Standard disclaimer: this story is a very over the top work of fantasy, and it contains extreme humiliation, blackmail, and unsafe sex practices. Enjoy!

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The first two days after my gym experience had left me limping painfully with each step. I still met Cliff for personal training sessions in just a jockstrap, but luckily I had not been ball-busted again by Hal and his friends. And outside of a couple of teasing text messages, photos of his huge hairy balls or a close-up of his purple cock head, I was left alone by Mel too.

Three days later and I was at work when my boss Steve Kennedy breezed into my office without announcing himself, startling me when he spoke from behind.

“So who’s the lucky young lady?”

He sat his big ass on my desk, spreading his suit pants open, his crotch inches from my face. I couldn’t help but look at his bulge – I had never noticed the sizable contents of his trousers before.

“Or man?” He suggested, raising his eyebrow quizzically. I sputtered something, completely flustered.

“None of my business. But I can tell that you’ve been having some fun.” He laughed.

“No Sir, it’s not like that, I was just sick, and…” As I trailed off he continued.

“Son I can tell when a man’s aroused. You’ve got ants in your pants. You’re distracted. And your little pecker’s hard in your trousers about 24/7 by the looks of it.” Kennedy said laughing, pointing at my crotch. It was clearly tented. Again I sputtered feebly, unable to explain my boner. I lowered my head as he cracked up with laughter – I can’t believe I was hard in front of him. Was I hard because of him? He then patted my shoulder reassuringly.

“Like I said, none of my business. But just make sure to separate work and fun, OK son?” He advised me, his heavy hand continuing to massage my shoulder as I looked up at him.

“Yes Sir.” I took in Steven Franklin Kennedy, the head partner at my firm and my direct supervisor. He was far more put together than Mel but still, both men were about the same age, somewhere in their 60s, both men had wide hips, big bellies and domineering attitudes. Now that I thought of it, Steven had always been just as touchy-feely as Mel. Shoulder pats, grabbing my hips or waist, encouraging pats on the backside – he had often remarked that he saw himself as a coach and me as one of his players.

He stood from my desk, keeping his left hand on my shoulder. He then leaned down, and put his right hand on my stomach, holding me lightly, and brought his mouth to my ear, whispering.

“And if the little thing won’t go down by itself, just go to the men’s room and wack it off in the stall. No shame in that either, just don’t make a mess.” My face bloomed anew at this suggestion. He brought his face close to mine, looking at me intently.

“Yeah?” He asked, demanding an answer.

“Yes Sir.” I croaked out nervously. Was I agreeing that I would not let my newly invigorated sex life distract from my responsibilities? Or did he want me to agree to masturbate in the bathroom at work?

“Attaboy.” He slapped my shoulder once more and left me sitting there beet red and hard as a rock in my chair.

I had hoped that this would be the last time I ever discussed my masturbatory habits with my boss, but I should have known based on the recent trajectory of my life that I would have no such luck

“Petey, you, uh, taking care of business?” He asked, making a wrist pump gesture, grinning and winking at me lewdly. It was the universal “jerk off” symbol.

“Uh yes Sir.” I said.

“Good. Make sure of it. As many times as necessary. I know how you young fellows are.” He smiled, slapping my shoulders. He walked way then called back.

“Remember, there’s no shame in taking matters in to your own hands!” He said, way too loudly from across the hall, making the jerk-off motion with his hand again.

Later that afternoon he grabbed my hips as I passed him in the hall. I let him detain me as he lightly pushed me against the wall, stepping in close.

“Petey, how’s it hanging? It better be hanging, son. If the little soldier’s standing straight up, for Christ’s sake go take care of it, boy.” He ordered, chuckling, gesturing with his pointer finger up and down in my face to mimic my flaccid versus erect penis.

“So what is it boy, hanging or standing up straight?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer, his left hand still holding on to my hip.

“It’s hanging Sir. Just hanging.” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

“Good boy.” He praised, patting my butt upon releasing me from the inappropriate interrogation.

Somehow the old man had determined my masturbatory habits were OK to discuss and openly tease me about it. He would bring it up constantly, the frequency and excessive, even compulsive nature of my supposed jerk-off addiction.

It wasn’t long before some of the other guys, mostly other partners and senior associates who outranked me, joined in. During a lunch order, someone asked how the chicken was.

“Petey loves Ankara escort choking the chicken.” Bob Huston joked, sending the four other men in the conference room into hysterics. All I could do was lower my head and laugh along sheepishly. One of the guys slapped my back. I was the office masturbator.

Two days later I stepped onto a crowded elevator, and my stomach dropped when I realized the only open space was directly in front of a smirking Mel. I stepped in, and turned my back to Mel to face the door. I felt his hand grab the back of my belt, right at the middle, and pulled me into his waiting crotch. He pushed his hard-on into my backside and I stifled a gasp as he rubbed it against me.

The elevator slowly progressed up, unloading and picking up more men on each floor. All the while Mel continued to grind his big boner right between my buttocks and quietly panting his warm breathe on the back of my neck.. Soon I was hard myself, which I tried to discreetly cover with my hands. Blessedly no one looks you in the eye on an elevator, or they would have seen my furiously blushing face. The 15 or so other men crowded up with us did not seem to realize that Mel was molesting me, asserting himself up against me.

Holding my belt, he kept me on so that we passed my destination. Finally we were the last people on the elevator. He pushed me out roughly at the 16th floor, which was unused during the afternoon. I stumbled and he slammed into me, pushing me further down the hall, away from the elevators.

“Move!” He barked. Mel bulled me a few feet back, turning us around a corner. Pushing me backwards, cowing me to where he wanted me. Slapping me upside the back of the head, “cuffing me” or faking me out like he was going to, making me flinch and back up. I just let him force me down the hall. I was under his complete physical control.

“Get down there, bitch!” He grabbed my shoulders and threw me over a bench.

He was on me instantly, pinning me to the bench and grabbing the back of my head so that I was helpless to resist his long, deep kiss. His tongue explored my mouth, drilling impatiently. I yielded, moaning, letting him lap at me as his big rough hands felt me up. He grabbed my sides, squeezed my hips and buttocks. As he kissed me, he humped into me intently, pumping his hips and grinding his hard-on into me. His lips were sealed over mine, ensuring that his spit was deposited down my throat.

Finally he broke the kiss, licking around my mouth so that a thread of saliva stretched from my mouth for several inches and finally broke onto my dress shirt. He grinned at me fiendishly, then unzipped his suit trousers to free his proud red cock. The sight of it bursting out of his gray pants was jarring, the contrast between his formal attire and the obscenity of his powerful, ugly hard penis.

He raised himself up to bring his big dick to my lips, and thrust it down my throat for a few pumps. He made sure to quickly snap a couple photos of me with my mouth full like that. Then he pulled it back out, and adjusted himself so that we were crotch to crotch again. Looking me dead in the eye, he now unzipped my fly. He plunged his fingers in and fished around with my underwear, making a space. Then Mel cleared his throat and hocked one of his big loogies down onto his cock, rubbing it in, adding to the moisture of my saliva.

Mel carefully pierced his big hooked hard-on through the opening of my fly, through my underwear and landed his cock onto my own erect penis. I gasped at the pleasure of his lubricated boner sliding up onto mine like that. Mel’s hand followed through into my pants, keeping our cocks together as he thrust. Fucked his cock on top of mine. I ground my hips into the bench, meeting his thrusts. Mel’s throaty laughter filled the empty hallway.

“Yeah, Peter loves to play with Daddy’s cock, doesn’t he? Our cocks are kissing, isn’t that nice?” He blew an air kiss at me mockingly and his free hand squeezed the back of my neck, shaking it for an answer.

“Y- yes Daddy.” I grunted. He then welled up his cheeks and spit a large deposit of saliva into my mouth open, which I accepted and swallowed down into my belly without protest. He laughed again, which turned to his own satisfied moans as he continued to saw his wet dick over mine in my pants.

“My fat schvatz is fucking your little schmeckel. How’s that feel, kiddo? Maybe my big cock is going to get your little pecker pregnant, huh?” I just nodded and let him have his way with me.

It felt so strange, both of us in full suits, our clothes rubbing against each other, but his hard penis plunged into my fly. His full weight pinning me down over the bench. I looked down in astonishment where our groins were joined, our suit pants, with just a glimpse of this thick, veiny cock. It was a total violation, to be fully dressed but used like this. Mel’s humping increased, became harder and more insistent, and his warm breathe panted on my neck as he fucked our cocks together. I looked at his bald head, shining with sweat.

He lifted Ankara escort bayan his head up to look at me in the eyes as he humped his dick over mine. I felt my cheeks blushing, uncomfortable under his gaze as he pleasured his big cock over mine. His eyes had that same unreadable look as when he had fucked me previously. Hatred, amused contempt, hunger. His tongue licked around his lips suggestively as he ground his crotch into mine. I was sweating like crazy now too, I felt my armpits dripping.

When I turned my head away to avoid his gaze, he roughly grabbed my face and squared it with his, so that my eyes were again vulnerable to him. He smirked at my embarrassment but the cold fury in his eyes remained. I felt a strange kind of superstition, like him looking me in the eyes like this was dangerous. Like he was filling my soul, my whole being. Mel was an evil old warlock who had stolen me completely. I lay there and let him hump my crotch.

“Come on baby, let Daddy fuck that little clit. Rub your little clit against Daddy’s big fat cock!” He moaned as he ground our crotches together. One hand fixed our dicks in place, while his right hand had found my neck and was squeezing it roughly. I lifted my hips back obligingly, greeting his cock with mine, and let him crush my windpipe.

The big old man was braying like a boar as he brought himself off, and the speed and warmth of his big, spit-soaked cock was too much for my little boner. I was wracked by my own orgasm as I felt his big penis pulse and heard him roar triumphantly. The bench was scraping on the floor as fucked me up against the wall. I came helplessly inside my pants.

“Oh yeah, take it you bitch!” He growled, his hands clawed into my sides, and I felt a seeping wetness in my pants. We were both cumming, and Mel continued to grind his big cock over mine. My crotch was filled with cum, his and mine. Mel gave me another dog-like kiss, then spit in my face as he pulled his head away. Lifting himself off the bench, I watched as his crimson, turgid cock withdrew from my pants, smearing the fabric as it left. Catching his breathe, Mel reached down between my splayed legs, took the end of my tie and casually wiped up the left-over semen from his dickhole. I watched as he squeezed out the last few drops of his load from his urethra and right onto the silk. Blotting his big shiny cockhead against my striped tie like it was a napkin. He then let my tie go, laughing cruelly at me, as he put his clean cock back in his trousers.

I just stayed there splayed out on the bench, gasping for air, totally destroyed. It felt sickeningly wet and warm inside off my underwear. I looked down at my crotch and as I feared it was soaking wet. It indeed looked like I had pissed my pants, but even worse, any man who smelled it would instantly know that I was not soiled with urine.

Mel chucked down at me, tucked in his shirt. Except for being a little sweaty, he looked completely fine.

“Well don’t you look nice, Petey!” He crowed, whipping out his phone to capture my disgraced state. I kept motionless as he took several photos of me.

He then lifted his knee and brought his size 13 dress shoe right between my spread legs, slamming his heel right onto my drained balls. I yelped like a kicked dog. Mel kept his foot there and increased the pressure, grinding my nuts into the bench. He leaned down, pressing more of his weight, so that his face was nearer to mine.

“Next time I’m taking your pussy, you understand? You be ready for me, every morning.” He shook his finger in my face as he continued to step on my trapped balls.

“Ugh- yes Sir!” I grunted. He laughed, lifted his foot and kicked down harder.

“How will you get ready, boy?!” Mel demanded, grinding the heel of his dress shoes into my gonads. He had a vicious smile on his face as he tortured my manhood.

“I’ll give myself an enema. Enemas! I’ll make sure I’m clean for you, Sir. I’ll make sure, please Sir please!”

He then grabbed both of my ankles and yanked me off the bench, sliding me down so that I landed on my ass and collapsed to the floor.

Melvin walked over me, his left foot crushing my poor nuts, and his right stepping onto my belly, stomping on my white dress shirt.

He brought his left foot up to my face and began to lay his pressure on my chin.

“Lick!” He commanded me to lick the underside of his shoe. I eagerly lapped at the filthy sole, desperate to get him to stop crushing my face. I looked up at him, towering above me, his eyes narrowed in derision. Like I was a bug he wanted to crush into oblivion.

Stomping on my dick a few more times, he let out a long, loud fart and walked off, laughing.

I kept still for am moment like an animal playing possum, then finally brought myself to my feet when I heard the elevator doors closed

I headed to the bathroom past the elevators, and my stomach snack when I saw sign indicating that it was out of service. This floor was the only one where I could expect not to see people. I had no choice but to Escort Ankara go down a floor to where there would be much more traffic.

It sounded like a man was at the urinal. I gasped at my reflection in the bathroom. I looked terrible. My white dress shirt was untucked and stained with his dirty footprints at my belly from being stomped on. My light blue tie wrenched around and clearly smeared with Mel’s cum. My face was covered in his spit and my chin was caked in dirt from being stepped on. Red bruises ringed my trachea from where Mel had choked me.

But worst of all was my soaking crotch. From my belt to just a few inches above my knees, my suit pants were sopping with both Mel’s and my cum. The stain was huge and obvious, a much darker shade than my light gray suit pants. I thought of Mel’s monstrous balls, which I had become shamefully well-acquainted with, and the superhuman loads they produced. The old bastard might as well have stuck his hands in my waistband, pulled back my pants and underwear, and poured an entire half liter of milk over my dick. I felt the sickening wetness on my skin, running between my thighs, down my legs. The stickiness soaked through the seat of my pants and I even felt our mess between my buttocks. There was no way I could go back to work in this state.

I turned on the faucet and cleaned up the spit and dirt from my face. I realized there were tears in my eyes too. What was I going to do?I couldn’t go back to work dressed like this. I heard the urinal flush.

“Aww, what’s the matter kiddo, you have a little accident?” A overweight man in his sixties laughed as he stuck his big red cock back in his pants. He guffawed again and patted me on the shoulder patronizingly with his unwashed hand before heading out. I grabbed a handful of paper towels and began dabbing them inside my pants, trying to soak up as much of the semen as possible.

Just then the door burst open and a man in a suit sauntered in. He walked past me towards the urinals, fiddling with his fly, but took a look at me in the mirrors and stopped, whistling low. I didn’t know who he was but he looked in his early 50s, stocky and barrel chested, a big bull-headed man with short-clipped, gray hair.

“Christ, what the hell happened to you?” He asked, looking me up in down in disgust. I just lowered my head and kept cleaning my crotch with paper towels.

“Huh?!” He barked, demanding an answer. I flinched pathetically. He stepped forward, pressing his chest into me.

“It’s just, water…” I sputtered meekly. He slapped the back of my head and I just wobbled in place, letting him lay his hands on me.

“What, you fucking pissed yourself?” He slapped the back of my head again, bucking his hips into me.

“Uh, no just… water.” He got in my face aggressively and sniffed me.

“Is that fucking cum?! You jerking off your little dick in here, you sick sack of shit? You fucking pervert! Get the fuck out of here!” He ordered, slapping me a third time. I backed up and he followed, pushing me out of the restroom. As I got through the door he planted his foot on my ass, literally kicking me out of the restroom. Something about Mel’s conditioning of me brought out other men’s inner bullies. Despite being 6 foot and well built at 190 lbs, it was like I had a target on my back marking me as a pushover, easy pickings.

I was too much of a spectacle to take the elevator and instead took the stairs, hurrying past anyone I walked by, who would look at me with curiosity.

“What happened to you buddy, get your ass kicked?” One of the security guards asked as I rushed out of the building, his laughter chasing after me.

Luckily I didn’t have anything else on my calendar and could work from home the rest of the day. I opted to walk home, self-consciously covering my soiled crotch. This was to little avail -while women seemed mostly oblivious, every man I passed raised their eyebrows, smirked, did a double take, or openly laughed. Once home I stripped out of my suit and worked for the rest of the day butt naked. I made dinner and watched TV while naked too. An unclothed slave in my own home.

Later that night I as I drank a beer, Mel sent me a text message, just a photo of his hard cock. I looked at it, fascinated at the fat ugly thing. The rest of my night was consumed by masturbation. On my couch, on my bed, on my floor on my hands and knees. Perhaps Steve had a point about me, I thought as I came for the fourth time that night.

That morning I prepared myself in the shower as I had promised. Sure enough, he found me that afternoon.

“Counselor.” He grabbed my arm as I walked by him and leaned in, whispering mischeviously.

“I’m gonna need a slice of peach pie real soon.” He blew his gravely voice into my ear, I could hear the wetness of his words and saw his tongue lolling in his mouth lecherously. My face went red. He held tight to my arm and continued. Mel turned me towards him and grazed his other large hand over my belly. I stood still, paralyzed- even over clothes, his touch electrified me. He opened his jagged lips again and moved his monstrous tongue around in his mouth before speaking again. I remembered how he had kissed me, ravaged me with that mouth, as if sucking the life from me, and I felt weak.