No Turn Back

I'm on the way after work with the train in late night, it's pretty dangerous for a busty woman like me to go home this late. But as the head of the company, I have to deal with all the shit.

The train stops at a desolate station, the lights flicker as if they're about to die any second. I sigh, checking my watch. It's almost midnight. I should be home by now, but no, the damn train is always late.

I decide to use the restroom before the next station, the doors screech open and the cool air from the toilet hits me. The floor is sticky, the walls are grimy, and the smell of piss and bleach fills my nostrils. The bathroom is empty except for the echo of my heels clicking against the tiles.

I enter the stall and lock the door, feeling a bit relieved. But before I could even sit down, I feel something heavy smack into my back. It's a man, a fucking pervert in a hoodie, pushing me down onto the toilet seat. I scream, but it's muffled by his hand. He rips my skirt up, tears my pantyhose, and pulls my panties down around my ankles. His cock is hard, pressing into my ass as he whispers, "You're going to love this, boss lady."

I try to fight, but he's too strong. He pushes my head down into the toilet bowl, making me gag and sputter. "You're going to take all of us, slut," he says, and before I know it, there are more hands on me, grabbing my tits, slapping my ass.

I realize there are three of them, all laughing and jeering as they pull my panties down to my ankles. One of them has his dick out, stroking it in front of my face. "You're going to suck us all off, then we're going to fuck your tight little pussy," he says.

I struggle, but it's no use. They're too strong, too fast. They're all over me, ripping my blouse open, unbuttoning my skirt. One of them slaps my face, leaving a stinging handprint, and says, "You're going to be our little slut tonight, aren't you?"

I'm crying now, begging them to stop, but they just laugh and push my face down into the toilet bowl again. The first one shoves his cock into my mouth, and I gag on it. He fucks my mouth hard, pushing it down my throat until I can't breathe.

The second one climbs onto the toilet and enters me from behind, tearing my pussy open. I scream around the cock in my mouth as he starts to pound into me, the pain making stars dance in my vision. The third one grabs my hair and forces me to look at him as he shoves his dick into my eye. "Look at me, slut," he says, "Look at how much you want this."

I try to struggle, to push him away, but it's useless. They're too strong, and my body is too weak from the fear and the pain. They keep fucking me, switching places, using my mouth, my pussy, my ass, not giving me a moment's rest. They're like animals, grunting and snarling, slapping and biting.

After what feels like hours, they finally cum, filling me up with their hot seed. They pull out, and I collapse onto the floor, sobbing. But it's not over. They grab me by the arms and pull me up, forcing me to lean against the wall. "We're not done with you yet, boss," one of them says, and I feel another cock slide into me.

They take turns, each one rougher than the last. They spit on me, slap me, call me names. I'm just a toy to them, a thing to be used and abused. And the worst part is, as the night goes on, as they keep fucking me and filling me with their cum, I start to feel something else.

It starts as a small tingle, a little spark of pleasure amidst the pain. And as they go on, it grows. They're so rough, so violent, and something in me responds to it. I start to moan around their cocks, my body betraying me.

"Look at her, she's loving it," one of them says, and they all laugh. I hate them for it, but I can't stop the moan that escapes my lips as they pump into me.

By the time the last one cums, I'm a mess. My makeup is smeared, my hair is a tangled mess, and my clothes are in tatters. They all laugh as they leave, zipping up their pants and disappearing into the night.

I clean myself up as best as I can and stumble out of the bathroom, trying to hold back the tears. But as I walk home, I can't shake the feeling that's started to build inside me. It's like I've been awakened to something dark and twisted, something that I never knew I wanted.

The next day at work, I find myself thinking about it. The pain, the humiliation, the way they used me. And the strange, twisted pleasure that had started to take root in my body.

That night, I wear something sexier to work, a low-cut blouse and a shorter skirt. I'm not sure why, but I feel like I need it. Like I'm calling out to them, begging for more.

And sure enough, as I'm leaving the office, the same three men are waiting for me. They drag me into the stairwell and start again. This time, I don't fight as much. I let them do what they want, let them use me how they please. And when they cum inside me, I don't hate it.

Days turn into weeks, and the rapes become a part of my routine. Every night, after work, I'd go to the same bathroom, wearing something even sexier. Fishnet stockings, a g-string, a miniskirt so short it might as well not be there. And every night, they'd be waiting for me.

I start to crave it, the feeling of their cocks stretching me open, the way they fill me up and then leave me empty. I start to enjoy the pain, the way it makes me feel alive. And when they cum inside me, I feel like I'm complete.

I stop fighting them, stop trying to escape. I start to move my body with theirs, to moan and beg for more. They laugh, but they give it to me. They fuck me harder, deeper, until I'm screaming with pleasure.

I start to dress for them, wearing outfits that make me look like a whore. I want them to want me, to need me. And every night, they do. They take turns, using every hole, filling me up until I can't take anymore.

One day, the boss comes into my office. "I've noticed a change in you," he says, his eyes traveling over my body. "You've been dressing differently."

I blush, aware of how low-cut my blouse is. "It's just... I've been feeling... different."

He steps closer, his hand reaching out to trace the line of my cleavage. "Different how?"

"I don't know," I murmur, looking up at him through my lashes. "More... open."

He smirks. "Open to what?"

I swallow hard, my heart racing. "Anything."

He takes that as an invitation, pushing me back onto my desk and tearing my panties off. He's inside me in seconds, fucking me hard and fast. I'm surprised by how much I like it, how much I need it.

After that, it's not just the three of them anymore. It's everyone. My colleagues, my employees, even the janitors. They all know what I am now, what I've become. And they all want a piece of me.

I give it to them willingly, eagerly. I spread my legs for anyone who wants me, let them fuck me on the conference table, in the supply closet, in the elevator. I'm a slut, and I love it.

The days blur together, a never-ending cycle of work and ****. But it's not **** anymore, not really. It's what I live for. It's what makes me feel alive. And every time someone cums inside me, I feel like I'm being reborn.

I'm the office slut, the company whore. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

One night, as I'm being gangbanged in the stairwell, I feel something new. It's more than just pleasure, more than just the high of being used. It's like I'm finally home. Like this is where I belong.

As they fill me with their cum, as I feel the warmth spread through my body, I know that I've found my place. And I never want to leave it.

The next day, I wear a skirt so short you can almost see my ass cheeks. I wear a shirt that barely covers my tits, and no bra. I strut through the office, my nipples hard and my pussy wet.

Everyone stares, everyone wants me. And I give it to them. I sit on laps, let them feel me up, let them whisper dirty things in my ear. And every time someone suggests we go to the bathroom, I just smile and nod.

Because now, I know what I am. I'm not just the boss anymore. I'm the toy, the cumdumpster, the slut who can't get enough. And as I sit at my desk, feeling the aftermath of my latest round of ****, I can't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction.

This is my life now. And I've never been happier.