I was a mess for the next few days. At work, I couldn’t concentrate, and at home, I just kept running to the window every time I heard a car approach. I’m not sure whether I was hoping it was him or not, I felt so conflicted about that whole evening. On the one hand, I felt ashamed of myself for giving in to him so easily, and also incredibly angry with Alan for taking advantage of me in such a cold and cynical way. But on the other hand, it had been the sexiest night of my life, I had never felt more alive, or experienced as much pleasure. I was conflicted alright.

It was after a couple of days that Mr Hollander called me into his office. I felt alarmed, as the senior partner rarely dealt with low-lifes like me, and I took the seat he offered me nervously.

“Is everything… alright, Valerie?” he asked, clearly as uncomfortable about this conversation as I was.

“I… er… I… what do you mean, sir?” I mumbled like a naughty schoolgirl, feeling my cheeks redden. He looked at me over his glasses with an expression which said he really didn’t want to be doing this.

“You’ve always been a good worker, Valerie,” he went on, and I waited for the ‘but’. “But over the last few days, you’ve really let things slip. Simple mistakes, forgetting routine tasks – errors which could have cost this firm a lot of money. You seem distracted, your mind on other things. Is everything alright at home?” I squirmed in my seat, knowing just how bad I must have been for Mr Hollander to get involved.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I replied, my eyes on the floor, “I realise I’ve let you down. I have had something on my mind, but it’s over now, and I guarantee I won’t let it affect my performance any longer.”

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he smiled with obvious relief that this was over,  “but if there’s anything we can do to help, please just let me know.” I flashed him a brief smile as I left and went back to my desk, puffing out my cheeks and trying to relax. I determined to put Alan Finch firmly out of my mind, and knuckle down – I definitely couldn’t afford to lose this job.

“Hi, I’m here to see Mr Hollander?” I looked up sharply at the familiar voice, and a feeling of dread crept over me  when I saw him standing in front of Mr Hollander’s PA’s desk. It had been a week since my dressing-down, and I’d managed to keep my head down and concentrate – now he was here! What the hell did he want?!

“Follow me, Mr Finch,” Susan said, standing and leading him across the open-plan office to Mr Hollander’s door.

“Mr Alan Finch to see you, sir,” she announced, before standing aside to let the star pass. As he did so, he looked around, directly at me, a half-smile on his face, then was gone. My heart was pounding and I could feel my cheeks burning.

“Did you see who that was?!” Susan hissed at me and Fiona, the other secretary. They began twittering and giggling like schoolgirls, commenting on how he was just as good-looking in real life as on telly, and asking all the same questions as me – what was a big star like him doing in a sleepy town like this and, in particular, why was he coming to a small firm of provincial solicitors when he must have agents and big city lawyers  already? I was sure it had to be something to do with me, the coincidence was just too great, but I had no idea what it could be.

He was in there for forty five minutes , when he only had a half-hour appointment, and he gave me another smirk as he left.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, sir,” Susan jumped in as soon as the door was closed, “but what does Alan Finch want with us?” Mr Hollander smiled indulgently, trying to pretend he wasn’t just as affected by the cult of celebrity as everyone else.

“He recently moved into the area, and wants some help purchasing a parcel of land from a local farmer. Now, show’s over, back to work everyone.” As he had been speaking, his eyes had roamed the room, but when he stopped and everyone else looked down to get on with their jobs, his gaze locked on mine and held it for what seemed like an eternity, his expression inscrutable. I felt my cheeks burning and I reached for my glass of water, but missed and sent it tumbling, spilling all over my desk and dripping onto the floor. By the time Sue, Fiona and I had mopped up the spillage, he had gone back into his office and closed the door.

“Are you alright, Valerie?” Susan asked, reflecting the boss’s enquiry the week before. I tried to reassure her it was nothing, but I had to retreat to the ladies’ room to try and pull myself together.

The next few days until the weekend were difficult, but I got through them without any major foul-ups. I knew I would have to keep myself occupied over the next two days, to stop myself obsessing and driving myself mad over HIM, and I started with a three-mile run on Friday evening.

I had just slumped down on the sofa and was rehydrating with swigs from a water bottle, thinking that a hot bath and a glass of wine would send me to sleep nicely, when I heard a car. I resisted the urge to jump up, but when the vehicle pulled up and stopped, I was at the window in a flash. It was him! By the time he reached the door, I already had it open.

“Come on,” he said peremptorily, “I’m taking you to my place.” I’d thought this exact scenario through so many times, and at this point I would always tell him to show me some respect and to go away until he could come back with an apology for his atrocious behaviour the last time we met.

“Um… er… let me just change into something more…”

“Why?” he said dismissively as he turned to leave, “I don’t want you for your dress sense.” I grabbed my keys and scurried after him.

The journey - only a few miles but transporting me to another world, one of opulence and riches - was completed in silence. The house, set in its own grounds, was impressive from the outside and even more so once we went in.

“Very nice!” I gushed, rather awestruck, “are you going to give me the grand tour?”

“It’s just somewhere to live,” Alan replied  disinterestedly, leading me into the lounge, which was bigger than my entire house, and sitting on the couch, “why don’t YOU give me the grand tour? Strip!”

I was taken aback by his abruptness, and I knew I should push back, I should tell him I wasn't as easy and desperate as he seemed to think. But the truth was I was exactly that easy and desperate! The commanding tone also seemed to be impossible to disobey and, after only a momentary hesitation, I found myself pulling off my trainers, sweat pants, T-shirt and underwear, to stand naked before his appraising stare.

"Okay,” he said, unzipping his trousers and pulling out his erection, "let's see if you have learnt your lesson from last time about sucking dick. And remember - swallow, don't spit."

Moments later, I was sitting alongside him, his balls in one hand, his shaft in the other, and his glans in my mouth. There was no hesitation, no reluctance on my part this time, I was eager to show him that I was a star pupil, good at taking instruction as well as orders. I could say that I wanted him to like me, to appreciate me, and it's true, I did want that, even though I knew deep down that he was just using me, and would continue to treat me with contempt, he had no respect for me, I was just some piece of tail to him. But my real motivation was that I wanted to be good at this, I wanted to be this sexual being that could deliver and receive intense pleasure. I wanted to be a slut.

So I gave him the best blowjob I could, using my lips and tongue all along his erect member, even experimenting with licking and sucking his balls, which he seemed to enjoy. I took him deep into my mouth, to the edge of my throat, fighting hard to keep my gag reflex under control. Soon, he was moaning with pleasure, wriggling in his seat, thrusting his hips up at me as he approached his climax. But I backed off, reducing the stimulation I was providing, making him wait.

"Oh, you bitch, that's good!" he groaned, his hands running through my hair, fingers curling and straightening as the waves of pleasure coursed through him. I took him deep again, then began whipping my head backwards and forwards, dragging him rapidly towards orgasm. He let out a guttural cry, grabbed my hair, and then exploded in my mouth. The taste of his cum still made me feel sick, but I forced myself to swallow it all, every last drop, before I let his softening cock escape from my lips. I straightened up and smiled at him, proud of myself.

"Very good, Valerie, I'm impressed," he smiled before standing up and pulling me to my feet. "Let's go upstairs and continue this in the bedroom."

His bedroom was an impressive size, and the bed was enormous. I crawled into the middle of it and lay back, watching him undress. A was amazed at how quickly he recovered his sexual vigour.

"Turn around and get on all-fours," he ordered brusquely. It was obvious what he was going to do, but I seemed to have reached a level of submission where I would do anything for him, and I got into position without complaint. But I couldn’t remain silent.

"Please be gentle, Alan," I begged, looking around at him, "please don't hurt me!" I got a firm slap across the buttocks and a ‘shut the fuck up!’ for my troubles, and I dropped my head down on the bed, screaming into the pillow as he thrust his manhood into me as violently as he could.

He rode me roughly, fucking my arse like an animal, grunting with the effort and making me scream out my pain. But, just like that traumatic first time, a strange pleasure began to be mixed with the pain, turning my cries of anguish into moans of desire. I had raised my head from the pillow now, my eyes closed and my mouth open, the only sounds other than the animal noises coming from our mouths that of our thighs slapping wetly together, and then I heard something else, across the room. I open my eyes and turned to look, and saw…

"M-Mr Hollander?!" I squealed in shock, "what are you… Alan! Stop! Please don't!" I straightened up and tried to pull myself away as my boss walked slowly across the room towards us, his face stony.

"Get back down, bitch!" Alan shouted, pushing me violently between the shoulder blades until I fell back down onto my elbows, still staring at the man now standing only a couple of feet away from me, staring down at my sweaty, naked body. My cheeks flushed bright red as the terrible humiliation of my position washed over me. I could not speak as our eyes locked, while all the time Alan continued to bang me, rocking me backwards and forwards, my breasts swinging free below me.

What was he doing here?! Why was he just staring at me?! I couldn't make sense of it, I couldn't speak, and I couldn't stop Alan fucking me. This was so embarrassing! So humiliating! So demeaning! What must he think of me? Well, I was pretty sure that he was thinking what a dirty little slut I was.

And he was right! Somehow, the fact that he was staring down at me, watching, judging, just fuelled my arousal even more and, as Alan continued to thrust deep into me, I felt the pleasure become something more, the feelings inside me were building, rising to a crescendo and, as Alan began to shout out his climax, I was also crying out loud as my orgasm burst within me. It seemed to last forever, each violent thrust into my rectum causing another mini-orgasm to shoot through me, until at last he was spent, and I collapsed onto the bed, panting for breath, my eyes still locked on those of the older man standing over me.

"See, I told you she was a fucking slut, didn't I?" Alan said breathlessly.

“W-what are you doing here, Sir?" I asked Mr Hollander nervously, trying to cover my naked body with my hands, despite the fact that he had just watched me fucking right in front of him.

"Mr Finch – Alan - made some fairly outrageous allegations about your behaviour," he said coldly, "and I decided to find out for myself if they were true. It seems that, if anything, he understated the depths of your depravity!" I blushed furiously at this hurtful remark, secretly wondering what it had to do with him in the first place, it wasn't like I was on company premises or doing it in company time.

"Employees in our firm have to be above reproach," he went on, "we deal with highly sensitive, personal and private information. Fraternising with clients is a straight sackable offence!” Oh fuck, he was going to fire me!

“However, I’m sure we can come to an… accommodation.” I watched in astonishment as he unfastened his trousers and brought out his very stiff cock!

“I see that Viagra’s working for you, old man,” Alan sneered. but then he grabbed me, flipping me onto my back and spreading my legs. Suddenly, I felt my boss grab my hair, pull me around on the bed until my head was hanging off the edge and, as I cried out in pain, he forced his erection into my open mouth, reducing my cries to muffled gurgles. Moments later, Alan thrust into my wet, receptive vagina, driving in to the hilt and forcing my legs up into the air and over his shoulders.

This wasn't love-making, and it wasn't a blowjob, I was being fucked hard between my legs and fucked hard in my mouth. As Mr Hollander thrust in, I began to gag repeatedly, making horrible choking noises each time the tip of his penis penetrated too far.

"When you feel yourself about to gag," he growled, "swallow, as if you were drinking water."

He slammed it into me again and I did as I was told, trying to swallow him. To my astonishment, my throat opened up sufficiently for him to force his way in, driving forward until his pubic hair was tickling my nose. Tears sprang to my eyes in response, and I suddenly realised that I couldn't breathe with his cock in my throat! I felt my whole face redden and I started to panic. I was kind of wedged between the two of them, unable to move away and avoid their ‘attentions’. Thankfully, and before I passed out, he pulled back, allowing me to cough, splutter and noisily gasp down a couple of lungfuls of air.

"Again," he barked, and I found my mouth full and my airway blocked once again. This horrible, frightening process was repeated over and over, until I was dizzy and disoriented from the lack of oxygen. It came as a blessed relief when I heard him cry out and felt his hot seed pumping into my throat. As he stepped away from me, Alan was approaching his climax, filling my pussy with his cream as well, before falling back onto the bed. I lay there exhausted, unable to even sit up.

"I think I need one of those Viagra tablets as well now," I heard Alan say, and I groaned - I couldn't believe that this ordeal wasn't over!

Alan got off the bed and a couple of minutes later, Mr Hollander lay down beside me. I looked over and saw that he was lying on his back, his still rock-hard member standing proud like the leaning Tower of Pisa.

"Get on board and ride him," Alan commanded, but I looked at him in dismay.

"Please, Alan, I'm exhausted!" I pleaded, "I can't take any more!" In response, Alan pushed me face down on the bed and pulled my arms behind me. I felt a rope wound around my wrists, pulled tight, biting into them, and tied off. He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, winding the free end of the rope around my face, forcing it between my teeth, stretching my jaws wide.

"When are you going to learn to stop arguing, bitch?" he said, dragging me up and forcing me to straddle the older man, pushing my sore pussy, still dripping his cum, down onto the shaft below me. I let out an incoherent wail as I was fully penetrated once more. Under their threats, I began to move backwards and forwards, up and down, but it wasn't long before my body was once more responding wantonly to the stimulation, and no more threats were required. I let out another cry as I felt my breasts squeezed hard, the nipples pinched and pulled, but it only added to my arousal.

Alan climbed onto the bed behind me and, pushing me forward until my breasts were squashed against the chest of the man below me, thrust his stiff cock hard into my poor, tortured anus, dragging a scream of anguish from my forcibly open mouth. He began banging away at me, making me rock forward and backwards, meaning the cock filling my pussy drove in and out of me as well.

I was being fucked in both cunt and arse, while tied up and rope-gagged, and the effect on me was incredible. With both of my ‘lovers’ now remaining artificially erect, they kept going at me as I was forced to orgasm, then again, and finally a third time, before they eventually let me rest.

Alan untied me, then pulled me off the bed and onto my knees.

"Clean us up, slut," he shouted, and I found both of them standing in front of me, waiting for me to use my mouth on their filthy cocks. One of them smelled of my pussy, the other of my shit, but I licked them clean without argument, alternating between them until there was no sign of cum, pussy juices, or worse. But by that time, both were fully erect once more and, without missing a beat,  I continued using my lips, tongue and fingers to bring them off. At the critical moment, Alan pulled my head back and they both shot their load into my face, coating me in their spunk, which clung to my hair and dripped down onto my breasts.

It was only when I saw Mr Hollander putting his clothes back on that I realised it was finally over. Strangely, I didn't feel relief, but an unexpected disappointment. I felt like I was coming down off some kind of drug which had given me an incredible high but now, as the effects wore off, I felt only anti-climax and a vague depression.

"Thank you for inviting me, Alan," Mr Hollander said, shaking the younger man's hand before turning to me, still kneeling on the carpet, still naked and dirty. "I'll see you in the office on Monday. If you continue to perform like this, I'm sure I can persuade the other partners to keep you on." With that, he left, and I was alone with Alan.

"That was the most incredible experience of my life," I said contentedly. We had taken a shower together, dressed, and were now sitting on the sofa, he with a drink, me with my head in his lap.

"I know it's madness to say this," I went on, "it’s way too early, but… I think I love you, Alan." His reaction was immediate and extreme, to say the least. He pulled my head out of his lap by the hair, and then slapped me hard across the face.

"You stupid bitch!" he shouted, "this isn't love, this is just sex. You're my fuck bunny, nothing more. Say that word to me again and that’s the end of it, understand?"

"Y-yes, Alan, I'm sorry," I replied miserably, rubbing my cheek and feeling the warmth from the slap.

"And another thing, while we're at it," he continued, "I don't like you using my name, like we’re boyfriend and girlfriend or something. In future, you call me ‘Sir’. Or ‘Master’, whichever you prefer."

"Yes… Sir," I responded submissively.

"Now get out!" I looked through the window into the darkness.

"Aren't you going to give me a lift home?" I asked fearfully, before adding "Sir?"

"You're wearing your jogging kit, aren't you?" he sneered, "get out, I've got work in the morning."

He sipped his drink and glared silently at me, making it very clear that I was dismissed. I looked back from the doorway, but he was already reading a script, ignoring me. Feeling desolate, I went out into the dark night and began to jog the miles back to my house. It was three in the morning, so the roads were deserted as I made my way home.

When I collapsed into my bed, the tears finally came. Tears of shame at my behaviour, and tears of outrage at the way I had been treated. My throat, pussy and anus were all sore and aching, while I could see and feel the rope marks on my wrists and across my cheeks.

But, even though I was racked with guilt, shame and humiliation, my fingers quickly made their way between my legs, and I brought myself to another screaming orgasm just on the memories of what had taken place that night. As I finally drifted towards sleep, all I could think about was how to make sure that I could repeat the whole experience again…