D/s | SEX AT WORK | SEX TOYS

Trapped at a Meeting Between Two Men with a Vibrator in Me

Sir gets his long-distance revenge

Kitten is dripping wet as she steps out of the shower, the water glistening on her skin. She is shocked to see Sir standing there, hands folded behind his back. His face is like thunderclouds.

“What are you doing?” she asks. “You startled me!”

“Imagine how I felt when you surprised me at work the other day, Kitten,” he says, brow furrowed, jaw set as he steps toward her. “I was more than startled. I was embarrassed, flustered, and we could have been caught!

“How many times have I told you that you can’t just show up like that, dressed slutty and making a mess?” He’s still advancing, and Kitten starts to wonder what’s in his hands.

Hopefully something hard and paddley.

Kitten realizes she has nowhere to go; he’s between her and the bathroom door and there’s nothing but the glass shower stall behind her, the hot tub to her right. He’s chosen the right time and place to corner her like a bad Kitten.

Maybe what’s in his hands is metal and handcuffy.

She thrusts her chin out. “You also got a fucking awesome blowjob, and that was so good, were your exact fucking words. Also, I like my work better when you are here. You made a mess too, Sir — in my mouth!”

“That wasn’t for me,” he says. He’s almost within arm’s reach now, but his hands are still behind his back.

Maybe he’s hiding something leather and whippy.

He’s fully clothed, having already dressed for work before she got out of bed. It’s a routine that’s worked for them since she moved in with him.

“That was Kitten needing to play when it was most certainly wasn’t fucking play time. I was in a meeting. At work!”

“Mmmm, you loved it, Sir,” she says. “Now, I’m wet and cold, which is only half of what I like to be, so if you could just…”

He pounces then, throwing an arm around her shoulders and spinning her until her back is to him, facing the shower. Now his arm is across her chest and neck. His hand in her heavy, wet hair, his hot breath in her ear. He moved so fast she couldn’t catch a glimpse of what’s in his other hand. She wiggles her wet ass against his pants; it’s as automatic as breathing.

“Stop that,” he barks. She doesn’t. “If I could just… what?”

“Let me dry off and get dressed, Sir. I have to go to work.”

“I’ll tell you what you have to do,” he says. He tightens his grip and flexes his arm, so his forearm is pressing into her throat. Then she feels something small, light, and silky pressing against her pelvis, sliding down toward her pussy. She can tell from the texture that it’s one of her many toys; she doesn’t know which one.

“This is going in your cunt right now, and what you have to do is keep it there all fucking day,” he says, and suddenly she knows exactly which toy it is. Well, which category. She has all the toys.

Before she can reply, he’s slid the toy in her, roughly. It’s one of her vibrating eggs. One of her remote-control vibrating eggs. She sighs as he puts it in, and presses back against his crotch ever harder. His grasps her vulva tightly, as if to keep it from sliding out.

“All fucking day,” he growls.

“Yes, Sir,” she says. She’s not going to protest; who wants to let work get in the way of a good orgasm?

“Good Kitten,” he says, and releases her. He goes back to the bedroom to change his pants; she grabs a towel and continues her morning routine.

All morning at her desk, she’s aware of the pleasant invasion of the egg, and eager for Sir to use the app on his phone to start its pleasant buzz. As the hours pass, the invasion becomes unwelcome, and her eagerness curdles into irritation. More and more annoyed, she’s distracted from her work as she focuses more and more on her neglected pussy and wondering why Sir hasn’t activated the toy.

She’s just about to head to the washroom to make herself cum and take the damn useless egg out while she’s there, when a colleague pokes her head in the door.

“Coming to the meeting?” she asks.

“What meeting?”

“In five minutes, with management, remember? You’re giving an update.”

“Oh fuck!” Kitten exclaims. “I forgot! Yes, I’ll be right there, just need to run to the bathroom.”

“No, time,” the colleague says. “It’s the boardroom on the far side of the building and you know how Peterson hates tardiness. Last time, Willoughby was written up for being like 10 seconds late.”

“Goddammit,” Kitten mutters under her breath, but it’s an exclamation of admiration, not frustration. She’s a trapped Kitten, and the boardroom will be her cage. Sir planned this, so she would be caught in a room full of her bosses, most of them men, while the egg edges her after hours of unfulfilled horniness. Payback for her Zoom meeting blowjob. The sexy, sneaky bastard.

They arrive at the meeting just in time, but not in time to be able to choose seats. Kitten has to sit between two male managers, both of whom eye her appreciatively as she sits down. Her dress is appropriate for the office, but it’s tight and shows off the curves of her body. She welcomes the attention she gets at the office, and keeps a running list in her head of the hot ones, men and women, so she can suggest them to Sir as potential playmates. Some day.

Now, she’s waiting for the egg to start to pulsate. She can feel her pussy make more slick as the meeting starts.

It doesn’t start to pulsate. Or vibrate. Or throb. The dozen participants, with another six on over Zoom, go through most of the agenda, and the egg is still and silent. Maybe Kitten was wrong. Maybe he is going to let the whole work day pass without turning it on.

Each management meeting ends with a roundtable of departmental updates; when it’s Kitten’s turn, she check her notes and begins.

“As you know, we’ve had some staff turn-oh!-ver…” The egg has erupted into action, vibrating frantically in her pussy, shocking her mid-sentence and making it hard to even think. Sir must have started it at the highest setting, because the vibrations are rapid and powerful. And loud.

Even muffled by her pussy, she’s pretty sure the men on either side of her, at least, can hear the faint buzz of the egg. She’s turned on and wants to see their faces, but everyone is waiting.

“We have interviews set up for both positions and — ah! — we hope to have people in place by the end of the month,” she says. “The resumes are ummm impressive. Otherwise, it’s just the usual day-to-day.” She finishes in a breathless rush.

While the next person speaks, she looks left and right, up and down. Sam and Tristan have definitely heard, she can see. Their eyes are wide as they stare at her, and they are breathing faster than normal.

The thought that they know what is happening, the dirty humming coming from between her legs, makes her even hotter. She wonders if their cocks are hard, and if, like most cocks, they are lovely. Her face, neck, and chest are flushed, and she grips the table. She feels her juices start to leak into her panties.

“You all right?” Left-hand Man whispers, a tiny smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. He’s on the list.

“You are so bad,” says Right-hand Man in a low voice. He’s on the list too. “Damn!”

“Oh God,” Kitten whispers.

Her fingers are white as she clenches the table even harder. Only Left and Right are paying any attention to her; the rest are discussing a slideshow on the boardroom’s huge screen. She wouldn’t object to cumming in front of everyone — that would be fucking hot, especially if everyone had a hand in it, so to speak — but she doesn’t want to be fired. She loves her job. Not as much as she loves cock, cum, and Sir, but it’s a great place to work.

“Uhm. Unf. Mmm.”

She struggles not to scream as the egg finally sends her over the edge as she fantasizes about the two undoubtedly hard cocks on either side of her. She wins that struggle, but loses the one against her hips, as they buck and jerk in her chair despite her efforts to stay still as she comes, pleasure and filthy thoughts.

She closes her eyes as the orgasm subsides, and realizes she’s squirted as she came. Her panties are soaked. She wonders if Right and Left can smell her pussy scent. There’s so much slick down there, they must. When she opens her eyes, she sees the slideshow has ended, and so has the meeting.

People scrape back their chairs and start for the door. Right and Left take long, lustful looks at her as they slowly get up to leave. And she can see she was right — there’s a bulge in each man’s pants. She’s not surprised; she gets that reaction sometimes just walking down the hall. They are still looking back at her as they leave and shut the door behind them.

And the egg is still going at full speed. She’s going to cum again.

Alone in the boardroom, focusing on the next crashing wave of pleasure, her eyes fixate on the screen. There’s still one caller dialled into the meeting, without a video feed. The blinking name reads CALLER 415.

Kitten, who’s typed 58008 into a calculator once or twice (OK, dozens of times) knows immediately that upside down, 415 looks kind of like SIR. It’s how he knew just when to start the egg.

The red phone icon on the name changes from red to green just as she’s moaning softly through her second orgasm.

“Good Kitten,” comes Sir’s voice through the room’s speakers. “Cum again for me. It will be feeding time when you get home.”

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