears into a hot damp place, a heavenly place, without a hint of its presence protruding above the top of her 44K mammaries.

I've always, always wanted a titwank like this. My boss smirks at me, flicks her head to one side, and stares down at my concealed member. In the light, the intricate veins of her oversized tits are obvious, and her nipples poke through her fingers on either hand. Irina starts to milk me with her milkers, the tightness of her oppressive chest greater than I ever imagined it to be.

'Ughn, fuck.'

'Like that?'

'Y-eah.'

'Good,' she says, glancing at me. 'I love putting my girls to work in milking cute young guys like you.'

I twist and turn, hot with the pleasure. 'M-ilk a-way…ughn.'

She brings her breasts up and slams them down, up and down, up and down. They're so heavy and they slap loudly, wetly, where they smack against my belly and groin and thighs. It's musical, hearing that divine noise and knowing the source; watching the source, as the giant pair wobble and shudder and bounce.

What on earth did I do to deserve this? It's like being a damned king, with a woman as fine as Irina Blackwell. To think that I'm…that I'm going to be fucking her…it nearly sends me over the edge. My knees shudder and I almost buckle.

'Cum when you want,' she says. 'You're young, so we'll just push on, baby.'

'Irina…'

My load comes quickly, barely needing encouragement. The tightness of her breasts and the beauty of her body are more than enough; I shoot a respectable volume and fall back into the sofa, woozy with pleasure. She keeps stroking for a little longer, then finally sits back on her haunches and scoops my jizz up into her hands, watching it form strings between her fingers.

Irina sucks a finger clean before my eyes, and licks her lips suggestively. 'Lovely healthy young sperm,' she says. Another finger enters her mouth, comes away clean. 'Mhm. God, I love how fresh it tastes.'

For a moment she seems little more than a succubus, intent on consuming my penile leavings, not missing a drop or dribble. Watching her intensity is erotic as sin, flattering to behold; that my millionaire amazon fertility goddess of a boss is so hungrily eating my sperm is, quite honestly, a huge boost to self-esteem.

She proceeds to kiss and slurp on my balls, and I recline into a kind of fuzzy post-orgasmic bliss. I watch, through half-shuttered eyes, as her mouth and tongue so masterfully work on my nut sack and its contents. It's perfect, it's great, but there's a slow-building guilt; I'm doing nothing for her.

'Irina…can I go down on you?'

I rise, but she pushes me back with one hand. There's mischief in my boss's gaze. 'Not yet, baby,' she says. 'But…if you want to please me, perhaps you'll do what I want?'

Maddie's accusations come to mind, but I shift them away. She doesn't have a dick.

'What'd I have to do?'

The dark beauty smirks. 'Ever had a woman play with your butt?'

She doesn't have a dick. Right? 'Uh…no?'

Irina lifts her fingers, and makes a show of moving them. 'I'm pretty good at it, if you'd like to try. I love making young guys cum buckets from their arseholes alone, honey.'

I blush, harder than before. 'Isn't that a bit weird?'

'Not at all!' she says, rising. Her massive breasts jiggle and sway as she moves, and the hanging front of her dress prevents me from getting a good – nervous, stupid – look at her crotch. The tall beauty turns quickly and goes to her handbag. 'I've got some lube, if you want to try? We'll stop the moment you want to, okay? Pretty please?'

What's the harm, I guess? I'll admit, I've always wondered. 'Where?'

She gestures to the bed. 'Go lay down on your front.' Irina searches her bag. 'I'll be with you shortly.'

I nod, and rise, and obey her. A moment after dropping down on my front, the bed shifts as she comes to sit beside me. With surprising strength, Irina pulls me closer to the edge, then rests a warm soft hand on my right buttock. She squeezes, and runs her thumb down the crack, chuckling sonorously.

'Let's get you ready.'

A plastic crack, and a cool oil spreads down between my cheeks. I gasp as she teases at my arsehole with a finger, tracing out the entrance through steady circling strokes. The tip pokes, prods, and then slips inside. Instinctively I clench, and she chuckles.

'Tight little bottom on you, baby.'

'Y-eah.' I glance over my shoulder, meeting her smiling beauty. God, she's divinely attractive, even dishevelled. Still, half her dress remains. 'Why aren't you naked?'

Irina slips her finger inside, up to the knuckle. The tip reaches a certain responsive place and brushes against it, provoking a shudder through me. 'In time, honey, in time. Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise.'

Oh, no. 'S-urprise?'

'Oh, not those rumours.' She rolls her eyes. 'Nothing so sordid. Isn't mystery hotter, Theo? The slow reveal?'

'Ugh.' The spot she hits has my cock throbbing again. 'Y-eah. I guess. What are you doing?'

Irina slips in a second finger, and scrapes against that spot. 'Playing with your prostate. You're loosening up, but fingers aren't quite long enough.' She chuckles. 'Perhaps next time, we'll try a toy.'

'Next time?'

'Well, if you want to see me again. Privately , that is.'

'Y-eah. I do. I've…ughn. Jesus. I wanted this since we met.'

She flutters her eyes at me. 'Me too, baby. Me too.' A third finger. 'Almost there…you're very receptive.'

'Ugh. Thanks?'

Irina chuckles. 'Just rest your head, handsome. Let mummy do her work.'

Something about her reassuring voice, so lovely and sensual, urges me to obey her. I rest my cheek on my forearms, shutting my eyes, feeling the warmth of her fingers as they drag back and forth against an extremely pleasant place. Each brush provokes a pulse of tension, a building in my loins.

The resulting orgasm is blissful, like no other. It wracks me, destroys me, obliterates sense for a long moment. It's longer, sweeter, an expansive joy that spreads out from my backside to my front, spilling my seed but not diminishing my erection. I cry out, or must do, but it gets lost in the quaking ecstasy.

'Let it out, honey. Let it all out.'

'Ugh. Shit.'

'Good boy. Good, sexy, lovely boy.'

Irina must rise, but I'm too distracted to notice. In my periphery she drops the dress, straddles my backside, draws me closer to the edge of the bed. Something hot and heavy rests between my cheeks, and my beautiful boss leans down beside my ear. Those full weighty breasts press down warmly against my back, nipples brushing pleasantly. She kisses my cheek, breathes against my ear.

'Those rumours get around, sadly,' she says. 'It's good that you ignored them, though. Too many men get scared, for nothing.'

'Y-eah…they're absurd.'

The boss pushes down my shoulders. 'Oh, I wouldn't say that.' That heat, that heaviness, slides backwards and pushes into my crack. 'Just that I'm glad you ignored them. Because I've wanted to do this since I laid eyes on you, sweetie.'

It pushes, that presence, and splits my arsehole. Lubed and loosened, it doesn't hurt, but the radiant heat, the powerful solidity, makes me arch my back as it goes deeper and deeper. The shape pulses, angrily, needily, and it easily brushes against the entirety of that zone, forcing me to exhale sharply.

'Ugh. God, you're tight.'

'Irina…'

'Let it happen, baby. Let it happen.'

'Ughn, let…what?'

I glance back, and I can't believe it. No way. It's hard to make out, but she's moving her hips, thrusting , and with each thrust and withdraw, the sensation plumbs the depths of my body and retreats. Below her flat belly, her toned abdomen forms a vague V that meets her pubic mound, an absolute jungle of oily black hairs. And below that, barely visible, on her back-thrusts, is something dark and thick and clearly very, very long.

She leans down on me, pushing me flat against the bed, and grunts. 'Take it, baby. Ughn. Fuck yes.'

All I can do is stare at the wall, perplexed. Her mammoth breasts are dragging back and forth against my back, sweaty and amazing; her wonderful lips kiss my head, brush my ear; her… penis ? It can't be, but…her penis excavates me so deep that the prostate sensation is building again. Building like a volcano, doomed to erupt.

'Ugh…you've…you're joking.'

'No, honey. No joke.'

'But…b-ut…'

'Shush,' she says, kissing my ear. 'Just enjoy it. Let nature take its course.'

Her powerful hips go faster, faster. The warmth of her thighs, the fatness of her hips, slams against my arse and the backs of my legs. Wiry damp pubes brush the cleft of my butt, skewered as it is by what can only be a penis . A human penis , but how? 'Ughn.' I…why does it feel so good ?

No. Not just a penis. A penis, I can explain away. A dildo, a trick. Two heavy shapes slap down, sweaty and warm, against my balls. She's got balls , testicles . No strap-on does that, right? I mean, I don't know, but–

'Ugh. Shit.'

A panic sets in, and I try to throw her off, but God, she's so strong! Irina holds me down, gyrating, thrusting. She's slamming me, ploughing me, fucking my arse. I'm being raped, but…but my body…

I orgasm, again. The throes of pleasure, the perfect glory of that anal orgasm, blows my brains and my balls. All I can do is moan, grunt, bestial and beaten; Irina continues her efforts, slow and powerful, masterfully casual in the way she drives her hot meat back and forth between my cheeks.

'Good little slut,' she says, chuckling. The boss kisses my cheek. 'You can't deny it, baby. Ughn, if anything, you should be thanking me.'

No ejaculation, no act, has ever been so blissfully ecstatic. The way it radiates outward, centred on her thick length, that metal-hard heat that drives in and out, in and out. My eyes roll back as my semen spills onto the bed, wets the underside of my belly. Big balls slap against mine, big breasts slide back and forth across my back. It's such a paradox, such a confusion.

Should I love this, or hate it?

When some window of clarity returns I try – with greatly diminished strength – to push her away. Irina chuckles, effortlessly holds me down, and goes balls-deep inside me. Her nuts must be huge, the way they swallow up mine, engulfing them. Her length must be enormous, stupid, unreal. She's so thick, so hot, so powerful.

'Y-ou're raping m-e.'

'If that's what it takes,' she says. Irina leans close, brushing my ear with warm wet lips. 'Do you have any idea what it's like, to be a dominant heterosexual woman, with a body like mine? Ughn. It's hell, honey.' She gyrates her hips, withdraws and slams, hard. Her wonderfully bizarre flesh bounces against mine. 'Do you have any idea what it's like–ugh–to get naked with a perfect guy and have him turn and run away in disgust?'

The pleasure is building, anew. What the fuck? It's like I've got no refractory period, like I can just keep going. 'Ugh. S-top. P-lease.'

'No, I won't. It's not hurting you, you enjoy it, you're just so close-minded.' She draws back, and slams. 'You're going to–ugh–take it. Just like you're going to cum, again. Just like you're–ughn–going to take my load.'

'S-top…p-lease…ughn.'

But she goes on. I cum, again. Twice more. The second, the more powerful, comes as she does. Irina buries herself, hilts herself in me, and gyrates. A series of powerful contractions rock her body, and she gasps and groans. 'Ughn, bitch. Take it…take it all!'

The fat head of her member bulges, and a flood of heat spills out into my rear. My eyes go wide and the orgasm hits, mutualised with hers. We both grunt, gasp, but mine's the longer. A hot weightiness rolls about inside me, and Irina chuckles. She kisses my cheek, and straightens up. 'Cream-filled, honey. Just how I like my desserts.'

She spins me over and penetrates me again, this time in missionary. I reach to push her back but she braids her fingers with mine, leans across me, pressing her full breasts against my chest. My rapist forces her lips onto mine and she tastes so good, and she's so drop-dead gorgeous, and we're snogging as she pummels my ecstatic rear.

I lose myself in the pleasure, in the luxuriousness of her sweat, her perfume. She tastes good, smells good, feels good. My tongue rolls with hers as I cum, again. I'm not sure if she orders it, or some dirty instinct has me do it, but I wrap my legs around her back as she unloads, again, and pumps me full to the brim with hot, heavy semen.

'You did want to go down on me, didn't you?'

'Y-eah.'

Some sordid intermission has her sitting on my face, her simply enormous balls resting on my forehead. I must be mad, must be insane, because she's got the most wonderful vulva, the sweetest, most fragrantly musky pussy. I massage her enormous, hand-swallowing buttocks, grab her hips, bury my mouth against her snatch with reckless, pleasure-addled abandon.

The amazing, dominant, impossibly sexy man-woman grinds against my face, forcing me to breathe in some confusing mixture of vulvic musk and scrotal stench, which even in the latter case is more feminine than I'd expect, despite her balls making mine seem small. The huge grapefruit-sized lumps bounce against my face, strangely pleasant.

'Eat mummy's pussy, baby. Swallow down all those tasty juices.'

'Mhm. Schlup.'

'Ughn, such a good little bitch.'

'Schlup. Slurp.'

'Ugh, how'd those nuts feel, honey?' She chuckles. 'Bigger than yours?' I say nothing, and she laughs all the more. 'Give me your hands, boy. Do as I say; I'm your boss, aren't I?'

But any resistance on my part is futile. Irina is strong, too strong. She clutches my wrists to brings my hands up to her front and secures them around something hot, thick, bulging, damp. I shudder, and she drags my hands up and down, up and down. This is so awful, so wrong, but…I'm so hard.

It feels… good .

'How's that, baby? How's a real cock feel?'

All I can do is eat her cunt. 'Mhm. Slurp.' She tastes good, smells great. Salty, musky, a little sweet. Her lips are neat, a bit puffy, enough to nibble and suckle but not too much. There's no hair here, unsurprisingly; I keep brushing it with my hands, however, making clear where it persists.

'My tits don't produce milk, but another pair of fat saggy things do .' I shudder, panicking as she slides herself backwards, dragging her ridiculously fat bollocks down across my face, marking me with stinking scrotal musk. I gasp for air as her nuts drop down below my chin, and she chuckles as she bounces them against it. 'Seeing as you're a little coward, and this is our one night in heaven…we'd better make it count.'

The powerful futanari forces my hands down against the bed, and angles herself in a terrifying manner. I cannot find words, exposed as I am to the sight ahead; Irina's penis is something insane, fat and veiny, chocolate-dark and glistening, born of a jungle of oily black pubes and ending in an enormous purplish helmet the size of an apple, opulent and proud. It must be as thick as my wrist, her shaft, and as long as my forearm. Over a foot, easily.

'P-lease, d-on't.'

But she grinds the slick tip against my face, across my lips. It's salty, musky, bitter-smelling, nostril-flaring. Irina beams down at me, smug and filthy, gorgeous but terrible. She shifts her hips, and pokes the fat glans between my lips. I keep my jaw shut, but only just. She's strong, and her cock is like solid steel.

'Open wide,' she says. All I can do is stare cross-eyed at the evil, brutally fat helmet pressed against my mouth. Somehow the gorgeous woman, hourglass-figured, massive-breasted, is irrelevant. ' Open .'

'N-o.'

But it gives her the shot. Idiot. And then her fat glans is inside, so thick and strong that my teeth give way to it and my lips seize upon it. 'Ugh. God, I'm going to feed you such a big load.'

Her hot bell-end leaks and her precum is…Jesus, this is so wrong. It's…it's tasty . Her cock is tasty . Salty, and faintly bitter. I'm paralysed, but she's happy to do it all; Irina leans forwards on her knees, holding my hands above my head against the bed and slowly thrusts, using my mouth like a fleshlight.

I can't see her face beyond her big sagging breasts and all the world is her perfect dusky body, divinely feminine but for this trinity of strange shapes that are defiling and soon to utterly dirty my mouth. Struggling proves useless, again. My cock is stupidly hard, again.

Hers runs back and forth, pushing against my throat each time but never entering, so fat and full that its contours are felt across my tongue even without movement. It's like a plum, yet spongier, smoother, and very hot. All I can taste is her precum, strong yet pleasant, as it lubes up my mouth.

'Ughn, remember to swallow, honey. There's…ugh, there's going to be a lot. I'm so horny right now, and it's been too long. God, I've needed this.'

'Numph. Numph!'

But my protests are futile. My rapist futa boss just thrusts, slow and steady, inevitable and unavoidable. Her helmet slides back against my lips, its thick rear ridges momentarily bulging them out and its eyelet painting my tongue with tasty dick juice. Then it slides forwards again, grinding her frenulum over my taste-buds, and urging against the opening to my gullet.

I can't even meet her gaze, can't even move my hands. All I can do is shut my eyes and wish it were over, wish I were elsewhere. Her breathing quickens, and those fat drooping nuts contract a little. Oh God no.

'Fuck. Ugh. Shit.'

She pulls back, planting the tip as far against my lips as it will go, but I can't free myself of it. Her glans bulges, and spits. Hot cream floods my mouth, ropes of seed, lumpy and knotty, buttery thick. Saltiness prevails, edged in tangy bitterness, rich and musky and powerful. Semen. This is semen.

My boss's semen.

I can't swallow, because it'd be disgusting, but she produces so much. It's a flood, a pint of jizz, baptising my virgin tongue and filling my mouth to the point my cheeks bulge out and the stuff shoots out of my nose, stinging and making my eyes water.

'Swallow, slut. Swallow mummy's milk. Ughn.' She shudders, and arches her back. 'Swallow my sperm, honey. Fill your belly with my seed!'

So I do, despite myself. I gulp, and slurp, and swallow. Hot thick buttery cream, so thick it takes great effort, but it rolls down my throat, into my belly. Her sperm, her semen, going down inside my gut. She must be so virile…there must be so many little swimmers, gene-carriers, filling my stomach.

Her salty semen, tangy and faintly bitter and rich and musky, continues to flood my mouth. Irina knows what she's doing, keeping her glans where it is; she wants me to taste her, to taste her dirtiest, most carnal of fluids. And I am. And despite myself, despite how wrong it is, she tastes good . Her hot, ropey, lumpy load, packed with impregnating sperm, tastes good .

'Mhm.' The noise is shameful, but instinctual. 'Gulp.'

She chuckles. 'I bet, baby. You've got good taste, and I taste good.'

Another few gulps, and she pumps a fat finale straight onto my tongue. The ropey load clings to my teeth, gets under my tongue, joins together the roof of my mouth and my taste-buds. Irina draws back and I breathe in fresh air, shamefully scraping around my mouth to swallow her tasty nut-milk.

I barely have time to make sense of it before she draws back and sits herself on my throbbing cock, driving my six-incher into the tightest, wettest, most incredible pussy I've ever experienced. 'Ugh.' I almost choke on the ball of seed accumulating, scraped from my teeth and from below my tongue. 'Fuck.'

'A reward,' she says, winking at me. Sweaty, gorgeous, she's every bit as terrifying. 'For good behaviour.'

She puts her hands on my chest and rides me, grinding her enormous hips down against me, bouncing her sweaty hanging nuts off my belly, her yet-turgid cock jiggling away. I can't manage to get every little rope free from the nooks and crannies, and her sublimely tight pussy bites down on me like a vice. She looks absurd, a fusion of male parts and the ultimate female form, but everything about this is absurd. It's so wrong, yet so undeniably right.

She moans, and grunts, and squeezes tight. 'Ughn. You're so thick, honey. Such a thick little cock you have.'

"Little" isn't ideal, but I'm clearly enough. Maybe a woman could fake it, but this one, a futanari…there's going to be a definite end, again. Filth that I am, some part of me wants that, to feel her seed splash against me. Some part of me wants to stick out my tongue, to taste her healthy sperm. It's so wrong, all this. So dirty, gay, weird. Above all, confusing.

'Irina…'

She smiles at me, eyes aflame. 'Let it out, baby. Fill mummy's womb with your soldiers. Ughn.' She throws her head back. 'You've tasted mine, I've tasted yours…such a good boy, Theo. Such a good boy. You've, ugh, earned this.'

'Irina…'

I must cum, and she must. She splatters my chest, and I get lost in the tight welcoming loveliness of her cooch. Whatever dregs remained in my balls, she steals with her succubus body. Yet her load is no smaller than the last, or the ones before last. My chest, my chin, my face receives a voluminous warm covering.

And she's not done. As exhaustion seizes she gets between my legs again, pulls one of my legs up between her wonderful breasts, kisses my foot, slams my arsehole anew. I cum, again, from my prostate.

The world, naturally, fades.

In the morning I wake sticky, tasting salty bitterness.

Irina Blackwell is gone, but our actions are far from forgotten. My first instinct is to sob, to shudder, but I'm so confused. It was rape, yes, but why did I enjoy it so much? It wasn't even mere physiological reactions. I wanted to be with that woman, only…I didn't imagine she could have a cock . A penis .

There's a note on the table, the bill for the room, already paid. "Check your phone", it says at the bottom. I've been blown-up with a series of texts from my boss. The texts begin with: "If you plan to go to the police – as more than a few of you losers have tried – then you'll be sorely disappointed; my body is an open secret, as is my taste in partners. They won't believe you, and my lawyers are better.

"If you can't handle enjoying what we did – and you very clearly enjoyed all of it – then feel free to resign, because I'm not going anywhere. I'd imagine your colleagues saw you leave with me, and they'll know what's transpired. If, somehow, you can manage to swallow your pride – recall that you swallowed mine – then I have no misgivings. I will, however, forever see you as the bottom slut you were last night.

"If instead you want to be honest with yourself – you'd be the first – then come to my office on Monday; we'll talk about "job" prospects. I'm a top, and you're a bottom, Theo. If you can accept that, we can have quite a lot of fun together.

"Regards, Irina; your boss, your mummy, your mistress."

I'm left trembling, confused. The inescapable truth is that I've been raped, orally defiled and anally fucked, by my gorgeous and somewhat terrifying boss.

In the mirror, the damage is more obvious. My body is stained with seed, even so far as to have splattered my face and chest. I'm dirtied with dead sperm, and a great deal of it has dried around my mouth, and between my butt cheeks and thighs. I blush at the sight, ashamed and yet aroused; I'm already erect, standing to attention, over the merest idea.

It's not wrong to be gay, but I'm not . And how can this be anything but? Worse, how can I be this woman's pet, her toy, as she seems to desire of me? I stink of her musky loads, a perverse painting, like she's claimed me. How can I just go into work on Monday, look her in the face, and pretend away how strong and virile she was, how weak and submissive I was?

How can I look at Maddie, and realise that she knows? Jeez, no wonder the others left. It's humiliating. If I'd done this out of pure desire, sure, but I didn't. One thing led to another, and then I was being raped. All power was gone, all put into her hands. Her strong, womanly hands, that held me down as she claimed her prize over and over.

I sit down by the bed, and shiver.

What the hell am I going to do?

Chapter 2: Swallowing Pride

Summary:

Theo is living in the consequences of his night with his gorgeous futanari boss, Irina. Confronted with the shame of his situation, and the lack of sympathy from his colleague Maddie, Theo contemplates quitting. But Irina offers him an alternative, at a much higher salary. All he has to do is swallow both his pride, and hers...

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Swallowing Pride

Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Sunday.

The structure of a week. Of any week. The most daunting obstacle in the world, between a life-changing event and the end of life. Last week I was myself, as I knew myself, as resolute about my sexuality, my pride, my character, as I could be. I'd spent my teenage years as a loser, blossomed late, grown happy with myself.

And then on Friday night, Saturday morning, Irina took that all away.

I wake on Monday morning, stare at myself in the mirror, and don't really recognise the man in the reflection. His eyes move too much, his mouth has no smile. I look at him and wonder: how could he enjoy being her bitch? That he couldn't resist, that she was too strong, that it happened – I can stomach all of that.

But to enjoy the feeling of being taken, penetrated? To appreciate the sensation of her penis – her penis – in his mouth, and to actually moan when her semen spilled across his tongue? To lay back and hope for another spray of cum, jizz, spooge fresh from her giant balls?

The man is the reflection, the reflection the man. I see those things, hate them, and hate myself. I've never enjoyed sex half as much as I did on Friday night, Saturday morning. I've never been the girl, the bottom, the receiver, but I loved it.

I don't want to be him, but the reflection is the man.

Maddie gives me a look when we pass in the corridor. An "I told you so" kind of face. Does mine give it away, or am I just assuming? It feels like the world knows what I've done. People I don't know by their first names eye me as I go to my desk in the secluded part of the office. Like they're watching a dead man, off to the gallows. Like this is to be my last day, or one of the last. They've seen it before, they know it.

Work, work, work, work, work. At lunch, whispers. They all regard me, even when they don't. The brain works like that, it plays up anxieties, it rewrites conversations not fully heard. Work, work, work, work, work. People look at me like they never did, seeing what they never saw before. They see the dried semen around my mouth, on my lips, in my hair, across my face. They see Irina's handiwork and see this new Theo, this broken Theo, this lesser Theo. A self that lacks his former confidence, who says little.

Work, work, work, work, work.

Irina Blackwell makes the rounds, divine as always. Her long legs are clad in thin stockings that run beneath a knee-length skirt, ending in large feet that tuck into elegant black heels. Her dark skin contrasts her emerald eyes. That braid of hers droops down behind her back, swaying faintly as she struts.

She doesn't so much as look my way all throughout her comments and remarks and little bursts of small-talk. And then warm strong gentle hands are on my shoulders and sweet wet breath brushes my ear and she says, 'Oh, honey, I've never seen you so sad.' Irina squeezes me. 'You can always come to my office. I'll put a smile on your face.'

I shiver as she leaves, my cock pressing against the front of my dark trousers. This is it, isn't it? Decades of this, of these remarks, of these little private suggestions. It's not enough to humiliate me. She needs me broken, or gone. This is my life.

If I cave and flee, she wins. If I stay, at the very least I'm holding my own. Don't answer her teasing, don't get angry, don't retaliate, just ignore it. Ignore, ignore, ignore. And it makes, for the most part, the first week bearable.

For the most part.

'Is it true?' Maddie says in a private moment, on our weekly Friday outing. 'Did you sleep with Irina?'

It catches me off-guard somehow, because despite knowing that they know, I wondered if it was all in my head. It's not.

'That's a bit personal, isn't it?'

But it's a stupid, leading phrase. Maddie smirks, makes a funny shape with her mouth, and sips her vodka lemonade.

'I'm surprised you're still here.'

A sentence sharper than any knife.

'What?'

'I mean, didn't you always act straight?'

'I am straight.'

She rolls her eyes. 'Yeah, and Irina doesn't have a dick,' Maddie says, sips again. 'Are you seeing each other now?'

'What? No.'

'Damn. I owe Chrissy 20, thanks .' Maddie sighs. 'I'll save you some hassle with the others: did you swallow? Did she cum inside you? Did you ask for it? I mean, you're still here, so I guess you enjoyed yourself–'

'Were you placing bets?'

A guiltiness flashes across her pretty features. 'Just answer the questions.'

'You're being a cunt, man.'

'Oh, fuck off. Imagine being such a loser with women that you let a freak with a cock fuck you! That's you, Theo. Don't you have any pride? You won't own what you did, and you expect us to accept that?' She rolls her eyes dramatically, and gulps down her drink. 'You're so full of shit. Just don't quit before the end of the month, I have 100 riding on that.'

She goes to leave, and I grab her arm. 'Maddie, she raped me.'

Sympathy, fleeting and little, lights her eyes. 'Why haven't you gone to the police?'

'She's got lawyers. Good ones. I'd lose.'

'You're actually kind of sick, Theo.'

'What?'

She wriggles from my loose grip and stares daggers. 'Not only won't you own what you did because you're regretting it after the fact, but you'd use rape as a fucking weapon. Fuck you! My sister got raped by her boss – really raped – and she reported it, and nobody fucking believed her because she was a woman .' Maddie shakes her head, shuddering. 'You're a man . The only reason you wouldn't be believed is because you're lying . Go fuck yourself!'

And like that, she leaves me. When the others broach conversation or when I try to speak to them it's like I'm a zoo animal, a mere specimen. It's those questions, seeking confirmation of bets they made. Like I'm not a friend, less than a colleague. And when I refuse to speak or when I steer the chat to ordinary topics, they get annoyed and leave, until before long – early in the evening – I'm left alone, appearing outside how I feel within.

I can't really make sense of it. It's clear, whatever else, that I've no comfortable future here. Maddie says things and looks to me, and faces darken. Slowly, they're going to hate me. Maybe if I'd started with the rape thing, maybe then, but her point remains: why haven't I gone to the police?

Simply because Irina told me not to, warned me not to?

Of course she would do that: she's the rapist .

I go into the dark garden, drink in hand for courage, and whip out my phone.

'I wouldn't,' Irina says. She's there, tall and terrible, her form-hugging black dress at once beautiful and dreadful.

'You don't know what I'm doing.'

'Calling the police.' She steps past me into the light, illuminating her gorgeously sultry features. The tall dominant woman – futanari – drops to the bench beside me, sitting beneath the overhead light. She smirks, long fingers clasped around a Martini. 'I overheard you and Mads. By all means go ahead, but I'll take it as slander.'

'But you did. You raped me.'

She shrugs, her shoulders bared, muscular and beautiful. 'Yes, and like I said, nobody cares. I did what I had to do. You needed a seeing to. I opened your eyes.'

'You ruined my life,' I say. 'I don't know who I am. My colleagues whisper about me, Maddie hates me, and in all this, you say smarmy bullshit like that.'

'Quit, then. Run away, like all the other little cowards.' She rolls her eyes, sips her Martini. 'God, you're such a pathetic bunch, you losers who ride my cock and love it, but can't accept what future it paints. Your masculinity is so fragile, so tied up in whose sperm ends up in whose mouth.'

'You forced yourself on me!'

'Because you'd never have done it willingly,' Irina says, and sighs. 'Gay men find me repulsive, and so do straight men. Straight men at least get further. Gay men would never dare.' She takes a fairly hefty gulp. 'You want to be the man, the one who takes ownership, who gives his cock, who is in control. But with me, honey, you'll never be that, and it scares you. With me, your arse is a pussy, and your mouth is a cocksleeve. You just don't have the balls to admit that you enjoyed the change of pace, same as every other bloody man, because the lot of you are cowards.'

I find myself transfixed in the gloom by her exotic darkness and her long lashes, her high cheekbones and plump lips, her endless womanly curves, those lengthy legs and thick thighs, that fusion all-around of power and femininity. One of the most beautiful women in the world, but for one feature awry. One of the loneliest, as well, I can only imagine.

And somehow, for a half-heartbeat, I sympathise with my rapist.

'I like this job,' I say, leaning against the wall. 'You pay well, and there's variety, and the four-day weeks are nice.'

Irina Blackwell smirks. 'You shouldn't have mentioned rape.'

'I shouldn't have.' I sigh. 'But you shouldn't have raped me.'

At length, she says, 'What will you do?'

'If I stay, I've lost my colleagues, and I can't imagine you'll stop teasing me. If I go, I'm unlikely to find so well-paying a job that has the same benefits.'

My boss sits herself down on the bench seat of one of the wooden tables, her back against the table, one leg crossed upon the other. She sips her Martini, plays with the skewered olives. When she looks to me, her eyes are alive with devilishness.

'There's a third option,' Irina says.

'What?'

'A promotion. A senior editor. On the top floor, with your own office. Seventy-kay a year.'

My eyes widen. 'Really?'

She nods. 'Really. But there is one string.'

Of course there is. 'Which is?'

'I want you to suck my cock,' my boss says. 'For real, this time. On your knees, between my legs. I want you to look up at me, to look into my eyes, to do it lovingly and slowly, and I want to cum in your mouth. I want you to swallow.'

Blushing, I shudder. Her face, her tone, are serious. 'Irina.'

'You've done it before. Do it again.'

'You forced me.'

'Yes, well, this one is optional.'

Is it really? What a choice! To do something I don't want to repeat, or to restructure my life in such a way as to attempt – attempt at best – to recreate the current success I've found here. As hot as Irina is, as easy she is on the senses, I tremble to glance at her crotch.

Something about the thought is, despite being familiar, yet-foreign.

'What if I let you fuck me again?'

She clicks her teeth playfully, shakes her head. 'No. Where's the fun in that? I do all the work, and you get the reward?' Another shake of the head. Her smile is beautiful, deadly. 'I want you to worship me, Theo. Like I'm your goddess. Like all that matters is making me happy.'

My body betrays me. Cheeks flush with heat, a shiver goes down me. I clench and unclench my fists, not in anger, but to contain this surge of…lust? Something about her words, about the offer, prompts a war between that part of me that is so eager to maintain its clear grasp of the world – straight, into women, and not women with dicks – and that part of me that is clearly bestial and depraved.

'You promise? I do this and you won't turn it back on me?'

Irina extends her left hand. 'Shake on it? You can even record my promise on your phone, if you like?' She smiles lustily. 'You're wasted down there with the ordinary lot anyway. I see this as a win-win. Senior editor but a decade early. What do you say?'

I dispense with taking her hand. 'Fine. I trust you. I'll come to your office tomorrow.'

She parts her legs, drawing her dress wide. Its sides are open at her legs, the central strip of dark cloth falling between her thighs, revealing in the tricksy light a prominent shape at her crotch.

'Here's fine,' Irina says, smirking. I stare, because what else can I do? 'Well?'

'We're in public!'

She shrugs. 'So?'

'Someone will see?'

'I don't care,' Irina says. 'Do you want that promotion or not?'

I do. I do want it. I don't want to suck cock to get it, but I do want the promotion, might go so far as to say I need it. And Irina, in truth, is at least beautiful, clean, nice-smelling. We're slightly round the corner from the door, out of the way for the moment, with nobody to bother us. I hurriedly move around her, eyeing the entrance to the garden.

She watches me, smirking lustily as I drop down between her legs, kneeling upon slightly wet patio slabs. She's evil, sure, but she's hot as hell. Giant breasts, fat thighs, long legs, heavy hips. I glance again at the entrance, then move aside the frontal drape of her dress, pushing it over a leg. Beneath it are a lacy black pair of panties running in a V up to the arches of her hips, barely containing her monstrously large male genitals.

'You're so slutty,' Irina says. 'Sucking my cock for a promotion.'

I ignore her, tugging at her panties. They roll down, come away easily with some shifting on her part, releasing the beast between her legs. A dark cock, semi-flaccid, flops out over the edge of the bench. Two grapefruit-sized balls droop behind it, bouncing in the confines of their smooth sack, hanging erotically low. She stinks muskily, potent, salty, hints of hidden pussy wafting up to join with the masculine femininity of her cock and balls.

'Jesus,' I say under breath, a deer caught in headlights as I behold her.

Irina chuckles. 'Put your hands on me. Treat me gently, honey.'

I glance up at her and tremble. This is inevitable. This is unavoidable. Looking back at those oil-black pubes, that thick flaccid dick, I mentally prepare myself. It'll be okay. It wasn't the worst thing. At least she's Irina. At least she's hot. At least I'll get a promotion out of this.

Taking her in hand, I'm struck by the warmth of her body, the heat of her junk. Irina exhales softly, and sips her Martini. Her huge dark cock, eight inches flaccid, is fat and thick even in its current softness. Jesus Christ, I'm touching her penis again, and this time in the grips of uncomfortable lucidity.

It's difficult not to stare. Part of me wants to call it impressive, honestly. I get both of my hands – not small, but she's only going to get bigger – around the midsection of her schlong, and begin to slowly stroke.

'It's not a handjob, honey,' Irina says, a playful sting to her voice. 'Hoping to get me most of the way without using that handsome mouth?'

'I just, uh–'

Irina chuckles warmly. 'Bury your face in mummy's fat nuts,' she says. 'I want you to stink of me, my good slutty boy.'

The suggestion widens my eyes, makes my head spin. At once perverse and awful, at once bothersome in how readily it arouses me. My cock twitches. My heart skips a beat.

It's not worth commenting. Not worth inevitably being mocked, or made more a fool of. I glance sheepishly at the door and then resign myself to this fate, ducking my head down beneath the weighty shaft I lift upright with both hands.

Irina's sagging scrotum of hairless dark flesh hangs down low beneath her member, drooping over the lip of the bench. Her right testicle is slightly lower than the other, and each ball is a massively fat shape that bulges in the sack. Massive nuts, like balled fists much larger than my own. Much larger than I expected balls could even be.

'Bury my face in them?' I say, pausing.

'Treat them as you would my breasts.' She sips her Martini, makes a pleased sound of quenched relief. 'Motorboat them. Suckle them. Kiss them. Play with them. Tell my body that it needs to get ready to load that cute tummy of yours with my strong genes, sweetie.'

The language is powerful. It has this heady effect on me, playing at some primal part of me that tends towards submission instead of dominance. Some part of me that, before Friday, I didn't know existed.

There's no use delaying. I shut my eyes and dive in, the androgynous musk of her loins filling my nostrils. Body-heat swamps my face as the tip of my nose meets her smooth scrotum, and her two hefty testicles enclose about my face under the purview of gravity and the slight shifting of her body.

As much as I try, as much I wish it were not so, this isn't terrible. It's not even bad. It's not even neutral. It's…something about her smell, the warmth of this beautiful dominant woman's body – balls or otherwise – provokes something carnal in me. Out of necessity, I let that part of me that is so eager to sink into depravity take control.

The skin tastes faintly salty, but that's all. Irina makes a sound almost like a purr above me, and pats the back of my head. 'Good boy. Make them all wet. Don't be shy now.'

My mouth makes crude, guilty noises as I apply my lips and tongue to her scrotum. Smacking sounds, wet sounds, as I trace out the shape of her heavy hangers with my tentative tongue. Such big shapes in so loose and smooth a sack, each a firm and plump vaguely egg-shaped thing. My mouth is all this slight saltiness of her sweat, and my nose is packed with this potent musk of her dual sexes.

'Nurse on them,' Irina says, tussling my hair. 'Suckle on them, sweetie.'

I part my lips and try my best, but there's no way I'm getting one in my mouth. I settle for – and Irina's grunt of pleasure suggests approval – getting my lips as best around the left one as I can, sucking on the folds of loose skin, tongue going back and forth to massage the firm shape within it.

She's growing firm, large, in my hands above. The powerful pulse of her heart, channelling strength into that most intimidating of organs, reminds me of where this is going. Of what must occur here, on my knees, for the sake of a half-decent future.

I hear myself whimper faintly, chancing a glance up. The shape beyond her swaying bollocks is immense, easily as long as my forearm, as thick as my wrist. Irina somehow, again, inspires that strange confusion of wielding such easily perfected femininity and the terrifying suggestion that in terms of masculinity, she has me severely outclassed.

To reduce myself to just a cock, just balls, is disheartening, and yet Irina's are the superior specimens. My boss, tall and dominant and gorgeous, manages somehow to soothe that part of me that rebels. As if…as if it's right , for me to be doing this.

'I don't feel much in the way of your mouth, baby,' she says. 'Distracted, are we?'

In all my staring, I've come to a halt. 'Sorry, I just–'

'Don't apologise with words, Theo. Kiss my balls. It's them you're abandoning, after all.'

In any sane world I'd reject all of this, turn my back on it, but I actually start kissing them, left then right, then back again. Kiss. Smooch. Kiss. Smooch. Delicate, which I justify as logical – balls are fragile, in a sense – but it feels like dishonesty. Feels like the gentleness, the soft appreciation, is more for her ego than to prevent injury.

'Well–mhm–you clearly mean it, at least.' Irina chuckles. She shivers. 'Put your hands down there, honey. Scoop them up and shower them with love. Don't worry about my cock–your head will be a perfectly suitable rest for the time being.'

I don't hesitate at this point. I slide my hands down her shaft and slowly the heavy thing droops, culminating in a soft thump atop my head where it comes to linger. Irina chuckles and I do my best not to tremble at how weirdly good it feels, the mockery in that sound, playful though it surely is. My hands are around her balls a moment later, each a fat weight upon either of my palms.

Something comes over me. I sandwich my face in the cleft between her nuts, sniffing her potent musk, shifting my face a little bit from side to side as if motorboating them. Irina teases the back of my head with slow patterns of her fingers, and produces a pleasant feminine groan.

'Good boy. Such a good, obedient boy.'

Her heavy testes bounce and wobble against my face, pleasantly warm, the smell thick and interesting. My cock is straining now, my interest strangely piqued. Holding her balls loosely and swivelling my face left to right leaves her thick weighty penis to bounce gently atop my head, while Irina plays with my hair.

'I don't think I can wait much longer,' she says, a pleasant lilt to her voice. A breathiness. 'Kiss your way up, baby. Towards the prize.'

I'm definitely not myself. In the heat of this act, my reluctance is a memory. There's not even an active awareness of why I'm doing this, beyond it being necessary, beyond it being what Irina Blackwell, my dominant gorgeous boss, desires.

'Y-es,' I say, pressing my lips to the underside of her shaft's base. 'I'll do it. I'll suck.'

'You will,' Irina says, teasing my hair. 'You'll do such a lovely job, honey.'

The heat of her pole is different, possessing a pulse and power that her heaving loins lack. I press my lips against the prominent urethral bulge and slowly glide up, leaving a trail of kisses. Out goes my tongue now and then where I stop and apply especial attention, surprising myself at just how pleasant it is to hear my mouth make such dirty noises as it connects again and again with her oversized manhood.

Her cock's full weight levels against my face, my lips in particular, as I rise. Our eyes meet beyond the thick dark shape of her shaft, her gorgeous greens mischievous, commanding. I am of interest to this woman, but not of regard. She eyes me like prey, like a morsel, with this hunger that suggests all I am is of sexual worth and not a lick more. Or maybe it feels that way because my brain is all slutty right now, and all I can think about is the blowjob I'm about to give this dangerously sexy futanari.

Irina places down her Martini and takes up her cock, lifting it out of reach of my lips. 'Do you deserve this?' she says, smirking viciously. 'Perhaps even this is rewarding you twice, don't you think?'

'Irina…'

She brings down her engorged length, resulting in a weighty slapping noise, a hot slam across my right cheek. My boss chuckles, almost a giggle, the veneer of sheer dominance glazed in a playfulness that mocks and arouses me. 'Beg, honey. Beg for mummy's big fat dick. Beg to suck it with that slutty little boy-mouth.'

'P-lease, Irina,' I say, shivering. Realising that I'll do anything for this, now. To end it, yes, but…I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to proceed. The arousal is too great. 'Please let me suck your dick, mummy. Please.'

My boss brings her cock down again, this time letting it rest. It throbs powerfully, adds a different kind of musk to the mixture in my nose. Something fresh. Something demanding. 'I don't know. I'm not convinced.'

'Please, mummy. I need it. I need your fat cock in my mouth. I need your hot fresh load on my tongue. Please. I'm begging you.'

Irina cracks a cruel smile. 'Oh my, that didn't even require my guidance,' she says. My boss guides my head backwards with her hand, gently gripping the hair. I sit back on my calves, face now beneath the swollen hooded tip of her weighty member. The folds of foreskin, in the vague light, glisten faintly. 'Stick your tongue out. I want to slap it.'

Without reservation I slip my tongue past my lips, to full extension. Irina chuckles warmly and brings down her hooded dick once, twice, thrice. Each time the slap is wet, the sensation brief and hot and foreign. I'm left with a salty taste, familiar, the flavour of her precum. It's not at all unpleasant, just as before.

I anticipate her to slap again but she withdraws her hands, from head and cock both, leaving my tongue extended as a rest for the heavy length between her full thighs. 'I don't want you to use your hands,' Irina says. 'Just your mouth. Make me cum, with just your mouth. You do that, and I'll promote you like I said.'

Meeting her eyes, I do my best attempt at a nod. It's time. There's no other way, no alternative. Bringing my hands down onto my knees, I spread my lips as best I can and engulf the swollen tip of her fiercely intimidating erection. The soft foreskin tickles my tastebuds and her salty-bitter precum glazes my tongue, and then I pull in my cheeks and begin to nurse on the end of her cock.

Her penis . Irina's penis, again, is inside my mouth. And this time she's not fucking me, she's not forcing me, she's just sitting back and sipping her Martini and watching me with such an intensely commanding stare that I'm desperate to do right by her regardless of how wrong I'm sure this is.

I cement my lips as best I can around the rear of her helmet and suckle, tasting more of that copious flavour. It trickles constantly, a good sign of her arousal, a troubling reminder of what's going on here. Being a man, I know what to do here, like as not. I know what's sensitive and what feels good. The biggest problem, right now, is that her foreskin is all in the way. That, and I can't use my hands.

It's such a dirty concept, but it's the most logical thing to do. I stick my tongue in the opening of her penile hood and touch upon the pearly-smooth spongy-firmness of her glans, receiving in return a thick drool of salty stickiness. Irina winces, a distinct look of pleasure. 'Inventive,' she says. 'Good boy. Work for it. Work for that promotion.'

Captured as her bell-end is, my lips a vice around its rear crown, my tongue easily moves about in the folds of her foreskin. Irina groans gently as I feel out the eyelet of the thing, as I run my tongue in a great loop around the prominent tip, so smooth and strangely tasty.

'Mhm.' The sound, shamefully, comes from me. It's reflexive, guilty, but her cock…I just can't help but enjoy its taste. Her taste.

'I heard that,' Irina says. 'What a sweet little sound. It's not so bad, is it? Sucking on such a big, healthy, virile cock. Doubtless it helps that it's mine.'

'Mhm.' I meet her emerald eyes, blush hard, tremble. 'Mhm-hm.'

My boss has a redness to her cheeks, as well. 'Let mummy help you, baby.' She puts a hand, two fingers really, to the middle of her shaft. 'Let's unwrap that lolly.'

Irina tugs on her foreskin, drawing it back inside my mouth. There's a submerged pop as her powerful helmet slips free of its wrinkly confines, bringing with it a heavy explosion of precum all across my tongue, having accumulated in the folds around that bloated tip. I've never wanted to suck anything so badly in my life. The taste, the feeling, the presence of it. Meeting my boss's gaze, feeling small, feeling dirty, feeling…I can't even process it all.

'Mhm. Schlup.'

I suck hard, roll my tongue around, slightly bob my head. Her bell-end is so fat and juicy, it fills my mouth so prominently. No matter how I twist my head or move my tongue, it's impossible to escape. Like a fat wedge it flares towards its rear, forming a great spongy crown that precedes the rolls of her foreskin trapped behind it.

'Ugh. That's it, baby. Nurse on it. Suck in those cheeks. Use that tongue. Such a good boy.'

'Mumph. Slurp.'

I start to bob my head, never leaving her eyes, bringing her bloated helmet back and forth across the blade of my tongue. It oozes a constantly flavour, so much of which I have to swallow, all the while grazing my tastebuds with that odd texture change between the smooth tissue of the glans and the fibrous roughness of the banjo string on the underside.

Each time her bell-end threatens to brush my throat, I'm struck by the bizarrely erotic realisation that this feels disgustingly right. Like my mouth was made for this purpose, to nurse and suckle on her hefty penis. Like the best thing I can possibly do in this world is to pleasure someone gorgeous and stacked and sublimely sexy like my boss, Irina Blackwell.

'Holy shit,' Maddie says then, breaking my stupor. 'You're actually doing it.'

I freeze up, eyes shifting left, cock wedged firmly in my mouth. She's stood there just beyond the table, under the light, staring with the widest eyes I've ever seen on her. In my panic I almost retreat, almost protest, but Irina says in no uncertain terms, 'You'll keep going, or you're done here. I don't care if we're being watched, and nor should you. Let her watch, Theo. We're not done until my load is sloshing about in your belly.'

I've clearly got no shame, because I let my eyes go back to Irina's. There's this brief moment of hesitation and then I'm bobbing my head again, slurping and sucking away, finishing what I started despite how utterly embarrassing this is, how shameful I feel right now.

'He's–ughn–soon going to be very well-rewarded,' my boss says. Maddie creeps closer, curiosity overcoming anything else in her world. In my periphery I can see her smirking face, cruel in its (by contrast to Irina) generic blonde beauty. 'Oh, and he's going to get a promotion for this besides. Ugh.'

The mischief on Irina's face is ripe and bold, her pleasure seemingly heightened by the presence of a third party. Her precum comes out in greater quantity and I'm struck by the realisation – with Maddie's proximity, with Irina's pleasure – that before long my mouth is going to be on the receiving end of quite the orgasm. Worse still, Maddie's going to see the whole fucking thing. Bad enough to have our boss feed me her load without someone else having to watch my face in the process!

'He's really going for it,' Maddie says, a strange note to her voice. Excitement? 'Jeez. I don't think I can handle a dick half so well.'

'He's a quick learner,' Irina says. 'And he's got a good teacher. And the–mhm–requisite motivation. Don't you, baby?'

I flutter my eyelids at Irina and nervously meet Maddie's eyes as I shift my head back and forth, dragging our boss's fat bell-end across my tongue. The blonde's blue eyes are scary, a warning, a pulling down of an illusion. This is real, and she knows. This is real, and I'm being watched. Shit, Maddie goes so far as to stand, half-dazed by surprise, at the end of the bench just behind Irina.

Then her gaze shifts to the apparently more interesting thing. For someone who regarded Irina as a freak, she's…well, she can hardly stop eyeing up our boss's manhood. The dark mamba, veiny and wrist-thick, slick with my spit, is clearly the real sight to behold.

'Mumph. Schlup.'

'That's it, baby. Ugh. Closer and–mhm –closer. Earn that big reward.'

Maddie says, 'Are you–' But she stops herself. 'Is he going to…?'

Irina nods. 'What else would I be rewarding such a good boy with?' My boss grins at me, all gorgeous viciousness. 'Isn't it that right, honey? Just what you're after. A big, thick–ugh–creamy reward. Mhm. It's almost on its way.'

Maddie can't take her eyes off Irina's cock, and I can barely take mine from Irina's. Her sharply beautiful face is redder, her emerald eyes wetter, her whole countenance suggestive of an impending eruption. My boss inches her knees apart, a tremble rumbling through her. The pulsing of her cock strengthens, the precum seems to diminish. Her helmet swells, throbs more angrily.

'Holy shit,' is all Maddie manages to say.

'Ugh. Good fucking boy!'

My tastebuds are greeted with a familiar yet no less troublesome substance. A thick rope, a spray of heavy heat, splatters out across my tongue. Irina shudders and grunts, eyes hooded yet maintaining control of me, set rigidly upon mine. My boss is loading my mouth, again. Maddie, of all people, is watching as it happens. Watching my eyes with peculiar intent, as I stare up at Irina's in fateful submission.

The blonde chews her lip as a second spurt shoots out, hitting the roof of my mouth, almost reaching my throat and threatening to make me gag. Today Irina's cock is far further back, a failing of my awareness and inexperience. I don't know her tells, don't know what to look for. That strong, salty, tangy, musky and faintly bitter richness overwhelms my tastebuds, loads my mind as much as it loads my mouth with the unmistakeable flavour of my boss's semen.

Irina exhales, grunts, licks her lips. 'Keep sucking, baby. Ughn. Keep sucking. There's more. Plenty more. Don't miss a–mhm–drop. It's all for you, honey. All for you.'

Something clicks, in some vile way. That I'm looking into my boss's mind just as she's staring into mine, and we're both seeing all these little details of one another, all these little signs of what's going on. The sheer pleasure in her gaze goes beyond the physical. To be practically breeding my mouth like this, with so heavy an ejaculation, has some intense psychological power to her. And…to me, as well.

'Mhm.'

I let out a little moan as she continues to plaster my tongue. The taste is so fundamentally wrong but…but it's strange. It feels good on my tongue, this heavy stuff. This heat in my mouth, this foreign messy presence, makes my cock twitch with excitement.

There's no way I can hold it all. People aren't meant to cum this much. The thick, knotty, ropey cream is hot and – as much as I hate to admit – interesting in its texture and flavour, but there's too much. I have to swallow some, have to prevent overloading like last time.

Irina clicks her teeth at me. 'Don't you dare. Ugh. I want to see…want to see it before it's gone. Mhm. Ughn. Fuck.'

Her load continues to blow, to smother my tastebuds in thick, rich, salty seed. It clings to the roof of my mouth, forms ropes and tangles across my teeth, splatters the blade of my tongue. I pull back, wedge her helmet against my lips, prevent choking from a shot to the throat, but the quantity is insane.

I need the job, but I also deeply do not need jizz spraying out of my nose again. A little gulp. Just a little. Draining the sheer excessiveness of her virile produce, preventing an overload. Irina likely feels the sensation but has the charity to let it slide, just as her sperm slides down my gullet to melt in my belly.

All throughout Maddie watches, staring bug-eyed at me, her cheeks flush and all memory of those cruel words at odds with this new, clearly-enticed woman who struggles not to find some bizarre arousal in watching something she proclaimed was so awful before.

And as suddenly as it began, Irina relaxes. She lets out one last heavy sigh and with it one last heavy shot, then reclines against the bench. 'Fuck. That was lovely, baby. You're such a good boy.' She gently, slightly shakily, strokes my forehead. 'Suck out…suck out any stragglers. Then show us. Show us what a good job you did.'

I attempt a nod, and suck hard on the now-softer cock. Perhaps a little bit comes out, a few last stringy dregs, but the bulk was shot out in the powerful preceding bursts. For the second time in my life, I've got someone's ejaculate heavy on my tongue. Irina Blackwell's semen it may be, better than some dude's, but…it's still cum. It's still thick, salty, a little bitter. Tangy, yeah. Surprisingly…well, rich . But still. It's semen .

Why am I not completely disgusted? What's wrong with me?

Her cock is soft enough, slurped-on enough, that I can release it now. I've seen the routine well-enough in porn, though never had to put on the show for anyone before. As Irina's heavy semi slaps down against her saliva-slicked balls, I sit back on my haunches and roll around the thick salty futa-cream that so readily has packed my mouth.

My boss smiles at me. Maddie stares as before. 'Open wide,' Irina says. 'Show mummy all that tasty milk, baby. You worked so, so hard for it.'

She cups my chin and helps me find the right angle to minimise risk of spillage. In what must be the singularly most shameful act of my life, I part my lips for these two women. Well, one woman and one futanari.

'Woah,' Maddie says. 'There's so much.'

Irina chuckles, warm and distinctly proud. 'I never disappoint.'

I'm instantly aware of how clinging the stuff is, how ropey and strange it is. There's this sensation of all these little points where tangles have formed, where strings connect teeth to my tongue, to the roof my mouth, to each other. Irina has thoroughly dirtied my mouth, completely packed it with her seed. The thought, filthy and erotic, of hundreds of millions – if not more, given her clear virility – of her strong-swimming sperm, racing about my slutty mouth, comes to mind.

'Chew it,' my boss says. 'Savour it. The virile milk of a better cock than yours.'

I can only obey, blushing hard as I close my mouth and churn the stuff around, mincing through thick ropes and fat knots, the strong taste growing more and more pleasant by the moment. Mixing with spit her load grows creamier, less overtly tangled and gooey.

I…I like how it tastes, don't I? I like her cock, like her balls, like her most of all. It's that realisation again. That upturning of what I'm used to, and yet, not hating the result.

Jesus Christ.

'Show us again,' Irina says. God, she's perfect to behold. God, at least it's her. 'Then swallow. I want to see a nice empty mouth, if you're getting that promotion.'

When I spread my lips again, the sensation of ropes and knots is lesser. The stuff congeals more on my tongue, and Irina nods with smiling approval. 'Beautiful. Such a big healthy load for my favourite employee.' She winks at me, and I feel a flourish of contentment. 'Go on, Theo. Put all those sperm where they belong.'

It takes two, almost three swallows to get it all down. All of this powerful, wealthy, gorgeous woman's potential children – no way she's anything less than spectacularly virile – sliding down my gullet, gone forever. Such thick, dirty, erotic heat. Such a strong, similarly pleasant – much as it shouldn't be – aftertaste.

And then I open my mouth, and Maddie shudders. Not a disapproving thing by any means, more of an unwanted physiological reaction.

But Irina, composed and cool, queenly woman that she is, merely smiles. Smiles with such voluptuous lips, with such powerful eyes. 'What do you say, baby, when someone gives you something nice to eat?'

'T-hank you, mummy.'

Maddie blushes darker. 'Oh shit.'

Irina runs a hand across my head. 'Our little secret, Maddie. If you keep it, I might let you watch again,' she says, continuing to stroke me. 'And Theo…I think you've earned that promotion. Come see me on Monday morning. My office. Nine sharp. We'll get your new contract written up.'

She's so casual, in pulling up her panties, then standing and leaving. The black dress falls straight, hiding any hint of the prodigious manhood and fat – though, perhaps slightly less plump – testicles that lurk between the tall dominant woman's beautiful legs. Irina Blackwell collects up her Martini glass – now emptied – and gives Maddie a smile.

'Don't be giving him too much trouble,' our boss says. 'He's under my protection. I certainly wouldn't want to have to show favouritism.'

In walking away, Irina has this sublimely sexy elegance to her. Muscular and potent, at once a full-figured Aphrodite and an easy rival for Priapus. Such a confusion, to watch that powerful backside shift with the sway of her hips, to find myself hungering for that body that in some sense I will never be able to fuck in the way I want most.

I'm left on my knees trembling, blushing, and subject to Maddie's strange gaze. The blonde woman, beautiful but a shadow of Irina, seems just as perplexed. Half-enamoured with me, half-disgusted.

'I don't actually blame you,' she says, looking nervous. 'I…I didn't know dicks could be that big. Or loads that thick. It's still weird, but…I see it now.'

'Y-eah.'

'What I said–'

'It's fine,' I say quickly, pushing up onto my feet. I dust off my knees, which are thankfully only a little green from the mossy patio. 'Just don't go telling everyone. It's embarrassing enough as it is.'

Maddie seems to ignore me, watching towards the garden entrance where Irina went.

'Do you…do you think she's into girls?'

I shake my head. 'I don't think so. Or not especially so.'

Maddie chews her lip as she stares, following a memory, a picture in her head. 'Maybe you could ask?' She eyes me again, naughtiness – foreign, on her – obvious and undeterred. 'I might let you eat me out some time.'

The suggestion provokes a rumble in some part of me I'd worried was dead. How fucking dare she?! I'm thankfully uncowed by this woman, this not-Irina. 'Do you two favours? If I want to eat pussy, I'll ask Irina.' I smile at her. 'But maybe I'll ask. Again, no word of this.'

Maddie crosses her arms. I'd not paid much attention before, but her breasts – again, a shadow of Irina's – are plenty obvious. 'Word's already out,' she says.

'I mean the full details,' I say. 'People don't need to know that you saw this.'

Maddie smirks, though not maliciously. Almost a teenage atavism, a throwback to times of gossip and rumours. 'Why didn't you just own it, before?'

I shrug. 'It's weird, man. I've never thought about sucking dick before.'

'Did you like it? Hand on heart, no lies?'

Slowly, sheepishly, I nod. 'I…think so.'

She extends a hand, pinkie outstretched. 'We're cool,' Maddie says.

A weird thing, making a pinkie shake with my colleague while our boss's load settles into my stomach acid. Relief and confusion, all in one. To not quite know what the hell is going on with my sexuality, and to not have to worry that every single colleague despises me.

But it's all fucking weird lately, isn't it?

Hey…at least I'm getting promoted?

Chapter 3: New Role, New Responsibilities

Summary:

Theo has swallowed his pride (and Irina's) and now embraces the benefits of his new role as senior editor at Blackwell Limited. Yet, of course, it couldn't be so simple! Irina has demands of him, and who is Theo to disobey, when offered such a tempting job?

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: New Role, New Responsibilities

Monday arrives.

Maddie gives me a look when we pass in the corridor leading to the lift. A smug insider smile, eliciting a briefly shared blush. Somehow, it feels like the world knows what I've done, twice over. It's…neither good nor bad. I don't think I care, but at the same time, this whole thing's left me thoroughly confused.

The boss's office is on the top floor, among the executive rooms. Irina told me nine o' clock sharp, so here I am, at eight-fifty-five. Best not to be late for a life-changing promotion appointment.

It's all quiet up here, despite the number of offices. At one end of the long corridor is a great plate window, looking down on the town below. The building's only six storeys tall, but in this part of town, it's one of the tallest. A custom build, on company-owned land, belonging to Ms Blackwell's family.

At the other end is Irina's office. Two doors lead into a large room that takes up more space than the offices on either side of it, an expansive realm not dissimilar to a lounge. She calls me in before I knock on the glass door, and I find myself paralysed by the interior.

A great window made of three independent panes covers the far wall, spilling warm morning light upon leather and mahogany. There are statuettes and busts, oil paintings by Gogh and Turner, a veritable library of books and a bar at one side. The central desk, a huge and intimidating thing, is vacated. I find Irina sat in the lounge area by the bar, on a sofa before a coffee table, sipping a morning Martini.

She sets her emerald gaze on me, following up with a glossy smile. 'Theo. Good morning.' The boss gestures to the seat opposite, and crosses her arms over her impressive yet largely concealed chest. Her formal blazer, dark navy with gold trim at the collar, hides the doubtlessly form-fitting white blouse beneath. 'How are we, this morning? Well, I hope?'

Irina Blackwell is divine, as always. Her eyeliner has a vaguely Egyptian styling to it, and her full-lipped mouth, emerald-green eyes, and darkly crimson hair all combine to make her alluring features really pop.

But despite her beauty, she continues to scare me a little. Not as much, not as she did – I know on some level where I stand with her – but Irina remains intimidating.

'I'm well, yes, thanks,' I say, lingering in the centre of the room, still taking it all in. 'And you, Irina?'

'Always, after a Friday night conquest.' She smirks, with lips of lacquered darkness. The tall woman lifts her drink and sips, then places it back on the short table. She studies me with those gorgeous yet predatory eyes. 'You were eager to please me. You put on quite a show, for Maddie and I both. One might even think you something of a natural performer.'

I'm blushing. I can feel it, the heat on my face. I did what I had to do. Did what was most conducive to guaranteeing some modicum of success.

But she is right, isn't she? I was eager to please. I did put on a show.

'What do you want me to say, Irina?'

'Nothing is fine,' my boss says, that smirk upturning the corners of her lovely mouth. 'Come, Theo. Sit with me. Let's talk about this promotion.'

I nod, and look to the sofa that mirrors her own seat. But when I step towards it, Irina shakes her head. 'Aren't we beyond that?' My gorgeous, ever-intimidating boss pats the seat beside her. Spacious enough for two, but I can't imagine she expects me to sit out of her reach. 'Here, honey. Let's go over this contract.'

As usual, I'm weirdly obedient in her presence. I justify it – I haven't got the new job yet – but even so, Irina Blackwell, under any sane conditions, would be seen as a sexual harasser. But I've set a precedent, haven't I?

I sucked her cock on Friday night, for a better role here.

Why would she suddenly expect me to keep my distance?

'Of course,' I say, blush deepening. I go to her, go around the front of the coffee table. Upon it, at the least, is a formal-looking document. It's not a mere ruse. Or it's not just a ruse.

Passingly I eye her crotch, hidden by the lip of her skirt and the placement of her knees. Back in the belly of the beast, in a sense. It should fill me with unease, knowing the power she has here, in her den. It certainly did before. Strangely…I'm not scared.

I plant myself down beside her, getting a whiff of her scents. Pine-needle gin, a far more distant note of expensive Vermouth. Her perfume, which I can't quite place. And something faint, familiar, in the form of her fertile virility, that tang of something uniquely hers.

Irina smiles at me in profile, and rests a hand on my thigh. She strokes along the top, then dips her fingers onto the inside, provoking a tremble in me.

'Still so uncomfortable in my presence,' my boss says, eyes all power and prettiness. 'You'd think after such an affectionate blowjob, there'd be nothing left to worry about between us.'

'Look, about what happened on Friday…'

Suddenly her hand is on my crotch, a warm firm grip. A lump forms in my throat, which I promptly swallow. 'Theo, you made the right choice. What happened was a beautiful thing. I hope it made you realise how good a future you can have here, if you stay in my good books.'

'…stay in them?'

Irina gives my clothed cock a squeeze, and with her other hand lifts up the contract. 'There are two versions of this. The genuine, which is before you, and the "public" version, which will be on the company's database.'

I scan the page, eyes widening in places. Words and phrases leap off the page, things that would not be there if this were anything other than a dirty deal between a lascivious futanari and, to be fair to myself, a desperate fool.

Oral relief, and the consumption of semen, to be provided twice a week. Anal relief, to be provided once per week. A weekend meal, paid for by Irina, every Saturday. Two additional weeks of holiday, all expenses paid, to be spent in Irina's company, every July and December. A performance bonus, for exceptional service, above and beyond the wording of the contract, to be discussed personally with Irina Blackwell.

I grow steadily more bug-eyed, building a picture in my head tantamount to a kind of sexual servitude. Oh, the salary is in fact seventy-five-thousand pounds, but for what? For signing away…my body? My life outside this place?

Irina is watching my face, chewing on the lovely fat of her lower lip. There's a hunger in her gaze, the way she looks at me, dominating my thoughts without a word. God, this excites her. She gets off on everything she does to me.

I grimace, because the kneading of her fingers and palm against my cock has provoked a response below.

'Irina…you said we were done?'

'Oh, I did, honey. I did. But…then you gave me that divine suck-session on Friday and I absolutely loathed the thought of never receiving one of those blowjobs again.' Irina grips me so firmly that I shudder, and let out a small moan. 'I'm not evil, baby. I just want to nurture this thing in you, to sculpt you into the lovely young man you're so in reach of becoming.'

I glance down as she drops the contract and pushes her now-free hand upon my chest, its sibling expertly tackling my belt and fly. 'I'm offering you so much, Theo. I'm accelerating your career by at least a decade, if not more. I'm even willing, because I'm just such a good boss, to get you your own personal assistant. One with a contract that might, if you play your cards right, look a lot like yours.'

My traitor cock is up, a spring of decently-sized thickness. Irina has her hand about it in an instant, the other cupping my chin, making me face her. She's excessively good-looking. Tall and athletic, heavy-chested, some easy mortal rival for Aphrodite. A Galatea.

And I know this isn't right. I know I shouldn't be letting her do this.

I know that, and do nothing.

'An…assistant?'

Irina nods. 'A plaything, yes. But honey, there's no way I could dirty my hands further without you accepting your place here. Your new role will, naturally, come with new responsibilities.'

She's stroking me, tending to me with her soft yet large hand. The nails of her fingers are sharp, coated in crimson varnish. Every now and then, on every fourth or fifth tug, she'll expertly tease their hard edges upon the underside of my dick.

I can't believe I'm considering the revised contract, despite it being so vulgar.

Friday was meant to be the last. A blowjob I gave, with that in mind. Yes, I didn't hate it. More than that, even. I…definitely enjoyed it, as much as I shouldn't have done. I don't understand how my sexuality works with this, but even if I did, the way Irina has treated me is repugnant. In the light of day, in this well-furnished office, with a seventy-five-kay contract dangling ahead of me like a golden carrot, it's easy to forget that she raped me.

But even recalling that word, that detail, and shoving it to the front of my thoughts…

'How's this meant to–ugh–work?' I say, breathily.

Irina pauses her stroking, and rubs my tip as though it's a genie lamp. 'There's plenty of room beneath my desk for you,' she says. 'You're not exactly large, in height or width.' The beautiful terror strokes my chin, smile broader now. Her white teeth are perfect behind those voluptuous burgundy lips. 'You don't need me to explain the mechanics of sucking dick, Theo.'

I shiver, part-pleasure, part-trepidation. I am actually thinking about it, aren't I?

Where the hell else am I going to get a job like this? In this economic climate? With my qualifications? In my twenties?

And…and maybe it's her hand, doing its teasing and playful kneading, but the one person who I was most worried about judging me knows , intimately, what's up. Maddie knows. And Maddie's reaction was nothing like I imagined it to be.

God, I must be insane. Worse, given that…given that the – let's be fucking blunt – cocksucking duties don't jump out at me as some awful thing to be hated and avoided.

'The rest?' I say. 'The anal? The meals? The holidays, and performance bonus?'

The taller woman leans in, resting her chin upon my shoulder. She plays with my cock, teases at my face with affectionate fingers. 'I've a private bathroom, and you'd look especially handsome being railed over my desk.' I tremble, and she laughs. 'So cute, honey. So easy . You're such a slutty boy, aren't you?'

I shut my eyes. 'The rest, Irina. What does that entail?'

'Exactly what is written on the page,' she says. 'I so rarely go on dates, you know? So on Saturdays, you'll be my date. And in July, when I visit my beachside estate in California, you'll come with me. And in December, across Christmas, you'll stay with me in the Swiss Alps.'

'That's–ugh–extra sex, isn't it?'

She must shake her head, because I feel her chin wiggle. 'No, baby. You can even, if you're fine with the awkwardness, sit there in silence, or coop yourself up in your room. It'd be a shame, but you'd have fulfilled your end of the contract.'

'Why?' I say, opening my eyes, and tilting my blushing face towards her. Her breath has alcohol to it, but her speech, and expression, and manual dexterity , show no hints of intoxication. 'Why are there no strings?'

Irina lifts her chin, brushes my cheek with her nose. She practically kisses my ear, hot damp breath tickling my earlobe and the skin of my throat. 'Look, honey, I love having a contract that tells you what to do. But you're not a stupid boy by any stretch. The opposite, in fact, or I wouldn't be so interested.

'But Theo…I don't think you'll last until Christmas. I've got my fingers crossed for July, but that's three months, and you might just hold out,' Irina says. 'But you definitely won't last until Christmas.'

The pressure is building now, even with such light brushes and motions. Her voice, her smell, the heat of her breath, the softness of her skin. 'W-hat do you mean? I won't–ughn–last?'

'I mean, honey, that by Christmas the sexual responsibilities of your job won't matter.' Her voice is sultry, perfect in its enunciation, no syllable produced with miserliness. 'You'll be doing everything I want, whenever I want. I imagine you'll spend most of Christmas Day on your knees.'

Irina chuckles, and kisses my cheek. That, and something darkly desirable in her words, pushes me over the edge. I grunt, and spill my seed.

'Fuck.'

I'm distantly aware, comparatively, of how small my cock looks. How little the volume of my load. A few white strings, spilling across the dusky skin of her hand. Thoughts I never had prior to Irina opening my eyes, which now I cannot so swiftly dismiss.

The pleasure is divine, all the more so for her affectionate kisses upon my cheek.

'Let it out, sweetie,' Irina says. 'It's so cute that your balls try so hard, and produce something that mine will always so easily outperform.'

'Ugh.'

I tremble, shudder, cock pulsing against her yet-moving hand. The load Irina shot in my mouth on Friday was immense, and this one is paltry, isn't it? Mine, compared to hers, is nothing. And the thought should be repulsive, should be awful, but it only seems to stir some perverse part of my animal brain further.

'Such a good boy, baby.' Irina milks the last spurts, letting me dirty her pretty hand. 'Mummy's good boy, aren't you?'

'Irina…'

'Am I wrong, Theo?' She brushes her nose against me, lowers her head, nuzzles the side of my neck. 'Do you really think, with the way you react to me, that you'll hold out? Would it really be so bad, to belong to me?'

Irina lifts her soiled hand up to my face. I…I think I understand the purpose, without her bothering to tell me. 'What are you doing?'

'You dirtied my hand, honey,' she says. 'I want you to clean it. And in cleaning it, I want you to realise how incredibly generous that contract is.'

My cum, on her hand, is a series of gooey white ropes. The smell is faint, nothing like Irina's potent musk. It bothers me, how instinctively I compare myself to the futanari, but it's the first place my brain goes to.

Irina is a gorgeous, insanely beautiful woman. And, somehow, more of a man than I am.

'I don't want to.'

Irina raises an eyebrow, more mockery than anything. 'Oh? Should I tear up the contract?'

I shake my head. 'No. I…I want the job.'

My boss pokes at my lips with two seed-tainted fingers. 'Then clean me up, baby.'

Fuck it. I…I let her feed me my own jizz.

It's inoffensive. Bland, if anything. Mostly tasteless, a little bit salty. There's enough to smear across my tongue, but no more than that. I'm quite eager to finish the task, really, by licking the back of her hand, by sucking on her outstretched fingers, but even so, it just doesn't have much about it to make it stand out.

Not…not like Irina's semen.

'Done,' I say, weakly. 'Can I sign the contract?'

'You may, but do you realise how good a deal you're getting?'

A good deal? Seventy-five-kay? Of course that's a good deal, at my age, with my experience, with my qualifications, in this market.

But that's not what she means, or she'd not have just made me lick up my own load.

'I…I do.'

Irina chuckles. 'You realise that my conditions are, if anything, perks of the job?'

I nod.

'Good boy.' She kisses the side of my head, and dips down to collect up the contract. 'You can start immediately. I'll have your salary upped for the coming payday.'

I put the document down on the short table, but when Irina hands me a fountain pen, it feels almost like a deal with the Devil. Like in some way, by doing this, I'm signing away my soul.

She must notice my hesitation.

'It'll be okay,' Irina says, putting a hand on my shoulder. 'You know this is for the best, Theo. Before you know it, you'll see the sexual relief clauses as perks of the role. I'm sure, before long, we'll lose track of how many times you visit my office in a given week.'

I want to reject her words, but I want the job. I want to go up in the world.

And as I press the ink to the page, I realise something else.

On some dark, primal level…

…I want Irina, as well.

My new office is a thing of beauty. Wood panelling, a desk of my own. A bookshelf. A big window that overlooks the quiet Windsor byroad leading up to the Blackwell Limited company building. It's fairly big, though nothing on Irina's. Sufficient that, if she honours that suggestion of an assistant, I could easily fit another desk in here.

Theodore Michael Brackley, Senior Editor.

That's what it says on the door. On the little wooden placard on the desk.

I don't feel it. On my first full day, the Tuesday, I do less work than I've ever done here before. I seem to do the final edits of things, after everyone else has all but cleared up the typos and grammar errors. And yet, at the end of the month, I'll be seeing a tripling, or thereabouts, of my paycheque.

And all I had to do was commit what amounts to my sex life to my beautiful rapacious boss.

I'm hardly active on my online dating apps anyway, but I go ahead and delete them. I can't put someone through this, and I can't exactly handle polyamory either. There's enough money in this role that if I invest wisely, if I just do the time, save effectively…I won't be here forever. I'll be free of Irina Blackwell.

But at the same time, I have to confront her gleeful prediction: I will not last until Christmas.

A shiver runs through me, picturing some future Theo, giddily gorging himself on the gorgeous futanari's manhood in some Swiss chalet on Christmas Day, when usually I'd be with family. I can see it with terrifying vividity, Irina all smug and proud in some armchair by the fire, snow falling outside on the mountainous Alps. And all that beauty is lost, irrelevant, because Irina is going to shoot another doomed load of seed, be it the first or the third or the seventh, right across my slutty tongue.

The vision leaves me erect. She's already had such an impact on me.

Irina Blackwell, sans penis, might well be the most beautiful woman I've ever met. Her height, her sculpted build, her immense breasts, voluptuous curves, heavy buttocks, shapely thighs. That dyed crimson hair, a veritable mane, always up in some Amazonian braided ponytail. Her exotic makeup, lovely lips, sharpish features that mix womanly appeal and a certain degree of intimidation.

But the penis isn't the problem anymore, is it? We're past that.

The problem is that this entire situation began with rape . And now it continues via coercion, via a series of gradually enacted traps. Attraction be damned. I should be better than this! I should've gone to the police on Saturday. I should've…

…I should've done things differently. So many things.

Life is like that. Things happen fast and we react, never taking a moment to remain still, because there's no such thing as stillness. Even in a peaceful forest, where not even the wind is whispering, all things are in motion.

If I had managed to stand still, to consider the events of that fateful Friday, I could've acted. I could've at least prevented reaching this new low, this signed contract, this selling-out of my soul and my body for what? More money?

I hate that thought with sublime passion, yet I hate the alternative more.

Thankfully, Maddie interrupts my thoughts.

'Senior Editor,' she says, entering with a smile. No knock, but then again, it's not exactly an established rule. 'Whose cock did you have to suck for that one?'

Maddie winks at me, blue-eyed, effortlessly pretty. Not like Irina, not this towering succubus of a woman. Maddie is gently curvy, her breasts small yet ample beneath the clinging contours of a baby-blue blouse. Her long legs are on display, the black skirt going halfway down her creamy thighs. Lovely face, button nose, vaguely heart-shaped, framed by shoulder-length golden curls with a parted fringe.

Her joke is part of the issue. I'm in too deep, aren't I?

'You know full well,' I say, mirroring her smile, failing to be as authentic. 'Come to gloat?'

She shakes her head as she steps up to my desk, delicate fingers fondling the wooden placard. 'I'm jealous, if anything.'

I can't forget the way she looked at me, the way she looked at Irina's cock. That kind of thirst – what else can I call it? – now seems to occupy a permanent place in those pretty blue eyes.

Like an after-image, having stared at the Sun.

'I've not spoken to her yet, if that's why you're here.'

Maddie gets this odd look to her, kind of wistful. 'I've been a little bit too much of a bitch, haven't I?'

Maybe it's the new office, or the senior role, but I hold my tongue. A polite smile, inauthentic, is the best she gets on that front. 'What makes you say that?'

'We used to have fun downstairs,' Maddie says. 'To talk, and joke. But it feels like every interaction we have now operates within the shadow of the way I've behaved.' She runs her eyes up me, then frowns. 'I know you, Theo. You're really uncomfortable here.'

I let the smile die. 'Look, I don't hold any power over your career. If that's why–'

'See? That's how badly I've done. You jump straight to that.' She shakes her head, and sighs. 'Answer me honestly, Theo. If there was no gossip downstairs, if everything was just as it was before, if I hadn't been awful…would you have blown Irina for this new job?'

It says a lot that the answer is immediate, doesn't it?

'No.'

And the word hangs, effortlessly, like some bad air between us. No . Final and irretractable.

If I could've forgotten the whole Irina rape thing, if I could've just let it fade into memory, knowing precisely my boss's rapacious appetites, I would've been fine. I could've avoided Irina like the plague. I could've gone on as normal, some unwanted if at least interesting – though I'm not yet seeing any long-term damage – event relegated into the annals of memory.

But Maddie, and the others – but it hurt most being her – prevented that.

'I see,' she says, at length, breaking the silence. 'I'm going to hand in my notice. If…if you want me to back you up in a police report, I'll do it.'

'Why the change of heart?'

'You look so out of sorts, Theo. You're like a bird in a cage.' She shakes her head, blonde curls bouncing. 'I don't doubt you wanted this role, but I can't imagine it's satisfying to get it the way you did.' Maddie shuts her eyes. 'And I can't escape the fact that I helped force your hand.'

'Maddie,' I say. 'What's done is done.'

She nods. 'Right.'

Maddie turns, the tautness of her skirt highlighting the contours of her backside. I never exactly crushed on this woman, because she was always a bit too… mundane , maybe? But something about her little showing here has triggered something. An upset. A point of bother.

It's not even that I don't believe her. It's not that I can't imagine, given time and thought, that she'd change her view of the situation.

It's that when I needed her, in the moment, to be on my side…she wasn't. She was, if anything, actively against me.

And Irina's offer, dirty and illicit, comes to mind: a personal assistant.

One with a contract that might, if you play your cards right, look a lot like yours.

'Maddie,' I say, as she's halfway out the door. The blonde pauses, curls bobbing. 'Irina suggested that I might look for an assistant. It'll be another fifteen grand on what you're on down there.'

She blushes, though not for anything hinting at sensuality. 'Why me?'

'If you're feeling so bad, you can always do most of my work, right?' I smile truly, though the source is the mental image of her on her knees. 'What's done is done, but that's not necessarily bad. There are… perks , to this job.'

'You'd be doing me a favour,' Maddie says. 'I don't understand. Why?'

Because Irina is a bad influence.

'Because I'm on seventy-five,' I say. Her eyes widen. 'I may have been pushed – and I'm sure I look unsettled right now, because I am – but in ten years I'm going to have a hard time regretting one little blowjob, don't you think?'

She doesn't trust me. I don't exactly blame her. It must seem too good to be true, and I suppose that's because it is.

I don't want to reward Maddie. But if I'm here, if there are strings in me, why shouldn't there be strings in her?

Is it possible that Irina's woken more than just a submissive side?

'I didn't come up here to butter you up, Theo. I didn't have an ulterior motive.'

'I believe you. But you'd be doing me a favour with the workload. I'm just saying, if you do feel so guilty, why not consider it? It makes my life easier. As much as I appreciate your support…I mean what I say. I have to look on the bright side. I'll play the cards I've been dealt.'

And Maddie, after a long moment, nods. 'I'll do it. It'd ease my conscience.'

I smile warmly. 'Great. I'll talk to Irina later.'

My main question being: how are you going to get her to sign?

Irina is sat behind her desk at five, when the work day is ended.

She eyes a laptop screen, reflected light upon a pair of half-rimmed reading glasses. They add some further appeal to the already appealing decade-older woman, who at once dominates the empty office and yet remains this out-of-reach Aphrodite. Her jacket is discarded now, revealing the white blouse beneath, the upper buttons undone to reveal the juicy roundness of her immense breasts. I know I shouldn't be attracted to this woman, this futanari, but I am. Strange, that what was my biggest reservation now lives in the shadow of its successors.

Irina Blackwell is a predator, and I am nothing to her but prey.

She smirks as I walk up to her desk, and lifts her startlingly violet eyes to mine. The plate-glass windows behind her look upon a late afternoon sky, muted in its brightness, and the office is dim with its lights off, yet still those interesting eyes seize my attention.

'There's my newest Senior Editor,' Irina says, with devious warmth. 'Here to thank me already?'

I stop a few feet before her vast mahogany desk. 'I want Maddie,' I say, plain and simple. 'Just like you have me.'

Irina chuckles softly, leaning her chin upon an upturned hand. 'My, my. Predictable, I suppose. Disdain is a powerful aphrodisiac.' She raps the fingers of her free hand upon the flat of the wood. 'Unfortunately, her record is clean. I have no blackmail. Without a stick, you would need a carrot.'

I nod. 'Something she wants enough that she'd be willing to do what I want.'

'Precisely.'

I smile. 'You?'

Irina raises an eyebrow. 'Oh, honey. No. Little girls like Mads aren't my type. I'm sure the little size-queen would be easily broken-in, but I'm just not interested.'

'I'd have thought someone as voracious as you would jump at the chance.'

She cocks her head back a touch, watching me down her sculpted nose. 'As much as you and I have something between us, don't presume that you know or understand me. Is that clear, Theo?'

The words aren't spoken harshly, not even loudly, yet I feel smaller to hear them. Her smirk, before and after the utterance, remains strong.

'I wasn't presuming,' I say. 'But I understand. Will you help me find something else?'

That devilish smirk deepens. 'Honey, the issue is that Mummy might well find Mads a tight little cocksleeve, but I just won't be attracted enough to her – so residually and reluctantly bisexual as I am – that I'll get it up in the first place.' Irina runs a sliver of tongue upon her lower lip. 'I would have to be, let's say, imagining something that would do the job. Because the idea I have – that we get Mads hooked on what only I can give her – won't be a one-off, now will it? You realise that you're asking me, in effect, to regularly fuck this silly little girl, for what is, ultimately, your benefit.'

It's all deals, isn't it? Each one dirtier than the last.

And maybe I'm getting better at understanding that, or more willing to accept it. Or maybe, just maybe, I'm less pleasant than I believed myself to be.

'For every act you have to do to ensure Maddie sticks to the contract, I will…I will do that thing with you,' I say, managing to meet her terrible gaze. 'With the caveat that this doesn't begin, on my end, until the contract is bearing fruit for me.'

Irina Blackwell leans backwards, crossing her arms beneath those weighty K-cup breasts. They shift, supported that much more, and the lacy cups of her bra black bra peek out from behind the white of her blouse, broad areolas hinted at. The dominant futanari licks her lips, smirk becoming a smile, smile becoming a devious grin. Her eyes are alight with intrigue, with a filthy appreciation.

'You know just how to incentivise your Mummy, baby-boy,' my boss says. 'I'll start working on Maddie this Friday, at the weekly outing. I'll let you know every little detail.'

My loins stir at the thought. Pure perversion it may be, but I'm going to make the most of this situation. Salary, benefits, illicit perks. Sometimes the only way out is through.

'Thank you.' I give her a polite nod. 'I look forward to it.'

But when I turn away, Irina clicks her teeth. 'Aren't you forgetting something, honey?'

She shifts her chair backwards, and upon looking her way, Irina is slightly out from beneath her desk. Her smile, full and uncomfortably seductive, is a look of pride and lust. I know what she wants. I know what I signed for.

'Today?'

Irina nods. 'All this talk has me a bit too excited, and I do have a little more work to do.' She twists her chair to the side, so that her legs are parallel to the desk. When I don't move, surprised at the swiftness of developments, my boss lifts an eyebrow. 'Well, Theo?'

I signed. Whatever protests, whatever bother this causes me, on some level, I signed .

My boss adjusts herself as I approach, and when I round her desk I find myself looking upon her raring-to-go cock. The dark member intimidates no less now than it did when I first beheld it, possessing wrist-like girth and more than a foot of length. Black skirt drawn-up so that its hem rests amid her wild black pubes, Irina's voluptuous thighs are clad in near-opaque stockings attaching to a garter belt at her waist, leaving an appealing gap of thigh-flesh between the two garments.

I move closer and Irina seizes my arm, guiding me about as she swivels her long legs back beneath her desk. My boss gives me a look, dominance and expectation, then pushes on my shoulders. 'Underneath,' she says. 'Right where you belong.'

And when my knees are firmly on the soft rug that sits below her desk, Irina moves forwards, legs spread as wide as they'll go, boxing me in against the front panel. I'm left in semi-darkness, noticeably warm, rich with the potent smells of her body. Junk scents, cock and pussy odours. Musky sexuality mixing with that interesting perfume, and her womanly sweetness.

Her cock rests up against the wooden roof, straining at it, more solid than I've ever seen it. This, beyond anything else, must be a perpetual source of arousal. If I knew that someone had to blow me, I think – but maybe I'm just undersexed – I'd be constantly looking forward to it.

Irina begins typing away above, face out of view. On some level I'm grateful to not be looking at her, beautiful as she is to behold, because there's something submissive in the constant eye contact.

But equally, there's something just as potent, just as gravid with mystique, as doing it this way. Being what amounts to, in all honesty, a mere outlet for her lusts.

'Funny,' Irina says. 'That doesn't feel a lot like a blowjob.'

'Sorry, Mummy,' I say, taking hold of her throbbing, straining length. 'I'll get right on it.'

A fumbling hand slides underneath and pats my head, makes a mess of my hair. 'Good boy. I expect nothing less.'

In the poor light, all things are dim and dusky. I can about make out Irina's hefty bollocks, sagging as they do upon the seat of her big office chair. Her cock, in my hands, has lost much of its detail for being in the gloom. It should make it easier, and yet in some crude way, I miss the specifics of it. And with visuals dimmed, my other senses are that much easier to focus upon.

I push down my reservations, and do what – when I really think on it – I'm being paid for.

Wet kiss, louder for the confines beneath her desk. My lips upon the side of her swollen hooded helmet, brought down from the wooden roof. I swirl my tongue around the folds, getting a preliminary taste of Irina's penis. Salty, bitter. Other tastes, dirty tastes, a sourness. But I don't hate it.

I do this thing, creeping up her length – or down, I suppose – with my lips attempting to grapple its sheer breadth and failing. The sloppy sounds, damp noises, bother me as I go, a constant reminder of my descent. Not so long ago I'd be thinking of the money, or thinking of anything else, but after Friday…I'm just thinking about the act.

One-hundred and four times. That's the number. That's the reason. In a given year, fifty-two weeks, two blowjobs a week. Will they all be under her desk? I don't know. I doubt it. But they're a certainty.

And if I can blow a little air into the budding fire of interest, it'll make blowing my Amazonian futanari boss a thousand-fold more pleasant.

'I half-expected to have to guide you,' Irina says, sultry voice dampened by the desktop that separates us. 'You always were on track for this job, you know? You're a fine worker, Theo. You–mhm–don't half-arse a thing.'

She says this with such ease, as if I'm changing wires or she's reviewing my day's labour, and not referring in some devious way to the fact that her bulging cum-vein is brushing upon my spit-slick lips while my nostrils tingle with the strong odours of her musky sex.

But the compliment, regardless, provokes feel-good chemicals in the brain.

'Thank you, Mummy.'

'Good boy.' Irina begins typing away again.

I stick out my tongue, tasting her faintly salted skin, so smooth against my tastebuds. There's such a mismatch, given the silkiness of the exterior coating, and the iron-firm rigidity of the tissue beneath it. A further switch of interesting textures again when I reach the base of her cock, a touch more light from above revealing the tops of her stockings and the place where her skirt's hem rests amid oily black pubes.

Silk-coated-hardness passes the short hairs around her base – she at least trims those – and then I'm tasting the thicker saltiness of her ball-sack, wrinkly and slippery and yielding, only to confront the solid lumps within its confines.

'Mhm.' Irina stifles a moan as I bury my nose between her testicles, sucking and gently nibbling on the voluminous folds of her scrotum. 'Such a good boy.'

Her praise is toxic, but so addictive. My mouth makes a gruesomely slutty sound as I suckle on the side of a bloated bollock, practically snogging the thing, kissing its firm plumpness and tasting the salty smooth skin of her sack.

She finds my head with a hand again, making uncaring patterns and swirls across my hair with one of those large, beautiful, domineering hands.

And my response, of course, is to take her left nut inside my mouth.

'Ugh, you're eager today,' Irina says, sharpness of her nails tickling my scalp. 'I'm sure you'll say it's just duty, just your contract, but–mhm–I think your mouth is most honest when it's tending to my needs.'

My boss kicks off a slip-on heel and rubs my lower back with a tights-clad foot. The sensation makes my cock ache, makes me arch my spine. There's an electricity to her touch, to both the degrading hand on my head and the defiling sole upon my back.

'Today is special, honey. The bin beside my desk is usually packed with used tissues – an advantage of being so secluded up here – but today it's–ughn–empty. I wonder if it's noticeable? My big balls should be especially full .'

They…they do seem larger. The hot heavy lumps, one bouncing against my face, the other firmly smothered by my dutiful mouth, possess an air of density to them that wasn't there on Friday evening.

The thought is gruesome in its implications, and yet my cock strains at my boxers.

Was Irina shooting such huge loads before and wanking herself off all day?

'From now on, on days when I plan to–mhm–make use of your services , I'm not going to drain even a drop from my stores,' she says. 'That'll be your job, and this is my way of showing appreciation for that sacred task.' Irina teases my head with her swirling fingers. 'You deserve Mummy at her–ughn–purest and fullest .'

Ego glazes her lovely sultry voice, this self-worship that I doubt I'll ever match. The meaning of this to her, the powerful satisfaction it must bring, surely goes beyond anything I can do to her cock, as well. How much of sex is in the mind, after all?

'Y-es, Mummy,' I say, drawing back from her balls, lips again gracing her shaft. 'Thank you.'

What else can I say? What can I do to protest her authority?

I didn't have to do this. I could've left this job. I could've…

…what's done is done.

She begins typing away again once I've exposed her musky gooey glans, and wrapped my lips around its hot spongy solidity. Irina is satisfied, groaning and moaning in a lady-like fashion, restraining herself as she apparently works. I can't imagine I'd get anything done, but I'm not her.

I'm nothing like her.

Her cock, try as I might to deny it, is incredible. Her body, its curves, its defined muscles, its scents and sounds, its beautiful canvas, is only enhanced for its presence. What scared me before was the body, when the mind is the threat.

Such a big fat thing, straining my lips, throbbing upon my eager tongue. I am eager, aren't I? Her salty-bitter precum oils the whole thing up and she so readily slides back and forth, my hands pressed into the pleasant plushness of her powerful womanly thighs for stability as I bob my head, urging her closer and closer towards orgasm.

I can't take it so deep, because it makes me splutter when it nears my throat. I'm sure that'll change, intimidating a thought as it is, but I do what I can. I worship the crown of her mighty sceptre with my lips and my tongue and my cheeks, suckling and nursing, massaging away, giving her the kind of blowjob I can only dream of receiving.

And then so suddenly, amidst the trembling of her knees and the wobbling of her thighs, Irina pulls back on her chair. She slides out from beneath the desk, throwing light into my sordid domain, and her immense saliva-slick weapon springs up above that pair of similarly shiny brown orange-sized balls.

'Irina?' I say, peering out from below.

She's watching me, smiling, a blush upon her high cheeks and a glisten to her violets. 'I'm going to change the contract,' my boss says. 'Going forwards, when you blow me, I want you to choose. Each and every time, you'll choose.'

'Choose what?'

One of her beautiful hands falls to her shaft, giving it a squeeze. 'I want you to choose to receive me, honey. I want you to come to want to taste me, for my orgasm to be as much a reward for you as it is me.'

'You mean…I don't have to have your cum in my mouth?'

She shakes her head. 'Not until you realise how right it is that it ends up there. Not until you realise the value of my genes. Not until you come to want that of your own accord.'

My eyes flutter. There's something dirtier in that. In the submission of choice .

'And if I never do?'

Irina smiles, demonically gorgeous. All white teeth and ideal exotic features. Dominant violet eyes ringed by Egyptian-styled mascara. 'You will, baby. It might not be today, it might not be this year, but you will accept that I am your superior. And you will want to savour what my superiority tastes like.'

She leans back in her big seat, resting her arms on the sides. 'But today…pull out the big load I've made especially for you, and mark yourself with it. Your face tells me you're not ready to appreciate my generosity just yet.'

What makes me happiest, as I hobble forwards and take her veiny broad weapon in both of my hands, is that some part of me still rejects this. Given the choice, there's not a hint of doubt. My superior? No. Twisted and wrong your mind might be, but you're not better than I am. Oh, you are a smoke-show of a creature, but your words are toxic.

I don't get off on the same weird animalistic hierarchy.

And…there's another hope, as well.

Even as Irina grunts, and I shut my eyes, and she utterly paints my face in the heaviest load I think she's ever released – and this one is particularly sticky and thick, and it stinks muskier than ever – I'm struck by a beam of light from the heavens.

What if she gets bored? What if I never submit the way she wants?

She'd have done better to force it all. She'd have done better to demand obedience.

Instead she expects me to choose . Hah!

I'm actually smiling beneath the mass of gooey heat, the semi-liquid mess that forms gruesome clumps in my hair and pools up in the indents of my eyes and splatters my lips. I'm actually smiling.

And it's so easy to ignore the fact that, despite myself, it feels good to be receiving such an immensely potent ejaculation upon my face.

It's easy to ignore that because there's hope.

When Irina is done and softening, I scoop the muck from my eyes and meet her gaze.

She playfully nibbles on the tip of a finger, grinning around the act. That my boss didn't get her way seems to have had no impact on her appreciation for the result, and I suppose in a sense she had enough of a victory. It's hard to not enjoy the afterglow of an orgasm, even if it wasn't the ideal you envisioned.

'The bathroom is on the right as you enter,' Irina says. 'You didn't disappoint, baby-boy.'

I nod, mouth thickly smattered in her seed. My boss makes room for me to rise, and gives my backside a firm squeeze as I pass on by.

Out of sight of her, back turned, I can smile and nurture the hope that now has bright embers in my soul. Yet my giddiness falters upon viewing myself in the mirror of her private bathroom.

What a mess. But more than that.

That perverse, lusty, depraved submissive in me says, in no uncertain terms: what if she's right? What if she's superior?

I stare at the cum-marked man in the mirror, all white with ropes and knots, all splattered and smothered in the absolute densest sperm I've ever witnessed. Irina has managed to outdo herself, and all it took was the self-restraint of not wanking for a day .

How? How is she so virile? How is her body this sexually potent?

And even when I'm all cleaned up, it's so easy to picture that mask of (futa) man-milk.

'Such a shame to see you without me on your face,' Irina says, as I pass back through her office. Has her smirk grown smugger? 'See you tomorrow, Theo. You're such a good boy.'

I go to my office and collect my things, and that smirk, and that mirror-image, are burned into my thoughts. Can I still smell her? Did I miss any? I lick my lips – thoroughly cleaned – and part of me wonders if that hyper-concentrated load is superior to the ones I've tasted before. The ones I vaguely, uncomfortably, found myself enjoying.

The embers falter a little. I shouldn't be having these thoughts. I shouldn't be having them at all. I should have such a clear path to victory.

All I have to do is not want what only she can offer.

All I have to do is not want to submit.

Why does that seem so… daunting ?

Chapter 4: Perks of the Job

Summary:

Theo continues to deal with the advances of his dominant futa boss, troubled though he is with her behaviour. Maddie, who he hopes to dominate in a similar fashion, proves herself quite the eager employee...

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: The Perks of the Job

I'd forgotten quite what it was like, to be fucked. To be royally seen to.

The desk shudders, and if such solid wood can squeal in resistance, how is that I'm holding up? God, it's at once wonderful and terrible. Like being utterly stuffed with a rod of steel that is somehow soft and silky, and doesn't actually hurt. But the vigour, the strength, the unbending firmness of the pole are suggestive of something inanimate rather than my terribly gorgeous boss's terrifically intimidating penis.

'Guh. Fuck.'

'Good boy,' Irina says, maintaining uncomfortable composure despite being halfway balls-deep inside of me. 'Mummy loves this sweet little bum, Theo. Mhm.'

She fondles my backside, squeezes, kneads the fat of my cheeks. What can I do but take it? Bent over her desk, staring at the office door, splattering my boxers – she tore the back part, promising to reimburse me – with a seemingly endless quantity of jism. I'm powerless here. And it's part of my contract, no matter my reservations.

The job is good. The job is good. The job is–

'Sh-it.'

I bite down, press my palms against the mahogany. Her cock is like a spear of radiant heat, throbbing so angrily, so needily. It demands that my body pleasure it. Demands that I submit to it. Demands that I blow my load again and again and again, making such an uncomfortable mess in my ripped-open boxers but I can't fucking stop.

'Mummy's good boy.' Irina exhales, drives herself into me, every hilting producing an ear-tickling thwup when her enormous balls slap against my badly-exposed buttocks. 'So deserving of–mhm–all this affection. All this wonderful naughty after-work special treatment.'

Her words are poisoned honey, some discomforting fusion of the pleasant and the perverse. I'd be insane, and a liar, to pretend as though this isn't enjoyable. As though being mounted, ridden, ploughed by my statuesque and gorgeous futanari boss, Irina Blackwell, is anything less than an experience to enjoy both in the moment and look forward to after the fact, knowing that it will be repeated time and again in my years here.

'Ugh. Jesus.'

Is it so wrong, to enjoy the act? To have gone from the man I was, a victim of my boss's sexual predations, to this current self, this one who signed a contract and agreed to this fate. Who agreed to become Irina's plaything, of sorts, and both service her cock and ride upon it. To service her and not taste her cum – because to do so is now a carnal choice, a test of my strength of character – and to ride her big dick to the point that she, inevitably and invariably, utterly plugs my backside with the thickest and muskiest of creampies.

I'm at her mercy. Those beautiful yet deceptively strong hands, gripping my hips, hold me steady while she pummels me. The thrusting goes from slow and steady to fast and forceful, driving more than a foot of futanari cock deep into my body, splitting my arse in the most guiltily glorious of ways.

'Such a sexy thing you–mhm–are, Theo,' Irina says, leaning atop me. Her breasts, bound as they are by a super-strength bra and behind the thin cloth of her white blouse, nonetheless have such intense weight to them where they fall against my back. 'I should probably be paying you more, shouldn't I? But then again, I do treat you so well.'

Her breath is sweet, faintly tinged by the tell-tale pine-bitterness of her characteristic Martinis. The act is vulgar and yet illicitly intimate, somehow threatening affection in these brief moments where she leans atop me and presses that overtly-endowed womanly form atop mine. That Mummy-play, such a thing of lusty perversion, nonetheless deepens the eroticism of this sordid submission.

It's unbecoming, to fall to her like this. To submit to her. Worse, to remind myself of the trade I made, the choice. That I picked work, picked my career, and in return gave away my pride.

'Ugh. Damn.'

I writhe, because how can I not? Her cock is incredible. A thing of heat and thickness, a weapon to be wielded both for bringing her pleasure and in the process forcing me to capitulate. To produce sweet sounds, whimpers and moans, a little chorus of noises that tickle her ears as she tickles mine with that sweet damp breath.

Irina kisses the back of my neck, tastes my skin with her goosebump-inducing tongue. 'I own you, don't I?' She chuckles, almost giggles, that perfect voice at odds with what it suggests. 'Years and–mhm–years of this.' Thwap go her weighty testicles, the fattest roundest pair of bollocks I can picture, as they slap against my backside. 'Years and–aah–years of enjoying one another's company. Oh, cumming again, baby? Perhaps you should be paying me, instead!'

I practically growl, deeply uncomfortable and yet awash in awesome pleasures. Irina really, really knows how to use her body. To use her words, to tickle at dirty desires and feculent fantasies that bubble up to the surface from the depths of my being.

I've got to survive. I've got to focus on the future, on the dream, on the way things have to be now so that they can be different eventually. The fleeting vision of Maddie, behaving for my sake much as I'm currently behaving for Irina, is a soothing complement to such wilfulness. The pretty blonde, in so many ways responsible for this fate, is going to have her comeuppance and put right more than one wrong.

'I-rina!'

She hilts herself in me, blowing a cock-shaped hole through my veil of thoughts. All the world is her penis, that broad length with its bulky head, a drilling impaling skewer of a thing, treating my body like some glorified cocksleeve. A means to an end, a source of pleasure, but not a person in and of myself.

I should find the thought utterly reprehensible, but surprise-surprise, I don't. The person I'm discovering through this, the true Theodore Brackley, is not who I imagined myself to be.

As my darkly delicious futanari boss ravages my backside, it's clear beyond doubt that the real reason I was so gloomy after she raped me was in fact nothing to do with the act itself and everything to do with what it unearthed. Like shifting a patio slab, finding so many creepy crawlies, when the garden otherwise seems beautiful.

'Who's your Mummy?' Irina says, lifting off of me. She squeezes my hips, fondles my bum. 'Tell me–ugh–Theo. Answer me. Who's your fucking Mummy?'

'Y-ou, Irina. You're my Mummy. Y-ou're–'

She thrusts like a beast, all of a sudden. Not gentleness, no consideration.

I'm slammed, again and again, into the desk. The wood whines, the world itself seems to creak, all the while I cum buckets and drool, completely and utterly cock-addled, her gargantuan girth hitting every spot inside of me as though she's in possession of some crude map that signposts every possible pseudo-G-spot.

'Damn–mhm–right, baby boy. Mummy's good, good–ughn–boy.'

I manage to glance back at her, to find her on the cusp of climax. Those beautiful lips strained, one at the mercy of her teeth. Blouse a mess, cleavage spilling forth, that overworked bra struggling as she pumps into me with primal potency. Sharp-featured good looks, Aphrodite-grade beauty, easily the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Tall and dominant, brilliant-eyed and vigorous in her lovemaking.

She hilts herself again, lifting my feet from the floor. I throw them about wildly on reflex as contractions ripple through her, as Irina rolls her head backwards and moans in relief. The force of her efforts, and the reverberations of her climax, drive my continual spasming all the further into the realm of self-obliteration.

'Ughn. M-ummy.'

Her cock swells in me, and those bloated balls pulsate against my smaller ones. Beyond the heat of her spooge, which comes in vast quantity, as thick as cream, I'm struck by a dirtily psychological notion.

That this beautiful woman is seeding me, that she's claiming me, that the stuff filling me up is unmistakeably hers and hers alone. This welcome sensation, of being completely loaded, my innards plugged with her richly potent semen, is something at once grotesque and divine.

'Good boy,' Irina says, gasping, sighing. 'My good, good Theo.'

Is it shameful, to love this? I don't have a romantic connection with this woman. I'm not here, going through this, because of something close to even a sex-friend situation.

She raped me, and then I signed a contract to get a better job. I signed over my body to my rapist, choosing wealth and a future over sanctity of self. And now this week alone I've sucked her cock twice, and on this Friday evening, she's ejaculating inside of my bowels. My rapist, who took me by force, who seemed to think that if anything she was doing me a favour, is now getting free use of my body because I agreed to it.

And worse, I love it. It's like nothing else. A degree of sexual bliss I've never before experienced. Something utterly and completely insane.

The opening of a drawer reels me back to reality. Something thuds atop the desk, and while Irina is still shooting, her faculties are returning. She watches me serenely, eyes afire, beautiful beyond reason. I should hate her, should be disgusted, but I'm not. Even as she licks her lips, viewing me as prey, as food for the hungry fires of her lust, I am too far gone.

'I want to be inside you for–mhm–as long as possible,' my boss says, picking up a girthy plastic plug from beside my hips. 'This is for you, baby. To keep Mummy's milk right up inside that–aah–cute little bum so that all that naughty cream doesn't make too much of a mess.'

Her glans still flares, spits. Less now, weaker, but the sheer bulk of the thing is unmistakeable, and the way it ripples heat throughout my insides is a thing of gruesome glory. Her semen, thick and musky and rich, sloshes about. If anything, given how messy this situation is, the butt plug might even be welcome.

'R-ight, Mummy.'

Her eyes shift when I say that word. That carnal title. Mummy . Her affection is venomous gold, a thing ultimately evil and yet somehow appealing. It provokes a fuzziness in the head, oxytocin of raw-dogged fucking helping things along.

Never submit. Never submit. Never submit.

But I can enjoy this. That's okay. It might even be healthy.

'Such a sweet mouth,' Irina says. 'On such a sweet boy.' She gives a gentle pat to my backside, one cheek and then the other. 'You're built for this, baby. Built to–mhm–make Mummy happy.'

'Y-es, Mummy. I…'

She cocks her head, a vicious veneer making murky her beauty. 'Oh?'

'I'm glad, Mummy. That's all. I…I'll do my job well.'

Irina chuckles. 'You will, Theo. So, so, so well.' Another pat, this one culminating in a squeeze. 'Clench down, baby. Don't let a drop spill out now.'

She winces gleefully as I grip her shaft between my cheeks, in the process wringing out of it any straggler sperm. There's a dirtily delightful schpop when the seal breaks, when at last her heavy helmet is free of me. It's so weighty that it notably thuds when it comes down against the desk, a noise both worrying and wondrous.

'Good boy,' she says. 'Let's seal up that tight little bum.'

The plastic makes me tremble, not from girth but coolness. An alien thing compared to the throbbing fire of her erection, but welcome insofar as it prevents leakage. And maybe I'm imagining it, but it feels as though there's quite a lot to leak, given how my guts slosh and shudder with copious quantities of her cum.

'Dinner tomorrow.' Irina pulls away from me, giving me one last playful pat. She sits herself down, breathy-voiced, eyes a little hooded. 'The first of many. Dress up nice, and I'll pick you up at six-thirty. Are you excited, baby?'

I steady myself, standing upright. The whole process is awkward, what with my backside wedged shut as it is. To do this in front of someone, besides, is all the worse. Her emerald eyes bore into me as I clumsily reach for my trousers, cold cum disgusting against my crotch. Grim.

'Y-eah, Mummy. Very.'

'You're a little shaky, Theo,' she says, quickly on her feet. A hand on my shoulder, squeezing softly. 'I'd be happy to give you a lift home, if you can wait a little while.'

'I'll be fine.'

I pull away from her, even though she's right. My body quakes, as if all those simultaneous orgasms are perpetuated and congealed, lengthened to the point of blissful engulfment. When I move my legs quiver, and my feet are unsteady, but I'm not going to drive just yet. I'll sit in my car if I have to, sit in the dark of the car park.

I'm not spending more time with Irina than necessary. It's bad enough as it is.

'Suit yourself, honey,' my boss says, a lilt of humour to her sultry voice. 'Six-thirty. Remember it. I don't want to be disappointed. You'd have to make it up to me.'

'Got it,' I say, reaching for the door, not looking back. 'Goodnight, Irina.'

'Goodnight, Theo.'

It takes the better part of half an hour to calm down.

I've never been so drained, except perhaps as on the first night, but today it's not knocked me into unconsciousness. Sex has never been so powerful before. I didn't know my body could reach such states, could leap from climax to climax to climax, but it can. And Irina's body is the ticket, the enabler of ecstasy.

I flip down the overhead mirror and look at myself. There's pride, of a sort, returning. I'm making good money, and as much as I'm degrading myself to do it, the price is right. The man in the mirror is still not me, but not in a bad sense. He's not a wretched shadow of who I was but some branching variant, twisted into another, newer shape. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to go backwards, but I can go forwards.

I will . I must .

The daydream, throughout the week, has been of Maddie. Maddie, as my assistant. My assistant, tied to a contract not dissimilar from my own, who'll suck my cock and let me fuck her and use her body just as Irina uses mine. A carrot, dangled, and slow to achieve. A work in progress, as Irina calls it. Something to look forward to but not here just yet. These things take time, after all, and particularly those that involve human factors.

I sleep easily, at least. I'm not exactly excited about the date tomorrow, but I'm not scared either. Did I call it a date? I suppose it is, though there won't be sex. I'm sure Irina will try, but she's not getting it like that. The contract is all. Two blowjobs, one bout of anal. That's it, that's her weekly ration of fucking. Nothing more.

It's bothersome, how readily I seem to embrace this new world.

The man in the mirror isn't frightful. He's not his best, sure, but he's far from his worst. Somehow, it's okay. So long as I'm doing well with my career, so long as there's a bright future ahead of me, I'm not all that concerned about the situation with Irina. I'm already tainted, after all. Already soiled. If I'm going to get all funny about prostituting myself, then it's important to remember that. To know the damage has been done.

And she is charming. Is good at doing what she does.

Irina Blackwell picks me up in a chauffeured Rolls Royce, its rear cabin extended to create some micro-lounge where we sit. She sips a Martini, as is her custom, wearing a revealing crimson dress that shows off what, ultimately, there's little point in hiding. With killer curves like hers, it's not like any amount of clothing is going to matter. Breasts that big are no less alluring and eye-catching in a blouse or a sweater, and some dirty part of me relishes the fact that they're on show.

I have to enjoy the not-so-little things, after all.

'You're quite fetching in that outfit, Theo,' Irina says, slinging an arm across my shoulders. She strokes me, warm weight of her body pressing against mine. Sweet smells, fruitiness, an acid note of Vermouth and a piney hint of gin. 'Will I get you out of it, I wonder?'

'If it's not in the contract, then no.'

She chuckles, kisses the side of my head. 'Oh, you make this so fun , honey. It's beyond attractive, this little wilfulness of yours. Blowing ten loads on my big fat cock and then having the wit to deny me outside of my own rules.'

I sigh. Sigh, because this is just so wrong . To think that I fancied this woman to such an insane degree, was so eager to leap into the bedroom with her. It could've been a beautiful thing, and instead is something sordid. Endlessly disappointing. To learn of Irina's true self, and my own as well.

Her, a depraved predator. Me, a money-minded slut.

'You'll get Maddie,' she says, speaking low, conspiratorial. A sultry voice, for a sensual woman. 'I'm already working on that little detail. We're in this together, baby.'

I nod, carrot leading me. 'Good. So long as we are.'

She spends the journey tight against my body, breathing and whispering dirty things into my ear, kissing my cheek and the side of my head. I don't hate it. It's the worst thing about it all, that I don't hate it. That somehow, I don't hate her .

To be at her side as we go into the Generous Gourmet, a three-times Michelin Star restaurant, knowing that whatever I ask for I'll receive, is insane . That she is so jaw-droppingly gorgeous, more woman than most can ever be, and that she's with me and I'm with her, imbalanced as our relationship is, is sheer lunacy .

And after settling in I talk. Answer her questions, speak about life, act as though she's not a predatory rapist. As though she doesn't have a sex contract with my name on it.

Is it just a human thing, to be able to compartmentalise like this? To separate, out of necessity, what is evil and what is not?

The woman is discomforting, but not because of what I know her to be.

Irina Blackwell is tall and resplendently attractive, her skin dusky and exotic, body insanely voluptuous with the mammoth size of her 44K breasts and the way her hips curve to suggest unmatched femininity. Her hair, dyed crimson and braided, hangs to the left tonight, asymmetrical. That characteristic makeup of hers, vaguely Egyptian around the eyes, lips bursting with ruby allure, is on-point.

And when she speaks, there's no hint of the dark nature of our bond. The jokes she tells, the stories, the questions she asks, are all bothersome in their genuineness. I actually enjoy conversing with her, dangerous as I know her to be, arrogant and entitled as she is, believing herself so fundamentally great that she had the right to rape me and that if anything our current state of affairs is some grand luxury I should be praising her for.

'You know that it's okay to speak your mind, yes?' Irina says, during a brief pause between topics. 'I'm well aware that your opinion of me isn't so great.'

'Are you a mind reader now, as well?'

She flutters her eyelashes at me, sips her Martini. The third of the evening, not including the one in the car, but if the alcohol affects her I can't possibly say. 'One doesn't require telepathy to be aware of the general low-grade rebelliousness that lines everything we do together, Theo. I appreciate that you likely hate me, and I'm glad that you do.'

Such a strange sentiment, provoking a kind of bubble of silence. Just around us, just here in our little corner seat, a round table with a candelabra upon it, the room dimly lit to create an atmosphere of romance and mystery.

'You're glad for it?'

Irina smiles, cocks her head to the side. The braid shudders, a winding length of beautiful hair. 'Don't they say that everything in this life is about sex, but sex itself is about power? It's true, you know. Sex gives me power over you, and I want that power like nothing else on Earth. I would trade all the wealth, all my possessions for that most delicious draught, but thankfully I don't have to.'

I stare at her, beyond the hungry flames of the trinity of candles. 'You already have power over me,' I say, tentatively reaching for my water. No booze. Not around her. 'The contract allows–'

'The contract is the furthest thing from power, Theo,' my boss says. She idly twirls the olives in her drink, the alcohol content – only the strongest of gins, and plenty of them, for Irina Blackwell – giving it a vaguely oily and distorted appearance. 'Real power is what kings of old have. What religious figures have. A contract can be removed, destroyed. Sure, you lose your job, but you gain back your freedom. The kind of power I want can never be taken away, just as the religious can never be free of their Gods.'

It's a perverse thing that I understand her immediately. That I know just what she wants.

Perhaps I was always wired to be receptive to such things. Perhaps she fucked it into me.

'I'm never going to just be yours, Irina. Not as you want. You're deluding yourself if you think I'll wake up one day and just serve you.'

She goes to speak, but our food arrives. Those emerald eyes show not a hint of doubt, and if anything suggest eagerness, as though what I'd just said was not a rebuke of her interests but rather a confirmation that she's soon to get her way.

Chateaubriand steak. Triple-cooked chips. A mixture of little sides – mash, macaroni cheese, wild mushrooms – to accompany the bulk of the meal. I got half a kilo of steak, but Irina got a whole one. The futanari, Amazonian as she is, eats at once with clean grace and beside it an appetite most men can't match.

And between bites, she talks. 'It doesn't say anything about calling me "Mummy", in that contract.' Irina's smile is a sickle thing. She cuts a neat chunk off of her steak and lifts it, pausing before her full lips. 'Yet you do it anyway, because you know it's fun.'

I chew slowly, on thought and food both. Is she right? Why am I doing something if the contract doesn't call for it?

'The fact is, Theo, that you enjoy our time together,' Irina says. 'I'm not stupid. And I'm not speaking about purely physical responses, either. Come on, honey. You know I'm gorgeous. I tick all your boxes, and some you didn't know you had. It didn't take anything to get you into bed that first time, after all. You wanted me just as much as I wanted you.'

'That doesn't change the present situation.'

'Doesn't it? You still want me, Theo. And that stubborn streak in you that so desperately wants to act all aloof and almighty, just to avoid admitting that maybe there's something special in submitting to someone like me and relishing all the pleasures that come with such submission, is not going to survive.' She slowly shakes her head. 'You're not going to quit, because the job is good and you know it. But I revise my predictions.'

'What predictions?'

'Where you'll be by Christmas,' she says. 'I think come July, come our summer holiday, you'll be mine. The contract won't matter, because you'll treat me with the reverence I deserve. Reverence you're already hinting at, and it's only been a week.'

I reach for the water, wishing I'd chosen something stronger. 'You're delusional.'

My boss smirks. 'We'll see about that, won't we?'

But the thought sticks, clinging like glue, making a mess of my evening. Irina is unbearably smug on the way home, but she does nothing more than put her arm around my shoulders.

It should be the easiest thing in the world to prove her wrong, but I can't seem to find a way. It manages to make Saturday the sleepless night, despite Sunday being a day all to myself. I'm unable to escape the awful possibility of Irina being right , and this being a temporary matter. That my rejection of her will, in time, wither and weaken. Fade to nought.

But Sunday evening proves interesting. I get a text from Irina, saying merely, "Check your emails. Love, Mummy XOX," and find a link therein. An email from her, with a shared storage, password attached.

It already has two videos. The first is titled "Maddie's first futa," while the second is named "Slutty Mads will definitely sign."

Professionalism is worthless, somehow. The twin excitements of seeing Maddie naked, of seeing Irina fucking her, has me instantly hard. I bring my laptop to the coffee table and lay down on the sofa, putting on the first video. Office footage, from…Thursday? The camera must be in one of the corners at the back, watching the desk at such an angle as to–

Has she filmed me , as well? A dark worry, but my cock's already in my hand. It can wait a little while, though the video is an hour long. A whole fucking hour? Jesus Christ. And it begins with Irina sitting behind her desk, those elegant glasses on, looking professional as can be despite being about to feature in what amounts to amateur porno.

'Maddie,' Irina says, as the curly-haired blonde walks inside. 'I've been meaning to organise this meeting for a while now. It concerns your prospects here at Blackwell.' She stands as Maddie approaches the desk, and Irina gestures for the seat on the other side. 'Please Mads, get comfortable.'

Maddie looks her usual beautiful if vaguely vanilla self, in an airy blouse that hints at the fullness of her breasts and the curves of her hips. Her makeup is subtle but well done, and it's hard not to find natural appeal in her straightforward good looks.

She never used to look at Irina as she does now. Alone, just the pair of them, knowing what we've spoken about, she's already blushing faintly. Picturing me and my boss? Picturing herself with Irina? Recalling what she's already seen with her own eyes?

'Thank you, Irina,' Maddie says, flashing a quick smile as she takes the seat. 'Theo had actually mentioned an assistant role?'

'He had? Good. Then you're already ahead of things.'

Irina walks behind her, their disparate sizes obvious. Maddie's not the shortest of women, but our Amazonian futanari boss makes me feel short, and Mads has always seemed small in comparison to myself. Irina dwarfs her, in so many ways.

'But do you know something?' our boss says, resting her hands on Maddie's shoulders. 'Theo talks to me, as well. About many things, but especially about a certain interest you have in a certain part of my body.'

Maddie's face goes bright red. 'Um, Irina, I–'

'Shush, honey. It's okay. The truth is that you're going to get the assistant role regardless, but I'd be lying if I didn't like the idea of getting to know you a little better. A lot better, in a certain sense.'

Irina spins the younger woman's chair about, looming over her when it comes to a halt. She takes a firm hold of Maddie's shoulders and leans forwards, braid swinging over a shoulder, bounteous breasts each almost as big as Mads's head. The blonde, seeming so dainty now, looks up at our boss and trembles.

'Irina, I don't think we–'

Irina puts a finger upon her lips. 'Hush, honey. You don't need to think. Just reach forwards and take off my skirt. Decide when you see it.'

The hesitation in Maddie's voice is completely at odds with her movements. There's no such reluctance in the way she reaches out, scrambling to free the bulky beast she knows is waiting between the dominant futanari's thighs. And Irina does this thing, this telling look, right at the camera. As if she's looking straight at my face, my boss smirks broadly, and winks.

'Jesus,' Mads says as the skirt falls away. Lacking underwear, Irina's over-a-foot-long dick swings freely, set atop a pair of the largest testicles I can imagine on a human being. 'You're huge.'

She reaches down between her legs but remembers herself, stopping short. Irina chuckles.

'You can touch yourself, Mads. I don't mind. Just make sure to touch me, as well.'

I'm not sure what I expected, but it's not what occurs. The immediate enthusiasm, the clumsy one-handed groping of the big dark dick while Maddie fiddles between her thighs, digging a hand into the front of her jeans. And then she's sucking, passionately working the huge head of Irina's mighty member with her full-lipped mouth.

My boss looks at the camera again, smiling all the prouder. As if this serves two purposes, as if it's not just about getting that special contract, but somehow as well lording over me the ease with which she's managed to get Maddie involved.

The buzz of my phone catches me off-guard. Irina .

'Hello,' I say, cock still in hand, video still going.

'Enjoying the show?' my boss says. 'It came out quite well, I think.'

'Are you spying on me?'

'No, but I know you by now, Theo.' Irina chuckles. 'You're a dirty boy, at heart. How could you resist seeing pretty blonde Mads enjoying herself? It's quite the performance.'

'A whole hour?'

On the screen, Maddie is eagerly bobbing her head. The Irina in the video strokes her hair, plays with those bouncy curls. 'Good girl,' our recorded boss says. 'The enthusiasm is ever so appreciated, Mads.'

'A whole hour,' the Irina of the present says. 'And the other – I just made it this morning – is two-and-a-half.'

Twisted though it is, I'm envious. I never had hopes for anything with Maddie, but it doesn't mean I don't want her. Doesn't make the fact that Irina is so readily able to get the pretty woman who before seemed so out of reach on her dick in no time at all, any easier to accept.

She's lapping at the futanari's glans now, treating it like the most succulent of lollipops, worshipping Irina's thickly contoured crown with her pretty pink tongue and those lovely lips. Kissing, sucking, smooching, as if already smitten.

'Mads is a lot more fun than I expected the boring blonde to be,' Irina says, drawing me from my thoughts and my steady masturbation. 'But I was thinking of you, Theo. I was imagining it was you the entire time.'

Of course , she'll say such a thing. But it doesn't make the twitching throb of my dick, as if a loyal hound mentioned by its name, any easier to accept.

I shouldn't care at all.

'Why are you calling?'

'To give a commentary? To hear the sweet envy on your breath? She's quite the lay, Theo. You're going to have a lot of fun with her.'

After you've had your way with her first. When you get her for nothing. All because she really wants you, and not me, but your cock is apparently so good that she's going to do everything possible to mine just for a chance at regular access to yours. But I don't give Irina the satisfaction.

'Good. I look forward to it,' I say, watching as the scene begins to shift. The conversation in the background, out of focus, concerns where Maddie wants the first of Irina's loads. Inside seems to be the important takeaway. 'Anything else?'

'I'm watching it again myself,' Irina says. 'Do me a favour, honey. Pretend that you're Maddie. See how quickly that makes you cum.'

'Who says I'm–'

'Theo, must I always tell you how un-stupid I am?' She chuckles, voice sultry, divine, deviant. 'It's me , honey. Mummy. I know your insides better than anyone else in the world, and I know how that head works, as well. Enjoy yourself. Wank away. It only makes it easier on my end, knowing that the effort wasn't wasted.'

To watch Maddie bent over our boss's desk, plump backside on display, is erotic enough by itself without seeing her spread her cheeks with her hands to reveal the perfect pink of her – I can only imagine – tight little pussy. And it only gets hotter, to a disturbed degree, to see Irina Blackwell lining herself up, getting that ferocious mast of man-meat, not so much as wrapped in a condom, ready to penetrate the beautiful blonde.

I'm struck by envy, deep and rich and surprisingly good at making the pleasure of touching myself all the fiercer.

'Ugh.' The groan escapes my mouth as Irina's helmet prods and pokes, slipping into those tight pink lips. Maddie arches her back, hands pressed atop the desk, straining to steady herself as the immense length of our Amazonian futanari boss makes its first forays into her womanhood.

'Hot, isn't it?' the Irina of the present says to me. 'Her cunt is almost as tight as your arse, Theo. Honestly I should be thanking you, because I've never enjoyed a woman's body quite as much as I enjoy Maddie's.'

'It's…it's that good?'

My voice comes out unbearably breathy, strained as I am. I can't stop stroking myself, can't stop staring, can't believe I'm seeing Mads being mounted by Irina. Can't believe, at once, how much I envy my boss and yet long for that special contract to come into effect, regardless of whether the act is mere duty or passion in itself.

'It's wonderful, honey. And it helps that she's of that age.'

'That age?'

'Young, Theo. Her body wants what it's designed to want. She's a woman and, much as I'm not exactly a man, I do the role quite well, I like to think.'

She can't mean what I think she does. Can she? 'I don't follow.'

'I'm pretty sure that in the heat of the moment, if she wasn't on the pill, I'd have knocked her up. It felt like her womb wanted what only I could give it,' Irina says. And to hear it sends me uncomfortably close to climaxing. My boss chuckles, almost giggles. 'My, you're a dirty one, honey. I heard that gasp.'

'I–'

'It's okay, Theo. If it helps things along, to imagine that I'm impregnating her, then do it. We're just animals, honey. Just beasts, with big brains. All of those confusing thoughts, those dirty notions, make sense in light of that.' Irina's words, in such a wonderful voice, merge with the sloppy frustrated moans emanating from the laptop's speakers. My cock strains. I'm not sure I've ever been so aroused in the act of mere wanking. 'Would you want to taste my sperm then, baby? When their quality had been so proven, laying claim to the supple womb of that silly little blonde? Imagine savouring my loads after such a dirty happening. Tasting the would-be brothers and sisters of the thing I'd have set growing inside of Maddie's pretty flat tummy.'

I tune her out, her disturbed mind at once wicked and yet apparently touching on something that makes my cock all the firmer, makes my load feel all the closer. Maddie is shaking on the screen, hips held tightly by the taller futanari, her body so small compared to her partner's and yet doing a fine job of accommodating such a huge and heavy cock.

It shouldn't be so arousing. Shouldn't be so readily able to urge me towards climax, but it is.

Hearing Irina's voice, hearing her recorded grunts and moans as they overlay Maddie's own, as this carnal deed plays out on my laptop screen, sends me over the edge. Completely obliterates the edge.

'Guh. Ugh.'

'Good boy,' Irina says as I blow my top, splattering my belly. 'I'm just so good, aren't I? We don't even have to be in the same room and I can have this lovely effect on you.'

As my warm load spills across my skin, as I keep stroking myself – to what? To what horrific compilation of thoughts and concepts? – I find it difficult to deny what she says. It's one thing to proclaim my independence, to act as though what exists between myself and my boss is something impersonal, but then I go and do this.

I watch Irina fuck Mads over her desk, knowing that she's going to shoot a fat load inside the blonde's tightly gripping snatch, and it's impossible to pretend that such a sight isn't all the more erotic for it having Irina in it.

For hearing, at the same time, Irina's dirty thoughts.

'Not everyone is naturally dominant, Theo,' my boss says, continuing to talk as I explode. 'Maddie is a natural submissive. In my presence, she does what I want, because she knows it's for the best. A lot of women are like that, but it's not a female trait. You've nothing to fear in being subservient to me, and as you well know, an awful lot to enjoy.'

I want her to shut up, want her to stop, want her gone, but her voice is divinely dark in its sultriness and her words potentiate an already fiery nut.

And as I writhe about on the sofa, a terrible guilt sets in.

'C-um in me,' Maddie says. 'I s-aw what you did in Theo's mouth and–'

Irina, in the video, takes her by the throat from behind and leans down atop her, speaking soft yet loud enough for the sensors on the camera. 'Such a dirty little slut, Mads. I hope you're on the pill.'

'I am. Of course. Shoot it all. All of it. Give me everything.'

Irina kisses her head, smooths down her blonde curls, which spring and bounce as her fingers pass them by. 'Good girl. It feels like it'll be quite the sight, seeing that–mhm–tight pink little entrance of yours drooling so much of me.'

To watch them copulate, mate, on some dark level breed , makes me wish I could cum again. It recalls Irina's cock inside of me, some crude parallel between myself and Maddie, our shared experience of the pleasure wrought by that weapon. Only with her body can I ejaculate repeatedly, or at least orgasm continually. Without it, I'm limited to the physiology of an ordinary male, my refractory period preventing me from fully enjoying the show.

'It was a bloody big one,' Irina says to me, as her recorded self moans and Maddie growls like a mated mare on the video. 'As I recall, it started leaking out.'

The mental image of such a virile cumshot, blasted straight into Maddie's tight little body, is at once unbecomingly sexy and depressingly shameful. Irina, cunning fiend that she is, has managed – as she always seems to achieve – some fine balance between exciting and embarrassing me.

'Yes,' Maddie says, whining, writhing. 'Do it! So much. So fucking hot. Mhm. Yes!'

Her body, wracked with pleasure, shudders and quakes as Irina Blackwell fills it with seed. The taller, older, dominant futanari slowly thrusts, mostly hilted, retrieving at most an inch before pushing herself in again, right up to – I can only imagine – the pretty blonde's womb .

I wish that were me. Wish I was there.

But the darkest part of my head is that I don't know in which spot. I somehow manage to envy them both. To long for the pleasure that only Irina has been able to give me, and at the same time to wish it was me blowing my load inside of Mads.

'A good gift?' Irina says, as her recorded self's load begins drooling out between Maddie's legs, splattering the floor. 'You're not saying much, Theo.'

'She's going to sign the contract?'

'Yes, honey. Watch the second video, when you get a moment. See how that enthusiasm remains, grows even stronger.'

I stare at the laptop as Irina pulls out, so much jism spilling free of that tight pretty pussy. No plug for Maddie. Preventing a mess is obviously not the reason, and it's abundantly clear that Irina does everything with a more carnal intent than worrying over mere clean-up work.

'The video keeps going,' I say, soft, confused, conflicted.

'Oh yes. Do you recall that first night we had? That'd be our average, if only you dispensed with that silly obsession with your contract. We could have real sex again, Theo. Not this austere two-person masturbation we currently engage in. Would that be so wrong?'

Irina is a machine. Forty more minutes remain, and her cock is still iron-rigid. I'd maybe pushed it aside, ignored the memory, but she's right. On that first night, she just kept going. Just like she seems to with Maddie.

'I…need to wash.'

'Of course you do,' Irina says, a lilt of humour to her lusty voice. 'You are Mummy's dirty little boy, after all. Feel free to call again, if you rewatch. This over-the-phone mutual masturbation is fun.'

'Goodnight, Irina.'

'Goodnight, honey.'

I don't move when the call ends. My cum is cooling, but my mind, in a state of clarity, can only attend to the continuing debauchery. Maddie's cum-glazed cunt being fucked continually, body constantly shuddering, pleasure through the roof.

Yes, she's going to sign, because she wants Irina's cock.

But the confusing array of feelings that result from such a realisation, a tangle of wants and doubts, aren't going to fade any time soon.

This is my life, isn't it? This is what I signed for.

I'm going to have to learn to love who I'm becoming, because he's not who I thought.

Chapter 5: Maddie's Affections

Summary:

Theo finds himself enjoying Maddie's affections, going beyond the mere rules of their "contract". But Irina has other designs, and a deal in mind, that threatens to make sordid use of Maddie's womb in the process...

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Maddie's Affections

There's something at once repulsive and rapturous, in rewatching the videos.

My new masturbation fodder, my new porn. Seeing Maddie worship Irina's cock and swallow her heavy loads, seeing her mount our boss and ride for England, seeing her completely submit to the dominant futanari over the course of almost four hours of recorded amateur pornography.

It's wrong, I know. Wrong to be jealous of Irina and somehow jealous of Mads, as well. To want to be the blonde, but to want to be my boss. To wank myself to the point of frustration several times a day, and to think about the pair of them even when neither is present.

It makes Monday a slow day, and Tuesday much the same, culminating with a long after-work blowjob and a terribly voluminous facial. I'm somewhat out of focus, dissociated, the process passing by in a dreamy state. One moment I'm knocking on Irina's door and the next I'm washing clean my face, at war within myself to cope with the fact that I both love and loathe what I am, where I am, and where I'm going.

Yet on Wednesday, the balance tips firmly into love .

'Theo,' Maddie says, appearing in my doorway, carrying a box of her possessions. 'I'm your new assistant.'

I give some noncommittal response, half-aware. Mads is in a blue shirt today, loose and airy to fit the summer heat. Her blonde curls are resplendent as ever, bouncing about as she moves. The attractive short woman, about my age, is a shadow of Irina's voluptuousness and yet striking in her own right. Her black skirt, running about her slender legs, draws the eye to smooth silky skin.

Our boss doesn't materialise, but Maddie puts down her box of things and then disappears for a while, before returning with some moving men carrying a new desk that fits neatly into the corner of my office. And when all is settled, and the door is closed, the pretty blonde woman hovers somewhere between the front of my desk and the seat of her own.

'Theo?'

She draws my attention from the screen. From the muted procession of fucking, my boss and this woman who helped to fuck me, in a sense. Who pushed me into something that is confusing, strange, and discomfortingly satisfying. Where might I be, if not for Maddie? Might I have instead remained down below, coping with the awkwardness? I certainly wouldn't be blowing Irina twice a week, being railed by her once, and going out for meals on Saturdays.

I certainly wouldn't be watching porn of the pair rutting like beasts, the clear dominant and the clear submissive, while Mads stands on the other side of my screen none the wiser.

'Yes, Maddie?'

'You…you really asked Irina to have me, well, service you? As part of my contract?'

How can I do anything but smile? Tendrilous is the energy that swims out from my head, tingling the tips of my fingers and toes. A powerful awareness that things aren't all bad. That some of it is actually going to go my way, just as I desire.

'I did,' I say, pushing my feet against the chair. The import, in creating some gap between my legs and the desk, invokes a redness in the young woman's cheeks. 'And I take it you signed?'

'I did,' Mads says, eyes a little wet. 'I just didn't…couldn't imagine…'

'There's a hierarchy here, Maddie. Irina at the top, me below Irina, and you below me. That's what your contract says, however it's been dressed up in legalese.' My cock is quivering, growing hard, at the brilliance of things. 'What's your quota?'

'Two blowjobs,' she says, glancing away. Her ordinarily pale cheeks are flush, the colour of summer strawberries. 'A titwank. And…you can fuck me once a week.'

It dawns on me, a thunderclap realisation, that this woman who seemed so out of reach is in truth a slut. She's never seemed hugely keen on me, and I've never been massively excited by her – Irina was always the main curiosity, and that didn't exactly turn out mundane – but here we are, each clearly wanting the other.

Is it the scenario that does it? Because Mads doesn't look at all disgusted. Her pretty blue eyes flick down to my lap and then trace out my form, running up my body and settling on my face before diving below again.

Does she simply enjoy the power imbalance?

'I want to cum in your mouth,' I say, tapping a foot. 'I want you to show me it, and I want you to swallow.'

She gingerly touches the front of the desk, fingers stroking. 'I never…never thought you looked at me this way. And after the thing with you and Irina, I…kind of doubted you were even inclined towards women, Theo.'

'My interest in Irina began because I thought she was a woman. Not because I knew she had a dick.'

Maddie slowly moves around to me, dragging her fingertips. 'Funny that we're kind of opposites,' she says. 'I had no interest because I thought she was a woman, but then she had that cock of hers…'

The beautiful blonde bites her lower lip, provoking a pang of jealousy. It's silly, really. To compare myself to Irina isn't to compare myself to some other man, but with someone borderline inhuman. The futanari is in many ways abundantly superhuman in her traits, with a cock more than a foot in length and balls that produce endlessly fat loads, and her stamina is off the charts.

And Maddie, slutty Mads, is a size-queen. I could have a porn-star cock and she'd still prefer Irina's inhuman impressiveness.

But it doesn't make the jealousy any softer.

'Is that…is that what I think it is?'

Her voice, momentarily cold, bites into me and yanks me back into the present. The video. Shit! But to my surprise, Maddie giggles. She stares, blush growing deeper, brighter. I find myself frozen, halfway towards the mousepad, ogling the pretty woman with her hand stuffed down her skirt and the faintly sweet scent of her coochie juices wafting up as she begins to play with herself.

'She told me that she'd sent you a copy,' Maddie says, smiling strangely. 'I didn't imagine you'd want to watch it, though.'

'It's…it's hot,' I say, swallowing a lump in my throat. 'Shameful, but–'

She shakes her head, curls bobbing. Mads turns to me, lips wet, eyes alight with lusty passion. 'I think we're past shame, Theo.' The pretty blonde begins to lower herself, putting her hands on my knees. Her fingers, previously set to pleasuring her pussy, are visibly sticky, glistening. 'This isn't how I planned to work my way up, but here I am all the same.'

I take hold of her sticky hand by the wrist, provoking a widening of her eyes. 'You're dirty. And a fucking hypocrite.' Maddie can only stare, shocked, as I yank the digits of that soiled hand towards my mouth. She trembles as I lick at her fingers, sucking them inside. 'Mhm.'

Slurp. Schlup.

'Th-eo…'

She tastes good. Clean, salty, a little sweet. Sticky as hell, eager to the point that it can't just be Irina who does something for her. This coochie isn't expecting Irina, after all, and it certainly has no suggestion of the dominant futanari about it. I'm too familiar with our boss to be mistaken about such.

'In this room, you're mine,' I say, releasing her fingers. They twitch a little, and her eyes flutter. No displeasure, but an immense degree of surprise. 'Not Irina's. Here, you're my toy. To make up for the fact that it was you who did this. You, who should've sided with me and not our boss, when you fucking knew she had a dick, when you knew that I didn't know that, and when you blamed me all the same.'

'Theo, I'm sorry I–'

She yelps a little when I seize her head, digging my fingers into those pretty curls. Innocent ringlets, when this woman is the farthest thing from such. And when I shove her head down against my crotch, against the prominent bulge therein, her eyes glisten and on some perverse reflex she kisses the shape, her hands scurrying to fondle my budding boner.

'Sorry for what? Make this better. I can't go back, but I can go forwards. And you're going to make the future a whole lot brighter.'

I don't have to command her. Maddie masterfully manages my belt and zipper as though she's done it endless times before, young and eager and modern. And all power to her, really. All power to anyone who wants to enjoy themselves.

But it doesn't justify how she treated me. No amount of apologising is going to send me into that alternate timeline, where Maddie supported me and showed empathy and presented solidarity.

Still, though.

A blowjob will do wonders.

Schlup. Schlick. 'Mhm. Mumph.'

'Ugh. Mads.'

There's no reluctance. She latches onto my cock like a vampire to an exposed throat, taking in my foreskin-wrapped head and suckling on it with dedication, going so far as to jam her tantalising tongue up into the folds and tend to the opening of my helmet with saliva-slicked salaciousness.

'Mumph. Mhm.'

Those pretty blue eyes look up at me, demanding something. An almost pleading look, a gaze suggestive of neediness. I've never seen it on a partner before. Blowjobs were always things that I was lucky to get, not something on demand. Not that this is, not entirely, but…

…contract-controlled Maddie is giving head with more passion than anyone else ever has.

'You're fucking–guh–filthy,' I say, urging her, twisting my fingers about her curls. 'Fantastic at sucking cock, though.'

It surprises me, how naturally it comes. To channel all the resentment I feel at this situation into something sexual, to push down her head and force her to take my cock deeper and deeper into her slutty mouth. To bask in the suction of her cheeks, the hungriness of her tongue, and the tight opening to her throat. That throat, which I know all too well can handle my six inches, given that it readily takes Irina's twelve-plus.

Schlap. Slurp. Glugp.

'Mhm-hm.'

Her eyes seem to roll back into their sockets as my bell-end pushes into her tight throat, and Maddie sucks with all the wilder abandon. As if to be dominated in this way is as much a rush as to serve a huge cock. As if mine will do, even if it's not quite the size she'd like it to be.

And maybe she's just picturing Irina or maybe she's just wanting to vicariously please our dominant boss, but it's enough for me in the heat of the moment.

'Take it. Stupid fucking slut, take my–ugh–dick.'

I get both hands on her head and leave my seat, beginning to swing my hips. Taking out my anger, my frustration. To look down and witness half of the problem, the easily dealt with half, taking the entirety of my length inside her face, is a beautiful relief. To know that this isn't a one-off but a regular thing, that the blonde bitch from downstairs who could've been my friend but wasn't when push came to shove is going to suck me regularly, works wonders to set the world to rights.

Thup goes my balls against her pretty chin. Schlack goes her mouth, tightly sucking lips struggling from the sheer violent forcefulness of my thrusting. Glugp goes her throat, each and every time I spear into it, engulfing my cock in tremendous heat and a vice-like suction equivalent to any pussy I've ever fucked.

'Mhm. Mhah.'

Maddie is touching herself, flicking the bean with wild passion. Her eyes stay locked on mine, as though some element of penitence itself turns her on. That pretty button nose of hers is swallowed by my unkempt pubes, and every time my nuts swing against her jaw I'm pretty sure she sticks her tongue out to lap at them.

But I forget myself. Forget what I'd commanded. I've lost control, and yet gained it in another fashion. I wanted to be as Irina is, to sit and be tended to, but today I need to be as Irina was, and to take by force.

'Ugh. Cumslut bitch.'

I almost shout it, grunting as I deposit my load straight into the back of Maddie's slutty throat. A big one, pent-up despite my excessive ejaculations over the past days. As if arousal itself has done wonders to ensure I've got quite the healthy amount to release.

And it all sprays out straight into Mads, right into her body. My sperm, going straight down her throat, right into her belly. What a fucking satisfying thought that is.

She even goes so far as to swallow, to bob her pretty little neck, the movements and increased tightness only ensuring that I'm fully milked into her fuck-hole face. I notice too late that she's cumming herself, quivering and quaking, legs trembling against the floor and cheeks all the redder.

'Mhm-hm. Mumph.'

Schlup. Glagp. Schlack.

The blonde slut continues to suck and nurse on me, and even though it's passingly uncomfortable due to the post-orgasmic sensitivity, I'm hardly going to stop early. Not while she's still climaxing herself, using her hands with recklessness between her thighs and having her throat stuffed with my dick.

'Good,' I say, patting her head. 'Good. A million more and I–ugh–might actually thank you.'

There's no cum left for her tongue, by the time I pull away. Maddie is almost disappointed, as if I've managed to awaken something in her. An interested look in her eyes that didn't exist before.

A twin, perhaps, to that other notion: that I might not merely be interested in women, but plenty decent at taking control of them as well.

'Shit, Theo,' she says breathily. 'Where'd that come from?'

'From the same place it all does.' I shrug, and begin doing up my trousers. 'I'm a lot more of a pervert than I ever thought myself to be. Blame – or thank – Irina.'

Mads departs to clean up, hair messy and hands slick and breath smelling of my cum and cock. But she gives me that look as she goes, as if for permission. And in that look is something wonderful, as well.

A newfound appreciation?

Or the potential for one?

By the end of the first month of "working" with Maddie, I'm not sure what to make of things between us.

Sex with her is the highlight of my week, the only part of work that has me feeling something akin to normal. It has this suppressive effect on the Irina situation, stabilising the need to dissociate and wall myself off from the various compartments of my mind.

Sucking our boss's dick, riding it, become more palatable, because the simple addition of Mads's contract gives a new lens by which to see the world. No longer is it a simple matter of being perpetually at the mercy of my dominant futanari boss, but it's also the case that I have Maddie on something like a leash.

Blowing loads in her slutty mouth. Dropping creampies in her tight pussy. Fucking her D-cup breasts and giving her pearl necklaces as a result.

And it's weird, because I know on some level that she's doing this simply because it's in the contract, but on another…I think she enjoys it. As much as the pretty blonde is an obvious size-queen, that can't be the only major kink she has which transforms the otherwise mundane into something sublime.

And it's simply not so bad getting a heavy facial from Irina, knowing that I can give Mads one the following day if I so choose.

'A change of plans,' Irina says, when I'm done cleaning up after our Friday fuck. Even a bit dishevelled from her violent thrusting, with a glisten of sweat beading beneath her hairline, the exotic and enchanting Amazonian futanari is raw in her beauty, dark and delicious. 'Something's come up, so I won't be able to make the date tomorrow.' She fishes out one of her credit cards from her wallet, extending it towards me. 'I've spoken to Mads and she's willing to go in my stead. I did promise Saturday meals as part of your contract, and I'm nothing if not a woman of my word.'

'Are you sure?'

Her smile is undecipherable, cryptic in its crescent-lipped fullness. 'Entirely, honey. Mummy's special boy shouldn't suffer because of outside circumstances.' She winks at me, emerald eyes enrapturing. 'Go on, baby. It's already booked. Takeshi's in London. Two-star, but I'm sure they'll earn a third soon enough.'

I gingerly accept the card, wired around this woman to find something amiss. What's the trap, here? And yet just as worryingly, all the evidence of the last month, a week of my senior role and four with Maddie, suggests a certain amount of bothersome consistency to her behaviours.

The long game, I'm sure, but even so.

'Fine, I guess. Uh, thank you, Mummy.'

Irina chuckles warmly. 'It's no problem, baby. You're my best boy, and doing such a fine job with things.' She shoos me with a hand, running the other through her mane of crimson. 'Go on, Theo. Have a great weekend.'

Everything proceeds smoothly. Irina's chauffeur collects me at six-thirty, with Maddie already present. She's a little done-up, in fact, her makeup more sensual than its usual simplicity. Her dress is fairly long, reasonably conservative bar the way it presents plenty of amply-sized cleavage. Baby-blue, innocent like her curls, at odds with the voracious sex-slut that lurks within her mind.

We…we can actually sit and chat about things, and laugh, and it's not so dissimilar from old times, back on the lower floors. Mads is a few months younger than me, so we're on the same wavelength for the most part. Similar backgrounds, similar upbringings. And there's no threat, no predatory vulgarity looming in the shadows like there is when I'm with Irina.

The restaurant is beautiful, some Asian fusion upmarket establishment. We order a mixture of things, sushi and Thai food, rice dishes and noodles. A little splurge, but I keep a vague eye on the costing. Irina spends plenty more just on account of her endless run of expensive Martinis, whereas neither myself nor Mads goes hard on the boozing.

And when we're done eating, there's a peaceful lull.

'Do you like how things are?'

I say it, and she says it. Matter and anti-matter, provoking blushing laughter. A little awkward, mostly sweet. It's a reasonable question, given how involved we are. How strange the situation is both at work and between ourselves.

'You first,' Maddie says, beating me to the punch. She leans against a hand, elbow on the table. Pretty blue eyes, beautiful face, all made up. Her mascara makes those eyes pop, and her pale pink lipstick looks sweet enough to eat. 'Go on, Theo.'

I shrug. 'It's better now than it was. Now that you're here.'

She surprises me by reaching halfway across the table with her free hand. As if wanting me to take it, to wrap my fingers in hers.

'Theo?'

'Is this an act, Mads?'

Maddie shakes her head, golden ringlets shifting. 'No, but I appreciate that it might seem that way. Nothing in my contract says I need to like what we do, but I do , all the same.'

'Why?'

She smirks, blushes a little brighter. 'You're a good-looking guy, Theo. And I don't want to lose this job, so–'

'Money, then.'

Mads glares. 'Let me finish!' She rolls her eyes, playfulness setting aside the brief annoyance. 'I took the contract for money, okay? For money and for dick , yes, but…Irina's taught me a few things about myself.'

'Such as?'

She glances away, twists her mouth. 'There's no use having the biggest dick in the world at your disposal if the person who uses it doesn't really want you.' When Maddie sets her gaze back upon me, her eyelids flutter. 'Irina's not that interested in me, is she? All that she does with me is about you, really. Because you've got videos, too, and…and she fucks you better. She's there, completely there, fully available.'

A chill pokes at my spine, crawls up the bones in my back. Maddie's words are crisp and honest, wholly believable. It's weird to hear them, yes, but I can't take them for a lie. Irina's always seemed to have this about me, and I've seen her videos with Mads, and I've heard her own admissions.

I was thinking about you the entire time, honey.

It disgusts me, but it also makes my cock tingle. 'What are you saying, Maddie?'

She shifts that hand, curls and uncurls her fingers as if to clamour for my touch. 'I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. And there's no way, with the demands Irina makes on me, with what the contract makes on me, that I'm going to be juggling boyfriends as well. But…I do get sex where I feel wanted, once a week.'

She smiles sweetly, looking nervous. 'You're a pretty good dom, Theo. I'm sure it's just anger at me and channelling your frustrations, but–'

I reach for her hand, twisting my fingers through hers. Soft and silky, delicate. 'It's okay. You're a good outlet for me, as well. I don't feel, I don't know, scared around you.'

Mads cocks her head to the side, holding my hand. 'You never said if you like how things are. Not really.'

I find myself venting. Venting about how trapped I am, and how much Irina terrifies me. How stupid it feels to have sold my soul to this attractive but dominant devil, to sacrifice my life in the process, to have nothing in the way of my old dreams. But to realise at the same time that I like the money and I like the power and in some twisted sense I even like the way things are with Irina, as much as I don't fully grasp the reasoning.

And Maddie nods, listens, giving me squeezes at the right moments, actually being on my side . To speak, to be heard, lightens the burden on my heart. For the first time since this whole thing began, I've got a confidant. Got an ally, where before I was alone.

'Thank you, Maddie,' I say, when all's said. 'I…didn't realise how badly I needed to talk about this stuff.'

She rubs her fingers against mine. 'You're welcome, Theo. Anytime.'

'Do…do you like it here?'

She smiles, a touch guilty. 'It might sound weird, but despite what I said, I'm more sexually satisfied than I've ever been in my entire life. Irina really knows what she's doing, even if she's not really thinking about me.'

Somehow I can sit here and believe that this woman really does like me, really does feel more of a rapport with me than she does with our boss, and yet that admittance is a needle to the fabric of the soul, the puncture wound stealing warmth. As if my real worth here, the true test of whether or not things are genuine with Maddie, relies on the possibility that I'm better at sex than the dominant hung futanari with her endless stamina and massive loads.

And I hate myself for even worrying over it, but it's there all the same.

'Shall we get the bill?' I say, withdrawing my hand. Anxiety surging. Dread, questioning everything. That hard to unseat worry that I'm second-best.

Mads gives me a warm smile. 'What are you doing afterwards?'

'What?'

She rolls her pretty blue eyes. 'Do you want to come back to my place?'

It's this awful thing, that I process everything now in times of rotas and contracts and schedules, because my first thought is: I've had two blowjobs, had one titwank, had one over-the-desk screwing to ape what Irina does to me.

'You don't have to do this, Maddie. It's not–'

'Fuck the contract,' she says, grinning. 'The night's young, Theo. Let's enjoy ourselves.'

I'm not sure how it happens, but it does. I've no urge to dominate her suddenly, simply to be with her. To snog her in the car on the way back to her place, to eat her pretty little pussy and have my cock sucked to completion and then to cuddle and to grope and to writhe around in bed until I'm ready to go again, and we fuck, and fuck, and fuck.

Not harsh, not brutal, not for the most part. And I'd think she might fake it if not for the fact that Mads is a squirter and her whole body trembles in the wake of my affections. And then it slowly dawns that this is real and that we're outside the contract and that…that we're just two people having sex, enjoying one another.

And we spend all of Sunday doing the same. And back at work, the contract goes out the window. Daily blowjobs, plenty of snatch-licking. Titwanking when I want it, most days ended – and sometimes begun, when Mads is feeling extra frisky – with an over-the-desk ploughing.

In some weird way, I start to come around to the possibility that out of the dominance and the contract and the dirty dealings, I've found myself something like a partner. Someone to confide in, make love to, and actually open up for. To be vulnerable with. To have feelings for that aren't scary or at odds with how I know things should be.

But it's too good to be true, isn't it? And not because of anything Maddie does.

'What happened to your contract with Mads?' Irina says, a few Saturdays after the office romance kicks off. She smiles as she says it, neatly slicing through a large chunk of mostly-rare steak. Dangerous, predatory, even with her oozing gorgeousness. 'Did the little slut take a liking to you?'

'She…she wanted more than just raw fucking,' I say. And my anxious brain says, plays back in her voice: I'm more sexually satisfied than I've ever been in my entire life. Fuck you, brain.

'How sweet.' Irina smirks, eyes enticing in their emerald depths. Consuming, engulfing. Like to face them is to face a maelstrom of dominating depravity. 'In which case, I'd like to make an offer. One I'll talk through with Mads, and the both of you together. But I'll run it by you first, all the same. Seeing as you are, of course, the most important member in this little love triangle of ours.'

She eats a neat piece of meat, chewing quickly, sharply, and swallowing. Irina licks her lips and the sight sends a tremor through me, invoking a primal fear at once sensual and severe with such a simple movement of her tongue.

'My mansion, and one million pounds per year,' she says. 'Between the both of you. Rising with inflation, paid out of my pocket. For the rest of your lives.'

'What? You're just giving us that?'

My boss chuckles. 'There's a catch, Theo. It's a prize, to be won. And there's a competition I have in mind. One way or another, your situation with Maddie can continue. I'm not going to take her from you – you've been giving better head, and taking my dick all the sweeter, since her arrival on the scene – but I am going to make clear your place. If you lose.'

I twitch my fingers, suffer the weight of a nervous lump in my throat. 'What's the catch?'

'Mads is going to get off the pill. And I'm going to fuck her, just the once, after the fact. I'm going to attempt to breed her.' As she speaks, my blood runs colder and colder. That jealous streak is all the fiercer, but there's something else. Something vile, stirring up a thickness in my cock. A vision of those voluminous creampies, of that conversation over the phone that aroused me terribly. 'Afterwards, I'll have no more contact with her until things are settled , shall we say. And it would be in your best interest to forgo all other forms of sexual activity, focussing solely on trying to impregnate her yourself.'

Irina begins cutting another piece of steak, speaking with terrible nonchalance. 'When she's late, I'll pay for testing. We'll find out who the father is. Remember – my one load, your countless ones. And if you win, you get the money. You can run away, together, minted.' She licks her lips again, and I flinch. 'But if I win, Theo, if my one beats your countless, then I want you to move in with me. Both of you. I want you become my playthings, you in particular, and to do everything that I want. No more contract, no more limits. On-demand pleasure, whenever I want it. If that means spending a whole week under my desk, so be it. If that's my mood, you'll do it. And if you make this deal, and go back on it, I'll take away everything, and keep Mads as a useful womb for my descendants.' She lifts the bloodied piece of meat onto her fork. 'What do you say, honey? Does Mummy's game sound tempting?'

I zone out. Stare into space.

Maddie grabs my hand. 'We should do it,' she says. 'This frees us, Theo. It makes everything right.'

Dissociation? I'm alone, sat in my lounge, with Maddie at my side. Clutching me, sweet and flowery, warm and welcome and yet I'm filled with dread. Terrified that this deal is too good to be true. That she wouldn't offer it without it being a sure thing.

'Mads, she wouldn't offer it if she thought she'd lose.'

Maddie shakes her head, curls swaying. 'I know my cycle, Theo. I can pick a bad day, and she'd be shit out of luck. Irina would have to be superhumanly virile, and nobody shoots that many sperm, of that high quality.' She strokes my head, kisses my cheek, nuzzles my neck. 'I want to be free of this. We can be free of this. With money, and a life of our own. A big house! A million quid a year! Never having to work again.'

I want to believe her, but there's a niggle notion, sat in opposition. Because I know Irina Blackwell's body, and it's not mundane in the least. I know that she produces loads of such ridiculous quantity that no man can compete. Is she sterile? Is she virile? Somewhere in between? I don't know enough about her physiology.

But I do know that Irina wouldn't chance it.

'You'll win,' I say to her in her office, the next time we're at work. Mads wants to go through with it, but I'm still on edge. 'You'll win, and you know it.'

Irina, those half-rim glasses elegant upon her beautiful nose, simply shrugs. 'I'm willing to even the odds, if you're that convinced of my abilities, honey.'

'What's that even mean?'

'It means that I'll stop by on the day we decide on, and you can make sure I'm not giving my best.' Irina smirks, a sickle-thing, demonically seductive and terrible in its implications. 'Of course, I've got a rule. Given that my sperm, on that special day, is intended for a human body, you're going to have to take it inside of yourself instead.'

Reason dictates that yes, milking her as best as possible should, in combination with Mads keeping an eye on her cycle, limit the chances of conception. 'Fine. We can fuck all day.'

Irina shakes her head. 'Oh, honey, I've no interest in that. I think if you're so worried about my virility, then perhaps you should dispose of it. And isn't it about time that you started savouring before you swallow?'

'I…'

'Would it be so bad, Theo? Given that there's every chance you'll win, and we'll never have to do this again?'

Again I find myself zoning out, staring into space.

The choice is so capricious. A knife-edge thing. A chance at freedom, or heavier chains. If I win, then life will be blissfully simple. Do I want a child with Maddie? No, not exactly, but even if that falls apart, I feel as though I can trust her. We could split the money, sell the house, whatever. The sky's the limit. And if I lose, then…

…then some part of me is okay with that, as well. To meet those enchanting emerald eyes, all sharp with mischief and dominance, is not to be disgusted. This woman, my futanari boss, effortlessly enthrals me.

And that nobler, bolder, chancier part of me says: there's no way anyone, their balls utterly drained, can knock someone up. Not if Maddie picks a bad day, not if I do my part.

One million pounds per year, and a mansion.

'I'll do it,' I say, nodding. 'I'll take the chance.'

Irina Blackwell grins mercilessly. Baleful beauty, and a shiver up my back.

She knocks on the door on the Sunday we've chosen, at nine a.m.

Mads worked out her cycle, found this day to be the lowest chance of fertilisation. So low, in fact, that it's practically non-existent. You'd have to be so virile, have such ridiculously mighty sperm, that they'd not merely have the numbers but the endurance to survive until things looked brighter.

I find hope and a smile in that notion, even knowing I'm about to do something vulgar.

What, after all, is a day of sucking and swallowing a gorgeously evil futanari, if it means a final guarantee of victory?

Irina smirks smugly when I open the door, statuesque and sensual. She's in a knee-length black skirt with knee-high leather boots, her blouse-shirt purple and half-open to reveal her overflowing cleavage. Her crimson hair is done up in a high ponytail, eyes dark in their Egyptian styling, emeralds in her duskily beautiful face.

'Hello, honey,' my boss says. 'Might I come in?'

I nod, blush, wary of her and this and all that surrounds it. Irina steps inside and struts through to my living room, eyeing the place up with a kind of subtle judgement. Beneath her, and her grand wealth. A zoo environment, a cage for a human. She says nothing, yet her muted surprise – people actually live like this? – speaks volumes.

She wastes little time, however. 'God, I've been looking forward to today.' Irina unclasps her skirt and lets it fall around her ankles, stepping out of the clump of clothing. Her cock swings freely between her thick thighs, a length of dark and foreboding power. No underwear, but a lacy black garter belt and a pair of stockings that disappear into her high boots. 'Come on, Theo. Mummy's got ever so much milk for you.'

I tremble on the spot to behold her. My boss unbuckles her long boots and takes them off, curling and uncurling her tights-clad toes in the open air. She undoes her blouse, and removes her bra, freeing that enormous pair of appealingly saggy breasts, a set of insanely fat K-cup monstrosities with broad dark bumpy areolae and a pleasing heft to them I can't quite remove my eyes from.

This woman is my ideal, and yet the worst person imaginable. Dick or no dick, if she were simply sweet, kind, egalitarian , I'd be smitten. And yet if she were anyone else, she'd not be Irina Blackwell. Not my dominant boss.

Those emeralds swallow me, and Irina beckons with a finger. 'Come to Mummy, honey.'

Her cock twitches as I gingerly approach, a thing of delectable darkness. It's difficult, even with how much I dislike her, to not think her body a masterpiece, penis included. The size of it, the shape of it, the bronze gorgeousness of her silky skin. An impressive and undeniably appealing girl-dick .

But her balls, by contrast, are threatening. The mammoth pair of orchids are like balled fists, brutish and heavy, spilling out in their loose sack across the seat of the sofa between her womanly and muscular thighs.

Threatening because, as much as I'd have it otherwise, I'm soon going to taste their contents again. Threatening because, as much as I'd have it otherwise, their contents might potentially lay claim to the womb of my sort-of girlfriend. Threatening because, as much as I'd have it otherwise, I don't dread either of the possibilities anywhere near enough.

'Funny,' Irina says, resting a hand atop my scalp as I drop down to my knees. 'I don't know if you're doing this because you fear me, or because you want to. I'm not sure which is more flattering.'

'I'm doing this because I want to guarantee that I'll win,' I say, taking hold of her shaft. It pushes back, swells at my touch. Heat, heaviness. Her drooping foreskin, her vein-laced member, originating in that thick oil-black jungle of pubes, all suggest a primal eroticism to what should really be merely mechanical. 'Doing this your way is just…just how it has to be.'

I move quickly, acting before she can say something twisted or warped. A shrouded glans against my lips and then past them, warming my mouth, tasting the faintest bit salty and otherwise shower-fresh clean. Her cock continues to thicken, to grow further engorged within my mouth, a sensation that's darkly pleasant, rottenly interesting.

'It's okay if it's both, honey.' My boss tussles my hair, smirking smugly down at me. 'Such lengths you go to protest, and for what? To suck my dick under my desk, to–mhm–suck it in your flat's living room?'

Schlup. Slurp.

As I suckle, my cheeks grow flush. It's the heat of her body, yes, but it's something else besides. The way she begins to throb and pulsate, neediness coursing along her member, shuddering against my lips and cheeks and tastebuds while I dutifully take care of her cock.

'You're doing it so dispassionately, Theo, but the–aah–passion leaks through. I turn you on, honey. You don't call me Mummy for nothing.'

Her salty bitter precum begins to ooze forth, glazing my tastebuds. It comes consistently, in great quantity, as her arousal begins to hit its stride. Irina's cock, some more-than-a-foot-long terror, strains at my lips and dominates my mouth. Little by little as I bob my head, sucking and slurping, her foreskin rolls backwards.

And as much as I need to hate it, to hate her, I love how her bell-end feels, exposed to the ministrations of my suckling cheeks and lascivious tongue. Lustrous and spongy and ever so fucking fat.

Schlurp. Schlack.

'Are you really going to spend all day pretending you don't like this, honey?' She cocks her head, smiles viciously. Full lips, fully evil. 'Ugh. I'm seeing Mads at five, so you've got almost eight hours of this. You might as well enjoy yourself.'

Enjoy myself, she says. Enjoy sucking her cock. Enjoy sucking this venal creature.

No. Never. I won't. No matter how rich her pseudo-feminine musk is, how pleasant her penis feels in my mouth, how surprisingly tasty her salty-bitter precum. I can separate all of that from her, and she is evil. She is Irina Blackwell.

My hands go fap-fap-fap on her meaty member and my mouth goes schlup-schlap-slurp on her salacious shaft but my mind isn't in it. My heart's not in it. This is just a task, a role, a job, and it blows .

Not that Irina ultimately seems to mind, relaxing into my sofa as she is. Watching me with those hooded green eyes, gemstones surrounded by Egyptian-styled mascara with long lashes, effortlessly enticing. She says nothing for a while, content to merely observe. To let out little gasps and moans, trembling now and then.

'My morning loads are always–ughn–the largest, honey,' Irina says, eventually. 'You're in for a treat.'

I barely prepare myself for the eruption. My boss grunts, knees shaking with a singularly striking shudder, and then the floodgates open. I'd forgotten what it's like, to be on the receiving end of Irina Blackwell. To give my tastebuds front-row seats to the virile Vesuvius of her loins.

Thick ropes, dense strings. Shotgun splatters. Such alien heat and foreign texture, covering my tongue, drenching my mind in the fearsome flavours of the dominant futanari.

'You've got–mhm–permission to swallow, today.' Irina shivers, smiles with profound snark. 'Seeing as you want to–ugh–suck out as many competitors as possible…'

I can't escape her taste, so salty and tangy, so rich and slightly bitter. Her load is monstrously mucky, stupendously viscous, as if utterly packed with sperm. It tangles about, clings to everything, is bothersome to get rid of as swallowing such sticky spooge requires great effort.

Gulp, gulp, gulp goes the bobbing of my throat, working against the odds. Irina just keeps cumming, shooting rope after string after splatter, inhumanly productive. Gulp, gulp, gulp .

And it's just the first. Just the first of the day.

She remains hard as a rock, despite having been so thoroughly drained.

The taste of her semen, so rich and potent, seems to stir something in me. Causes my cock to ache as it throbs against my boxer shorts, provokes a passion I shouldn't have. What was robotic becomes, little by little, as the morning drags on, eager .

'Thought so,' Irina says, stroking my hair, as I slow my pace and give uncharacteristic appreciation to her juicy glans. 'This might be the last time you ever do this, honey. Would it be so wrong to make the most of it?'

I don't quite know what comes over me. Slowly, nervously, guiltily, I pull back from her swollen tip and stare at it, marvelling at the sight of it. So big, so darkly purple, so vigorous. Suddenly I'm smooching it, kissing its lustrous sponginess, treating it like royalty, like a lover.

Slurp. Schmack.

'Mhm.'

'You love my body, honey, so worship it. Worship that which you so clearly–aah–crave.'

I do, don't I? I hate that I do, shouldn't, but I do.

Her cock is as gorgeous as she is, a bronze length of dark deviancy, salty against my lips with all its juiciness, capable of producing endless quantities of healthy-tasting virile pride. I kiss and smooch, pressing my lips to the contours of her crown, sending out my eager tongue to brush beneath the rim of her bell-end and taste the concentrated flavours of her sublimely sensual dick.

I shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be doing this thing. As bad as it is, I like it. Bad as it is, wrong as it is, her cock feels so good against my lips. And if this is the last day…so be it. I've nothing to lose. I swallowed my pride a long time ago, and I've got to swallow hers or else risk Mads becoming some broodmare for her evil lineage.

Schlap. Schlurp.

'God, I hope I win,' she says, patting my head. 'You're a wonderful cocksucker, Theo. Better than Maddie by far.'

I shiver as she says it, half-ignoring her, slipping her glans between my lips and sucking eagerly on it. This is just mechanical, just a process. Nothing to do with her. I'm bisexual, or at least have a thing for girl-dick, and who can blame me? But it's nothing to do with Irina. I'm just making the most of it. Just…just doing my best not to hate what I'm forced into.

'You could–mhm–taste it, couldn't you? The quality of my seed.' She smiles salaciously, a succubus of dark designs. Irina cocks her head to the side, emerald eyes engulfing me. 'I just love the thought of my sperm swimming across your tastebuds, honey. All the more that you appreciate my taste. Ugh, you're so clearly meant for me.'

She rests her hand in a proprietary fashion atop my scalp, guiding me gently as I bob my head along the first few inches of her cock, working for that second climax. Working to drain her balls, that's all. Working to lower the odds, to give Mads and I an even grander chance of coming out on top.

Schlup. Schlip .

'Ughn. Good boy. Mummy's good boy.'

I know this helmet so well, it's almost chilling. My mouth recognises its shape perfectly, such that I can move my tongue on autopilot, always striking just the right spots to send her closer and closer to that creamiest of conclusions. I should dread the thought, but I don't. More and more it's clear that I hate nothing about this, only her. If she were anyone but Irina, I'd suck her off every single day and swallow every last mouthful of her dirtily delicious dick-milk.

And in time, she cums again. Fat ropes sloshing forth, the grand total of gooey jism no smaller than the last eruption. Ever so much spooge, spraying and shooting, dense and stringy, salty and tangy, ever so richly flavoured. This is semen, sperm . This is Irina Blackwell, swimming about my mouth.

God, the thought is perverse. It makes me tremble, elicits a deep discomfort in my cock and balls. I meet her gaze, as if to rebel against my inner demons, but find myself petrified by the terrible beauty of that stare.

So proud, so smug. 'It's okay if you like how I taste,' Irina says, smirking, voluptuous lips hinting at perfect white teeth. 'It's only me , Theo. Everything. My looks, my smells, my legs and my breasts. And my mind, my schemes, my victory.' She exhales, a particularly heavy burst slathering my cum-covered tongue. 'Mhm. I wish you'd chosen this back in the office, but–ugh–your eyes tell the truth. How much you appreciate what my body can produce.'

Gulp, gulp, gulp . I swallow, ignore her, sending billions of salty swimmers hurtling down into my stomach, the threat of them vanquished. How many more loads? How many more sperms? Gulp, gulp, gulp .

It just goes on. She stays hard, and I keep sucking. Another ejaculation, another series of swallowing, and I keep sucking. She stays hard. Over, and over. Like time's stuck, keeps repeating, flicking back to the beginning of things.

I find myself playing with her big balls and running my fingers through her black pubes, appreciating their silky ticklishness. And little by little, it becomes twisted. With time so vague, and no clock in sight, my lust overcoming reason, what should be mechanical and to the point – drain her fucking balls! – becomes slutty, serene.

Sucking on her testicles. Kissing her furry base, rubbing my nose into the musky coils. Taking my time, smooching her helmet and licking her cock like a big dangerous lollipop. I'm dimly aware of some fiendish part of me, growing encouraged by the filthiness of today's deeds, that whispers ruinous words.

It might not be so bad, if you lose. You'd have an out! You could suck this cock every day, without guilt! No shame, because you lost. Fair and square!

And imagine how good her loads will taste, knowing that they put a bun in Maddie's oven?

'I bloody knew it,' Irina says, convulsing, the fourth, or eighth, or twelfth fat ejaculation on the cusp of racing up that ridiculous weapon. 'Such passion, Theo. You want my–ughn–sperm so badly.' She licks her lips, grunts, as her cum-vein bulges against my hand. 'There's nothing wrong, honey. I'm deserving of this. I'm your fucking goddess. Mhm. You should be fucking honoured to taste my genes.'

Her dense glans trembles on my flattened tongue, and then erupts. 'Mhm.'

I moan around her cock, receiving something I can only consider delicious. It is , isn't it? It's strange, distinctly carnal, but creamy and salty and tangy and rich. And surely the first load, or the second, because it's ever so big. Ever so viscous and monumental in quantity.

God, I've still got a day of this. I'm wary of smiling but what a send-off. Sticky salty spooge, from a fat futanari dick and balls. Strong healthy virile seed, treating my mouth like a pussy, my tongue like a red carpet.

But this time, Irina stops me from continuing. 'Half four, honey,' she says, and I shudder. No. It can't be. 'We'd best pay Mads a visit.' She winks, and leaves me kneeling, thoughts scattered madly.

It can't be. Her loads are still so big.

'Irina?'

'Up, Theo. It's time to put a baby in that pretty blonde's belly.'

'But your loads…'

Her smile is morbid, rawest darkest. Irina pats my head as though I'm a pet, an idiot, a simpleton. 'Honey, you've done a fine job clearing out the dregs. But I'm a futanari , Theo. Mads's womb is going to belong to me, okay? But don't worry, you dirty boy. Today's just a taster of things to come. We're going to be a family, honey.'

'I…'

'A deal's a deal, Theo. Or are you going to lose everything you've worked so hard for?'

It's only late afternoon, but it feels like the depths of the coldest night of my life.

Chapter 6: Starting a Family

Summary:

Theo is powerless as Irina decides to "start a family", his sole options being to capitulate or abandon all that he's struggled to achieve. In the darkness of the futanari dominatrix's wiles, he begins to wonder. Would it be so bad to submit?

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Starting a Family

The dread is palpable, a thing I can't seem to push away.

I chose this, didn't I? I made a decision, and now I have to face the consequences. How could I be so fucking stupid as to think that Irina Blackwell, of all people, wouldn't have some grand design in mind when she gave the choice to Maddie and I?

'There's nothing to worry over, honey,' Irina says, patting my shoulder. 'In the worst-case scenario, you're just going to have to learn to enjoy my company. Would that really be so wrong?'

It might as well go in one ear and out the other, so difficult it is to process that notion. To consider this situation as anything other than an entirely hopeless failure of reasoning is to force myself to find the positives in a future whereby I, and Maddie, will inevitably succumb to Irina. Either that, or we hate our lives so badly that we throw them away. No more seventy-kay salary and likely the worst reference imaginable.

For all of Irina's beauty, she's terrible. And yet, undeniably, I know I can enjoy my time with her. It's an awful realisation, but it's an honest one. I can enjoy time with Irina because I have some perverse appreciation for her body, for the gorgeous glamour of this veritably Amazonian futanari.

God, I can't believe how much sperm is in my stomach right now. And how much I enjoyed every filthy fucking mouthful.

All of that and for what? For Irina to just waltz on over to Maddie's place and impregnate her? Please don't make me watch, please don't make me watch, please don't make me watch…

Every twist and turn on the road, the most comfortable possible journey imaginable in the chauffeured Rolls Royce, is a thing of unwelcome agony. With every passing landmark, I'm aware that we're that much closer to the end of things. Freedom, sacrificed. Victory, pushed out of view. Oh, I might end up in the lap of luxury, but I'll end up on her lap, as well.

A fuck toy for a futanari fiend.

'Please don't fret, honey.' Irina strokes my cheek, her fingers soft and delicate and yet might as well be wrapped in barbed wire. 'You tried your hardest, but we're just built differently. You've got a lovely cock, Theo, and such tasty little balls, but you have to be honest. You have to admit that you knew, before this started, where it would end.'

I tremble beneath her touch, gentle and warm though it may be. Words are beyond me for the moment, lost in the same way my gaze is, caught on the horizon and its unknowable contents. What if she's right, and I did on some perverse level want this outcome? It's difficult to ignore the possibility. Difficult to pretend that in some fashion, no matter what, I've got myself into a situation whereby I can spend time with Irina without for a moment blaming myself for enjoying her body.

Given that, going forwards, I'm going to be at its mercy.

'I didn't. I'd never want this.'

When she leans in, hot breath tickling my skin, humidity uncomfortably pleasant, a distressing lump of anxiousness solidifies like a purulent pearl in my throat. Her mouth is sweet. Her presence, in some awful sense, the farthest thing from unappealing.

'I'm going to knock her up, Theo. She's going to carry my child. Do you reckon you'll love the taste of my semen all the more, when you can connect those dots in your head?' Irina kisses my cheek, beginning with a peck and moving to something passionate, ending in a lick of my skin. I tremble throughout, stare right ahead, doing my utmost to stay what amounts to braindead, thoughtless. 'This whole thing suits me perfectly, honey. Why should I use my womb to create a legacy for myself, when I can use someone else's? And all the better if it puts you in your place.'

'Please stop talking.'

She rubs my arm. 'Oh, honey. Don't shoot the messenger.'

'How can you do this? How can you be so smug about it?'

Irina chuckles. 'Theo, honey, you can't even look at me. Why is that?'

God, she's right. About this, about so many things. It's vulgar to the extreme, but I can't look at her. Not with a straight face. Not if I want to rebel, and resist, and refuse. One look at Irina, and I'm struck by her beauty. Struck by this powerful inability to truly despise her. Because as evil as she is, as fucked-up as I clearly am, I associate her with so much pleasure. So much wonderful lustiness.

'Because I want to fuck you,' I say, letting it just slip. No looking, of course. The words do enough. 'I want to kiss you, and suck on your tits, and fuck them, and fuck you, in every hole. And be…be fucked by you, as well.'

It's not that my resistance is fading, as such. I'd be lying, to say that my words are untrue. To pretend that when I behold this bronze-fleshed Amazonian, beautiful as she is terrible, I don't have a powerful urge to do things to her. With her. But I'm exhausted. Completely exhausted today, and the filter is not where it should be.

'Look at me, honey. Please.'

'No.'

But Irina takes my jaw with the gentlest of grips, and for whatever reason, beneath her silken touch, I turn. Behold that dark beauty, so well made-up, eyes emerald explosions rimmed in Egyptian-styled mascara. And when she brings her lips against mine, I do nothing. Can do nothing. Perhaps, in some gruesome way, want to do nothing.

'Mhm.'

Smooch. Smack.

Because Irina's lips are wonderful, and her breath is sweet, and her spit is delicious. She effortlessly takes control, sticking her tongue inside my mouth, snogging me with fiery passion. Doing this awful thing and I should stop her and fight back, but I don't. I just don't.

And when Irina withdraws, a strand of glistening saliva links our lips. 'We're going to be a family, okay? I'm going to put a baby – or two! – in Mads. Everybody wins, Theo.'

She moves back into the kiss, but the chauffeur halts the car before our lips touch anew. I'm halfway going for it, all the worse. Irina winks at me, pecks my cheek, and gestures to the door. 'Come on, honey. Let's set that ball rolling.'

I don't know why I go with her. I don't know much, anymore. God, I wanted to kiss her, didn't I? Wanted more than that. Just like I didn't want the blowjobs to stop earlier. I'm captivated, in the worst of ways, by Irina Blackwell. A victim of her, yes, but now becoming some supplicant. Some obedient pet for her to command and direct.

Maddie's not my girlfriend, as such. She's a lot more than a friend, and I care dearly for her, light in this omnipresent darkness as she is, but…this is at once divine and disgusting. It should be the latter, only the latter, but it was obvious that something inside me is twisted that day Irina called while I was watching the footage.

The mental image of Irina Blackwell's powerful strong-swimming sperm claiming Maddie's eggs provokes a disturbing response in my loins. My cock aches, twitches, thickens to its full glory in a heartbeat. Irina obviously notices as we wait outside of Maddie's flat, because she reaches down and gropes me.

'You know this is right, honey. I take, Theo. I take what I want, and you? You're taken . It's just how things are. What I'm doing here? I'm doing it for us. Doing it for you.'

'How can you…how can you be so–ugh–deluded?'

I groan, because her hand knows just how to please. For someone so set on being worshipped, she can return the favour effortlessly. Her fingers grip and stroke, tugging at my captive length, urging me into the realms of pleasure while my thoughts are gridlocked by pain.

'Deluded? Me?' Irina chuckles. 'Honey, I'm setting you free. Look at this ' – she says, patting my cock – 'and look at me. You're handsome, but you're hardly some stud. Mads is going to give her womb to me now, and you're going to stay childless. Unless you think you can convince someone to join in our little mess, and somehow have them choose your seed over mine.'

You're going to stay childless. That assertion makes my head spin, causes the world to seem unreasonably evil. Irina being the least of it, given that the universe surely didn't need her to exist. A mosquito, a tick, something unwanted. Mads is going to give her womb to me, now.

I choke back a word, some protest, when Maddie opens the door. Beautiful as ever, her cheeks are flush, perhaps more so than mine. Red as sin, at odds with her pretty blue eyes. Pale perfection, bouncy blonde curls. Her lingerie leaves little hidden, pert D-cup breasts exposed by the thin veneer of semi-opaque fabric. Between her thighs is already a slickness, wet in anticipation of what's to happen. Without words, her expression says plenty.

But mostly, it apologises. Apologises for her own excitement.

'I didn't expect you to be here, Theo?'

'Oh, he's vital,' Irina says, smiling serenely. She moves, leading me by my cock. 'Let's go to your lounge, Mads. To begin, at least.'

'The lounge?' Maddie says as we go past her. She shuts the door, locks it. 'But Irina–'

As we walk into the living room of the small flat, with its TV on one side and a big sofa facing it, Irina says, 'I'd quite like a blowjob, first. I've had several today – back-to-back – but a warm-up load wouldn't go amiss.'

That purulent pearl in my throat returns, or perhaps it had never truly left. Irina sits herself down, bringing me along with her. Maddie hovers beside me, at the arm of the sofa, going so far as to put a futilely reassuring hand on my shoulder. To soothe me, as if something so wonderful would be possible.

It's too far gone. This is too far gone. The both of us are deer caught in headlights, watching as Irina Blackwell pulls up her skirt and frees her half-erect length. A big bronze beast, beautiful yet dangerous, so familiar to me now. No less vigorous than ever, as if all my efforts today were for nought.

'But Irina…'

'The way this is looking,' our boss says, 'suggests that I'm going to be receiving double blowjobs on the regular. There's no need to be shy, Mads. Just do what you've done so very many times before, and do it with that same degree of slutty aplomb that I find so enchanting.'

Irina smiles at me, sickly-sweet. A gruesome look, in all truth, because it represents something profoundly unpleasant. Her dominance, her victory, her ability to get what she wants. To take what she wants, as she suggested she does.

And Maddie, sweet as I know she can be, hesitates. Her hand stays put, locked against me, the urge to reassure momentarily – I know, in my heart of hearts, that it's only a flash in the pan of a thing – that she's with me. That she'll protect me. That she'll be kind and not cruel.

But all that does is make her absence colder when she moves. When she leaves me behind and walks around to the front, to drop onto her knees before Irina Blackwell. Before the cock that, in no time at all, is likely to plant a child inside of her uterus. To claim her body in the most profoundly perverse of fashions.

'Good girl,' Irina says, brushing a finger through those curls of gold. 'Mummy's good girl, aren't you?'

Maddie's cheeks might as well be tomatoes. 'You said you'd never–'

'It's what Theo calls me as well, baby girl. He won't judge you for it. Neither should judge the other, cum-hungry little cretins as you both are.' Irina chuckles sweetly. 'You're both safe here, with me. Where you belong. A pair of submissive dutiful sluts.'

Mads gives me a look, but for what purpose? Seeking permission? Wanting approval? Simply desiring to know the truth? Whatever my nod represents, weak and sheepish as it is, it passingly resolves her concerns. The pretty blonde delicately takes up Irina's length with her small shapely hands, the contrast in colour and vulgarity obvious.

'Look at me, Maddie,' Irina says, and those blue eyes swivel up to meet her greens. 'Good girl. You've done this countless times, and today's no different. Suck out my sperm, honey. Give your body a taste of what's soon to claim it.'

It's hard to notice any particular change on Maddie's face, because her blush is so overbearing. She keeps a straight expression, despite the redness. Her hands, if anything, tell the truth. The way they grip our boss's big cock, the way they seem to know it without her eyes following their movements, admit what Mads is so frightened of hinting at.

That while she may prefer me, as a matter of heart and soul, her body prefers Irina. The animal part chooses the superior specimen, and the futanari is better than me in all the ways that matter right now.

Fap, fap, fap, schl-fap.

Irina's loose foreskin shifts meatily beneath Maddie's ministrations, those hands working hard to pleasure her. There's a faint note of wetness to the noise, a result of the glistening precum that's already leaking out of our boss's cock. Rapidly the sensual shape grows to its full size and all I can do is watch, powerless, knowing that this has to happen. Knowing that this is in some filthy sense my fate.

I shiver as Irina reaches for my lap, more so to realise that I'm stupidly hard, my perfectly decent cock simply seeming so small in comparison to the Amazonian futanari's.

'It's natural that Mads wants me, Theo,' Irina says, effortlessly using one hand to take my erection out. 'Oh, she's sweet on you, certainly adores you, but–mhm–it's clear what she needs. What you can't provide her.'

Maddie's eyes grow wet as she continues to tug and milk, urging back the foreskin of the big bronze beast. As the dark purple crown comes into view her whole body trembles, and her pretty blue eyes become thoroughly transfixed by the overpowering urge to gaze upon the exposed helmet.

My boss smiles at me, one hand on my cock and the other atop Maddie's head in a proprietary fashion. Irina Blackwell is somehow at her most beautiful when she's at her most vulgar, those gemstone eyes sparkling and her mouth a thing of grave gorgeousness.

'Theo, what she says isn't–'

But Mads is cut off, that hand so delicately placed suddenly acting with driving determination. Midsentence Irina's cock pushes into the pretty blonde's mouth, both silencing her and provoking another low tremble through her lovely shape.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

Schlup. Schlurp.

And immediately, as if on instinct, Maddie begins to suckle. It begins with just her cheeks, pulling taut around that fat bell-end, but then she's bobbing her head and looking ever so guilty and yet ever so pleased to be tasting that thing I know to be pleasant, to be sucking on that thing I know is so unfathomably enjoyable to suck upon.

'Ugh. She's a good girl, isn't she?' Irina smirks at me, using that hand to tug on me, playfully and mockingly. 'She's of that age, honey. Ripe for breeding.' Our boss looks at Mads, who quivers, sucking away with shameful enthusiasm. 'Isn't that right, honey? Today's a special day, isn't it? The day you become–mhm–a mother.'

Schlup. Schlack. Slurp.

'Mumph. Mhm.'

Mads is really sucking Irina's cock, right in front of me. The sexual stench of dicks rises up, mine and my boss's both, hers the more potent flavour. And it should be so wrong, to the point of vomit and disgust and anger, but I can't stop staring. Can't take my eyes off of the terrible vista forced upon me.

My knees quiver, because there's the makings of an orgasm approaching, despite the wrongness of it all. Irina's touch is sublime, the scene before me awful and yet deeply alluring, the sounds and smells and sights of it at once disgusting and delicious.

She might suck my cock with more affection, but she sucks Irina's with more enthusiasm.

Schlap. Schlurp.

It's in the eagerness. The way she moves her mouth and hands with synchronicity, instincts instilling her with a sense of urgency to pleasure this erect penis, to tend to it, to make it spill its virile volume of creamy semen.

'Mhm.'

And when Mads moans, eyelids fluttering, I'm struck by the strangest kind of jealousy. That same manner as hit me before, when I was watching the recording. This perverse lust to both be Irina and to be Maddie, to suck and be sucked. My infatuation with both of these women, light and darkness at opposite ends of the spectrum, creates the strangest of interests.

'I'm doing this–ugh–for you, Theo. Teaching you a thing or two about–mhm–what's to come. What the future holds. Though I do hope that going forwards, both of you will be down there, nursing on your Mummy.'

Maddie's hands create such motion as they work, making my own pleasure wholly forgettable. Irina's big bronze balls, bloated despite having been milked of countless billions of her strong-swimming futanari sperm, swing pendulously as the cock they sit beneath is stroked eagerly by pretty young fingers. Her loins pulsate and shudder, brewing up yet another batch of baby batter, doubtless every bit as thick as the last.

Perhaps more so now, given that her body must be passingly aware that it's here to breed, to lay claim to a fertile womb. It recalls something I learned in biology once upon a time, about semen containing more sperm during actual intercourse.

It provokes a shiver, gruesome as the notion is, but not the bad kind. The kind that, filthy as I am, makes my cock ache all the more beneath her generous grip.

'Guh. Fuck.' I gasp, groan. I shouldn't be enjoying this, shouldn't be so turned on, and yet I can't stop staring. Can't stop marvelling at the sight of Maddie's enjoyment. 'Irina…'

'What, honey? What do you want Mummy to do?'

'J-ust get on with it. Get this over with. Ughn.'

She chuckles, goes so far as to lean in and kiss my cheek. 'Why would I rush something so beautiful, honey? Don't you want to compare loads? Don't you want to see the difference between–mhm–you and me?'

I don't, but I do. I am twisted, bent out of shape, vulnerable here. Exposed both in terms of heart, for wanting Maddie and hating Irina, but also in matters of lust and depravity, for finding both beautiful and enticing and on some bedrock-level of rottenness enjoying the show.

Schlup. Slurp.

The sounds of Mads, sucking away on Irina's big bad dick, are the most sordid of sonority. A dire orchestra, and yet the beauty is still there. There is gold beneath the filth. More so, to see her lips pretty and pink and slick with spit and precum. More so, to watch as her cheeks suck in around the huge helmet that is so fat and fearsome. More so, to see her head bob and know that she's tasting our boss, tasting precum, working for semen, and soon to taste sperm.

To taste the genes that might well mingle with her own, and create a new life.

'Ughn. F-uck.'

What depths I've sunk to, that this thought causes me to burst. To ejaculate all over Irina's slowly working hand, white against her duskiness, a perfectly potent load of sticky ropes and creamy strings, but something I know will be a shadow compared to what is going to end up in Maddie's mouth.

'Good boy,' Irina says, chuckling softly. 'Mummy's good, good boy. Let it all out. Mhm.'

Schl-fap. Schlurp. Schl-fap. Schlap.

All I can do is stare, trembling as my cum spurts and dribbles forth, some small volcano compared to the Vesuvius of Irina Blackwell's loins. Maddie glances at me in passing, eyes more aroused than apologetic. This whole thing is vulgar, for both of us. For all parties.

Three perverts, of different sorts.

'It'll be a little while yet, honey.' My boss kisses my cheek, keeps hold of my shivering shaft, paying no heed to the mess on her hand. 'Some of us have a little thing called stamina.'

Schlap. Schlack.

The wet noises of Maddie's efforts, her lovely lips working their tight grip to milk out a prodigious payload, are that much fouler as clarity sets into my post-climax mind. What was hot, but wrong, is now just wrong. Just evil, twisted, monstrous.

For a little while, at least. For a little while, until the ruinous parts of my psyche poke and prod and say: "Isn't this right, Theo? You can't compete, and isn't it hot? Isn't there something sexy in capitulating, in being lesser, in being humiliated?"

God, I'm gruesome. And yet I become hard again in Irina's hand, and she casually begins to stroke me anew, though her attention is now solely on Maddie. And Maddie's is solely on her, their eyes locked, some dance of minds, one submitting to the other in some primal passion, a noxious natural order.

I'm just here, some third wheel, irrelevant. Here watching, as each relishes the other.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

Schlip. Schlop.

'Dirty little size-queen,' Irina says, playing with the blonde's ringlets. 'I'm your goddess, aren't I? And this is how you worship me.'

'Mhm-hm.'

Our boss chuckles, her sickle-smile a thing of sadistic sexiness. 'Two natural cocksuckers. Lucky me.' She shivers, knees trembling faintly. Irina relaxes back into the sofa, stroking me all the same. 'I do so love an eager blowjob.'

Fap, schlick-fap. Fap, schlick-fap. The squelchy load, splattering my dick, makes the sound all the worse. Fap, schlick-fap. Fap, schlick-fap.

'Ugh. Go on, Mads. Work for Mummy's milk. That's a good girl.'

Maddie starts to increase her pace, seeming to wholly forget me. The way she sucks and slurps, the rapid tugging of those hands, and the manner in which she stares up at our boss to the exclusion of myself creates an unpleasant feeling of invisibility. I'm not really here, merely a watcher, second to the lurid love affair between the pretty blonde's mouth and the futanari's fat cock.

And the most gruesome fact of it all is that, before long, I'm going to cum again. It's already building up, already forming tensely behind my groin. I'll cum twice, from just a lazy handjob, delivered by my enchantingly evil boss, before Irina Blackwell herself does the once from this passionate and practised blowjob.

'Ughn. Shit.'

When I whine, writhe, nobody notices me. Mads is gazing lustily at Irina, and Irina is smirking down with utmost pride. And this fact, so sordid, should make the whole thing easier to hate and reject, should soften my cock and empower me to hold on, to have hope, but there's none, and I can't. God, it turns me on too much. All of this, any of it.

Schlurp. 'Mhm.' Slurp. 'Mumph.' Schlap.

'Aah. Good girl. Milk me, honey. Give your body a good taste of my strong genes.'

Those words, from that voice, only make me wince and shudder all the worse. The sounds, the eagerness, the sloppiness…what's wrong with me?

I'd think it some saving grace that Maddie's not quite going as all in as she sometimes does with me, taking the entirety of my length down her throat. As she sometimes does with Irina, in those endless videos, deepthroating like a pro.

But then it makes sense why she's keeping the helmet in her mouth, for the most part.

She wants to taste Irina Blackwell's semen before they mate. Before they breed .

'Ughn. Fuck.'

A second orgasm hits me, evil thought proving exciting. Mads can't look away, can't stop sucking, can't help herself. She wants Irina, wants to taste Irina, wants to slather her tongue in the thick virile seed of our boss, the same thick virile seed that's going to impregnate her today.

Will it even matter, to have chosen a less fertile day?

Fuck, judging by the way she's behaving, did she even do that?!

'Guh. Oh.'

And Irina keeps stroking me, keeps milking me, effortless and lazy and without paying me any notice. She must feel me shiver, must notice the extra deposit of spooge upon her fingers and the back of her hand, must hear my whines and groans, but pays me no notice.

It's all timed perfectly, of course. Right as the post-orgasmic clarity and with it, the self-disgust, hits its peak.

'Flatten your tongue, honey,' Irina says, knees quivering. 'Catch it. Swallow as little as–mhm–you can manage.'

Maddie's eyes actually glisten as she angles her mouth just so, cheeks reddening that much more, filthy hunger ripe and terrible on her cocksucking face.

'Ughn. Good girl. Aahn.'

I can practically picture it, with each and every pulse that courses through Irina's cock. Every shudder and convulsion that rocks her beautiful body. She's ejaculating, and Mads lets out these sweet little moans, expressions of eagerness and satisfaction, happily tasting the virile viscous fruits of her labour.

'Mhm. Mhm-hm.'

The dominant futanari plays with the pretty blonde's hair as she loads her mouth, producing billions of strong-swimming sperm from those big beautiful balls, shooting them straight across Maddie's tastebuds. Thick ropes and juicy strings, claiming a mouth, asserting control, taking what is – I struggle now to deny – rightfully Irina's.

'Ugh. That's it, Mads. Good girl. Mhm. Keep sucking. Let me feed you.' Irina groans, muscles straining and relaxing, doubtless releasing a truly tremendous quantity of thick futanari jism. 'It's important to g-et your body acquainted with my genes, honey. We're going to have a beautiful family.' Our baleful boss, at this moment, winks at me. 'All three of us.'

Mads doesn't even look guilty, following Irina's gaze for that moment. Pleading, almost. "How can you blame me? It's so good! She's so hung and her seed is such high quality!"

And I'm struck by that awful thought again. That perverse knowledge that I share with Maddie, that awareness of how difficult it is to deny some salacious sense to it all.

Imagine how good her loads will taste, knowing that they put a bun in Maddie's oven?

What if this is right, after all? What if this is just how it has to be? It's not like I'm going to be excluded, after all. Not how Irina phrases it, not her talk of us being a family. Not her constant admittances of wanting me the most, doing this for me, so much orbiting me.

Maddie's throat pulls me away from the lurid possibility, bobbing slightly as our boss's sperm – too much, of course, for that sweet small mouth – descend past her tonsils, swim into her belly. But maybe that's right, too. I can't compete with Irina. The way Mads moves her mouth, chewing and savouring that sordid salty sticky richness, tangy and distinctly carnal in content, aligns perfectly with my understanding.

It's really, really good stuff, what that beautiful Amazonian body produces.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

Schlup. Slurp.

Irina groans. 'It's clear how badly she wants me, Theo. Are you really going to–ughn–deny Mads the honour of bearing my children?'

'But…the d-eal…'

'Wouldn't it sting less to just give in, honey?' She turns to me, smiling sinfully. All pride, alluring arrogance. 'I'll take her reproductive organs, you take her arse. We'll share her mouth. And all of your holes, of course, will belong to me.'

Maddie, in the background of this, keeps sucking and savouring. Clearly chewing, swirling the thick spooge around in her mouth, relishing the powerful flavour of our boss's sperm, wriggling about across her tastebuds. Our words mean little, cum-crazed as she is, lavishing in the lurid luxury of Irina Blackwell's loins.

'No. The deal stands. I'm not going to give up.' I shake my head, empowered by something feeble yet fighty, a shard of my former sense of self. 'Today's the last day you have sex with Maddie.'

Irina pulls a face, some sarcastic sadness. 'Oh, honey.' She gives my cock a squeeze, and sets those evil emeralds upon Maddie. 'Mads, honey, what's so special about today?'

It's like someone's run ice cubes against the vertebrae of my spine. The look there, the way the pretty blonde is torn straight out of her sperm-fetish and back into the room, is one of the most egregious guilt. Maddie's movements fall to a standstill. Her throat bobs faintly, but Irina pats her head.

'Don't rush, honey. Mummy will explain.' Our boss turns to me, finally releasing my cock. Her cum-creamed hand glistens, and she smiles at it, idly turning her fingers this way and that. 'Mads is a good little girl, Theo. And she couldn't help but tell the truth. About your little plan to work by her cycle, to put me in a position that even my virile swimmers might struggle to get me out of.'

As she speaks, she plays with Maddie's hair and the pretty blonde trembles, faintly churning and chewing, continuing to savour Irina's seed.

'We decided on a better day, honey. Her most fertile day. The day that the three of us – with a fourth, and perhaps even a fifth – become a real family.' Irina lifts her spooge-soaked hand up to me, and it's fucking rotten that I know what's expected. 'A million a year and my big house you can have, but it doesn't have to exclude me, does it? I'll shower the both of my sweet sluts with all the money in the world, everything you could ever want, so long as you accept how this has to go.'

Irina slides her hand down Maddie's cheek, stroking away, and cups her jaw. With a slight upwards tilting of her skull, an unspoken command, the pretty blonde draws back from the futanari's cock and shows me what's going on inside that suck-slut of a mouth.

A mess of white, ropes and strings, connecting everything. A tongue that is practically smothered in the thick baby-making cream, which can hardly sit still. A quantity of jism that I can't produce with ten loads, let alone two. The hand before me, and my own sodden crotch, ensure that I can't pretend otherwise.

'Do you see, Theo? Do you understand?' She twists her hand this way and that, gooiness glistening. 'In a few moments, I'm going to be in the bedroom with Mads, and I'm very excited to put a bun in that oven. You can either sit out here – but not before licking that muck off of my hand, you naughty boy – and adhere to the deal as it stands, or you can come in with me, and we can enjoy her body together. As a family.'

'Meaning what…Mummy?'

Irina licks her lips. 'Meaning you take her nice little bubble butt, and I'll sow my seed. And Mads' – she takes her hand away, hovering it halfway between myself and the kneeling beauty – 'can handle the mess you made. But I will be trying every day, if you choose the latter option. Think quickly, Theo. Mummy is quite eager to become a daddy .'

Two paths, and neither is great. Each is a thing of darkness, though one…one is kinder?

I want Maddie for myself, but clearly that's not happening. For all of her affection for me, her lust is a thing untameable. Her reasoning is so sordid, yet difficult to fault. We get the money, we get the house, and we get to belong to Irina as well. We get mind-blowing sex with each other, and with her. But we lose out on being free, me more so than her, though it's hardly like in an ideal world she'd choose to have Irina's babies.

Or I sit out here and listen, likely see a video at some point, and pretend that somehow there's a way out of this that doesn't involve me – again – swallowing my pride and Irina's. The added insult of licking my cooling cum off of her hand, as if to proclaim that it's unfit for consumption, even by the seed-slurping slut that is Maddie. And of course, I still have to adhere to the deal, or else lose my job.

God, would it be so bad for her to win?

My legs are shaky as I stand. Irina smirks all throughout, almost predatory as I roughly thrust my semi-erect cock, groin all slathered with spooge, in Maddie's direction. 'Clean me up,' I say, voice surprisingly clear. 'You win, Mummy. I'd rather be part of this than excluded. I'll take Mads's arse.'

And as Maddie hungrily begins washing me with her tongue and mouth, uncaring for the degradation of the deed, her eyes alight with erotic excitement, Irina grins at me. Ear to fucking ear. Beautiful and terrible.

'Good boy, Theo. I knew you'd come around.'

It's unreal, to watch them get into position. Unreal but, unlike the blowjob, not so inhospitable. Not so exclusionary.

As Irina lays on her back, on that bed I've shared countless times with Maddie alone, she smiles at me, huge heavy cock pointing towards the ceiling, big bloated balls dangling about between her thick thighs. And Mads follows her eyes, smiling as well, though the look is a mess of concerns where our boss wields nothing short of stiletto-sharp certainty.

'Come, Theo,' Maddie says, reaching for me. 'Let's…let's enjoy this.'

There's a low grunt, shared between the pair, as Irina thrusts up inside of Mads. I'm all tingly, all trembling, to view that perfect pink pussy stuffed with such a dark dangerous dick. Tight lips spread wide for the entrance of that fat helmet, the whole thing sliding in so easily because the pretty blonde is soaking wet.

The bed begins to shift, springs quaking, as Irina takes hold of Maddie's hips and begins to pump her prodigious prick up into that fertile place between her lovely pale thighs. And I can still turn back, still reject this, still reclaim some pride but I just don't know if I have it in me. Just don't know if I want to.

There's lube in one of the drawers, though we've never done anal. Preparedness, I suppose, or maybe Irina's doing, but I never gave it a second thought before. I lift it out and marvel at that sight, beautiful bodies quaking together, Maddie's pert bubble-butt bouncy and jiggling as Irina's immense balls swing up and down against it, up and down against where my own cock and balls will soon be if I go down this path.

Thwap. Thwup. Thwap.

And I crack the bottle, because why not? Isn't this better, after all? To not be excluded, to not lose my job, to not fade from view. It doesn't make it right, doesn't make me proud, but it's not like I'm losing completely.

Just losing to Irina Blackwell. Just submitting, in a sense, to her will.

And to her big bronze cock, and her clear and unmistakeable potency.

'Aah. M-ummy,' Mads says, squealing as she's taken. As that powerful prick drives closer and closer to the ultimate prize of conception. A certainty, perhaps, given Maddie's trick. 'S-o big, Mummy. You're so f-ucking big!'

Should I be angrier? Am I angry at all? Just exhausted?

Maddie's jiggling butt is hardly a grim fate. So what if I never get to use her pussy again? So what if it belongs to our boss? All those men out there who crave their girlfriend's arses seem to think there's something special about the whole idea, so why can't I be one of them?

Well, I suppose they're not excluded from the other hole.

'Good girl,' Irina says. 'Mummy's good, good girl.' Her lovely hands, coiled around Maddie's hips, are fiendish in the circumstances. Sharp purple-painted nails and perfect skin, things that should be beautiful and yet present a devilish vibe. Irina Blackwell in a nutshell. 'Mummy's good and–ugh– fertile girl.'

God, just the word makes my cock twitch. Be it today or be it another, I know I'm going to see an impregnation. It won't be me with Maddie, this girl I ended up in this strange scenario with, and somehow that's upsetting and enticing all in one.

Some perverse humiliated loser in me who finds the idea of being, in some crucial sense cuckolded , somehow weirdly erotic.

'Mhm. Y-es, Mummy! Y-es!'

I almost fall over stepping onto the bed. Lose my balance because of the tremors of such forceful fucking. Schlick-thwap-schlick-thwap-schlick. For a long moment I'm simply mesmerised, struck dumb by the sight of such powerful penetration, the hugely hung futanari ploughing into the pretty blonde with ravishing ruthlessness.

And Mads takes it so well, for her petiteness, for the sheer size of Irina. Practised, I suppose, but…it's such a strangely exciting scene.

Schlick-thwap-schlick-thwap-schlick.

I almost forget what I'm doing until the lube begins to leak, at which point I straighten my head up and accept the lesser of two evils. Humiliation in this manner is better than complete neglect, right? A complete loss of all that I've struggled through to obtain.

To be raped by Irina, to be bound to her, to accept that carnal contract in return for a good job and a future. I can't.

I just can't throw it away.

'Ooh.' What a weird relief, that Mads turns and smiles at me, all red and bright and bubbly, bouncing away atop that fat futa fuck-stick, right at the moment I begin pouring the cool lube into her pretty plump crack. 'Go o-n, Theo. It's for y-ou.'

'Ugh. Do it, honey,' Irina says, slamming away. Schlick-thwap. 'Let's start a family.'

I shut my eyes and take the leap. Let go just that much and the evil flows in, the corruption and corrosion of my soul. Because God, I don't hate this. I want to so badly, want to despise it, every inch, but I just don't .

I just can't.

'Guh. Fuck, Mads.'

And she's so fucking tight, when I push into her pretty pink arsehole. The bouncing blonde squeezes her fat cheeks down around my shaft as I slide into her, as I take hold of her hips above Irina for stability. And our boss puts her hands atop mine, slides my grip down a bit, and this fantastically filthy union begins in earnest.

'Good boy,' Irina says, squeezing my hands. Silken soft, devilishly dominant. 'Mummy's good boy and Mummy's good girl. Ugh. Everyone in their rightful place.'

I'm struck by paired and perverse pleasures. Maddie's arse is sublimely sucking, her sphincter squeezing around my shaft with intense abandon. Her innards are lustrous, extremely warm, slick with lube and so very pleasant. Made interestingly illicit and intense by the fact that, of course, I'm not alone.

'Oh, fuck.'

As Irina thrusts, I almost fall forwards, putting too much weight onto Maddie. That big brutal cock rises and falls, rises and falls. The membranes are thin inside of the pretty blonde, the degree of separation so minor that she's not just fucking Mads but, in some sense, grinding against my dick as well.

Schlick-thwap. Schlick-thwap. Schlick-thwap.

Not starting, of course, on the way that our boss's big bronze balls keep swinging up and against my own, slapping away, splattered with squirt and likely residual slobber from when Mads was giving Irina one hell of a blowjob.

'God I'm so f-ull,' the pretty blonde says, almost squealing. She turns to me and slings an arm behind her head, our momentary proximity giving her a good purchase on the back of my neck. 'Theo…'

I can't relax and yet I want to so badly. Why can't I just surrender to the salacious sweetness of it, welcome the wrongness? Her lips are so pretty, even if her mouth stinks of the richly musky spooge and dick juices of our futanari boss. Those blue eyes are so bright, so affectionate, wet with lust as well.

Somehow it just…happens.

'Good boy. Good girl. So good. Mhm. Mummy's so proud.'

I manage to slip a hand away from Irina and go up to cup Maddie's tits, to lean into her face and the eager kiss. Smooch. Smack. Tasting her spit, but mostly Irina. Mostly futanari cream and precum and I don't care, I fucking love it. Smooch. Smack.

'Mhm. Mhm-hm.'

Our moans mingle as our bodies press together, a hot trinity of the most unfathomable perversion. I thrust and thrust and thrust but Irina is faster and fiercer, her cock milking mine with every passing moment, prompting Mads to squirt and shiver.

Schlick-thwap. Schlick-thwap. Schlick-thwap.

And her balls, so big and bouncy, just won't stop pummelling mine. It's actually good, actually incredible. To feel that fat dick inside of Mads and to be sucked on by her beautiful bum, to play with her handful D-cup tits and snog her passionately while our boss does her thing, working to make this final and forever.

Working to put a baby inside of Maddie's young and fertile womb.

'Mhm. Mhaah.'

Irina chuckles. 'Is this so–ooh–wrong, Theo? Is it so wrong for things to go my way?'

I pause my part of the kissing, and Maddie, struck by the severity of her continued back-to-back orgasms, pulls away completely to grit her teeth and while, producing meaningless moans and cries.

It really is about me, isn't it? Even as Irina fucks, even as she masterfully massages the pretty blonde's perfect pussy, her emerald eyes envelope me in a fashion that suggests no end of hunger. No end of desire.

'Why am I so–ugh–special?'

She strokes my captive hand, plays with my fingers. 'You're my ideal man, honey. You're young and handsome and submissive.' She grins beautifully, ear to ear, a succubus queen in the flesh. 'I'm about to–aah–knock up your girlfriend, and you're happy. I see it in your face. You love this, honey. You want this.'

'I…'

'Mhm. Theo. Mummy.'

I have to bite down on my lip, add some flash of pain, or else Maddie's intensity is going to end things. As slow as my thrusts are, as much as I'm trying my utmost to hold on, the combined pleasure of it all is too much. A parade of perfect penis-pleasing. Better than anything else, this peculiar mixture of vice-like backside and monstrous member mere inches away through the heat and the lustrousness.

'Tell me, honey,' Irina says. 'Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me to put my sperm inside her womb. Tell me you–ughn–want Mads to bear my children.'

'I...I don't…'

'Aah. Fuck. Theo, y-ou must. You sh-ould!'

Sweat and sweetness, heat and humidity. My head racing, the world turned upside down. Can I possibly entertain such an outcome, and actively desire it? Can I want this wicked woman's victory, even if it means my ultimate defeat? How can I be so pathetic as to desire such an inescapable end?

But–

'Together,' Maddie says, tightly grabbing my neck again. 'Us. All of us. Family. Mhm.'

Schlick-thwap. Schlick-thwap. Schlick-thwap.

A big house and lots of sex. No kids for myself, but plenty for Maddie and Irina, I'm sure. The admittance, however vile, of the futanari's first-rate superiority, her seminal quality, her ascendence and my descent. The never-ending taste of Irina Blackwell's virile ejaculate on my tongue, the sensation of her up inside my bum, the humiliating heat of her quick tongue and sharp words. Calling her Mummy, all the time. Succumbing, and losing myself, and being tantamount to her property. Having passing access to Maddie, but mostly being made accessible to Irina herself.

And Maddie's belly, growing fatter and fatter with this futanari's child or children, knowing that I'll never have that privilege. That I'm fated to be childless, to have the right only to take Mads by her beautiful bubble-butt and never that pretty pink pussy.

'Please get Mads–ugh–pregnant, Mummy.'

The words just come out. Irina, for the first time in my knowing her, actually looks surprised. As if she expected resistance, some fight, some last madcap effort to refuse. But no. No more running. If I am perverse and corrupt and corroded as a soul, it's because of Irina Blackwell.

So fuck it all.

'Honey, you mean it?'

I nod, and kiss at Maddie's neck. 'Please, Mummy. Do it. I mean it. Breed Mads. Her womb belongs to you.'

Mads turns halfway to me, nuzzles my forehead, kisses me. And then she turns back to Irina, grinning madly. 'Do it, Mummy. Breed me. Breed your good girl. Mhm. Put a baby in me!'

'Yes,' Irina says, eyes wide, lust volcanic. 'Yes, yes, yes!'

I climax instantly, the moment she hilts herself for the final time. Irina pulls Mads down upon her and in the process drags me along such that our genitals are all merged into some hot sloppy splattered mess. It feels honestly like the biggest load I've ever shot, but it's nothing in the grand scheme of things.

'Mhm. Yes!' Maddie squeals. 'God, it's so fucking hot. Aah!'

My nuts succumb to Irina's, superiority made clear. Those big bronze balls cuddle mine as they pulse and pump, releasing a certain conception in creamy sperm form. That big cock, inside of Maddie's pussy, throbs and swells against mine, each of us captive within the pretty blonde's tight body.

Rising and falling, Irina's titanic testicles release spurt after spray of thick virile baby milk, resolving things once and for all. The pieces fall into their places, and I've said more than enough. All I can do now is just hold onto Maddie tightly, warm and snug, aware that it's finished. Aware, in some fashion, that I've just witnessed an impregnation.

Aware that Mads is very much in the process of being bred. In some filthy sense, it's beautiful.

My future, for the first time, is certain. And as wrong as it is, it's weirdly liberating. Pulse. Throb. Squirt. Splatter. My boss's – my Mummy's – big beautiful dick erupting, ejaculating, sending forth sloshing wave after sloshing wave of rich healthy semen into the birth canal of the pretty blonde. Doubtless, given the grand trick, into her ovulating womb.

'Mhm. Y-es. Fuck.'

I can't make Maddie feel this way, not in a sexual fashion. Her shivering, shuddering, swaying dance atop Irina's massive member is simply not in my capacity to give. Isn't it fairer, this way? She gets the best of both worlds. My affection, and Irina's cock. My love, and Irina's lust. Mummy's lust. Mummy's cock.

I'm done long before Mummy, of course. I get to bask in the potentiating after-shock of her continued sensual spasming, her productive prick so thoroughly loading the pretty blonde's perfect pussy that the thick white muck actually begins to slosh out, dripping merrily and messily around the base of Irina's cock, slathering her big brown balls in pride.

'Come,' Mummy says softly, urging Maddie forwards. 'Relax. We'll rest up and go again. And again. And again.'

The two of them fall upon each other, Mads snuggling into the cushioning cleft of Irina's 44K chest. And for a moment I'm excluded again, left out, my cock softening and some post-climax clarity dawning. Sadness, wrongness, and then…

'Theo, honey,' Irina says, gesturing. I spot her finger, follow it to the mess. Mads and her tight beautiful baby-hole, creamy and white, leaking such dense dick milk. Mummy's fat futanari balls, and the hairy base of her prick, slathered in the stuff. 'Let me know if it tastes better, now that I've won.'

I can't believe it, but I do it. I drop down, accept my fate.

Only…only I miss Mads entirely. Tempting as it is to eat that creampie out of her cunt, I go straight to Mummy's balls. Straight to the thick semen that drools across them, ropey and stringy.

With my hands sinking into Mummy's thick thighs for support, I scoop my first taste of the future onto my tastebuds. Her semen is…it's…is just…

'Mhm. Mhm.'

I swallow, and shiver.

'It's delicious, Mummy. Your superior sperm is delicious. It tastes better than ever.'

And Irina rests a hand atop my head and pushes me down, firm yet gentle.

'Good boy. Ugh. There's plenty more where that came from.'

Chapter 7: The Hand That Feeds

Summary:

Theo deals with the immediate aftermath of Irina breeding Maddie, and his dubious acceptance of their "family". And so begins, with an act of body worship, his real descent into submission...

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: The Hand That Feeds

They sleep peacefully, but I can't. I envy them the simplicity of it.

Will it just take the one attempt? I suppose it doesn't matter. Irina and Maddie are somewhat a thing, now. Irina, Maddie, and I are a thing. A kind of twisted, weird, gruesome scenario whereby I'm what? Irina's sexual plaything?

At least I'm not left out. At least Maddie is on one side, and I'm on the other, and our dangerously attractive dominatrix boss has her arms around each of our shoulders, sleeping on her back with a look of utmost victory etched into those beautiful features even in the dead of night.

She smells good. Feels good. Looks good. Isn't good at all, is fucking evil, but I am struggling now. I'm struggling to reject this situation in its entirety. A decision made to preserve my job, to ensure my career's continued trajectory, holds in the shadows of its reasoning notions that I really, really don't like.

Because fucking hell, Irina Blackwell's body is exquisite. One of her breasts is partially resting against my chest, their fullness and heft simply indescribable. For all of Maddie's deeply attractive curves, she's practically flat in comparison to Irina. Held as I am like a trophy, a prize for her efforts, I'm engulfed by the sheer voluptuous of her hips and thighs and bosoms.

And periodically my eyes dip to that mammoth member between her thighs, a hulking length of cock sat atop the biggest balls imaginable. Such Amazonian qualities, all in one woman. Abundant appeal, with both her feminine and masculine qualities. Because as much as I've dreaded such appreciation, it's impossible to pretend I don't find Irina's cock attractive.

Her semen really did taste better, knowing that it was going to put a baby inside of Mads.

'All this tossing and turning,' Irina says, catching me by surprise. She strokes my arm softly and yawns. 'What's the matter, Theo?'

'Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.'

'It's all right, honey.' She lifts her hand to my head and begins idly playing with my hair. 'I'm a light sleeper at the best of times, and the excitement doesn't help matters.'

'How can you be so casual about this?'

'Casual about what? We're a family. This is a special type of connection we share.'

The heat of the moment and the cool of the night are drastically different things. I've gotten myself into this situation through some combination of lust and greed, and God I wish I could just excise those parts of myself that resist even now. Those parts of me that, when the fire of desire is cold and ashen, seem to swallow up the skies of my inner world, plunging all into darkness.

'You raped me, Irina,' I say. I say, while not making any effort to free myself from her warmth and softness and pleasant fragrance. 'All you care about is yourself.'

'By all means leave out your eager role in that first night, honey.'

'I never consented to having a cock put inside me!'

Irina sighs, and in the dark I find a smirk on her full-lipped mouth. 'Because you hadn't learned your place. Because you didn't realise how lucky you'd be to be mounted by someone of my quality.' She continues to play with my hair, treating me like some pet. 'I simply want you to agree, Theo, that my way is the best way. And honestly, I thought earlier today that you'd finally come around, but still you resist. That part of you that craves me is still, wrongfully, denied its place at the table.'

Maddie is thankfully a deep sleeper. Not that I speak hugely loudly, and Irina talks even less so, but the pretty blonde simple breathes softly, nestled as she is against the bronze beauty of our "Mummy." At ease, where I can't be.

'This got so out of control. I should've left when Maddie mocked me. Saved myself the hassle of your continued efforts to crush my spirit.'

'Yes, well, I saw no alternative. I want you, and I will have you. You resisted my offering of honey, so you instead get vinegar,' Irina says. 'You think I'd intended from the beginning to put a baby inside of Maddie? Jesus Christ, Theo. I was only doing it to get into you. All of this, for you, and still you resist.'

'Don't you dare play victim.'

She chuckles softly. 'The farthest thing, honey. What I've done to you hasn't been good, but what would you have done in my stead?'

'I'd have given up,' I say. 'I'd have accepted that this is a dead end.'

Irina tilts her head my way, brings her lips to rest atop my scalp. Still she strokes, this weird form of affection. Distinctly unsettling, paired with her words. Her unwillingness to let me go, or to consider even the passing possibility of not winning.

'But it's clearly not a dead end,' Irina says. 'What I want is for the best, honey.'

'Bullshit. It's best for you .'

Irina kisses my hair, inhales my scent. Almost romantic, if it weren't her. 'Does anything come close to being fucked me, Theo? In a vacuum, in the absence of competing factors, would you rather be inside of Mads, or have me inside of you?'

Inside of Mads. Inside of Mads. Inside of Mads.

So why do I say nothing? Why don't I say that?

Why is there an uncomfortable silence between us, while I stare up at the ceiling, dimly aware of her touch and her lips, the sweetness of her breath, the plump perfection of her voluptuous body. Why can't I just state the obvious?

Oh, but I know , don't I? It'd be a lie. As tight as Mads is, as lovely as she is, as sexy as she is, we like what we like. And given the choice, given just the sensations without any emotional or historical connections, I'd pick my boss's huge futanari cock each and every fucking time.

'It's okay,' Irina says, as I sniffle. As the tears come, my sobbing muted for Maddie's sake. 'Oh, honey, it's okay .'

When she pulls me against her, I go with it. Find myself resting atop one of the enormous K-cup breasts of Irina Blackwell, crying softly because of what she's done to me. Because of all that I've gone through, to end up here, to have no idea what I'm doing. No idea how to make sense of this situation that doesn't involve me losing out on something.

It's not just greed, is it? I could do without the seventy-kay, but I doubt a single day would go by where I wouldn't find myself, even in passing, thinking about Irina. Thinking about that which shouldn't have happened, yet did.

'I can't have a life now,' I say, at once delighted and disgusted by the cushioning breast meat. 'I can't have kids, I can't have a girlfriend, can't have any of it.' I stare out in the darkness across the other bronze hillock, finding Mads there sleeping innocently, wholly unaware. 'I either leave, and lose what I suffered to obtain, or I stay, and have nothing.'

Irina says nothing for a moment, running her hand down my neck. She eases somehow one style of goosebumps, while creating more of her own. Delicate fingers with noticeable nails, silken skin a form of weaponised affection. An unspoken threat, that I am at her mercy.

'Do you remember the first night, Theo? Before I raped you?'

It's somehow difficult to piece together, but I suppose in the wake of that gigantic cock, little else seems comparable. Breasts, kissing, cumming?

'Barely.'

Irina easily shifts me again. She releases the deeply slumbering Mads and takes hold of me with both hands, her height and strength allowing her to pull me atop her body, to rest my chin between the dark valley of her breasts. To look upon me, her beauty demonic in the night, a succubus temptress, a thing capable of establishing all manner of dubious bargains.

'I kissed you, Theo. I let you suckle on my tits, I put your cock between them. I tasted your semen, and it was delicious,' she says, locking her arms across the backs of my shoulders. Squeezed as I am between her massive mammaries, in their sweet fragrance, all is far more complicated than it should be. 'I didn't do that as a show, honey. It wasn't a trap, though it was obviously necessary. So far I've broken you down, that I can build you up again. I prefer men, Theo. Male bodies. I've no aversion to your penis, but I do have an active interest in sculpting you to suit my needs. I said you were perfect, and it's true, but that perfection is useless if you're still resisting.'

For the first time in perhaps ever – and it would naturally have to occur in the lowest hours of the night – Irina doesn't seem…insurmountable? Like somewhere, beneath all of that arrogant evil, there might be some shrivelled scrap of soul, some yet-beating human element.

And even that, it seems, rates herself more highly than me.

'When I'm convinced that you're broken, Theo, I'll happily put my womanly charms to use with you. When I can finally rebuild you, properly, as just what I'm looking for, then there's no risk of sucking you off or letting you fuck my tits.' She strokes my shoulders, squeezes tight. 'But right now, you're still in this limbo state of searching for an escape. I've told you what that looks like, I've told you – and you appreciate – that you'll lose all of this. How can I take care of your needs, honey, when you're still dead set on avoiding mine?'

Faint light from outside, city light, streetlight, hits her emerald eyes just enough to reveal them, and with them, the outline of her perfect face. Irina isn't smirking, for a change. The way she considers me, such thoughtfulness, pairs with her sordid embrace to perpetuate this feeling of deep unease.

Unease because, try as I might, there's such temptation in her designs. The woman I wanted from the start, at least physically, might be a possibility if only I can abandon any hope of an alternative. If only I can acknowledge her, once and forever, as my superior.

If only I can genuinely smile at the fact that she's going to impregnate Maddie, and practically thank her for having raped me.

But I can't. Not yet. Not tonight.

And as much as I wish I could think, "Not ever!", I'm not so sure. After all, isn't Mads in that state I envy already? Isn't she blissful, contented, despite the darkness?

If I could just achieve the same…

When daylight finally arrives, I wake up with my head nestled in the mountainous mammaries of the statuesque futanari. Mads giggles, and something like panic overcomes me. To be seen like this, to be comfortable , is abhorrent. Wrong.

'Sorry honey,' Irina says, smiling smugly. 'I'd have woken you, but you just looked too cute to disturb.' She does this thing with her arms, lifting them and in the process pushing together her gigantic tits, smothering my face. Provoking a guilty erection. 'I'd love for you two darlings to take out my morning load, but we really must be getting into the office.'

'My shower can fit three,' Maddie says, sitting upright. 'If we're in a rush?'

It's bothersome, how happy she seems to be with it all. The pretty blonde rolls off the bed and stands up, especially pleasant to behold in the morning light. Passingly I imagine what she'll look like in several months, plump in a display of her obvious fertility, and Irina's obvious virility, but rather than disgust me the notion is vaguely arousing.

All of this is arousing, sadly.

'You go ahead, honey,' Irina says. 'I'll shower with Theo afterwards.'

I'd protest, but to what end? Mads moves off with a skip in her step, thoroughly fucked the night before, relaxed for it. She heard what I said, heard all of it. The Theo of yesterday, all awash with lust and carnal hunger, isn't exactly a different person, but he definitely was more accepting of this troublesome situation.

The moment Maddie is out of sight, Irina pushes me onto my back. 'How is this going to play out, honey?' she says, sitting herself upright against the headboard. Tall and voluptuous, her heavy breasts sag pleasingly, combining with her curvaceous hips and legs to create that ever-distressing desire in me. 'Are you going to be nice, or are we going to have problems?'

If I survived witnessing the potential impregnation of Maddie, then surely I can survive anything, right? I lose so much in rebelling, and gain so much in staying.

'I'm not going to fight anymore,' I say. 'You win, Mummy.'

'So we'll be a family, then? You, me, and Mads?'

I nod, and blush. Her cock is growing hard, somehow responding to what on the surface is a distinctly non-sexual conversation. But the truth is, for Irina Blackwell, this "family" is anything but.

Maddie is out of the shower a moment later, taking the urgency seriously where our boss is doing no such thing. 'Theo knows how to operate it,' she says, wrapping the towel tight against her curvy shape. 'It's a bit shit, so if anything isn't working, then–'

'We'll be fine,' Irina says, eyes not leaving me. 'Come, honey.' She tugs on my wrist. 'Let's get nice and clean.'

The pretty blonde blushes, finding something awkward and alluring in the fact that she's been cast aside. With how Irina grips me, guiding me along behind her towards the bathroom, I get the distinct impression that there's no rush at all, and that in reality my boss is simply looking for opportunities to make the most of this apparent streak of success.

And the moment the lock clicks into place, Irina's passions show themselves.

'I finally have you,' she says, embracing me from behind, her breasts squishing against my shoulders. Her smile, in the mirror, is a thing of wickedness and awful affection. 'After all this time you're mine, honey.'

I'm struck dumb by the strange proclamation. There's this worrying element, this side of things that has me deeply concerned. Because the way Irina smiles, the way she studies my body, fondles me with ever-groping hands, suggests something troublesome.

It'd somehow be better if I didn't believe she actually had positive feelings for me. It'd be better if her ultimate goal here was simply to humiliate me, to break my mind, but under the sway of her affections I'm struggling to believe that that's the full picture. That maybe Irina has this tremendously warped view of loving me, and of how to make me love her.

'Mummy, don't we need to go to work?'

Her eyes glisten, and her cock pushes up against my cheeks, growing in firmness. 'We'll go when you're done washing me, honey. None of us need to be in early, after all. I do make the rules.'

Washing her. Okay. If I have to, sure. But when I try to move, she holds me firm. 'The shower, Mummy?'

Irina shakes her head. 'Oh, I don't need one today. Just a bit of a whore wash, that's all.' She lifts her arms up and locks them behind her head, revealing pretty pits with faint dark stubble. 'And you're the whore. Why don't you start with my armpits, Theo?'

A lump of nerves coagulates behind my tonsils, because I'm starting to think that this isn't going to involve any flannels or water. 'Um, Mummy?'

'Yes, honey?'

'How am I meant to wash you?'

The dominant futanari grins, and licks her full and gorgeous lips. 'With your mouth, honey. You're going to wash Mummy's body with your mouth .'

I suck in a breath, in low terror. The grim truth of things is that, in a sense, matters between us have been easier up until now because I don't really interact much with Irina's body. There's only the rare kiss, and I keep my hands to myself. But I am badly, madly, attracted to her. If this is going to be normal, going forwards…I might actually break.

All this, to keep my job and maintain my part in things. Greed and lust, my twin demons.

And Irina the third, the one who warps me like no other in all the world.

'Okay, Mummy,' I say, trembling. Already my cock is hardening, the merest of sexual thoughts provoking a response. Licking armpits shouldn't do anything for me, but this is Irina Blackwell, after all. The one person who manages to pull lust out of apathy or even disgust. 'I'll clean you. But I'd rather have Maddie helping me out.'

'Next time,' Irina says. 'Today I want my special boy to do this, not my good girl. She had plenty of my love yesterday, after all. You've been a little starved, haven't you?'

'I…I have.' I turn towards her as I say it, beholding her voluptuousness. Insane hips and monumental tits, a figure of profound proportions. For all her cushioning heft, the towering futanari is decently athletic, hints of toned musculature showing here and there, particularly as she flexes her arms and legs. 'I've been, um, starved, Mummy.'

She angles her right armpit towards me. 'Then this can be our special moment of the day, honey. The right kind of start, between a good boy and his Mummy.'

God, I want to go about this without touching her, but it's impossible. There's no way to avoid making this thing intimate, when I want nothing of the sort. It's so much easier to just be railed, to just suck dick, to just be some outlet for her lusts. But to touch her body? To find myself appreciating her smells, and her tastes, and her soft skin, and yielding curves?

No. No, I don't see a way out of this that won't start warping me utterly, so that sooner or later she'll have me eating out of her hand.

And so comes the invasive, evil, but remarkably logical thought: maybe that'll make things easier?

'I'm waiting, honey,' Irina says, twisting her torso left and right. Faint muscles flex beneath the fatty curves, Amazonian and alluring. What's the hold-up?'

Fuck it. Fuck it all. Get it over with.

God, she's so plush. Where Mads has lovely hips, regions of squishy softness, Irina's wide womanliness is immensely cushioning. My fingers readily sink into the arches of her hips, into the faint folds where her belly meets her sides. It's a necessary evil. A…bothersome evil. I see no way to engage in her weird acts of intimacy without touching her, without being, well, intimate .

'Sorry, Mummy,' I say quickly, leaning into her heat and pleasing fragrance. 'I was just nervous…I've not touched you much.'

Irina chuckles softly. Her emerald eyes, enchanting sorcerous stones in a perfect face, follow my movements as I dip my head in towards her left armpit. Her breasts are too large to avoid, and Jesus Christ they're soft and pillowy, pressing against my upper chest in such a hefty fashion. Bumpy areolae, prominent nipples.

'You're going to be touching me a lot from now on, honey. Part of me being your Mummy is doing what I say, and treating my body just as it deserves. With worshipful affection.'

I shut my eyes and shiver, hating and loving this. Hating her, yet being in her thrall. Loving her body, loving how every inch of it looks, loving how she smells sweetly and strongly of womanliness and something extra.

'Of course, Mummy. I'll…worship you.'

And the worst of it is that I enjoy it so much. That I can't help but appreciate the way her hips feel against my hands, so squishy and plump, warm and welcoming. That I can't help but find the fuzz of stubble interesting against my tongue and the salty flavour of her sweat pleasing as it coats my tastebuds.

She chuckles, almost giggles, as I wash her pit with my tongue. It's so degrading, so humiliating, so strange and yet so sexy. An act of submission, an act of worship, an act of bizarre affection of the sort she so clearly craves and demands.

'So cute,' Irina says, lowering her other arm. She gropes my back, strokes down my naked shape. 'Such a handsome body on you, honey. It really gets me going. Whenever I see you I just want to mount you, or to push you onto your knees.'

Her admission shouldn't be surprising at this point, but it causes me to tremble all the same. It's something about her affection that is fundamentally troublesome, the way in which she behaves with such open meanness and yet appears to have this intense interest in me, this desire for me which makes all of her degradation and humiliation seem faulty.

I can't wrap my head around the idea of being so awful to someone and yet apparently desiring them so badly. She's insane. Clearly insane.

But then given that my cock responds to her remark by throbbing and firming up, I might have a decent dose of madness in me as well.

'Are you two actually showering in there?' Maddie says, outside the door. 'Don't we need to be in the office by now?'

Irina chuckles. 'Mads, honey, Mummy is busy. Go and sit, and wait. I'll be out when I'm out.'

The sound Maddie produces is frustration of an odd sort. I can't quite place it. It's especially hard to make sense of it – to focus on anything at all, for that matter – because Irina pulls my head out from her armpit and stares down at me with a hunger I've not seen on her before. She looks like she might eat me.

But then the dusky Amazoness lifts her other hand from me, switching grips. 'The other, honey. And then you'll wash my breasts.' She winks, emerald excellence. 'Something to look forward to.'

How guilty I feel, that it actually is something to be excited about. That she's right. It plagues my head as I move to her other armpit, as she plies those fingers up and down the dip of my back, tracing out the curvature of my spine. The backbone, that I clearly fucking lack.

And God, my cock is so fucking hard now. It's not long before she notices, as I begin to lick "clean" her other stubbly pit.

'Oh, honey,' Irina says, slipping that hand around to my front. She gently dips her fingers down, then pulls them back, teasing at the inevitable. 'What a lovely cock you have. And it's not shy, is it? Despite being in the presence of a resplendently superior article.'

I suck in a mouthful of sweetly fragrant armpit air as she brushes the top of my annoying erection with her fingernails, their sharpness and warmth provoking a troublesome shiver through me.

'M-ummy…you shouldn't.'

'Shouldn't I? Shouldn't I take care of my lovely boy's beautiful dick?' Irina chuckles, mocking and alluring at once, as she slips her fingers around my pole. Her skin is silken, her touch hot, but it's unwanted. Unwanted, and yet awfully enjoyable. 'Submit to me, Theo. Acknowledge your place. We both know you're not there yet, but would it hurt to fall to your knees and worship me like the goddess I am?'

This time it's me who leaves her armpit, but Irina doesn't protest. Her smile is unbearable, so arrogantly attractive. The way she considers me, some pet or plaything, some lesser human, should provoke nothing but hatred.

I really am fucked up, aren't I? All of this. Any of it. I should've left at the start. Should've gone to the police and taken my chances. But fuck, there was some kernel there. Some seed planted in me. And look how it's blossomed.

Look where I am now. Stood alone in Maddie's bathroom, door locked, under the pretence of "showering" but everyone knows it's a lie. This is just another stepping stone towards whatever hell it is I'm going to, and the deeper I wander into this tunnel of temptations the harder it is to respect myself. And at the same time, the harder it is to hate where I'm headed.

'I call you Mummy,' I say. 'I play along. You get what you want.'

She slowly shakes her head, lengthy ponytail of crimson shifting. 'But I don't, honey. Remember what we said, about religion? About contracts? This will be right, will be as I need it, when there exists no notion of refusal. When you don't simply act the part, but believe . Mummy is just a word, Theo, but I want more than words. I want your heart.'

Somehow I do nothing. Somehow she reaches for my chin with her newly freed hand and scoops it up, tilts my head back, and dips herself forwards to press her lips upon mine. For a moment I resist, clam up, but then I'm…then I'm kissing her back. Tasting her sweetness, basking in the heat of her body, and the way she slowly tugs on my length.

'Mhm.'

How can I like this? How can I want it? Jesus Christ. The easy path, the path of least resistance, grows harder and harder because I have to resist, I have to maintain some part of me that's still the Theo I knew.

But he becomes fainter with each passing day. He's overshadowed, time and again, by the new Theo who is coming to love his chains.

'It's not so bad,' Irina says, sweet and whispered. She pulls away slightly, brushing her nose against mine. 'It's not, is it? It can be nice, honey. It can be lovely. But you have to submit. You have to see me as what I am. I'd hoped that claiming and breeding Maddie would do it, but it clearly hasn't.'

'Why'd you think that would work?'

She wets her lips with that perfect pink tongue, smiling happily. 'You can't submit to my affections, clearly. My looks don't do it. You've tasted my semen, serviced my penis, been mounted time after time. The trend is clear, through it all, that whatever your protests, you crave a stern hand. An iron fist, in a velvet glove. What better way to assert my superiority in your eyes than to take the girl's womb for myself, honey?'

I can kind of see the twisted logic. It certainly builds off of the fact that, as rotten as it is, something about it turns me on. The broken thing is that as many times as I've wanked off to things with breeding themes, the protagonist was always me. Not some third-party.

The facts are the facts, all the same.

'Superiority doesn't work like that. People are equal.'

'Are they?' Irina chuckles. Mocking generally, not me specifically. The very idea of equality seems alien, in her enchanting eyes. 'You're a man, Theo. A male. You have a penis, and testicles. You produce sperm.' She continues to softly tug, and slides her other hand up from my jaw to my left cheek, fingers tracing dancing circles. 'I'm a futanari, honey. I have a bigger penis, and bigger testicles. I produce more sperm, and better sperm. In no sane natural order would you ever win in raw sexuality, and we both know that I come out on top everywhere else.'

There's something primal, and awful, in that notion. Something difficult to shake off. To boil us down, two people, into our genitals and our capacity to produce semen. But then she adds that extra qualifier, and I can't help but think that she's right about the rest. It's hard to imagine that I'm smarter than she is, and I'm certainly not richer. I stare up at her, try to conjure up some realm in which I would always win, but…nothing.

Maddie's affection? But Mads went behind my back. Gave Irina the advantage. Chose a world with the futanari in it, regardless of my preferences.

'I…there must be…'

Something pokes up against me. Something hot, and huge. I glance down and see it, for the hundredth time. Irina Blackwell's big dusky dick, wrist-thick and capped in an enormous helmet, hooded by foreskin. Something at least double the size of my perfectly-average prick.

And as it bumps against my belly, Irina says, 'Someone's woken up. You see what you do to me? See how my body responds to your presence?'

'You must be wrong,' I say, managing to pull my gaze away from her growing erection and meet her gaze. To stare at her face. To stare into such enrapturing beauty. 'I'll find something. You're not just better than me.'

'I thought everyone was equal, honey? Did that change so quickly?'

'I just mean that…that you're…'

'That I'm what, honey? Right?' Irina flashes me a dark smile, and slips her hand from my cheek to my shoulder. The other leaves behind my cock, tracing up my belly. 'You've chosen this, and you're playing along. But it's hard to disagree, isn't it? Even Mads, trustworthy lovely pretty Mads, who schemed against me with you, wanted this.' She chuckles sweetly. A sound at odds with its intent, but this woman is so viciously mad that to her this is good. This is right. 'Keep washing me, Theo. Know your place. Know how lucky you are.'

It's like seeing myself from outside myself. Irina doesn't need to push or urge, because I just go with it. Go with the way she pulls me into that voluptuous valley of her chest, into the warmth of her body while her huge-helmeted cock pokes against my own.

I can't think. Can't think of a single "gotcha" to end the thought spiral. There must be something that I do better, but what? Shit, I'm not her! But…that hardly seems convincing.

Because all the other areas where Irina comes out on top are passingly quantifiable. Things that other people might actually judge.

'Good boy,' Irina says, massaging my shoulders. 'Make sure to get the undersides. They get a little sweaty, being so big and all.'

I'm tasting her sweat, and I can't hate it. Can't help but adore the way her tits swallow my face, engulf me with their excellence. The biggest and fattest and most beautiful pair of breasts in all the world, at least as I've seen. Attached to Irina, who just has to have it all. Has to be so perfect, except for that rotten core of her mind. Her total absence of a soul.

But fuck me, the affection feels weirdly genuine.

Irina continues to ply the flesh of my shoulders as I find myself fighting the powerful urge to motorboat her massive melons, to take actual vulgar interest in doing this thing that I need to hate and need to loathe and need to not want but…it's difficult. Hard. Harder than my cock is right now.

'There, honey. Clean my–mhm–naughty fat tits with that lovely servile tongue.'

I shiver as she speaks, shudder as I run my tastebuds down beneath her bulky breasts, one after the other, finding myself engulfed by their excessive enormity. The sheer fatness of each bulky breast, as they naturally sag down and their weight presses my tongue between titty and her torso, is an awfully awesome thing.

Her body is just…it's just…

'Here,' she says, gripping the back of my head. 'Nurse on Mummy.'

And I let her do it. Let her just guide my mouth up to the middle of her right boob, where my lips meet that bumpy wide halo and then that protruding nipple, rigidly aroused. Instinct takes over, stabs sense in the side, leaves reason writhing as my disturbing desire for the dusky-skinned dickgirl Amazonian asserts itself over my deeds.

Mlep. Slurp .

Irina giggles, more girlish than adult. 'Ooh. I do so love that. Suckle, honey. No milk's going to come out, but we can pretend, can't we? God, we can enjoy pretending.'

I sink one of my hands into each breast, steadying myself by fondling and groping the yielding perfection of her 44K chest. Irina doesn't mind, doesn't stop me. I'm so little a threat now, clearly. And the less threatening I am, the more she'll loosen up, the more things will get to a place that's more mutual, despite being the farthest thing from it.

Because I'm not her partner, but a pet. A plaything. A toy.

'Good boy,' she says, stroking my hair, patting my head. 'Mummy's good boy. Mummy's best boy.'

My eyelids flutter as I suck with such passionate intensity, flicking my tongue about her nipple, tasting the saltiness of her skin, relishing the bumpiness of her areola. Pressing against her breasts my face sinks in, swallowed up by the softness, the beautiful bounciness of what must be up there as some of the finest breasts in all the world.

And they're Irina's, and that's terrible. But they're Irina's…and something about that is, at the same time, perversely sexy.

Schlep. Mlup.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

'That mouth just doesn't quit, does it?' She chuckles. 'The other now, Theo. Clean them both. Be a good boy.'

There's this awkward moment where I pause, a string of saliva connecting my mouth to her breast. I see Irina, and Irina sees me. And she's never looked more in control, proud, dominant. As if I'm a dog and she's thrown me a bone, knowing that I'm so weak, so malleable.

"I could make you suck my cock or I could fuck you, but I can just as well make you wash your body with my tongue. Because you will, won't you? And you'll enjoy it. You enjoy all of it. You enjoy everything."

It's what her eyes say. What that look says. And it's right, I suppose, because I just dip my head down upon her other breast, sucking away, lapping and licking like a starved fool drinking from the most wonderful source of sustenance in all the world.

'See what obedience gets you?' Irina says, all soft and whispery. 'You get to worship me, honey. You get to affirm as your goddess. With every subtle suck and lick, you're telling me your truth, honey. You're telling me how you really see me.'

I wince and shut my eyes and wish she was entirely wrong, wish I could just shout her down, but…this does feel so natural, doesn't it? I touch her flesh and I'm in awe, excited, desperately aroused. I ply her wonderful body and I want more of it, want to explore it, want to…to worship it.

Again that thought, that realisation that if only Irina weren't who she is, she'd be perfect. I'd accept her exactly as she is physically, cock and balls included. I'd even be happy to submit in an affectionate manner, a playful but otherwise equal approach.

But what does it say about me that I don't seem to care who she is? That I do this thing and love it, fucking crave it, while knowing full-well her nature?

I'm not in the dark here. I can't be excused. It's as simple as this: I find her disgusting as a human being, and yet nobody else in the world arouses me half so much.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

Schlup. Schlap.

'That's it, baby. Mhm. Nurse on me. Nurse on Mummy.'

I fondle the other breast with my left hand, grope one of her hips with my right. Suckle and slurp on her fat fucking tits, wholly absorbed in this act that – cleaning it is certainly not – tells her all that she needs to know. Tells me plenty, and yet I resist the truth it contains.

I simply don't hate her enough.

Another bang on the door. 'I'm sorry to interrupt, Mummy,' Mads says, a little nervous, plenty flustered. 'But it's really getting on. Are you two almost done?'

'Maddie, honey, we both know it's not about getting into work,' Irina says. As she speaks, she slips her hands onto my shoulders again, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. 'Theo needs time with Mummy as well, okay? So wait patiently, or you'll be on the naughty step. No cock for a week.'

The little whimper from the other side of the door is a chillingly carnal thing. It makes me shiver, fills my head with the lurid reminder of how Maddie is utterly smitten with our boss, at least in terms of lust. No wonder she lied, and chose a dangerous day. No wonder she went behind my back, hoping to make it one big family instead of us, doing our own thing.

Even on our horniest days together, she's never made a sound quite so telling.

'Down,' Irina says, as Maddie's footfalls fade away. 'Down, honey. On your knees.'

A lump of nerves bundles up in my throat as she applies dedicated force, not harsh or sudden, but firm and irresistible. Irina pushes me and I can do nothing but accept this fate, slipping onto the floor, knees upon the hard tiles. Her erection, that enormous length of beautiful bronze flesh, so intimidating and powerful, brushes against my bare chest. The muskiness of her crotch is particularly nose-tickling, not at all unpleasant but definitely unwashed from last night, rich with pseudo-masculine virility, stale semen, and the sweetly tangy fragrance of mingling sexes. Her oil-black pubes, glistening away like a forest at the base of her dick, fading as dusky flesh dips into that dangling overstuffed sack, are temptingly familiar.

I almost speak, expectant of her penis, for this to become a blowjob, but my boss promptly turns about and presents her exceedingly plump buttocks to me. Each cheek is easily larger than my head, and I'm gruesomely aware of what she's after. Particularly when she uses her hands to part their fatty heft and reveal a gorgeously smooth sphincter, puckered and lustrous, a shade of chocolate brown.

'Eat up, honey. Clean Mummy's arse with that dutiful tongue.'

The command is heard, but…adhering is another matter. It's not that it's necessarily unclean, but the perception is there. Her smells if anything are pleasant, even in their more pungent aspects. Sensuality oozing from every contour of her form.

'Mummy…do I really have to?'

Irina nods, chuckling. Her lovely length of crimson hair, that veritable mane of red, rises and falls up the ditch of her beautiful back. Even from behind, her body is exquisite. The obviousness of her hips, the heavy hourglass of her figure.

'You do, honey. You're a good boy, aren't you? You want to do right by me, don't you?'

No, but yes. I don't, but do. Even her exposed anus, gorgeous as the rest of her, is tantalising. And I'm so far gone, so deep into this whole process. Does it matter?

'I am,' I say, reaching for the backs of her thighs. 'I'm…I'm a good boy, Mummy.'

The muskiness of her body makes me salivate as I grow so close that its richness overwhelms my nostrils. Her fertility, her virility. That pheromonal power, not arcane or supernatural but the simple bodily awareness of mating and rutting and breeding and all that biological perverseness. That reminder that I'm just an animal, and she's just an animal, and sex is in our fucking DNA.

Sex of any kind, given our imaginativeness as a species.

And beyond the faint bitterness, mingling with the general saltiness of her skin, I like it. More than like it. The heat and the lustrousness of her sphincter, the faint wrinkles of it against my tongue, are incredibly pleasant. Irina steadily softens the way in which she holds apart her cheeks, letting them sandwich my face in her crack. Maybe once I'd have been startled by the sense of humid engulfment, but not now. Not this latest iteration in a line of vile submissive cretins that all share the name "Theo".

Slup. Mlep.

I lick, and she trembles. 'Ooh. Honey. Dirty boy.' I lick, and she quivers. 'Ughn. I wondered how far you'd–mhm–go. Take things.' I lick, and she shudders. 'I've done you such a favour, haven't I? Letting you–aahn–relish in your squalor. In how pathetic you are.'

'Mhm. Mumph.'

And as my hands sink into the fat of her thighs, and as my tongue begins widening the opening between her plump butt cheeks, I have no answer. Not in me or out of me. Even this is good, is nice. Even this.

Schlep. Schluck.

'That's it, honey. Find my–ugh–prostate. Do it. Get right in there, you slutty little loser.'

Her words only spur me to act, to push on. Her arsehole widens and accepts my intrepid tongue, squeezing down on my length of luridness while I sloppily dig deeper and deeper into that dirtiest of depths. The saltiness of her skin gives way to a general low bitterness, not unpleasant, but faintly filthy. She's clean, but it's still a bum . Still a particularly vulgar place.

'Mhm-hm.'

As I stroke her thighs and squeeze them, as her humid cheeks clench and unclench against my face, I'm surprised at how naturally this comes to me. How instinctual it is, this process of touching on a silken spot and noting her response, and then applying extra care to that region. How for as badly as I dislike her, Irina…Irina does provoke servility in me.

Oh, I can imagine myself dominating her, pinning her down and screwing her, but I can't really picture it . Like a depressive, that version of the world is simply not realistic enough to pursue.

But my brain readily conjures any number of outcomes where I submit. Where I tend to her needs, and do so with eagerness. Eagerness I should despise, but eagerness all the same.

Slurp. Mlep.

'Ooh. Honey, you're so good at that.' She clenches, squeezing against my face. It feels incredible, to have such fat muscular cheeks practically swallowing half of my head. 'You're in your element back there, aren't you? You love my body ever so much.'

I do. God, I do. The best female form in all the world. Deliciously dusky skin and mountainous mammaries and heavenly hips and an awesome arse. And a huge cock, yes. And huge balls, yes.

I'm…I'm pretty sure I know where this is going. Pretty certain that if time isn't of the essence, she's going to make me clean her cock. And I'm going to suck it, of my own accord, because it'll just happen. Instinctively, that's what I'll do. I won't be able to resist.

Because I do so sorely appreciate her body, and what could be more appreciative than tasting, and savouring, and swallowing its genes?

I'm scared of how my head works, passingly and otherwise. Terrified that this far into things, with all the evidence in the world, some repulsive part of me still craves her in some fashion. Still longs for what I shouldn't.

It makes eating her arsehole ever so easy. Makes this whole thing not simply something to switch off on, but to eagerly engage with.

'Mhm.' Schlup. Mlap. 'Mumph.'

'As good as this feels, honey, there's a little bit more of me to focus on,' she says, pairing her words with a gentle pulling away. 'Or a big bit of me, to be pedantic.'

I can only watch, only stare, not so much aghast – because I knew it would go this way – but wide-eyed in trepidation as she turns herself about. As those fat cushioning cheeks slip away from my face and I'm left in the noticeably cooler, less finely fragrant air of Maddie's bathroom, my heart thunders and my cock twitches.

Irina Blackwell turns about, cock swinging, and angles it just so, just right to slap against the side of my face. A bulky lump of searing weight, erect and in need of release. My mind races with rejections but finds instead plentiful affirmations. That this is right, that this is necessary, that she's won, that I can't compete.

I wet my lips, tasting her salty sweat and bitter backside, and Irina chuckles. Her gaze, a thing of emerald enthralment, fits just as well in the face of some mythical dragon as it does the hugely hung Amazonian futanari.

'That's the look,' she says, giving my head a humiliating pat. 'That expression is perfect, honey. I think I'll wash my cock myself. You can go and get dressed. We'd best be heading into the office soon.'

'But…you said…I was going to…'

She brushes the backs of that hand's fingers down my cheek, nails warm and hard. 'I said what, Theo? What did I say?'

'I was going to…to clean you.'

Her cock, dangling ahead of me, inches away from my face, throbs visibly. Its veins bulge, its musk is rich and potent, heady. I'm salivating. I'm fucking salivating.

'We both know that's not what this is about, honey.' Irina cups my jaw and strokes my skin, lifting me casually to look at her. To meet that demonic smirk. Pride, manifest, the very embodiment of that sin. 'You don't have to tell me anything with words, because that mouth has already spoken. You're free to, of course. You can say anything you think might–'

'Don't clean your cock, Mummy. I…I'll do it. At work. Under your desk.'

Irina chews on her lower lip, eyes alive with victorious vainglory. 'I thought you might. You're starting to understand yourself, aren't you? To see what I see.'

I nod, slow as can be. 'I can't resist you. I need to and I want to, but I can't.'

'That's not true, honey. All that I've done, I've done to ensure that it's not true.'

'How?'

'How much more of a cage do you want to build before you can finally allow yourself to think you're trapped, Theo? Don't you see? The moment you accept that there's no way out, there'll be no need to resist me.' She squeezes my jaw and smiles serenely. 'You have this job and you have our deal and you have your contract, but still you're not letting it go. How deep must this pit go before you realise you can't scale the walls?'

She wets her lips and releases my face, bringing that same hand to her shaft. That perfect pole, that bronze beauty. Irina's member rises at her urging, so fat and heavy, some lance of raw heat and primal passion. I find myself staring as the richly stinking hooded head comes up before my mouth, its silken folds of excess skin threatening to brush my lips.

The most intimidating sight in all the world, and I can't stop myself from salivating. Can't take my eyes off of it.

Irina pulls back her foreskin, freeing the plum-purple tip, so vast and vulgar, glossy and gorgeous. My nostrils tingle, struck by the sensuality of its muskiness. I want to lick my lips, want to taste her. Want this thing I should despise, want this woman I should loathe.

'There's no way out, honey,' Irina says. 'I own you. Nobody could judge you for giving me what I want. And if you want it too, does it matter? Won't we both be happy?'

I lick my lips, and part them. Lean forwards, reaching, craving, hungry and needy and fuck it, fuck it all, who cares? I'm pathetic and she's evil, but she's won . The more I fight the deeper the hole gets. The higher the cost of rebelling.

But at the last moment, when my tastebuds might be graced by that delicious dick, Irina lifts it up and out of reach.

'I thought as much,' she says, giving my head a tussle. 'I'm going to go and get dressed, Theo. You know that my door's always open, honey.'

As the dusky dickgirl saunters away, I stare at my hands. Halfway up, ready to take hold of her pride and joy. To help me milk her of her first big batch of futanari semen, the freshest and heaviest of a day's worth of vastly virile ejaculations.

I turn and follow Irina's path, finding Maddie out there in her room, ready for work. She blushes when she sees me, seeming to relish the sight, to find some part of herself in it. And I understand, in some sense, how she can so readily submit.

Because fuck me, it's becoming harder and harder to stop myself.

Chapter 8: The Taste of Success

Summary:

Theo, beginning to accept his place, goes to Irina to establish the future of their relationship. What follows, naturally, is his first "real" blowjob. That given not for trade, not for some higher purpose, but simply to please his Mummy...

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: The Taste of Success

The atmosphere is awkward in the office. Maddie, having been left out of the strange situation in the shower, the shower-that-wasn't, gets on with her work in silence. Not angry at me, as such – after what she's done, I doubt she feels she has the right to be – but distant, all the same.

Things are real, now. Real, and accelerating. There's a faint discomfort, a result of not actually having washed. At least I don't particularly smell, so far as I can tell, but I can't get the opulent odours of Irina out of my head. Her muskiness, her tantalising fragrances, create lurid lascivious thought loops, things I shouldn't be considering for even a passing moment.

But I'm too far gone, aren't I? To step back from this now seems a thorough impossibility. Had things gone on for a few moments more, I'd have had Irina's cock inside my mouth again. She didn't even have to tell me what to do, but I'd have done it. Shit, even the thought of it makes me lick my lips and salivate at the possibility of such perversion.

And somehow, I can't be angry at Mads. She went behind my back, made a decision without consulting me, and yet…again, too far gone . Maddie made up her mind, and chose to carry Irina's child. Children. I don't know just yet. We'd agreed on our scheme, had everything in motion, and then this. A rejection that all reason and logic say should hurt like hell, but it doesn't.

It doesn't, because when I was on my knees, with my boss's big dark dick ahead of me, stinking richly of muskiness and stale spooge, I found some awful appreciation for Irina Blackwell that has always been there in the background, scratching at my sanity with its titillating talons.

'I'm sorry for what I did,' Mads says, speaking first. 'I don't have any excuse that isn't slutty, and maybe even a little bit disgusting, but I'm sorry all the same.'

Still, she doesn't turn to me. The pretty blonde pauses her work, wrings her hands anxiously, yet stares at the screen of her laptop without bothering to turn my way. Perhaps without the capacity to do so.

'Was it really a dangerous day?'

She nods without a moment's pause. 'The most fertile in my cycle. I suppose we'll know soon enough, right?'

'Fuck.'

At my quick utterance, Maddie looks at me half-on. Her eyes, that brilliant shade of blue, are faintly wet. Her lips quiver, her cheeks take on a low pinkness. Pretty, verging on beautiful, with those bouncy blonde curls, with her petite yet womanly form.

'We'll find a way to have our children, if it means that much to you,' Mads says, slow and methodical. 'But I want her, Theo. God, I want her so badly. And the crueller she seems, the meaner and madder, the more I want her.' A single tear slips down her right cheek, and she hastily brushes it away. 'It's messed up, I know, but her body…her cock .'

'I know,' I say, earning her full attention. 'I think I want her, too. It's slowly making sense, and on some level, I hate myself for it, but I appreciate why you did what you did. She's… exquisite .'

The word just comes out, carrying all of these bundled-up beliefs in one neat, vulgar package. Exquisite . Peerless, in so many ways. And what Mads says is true, as well. That the eviler she seems, the more enrapturing she is. I know better than to continue down this path, know sanely that this is an abandonment of the self, but I'm not sure I care anymore. Maddie is carrying, or will soon be carrying, Irina's offspring. I can either submit to her or relinquish everything I've suffered through to earn, but there's no middle ground option.

'Theo…'

'I know.' I shut my eyes, her judgement soft but the surprise obvious in her voice. 'Look, I have two choices, right? I stay, with you, with Irina, and keep what I've got. Or I go, and lose it all. But when it comes to Irina herself? There's no choice. I have tried, again, and again, to fight back these urges in me, but…I am more attracted to her now than I was when this began. I am ever so attracted to her, Mads.' When I open my eyes, meeting her gaze, I'm surprised that I'm not crying. What I'm admitting, after all, is the closest thing to pathetic that I've ever acknowledged. 'I can stay, or I can go, but I can't refuse Irina. Be it tomorrow, be it a week, or a month, or a year, she's going to win. I don't have a lifetime's willpower inside of me.'

Maddie flutters her eyes, sucks in a short breath. 'I'll still love you, Theo. If you can still love me, that is.'

'Of course,' I say, nodding. 'I don't think that's part of what she's after. I mean, I don't know if I can love her , but I can certainly love what we do. And maybe this is the best way, in the end. Wealthy pets of Irina Blackwell, but we'll still have one another.'

She smiles sweetly, and turns back to her laptop. 'Thank you, Theo. I was worried I might have to do this alone.'

'She's that irresistible?'

Maddie chews on her lower lip and nods frantically. 'Y-eah. Her cock is just…it's perfect . It's not just big, but she knows just what to do with it, and always shoots such big, hot, heavy loads.'

To hear such an admission would've hurt, before these latest events. I can accept, now, that I can't compete with Irina Blackwell. Mads is absolutely something of a size-queen, and that's her prerogative. But Mads, as well, has a bond with me. Gets her affection from me…and gets her sex from Irina. From Mummy .

In fact, merely considering Maddie's words, her appreciation for the awesome endowment of our hung futanari boss, provokes a solidifying in my trousers. A throbbing, and a need to do something about it.

'Maddie,' I say, pushing back on my chair. She glances my way, and for half a moment seems to expect a sexual request. For half a moment, that's where my head ends up, as well. But then I find myself…find myself wanting something more thorough . 'Excuse me.'

Mads blushes as I pass her by, going out into the hallway of the uppermost floor of Blackwell Limited. The boss's door is open, and the sight of it gives me pause. I'm aware, passingly, that if I ask for this, I'm going to have to do something in return. That if I want Irina to make me cum, I'm going to have to return the favour. Both parts of this sordid scenario involve, without fail, an admittance of my shifting patterns of thought. Both parts involve, without fail, an acceptance of Irina as Mummy .

I find her utterly peerless, despite not having showered this morning. Irina Blackwell sits behind her desk, studying a report on her tablet, glancing over those half-rimmed glasses in an effortlessly sensual fashion. Her eyes, raw enchanting emeralds, are all the more perfect for their contrast with her dark, exotic skin. Despite the lack of shower, her makeup is nonetheless spotless, done partly during the car journey and then finalised here in her office.

'Theodore,' she says, without glancing my way. 'Is there a reason you're looming in my doorway?'

I shiver beneath the lurid luxury of her voice, stepping inside and shutting the door behind me. Down go the blinds, for the sake of precaution, and only with the veil of privacy surrounding us does the dusky-skinned dickgirl dominatrix glance up at me, her full crescent lips forming a cock-aching smirk.

'Well, honey?'

'I've come to certain realisations,' I say, taking a steady step forwards. 'About my situation. About our situation.'

She runs her perfect white teeth along her lower lip and brings down an elbow atop her desk, leaning on a flattened upright palm. 'Do tell, Theo. I'm all ears. Has my wisdom finally started to get its claws into you, this late in the day?'

'Look, we both know I can't step back from this now. I'm in too deep, and I have far too much to lose.'

'That sounds about right, yes.' Irina smirks at me, wets her lovely crimson lips. 'As I said, so you are. All this time you've fought me, pushed back at me, but it's not so easy, is it? Not when you're contending with your true nature.'

I pause in my approach, hesitating midway between the doorway and the front of her desk. True nature, she says, and it's not meant to be an empowering notion. Not in the traditional sense. My "true nature," in the eyes of Irina Blackwell, is that of a submissive servant for her delectable dominance. Someone who, confronted with her, with all of her beauty and balefulness, capitulates.

And before, I feared it. Hated it with every ounce of me. But I can't pretend away the fact that, just earlier today, I was on the cusp of acting without any need for her to command me. I wanted…wanted what I know, still, that which I should never want, but I wanted it all the same.

'Let's say that I am,' I say, moving towards her. Towards that desk, opulent and unnecessarily showy, suiting her perfectly. 'Can I ask, in this case, for a sexual favour?'

Irina snorts, her composure faltering for a moment, not in the least impinging on her well-made-up attractiveness. 'You are getting bold, aren't you? But words don't mean a great deal, honey. It's all well and good, you implying that I'm right, but I need proof. Actions speak far louder than words, Theodore.'

I knew, on some level, that things would go this way. Now, if only she'll tell me what to do, I'm spared the indignation of it. Somehow, that saves me. Or it would, and will, if only she'll say something.

But as I approach her desk, as I stand before it, a mere metre across from her, Irina merely smirks at me. Smugness, devilish pride. An exquisitely beautiful woman, with a rotten black counterfeit soul. And yet here I am, making a choice. Here I am, in the lion's den.

'What do you want me to do?'

'I don't want you to do anything, honey. I want you to tell me what it is that you want to do to me.' She winks, emerald enchantment in a momentary gesture. 'I'm not stupid, Theo. This isn't going to work unless you're happy to come clean with me.' Irina pulls back from the desk and relaxes into her grand chair, her throne of office. It's impossible to avoid noting, as she moves, the jiggle of those sublimely sizeable breasts. The same tits I was applying my tongue to, earlier this morning. 'We're so close, I can feel it. So close to finally getting what we both want. So give me it, honey. Tell me the honest truth. I've done so much to break you down, isn't it about time we build you up? An honest, happier Theodore Brackley?'

Her words put a chill down my back, their meaning undeniable. Irina, getting her own way, but more than that. Me, admitting that I want her to get her own way. Me, admitting what I was about to do in the bathroom earlier. Me, admitting that for all she's done to me, it hasn't deterred this desire I feel towards her.

'You know what I was about to do,' I say. 'In the bathroom, this morning.'

'Oh, I know.' Irina smirks, hinting at lovely pearly-whites. 'Spell it out for me, in English. I want to know, honey. I want to know what you were about to do without me telling you to do it.'

There's no going back from this, is there? I step forwards again, right up to the edge of her desk, catching a whiff of her scents. Sweet perfume and yet, beneath it, that potent muskiness of her body, this morning unwashed. Cock and balls pleasantly ripe, their potent odour thick and virile, enticingly vulgar.

'I wanted to give you a blowjob, all right? I wanted you to tell me to do it, but you didn't. I wouldn't have refused.' To speak such an admittance, lurid as it is, to this woman of all people in the world, is somehow liberating. 'I know why you didn't have me do it, and here I am. Telling you the truth.'

Irina's mouth is a thing of enthralling magic, a dark enchantment etched into the shape of a pair of full, lacquered lips. She moves it just so, provoking a tinge of excitement in my trousers. It's endlessly bothersome, that she has so powerful an impact on me. That for all she's done, I can't separate my attraction from her sins.

'It's been a long time since this all began, hasn't it?' Irina says, pushing gently backwards from her desk. 'Do you remember that blowjob you gave me to secure that promotion? It meant something, didn't it?'

The implication in her stance is obvious, the quick descent of her hands to hike up her skirt while she widens her gait to make room for me below her, beneath her desk. Irina, noting the awareness in my eyes, smirks all the fiercer.

'This one won't mean anything, Theo. Maybe I'll get you off, or maybe I won't, but this isn't transactional. Continue being honest, honey, right up to the moment my sperm are swimming across your tongue. Acknowledge me as I deserve.'

It boils down to this, doesn't it? She's laid out the terms, and if I go forwards, then I'll be playing to her tune. This isn't about some deal, this isn't about obeying her. This is about me, wanting this. Wanting to service her. Wanting, as well, to taste the same genes that have doubtlessly put a baby inside of Mads. Wanting to…wanting to acknowledge my balefully beautiful boss in the most servile manner either of us can picture.

'Okay,' I manage to say. 'I will.'

Irina wets her lips, while I'm aware that I'm beginning to salivate. She turns her chair out in my direction, legs spread wide, and as I turn the corner to the rear of her desk, her excessive endowments are on full and fantastic show.

Her cock is mostly erect, from the simple prelude of conversation. The weight of it is obvious, the way it sits across her plump pair of smooth balls, each like a fat kiwi fruit in size and shape. Her pubes are dark, bushy, wild above the base of her length, which is dusky and alluring, veined towards its overtly opulent crown, the dark purple of which peeks through the folds of her foreskin, faintly glistening.

The dominant dickgirl beckons me closer, and I go to her like a zombie, caught up in a trance. Where before I knew I needed to resist, now I can't seem to envision it. Now, all that matters is that I capitulate to her. That I sate this vulgar urge, boiling up within me, which demands I demean myself by honouring her.

And when I get close enough, Irina snatches me by the shoulders and pulls me in close, pressing her mouth to my own. Mwah. Smack. With dominating hunger she eats my face, sticking her tongue right past my lips and using it as some tool of lasciviousness to push down my own, to assert herself over me. For all her womanliness, the Amazonian beauty is strong, effortlessly pressing down on me and forcing me onto my knees, all the while maintaining the rough snogging up until the last moment.

She pulls away, lips glistening, emerald eyes aflame with possessive passion, depraved dominance. Irina brings up a hand to the top of my head and strokes back my hair, winding her fingers through the individual fibres.

'I know you're not completely where I want you to be yet, Theo,' she says, resting back in her chair, the veritable throne of her office. 'You don't fool me.'

'You think I'm going to do this and not mean it?'

'It's not that.' She presses a finger to the middle of my forehead, nail faintly scratching on the skin. 'You're still reticent. Still trying to supress that part of you that wants nothing more than to give yourself to me. I see it in your eyes, honey.'

After a moment, unsure quite where to look, I say, 'Wouldn't you be?'

'I'd never be in your situation, Theo. This is going above and beyond, and I'm not going to turn you away, but you can't really give yourself fully over to the rightfulness of things. That first admittance, that request for something of a trade, makes it clear even if your face were better at concealing the truth.' She sighs, and taps my forehead, rolling her emerald eyes. 'What I want, Theo, is for you to never think of yourself. To never ask for anything in return. To enter this room with the sole purpose of sating my lusts, without a hint of hope that you might get some pleasure as a reward.'

Her utterance puts a chill through me, culminating in a violent throbbing of my cock. It says something vulgar, absurd, that the possibility of some future self who capitulates to her in so thorough and perverse a fashion seems something readily imaginable now, where before I despised such a permutation of the self that it seemed the antithesis of my very being. As I inhale the disturbingly delectable musk of her crotch, finding in its odour a saliva-invoking waft of potency that far outpaces my own, my gaze falls down from hers to passingly marvel at the exceptional excess of her chest, the womanly curvature of her torso, and finally comes to rest on the sensual sight of her mighty member.

'I'm letting you do this because, despite all I've just said, I also know that you want it,' Irina says, garnering an upwards flick of my eyes. Her face is exquisite, her beauty dark and delicious, terrifying and tantalising. The contrast of her dusky skin, that dyed crimson hair, and those verdant green eyes is astounding. 'Are you going to give me a real blowjob, honey? A long, slow, worshipful act of service, culminating in a heavy mouthful of my genes?'

I don't hesitate to lick my lips, something about the depravity desirable as well as worrisome. 'That's why I'm here, Mummy.'

She laughs, a two-note humour. Irina pats my head, sending coruscations of carnality down my spine as she runs her nails across my scalp. 'Then say it, Theo. Stop hiding. Admit that I'm superior, and admit that the closest you'll ever be to my equal is to let my sperm swim across your tastebuds, and into your belly. Give me a blowjob that says not merely that you want to please me, but that all you want in return is the opportunity to taste my body in its rawest and most intimate form.'

As I slowly reach for her cock, I shy away from her green gaze. The warmth of her body tickles at the tips of my fingers, and the moment I touch her shaft, very almost fully engorged, I shiver. Familiar and yet foreign, somehow, as if today is different. As if today is somehow the very first time I've actually done this, despite knowing full well that it's not.

As if today, I'm doing it for real, and not simply wishing I was elsewhere.

'I can't,' I say. 'Sorry.'

'You can't what, honey? You're still touching me.'

'I can't tell you what you want to hear, Irina. I…I'm not there yet.'

The buxom, baleful beauty chuckles. 'That's a spicy choice of wording, Theodore. You know what it implies, don't you?'

'I know.' As I firm up my grip on her mammoth member, lavishing in the heat and weight and power of it, I know . 'I'm not going anywhere, all right? One of these days, I'll…I'll be who you want me to be. Just not today.'

'We'll see,' she says. 'Kiss me, honey. I give you permission.'

A final glance at her gorgeous greens does all that's necessary, paired with that vulgar command. I lift her lance towards my mouth, the muskiness tingling my nostrils, her bulky bell-end, richly lustrous purple beneath the folds of dusky skin, warming my lips simply from proximity. Mwah . The kiss comes without hesitation, for all reservation is dead. But…it doesn't come without a degree of surprise, either.

Smooch. Smack.

The heat of her body against my skin begets a second peck, and a third. There's something right about the impressiveness of her immense organ, particularly when pressed against the opening of my mouth. Something about it that's so enjoyable, with how it feels against my flesh, leaving a kiss of its own in sticky oily form where my mouth touches upon the opening of her foreskin.

'Mhm.'

Schlep. Smooch.

Irina shivers as I grip her glans between my lips and tilt my head to the left, sliding my mouth down the side of her helmet while keeping it hooded and held in place. I flick my tongue against it, glazing my tastebuds with her dirtily delicious flavours, salty and slightly bitter, some distant hint of Mads present, dried onto her skin. The explosion of taste flutters my eyelids, wedges my heart thundering away in the back of my throat.

'Worshipful.' The exotic enchantress cups the back of my head as I run my lips against the side of her prick, tongue tasting the skin. 'It's your default stance, honey. In my presence, you're caught up in this–ugh–admiration for me. It's cute. It's sexy.'

Schlap. Mwah.

I make it halfway down her pole and then draw back slightly, flicking my gaze left to right and sizing up the sheer magnificence of her erection. To consider a penis beautiful is something that, once, I'd never have dreamed of, and yet Irina's is. Irina's is a thing of sculpted sensation, a natural wonder of the world. Intimidating, impressive, intense. Just like her, fittingly enough.

'You know how attractive I find you,' I say, sucking in a breath through my mouth, to avoid her musk. Not for dislike, but…out of caution. To not wholly lose myself. 'Your body is beautiful, despite the blackness of your heart.'

She laughs softly, moans sweetly, as I run my lips further down. Her delicious skin becomes steadily glazed in my spit, rewarding me in turn with her filthy flavour. But I stop as her pubes begin brushing ticklishly against my cheek, wary of what I want, and what following my heart will tell her. Wary, but past the point of no return.

'It's more than that, honey,' Irina says. 'That might help you sleep at night, but that's not urging you onwards in this act.' The way she strokes the back of my head, with this perversion of affection, corrupt and yet captivating, makes my loins ache. Makes my gutter mind race with deviancy. 'This dynamic of ours suits us both, doesn't it? Like as not our culture has you obsess over cock size and virility, of male power and dominance, but with me you can't be that paragon. You never will be, and I think it turns you on. In fact, I know it does.'

I shudder uncomfortably as she shifts her left foot, slipping free of its heel and bringing the tights-clad extremity up against my bulge. 'Look at this little thing, raring to go. Does it know that you'll have to milk it by hand, do you think? Or does it love that idea?'

Jesus Christ, I can't stop salivating. Can't stop throbbing away, all the more so for her foot's fiendish affection, sliding slowly back and forth against the shape of my shaft, toes twitching and curling upon my clothed tent.

Irina chuckles, continuing to drag her foot against me. 'With every word I say, your little warrior wobbles and strains, doesn't it? Or is it this body, so close to you, that's really getting you going?'

The temptation is growing disturbingly great, to go above and beyond. To turn and kiss her groin, to rub my face into those thick black hairs, and mark myself with her muskiness. For some part of me doesn't merely want to do this thing, but to relish in it. To worship her, just as she so desires to be worshipped.

'It's both,' I say, breathing in her sensual stink. 'It's both, and you know it.'

She laughs luridly, and taps her nails against my scalp. 'I do, don't I? So what's holding you back, Theo? What could possibly be worth delaying not only the inevitable, but the so desperately desirable?'

I want to speak, but I find myself turning on reflex. Ahead of the reason, the counter-argument, the rejection. Her curls brush against my lips, ticklish, teasing. Oil-black, dense and dirty, psychologically if not physically. Irina slips her hand behind my head, her light touch sending a shiver down my spine.

'Go on, honey. Make this proper. There's no reason to hold back. Not with me.'

All of it is too much, and I cave. I, Theodore Brackley, cave. What am I doing, after all, except delaying the inevitability of this deviant and delicious deed, this admiration for her potency and power, her dominance which oozes out of every syllable and gentle motion?

Mwah. Smooch.

Irina shivers faintly, and slowly strokes the back of my head. It doesn't bother me in the least, all of a sudden. As if all my mind was really waiting for was the opportunity to just surrender, to just allow the movements to occur and the transition between reluctance and reverence to dispel all possible concerns.

'Good boy,' Irina says, her hands electric against the back of my head. 'Get me all worked up and I'll feed you. It's good enough for Mads, and you know it's good enough for you.'

I keep hold of her cock with one hand and sink the other into a thigh, the plush fleshiness engulfing my fingers where her luscious bronze skin is warm and womanly against them. Her pubes, abundant and musky with her obvious potency, surround my mouth and swallow up my nose while my lips move between them, smooching away at the fantastic furriness.

'Mhm.'

Smack. Smooch.

It's dirty, divine, moreish. Something in her scent drives me forwards, something about the silken ticklishness of her curls teases at the psyche, tugs at something primal and powerful. Submit, submit, submit, and why fucking shouldn't I? I want this, as much as I fear it. And that fear only comes from wanting to submit, all the same. That fear that I am somehow less of a man, somehow a loser, in the presence of this entity of excessive eroticism that so readily surpasses myself.

For isn't that what I'm here to admit, in one way or another? In my glancing upwards, nose pressed into the mound at the base of her cock, face furred with her crotch hairs, I can only marvel at her delightful body. Irina Blackwell is beautiful, even if her insides are dark and dangerous. Even if her soul is black, I cannot restrain myself.

'This is how it's meant to be, Theo. Mhm.' She moans sweetly as I brush my lips from side to side, touching against the base of her member. 'You, on your knees, taking care of me. A mistress, and her pet. Mummy, and her boy. It's as simple as that. If you were a woman, like Mads, you'd crave the chance to my me children.' My spine arches from her words, her touch, as she slides her fingers against the back of my head. Each launches forth a coruscation of carnality, depraved and dirty. 'Instead, you crave the taste of my seed. To honour me as only a man can, in tasting the superior sperm of your better, your goddess.'

Every time in the past her ego tripping was despicable, driving me nuts. For her to go off on these grandiose fantasies was never short of obnoxious, and yet here it feels different. Here, it's like she's speaking to some vulgar partition of my psyche, which nods along with her words, smiling away. What if she's right, after all? What if she's always been right?

I can't think of a more frightening concept, nor a more arousing one.

But I don't speak, don't say anything. Mlep. Schlap. I tongue the bulky origins of her prodigious prick, enjoying the saltiness of her flesh and the muskiness of her hairs, the way her opulent organ throbs and strains beneath my tastebuds. The urge is too strong now, to simply get this over with. If I'm doing this, I'm doing it properly.

'Ooh.' Irina sighs salaciously as my lips press against the top of her left testicle, tongue promptly following to glaze the upper curve of the orchid in spit. 'You really want my genes, don't you? Do a good job, honey. I'll happily feed you every last wriggling white tadpole.'

The hunger such a proclamation stirs is not that of satiety, not of a nutritional form at least. Raw and perverse, it harkens to that beast in me, which acknowledges crude hierarchies and nonsensical notions that should have no place in this day and age, yet do. Feed, feed, feed. Taste, taste, taste. Sperm, sperm, sperm.

I wet my lips, and kiss her left bollock. 'I'll swallow every drop,' I say, breathy, mindless, ravenous. 'Feed me, Mummy. Feed me your pride.'

Irina chuckles, grates her nails into my scalp. 'I knew you wanted it, honey. God, it's so wonderful to hear you say it. Work for that load, Theo. Work for Mummy's milk.'

Schlep. Mwah. Slup.

It's impossible to fit the entirety of a ball so big as Irina's, as either of them, inside my mouth, but I manage to get a suction upon it and nurse on the sack, pleasing the orb within to the extent that it ripples and strains, doubtlessly working hard to produce an even greater quantity of seed than existed prior to this. For this is what I'm doing, after all. Telling her loins that I want their produce, regardless of whether the endpoint is to be a womb or a man's mouth.

'Mhm-hm. Mumph.'

'We don't have to–ugh–tell Mads that you're being this enthusiastic,' Irina says, the suggestion of secrecy invoking an illicitness. 'Just never go back to how it was, Theo. Acknowledge me as–aah–your superior, every single day, and I will never leave you wanting. Be my cocksucker, honey. Be Mummy's cumslut.'

Mwah. Slurp. Mlep.

I'm wrong, and yet I cannot go back. Cannot undo what I am here and now, this cretinous excuse of a man, some shadow of the person I once was. Irina has won, even if this is just the start. Irina has beaten me, even if I act with initial reticence next time.

One way or another, this is my truth. This feels right, and good, and true. As I press my face into the cleft between her colossal cum-makers, relishing the lustrousness of her sack and the weight of its contents, I can't picture a future where I am not like this. Where I can forget this, and pretend that I don't want to dedicate my lips and mouth and tongue to her risqué release.

Mummy's big beautiful bronze balls pulse and tremble against my skin, growing heavier in my imagination, or perhaps in reality. They're going to feed me. She is going to feed me. A big dose of the same genetic material that utterly painted Maddie's womb, that has put a baby in there or will do shortly. And fuck, it's all the more special for it. All the more profoundly perverse.

'Mhm.'

I can't hold back any longer. Leaving her balls slick with spit, it's time to do what I need to. To give Irina the treatment she so thoroughly deserves. To honour her like only a cock-hungry slut of a man can manage.

'Go on,' she says, giving the back of my head a pleasing pat as my tongue reaches the base of her member, just above the point where shaft becomes sack. 'Work for your reward, Theo. It's going to be a very big mouthful, it feels like. After your teasing earlier, and after this extra bout of loving.'

'Y-es, Mummy.'

Irina sniggers, and drags about her nails. 'It's going to be wonderful, seeing the look on your face each and every day as I pump sperm onto that tongue. You know that's what the future looks like, don't you? Leaving this room, day in and day out, with your breath smelling of my cum. With your belly swimming full of it.'

The prospect of receiving what is doubtless to be a tremendous quantity of her potent, healthy jism, should not provoke such salacious shivering. It shouldn't instil me with a profound desire to do whatever it takes to bring her to climax. But, of course, it does.

Mwah. Smooch.

'Mhm.'

It comes so naturally, to kiss at the underside of her shaft, to run my tongue back and forth, side to side across her cum vein. Irina quivers, her cock throbbing against my lips as I lift my head, gliding my mouth up her perfect penis. When I angle my head to the side, left and right, I make sure to meet her eyes and marvel at that gorgeous green gaze, that pair of gemstones in the enthralling duskiness of her face.

Irina Blackwell is getting what she wants. What she believes she deserves, and what I am powerless to deny her. My boss is exquisitely attractive, peerless in all the world, from all that I've seen. Whatever else she is, whatever cruelness exists in her soul, it's irrelevant here and now. Irrelevant, in large part, because I don't seem to care anymore.

I know I should. Sanely, fairly, I should. As my lips brush the base of her helmet, still shrouded in skin, the imminence of the illicitness is like an icicle sliding down the bones of my back. It should provoke fear, yet only stirs my cock all the fiercer into a throbbing lance between my legs. It's undeniable – I want nothing more than to see this thing through.

'I love how you taste,' I say, at last pulling my head back, mouth level with her prominent helmet. A hint of that lustrous purple peeks through the wrinkles of skin, glistening with precum. 'I've liked it for so long, but I…I just–'

'No more lying,' Irina says, casually brushing a lock of my fringe aside. 'You realise you could have been blowing me multiple times every day, Theo? Do you realise how silly it sounds, to deny yourself this thing you crave?'

'You know it's more complicated than that.'

The way she wets her lips, cocks her head to the side, provokes another twitch of my dick. Her beauty is unreasonable, her effortless sexiness like some slow-acting venom that only now is truly starting to corrode my innards.

'I know how wrong you think it is. Not because of what it is – we both know you don't care – but because it's me , honey.' She brushes my cheek with a curled finger, the nail some subtle threat before my eyes. 'You're so concerned about degrading yourself, lowering yourself, but you've got this all the wrong way round. You're worthy , Theo.'

'Worthy?'

Irina nods slowly. 'Of course, honey. You know the importance of semen, passingly, but it's always had something of a mythical status. In Catholicism, in Egyptian mythology, even in the teachings of Aristotle. Language itself has the word seminal , the root of ideas and yet, as well, denoting semen itself.'

As she speaks, my cheeks grow flusher. The more important she puts upon this final stage of the act, the more aroused I become. The dirtier it all feels, and yet, drastically more powerful. That this is so important to her, on the psychological level, transforms the already intimate into something practically religious. Some law of nature, and the world.

'We're animals, honey. Animals, you and I, and sexual creatures,' she continues. I follow her hand as it leaves my face, retreating to her throbbing rod ahead of me. 'Animals, who put such silly importance onto things.' Irina moves her hand to that of mine, holding her member steady. 'I do not share my seed casually, Theo. It's my essence, after all. My nature, distilled into an extremely intimate product.'

I suck in a breath, getting with it a whiff of her musky sensuality, as the Amazonian beauty firms up her grip on my hand and gently tugs, readily sliding back her foreskin and freeing the gargantuan gooey glans beneath it. Some build-up of precum splatters forth as the lustrous lump reveals itself, hitting my lips with warm stickiness. Instinctively I run my tongue across them, tasting saltiness, tanginess.

Irina chuckles. 'I am not degrading you, by feeding you my sperm. I am giving you the opportunity to taste someone superior to any you'll ever meet, and to appreciate my genes swimming about your mouth, to be absorbed into your body.' She releases my head, and calmly reclines into her big chair, leaving me staring at that cycloptic glory ahead of me. 'Begin when you're ready. I do enjoy you appreciating me with your eyes. It really is quite a beautiful penis, isn't it?'

Yes. Yes, it is. Unshrouded, with its huge helmet on display, Irina's cock is a thing of tantalising terror. So thick, and fat, and yes, beautiful . Its glans is thickly-crested, mighty and magnificent, glazed in slick shimmering gooiness. Its eyelet is broad, threatening, perfectly capable of widening enough to release dense healthy strings and ropes of her pride. My nostrils twitch beneath its perverse pungency, not recently washed and yet remarkably clean all the same, the natural odours of her body provoking salivation and subservience.

'You…you don't think I'm less of a man, for this? For wanting this?'

I manage, somehow, to meet her gaze. And find, surprisingly, no note of mockery or judgement. Affection, perhaps, pure and simple. Twisted, of course – for with Irina, nothing straight and decent can result – but affection nonetheless.

'Theo, how many men do I have in this room? How many have you seen come and go?'

'None?'

She wets her lips. 'Isn't that your answer?'

'But the others…they refused to submit.'

Irina chuckles. 'Is that how you see it? It's one way to view things.' Her grin is gorgeous, teeth white and straight, canines as sharp-looking as ever. 'I see it like this: those other men? They didn't know how lucky they were. But you tell me, Theodore Brackley. Are you lucky, to be able to gorge on the quality of a woman such as myself? To taste the same perfect genes that have put a baby in the womb of your lover?'

Whether on cue, or by accident, my gaze drops to her bell-end as it strains, twitches. A drooling strand of precum, glistening and enticing, hangs from beneath its broad and proud purple meatiness. On some low and perverse reflex I lean in close, and catch the dangling deliciousness on my tongue, and then – with just as much intuition – press my lips against the front of her crown.

Mwah.

And then, meeting her eyes again, I surrender. The heat of her helmet against my lips is sensually scorching, its flavours salty and oily, sticky and dirtily divine. It takes so little effort to slide my mouth around the first half of her generously gigantic glans, up to the point that its wide rear crest provokes a faint straining where her thickness is truly prodigious.

'Just as I thought,' Irina says, smirking salaciously. 'I don't have to make you do this ever again. I'm going to write it out of your contract, and yet still, you're going to do it for me. Whenever I want, and sometimes – best of all – even when I don't ask for it. Ooh.'

Schlup. Slurp.

She moans sweetly, victoriously, as I manage to just about get the entirety of her fat prominence past the opening of my mouth. It slides lushly onto the blade of my tongue and drags across it, oozing her perversely pleasant produce all the way. The hulking hugeness throbs wonderfully against my promptly sucked-in cheeks, against the roof of my mouth and my lips so carefully moved to shield her from my teeth.

Whether this is wrong or right, pathetic or profound, I don't have it in me to care anymore. Right now, all I want is to taste her sperm. To acknowledge her as the winner here, in whatever this carnal contest happens to be. To let swim around my mouth, and then my belly, the winning bloodline. To taste, and savour, and swallow what amounts to her success.

'Good boy. Ughn.' Mummy grunts, widening her knees slightly. She brings down a hand atop my head, roughly massaging my scalp beneath my hair. 'You're so special, honey. You're worthy of this. Deserving of the right to–mhm–be my cocksucker. To be an outlet for my heavy, healthy loads.'

Schlurp. Schlep.

'Mumph. Mhm.'

I moan with a mouthful of her manhood, completely under her sway, accepting this most filthy of fates. Somehow she makes my worthiness, my specialness, at once resplendent and repulsive. Fitting, given how much I know of Irina. That for her, the highest mark of quality in another human being is their willingness to act as an on-demand cumdump. Why I expected, even passingly, that she'd see me as something more, I have no idea.

But at the same time, I think I like it. Know that I do. Irina Blackwell is gorgeous, and wealthy, and intelligent, and dominant. Sexy beyond reckoning. Maddie is pretty, even beautiful, but compared to Irina? It's like they're of a different species.

It's like Irina is of a different species compared to all of us.

Schlap. Slurp. Schluck.

'Aahn. That's it, honey. Work for my sperm. Mhm.'

The feel of her helmet, that proud plump prominence which tops her tremendous titan, as it strains and swells at the inside of my mouth, is divine. It should be vulgar, that her body is effectively treating my mouth like a pussy, lubricating it with her precum, but it's so delicious. That it comes out of her, that her flesh made this taste, this substance…I like every detail of the act.

I need to hate her, but I don't need to hate this. I can do this, without completely losing myself. I'm going to have to. It'll be fine.

I can be both her cocksucker and despise her as a human being, right?

'Mhm-hm. Mumph.'

'Deeper,' Irina says, pushing on the back of my head. 'You can do it, honey. You're my slut now, aren't you? You're going to need to–ughn–get good at this. I own this mouth, Theo. It's mine. My property. Ugh.'

The weirdest thing, the scariest, is that when she pushes against the opening to my throat, my body doesn't protest. I've normally got a gag reflex, but now? In her presence, it seems to melt away. Irina doesn't quite control my movements, but the way she urges me, the way she guides me to take her fat-headed prick right towards the back of my mouth, instils me with some depraved desire to see this through.

Her words, ringing about my head, speak of ownership. Ownership, which provokes such crude convulsions in my cock, filling my mind with dirtiness. What if she's right? What if she does?

I mean, how far off being her property am I, at this point? I'm under her thrall, in her sway. Irina Blackwell holds the keys to my future, and can unlock either a trapdoor to hell or a lift to heaven. But fuck, why does it turn me on so much?!

Glugp. Schlep.

'Aah. Good boy. Mummy's good, dutiful cocksucker.'

The heat and hugeness of her presence, as it pushes into the tightness of my throat, provokes a fluttering of the eyes. A shiver down the spine, as if someone's dripped cold water along the ditch of my back. Her bulky bell-end kisses my tonsils and then slides beyond them, as at last the wicked woman asserts herself over my submissive, rapidly-succumbing self.

Glugp. Schlack. Glugp.

'Mumph. Mhaah.'

'That's it, honey. Your mouth is a cunt, and I'm going to–aahn–breed it. There's no higher honour, and you bloody know it.'

All of a sudden, she's got her other hand on my head, and all I can do is push my palms into the fat musculature of her thick thighs and accept this fate. The copulation of throat and phallus fills the room with sloppiness, with perverseness, and the first third of Irina's dick disappears into my face.

She watches me with those evil emeralds, some conqueror, some barbarian queen of old dressed in the warrior-garb of the capitalist. Her heat strains my throat, fills out my neck, its chunky crown bobbing back and forth behind my Adam's apple.

Schleck. Glugp. Schlup. Glugp.

Irina smiles, wider and wider by the passing second, as she pulls me deeper, closer towards her. I pass the halfway point, lips searing with strain, throat complaining, but still no overt gag reflex. It becomes harder and harder to meet her eyes, to do anything but stare in wonder at her hips and breasts and belly, clothed and yet obvious for her figure is simply so fantastic and familiar to me.

'Ooh. I'm so g-ood to you, Theo, aren't I? So fucking generous.'

She laughs, full of lust and mirth. I wish I could meet her gaze, but the best I can manage is a glance at that gorgeous grin, voluptuous lips hinting at pearly teeth. And even that promptly leaves my periphery as Irina urges me closer and closer towards the inevitability embodied by that jungle of oil-black pubes around the base of her sheer prodigiousness.

Glugp. Schlap. Glugp. Slurp.

'I don't just–ugh–pay you well, don't just treat you to dinners.' As the first hairs tickle my nose, another salacious shudder swims through me, making my dick ache and balls shift in their sack. 'I'm far nicer than just that, aren't I, honey? Ughn.'

She grunts loudly as at last, with one final push, she presses the ring of my sealed lips against the base of her prick, marking my face with her musky pubes. I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, adoring her odour, adoring this warmth and carnal comfort. All of a sudden, Irina grows gentle, playing with my hair, grip softening.

'I let you give me blowjobs, Theo. I let you ride my cock. I let you taste my semen. I let you serve me, as you're clearly meant to do. Has anything felt more natural, than doing what makes me happy? Has anything felt more genuine?'

She slides her hands off of my head, tickling with her fingernails right up until the last moment. Slowly but surely I retreat, not quite wanting to leave her lovely lance behind and yet being powerfully aware that she expects an answer, to this question.

And when I get back far enough that it's just her bell-end in my mouth, oozing away, Irina Blackwell looks utterly resplendent. So crisp and cool in her confidence that some part of me is convinced that yes, she is generous. That yes, it was generous to rape me, to blackmail me, to trap me. Because it was all, after all, part of some greater good. Part of being hers, belonging to her, being nothing more than her cocksucker cock-riding bitch-boy.

The fear is fucking palpable. I've never, ever felt that particular chain of thoughts in quite this fashion, quite so strongly. But worse, so much worse, is that…there is appeal, in them, as well. That now, this late in the day, fear isn't enough.

Schpup . Her helmet is so fat that it makes a wet sound, when I leave it behind with my lips. Instinctually I lick around my mouth, tasting her gooey glaze, inhaling in passing the marvellous musk of her member where her crotch, and balls, and her dick itself have left sensual scents upon my skin.

'Irina…'

'Don't do that. Just answer. From your heart. How does it really make you feel, honey?'

'Good,' I say, without thinking. 'It's confusing and it's strange and I know I should hate you, but I like this.' The words just spill out, reflexive, pulled from somewhere. 'I enjoy every moan you make. Every shiver that goes through you. I love how you taste, and smell, and–'

Irina puts a finger to my lips, quick as a bolt. 'Well then, what are you waiting for? See just how good it feels, honey, to taste me wholly of your own volition.' She smirks, cocks her head towards the door. 'You can leave, of course. Send Mads in, to finish this off. Or you can let me baptise that mouth, and reward you for your efforts. What will it be?'

Schlup. Slurp.

Her bell-end is inside my mouth in the blink of an eye, without any urging, without any effort on her part. Irina simply sighs in relief, relaxing into her chair. Her huge helmet, halfway inside my lips, is positioned perfectly so that I get the full experience of her first load of the day.

'Ooh. I thought so.' The baleful beauty gives my head a playful, almost mocking pat. 'You're never going to have Maddie's–ugh–womb, honey,' Irina says, her knees beginning to tremble. 'But you can still–aahn–feast on the sperm that claimed it!'

I'm not prepared for this one. I've swallowed so much of her, even just recently, but this is something else. Something special. Pure arousal? Delayed release from earlier? I can't say, but it makes my eyes go wide and Irina chuckle-groans as her helmet swells and spits.

The first shot is super thick, one long rope of gooiness that hits the back of my mouth, almost enters my throat. As it begins to sag down, not quite touching my tongue in time, a second, like a shotgun blast, coats my tastebuds.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

Irina laughs as I moan, completely in awe of her flavour. I've tasted it before, but…it really is different today. Salty, tangy, ever so creamy and profoundly rich. Hot, and fresh, and heavy. Utterly packed with the highest pedigree of sperm. A third rope, a fourth, and my tongue is entirely engulfed in her ejaculate. My mind races with the dirty image of a billion white tadpoles racing about on my tastebuds.

'Don't you dare–ugh–swallow until I tell you to,' she says, firmer than I'm used to. 'Remember that this same thing happened–mhm–just the other day, inside of Mads.' Irina sucks in a breath, tilts her head back, grinning ear to ear. 'I envy you, Theo. To have the luxury of–aahn–tasting sperm of my quality. Ughn.'

Schlup. Schlurp.

I keep sucking, and she keeps releasing. Fat ropes, thick bursts, dense strings. Reflexively I chew a little, as best I can with a mouthful of cock. Mixing the muck up, getting it caught in my teeth – as if it needed helping – ensuring that it meets every part of my mouth.

'Mhm-hm.'

'Of course, you like it. It's natural to–mhm–appreciate the semen of your owner.' She looks at me, so elegant and exceptional. It's no wonder she tastes so, so… delicious . The woman, for all of her cruelty, is peerless. A dickgirl dominatrix of Amazonian awesomeness. And her sperm, in the billions, are swimming about inside my mouth. 'You could've had this all to yourself, honey. Could've–ugh–been mine from the start, and Mads wouldn't be involved.' Irina shakes her head, rolls her emerald eyes. 'Still, you'll get plenty. Whenever you want, you come to me. I'm generous, like that.' She chuckles, almost giggles, high on the power, on the prestige of it. Somehow, with a mouthful of her baby batter, her arrogance is bizarrely attractive. 'Good cocksucker. Good cumslut. We're both right where we–ughn–belong.'

My eyelids flutter as she continues to release, completely loading my mouth. My cheeks swell, bringing with them the building worry that she might overflow, spilling out of my nose or the sides of my lips. Perhaps it's just that today's load is so sticky, so gooey and viscous. Perhaps I'm better at handling such excessive loads, all of a sudden.

Whatever the reason, I manage to receive the whole thing. Lips straining, cheeks packed, throat desperate to bob and swallow to relieve the tension. But Irina, regaining some composure, simply beholds me with utmost appreciation. Down on my knees, while she sits on that veritable throne, the imbalance of power has never been clearer.

'Chew,' she says. 'Savour. Taste. For the next…ten minutes. You don't have to show me – by the look on your face, I'm sure you'd spill some – but I do want you to let my sperm claim that mouth thoroughly.'

I just about manage to release her softening cock, the diligence of my suction leaving her glistening only with spit, no hint of cum remaining. But my attention, rather than on her godly genitals, remains fixed on her arresting stare.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

To churn the stuff, the thick nut-butter of the fearsome futanari, is no easy task. It really is so lacking for liquid today, an endless series of knots and strings. The flavour is, again, delicious . That her pride, that her genes – even though the stuff has a dirtiness to it, a carnal crudeness – can be so desirable on the tongue, all these sperm and all this salty-tangy rich creaminess rolling about, softening slightly with spit, is a grim testament to her victory.

On some terrible level, I'm glad that Mads went behind my back. If she hadn't, would Irina have won? And if she hadn't won, I wouldn't…wouldn't be doing this.

Even though, as I contemplate swallowing not to ease my burden but solely to accept her strong swimmers into my body, I realise that I love this. That I imagine I'll be back here later today. Every day.

'Ten minutes,' Irina says, all of a sudden. I didn't even notice the passage of time. 'Go on, Theo. Swallow, and you can leave. I'm sure we both have less pressing work to do.'

It takes several gulps, to rid myself of it. Warm pulses, sliding down the gullet, into the belly where surely the stuff belongs. The source is rotten in the mind, but her body…I can't deny what I like. What I want.

She doesn't even tell me to show her my emptied mouth, but I do nonetheless. Irina's eyes glisten with something, some particular shade of smugness, and then she begins sorting out her clothes.

'Remember that I'm not going to tell you when to do it. You're going to have to take initiative. Just like today.'

'Y-es, Mummy.' I nod, and stumblingly rise. 'I'll remember.'

The way she winks provokes a distinct leaking of my cock. Something Mads will have to take care of, back in our office.

'Good boy,' Mummy says, turning back to her desk. 'I knew you had it in you.' She chuckles. 'Well, you have it in you now .'

And as I walk away, somewhat in a trance, it's incredibly strange.

I don't regret what I've done.

Huh.

Chapter 9: Succumbing/Freefall

Summary:

Pending - I'll add this tomorrow, whoops!

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Succumbing/Freefall

Maddie blushes as I semi-stumble back into our office, my own cheeks doubtless far redder given the flush heat that still courses through them. I clumsily brush my cock twice, first on the doorframe and then on the side of my desk, in both instances drawing unwanted attention to the fact that I am stupendously and unreasonably hard right now.

Irina's load is omnipresent in my nose, impossible to fully escape. Every breath brings with it a tang of her potency, a reminder of what I just did. And given the way that Mads stealthily – though clearly not stealthily enough – wets her lips, the overwhelming stink of our boss's virility is obvious to more than just myself.

'Did it go well?' she says, watching me side-on. Fingers on keys, mostly front-facing, but she can't stop appreciating the subtle giveaways on my face. The signs that yes, it went very well.

I usually have this way with Mads, this means to speak to her as though she's my lesser, but recent events are little by little sinking in. Maddie is my…I don't know, anymore. What lust she has provoked in me, from time to time, is frustratingly faint right now. I should, by all rights, hate her very guts, but on some absolutely awful level I'm almost grateful that she's been such a slut when it comes to Irina.

The blowjob I just gave might well be the singularly most satisfying sexual experience of my entire life, and I didn't even get to cum.

'I'm…I need to get something,' I say, rising in a hurry. Again, my throbbing erection bangs against my desk, though I manage to prevent any further incident with the doorframe. Mads simply watches me go, a look of surprise on her face, concern accompanying it, but she doesn't manage anything in the way of words.

I make it halfway towards the lifts before realising that my car isn't here, so I make a detour to the executive toilets, the nicest and most private in the building. Each is practically a one-person bathroom, and after locking myself in one of the men's, I have a moment of peace. A moment of peace, and a mirror with which to consider myself.

Nothing about the man staring back at me conjures up the image of a lunatic in a straightjacket. Even as he smiles, as I find myself smiling, it's not the look of someone gone completely insane. If only, if only! Because no , there's a method to my madness. In wetting those smiling lips with my tongue, in tasting the salty tanginess of the semen that yet residually lingers around my entire oral area, I know that I don't want things to go back to how they were. Even if they can, which I'm not sure is a possibility now.

It's all such a thicket of tangling thorns, this entire situation. Oh, amidst the brambles there are fruits, the sweetest in all the world, but the maze is still a cage and the barbs still tear flesh. I know what is right, what is good, what I should do. To hell with it, burn it all, reject it all, but…the blowjob is all the proof I need.

Something about dropping to my knees and taking that awful woman's perfect penis inside my mouth, for the sole purpose of giving her tremendous pleasure, is impossibly ideal. To do it knowing that my only reward will be a heavy mouthful of her tangy and erotically flavourful genetic material, knowing that my only reward will be to accept her victory in the most primal way imaginable, makes me ache with shameful lust. To worship her for her bad behaviour, to worship her for breaking me as she has, to worship her for usurping control of my life and my future, comes so naturally to me.

But I'm not at all sad. Not anywhere close to crying. The blowjob, again, is all the proof I need. I can't make sense of these urges, this part of me that's so warped from what should be best and noblest, but I know that I don't want this business with my boss to stop.

I'm so twisted, in fact, that I can't even bring myself to be properly angry with Maddie. Oh, I should be. I should hate her guts, doing what she did, fucking cucking me. But…if she didn't do that, what would my future be? I lick my lips and still taste Irina, still taste the residue of her sperm , and I'm grotesquely grateful that Mads is who she is. That she did what she did.

Fuck, I am so, so wrong.

Before I know it, I've got my cock in my hand, masturbating over the sink. The thought in question? Maddie, pregnant, but the child isn't mine. I lick my lips again, go so far as to rub my belly, knowing that I'm full of the same genes. Knowing that I want – no, crave – a second helping. A third. Shit, why not just go to Irina and ask for a whole day of it, like we did before?

'Ugh. F-uck.'

In no time at all I'm bucking, spewing, done so quickly. It's just so hot, and I need the relief more than I need anything so grandiose and pointless as self-respect . My load comes out pathetic, compared to the futanari's. A shadow of Irina Blackwell's in terms of volume, stickiness, and overall virility. Shit, would it have even mattered if Mads was on her safest day? Irina is just so–

I stop my train of thoughts and tremble, eyes widening in terrible realisation. This, now, post-climax, with my cum draining away down the basin with the help of a constant rush of hot steaming water, should be practically asexual. Should be disgusted. Isn't that how it always goes?

But not now. Not this time. My dick might well have been drained of one load, but so what? It's more than my cock that is under Irina's sway. Way more than my cock. My mouth, for instance, is no place of pleasure – not in the true sexual sense, at least, and certainly not for me in that case – but it knows the dusky dickgirl's shape, knows her taste, knows all the right spots and the right angles of approach.

My arse is, admittedly, less used by my Amazonian boss, but it's no stranger nor enemy of hers. If anything, my cock should be the sole rebel, that part of me that practically never gets any attention from her, but…even having shot a load, it can't save me. Can't push away this deep-seated desire to go to Irina Blackwell and defile myself for her own satisfaction.

I wash my hands and clean up, and leave the bathroom facing the reality ahead of me. A lifetime of pleasure, but not on my terms. Degradation, humiliation, the twin debtors who I must pay respects to if I'm to get the most out of my existence. Or else…

No. It makes me smile, to realise that there isn't an alternative. I doubt it'll be all that long before I'm so twisted out of shape that I come to believe Irina's bullshit, to see the world through that lustful lens she so happily applies to it. If there's any foresight to be had, it's that this pattern persists: the longer this goes on, the easier it becomes to swallow. Metaphorically and otherwise. Given enough time, I'll look back on even these last failing fears with nothing more than a sperm-glazed smile.

Still, in my thoughtfulness, I don't notice a few key details which might spare me the initial stages of surprise. Irina's office, with its blinds up, and a full view of her desk. My office, its blinds all down. A faint drumbeat underfoot, a rhythmic rumbling that, were my head not in the clouds, I might recognise, or at least estimate.

'Ugh. That's my little–aah–broodmare slut.'

Schlick-schluck-thwap, schlick-schluck-thwup, schlick-schluck-thwap.

'Mhm. M-ummy!'

Testament to my warped mind, opening the door on the two of them might have only recently caused me to flee. The sight of Irina from the back, stripped down to only the white of her blouse, leaning over my desk and thrusting with intense force, is illicit enough without spotting Maddie's ankles locked together around our boss's waist and resting upon the top arches of those fat womanly hips.

That I instead step inside, shutting and locking the door behind me, is the undeniable proof of it. That the musky mixture of their sex smells thick and rich in the air makes me lick my lips, and that the constantly messy sounds of Mads's soaking snatch as the Amazonian futanari slams herself up to the hilt with every movement causes me to want to touch myself despite having just shot a load, is the end of things.

Schlick-schluck-thwap, schlick-schluck-thwup, schlick-schluck-thwap.

'Argh. Tight little blonde whore.'

'Mhm. Y-es, I'm your–aah–little blonde whore, Mummy.'

Shamefully, it's not my boss's big beautiful backside that captures the bulk of my initial interest, but rather her large and productive loins. Those big dark balls sag so low in their tight silken sack, swinging back and forth with every powerful piston movement of the dickgirl's hips, walloping against Maddie's butt where it hangs over the front edge of my desk.

Rarely, she'll pull out enough that I get a good look at the underside of her shaft, utterly slathered in the cream of the pretty blonde's coochie. Its cum vein is enormous, the whole veiny dark beast is magnificent to behold, more than a foot of thick futanari virility.

I…I can't compete with that, can I? As I watch the continuing coitus, the beautiful contrast of the fair-skinned woman and the dusky-fleshed futanari, those perfect pink lips sucking around Irina's erection as if milking from her the recipe for immortality, I know there's no contest between us. Perhaps know, on some level, that this is right , that this is proper , and that if anything I should be satisfied with being part of it.

'You can–ughn–help me along if you want, Theo honey,' Mummy says, making no effort to look back at me. Her long braid of scarlet shivers side to side down her back, ending just above the captivating colossus that is her callipygian rump. 'We're just making sure the pregnancy–uhf–takes. You know how it is, I'm sure.'

Making sure, of course. It stings a little, to take in the sight of Maddie's sopping wet pussy, drooling down the front of my desk.

Not because she's no longer mine, but because Irina's kinks play out differently between us. Mads has the benefit of being breedable , and so our dominant boss gets the added benefit of thinking herself – rightly so – some stallion mounting its mare. But the pussy is leagues more sensitive than the mouth, one being a bona fide sex organ while the other is…well, not such a thing.

But rather than put me off, the thought provokes another erection. Mummy's obsession with feeding me her dick, and in turn her milk , is all the more degrading with that realisation in mind. That at least if she was crazier about fucking my arse, I'd be getting genuine enjoyment out of it. Instead, it's very one-sided, as if to exemplify that she's better in this area of maleness than I, a true male, happen to be.

Schlick-schluck-thwap, schlick-schluck-thwup, schlick-schluck-thwap.

The sound of their rutting tickles me in all the right places, growing louder with every step I take towards them. Fact is, Irina's almost certainly got the right of it. Exposed as she is right now, in the heat of things, I could whip my cock out and mount her , for a change, but she doesn't even consider me a threat. Her pussy is right there , and she knows that I'm going to drop to my knees and suck on those fat and perfect testicles to ensure that yes, the pregnancy takes .

Shit, it's not even what she told me to do, and yet it's right where my mind goes.

'Ughn. Good girl. Keep those legs nice and tight around Mummy.'

'Aaah. I–mhmf–will. Ooh.'

It's a good thing the desk is sturdy, but Irina probably intended for that when she purchased it. It rattles against the floor with every thrust, the futanari delivering a tremendous amount of power with the swinging of her wide womanly hips. That body, perfect in every sense, seems all the more divine from this angle. I can't take my eyes away from her swinging nuts, her clenching buttocks and thighs. Fuck, I need to do this.

'Mummy,' I say, moving close, close enough to touch. Her rippling cheeks are glorious. 'I…'

The crossed wires, the need to talk and the craving to drop to my knees, clash and kill the sentence. It takes my boss turning back to me, looking imperious, looking almost like some Egyptian goddess with that characteristic style of mascara, green-eyed and red-haired and fiery of temperament, wearing the most dominantly delectable of smiles upon her full-lipped mouth, to restore some semblance of order.

'On your knees, honey. Suck on my nuts. They're always most responsive to you, Theo.'

I'm dropping before she turns away, in the process widening that smile. Dropping onto the carpet, down to the point that her heavy hangers are bouncing and swinging away before my face, wafting the sexual tang of their rutting into my eager nose. I can't stop licking my lips at the sight of them, forgetting all the surrounding details. Oh, her pussy is perfect, and Mads is gorgeous, and Irina's backside and thighs are so proud and plumply strong, but…the next best thing to having Mummy in my mouth is to get my mouth around Mummy.

Slurp, schlep, schlep, slurp.

'Mhmf. Mumph.'

I manage, somehow, to catch her left nut as it swings away from Mads. To catch it and get it halfway jammed into my mouth, gently held between my lips, where it pulsates away in need of attention. Fuck, it tastes good, glazed in sweat and splattered with the salty-sweetness of Maddie's productive pussy. I run my tongue across its swollen shape, adoring the way the skin moves at odds with the lump itself, held there within her sack.

'Ughn. Good boy,' Mummy says, slowing for a moment. 'God, Mads, darling, he's going to work up the motherlode of sperm for you.'

'Can I–mhm–see?'

'For–ugh–a moment, maybe.'

Irina is surprisingly flexible, for a woman with her curves. As I nurse away on her left testicle, sucking and slurping without a care in the world. Mummy lifts her leg on that side, managing to get her foot up on the desk. It takes far too long a moment for me to realise that, with the angle being what it is, and Mads herself possessing a suitable degree of versatility in her posture, the blue-eyed beauty is looking straight at me while I tend to our dominant dickgirl Mummy's potent loins.

The sight of those blonde curls knocked to the side, and the redness creeping across her pretty cheeks – not entirely down to me, given the nature of our compromising positions – might once have given me pause. Might, once, have caused me to reassess what I'm doing here beneath our boss, behind their momentarily halted copulation.

Slurp, schlup, slurp, schlep.

But it doesn't. Irina's lifted leg has brought her balls up at a slight angle, forced me to adjust my own posture to keep her left nut in my mouth, and so it's a given that Mads and I can get a look at one another. Two ends of the same sordid situation, each of us existing in a state of servitude for the sake of Irina Blackwell, tempting and terrible as she is.

'He looks so…hungry,' Maddie says, a pink hint of tongue urgently tasting her lips. 'Didn't you–mhm–already cum in his mouth?'

Mummy chuckles. 'I fed him a very big load, yes, but Theo's never satisfied. He loves the taste of my genes, honey. He can' – schluck-schlick – 'gulp down some of what I shoot into you, if he continues to behave himself.'

Irina thrusts and halts, and the powerful movements of her body strain my hold on her testicle and force me to sink my hands into the supportive plushness of her thick thighs. Her words, and Maddie's gaze, seem to infuse the dominant dickgirl's nuts with an even bolder, more delectable flavour of filthiness.

'Not…not too much.'

Irina promptly lowers her leg again, dipping me back into the relative gloom of sweet sticky humidity beneath her. 'Not too much, no. We are trying to start a family, after all.'

Schlick-schluck-schfwup, schlick-schluck-schfwap, schlick-schluck-schfwup.

'Ooh. Of c-ourse, Mummy. We can't forget what's–aahn–important!'

Mads moans and whines as Irina begins ploughing her again without a moment's pause, wasting no time. The pretty blonde's sounds tickle the lustiest, most pathetically horny parts of me, reminding me in no uncertain terms as to who owns her pussy, and with it, her womb. Degraded and twisted as I am beneath Irina's gorgeousness and glamour, however, what once would've caused great pain now merely makes my dick throb all the fiercer.

The dusky-skinned futanari, naturally, pays no heed to what's easiest for me to handle with the urgency of her impaling. Thankfully her balls are big enough, saggy enough from their massiveness, that I don't have to strain myself all too much to keep up with her. I lean in closer, of course, and the perverse perfume of their rutting further clouds my judgement with its pheromonal intensity.

Her right nut, swinging freely, barely connects with Maddie's coochie as it jiggles and sways with the forcefulness of fucking. It for the most part slaps back against my face, constantly sticky with juices, such a heavy and intimidatingly virile lump suggestive of a tremendous capacity to produce sperm.

'Mhmf. Mumph.'

I moan, down in my dirty little sanctum, out of their combined sight. A pet to one, a faux-master to the other, but the hierarchy here is all but clear. No matter what Mummy says about loving me the most, I can't give her what Mads can. She'll never bear my children, and now with that idea burning like wildfire through her mind, the path ahead is clear, and wholly contained between the young blonde's eagerly opened and waist-gripping legs.

'F-uck me, Mummy. Mhm. Br-eed me!'

'Ugh. I will, honey. I–ughf–will. Just you wait, you impatient little minx.'

Schlick-schluck-schfwup, schlick-schluck-schfwap, schlick-schluck-schfwup.

It might've already happened, but until we see that confirmation, every session is an attempt at impregnation. The driving of that perfect penis into that creamy coochie is going to be a daily deed, something I can ignore or…partake of, in my own submissive fashion.

Mwah, slurp, smooch, schlup, slurp.

And partake of it I shall. To release her bollock for a moment and kiss the inside of her thigh, to inhale deeply of their mixed fluids and bask in the sounds of mating fills me with no end of exultant eroticism. I let Mummy's nuts swing back and baste my face in their funk, in Maddie's juices, becoming something of a pastiche of genital muskiness that seems so natural, so right.

This…this is a good life, isn't it? Really, truly, it is. The thought sticks in my head, provokes a low and trembling smile, as I attempt to catch Irina's right testicle in my mouth as it swings between my face and Mads's butt, hitting one set of cheeks or another. It takes three goes, but when I manage it, snatching it out of the air into the appreciative gripping of my lips, I'm rewarded with a powerful tremble through Mummy's body that makes abundantly clear the fact that my presence, albeit not the main event, is nonetheless deeply appreciated.

'God, he's eager,' Irina says, the pleasure oozing from her sultry, slightly strained voice. 'He wants me to–aah–knock you up as much as you want it, honey.'

'Mhm. F-uck, yes.'

Schlick-schluck-schfwup, schlick-schluck-schfwap, schlick-schluck-schfwup.

Slurp, schlup, schlurp, slurp.

The orchestra of vulgar sounds grows thicker and richer, filling my office with a crudeness that seems fittingly out of place in a work environment. Familiar enough in Irina's office, but mine…even all those times I've fucked Mads, it's never been this raucous. The three-way tryst, the combination of the two women fucking and my servile self giving our Mummy oral worship, possesses a passion to it that me and Maddie could never produce by ourselves.

There's simply something primal, to be with the both of them. To lavish in the salty sweetness of their bodies, coupled in this way. To bask in this warmth, to be part of this degrading delight, to be emasculated by this tremendously virile beauty who has me beat, time and again, in the dirty little game we've shared.

'Mhmf. Mhm.'

It provokes a moan, as I continue to nurse on her right nut. A muffled sound, lost in the carnal chaos, but audible to me. An affirmation that this is what I want, too. That Irina's words, vile as they might be interpreted, are completely true. Her body is sculpted perfection and her male organs are divine, tools of some demigoddess, and I'm sure that even if I sate myself on the excessive spillage of the creampie on the horizon there'll be more than enough strong-swimming sperm to plaster Maddie's womb in Mummy's superior genes.

The way the dominant woman fucks, witnessed and experienced from this particular angle, suits Irina precisely. It's not clumsy, but not artful. She uses her cock like a weapon, without concern as to her pace or fierceness, doing only what she wants, what she thinks is best, what she enjoys the most. Fucking like her penis is a gift, and Mads would be mad not to accept it, however our Mummy deigns to give it to her.

We're just…just playthings, aren't we? Not partners, never partners, even if Irina seems to desire a kind of twisted exclusivity. If Maddie were a man, she wouldn't be here, for her submission – superb though it may be – is a shadow of mine. In so many ways, she's just a womb, a cunt, to be used and seeded. It doesn't give me satisfaction to recognise that fact, doesn't establish some pleasing sense of being the superior slave, but it's nonetheless a passing point of interest as my thoughts briefly overwhelm my senses.

Schluck-schlick-schfwup, schlick-schlick-schfwap, schlick-schluck-schfwup.

That sound, that veritable drumbeat of the depraved, becomes the dominant sound inside my thoughts. So arousing is the banquet for the senses – the smells, sounds, tastes, textures, temperatures – that it's easier, for a little while, to shut my eyes and lose myself in the purely sensory. The addition of the psychological, that awareness of my place in the world, only potentiates what is already a deeply unmanageable state of being.

So much simpler, to be a mouth, nursing on a testicle. To be a face, walloped by the coochie-juice-slathered sibling to that lurid lump. To be a set of ears, able to drink down the consistently carnal smashing together of bodies, two beautiful bodies, and all the slickness and meatiness that results. To be a nose, basking in the rich tangy sexual musk generated by our three-way tryst.

So much simpler, to be my senses than to be me. For to be me is to struggle with all this, to question and probe, to introduce all these silly notions like "self-respect," "shame," and "pride." The things that haunt me, outside of this room, outside of this hierarchy of filth, when I'm able to stare at the ceiling and consider my thoughts.

It pokes and prods, from time to time, that awfully alluring revelation. Pokes and prods through the sensory haze, from time to time. That demon of depravity which knows, knows far too well, that this is so much better when I acknowledge that I am more than my senses.

That if I acknowledge the reality of our dynamic, its complete annihilation of my self-respect, its absolute establishment of my perpetual shame, and its wholesale slaughter of my pride, those wonderful sensory states are not diminished but enflamed , set ablaze across the soul, imbued with an even grander state of significance.

Slurp, schlup, schlurp, slurp.

'Mhmf. Mumph. Mhm.'

It's there in the sounds I make, and not merely the necessary accidental ones, those of lips around a hefty lump. My muffled moans come, again and again, impossible to restrain. I can't lock them away, can't prevent their escape. They evade my best efforts to shackle them, adding to the coital chorus that fills all four walls of my office.

'Ugh. Such good things you both are, such good–aah–toys for Mummy,' Irina says. 'Such dutiful little sluts. Born for me. Made for me. Meant for me.'

There's a shift of shadow, catching my attention before her hand comes down atop my head. She keeps her fingers straight, palm flat, and pats my head as if I'm some hound, some loyal beast. It's gentle, affectionate even, and sends a ripple of knee-quaking ball-churning satisfaction down my spine. Some affirmation that this is where I belong, suggested by her, agreed upon by me. It takes me out of the sensory sanctum, of course, pushes me into the front-row seats of the filthy theatre going on upon my desk.

'Y-es, Mummy! I love being your slut! Aah. Ooh. Mhm.'

It gives me pause, and in the pause I lose the right bollock. Her movements are fierce enough, my surprise severe enough, that the mouth-and-pussy-dirtied orb swings freely again, bouncing wetly against my chin as I stare dumbfounded at the meeting of minge and member.

Irina…makes her so wet. Makes her gush. I've never been able to do that, not to Maddie, not to any woman. Yet Irina does it so easily, without the faintest degree of equality, of unconditional affection. Mads knows that this woman doesn't love her, will never love her as any woman – or man, for that matter – might wish to be loved. Oh, I've no doubt Irina thinks that she loves us. No doubt even that she does , in her own perverse, twisted, even somewhat evil way.

But we'll never have genuine, true, affectionate, equal, unconditional love here. To love Irina is to love God. That is, to live on your knees, in prayer, in worship. Her ego won't allow any other kind of relationship with her, because how could it? This isn't BDSM, this isn't a "scene," this is life . This is how she wants it to be. How she needs it to be.

And yet, despite that fact – that Maddie must understand, has hinted at understanding time and again – Mads is gushing her cute little coochie out to the point that without the promise of water afterwards, I'd think she'd die of dehydration. Her sticky yet flowing fluids run down the edge of my desk, the front of it, permanently staining the wood. It'll need to be replaced, as if that matters. This isn't about practicality or thoughtfulness, simply that Irina can do this, time and again, as often as she likes. It's almost like an attack on me, an insult to my masculinity, that here's this girl we both have access to and yet Irina will always, and forever, do a better job at fucking her.

I can't even make Mads gush so much from eating her out, and she's wet as the ocean during every moment of that. To…to do it with dick alone…it's absolutely absurd.

Schlick-schluck-schfwup, schlick-schluck-schfwap, schlick-schluck-schfwup.

'Aahn. Knock me u-p, knock m-e up, knock me up!'

Fuck, to hear her scream that, atop her lungs, makes my dick sore. It's terrifying how small the part of me is that now cries, "I wish that was me" has become, and how silent the rest of me is. How many would judge me, if they saw this? How many would think me pathetic? That primal fear of the male mind, to ensure that the offspring are yours, is frighteningly docile in the face of what can only be described as the purest and most exposed embodiment of its concerns.

Because Mads was, in some weird way, mine .

Mummy's enormously big balls swing freely, smacking against the bubble-roundness of her buttocks, rippling the flesh, and I'm completely forgotten about by both of them. Why doesn't this bother me more than it does? Why aren't I angry? Why, if anything, do I want to see it through? Why can I so easily picture the virile swarm of little white soldiers racing around those huge dusky-skinned nuts, ready to completely soak the younger woman's womb in genetic material?

'Ughn. It's coming, honey. Oh, God, it's definitely coming.'

Irina continues to thrust, to pump away, to plunge herself all the way up to the hilt inside the pretty blonde. Her efforts send flecks of juices everywhere, splattering even my face behind Mummy's thick thighs and monumental backside in the process. It's a perversely refreshing shower, a constant spray of something deeply and darkly illicit.

Schluck-schlick-schfwup, schlick-schlick-schfwap, schlick-schluck-schfwup.

Mads clearly isn't mine, anymore. Will never be again, even. She, and I – I'm not thick enough to believe otherwise – both belong to Irina. If I had any self-respect, any sense of shame, any remaining pride, I'd storm out of here and abandon them both to their sordid lusts. I'd accept this as some cruel slice of life, gone awry, and move on.

If I had any, that is, of any of those fabled and now-mythical things.

Instead, I stare at the large swinging lumps in that taut sack, flying through the air, back and forth, pummelling against the blonde's pert backside. I catch glimpses, from moment to moment, of the swollen cum vein on the underside of Mummy's prick, seeming more intimidating and meaningful than ever. I note every little twitch and contraction up the beautiful body of our boss, readily picturing the faint gritting of her teeth, the smug smirk that contains multitudes of ego within its perfect curves.

'Aah. Mhm. So b-ig.'

Maddie moans all the sweeter as her own climax sets in. One of many, most likely, but admittedly I've not been paying the utmost attention to her side of the sordidness. I chance a glance up and see her toes curling and uncurling, her ankle-led grip around our Amazonian boss's waist a fragile thing. All her strength is there, the flexing of her calf muscles above the callipygian perfection of Mummy's backside, but she's hanging on by a tenuous thread.

There's no distinct eruption, no especial spray of feminine fluids. That constant leaking doesn't change, though the persistent plunging of prick into pussy stirs the stuff up into some kind of dense sticky foam, white and creamy around her pretty pink lips, which themselves are utterly distinct from the dark and girthy pole which splits them wide open.

'Ugh. Fuck, you're such a breedable little whore.'

Irina's climax, however, is noticeable. All those little signs that acted as a premonition come together and become almost amplified, some much more so than others. Her balls, for instance, seem to contract in their sack, rising and slowly falling only to rise up again. Above me her cheeks clamp together, magnificent muscles on full show, at the same time tightening her thighs and making faintly rigid her overall gait.

I follow the throbbing protrusion of her cum vein to where it disappears, along with the bulk of her penis, inside of the tight-bodied blonde. Those lips suck down with ravenousness as the futanari bull's member strains at its surroundings, delivering a hefty dose of supremely virile spooge deep inside that fertile and hungering hole.

Schluck-schleck, schluck-schluck, schluck-schlick.

Irina pumps only irregularly now, her heavy balls swinging softly as she wrings her shaft out inside of Mads. Half-thrusts, ensuring that not a drop of her load is spilled, that every last sperm swims freely into that twenty-four-year-old coochie, desperate to get at her egg. Or perhaps I witnessed such last night, and this is merely an encore, irrelevant. Shit, for all I know they've been fucking with the intent to breed her long before they got me in on things.

I remain on my knees, a shadow of the man I once was, and yet…satisfied where that version of myself wasn't. This is dirty, depraved, but it's beautiful, as well. I can't help but see Irina Blackwell is this borderline peerless woman, this goddess among mortals, and in doing so find some degree of risqué rightness in considering that she's just laid claim, again, to what seems naturally and utterly hers.

'Mhm. So hot,' Mads says, shrill with joy. 'So fucking thick.'

It takes a moment before I get to experience my own end of that climax. Mummy's load is sufficiently massive that she readily fills up Maddie's coochie with her reproductive cream and then overloads it. The exterior coating of whiteness is nothing in terms of volume or density compared to what begins to leak out of those pretty pink lips, the futanari's semen drooling from between those firmly sucking folds and the sides and underside of her shaft initially, and then oozing forth from all surrounding angles as she thoroughly breeds the blonde bitch.

If the glazing of girl juices wasn't enough to irreparably stain my desk, the thick fuck milk of the dominant dickgirl has surely done the trick. It falls in ropey clumps, splattering the carpet in places but mostly drooling down the front of my desk, the darkness of the wood assaulted by a constant smattering of white.

Irina shivers, her whole body atremble with the forcefulness of orgasm. She produces little sound, content simply to bask in the erotic ecstasy, to churn out fat rivulet after heavy spurt of seed as she lightly plunges forwards and pulls back, milking herself utterly, draining her dick of every last drop of ejaculate.

'Ughf. You're such a good girl, Mads. Taking Mummy's load so well.'

Schluck-schleck, schluck-schluck, schluck-schlick.

I barely register her pulling out, because it happens so quickly. The dusky Amazonian is agile even when succumbing to such sensual pleasure, nothing having much of an ability to keep her from her lurid ends. She yanks herself backwards, unplugging that pretty pink hole, now thoroughly painted white, and Maddie's shuddering works to push out a healthy micro eruption of cream-thick jism.

All of a sudden Irina's got my hair in a knotted tangle in one of her hands, and she hastily twists herself about to present her penis to my face. The final burst of cum, held back by her intense force of will, sexual savant as she is, at last shoots forth as she smacks her sex-slathered helmet down against my left cheek and graces me with a sticky shot of spunk, then glides her glans over the bridge of my nose and deposits a second spurt on the other cheek.

Her fat dark purple helmet shudders and swells, lustrous and slippery, as she brings it up one last time to baptise me with a final squirt upon my forehead, all three pools of spooge loosely linked by the ropey stringiness of that sordid substance. The final dose lingers halfway out of her bell-end, slowly dripping down under gravity's burden, glistening in the overhead lights.

'Mhm. M-ummy.'

Mads moans to herself, quivering away atop the desk, while I manage to meet Irina's gorgeous green eyes. 'Your reward,' she says, as if my face alone asks the question. 'For tending to my balls like a good boy. You can clean up, if you like. My cock, her cunt. But don't be too thorough with Mads – we wouldn't want to risk our family, would we?'

I stare dumbfounded for a moment, completely in her thrall. She plays with my hair, roughly and dominantly, smirking to herself. Stunning, as ever, as always. Unfairly attractive, for one so brutish and twisted beneath, possessing of such intense feminine wiles.

Irina's cock throbs before my face, losing a little firmness from her orgasm. The opening in her helmet, that proud plump crown, drools the dregs of her load. My boss makes no effort to push me towards it, much as she could. Its potency tinges the air, lustful, thick. So familiar a smell, musky, pseudo-masculine, another of her contradictions.

I lick my lips on reflex, wanting what only she can give me. Wanting to obey, to…to make her happy. It makes me happy, somehow, even when it shouldn't. To put that rich smugness on her face, to gift her the glorious alignment of her egoistic fantasies and the reality of things.

'Good boy. Ugh.'

Schlup, slurp, schlup, schlep.

I've got her sex-slathered helmet between my lips within the span of a heartbeat, its flavours all the stronger for mingling with Maddie's. Irina's viscous jism comes out on my tongue with little coaxing, eager to spill free, to be drained from those final inches of her cum vein. It makes my eyes flutter, the intensity of it, this creamy tangy salty ropiness that I can't seem to get enough of despite having had the first and fattest load of the day pumped across my tongue so recently.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

It's impossible not to moan on reflex, perverse as I am. The mental image of her strong, healthy genes drooling across my tongue stiffens my cock, accelerates the racing drumbeat of my heart. It's more intimate than anything I can imagine, all the more so when this particular load can only be described as a breeder , its purpose made abundantly obvious by the sight of the pretty blonde resting back atop my desk with her pussy absolutely overflowing with the majority of the dominant dickgirl's release.

'Ooh. Dutiful little mouth you've got, honey,' Mummy says, tugging a little on my hair. 'I think I've got just the reward for you, but you'll have to clean up Maddie a little bit first.'

I pause my servile sucking, and meet those venomous green eyes, her helmet still softly pulsating halfway between my lips. Even without her voice, she could command me. That gaze alone seems to instil a powerful need to obey, to do whatever she wants. I could keep sucking, I'm sure, but those eyes hint at the possibility of something… greater .

'Not too much,' Mads says, her words sounding more distant than they should. 'But…eat up.'

To be caught up in this perverse pyramid of roles between them, now seemingly less in control even than Maddie, is a curious state to be in. No longer clear-cut, no longer possessing any kind of authority at all. Mads below Irina, and myself below Mads. Is that how it's going to be, going forwards? Is it just the game of the day?

Maddie's words linger in my ears like some misplaced command, not to be spoken by her lips. The wrong mouth says the right thing, and it leaves me far more aroused than it should. To submit to Irina Blackwell makes full and perfect sense, for her virility, for her stature, for her authoritative nature. But Maddie? Maddie the broodmare ? The twisted unexpectedness of the comment, however meekly spoken, causes my dick to ache.

'I…I'll do it,' I say, letting Irina's bell-end free. It comes away clean, glistening only with spit, though her shaft is messier. 'Let me, um, g-et that for you.'

Slurp, mlep, schlep, slurp.

The dusky-skinned Amazonian chuckles warmly, full of lustful majesty, as I put my tongue to good use. That combination of pussy cream and semen is a filthy feast upon my tastebuds, replaced stroke by eager stroke with nothing but the shimmering glaze of saliva. It goes down easily, thinner than the stuff that came straight out of her dick, though it naturally takes a deal more effort to do away with.

'Up you go,' Irina says, prodding at the back of my head, as if walking her long-nailed fingers against my scalp between my ears. 'Every little bit, now. That's a good boy.'

Mlep, schlap, schlep, slurp.

'Mhm.'

'He's so dirty,' Mads says, though she's not getting quite the same quality of view as Mummy. 'Can…can he fuck me after he cleans me up a bit, Mummy?'

Irina's smirk grows stronger. 'I think that'd work perfectly, honey. We'll have ourselves something especially fun.' Only now does she apply that hand with some degree of guidance, quickening my pace. 'The sooner you finish your duties, honey, the sooner you can join in on the main event.'

'Mhm-hm.'

I work that much faster, passing the halfway line of her shaft, having plenty to clean. It'd be quite the task even if she had simply gone halfway into the pretty blonde, but no, there are no half-measures for Irina Blackwell. I have to go all the way up to those curly red pubes surrounding the broad base of the beast, washing all of it with my tongue, going so far as to lap at the insides of her thighs where her rough rutting has splattered their combined juices.

The moment she's all but spotless, slick only with my saliva, Irina pats my head gently and seems to study her yet-trembling junk for any hint of residue beyond my eager saliva. 'Very good work, honey,' she says, wetting her lips. 'Let me help you with that mess on your face.'

She moves quickly, fingers deft despite their length and the sharpness of those nails. Mummy scoops up the stringy spooge from my forehead first and delivers it to my mouth, feeding me a slightly cooler dose of her salty tangy creaminess. 'Mhm.' I moan a little, instinctively chew and savour, while she collects up the next bit in the meantime.

'Such a good little cumslut.' My boss chuckles lustily as she gives me the next helping. Slurp. I suck her fingers hungrily, leaving no trace of her jism upon them. 'My, as good you are at your job, Theo, anything short of serving me is surely wasted on you.'

Her words tickle me, provoke a low and lustful shudder as I swirl her spunk around, tasting its familiar and yet always-intense flavours. Sticky, potent, perversely moreish. She gives me the last bit, my cheeks and forehead all but clean, but this time lets it dangle from her fingertips as if expecting me to actively surge up and snatch it.

Once, I'd have stuttered and shuddered, would've been unable to proceed, but it comes so naturally to press my hands into the plushness of her thighs and ravenously catch the last of the drool dregs.

Schlup, slurp.

'Mhmf.'

'Very good, honey. Very good.'

Irina pushes her fingers into my lips and flexes them about as my tongue cleans them, and it's almost disheartening to think that there's no more semen for me right now. A thought I don't have time to wrestle with in discomfort, because she almost immediately twists away from me, side-on towards Mads and the desk, and pushes me via the back of my head towards the waiting feast of viscous virility served in the prettiest and pinkest of pussies.

'Only a little bit now,' she says. 'Don't be greedy. And don't worry about whatever comes out of you when you fuck the tasty little minx, mine's always going to be stronger.'

My heart is thundering as I shuffle forwards, the movements initially ungainly from the force of her pushing. Even as I steady myself, I'm left somewhat shuddery, the rushing excitement leaving me less composed than I'd like to be for what awaits. It's hard to focus on the task of eating the creamy coochie ahead of me when, at the same time, my body is raring to fuck.

I manage to get my hands on Maddie's inner thighs, sinking my fingertips into the cushioning and faintly sticky warmth of her luscious legs. The blonde lifts her head enough to meet me with a smile, looking absolutely dumbstruck by the state of things. My presence, as it does with Irina herself, clearly enhances Mads's own enjoyment. It's weirdly satisfying, to think I can have so powerful an effect on the both of them, even if my purpose here is ultimately to submit, to serve, to obey.

'Eat up, Theo,' Maddie says, teeth on the verge of chewing her lower lip. 'I want to–mhm–feel your mouth down there. Cleaning me up a bit.'

The overwhelming sensuality oozing from her cum-filled snatch provokes lurid salivation, leaves me craving cock and cunt both. As I dip forwards Mummy gentle comes up behind me, applying a hand to the back of my head, aiding me along.

'There you go, honey. That's my good, obedient boy.'

Irina tickles the back of my scalp with her long nails, keeping a loose hold of me as I press my lips to the marvellous mess between the pretty blonde's spread thighs. I suck in naughty breath after naughty breath, intoxicated by their potent perversion, wetting my lips in anticipation of that final and phenomenal moment of contact.

Mwah, smooch, schlep, slurp.

The first two kisses are utterly filthy things, my mouth rewarded for its affection with a carnal coating of stickiness and nostril-widening potency. There's so much jism that it's all but impossible to actually make contact with Mads's pussy lips beneath the muck, at least at the point that needs the most cleaning. Her pretty pink pearl is above the sea of leaking ejaculate, the twitching uppermost region of her lovely lower lips promptly descending into a banquet of baby-making thickness.

I begin around there, just below her clit, planting another kiss that leads to a mouthful of Irina's cum. The stuff is warmer than that which I sucked out from her dick and greatly so compared to that which she scoop off my face, kept hot by the heat of the blonde slut's womanhood. It sticks to my lips, coats my tongue, forms gooey strings between my teeth and the tops and bottom of my mouth, but I hungrily suck it up and savour every moment of its tantalising taste.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

It's degrading and divine, to be doing this. Maddie's thighs shiver against my touch, and our boss strokes the back of my head, playing with me, treating me as the plaything I feel like. I swish my tongue left and right, scooping up spooge with my efforts, swallowing it after a few moments of swishing about behind my lips.

Mummy chuckles softly, charmingly, and prods at the back of my neck. 'Such a lucky boy you are, honey. Ever so lucky. Aren't I just the perfect boss? Aren't I ever so nice to you, letting you enjoy yourself like this?'

She can't see my eyes, and the wetness to them. Not for sadness, but for the intensity of feeling. The makings of tears, a result of how overwhelmed I am right now. I can just about meet Maddie's blue gaze when she makes an effort to look at me, but for the most part she's happy to relax back against the desktop and tremble, shiver, anticipating the moment when my tongue pierces through the coating of cream and comes into contact with her well-fucked and doubtless super-sensitive coochie.

Slup, schleck, schlup, smooch.

'So dirty,' Irina says, stroking the back of my head. 'To think how bold and resilient you were, not so long ago. Refusing me, certain that you'd succeed in rejecting me. This is better, isn't it? This is so much more fun.'

Vulgar as her commentary is, intended to tease and torment, it only quickens my pace. Irina's virile thickness so readily comes away from the outer folds of the younger woman's pussy, first glazing my lips and then filling my mouth. Its flavour is eruptive, salty, tangy, the sweeter aspects of the blonde's body completely lost beneath the dick-released dominance of the Amazonian futanari.

I'd stop and stare in amazement, if only I had that kind of self-control. That she shot so much, that she was so desperate to breed Mads, is a cock-aching feat. Another reminder that, no matter my feelings to the contrary, the dominant dickgirl is a practically superhuman specimen.

Such dirtiness it reveals in me, that my head immediately goes to such filthily fantastic places as to imagine the legion of sperm cells swimming through the gooiness. It makes the whole act so much more visceral, to associate the warm stickiness that rolls down my throat with the beautiful body of my dusky-skinned boss. To be tasting her in the most intimate sense, to be submitting to her in the most total of ways, to be absorbing into my body this sexual substance that I cannot produce anything like an equal of.

'Aahn! That's the spot.'

Slurp, schlup, slurp-schleck, slurp.

My tastebuds must punch through the coating of cum, though I barely notice the velvet fire of the pretty blonde's pussy lips. It's not a huge change, silky squishiness leading to more of the same, for even the delicate folds of her cunt shift about beneath the questing motions of my seed-seeking tongue.

Mads strains and quakes and her momentary contractions, some potentiation of the after-effects of her climax, force out a sizeable splatter of fresh, coochie-claimed semen. It comes out with just enough momentum, and at such an angle relative to my hungrily positioned body, that the mixture of womanly fluids and thick futanari spooge splashes out at my collar and slimily stains the front of my shirt. Not, of course, that it causes me to stop.

'Such a good boy. You really were born for this, honey. To clean up the heavy messes I'm so often going to leave inside Maddie's holes.' She chuckles, carnal and cruel. 'Born to consume my sperm, more to the point.'

Her words produce only an enflamed sense of attraction towards this whole sordid scene. They quicken my pace, that horny hunger unrelenting in its capacity to drive me onwards, to gulp down tongueful after tongueful of Irina's moreish spooge. Moment by moment, I make clean the exterior of the cute coochie ahead of me. Moment by moment what was caked in white becomes instead glistening with a thin veneer of spit.

I don't have it in me, lost in the haze, to pause and consider my work. It's enough to note that the opening itself, all but hidden between those pretty pink lips, is still completely packed with jism. It's so dense there, barely seeming to leak or shift, practically a plug of opaque whiteness sitting snugly in her fertile hole.

Slurp-schlup, schleck, schlick, slurp.

I work around that creamy sanctum. More and more, my efforts induce spasms through Maddie's body, her lower lips tightening and loosening – yet greedily holding onto as much of Irina's load as they can – while her spread legs quiver and quake. Even with the potent taste of dick milk reduced in volume, where my tongue retreads washed areas, it's still difficult to catch a hint of anything except the salty tangy dominance of our boss's exceptional virility.

'Just a little more, now,' Irina says, tickling me behind an ear. 'I'm sure a teaspoon of me will do the job nicely, but we don't want to tempt fate, do we?'

Mads gently shakes her head, eyelids a flutter, blonde curls shivering about her reddened face. As if the question was directed at her, because her orgasm-addled brain likely doesn't consider me to be anything more than a dutiful tongue keeping her pussy happily tended to. A state of being that, horny as I am, depraved as I've become, I don't for a moment find bothersome.

'Mhm. Mhmf.'

I inch the tip of my tongue that much closer to the ultimate prize, that congealed cum that's not meant for me. Across the outer lips, dipping into the inner ones, still tasting only Mummy's magnificence, making clear that even Maddie is, in truth, little more than a cocksleeve here. Both of us united in that aspect, made one by our relative roles in tending to our boss's sexual needs.

It's an abstraction, this whole act, on my end. It's not really about Mads. If anything, perhaps, we each fail to see one another, only seeing Irina Blackwell. I'm doing this for her, after all. And Maddie, as per her shaking of the head, is of the same mind. Two wretched little perverts reduced to caricatures of who they used to be, each once certain that it would be impossible to fall for the wiles of the futanari, and each nonetheless having succumbed.

'There.' Mummy jabs at the top of my shoulders, at the bones at the base of my neck. 'All nice and ready. Any more, and it won't be quite so fun. Up you come, honey. I give you permission to use Maddie's tight little pussy. Though it might feel just a little less tight than you're used to, going in right after I've had my way with it.'

My legs are shaky as I attempt to stand, not helped by the coaxing curling-uncurling of Irina's finger against my neck. Strange, to do this. Strange, that even as I get to my feet, cock throbbing behind my trousers, raring to go, my head is tilted towards pleasing Mummy and completely disinterested in the possibility of enjoying myself.

Maddie looks at me through faintly misted eyes, happy as can be, almost certainly on some level considering the same depraved thoughts I am. The same realisation, perhaps, that we're simply two sides of the same coin, doing this thing not for ourselves but for the woman who broke us? I don't have it in me to ask. Barely have it in me to speak.

'Let me get that for you,' Mummy says, coming up behind me. Her chest presses against the back of my head, engulfing my neck and the tops of my shoulders. She reaches around my waist with both hands, bringing her long fingers together at the buckle of my belt, moving with treacle slowness. 'Such a cute sight. Did I do this to you?'

Irina gently taps at the shape in my trousers, a perfectly decent cock in any other circumstances. I doubt anyone else in the world is quite so monstrously endowed as my boss, after all.

It provokes the most intense manner of tremor through me, as she brings that pointed nail down time and again upon the tent in my slacks. Rubs gently up and down the length of it, ticklish and teasing, bringing emphasis to what can only be some devilish comparison between myself and her.

'How does it feel to be so much smaller than I am?' Irina practically whispers it, lips low against my scalp. She effortlessly unbuckles my belt, pops the button at the top of my trousers, begins unzipping my fly. 'You know as well as I do who rules who, here. Don't you, honey?'

Mwah.

Her kiss is like lightning, cascading outwards from the point of contact. My dick strains in my trousers, against my boxers, and the rush of the room's air against my bare flesh as Mummy pulls me free provokes a momentary weakness of the knees. She brushes the backs of her nails against my pole, causing it to strain and swell against even so unaffectionate an approach.

'Will I even f-eel it?' Maddie says. Her words are like ice, dripping down my back.

She's never, ever, made such a comment before. There's a passing evil in her eyes, and I know her well enough to realise that she's not being at all genuine, but it's nonetheless incredibly painful. And yet…

It turns me on.

'I…'

'Get it in her,' Mummy says, lifting her hips, slowly grinding against me. Her cock is hard again, throbbing powerfully, any refractory period an irrelevance in the world of such a fearsome futanari. 'You don't have to worry about such silly things. Your role is to make me happy, honey. And that, right now, means getting your cute cock inside of her naughty little hole.'

My dominant boss softly leans into me, her breasts so heavy and hot, her dick running up beneath my shirt, along the dip of my spine. Its helmet is huge, plump, at once spongy and solid, and drools constantly despite having so recently shot such a profoundly productive load. This…is this really going where I think it is?

'Y-es, Mummy. I…I will.'

The words come out so meek, but not for fear or shame. I squeeze Maddie's thighs, push my fingers into the feminine curve of them, relishing the plushness. Trying to ground myself, because unless I'm being toyed with, we're going back to basics. Well. Basics, and being inside of that cum-filled coochie.

I move a little myself, inching forwards, pushing the tip of my dick towards Mads. Towards that opening between her thighs, all but clean now, glistening a little. Puffy outer lips and silky pink inner ones, and then at the core of the pretty vulva is that plug of premium-grade semen. Some mad, pathetic, perverse part of myself considers the opportunity something of an honour, to baste my own penis in the product of a far superior one. That ever-weaker shard of self-respect protests, naturally, but it's so mewling a voice that it has no power now.

'Ugh.'

It's impossible not to moan softly, as my helmet brushes against the top of her cunt. Velvet squishiness, stickiness, and the allure of anticipation itself. I tilt my hips a little, angling my cock towards the creamy hole, and fight back the intense urge to hesitate. To hesitate only to lose myself in the possibility of pleasure, and not the actuality of it.

Schluck-schgluck, schlick-schgluck.

But I somehow manage to persevere, to push my bell-end into that plug of jism. It practically sheathes my cock with its thickness, coating the tip and then the length which follows as the combination of my own thrusting and Mummy's presence drives me into the pink-and-white paradise.

'Ughf. Fuck.'

Some of the load squirts out, though it's so gooey that it's closer to a dribble than an actual expulsion. At the culmination of my second thrust I end up completely hilted inside of Mads, and somehow the relative lack of tightness is more enjoyable than my past encounters with her squeezing love-hole have ever been.

Before I can even register myself doing it I've got my hands on her hips, and it comes so naturally to thrust with reckless abandon into the spooge-stuffed coochie that's at once familiar and foreign. Stretched, by Irina's fat dick. A completely new experience as a result, and ever so easy to enjoy, all the more so for the way I churn up that thick creamy gunk and completely slather my length with the stuff, effortless, easy. It rides up my inches all the way to the base, smearing me in seed that's not my own, adding some dirty distinction between the sensitive skin of my cock and the velvet fire of her the blonde's pussy.

'Good boy,' Mummy says, sounding slightly more distant behind me. 'You enjoy yourself, honey. Just like that. Just how you want to.'

Schlick-schgluck, schluck-schgleck, schlurck-schgluck.

'Mhmf. Mhm.'

'Ughn. Guh.'

Even Maddie moans, though I'm not sure it's entirely due to my presence. The sound of penetration is sloppier than I've ever heard it, absolutely vulgar, messy as can be. A cock, stirring its way through such a sea of semen, working into and out of a hole that would otherwise be tight. Sloppy on the ear, raucous as it echoes back from the walls, gooey and glorious and profoundly dirty.

The sound of frantic mating, completely pointless. There's so much spooge inside of Mads, and it's so much thicker than anything I could ever produce. The product of an Amazonian futanari, a borderline-superhuman goddess in mortal form. Irina, cruel and cunning yet ever so beautiful, ever so perfect.

Even in this, I'm acting for Mummy. Even in this state of being, that should be nothing less than joyous for me, I'm thinking about her. Maddie's face, cheeks flush and eyes shut as she rests back against the desk, feigning disinterest – her smirk, her twitching eyelids, giving away the game – is completely irrelevant to me. All those times I've looked upon it with importance, but not today. Right now, all I want is a mirror, to look at the woman behind me. To make sure that I'm doing a good job, and–

'Argh!'

My back becomes a stiffened curve, the entirety of my body feeling petrified as if I've somehow looked into the eyes of a gorgon. All from a single moment of contact, all from the pressing of a particularly proud organ against my butt cheeks. Not even the hole itself!

'Let it happen,' Mummy says, taking hold of my hips from behind. 'This is a reward, remember? For being such a good boy.'

She acts with a gentleness Maddie didn't get, in slowly pushing her bell-end into my crack. I do my best to maintain my thrusts but the paralysis is near-total, her intruding cock dominating me with complete and magnificent effortlessness.

Mads glances up at me, examines my face, and her blush deepens. She glances to the right, a little upwards, doubtless at the face of our Mummy. Were I not so aroused, were I not so broken of mind and tense of body, I might grin at the faint dejection in the blonde's face. That she, for all her cheekiness of comment, now finds herself in the position I was not long before. Comparing herself to me, as I did to her. Comparing, as well, Irina's appetites for each of us.

I wince as Irina presses into me, the largeness of her massive cockhead all the more intimidating for the fact that I am, by all accounts, without lube. We're relying now solely on the juices that coat the futanari's dick, relying on my spit and that which oozes out of its proudly opulent tip in such quantities. Relying, as well, on my own experience with this side of things. Or in a sense, lack thereof , given how much time she spends in my mouth as opposed to my arse.

'Ughn. Mummy.'

'Aahn. So tight. If you keep up your current rate of sluttiness, honey, Mummy will have to treat this naughty little hole much more often.'

Irina runs her hands from my hips up beneath my shirt, stroking the sides of my body as she continues to steadily push into me. Paralysed as I am by the discomfort and the delight, Maddie is left with me throbbing away in her cum-filled coochie, but where I'd expected to find boredom to fit her prior comment I instead find her chewing on her bottom lip and staring at the woman behind me, the woman who owns the both of us.

'F-uck,' the blonde says, bringing a curled finger to her lips. 'This is so hot.'

Mummy chuckles, warm and wicked. 'You're telling me, honey. Mhm.'

The dominant dickgirl seizes the sides of my chest and tightens up her hips, fingers faintly pressing into my skin, my ribs. Her mammoth helmet finally slips between my buns, passes my sphincter, and leaves me gritting my teeth so hard I'm passingly wary that they'll shatter.

Schplup-plup, schplup-plup, schplup-plup.

She begins, without a moment's delay, the process of fucking my raw arsehole.

'Oh, God,' I say, grunting, moaning, head dipping forwards. 'Ugh. F-uck. Fuck.'

The reverse sensation of tightness is worlds beyond anything Mads can offer me, even at her best. It's as if someone has inserted a log of throbbing power into my most sensitive hole, filling all dimensions of that dark and dirty place with something that knows its way around without needing to stop for even a moment to catch its bearings.

Mummy's massive bell-end leads the charge, bringing behind it inch after inch of prostate-pleasing perfection. The lurid sound of flesh slapping on flesh, the parting and closing of my butt cheeks, and the quickening of Irina's breathing close behind me, altogether leave my knees shuddering and my world a marvellous mess.

'Keep sucking my cock,' she says, breathy and brutal, 'and I'll do this sometimes. Keep worshipping me, you–ughn–sexy little slut, and I'll show my appreciation.' Mwah . She kisses the top of my head, leaning close, practically hugging our bodies together – all but our hips, which she angles backwards, reducing the distance with every forceful thrust. 'You've got a real cock inside you, honey. A real cock, that's going to shoot real sperm into this dick-worshipping body of yours. So long as you keep dropping to your knees and praying to me, your goddess, then I'll be happy to let you pretend to be Mads, from time to time!'

Schplup-plup-thwap, schplup-plup-thwup, schplup-plup-thwap.

She ploughs me, rails me, without a moment's restraint or reluctance. All that initial gentleness is gone, thrown to the wind, replaced by an excessiveness that pairs so perversely with the raw dimensions of her endowment. A cock so big that it could barely move and yet hit all the right spots, and yet Mummy uses it in such a fashion that those sensitive spots are completely and utterly battered with inch after swollen inch of titanic throbbing tremendousness.

'Ughn. Guh.'

'Harder, Mummy,' Mads says. 'Fuck him harder!'

God, it's a good thing Irina doesn't seem to be listening to her. The way it stands, I'm forced to dig my fingers into the blonde's thighs – much to her apparent glee – for any chance of remaining upright. Or at least, upright without being impaled upon the futanari's fat cock as if I were the meat on a kebab held aloft.

The constant smacking of Mummy's hips against my backside rings out through my office, and the grinding grunt of the poor desk as it struggles not to collapse beneath our collective momentum is louder than ever. Bit by bit, I find myself thrusting into Maddie again, but not for any effort on my part. In some profoundly perverse sense I'm reduced to something like a dildo, pushed forwards and pulled back only in accordance with Mummy's swinging hips.

Schlick-schgluck-thwup, schluck-schgleck-thwap, schlurck-schgluck-thwup.

Schplup-plup-thwap, schplup-plup-thwup, schplup-plup-thwap.

I'm balls-deep in the blonde now, nuts smashing against the molten majesty of her creamy cunt. Irina clearly doesn't care all that much at this stage, given how forceful her thrusting is, and how much of her semen spurts out of Maddie's pussy with every moment that passes.

'Good boy,' Irina says, a lilt of laughter colouring her lustful words. 'Take that dick. Cum all you like. Succumb to–mhm–your better.'

As is so often the case, it's harder than ever to deny that aspect of her, here and now. I grit my teeth and purse my lips and fight, tooth and nail, to hold on…but my insides are a whirlwind of overstimulation. Before long, I'm going to be erupting, and I might as well be doing so in open air. So unimportant to my pleasure, right now, is Maddie's body.

All my brain can register, in this state of utter filth, is that I'm some pincushion for cock. Some hole, to be used, to be moulded to the shape of my big-dicked boss. Nothing else makes sense, nothing else matters. How could it, after all? All that she says, all of those mean-spirited pronouncements as to my inferiority…so many parts of me want them to be true. Demand that they be true.

So long as I am weaker than her, lesser than her, I can enjoy this. Can be part of this. Wrong as it is, nowhere, nobody, offers me more sexual satisfaction than Irina-fucking-Blackwell.

Schlick-schgluck-thwup, schluck-schgleck-thwap, schlurck-schgluck-thwup.

Schplup-plup-thwap, schplup-plup-thwup, schplup-plup-thwap.

'Ugh. Argh.'

It's too much. All too much. The combination of the abject dirtiness seething across my thoughts, and the profoundly pleasurable power of Mummy's thrusting. Her dick, so huge, so fat, fills me out without gaps, without any hint of relenting. She's mounting me, riding me, asserting our relative places in this world.

The climax that surges up from the depths, swirls through my shaft, explodes into Maddie's insides, is a thing of unequalled force. It's been so long, since I've felt this. Far too long. Not even a drip-feed, but a complete denial, only for her to unleash this upon me.

It forces my eyes shut, has my balls ripple as they pump out every last one of my little white soldiers. Pump out my sperm, right into Mads, and to what end? She's already full to bursting with the dominant dickgirl's jism, already pregnant no doubt. Some paltry offering, to make mockery of myself, and to think in such a way has me clench tighter, has my back arch, has the world become a writhing cataclysm of lustfulness.

'Good boy,' Irina says. 'Good, slutty, sexy boy.'

Schplup-plup-thwap, schplup-plup-thwup, schplup-plup-thwap.

She fondles my chest, continues to fuck me, but holds me all but hilted inside of Maddie. The blonde looks completely taken with things, aswirl with lust. I'm not going to be able to make her cum – a key part of this has been, clearly, to highlight my deficiencies compared to Irina – but it doesn't seem like she cares anymore. The glee of witnessing my collapse, my capitulation, is more than enough. An orgasm for the mind, if not the body.

Because that's what this is, isn't it? More and more, she's corrupted me, twisted me out of shape. More and more, my brain ceases to work with anything akin to pride, to self-respect. These thoughts constantly slip in, always have the final word.

I'm not as good as she is. 'Ughn.' Even just thinking it, I groan. I'm not as good as Irina Blackwell, and…and I never will be. 'Guh.'

Where's that self-loving voice, now? That voice of rebellion? Drowned. Drowned in the better sperm of a better cock and a better animal. I can't bring myself to open my eyes, to look at Maddie, to look at the world. All that matters is Mummy, pumping away into me, her huge testicles slapping against my smaller ones, her massive manhood some imperial thing, laying claim to its lands in the most primal fashion.

Schplup-plup-thwap, schplup-plup-thwup, schplup-plup-thwap.

It rings in my ears, all that sordidness. A song of the most salacious breed, rich and sonorous, so welcome. Accompanied by the fire of her penis, the heaviness of her balls, the constant weight of her body pressing down against my own. The orgasm transcends anything that my dick alone could give me, seems to flow outward from my rear and engulf the entirety of existence in the most exultant flavour of ecstasy.

I buckle forwards, hands slipping from Maddie's thighs, finding firmer support on the desktop. At last I manage to look at the blonde, but she's looking past me, as if I'm not even here. Irina continues to thrust, ramming away, paying no notice to the fact that I've crumbled beneath the force of her fucking.

'Take that cock, you sexy little slut,' she says, drawing her hands back to my hips, gripping tightly. 'Ugh. Little bitch-boy. My perfect little pet.'

I'm not sure where one climax begins, and another ends. My hands slip and shudder as they grip at the table, the wood solid but my strength thoroughly fucked out of me. I'm practically drooling, all of my senses ruined in favour of that tactile awareness between my buttocks, that overwhelming opulence resulting from the untameable vigour of the virile dickgirl's unrelenting skewering of my sensitive sphincter.

'Fuck him, Mummy,' Mads says. 'Destroy his arse.'

It's the most she does to register my presence. I glance at her, and she smiles, warmer than before, caught up in the lust of the act. Perfectly happy with, and completely unfazed by, the fact that I'm constantly cumming inside of her. She must feel it, but has this perfect poker-face, all genuine interest diverted to the futanari, side-stepping me completely.

Schplup-plup-thwap, schplup-plup-thwup, schplup-plup-thwap.

'I will, honey,' Irina says. 'Ughn. I will. He's a lucky, lucky boy. Aren't you, Theo?'

'Y-es,' I manage to say, practically spitting the word. 'Y-es, Mummy. Argh.'

It amazes me, to no end, that she's able to keep this up. I've cum at least twice, maybe even three times, but Irina? Irina keeps going. Her stamina is fearsome, her force of will unrelenting. I'd know , if she'd cum. I will definitely know, when the moment arrives, because of the excessive productivity of those big balls which slap so roughly and dominantly against my own.

But it's clearer than ever why she likes to have things done differently, why she likes to be serviced and not have to fuck. This…this is so much energy. It can't be that she's not attracted to me, can't be that I'm not tight – only she has ever been in there! – but for as much as her dick throbs forcibly, it seems to do so with the utmost control.

If this is going to be introduced as a reward, then…then I'm going to become the cocksucker she wants. I'll have to be. This is…this is better than pussy, even my memories of Maddie at her tightest. To be fucked like a dog in heat, arse-up and with her taking me so ferociously from behind, is better than any sex I've ever had. I can even – I'd be wide-eyed, if not for the fluttering of my eyelids, wracked with pleasure as I am – recall that initial encounter, where she actually rode me. Even that, being inside of so perfect a womanly form, doesn't come close to this.

It's as if my brain is wired in such a fashion that the peak of my sexual life can only be this, can only be achieved when Irina is hanging out the back of me. With every piston stroke of her powerful hips, delivering a multitude of thick and swollen inches into the depths of my bowels, the pieces seem to lock firmer into place, superglued into a shape that not so long ago I would've dreaded accepting.

Schplup-plup-thwap, schplup-plup-thwup, schplup-plup-thwap.

Yet now, as her beefy balls batter my backside, as her dick seems to dominate every inch of the deepest and dirtiest of my holes, all I can do is crave the impressive release of her sperm into my body. I can't quite believe how far I've fallen that some large part of me wishes she would ejaculate into my mouth instead, that I can see the glee on her face as I swirl the thick virility around with my tongue and taste that most intimate and illicit of substances, but the satisfaction of being ridden like this more than makes up for it, so long as her load ends up inside of me all the same.

I clench tight around her, as best I can, some clarity regained in the post-orgasmic bliss. A neurochemical nightmare of the finest kind, a surge of so many feel-good chemicals, but in their wake, even as my body remains a shuddering shivering mess of itself, I know just what I need to do.

'Oh, honey,' Mummy says, her breathing momentarily stuttering. Her heavy breasts jiggle against my back, a few thin layers of clothing separating me from their unreal magnificence. 'You really must–mhm–want that cum.'

'G-ive it to me,' I say, tasting the air, wetting my lips. 'Pl-ease, Mummy. Shoot your–ughn–strong genes in my slutty–guh–bum.'

She doesn't slow, doesn't have to.

Schplup-plup-thwap, schplup-plup-thwup, schplup-plup-thwap.

It makes it all the more amazing that she manages to get an arm around my throat, catching me in the crook of an elbow as Maddie looks on, eyes wide. The blonde at last can't hold back, can't enjoy my presence alone, and shoves a hand down to tend to her clit, though its slick flicking is all but silent against the loudness of Irina drilling into me.

'I bet you wish you were a girl, don't you? I bet you wish I could put a baby in you, you dirty little whore of a boy.'

I don't, don't dare want that, but I know why she's said it. I know, as well, that I want the mechanics , if not the biology. I know, as well – and have fallen far enough to own that fact – just how to speak back to her, to coax the cum out of her dick through the erogenous zones of that maddeningly dangerous mind.

'You know I–ughn–do, Mummy. I'm just a–gruh–slut for you. A hole for you to dump your amazingly po-tent seed into.'

'Oh, Theo.' Mwah. Smooch. She kisses the top of my head, ravenous as can be. 'You're such a good boy, pushing all my buttons like that.' Irina laughs, vicious, victorious. 'Do you love me, honey? Do you love what I've–ugh–turned you into? Just tell me the truth, and I'll creampie you. Just tell me the truth, and I'll shoot a sea of–argh–your favourite superior sperm into that naughty backside.'

Love is…love is meant to be beautiful, isn't it? It's a strangely sobering thought. Love is meant to be fair, and noble, and true, and…I'm not sure I'll ever be capable of that kind of thing. Not now. Not after all of this. Not when all I can think about is her dick, her balls, her body. Her…her satisfaction . I want that, don't I? I want to please . To please this woman who has reduced me to a shell of myself.

Schplup-plup-thwap, schplup-plup-thwup, schplup-plup-thwap.

Irina leans in closer, nuzzles the top of my head. Still thrusting, still fucking. 'Well, honey? What do you say?'

'I…don't know yet,' I say, quickly. 'B-ut I don't ever want to go back. I…I want to learn to love you, Irina. I want to…want to belong to you. To be your property. It's…it's the only way I can ever see myself being–ughn!'

Schplup-plup-THWAP.

She hilts herself into me, before I can even finish. 'Oh, God. Honey. Ughn. Argh.' The woman almost sounds like a beast, for a moment, sultry and yet fearsome. Her lock on my neck tightens and that other hand, pressing down against my left hip, digs its nails into my flesh and yet the pain is minuscule compared to the eruption within me. 'Yes, Theo. Be mine. Be mine. I want to–gruh–ughn–own you.'

'Mhmf. Fuck, you two are so h-ot.'

Maddie moans, whines, shudders right as the immense first rope of semen splatters the inside of my rear. I'm wide-eyed, amazed, both at my words and the sheer enormity of her orgasm. Her load comes out in dense strings, so forceful in their projection that each one is like an impact inside me, the density incredible, the volume vulgar. So fucking virile, so fucking potent, so fucking perfect .

Have I said too much? It all came out in an instant, seemed so natural. I don't know . That's the truth, not a lie. It felt terrifying to say, in the moment. That I might not experience this , bliss , as her tremendous glans clings to the walls of my insides and spits, spurts, shoots, drenching me with the impossible quantity of dominant dickgirl seed that Mummy's body so effortlessly unleashes.

I shudder, orgasming, or perhaps not. Shudder, most of all, from the power of what I said, still lingering in my ears. Mwah, smack. That Irina kisses my head as she does suggests that those words must've been spoken honestly, for she would otherwise be displeased. I…is that really how I feel, deep within me? That I want to be an object, for her? To be a possession ?

As Mads continues to climax, strumming away at her pretty pink pearl, and Mummy continues to dump a mammoth quantity of potent pride into my arsehole, I'm left with the lingering awareness that yes , on some level I do feel this way.

That deep within me, there's a truly incorrigible whore, though I can't tell if he was always there. Presumably, he must've been, but…it doesn't matter now.

'Ughn. God, yes, Theo. Mine. Mine. M-ine.'

Irina at most gyrates, presses against me without actually thrusting. Her enormous balls rise and fall, engulf my own, seem to ripple and shift as their contents continue to splatter my innards with increasingly smaller squirts of genetic material. Her words are like molten obsession, some stinging sweetness. Power given, and her mind has leapt at the chance to have me like this.

All I can do is stare forwards, stare into some inner void, captivated and concerned. The post-ecstatic clarity brings with it no shelter from the storm, no sense of right or wrong. There's only lust, only desire, only hunger and want and the looming possibility that it's all just a matter of perspective. That in truth, degradation and devotion are one and the same. That at my core, I can either fear this part of myself, or love it.

'Mhm. Mine. Oh, yes, honey. Ugh.'

She moans right up until the last spurt, leaving me completely loaded with her thick, sticky heat. It seems to slosh about back there, lining the walls at every angle, complete ownership over my rear. A male hole, a surrogate cunt, and she's made very good use of it.

'Aah. F-uck.'

Mads keeps stroking away, rabid almost, uncontrolled. She rests back against the desk now, eyes shut, the image in her head more than enough. Flick-flick. Stroke-stroke. I'd find her beautiful, find her arousing, but I am so thoroughly spent.

Mwah . Irina kisses the top of my head again and, her hold softens. 'We'll get there,' she says, massaging my sides as she draws back her hands, straightens her torso. 'We'll make you love me, Theo. We'll be such a happy family.'

I'm surprised she can talk so clearly, more so that she's able to pull herself out of me and step away without sounding the least bit unstable on her feet. My sphincter instinctually tightens, holding her release within me, some indelible mark of her victory.

'K-ay.' It's all I can manage, paired with a faint nod. I glance back at her and find my boss fairly hurriedly neatening herself up, seeming to effortlessly mask any hint of her dishevelment. A perfect exterior, wielded like a weapon. 'M-ummy?'

Irina smiles at me, licking her full, fantastic lips. 'I've a meeting, honey. I'll be in touch. You…take the day off. Both of you. You've earned it.' She clicks her tongue against her teeth, and nods towards Maddie. 'Clean Theo's bum up for him, Mads. It's only fair.'

The blonde only manages a nod, curls bobbing, no words leaving her lust-savaged lips. My focus returns to the dusky-skinned dickgirl, the authoritative Amazoness, to watch as she slips her heels on and finishes with her blouse buttons. With a roll of her shoulders it's as if she's never been here at all, instantly regaining a state of mindful calm.

Irina gives casts me a wink and a smile, and goes to leave our office, a skip in her step. She stops in the doorway, and eyes the ravaged desk for a moment. 'I'll replace that, honey. Don't you worry. You might have to smell the memories for a few days, mind you. See you later.'

She's practically giggling as she leaves, leaving us together in the deafening silence of her wake. A shivering, sex-scented, ruinous mess of two people. Two lives in thrall to Irina's. Maddie's writhing draws my gaze to her, and I realise I'm still hilted, my crotch a mashed-up mess of cum and juices.

I'm not sure if I needed to say what I said. When I look at Mads, I feel this great symmetry. That we are, in two different ways, in the exact same position. That without even saying it, it's difficult to imagine we're anything other than Irina Blackwell's pets.