Not all the way. Not yet.

You're lost in the cosmic swirl that lies just before unconsciousness when he finally cums.

You no longer feel the burning of your lungs and your body has become fully limp in Mr Williams' grip, every sensation feels distant, even your orgasm that makes your loose body spasm as his dick continues to be hammered in and out of your throat. You feel the hot splash of his release in the back of your neck and the pulse of the cock in your mouth, but there is no gag reflex, no panic, just a low moan as the air you need is denied in favour of the cum you deserve.

It actually takes you a moment or two to breathe again when he pulls you up and off his cock. You reflexively try to swallow a few times but your body has already obediently taken the full of his load and you are gulping at nothing. When at last you do breathe in the fire returns to your lungs and you feel the full electric charge of your arousal. A short cry erases what little air you had just claimed as you orgasm again, Mr Williams letting you drop to the floor where you shudder and ache, your fingers pushing your tiny skirt up as they move to reach under your soaking thong. Your fingers feel pathetic compared to the violation Mr Williams inflicted on you though, and you pine in need, staring up at him through watery eyes.

"Clean the mess you made," is his only reply, scolding you like your a little girl.

You don't understand at first but then you see the foot he has placed closer to your face, the dark leather glistening with your body's fluids. Even if they are inadequate you cannot bring yourself to take your fingers away from your kitty, so as you roll onto your knees and prostrate yourself, your tongue reaching out to lick your own juices from Mr Williams' shoes you look extra perverse.

It is a view Mr Williams is certainly appreciating, drawing his phone out as he films you work. Your long dark hair spills all around your body, pooling on the floor with the way your head is bowed. Your large breasts scrape at the ground while your thong clad ass is thrust in the air, wiggling from the effort of your fingers.

Your panting and moaning increases too. The degradation is exciting you. When he tells you to sit up your heart freezes on seeing him filming you, a terror at anyone seeing footage of you prostrate and moaning as you like an older man's shoe. The thought makes you tremble and crave an orgasm you can't give yourself. Self consciously you arch your back and thrust your breasts out, posing for whatever pictures or video he's taking.

"Very good Kiddo," he praises, zipping himself back up with one hand while patting your head with the other. "Your Daddy and I are going to have a LOT to talk about. The ladies here are going to help you clean up and then we'll see about getting you back to the office."