Leslie and her boss

It had been about month since Leslie was caught fucking her boss Ben at work by her husband Craig. A lot had changed since that night Leslie had been change sexually since that night by Craig. She had been training to be turned into hot slut wife by Craig. As she got dress for work the thoughts of that night ran through her head as she picked out her outfit for work.

Leslie's fingers lingered over the lace-trimmed black teddy in her drawer before settling on a sheer blouse and pencil skirt that hugged her curves just right. She fastened the buttons just low enough to hint at cleavage, then added a black garter belt beneath her stockings—her secret thrill knowing no one at the office would suspect. The memory of Ben’s hands on her in the supply room sent a shiver down her spine as she applied red lipstick with deliberate precision.

Craig had insisted she wear the remote-controlled vibrator today, and she could already feel the weight of it nestled inside her as she stepped into her heels.

Leslie’s heels clicked against the polished office floor as she stepped off the elevator, her hips swaying just slightly with each step. The morning hum of keyboards and hushed conversations filled the air—just another ordinary day, or so it seemed.

She settled at her desk, adjusting her skirt as she logged into her computer. A stack of reports waited for her, mundane paperwork that should’ve been boring. But the quiet buzz of the vibrator, set to its lowest setting by Craig before she left, kept her nerves alight. Every shift in her chair sent a jolt through her, a reminder of the game they were playing. Ben walked by, his tie perfectly knotted, his expression all business.

The morning went by quickly and after lunch she sits down at her desk. Leslie’s breath hitched when her phone buzzed against her thigh. She glanced at the screen, the simple command from Craig igniting a rush of heat between her legs. Craig’s text read “ Fuck him” .

Ben was at his desk, reviewing a contract with his usual stern focus. She stood, smoothing her skirt before walking toward his office, hips swaying just enough to draw his gaze. When she closed the door behind her, his eyes darkened with recognition.

“Something you need, Leslie?” His voice was controlled, but she saw the way his fingers tightened around his pen.

Leslie leaned against his desk, lips parting as she traced a finger along the edge of his paperwork. "Why yes there is," she purred, her voice dripping with deliberate temptation. "I need to be fucked."

Ben's grip on the pen faltered, his gaze snapping up to meet hers. The air between them crackled with the memory of the supply room—his hands on her hips, her moans muffled against the shelves. Now, here she was, bold as ever, the faint hum of the vibrator beneath her skirt making her thighs tremble just slightly. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping back.

Ben’s breath hitched as Leslie slowly unfastened the remaining buttons of her sheer blouse, letting the fabric fall open to reveal her full, heavy breasts—no bra, just her nipples already peaked with anticipation. His control snapped.

He grabbed her by the waist, spinning her around to press her against the desk. Papers scattered as she arched back into him, her ass grinding against the obvious bulge in his slacks. “You’ve been begging for this since you walked in,” he growled, one hand groping her tit while the other hiked her skirt up to her hips.

Ben stripped Leslie’s of the rest of her clothes only leaving her panties and garter belt and stockings he was surprised to see her , pierced nipples and tattoos. Ben’s fingers tore at Leslie’s skirt just smooth skin interrupted by the dark ink of a delicate rose tattoo curling over her left ribcage and the small tattoo on right ass check that read Craig’s slut. His breath caught at the sight of her pierced nipples, the silver barbells glinting as she arched against him.

“Fuck, Craig’s been busy,” Ben muttered, dragging his thumb over one metal-studded peak. Leslie gasped as he pinched, the vibration between her legs syncing with the sharp pleasure-pain.

Leslie stood there in panties and stockings, the cool office air making her skin prickle as she reached for Ben’s zipper with trembling fingers. His breath came ragged against her neck while she freed his thick cock, stroking him slowly as precum glistened at the tip.

"You’re even wetter than last time," Ben groaned, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks. She smirked, rolling her hips back against him. "Craig likes me ready."

With a rough growl, Ben yanked her panties aside and slammed into her, filling her so deep she cried out—only for his hand to clamp over her mouth. "Quiet, slut.

His hips pistoned against her, each thrust driving her forward against the desk, her breasts pressing into scattered paperwork. The sound of his balls slapping against her slick folds filled the office, rhythmic and obscene, punctuated by the sharp crack of his palm against her ass. Leslie whimpered into his palm, her thighs trembling as the vibrator inside her buzzed in time with his brutal pace.

Ben leaned over her, his breath hot against her ear. "You love this, don't you?

Leslie moaned against his palm, her body arching back to take him deeper. "Yes, I do," she gasped as his hand slid away from her mouth. "I’m such a slut now—fuck me like one. Give me that cock."

Ben snarled in approval, his grip bruising on her hips as he drove into her harder, the desk creaking under their weight. Every thrust sent the vibrator buzzing against her sweet spot, pushing her closer to the edge.

Ben growled low in his throat as he suddenly lifted Leslie onto the desk with a strength that made her gasp. File folders and pens clattered to the floor as he spread her legs wide, draping them over his shoulders with possessive roughness. The new angle made him sink even deeper inside her, the vibrator buzzing mercilessly against her clit as he pinned her hips down.

"Fuck—look at you," Ben hissed, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs as he started pounding into her with renewed intensity. The desk groaned beneath them with each thrust, the leather of his shoes squeaking against the office carpet.

Ben had a clear view of Leslie’s huge, pierced titties bouncing with every brutal thrust, the silver barbells glinting under the office lights. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched her body take him, her moans muffled only by her own teeth sinking into her lower lip.

"I'm gonna fill you up, slut," Ben growled, his voice rough with need. His fingers tightened on her thighs, leaving red marks as he fucked her harder, deeper—each snap of his hips driving her closer to the edge.

Leslie arched her back, her tits heaving as she gasped, "Yes—yes, cum in Ben!

Ben’s rhythm stuttered, his cock twitching deep inside her as his grip on her thighs turned punishing. With a feral groan, he slammed into her one last time, his release flooding her in thick, hot pulses. Leslie whimpered, her own climax crashing over her as the vibrator buzzed mercilessly against her clit, milking every last drop from him.

Ben didn’t let up, fucking her through both their orgasms with short, possessive thrusts, his fingers digging into her flesh as if he could fuse them together. "

Ben didn’t let up, fucking her through both their orgasms with short, possessive thrusts, his fingers digging into her flesh as if he could fuse them together.

Finally, with a grunt, he pulled his softening cock from her cum-filled pussy, glistening strands of their mixed arousal stretching between them before snapping. He looked down at her with dark amusement, watching as she trembled, her thighs still spread obscenely wide.

"You’re such a dirty slut," Ben said, his voice rough with satisfaction as he dragged his thumb through the mess between her legs, then pressed it against her swollen lower lip. "Look at you—so fucking wrecked.

Leslie sucked her fingers clean of Ben’s cum with a lazy smirk, her body still thrumming from the aftershocks of her orgasm. The office smelled like sex, the air thick with the musk of sweat and Ben’s cum dripping from her well-used pussy.

Then she remembered—Craig’s orders. He said for to put her panties back on and bring Ben’s creampie home with her With a shaky exhale, she slid off the desk, her. legs nearly buckling as she reached for her discarded panties.

Leslie slid her ruined panties back up, the damp fabric pressing against her swollen lips, sealing Ben’s cum inside just as Craig preferred. She could feel it—thick and warm—as she adjusted the lace, biting her lip at the lewd squelch.

Ben smirked, watching her tuck herself back into her garter belt with deliberate slowness. "Still following orders, huh?" He reached out, giving her ass a sharp smack that made her gasp. "Tell your husband he owes me for breaking you in so well."

Leslie smoothed her skirt, her thighs still sticky, and shot him a wicked grin. "Oh, he knows."

Leslie straightened her skirt with trembling fingers, the fabric clinging to her damp thighs as she gave Ben one last sultry glance before slipping out of his office. The walk back to her own workspace felt impossibly long, every step making her hyper-aware of Ben’s cum seeping through her ruined panties, the wet lace rubbing against her oversensitive flesh.

Once inside her office, she locked the door and leaned back against it, exhaling shakily. Her fingers hooked under her skirt, peeling the soaked fabric aside to expose her glistening, well-fucked pussy.

Leslie’s phone was already in her hand, her breath shallow as she angled the camera between her thighs. The flash illuminated her glistening folds, the creamy evidence of Ben’s release still oozing from her stretched hole. She bit her lip as she snapped the photo—raw, unfiltered, the perfect proof of her obedience.

Her thumbs flew over the screen. "Done. Still full of him." She attached the image, hesitated for just a second, then added: "Should I clean up… or leave it?"

The reply came instantly. "Leave it. I want to add to it tonight." A shiver ran down her spine.

Leslie's breath hitched as she read Craig's message, her fingers instinctively sliding between her thighs to smear Ben's cum across her swollen lips. The thought of Craig taking her tonight—fucking her while she was still stretched open and dripping with another man's seed—made her clit throb with fresh need.

She could already imagine it: Craig's possessive grip on her hips, his cock driving into her used pussy, reclaiming her even as Ben's cum inside of her. The filthy fantasy made her whimper, her hips rocking slightly against her own touch.

Her phone buzzed again. "Don’t touch yourself.”

Leslie whimpered at the command, her fingers twitching against her damp skin. Damn, I was getting horny again. She could feel Ben’s cum still warm inside her, a slick reminder of what she’d just done—what Craig had ordered her to do. The thought of being denied, of having to wait until tonight with Craig’s hands on her, made her thighs tremble.

She **** herself to pull her hand away, smoothing her skirt back down over her sticky thighs. Her panties were ruined, her garter belt clinging to her damp skin, but she didn’t dare adjust them.

Leslie’s hard nipples pressed shamelessly against the sheer lace of her bra, the peaks stiff and aching. The office air conditioning did nothing to soothe the heat radiating through her body—if anything, the cool air made her more aware of every **** throb between her legs, every sticky shift of Ben’s cum as she squirmed in her chair.

She mutter to herself, 5 o’clock can’t get here fast enough.