Exposed Slut: My Boss’s Revenge Fuck After the Street Gangbang

Heart pounding, I step out of the shower. Five minutes, he said. Naked except for the black-and-white corset hugging my tits, stockings clinging to my thighs, mask hiding my eyes. Cum from those fence dicks still lingers in my nose, mixed with his apartment’s musky scent. My phone buzzes in my coat pocket downstairs—ignored. No time for the real world.

He lounges on the couch, whiskey glass sweating, replaying the video of me slurping cocks through the grille. That evil grin. He hands me the candy necklace: nine whites, one green, one pink. Rules clear—earn whites by obeying, pink for one no, green for his force. First task: suck him exactly 15 minutes, no more, no less. Fail, repeat.

The Approach: Tension Builds in His Apartment

Kneel between his legs. Remote in hand, I rewind the footage. My coat drops on cam, tits out for the street. I unzip him slow. His cock springs free—thick, veiny, familiar already from fantasies. Lick from balls to tip, tongue flat, eyes locked. Watch hits zero. Dive in. Full throat, hand pumping base. He tenses fast, rock-hard. Slow now—wet sheath, tongue swirling, tease the edge. Breathe deep his cologne: sharp leather, sweat. Pull back, jerk over tongue, invite cum. Then deep again, nose to pubes, hold till stars burst. Up, down, control the edge. Fifteen minutes tick. Accelerate—gag, slurp, explode. Swallow every drop, mouth full, stare proud.

The Explosion: Savage Fuck and Dirty Commands

He nods. White candy earned. But no rest. Grabs my hips, spins me. Bent over the table, ass up. No foreplay. Hand dives—I’m soaked, pussy throbbing. Slams in balls-deep. Tight grip, corset digs. Pounds savage: short jabs hit G-spot, long strokes stretch me. ‘Fucking slut boss,’ he growls. ‘Take it, chief.’ I grip wood, knuckles white, moans rip out. Tits bounce, slap table. Sweat mixes cum remnants. Faster, harder—chair scrapes floor. ‘Your hole’s mine now.’ Pulls out, sprays hot ropes on ass crack, back. Drip down thighs.

No candy. Orders barked: sexy office gear tomorrow—miniskirt, cleavage. After work, coat only over nothing, heels, stockings. Wait at his door. Packages coming. ‘Sleep well, chef.’ I stand, legs shaky, wipe cum. Dress quick—street clothes over lingerie. Elevator dings. Step out, cool air hits sticky skin. Phone buzzes again—work email? Ignore. Walk home, heels click pavement, pussy aches full. Neighbors glance—do they smell sex? Door shuts. Shower again. Mirror shows smeared mask, red lips. Colliers stays on, hidden under shirt. Tomorrow, back to boss bitch. But tonight’s thrill burns: stranger turned master in hours. Adrenaline fades, reality creeps. I’m anonyme again—queen by day, hole by night. Disappear into sheets, craving next buzz.