Ricky

The phone keeps shrilling, each ring a needle under Nicole’s skin. She’s still strapped in, the silicone shaft buried to the root in Brittney’s ass, the girl’s body limp and twitching through the aftershocks. With a grunt, Nicole pulls out slow, deliberate, the wet schlop loud in the quiet lobby. Brittney’s hole gapes for a second, pink and glistening, before clenching shut. Nicole unbuckles the harness with practiced flicks, letting the heavy toy clatter onto the desk beside Brittney’s sweat-slick cheek.

She snatches her panties from the floor black lace, still warm and steps into them, the fabric snapping against her hips as she yanks them up. The blouse follows, buttons sliding home with sharp clicks. By the time she lifts the receiver, her breathing is steady, voice cool as the AC.

“Hello, Ricky. Need something?”

Ricky’s voice crackles through, all business. “Got off-site meetings the rest of the day. When you’re done playing, swing by my office. I’ll dump the to-do list on you, then you can work remote just have it done by tomorrow.”

Nicole’s gaze drops to Brittney, sprawled half off the desk, thighs trembling, cum and juices streaking her skin like war paint. With one casual shove of her heel, Nicole pushes the girl fully onto the carpet. Brittney lands with a soft thud, a whimper escaping before she bites it back.

“Of course,” Nicole says, sliding into her chair, fingers already flying across the keyboard. “I’ll be right in. Might knock the work out tonight, though something urgent just came up.” She glances down; Brittney’s staring up, eyes wide, lips swollen. If she thinks we’re finished, she’s dumber than the bleach in her hair.

Ricky chuckles. “No problem at all.”

Click. Nicole hangs up, scribbles a quick note 'Brittney: photo from car, hair untouched; driver 7pm, The Britely', then stands. She towers over the girl on the floor, skirt smoothed, blouse tucked, every inch the polished gatekeeper again.

“Get your ass dressed,” she snaps. “I’ve got to brief with Ricky. Then we’re leaving you’re finishing what you started in the car. After that, I drop you wherever you need to be to meet him tonight. Got it, slut?”

Brittney nods, frantic, scrambling for her scattered clothes. Nicole watches her fumble with the jeans, the sticky panties, the cum-crusted hair, and smiles (sharp, satisfied).