The following totally fictitious writings of Faibhar are intended for the sole
readership of those of LEGAL AGE. The ADULT ONLY material contained within is
also for personal use only where local standards permit scenes of extreme
violence, torture, and sex. Please do not read further if any of these subjects
offend, or if you are not of legal age.
Any similarity between actual persons or names is purely coincidental. NOTE:
Many of the same names and characters used in the following are also used in the
series featuring Annika. If interested, these stories may be located in the
bdsmlibrary.com archives.
Your sole enjoyment and cooperation in not using this story in any other
application without the express permission of the author is requested.
Thank you.
Faibhar
HR Meets Sales
Twenty-four year old Lara Simmons finished the last of the latte and switched
off her desk lamp. The long weekend officially started hours ago. Dusk settling
automatically lit the amber security lights of the industrial park beyond her
Sego office. Reflection from them sparkled off of her new bracelet. She was
almost out the door when the phone on her desk buzzed.
In a much larger and brighter office area down the hall from the nearly
deserted building Jack Lang, VP of Sales at Sego hushed his troops, waving his
free hand while his other steadied the cradled phone between his neck and
shoulder. Handsome in an investment advisor/insurance properties gelled sort of
way, the thirtyish sandy-haired executive controlled his whispered voice into
the phone's mouthpiece. Finishing the call, Lang hung up and beamed as he faced
the five of his sales staff; four studs and his beautiful fiance, the ravishing
Heather.
"She just finished all of that coffee I spiked. Our little HR assistant
should be here any minute."
Lara checked her petite wrist watch and decided the numbers were too
little to read. Besides, a few more minutes with one of the higher ups couldn't
hurt. That sales VP did say he wanted to check some figures on W-2's and 401K's.
Odd that he would think of doing so now. Gathering up her things she locked the
office door, wishing that her missing boss Annika was back. She was just an
assistant in Human Resources after all, not officially in command. Assistants
weren't paid to spend long hours of overtime. Regardless of what Lang wanted she
was more than ready to leave and not about to waste more weekend time with him
than absolutely necessary, even at the cost of earning some brownie points. Her
heels batted down the empty corridor carpet.
Sales was on her way out in more ways than one.
Rather than account executives they liked to call themselves, and have
others call them, retail advocates. Frenetic Tony, the newest hot-shot retail
advocate and the only one with cargo pants making his other business attire even
more ridiculous looking, finished another slice of pepperoni and pine apple
pizza. Without wiping his mouth he guzzled more yellow elixir from his spiked
can of Mountain Dew and observed, "Should be plenty for all of us. Bing badda,
boom."
Alfred belched and took another slice of pizza despite the way his
stomach rumbled. It must be the garlic that gave him so much heartburn. The
sliver-haired T.O. was senior to most of them, especially Tony, the fresh one
hired only six months ago. Alfred, who also was a retail advocate when not
closing deals for others, preferred booze to the stuff that the kid drank.
Preferably brown and neat. Like the one he just emptied from his glass. Poon he
had seen more than Tony ever would in his lifetime.
By contrast to Lara's office the sales room was brighter and larger by
ten fold. Empty cubicles filled now only by snoozing work stations formed a
perimeter. Flat silver colored panels draped the rest of the world out. Had they
been opened, they would have shown what was called the pit during office hours
but whose furniture now bore a scatter of pizza boxes and liquor bottles.
Luminescent ceiling panels directly fluoresced space, clutter and people.
Had the window covering been open it would have also revealed the figure
of an attractive young woman slumped in an office chair shoved against the white
board, head slumped down. Dark blond hair cascaded over the panel top she wore.
Bare legs angled askew as they parted from the dark skirt.
"Let's point out some of our woozy HR assistant's assets," Jack said,
laser pointer in hand. He aimed the small silver device. Red dots danced over
Lara's top and energetically dipped down to the sheer stockings covering her
kneecaps.
Alfred burped and mumbled something to Tony about it being time to close
this deal. He'd had enough of Jack Lang's presentation. Instinct told him that
was wasting. Heather joined the two. She brushed away black hair covering part
of her forehead and snaked an arm gently around the back of Jack's starched
collar. Reaching around and giving his gold silk tie a little jerk she said as
she pecked his cheek, "I think she's already qualified, lover." Heather's soft
Texas accent showed. "Now's time to put up or shut up."
In her drugged stupor Lara's haphazard swings clearly missed their
intended targets as she was lifted up and out of the chair. From somewhere she
could not see, fingers clawed at her top. Other hands groped her skirt. It was
nearly impossible to hold her head up. Soon she stood bowed and half naked.
Jack Lang grabbed a bottle of Beefeater's and tossed it to Fred, another
of the retail advocates. "Looks like our HR assistant could use some more
encouragement." He relaxed on the edge of the long pit desk now covered in party
detritus and watched doughy Fred attempt to force the tall blond to drink. Not
surprisingly, vodka sprayed from her mouth almost as soon as it poured between
her lips. Fred and Alfred then forced her head back and pinched her nose. Jack
watched as this time the liquor went down her throat. "Can we boss? Can we?"
Tony pleaded between speedy bites of pizza and gulps of soda.
"Sure, why not?" Jack grinned and nodded his approval as the unlikely
trio of tubby Fred and Alfred and the barely clad Lara stumbled toward the
office copier with Tony eagerly tagging behind. They ripped away her garter belt
and stockings. Panties followed. In front Jack could see the narrow strip of
brown curls crowning long legs. Dimples winked at the small of her back.
Only her lacy bra remained as she was hoisted up and sat atop the
copying machine. A noise within the unit rumbled. The unit chunked and clunked.
Bright light flashed and went from one end to the other underneath her. The
light repeated with each successive pass.
Heather kissed Jack's cheek again and whispered in his ear that it was
time to get really serious. When he nodded and kissed her back on the lips she
bared white teeth, pumped an arm, kicked out a leg and gleefully said so that
all could hear, "Cha-chinng!"
The unrelenting glare of the fluorescent panels continued in Jack Lang's
office. Spread-eagled across his ebony desk lay the now nude Lara Simmons. Nylon
stockings tied her wrists to the desk legs. Phone cords tied ankles. Bare
breasts flattened as the tops of her shoulders lay off the edge of the desk.
Brownish nipples pointed toward the seat back of Jack's executive chair. Sharp
ribs led to a sunken stomach under which her lower back arched above the sleek
black surface. Thighs pointed at 45 degree angles over the other desk edge.
"Let's toss a coin to see who gets first," Tony chattered, so entranced
to forgo at least for the moment even considering any more refreshments. He
stood poised over the naked torso, coin in hand. "Call it!"
Jack Lang was first to speak. "I think it only right that Heather be the
first." He smiled, picked his teeth with an envelope and said in a gentlemanly
way only those from Dallas can affect, "Hon, show these good ole boys here just
what you can do. Go ahead and scratch that there special itch..."
No ham she, Heather's lips slowly widened. Eyeing all of the men, she
fingered the top button of her blouse and began a slow strip. Teasing them with
her body and eyes, Heather removed her top and unbuttoned her bra.
"Boys I know you like 'em." She brazenly cupped her warm tits, softly
smoothing hands over the creamy flesh with their hard nipples. Heather used her
right hand, forming a wedge with the first three fingers. "Let's just open this
one up a little more for y'all." French nails entered hot pink parting Lara's
splayed legs. With determined intensity Heather moved her hand forward, ignoring
protesting moans from the other side of the desk.
All but Jack Lang stood in awe as the half-naked Heather fisted the
restrained HR assistant. Tony distractedly munched on another slice of pizza as
he watched Heather's fist disappear first. Her forearm followed. And then the
pumping began. The moans were joined by ever increasing sloshing sounds of the
arm acting like a lubricated piston, drawing out before plunging back in.
Heather's forearm glistened as she worked.
Alfred cursed under his breath and sat in the chair behind the desk.
Between his legs he could see the veins pulsing in Lara's neck. Hands under her
head, he lifted it up and inserted his cock between her lips. He licked the dew
forming on her raised chin and then proceeded to ram into her mouth as Heather
fisted her other end.
"Look! These are like two control knobs." Tony took his turn in the
chair. Setting aside for the moment more slices of pizza and soda, he twisted
and turned Lara's nipples as he battered her head. He cared little, but by the
time it was his turn sperm spent from the other retail advocates blanketed
Lara's eyes and forehead. Freeing the twisted nipples he reached forward and
patted her stretched stomach. "Let's give her a pink belly!"
"Let's do the pink belly thing with this, instead." Heather shoved away
balding Fred as he was thrashing into Lara's pussy and removed a silver belt
from her waist. She swung the thin leather like a whip. It cracked across Lara's
midriff, just above the navel. A second swing crossed over the first welt. Tony
quickly removed his hands so that they too would not be hit.
"Hang tight. I've got another idea." Heather snapped on her bra and
pulled on her top. Whipping the girl left her winded. She left the buttons on
her blouse stay undone. It was cooler that way. Holding up a stapler, she
climbed on the desk so that her stomach lay on Lara's. Pinching one nipple, she
squeezed hard. The stapler connected. Heather felt Lara buck under her. Giddy at
her own device, she stapled the other nipple.
Alfred down another bourbon and muttered, "That's got to hurt".
"Well actually TWO ideas." Heather took the small tube of Super Glue in
her hand and poured it between the widened labia, holding the lips together as
the glue set. "It's gonna burn, that's for sure. She can still piss and shit,
but in order to fuck she's gonna have to somehow get rid of that glue."
The drive to the airport later that night was uneventful. A used pizza
napkin wiped most of the spent sperm and smeared makeup from Lara's face. Tony
and Fred held her up while Heather dressed Lara in the clothes she had worn,
minus any underwear. The ensemble rode mostly in silence to the airport in Jack
Lang's Lincoln with the barely conscious Lara seated in the back between Heather
and Alfred.
Once they arrived, overweight Fred excused himself from what was to
follow.
In the locker area Jack Lang said to Lara, "If you feel like throwing
up, now's the time. I don't want your puke flying back up at me." He finished
buckling the double harness to his navy blue jump suit. Lara weakly raised her
helmeted head. She ached all over. The VP dressed as a skydiver stood before
her. Others wore similar getups. Only she wore street clothes, and no panties at
that. "We're going to jump together. The helmet will keep your hair from blowing
back up so I can see the altimeter. Remember to lay your body out. Belly to the
ground. I'll do the rest."
Dress in a scarlet suit striped in white, Heather walked up. She smiled
and kissed Lara's cheek even as the other woman snapped her head angrily away.
Looking up at Jack Lang she said with a smile, "We're good to go. Alfred will be
flying."
Noise inside the Cessna drowned out most conversation. Jack Lang cupped
his hands and shouted into Lara's ear. She did as told and placed her bare feet
ontop his jump boots. He strapped her body tight to his and lifted up her skirt.
Lara's scream drowned out the aircraft noise as her ass was penetrated. Heather
wrapped a warm scarf tightly around Jack Lang's balls mashed as they were into
Lara's ass. A green light flashed inside the cabin. Retail advocates dressed as
skydivers shuffled toward the opened cargo door.
Frigid air blasted the nighttime skydivers. Three of them quickly popped
flares. A loose circle was formed. All but one wore the proper equipment. At a
designated altitude all pulled their ripcords. The bodies suddenly jerked from a
position parallel to the ground to more or less perpendicular to the ground
still far below as their chutes began to open. Loud as it was, Lara's scream
failed to rise above the slipstream.
Jack Lang did not believe he could penetrate any deeper into the warm
anal cavity of the HR assistant. That is, until his feet hit the ground. Both
rolled on the desert floor. He felt her body racked with sobs as it was strapped
to him. He also felt the warm satisfaction of his own sensational orgasm. That
plus the skydiving was truly sweet. He'd have to tell Heather.
The next morning proved to be a clear day. Early sun heated the salt
flats. Jack Lang addressed his people, and the much bedraggled, but somewhat
more coherent Lara. "This is where we let her go."
Tony pulled off the sweatshirt he had donned on waking and said,
"But...won't she tell?"
His boss patronizingly smiled at his newest retail advocate. "Whose she
gonna tell? And that's if she even makes it back." Tony at first did not seem to
get the message until Alfred groggily reminded him of the date drug and all the
else.
Jack Lang took Lara by the shoulders, spun her toward a distant horizon
and said, "Thanks for the good time. Have fun in HR." With a shove, the Sales VP
sent her stumbling on her way.
