Tiffany Heads Downstairs

The service elevator almost felt like it came too fast. Natalie and Omar had left Tiffany to wait for it to return and take her back downstairs.

Tiffany had spent the time redoing her hair in the mirror, finding a make-up kit she touched hers up, removing eye liner that had run when she gagged in the cock, and then rid herself of her wet panties. She didn't want to chance them being in the way should she get a lucky break and a quickie presents itself.

She stepped on the elevator and watched it close on the room of her violation.

Shock and wonder descended upon Tiffany as rational thought creeped back into her mind.

With Omar and Natalie's departure the pheromones that helped fuel Tiffany's loss of inhibitions, and now she was in an elevator devoid of them.

She was assaulted. That security guard, and that maid had violated her. With his twisted, malformed body, his cock was **** into her, and she was **** deep onto it.

And she liked it.

No, she loved it.

As Tiffany thought about what had happened she felt herself getting wet again. Her hands felt her up without any thought.

Her fingers were curling under the edge of her skirt...

Tiffany jumped as the elevator doors suddenly opened on the ground floor. As she stepped out she stalled for a moment, unsure of where she wanted to go.

Glancing in a mirror for a moment she thought about how her make-up appeared almost gothic compared to this morning.

Something felt not right about it. As if it wasn't her but some sort of impression taking over.

Turning away from the mirror she swore she felt a presence, she froze in fear for a moment before a familiar sensation creeped across her shoulders.

Tiffany closed her eyes, humming in delight as she tilted her head feeling light feminine kisses travel up her nape.

She could feel the hand travelling her curves, while something else brushed up the inside of her leg, triggering electric surges of pleasure that made her enjoyment of the blowjob pale.

Turning her head Tiffany blindly exchanged tongues, until she opened her eyes to find her phantom groper not there.

Turning around Tiffany found herself fully alone, a note scrawled in fog on the mirror.

Our Pleasure Is With You.

Wiping it off Tiffany smiled at the vibrant yellow now adorning her lips. It was hardly an appropriate shade for work, more something seen in a nightclub, its contrast outrageous against her skin and otherwise goth like make-up.

Turning down the corridor Tiffany set about getting back to work. She had people to see, reservations to change, and new thoughts to consider.

A new sexual curiosity had taken root, and Tiffany found herself stuck thinking about this newly discovered fetish. If not desiring to explore it more.