MEGAN ACCEPTS 5 free porn video

CHAPTER FIVE: MARKED

This story contains SLUT, EXHIBITIONISM, BIG BLACK COCK, GROUP, and OFFICE

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I was intent on finishing a letter for Mr. Wasson, sometimes struggling to make sense of his scribbling in the margins of the rough draft he had handed back to me. They each had their own little quirks, as was true of everyone. Mr. Wasson, for some reason, had a difficult time understanding how anyone would have a problem with his scratching handwriting, even if everyone, including Mr. Nolan, had complained about it. He stepped out of his office and came over to my secretarial/reception desk.

“How’s it going, Megan?” It needed to go out today and I understood that, but checking on my progress every couple minutes didn’t make it go faster. I sighed, remembering that this was the burden of every hourly person under executives. At least, that’s the way it felt.

“Just finishing it up now, sir.” I opened up a new email, attached the document to it, and pressed send. “You should have it now, sir.”

He stepped closer and kissed the top of my head. “Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” Well, I thought, that certainly helps. Of course, what other office would it be completely appropriate to kiss the secretary?

Mr. Wasson had no sooner popped back into his office, allowing me a moment to breath, and, “Megan? Do you have a moment?” It was Mr. Furman, even if I couldn’t see him down the hall. I looked around the corner and he corrected himself with a smile, “No, probably more like 15 or 20 minutes.” I smiled. Early afternoon, this would be the second time, today, if I read that look correctly.

“Of course, sir.”

I stood, not bothering with a notepad, having little question what he really needed me for. I smoothed my sleeveless dress and quickly checked my hair in the reflection of the company collage of pictures behind my desk. My dress was form fitting, several inches north of mid-thigh, and the front plunged below my breasts. Underneath was panties and stockings. I, of course, had on the ever-present high heels.

As I turned into Mr. Furman’s office, I was surprised by the presence of Mr. Samuels. “Yes, sir, how can I be of assistance?” I tried to remain professional, even in the face of obvious intent. It seemed to add something to the encounters, and surprisingly, even on those occasions when I went from one office to the next naked to be used. Even then, the game was played.

“Well, my dear, I was just discussing with Dave here a revenue trend I began wondering about and he suggested maybe added a new fresh face into some videos. Well, naturally, our minds went to you because you are a very fresh face we’ve all been captivated by.” I blushed. Yes, somehow, I still manage to blush. “Of course, once we started thinking about you, well …” I smiled.

I turned my back to Mr. Samuels who lowered the zipper of my dress. I slid the shoulders off and down my arms, wiggling the dress over my hips, stepping out of it and dropping it onto one of the chairs. Once I removed my panties, I turned to the men with my hands on my hips, my legs slightly parted. “And, once you started thinking about me, sir, what was it you were specifically thinking about?”

That became very evident as Mr. Furman moved some chairs out of the way and stripped. Mr. Samuels followed suit as I chuckled and knelt down before them, sucking and stroking their cocks alternately. It wasn’t long before they were both hard and intent on getting on to the real point of what they wanted. Mr. Furman lay on the carpet, his cock standing tall in his hand. I smiled as I straddled his body and aligned my pussy with his erect cock. Mr. Furman was 9 inches hard while Mr. Samuels was 8 inches. I was going to be full, but not the fullest I have been.

I settled down on his cock and felt pressure between my shoulder blades followed by a glob of lubricant pressed into my asshole. I smiled down at Mr. Furman and lowered my lips to his, pressing my mouth into his full, thick lips as my asshole was prepared with two fingers pressing lubricant inside. I stayed as I was as I felt the other hard cock pressed against my asshole, probing to get past my sphincter. I breathed into the lips kissing me and pressed back with my anal muscles and the cock popped inside several inches. I gasped into the open mouth at my lips as the cock in my ass pulled back an inch and drove forward several more inches. I could feel the tightness of the cock in my ass and the extra tightness it created in my pussy. Soon, two big cocks filled both holes. I gasped and panted as I raised myself to support my body on knees and arms. I had learned quickly from Mr. Nolan and Tom that the man underneath needs room to be active and I gave that to Mr. Furman now. And, as I did, his cock started moving inside me, sliding through my constricted pussy as the other cock moved through my even more constricted anal passage.

I was quickly transported into erotic supercharge. The cock in my pussy glided against my g-spot with the angle I forced it into by lifting my body up. The cock in my ass pressed the cock further against it. I have found anal by itself can be very stimulating for me, but the combination of both certainly is. Nerve endings are connected between the anus and vagina and the interior clitoral legs (part of what we know of as the g-spot) extends along the anus. But, having cocks in both is the supreme contact of those nerve endings. So, when my orgasm crashed over me, it was noisy and I think that pushed the guys over the edge, too. Mr. Samuels, in my ass, came right after me, but Mr. Furman was close behind. Then, after feeling both passages washed in cum, I did collapse, and I found myself sandwiched between the two men. I smothered a giggle as the idea of an Oreo cookie flashed in my mind.

The men were gentlemen, if demanding ones. They assisted me to a chair and provided me a bottle of water. The chair already had a hand towel spread over the seat, a practice that had quickly become customary as several of the men were heavy cummers and it was just easier to prevent soiling the chairs. Each man came to me to have their cocks cleaned, something I willingly and gratefully performed for all of them. Not only was cleaning them an act of a good slut, but it also seemed appropriate as a thank you for the multitude of orgasms the men provided me.

The men dressed as I relaxed and recovered. Sitting naked as they dressed, I thought back to all of this coming about and as I did, my free hand moved to fondle a breast. Mr. Samuels commented on my hand at my breast as he bent over to kiss me on the lips before leaving, “Do you ever get enough, Megan?”

I smiled up at him, “If you mean, am I ever fully satisfied, sir,” I moved my hand to his crotch, “not if any of you needs me.” He chuckled and patted my shoulder as he turned to leave the office.

I stood to follow, gathering up my discarded panties and dress. As I entered the hallway, I saw Mr. Nolan sitting in the conference room by himself working his phone. When he saw me, he waved me in. I put up an index finger to give me a minute and walked quickly to my desk where I dropped my dress and panties. I swished the last of the water in my mouth, hoping to rinse the taste of another man’s cum, then straightened my stockings, and patted my hair in the reflection of the picture before walking back to the conference room. I found him standing at the other door opening to the hallway near his office. So, he was waiting just for me to be free.

Settled in his office with me naked in the chair and him fully clothed, something I have become surprisingly comfortable with, he leaned back in his chair, his elbows on the arm rests and his fingertips touching in a peak in front of his lips.

“I am considering changing out the pictures around the office and as I talked to Reggie (Furman, the VP of Blackened, the video and pictorial group) about ideas of an interesting image, you came to mind.”

I giggled, “There seems to be a lot of that going on today, sir.” I explained what I meant by that and he nodded with a sly grin on my face. That seemed to cause him to appraise me differently and his comments changed direction.

“How long have you been with us, Megan?” I was sure he knew, but I thought about it. I didn’t see a calendar visible. Not surprising with computers and phones, we all had electronic reminders. But, given today’s date and I started … “A bit more than four weeks, sir.”

He looked thoughtful, “Four weeks, huh? You know, any decent place of business would have a probationary review after the first month.” I looked at him with furrowed eyebrows and questions in my look. I was sitting naked in his office for a review? “Do you think we are a successful, effective company, Megan?” I assured him I did. Though, I thought privately, that might be questioned when you pay your secretary this much, and … well, certainly when you ask your secretary to do this much … But I only thought that. He continued, “We are just that and besides our head of HR is just down the hall, so the five of us did get together to appraise your performance.” There was no paper in front of him and he wasn’t checking his computer screen so I was sure this was all fairly informal and relaxed. “We all agreed on how you are doing.” I waited and thought he was teasing me. “Your secretarial skills are amazing. We’ve had good secretaries, but we all agreed you have taken it to another level. Every one of us has quickly come to rely on your ability to review documents and suggest new words or punctuation for effect. Your ability to manage our intersecting schedules, handling phone calls and messages, coordinating with our travel agency, everything is superb.” He chuckled. “Telling you this might lead you to ask for a raise.” I’m already paid more than I can believe plus a credit card for my use. “Now, then, the other part.” He looked at me with his eyes stopping on my breasts. Then, to tease him, I opened my legs. He looked at my glistening lips and thighs, then looked quickly back up to my face. I winked at him and he shook his head. “Yes … flaunt it, slut.” He laughed. “Yes, we all agreed on that, too. A great fuck … great at sucking … a three-hole slut.”

I stood up and gave him a pretend curtsy, “Thank you, sir.” And, a big smile.

He was hesitating, indicating to me there was something else. Finally, “I wanted to have another conversation. Everything is going so well, I wanted to discuss where this could still go. I think, though, here is not the best place for that discussion. Could I take you to dinner, tonight?”

That surprised me. I didn’t see that one coming. “The middle of the week, sir.”

“I know. I have tried to not expect too much after work. We expect so much during work and … well … I’ve had you at my house ever weekend since we started. But …”

I was on my feet and he stopped. I walked around his desk and kissed him hard on the lips. “That wasn’t an objection, sir. I was just surprised.” I kissed him, again. “I’ve accepted your control of me, sir. You can have me any time you want.”

After work, he followed me to my apartment where I left my car and joined him in his. He had a table reserved that was surprisingly private given the popularity of the restaurant. I was still in the dress I wore at work and having taken it off and on several times during the day, I had wanted to change, but he insisted I looked great. Our talk was light and casual through early drinks and salads, then with the main courses served, I sensed a change in his focus.

“Megan, what I really wanted to talk to you about had little to do with work and I didn’t want that environment to overshadow your response.” I thought, that was an interesting opening. He fidgeted a bit and that worried me. This man had shown me nothing but control and power since I accepted my role as his slut at the office and his home on weekends. “You already heard what I think of your efforts at the office. I hope you know how I feel about our weekends together.” I nodded. “There is no mystery to anyone who knows BlackLand what it is we do. But we have maintained a low profile in our offices, for some reason. I think we are past that thinking, finally. We are an enterprise that deals in sex and black sex in particular. The question really became how did we want to present the image for our office.” He looked into my eyes, “That was when you came to mind. That image we talked about before I think is perfect. A big, strong black man with a petite white woman who is overshadowed by him.”

“Okay, sir.”

He looked surprised. “I didn’t even ask you, yet.”

“You were going to ask me if I would pose for pictures, probably naked with some black male. Probably even fucking. If you think it is helpful, of course I will do it.”

He smiled, “There is more to it than just a few pictures, Megan. If this works as well as we think with you, it could develop into an ad campaign, not to mention a pictorial on the websites. You would be out in public looking very much like a porn model. That might deserve some thought. Your ex-husband … your family?”

I chuckled, “I don’t want to be mean, sir, but I am way past those people. They turned on me, so I left them behind me.” I looked at him intently, slipped my right high heel shoe off and rubbed his leg with my stocking clad foot. He flinched at first, then smiled. I leaned toward him, “Sir, I keep telling you, I accept you authority and control. I will do whatever you wish, whenever, wherever, and with whomever.” I could see his breathing increase and probably his heartrate. “There is something I wanted to discuss with you, sir, that is related.”

I dug a folded sheet of paper from my purse and slid it across the table to him. “What is this,” he asked. He opened it, scanned it, then looked at me. “What … what are these?”

As if he couldn’t imagine. “Tattoos, sir. I want to be marked. I want it known what I am.” The three tattoos were a stylized “Slut” with a black spade next to it; a black bull with a black male symbol piercing a white female symbol; and, a black spade with a white Q inside it.

“Are you sure, Megan? Tattoos are permanent and anyone of these has implications …”

I interrupted him, “No implications, sir. Statements. I don’t mean to imply anything, it’s a statement. I set out on a journey, sir, a journey of discovery. And, I have already discovered a lot … a lot about what sex can really be like … a lot about how much I really, REALLY, like sex … but, more, I’ve discovered a lot about myself.” My eyes searched his. He was gazing back at me, intently weighing what he saw in my eyes and face with the words I spoke. “Sir, I accepted the challenge to be your slut. It was shocking to me but there was something about it that felt like an answer to a question I had never asked even to myself. In the process, I accepted my submissive nature that your strength and control shone a bright light on. I’ve accepted, sir, that saying I will be a slut isn’t just a part of a job … the weekends have crystallized in me that I am YOUR slut. I’ve accepted that I will do whatever you ask of me … not only whatever, but wherever, whenever, and however.” He continued to study me. I took a breath after all that and added the exclamation point. “Beyond all that, sir, there is one more thing I have come to accept …” He waited, but with heightened anticipation. “I will fuck whomever you want me to, but … my preference is black cock.” A funny smile tugged at his lips. “I now accept that I desire to be a big black cock slut.”

He didn’t immediately respond, but signaled for the check. I wondered if I had confessed too much, admitted something that caused a concern. He signed the check and stood, putting out his hand to assist me. He leaned into me before turning for the exit, “We’re going to my house. I need to fuck you in the worst way.” He turned, then stopped, “Correct that … I need to fuck you in the most exquisite way possible.” I smiled and didn’t even glance around to see if anyone might have heard.

But, outside, as I rushed to keep up with him pulling me toward his car, “But, sir, it’s a work night, what about … I need clothes for tomorrow.”

He was a man on a mission, a straight bee-line for his car. “Remember, we left some clothes for you at my house.”

Still struggling to keep up … hell, catch up … “But those aren’t clothes we intended for work.”

He stopped in front of his car and punched the fob, unlocking the doors. “We’ll worry about that in the morning.” I stood at the car as he went to the driver’s door. I smiled. My confession did that to him. My admission created that urgency being displayed. I started to the passenger door when he stopped me. I looked at him and saw him scanning the parking lot. Then, “Take your dress and panties off.”

I looked at him with some disbelief, but remembered the shops weeks ago. I pulled the zipper down on my dress without looking around the parking lot myself. Trust. I placed the dress on the hood, then pushed my wet panties down, gathered both in my hands and threw them into the backseat. I looked at him across the top of the car and made an impulsive decision. I casually, if not calmly, walked around the front of the car in only stockings and heels, through my arms around his neck and kissed him, my naked ass directed at the front of the restaurant.

“As I said, sir … whatever … wherever.”

I turned and he smacked my bare ass. I yelped and laughed. Just as I turned around the front of the car, I loud gasp came from the front of the restaurant as a middle-aged couple came out. We both quickly got into the car and were laughing as we passed in front of the couple.

“Sir, what about being marked?”

He was driving one-handed, the other hand either tweaking a nipple or between my parted thighs. “I wasn’t ignoring that. What you said … overwhelmed me.” We talked about the tattoos I showed him. He liked them and would have trouble choosing one to express what I had just confessed. We agreed that the ‘Slut’ and black bull were very descriptive, but we also agreed they might not be for obvious display. I told him I was thinking the ‘Slut’ right above my pussy or the black bull right above my ass crack. He agreed but also thought the black spade with the ‘Q’ could be publicly displayed above an ankle. We didn’t come to a decision when we arrived at his house.

Before I could retrieve my dress and panties from the backseat, he was pulling me through the garage, through the house, stopping only long enough to grab a bottle of wine and two glasses, and led the way upstairs. It was clear he meant every desperate sounding word earlier and was singularly focused on fucking me. I pulled back the covers on his bed, then moved toward him to suck his cock. As he pushed his slacks down his legs, getting him hard was not an issue.

Instead of letting me sink to my knees to suck his cock, he turned me to the side of the bed and pressed my shoulder blades forward until I was bent over the bed, my forearms supporting me, my legs spreading wide naturally. I felt him step behind me, one hand on my hip, the other apparently guiding his cock to my pussy. The head pressed through my pussy lips, moving up and down, and pressed at my hole.

“Damn, you’re always wet and ready.”

I gasped as he pressed into me, half of his magnificent cock sinking into me on the first thrust. “Oooooo … yeeessssss …” His cock pressed fully into me. “I … gasp … try to be … a good … slut.”

He fucked me hard with long, firm, strong thrusts, his need obvious, especially to my pussy. Then, he pulled out … completely and he was gone. “Sir … no … please …”

I heard him at the bedside stand. “Patience, slut! That sight was too enticing.”

I felt the lubrication spread over my asshole, then pressed inside. I smiled. I shivered in anticipation, hoping he was going to do what my slutty mind was envisioning.

He thrust his cock back into my pussy, balls deep in one move and I was confused but not disappointed. Why did he lube me, if he wasn’t going to …? And, he pulled out, again. That emptiness was back. One moment I was full of his cock, the next I was empty … and wanting and frustrated. But … he patted my ass cheeks and I moved a hand back to spread a cheek. One of his joined mine as his cock head moved to probe my asshole. He pressed hard against the resistance of my sphincter. He and I both knew it would yield soon enough from the ass fucking I have endured and enjoyed. The head pressed in, hesitated a moment, another, then pressed harder and sinking deeper and deeper into my anal passage. Once fully inside me, he pulled out and thrust back in, over and over as he had been doing to my pussy. I gasped and groaned. I began pressing back against his thrusts, seeking his cock brutally, wildly.

Then, it was gone from my ass. I felt nothing but air on the insides of my gaping asshole. Then he slammed into my pussy. He fucked me there for 10 … 12 strokes, then out. He slammed into my asshole that had to be gaping still. Another 10 or 12 strokes and he was out. Back and forth. Pussy … ass … fierce and powerful pounding in each … back and forth. I cried out as an orgasm crashed over me. He held my hips firmly as he pulled nearly all the way out only to smash back into either my ass or pussy. I felt he was nearing his own climax but mine had never abated. It seemed that each switch peaked my orgasm anew. I was almost beside myself with devastating stimulation and release at the same time.

When he came, I felt his cock swell huge in my ass and it seemed like he shot a gallon of cum into my bowels with multiple powerful spurts. My arms collapsed but rather than letting me pull away from him, he bent over to stay joined and then stunned me with his next move. He lay over me, his massive cock deep inside, then rolled us so I was on top of him, my back to his chest. Then, with one hand and his feet, he moved us near the center of the bed. Then, he fell back and both arms wrapped around my body. His arms and his cock anchored me on top of him.

I was propped against the headboard, a glass of wine in my hand. We had been talking, recovering. We started talking about the marking, again. He suddenly put his glass down and left the room. I heard him going down the stairs and it was minutes later before I heard him coming back up the stairs. When he turned into the bedroom, I enjoyed a sight I would never get tired of … his big cock (even flaccid) swinging between his legs with each step.

He crawled onto the foot of the bed, spread my legs and held the paper with the tattoos on it next to my drooling pussy. I just watched with wonder. Here was the big black man I had given myself to, his face only a foot from my open pussy, considering what if any tattoo might be inked just above it. I waited patiently, but becoming very aroused all over again. He traced his index finger over the area immediately above my pussy and I could feel that he was writing a word. It had to be ‘slut’. For added tease, he managed to hold his thumb on my clit at the same time. I was sighing when he made his decision.



“I agree with your thinking. ‘Slut’ goes above you pussy, the bull in back, and the spade at your ankle.” He tossed the sheet to the side and slipped three fingers into my spread pussy. After the third thrust, he said, “We’ll take care of it this weekend.” Just like that it was decided. I was getting all of them. My marking as a slut for black cock would be clear to any who would have me.

With that decided, he took my glass and put it on the nightstand next to his. He moved up the bed on his back. “Last time, I did the work. This time, you do the work.”

I looked at his wonderfully exciting body laid out beside me. As I moved along his body with kisses, I found his cock responding, though still only semi-erect. I lay on top of him and wiggled up to kiss him on the lips, my thighs closing tightly along his cock, trapping it between my thighs and underneath me as I continued wiggling, my hard nipples rubbing against his chest as we kissed. I started slithering down his body, kissing his skin as it appeared, my body wiggling side to side as I moved down, his cock being stroked by my body until it is my lips and tongue along its length to his balls, then back up until I took the head between my lips and suck the pre-cum that had formed there. He was already sighing and gasping as my mouth covered his cock and I pressed down on it. I held his cock vertical and pressed down further and further until I had to focus my breathing, relax my throat and gulp to take the head past my gap reflex. He was groaning and mumbling as I pulled up, taking a clearing breath and pressed down steadily until I had it all. He is gasped and strained. His hips rose off the bed but he wasn’t forcing anything. I already had him, but I rose until the head cleared the point where I could exhale and breath through my nose. His cock was rigid and his hand under my chin told me it was time.

I pulled off his cock and licked the excess saliva from it. After one last kiss to the head, I crawled over his hips to his abdomen. He was so large and I so small that I raised one leg to position a foot to raise my body high enough to straddle his upright cock. Once in position at my hole, I sank down slowly, both of us gasping at the feel of my pussy tightly hugging his cock as it filled me deeper and deeper. I shivered as it went deeper and I shifted my leg to kneeing on both sides of him. I shivered again when I am sitting on his thighs and I felt him deep, deep inside.

It is my turn to fuck. I know that. All he will do is tease my breast, nipples, clit, and periodically pull my head down to devour my mouth with his. I know all this. This wasn’t the first time he has told me to fuck him, to use my slut body to make his dominant cock spew its seed into my body. I love the times we make love and the times he fucks me as the slut he wants me to be and the times when he has his slut do the fucking like now. I love it all. It was what I was telling him earlier. I transitioned from initially wanting to be his slut to accepting the fact that I now HAVE to be his slut in any way he wants. I am not sure when this happened, when this transition occurred. Was it his powerful, controlling presence? Was it his big black cock and the cocks of the other men in the office? Was it the continuous use of my body on the weekends? Or, was it the powerful mixing of all of it with my dormant need to be led and controlled?

The sound of my fucking filled the room as our bodies smacked into each other, our mutual groans, grunts, and gasps mixed with the panting of our breathing. I was trying to fuck him with the intensity and aggression he gave me earlier and his body seemed to react to it. But not as quickly as mine was. I have learned that Mr. Nolan’s subsequent climaxes are slower in building after the first, his ability to hold his climax stronger. The same wasn’t true for me. My orgasms would pile on top of each other, which was what was happening. His fingers pinched my nipples or pressed against my clit as my body slammed into his sending shockwaves through my body. When I came, I fully anticipated his cock to respond to the tightening and spasming of my pussy around it, but his hands gripped my waist, encouraging me to continue fucking, raising my body up his cock and slamming back down. Another orgasm crested on top of one not yet receding. I finally collapsed onto his chest and he rolled us to continue fucking me missionary. I cried out as orgasm after orgasm consumed me, my pussy reduced to a quivering, spasming fleshy mass gripping his pounding cock.

When he came, an equally large deposit of his cum into me, I was barely aware enough to appreciate the delicious feeling of being filled with his seed. He held me tightly as my body spasmed through another final orgasm that overshadowed the feel of his inside me.

I woke to darkness, but I woke in his strong, secure arms. I moved my head just enough to look up at him.

“There you are … I was beginning to wonder if I should be concerned.”

I kissed his chest and hugged him tightly myself. “My God, sir! Thank you.”

“Thanking me? You’re the one who fucked me.”

I kissed his chest, again, and snuggled tighter. “Not at the end, and … it was … WOW!” He chuckled. “But that’s not what I was thanking you for.”

“Then, what?”

“Thank you for what you’ve given me.”

“So, you like being our secretary and office slut.”

“Oh, yes, sir … but … what I accepted was being the secretary and YOUR slut. I enjoy being a slut in the office but that is really an extension of being your slut. That’s the difference isn’t it, sir? Being your slut isn’t limited to the office.” He stroked my back and told me to sleep. Sleep came very quickly.

I woke up in an otherwise empty bed. I turned to my back and stretched. Then, I jerked up and looked at the clock on the night stand. It read 7:30! There was no way we’d get to work on time. I tried scrambling out of the bed, but was tangled in the top sheet and nearly flopped face first onto the floor. I then nearly fell when I stepped on one of my shoes before stopping and gathering myself before I might kill myself on the stairs.

I rushed into the kitchen, “Sir … we’re going to be late!”

He laughed as I came sk**ding to a stop next to him. “Megan, I’m the boss. Get yourself some coffee and I’ll finish the breakfast.” I tried to protest, but he shook his head. “Sit with your coffee, that’s an order.” I filled a mug and sat at the table and watched him cook some eggs to go with the muffins and bacon he’d already cooked. We were both still naked. “I already sent a text to Pat Wasson telling him that I picked you up at your place, which I did last night, and I am meeting with you for breakfast, which is now true.”

After eating and sipping another mug of coffee, he abruptly changed the direction of our talking. “Megan, I couldn’t stop thinking about something last night.” I looked at him to continue. “Do you remember what you said last night? I said something about you liking being our secretary and office slut and you made a clarification.”

I nodded, “Yes, sir, I said something about agreeing to be the secretary and your slut, not just the office slut.”

“Yes … right … you said being the office slut was something I allowed. That the difference was that you being my slut wasn’t limited to the office.” I nodded, wondering what the point was. “The weekends have made that very clear.” I nodded and shyly smiled. “And, that’s what I kept thinking about … the office hours … and the weekends.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m not following.”

He stood, his soft cock swinging right in front of me. He was trying to say something and I was trying to keep from grabbing his cock? He topped off our coffee and sat back down. “Okay … what I am trying to get out is that you are right and I’ve not considered it until now.” I raised my eyebrows. He chuckled. “I’m making this too hard.” He paused, then, “I want you to move in here.” I looked up in shock. Talk about unexpected. “You’re right, Megan. You’re not just the office slut, the weekends have shown what we both want. That is what I want, but not just on weekends. I want you 24/7.”

“Holy shit …” I gasped. “Sir … I thought we agreed … no strings to complicate this … just sex.”

He smiled and took my hand. “Megan, I’m not asking you to marry me or be my girlfriend. But, frankly, when I proposed you being my slut, I had no idea it was going to be this good. We fit, Megan. I’m strong and controlling. You’re … not … you need to BE controlled. You’ve responded to everything I have asked of you. You didn’t rest until you truly became a three-hole slut and you’re still not resting, always looking for what else you can learn. Don’t get me wrong, I like fucking you in the office. There is a kinky, voyeuristic, exhibitionistic thrill about being seen and seeing around the office. But this is where we really let go.” Boy, I couldn’t argue with that.

“Don’t you think you should think about this?”

“Megan, I spent virtually the entire night trying to see if there was any reason NOT to do this. I want you here. I want to be able to fuck you anytime I want without waiting for the office or the weekend.”

I stood up and straddled his lap. His cock was stirring beneath me. I kissed him. “I already told you I would do anything. I just wanted you to be sure.” He kissed me back and stood up with me in his arms banging into the table, my legs wrapping his waist. I looked into his eyes, “How late did you say we would be?” We kissed and he carried me back up to the bedroom.

Saturday afternoon and I was nervous and I admitted it. I wasn’t going to back out, but I did admit to nerves. Mr. Nolan had checked with some of the guys at the local Eclipse club who had numerous tattoos for recommendations on where to go. There was an overwhelming choice and that was where we had the appointment. We were met at the tattoo shop by a huge black man. Mr. Nolan introduced us.

“Tommy, this is Megan Collins, who is very important to me. Megan, Tommy. Tommy is head of security at our local club.”

Tommy put out his hand, but I walked past it and reached up to give him a hug and kiss on the cheek. He had to bend over slightly for me to reach it. Mr. Nolan was 6’ 2” and Tommy had to be another half foot taller and close to 250 pounds. But holding his body in the hug, I felt a lot of solid in his body like he was a recent football player or something. He gave me a quick rundown of what to expect but that the artist would take good care of me. He then took my hand and led us into the shop. He and the artist hugged … one of the male shoulder bump hugs … and introduced us as people important to him. That seemed to impress the artist and that impressed me.

We were taken back to a private area and we discussed the tattoos I was interested in and where I was thinking to have them. The artist looked at the samples and smiled, then looked from me to Mr. Nolan who held his gaze with a slight grin formed on his mouth.

The artist took my sheet and returned with several copies of different sizes. When he returned, he had me strip off my skirt (luckily, I had chosen to wear a short skirt with a blouse) and sit in his chair. Because of the location, he said I needed to spread my legs and he would work from inside my legs. I glanced up at Mr. Nolan who was smiling much broader now. As anticipated, my pussy was wet in anticipation and the lips easily opened with my legs. The artist noticed and I noticed he noticed. I may be getting the word ‘slut’ put above my pussy, but I still blushed. He cut out the sizes we agreed would work, applied heavy graphite to them and pressed the first one to the location just over my clit.

Throughout the process, the artist touched, pressed, and rubbed my clit and pussy lips plenty. Tommy had warned me about that as nearly unavoidable, not that the guy wouldn’t enjoy doing it. Tommy said it would be nothing compared to the touching if I ever had a piercing down there. After this, I believed him.


The tattoos were straightforward and only black, so they went fairly quickly. I left that day with my three tattoos and very specific instructions for care of them. Although the pain would quickly subside, the sites would still be delicate to the touch for some time and would seriously cut into my role of being a slut. For several days, I was restricted to sucking cock, but none of the guys objected. Then, for a couple weeks, my fucking was performed carefully so as not to be too abrasive of those areas so they could heal as quickly as possible. I was told to use a specific cream over the tattoo locations to keep the areas moist and reduce itching. It seemed to work. And, it seemed I was an active, if careful, slut in only days.

* * CHAPTER SIX: ECLIPSE VIP ROOM will follow * * Thanks for reading.