The Factory

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It had been a tortuous week. The architectural department I managed had been under dire stress, working to meet a submittal deadline for a high profile office tower in Baltimore, and the final sets of plans were streaming off the plotters now. Most of the staff had already departed the office, headed to happy hour at Leo’s, the local watering hole, to toast another job well done. I was planning to follow to pick up the first round, in gratitude for their hard work. It was my duty, though, to see the plans out the door, just in case there were any last minute glitches.

The architectural department was housed in the older wing of our building. What had once been a tomato cannery had undergone a dramatic resurrection as one of the company’s first projects, and remnants of the building’s former use were incorporated into the design of what was now a large, airy architectural shop. Heavy beams supported antique pulley drives as a sort of industrial memorabilia, belts and motors long gone, and fragments of drive chain and huge old switches decorated odd niches in the otherwise modern office. Individual offices and a conference room surrounded the main design floor, and many, like mine, harbored heavy ceiling beams and angled beam supports. If not for the bright office lighting and furniture, my office in particular would be reminiscent of an old barn or factory. In fact, most employees referred to the architectural wing as “The Factory”.

As the techs prepared the plans for delivery, you brought the transmittal forms into my office for my signature. As the most junior member of the design staff, you were often relegated the least glamorous and mundane tasks, but it’s to your credit that you always performed them with cheerful efficiency. Your cheery and curvaceous exterior hid what I suspected was a surprising intellect and a strong ambition. In fact, you were obvious in your attempts to draw as much management attention to yourself as possible, including dressing just inside the office dress code and flirting with as many of the managers as you could, in addition to performing your job well. Because of this, you were the subject of many lustful conversations at “business” lunches and around the water cooler. Throughout the last several weeks, as busy as we were, I had taken to flirting back with you like a fish rising to a fly, and you had responded by increasing the level of teasing. Things between us had escalated to the point where I was hypersensitive to your presence, and I grasped every opportunity to touch you casually or rub up against you in passing. Visions of you fueled my every waking fantasy, and I was drawn to you more than I would have cared to admit.

You were dressed especially provocatively today, with a tight skirt that only reached mid-thigh, and a low-cut buttoned knit top that showed off your breasts. You obviously wore a push-up bra, and I wondered if your choice in clothing was a result of the anticipated happy hour tonight, or if tormenting me was your main purpose. You dropped the transmittals onto my desk, then leaned over and placed your hands on my desktop, looking up at me coyly through long lashes and knowingly providing a view deep into your exposed cleavage.

“Is there anything else you might need?” you asked with a suggestive grin.

The decompression of the afternoon was taking hold, and the anticipation of a cold beer had me ready to go, but I couldn’t let this opportunity pass by.

“Yes,” I replied as I signed the forms, “come back and let me know when the plans have actually left the building.”

You stood up and, smiling, gave me a mock salute before turning to leave my office. I knew that the techs would leave with the plans, and we would likely be the only people left in the building. Your hips swayed enticingly in your skirt, and your patterned stockings and heels made your legs delicious. I took a moment to fully appreciate the view, as you no doubt knew I would. You tease! The heat in my groin flared, and my member twitched in response. My desire for you was becoming overwhelming, and I was determined to see what would happen if you were pushed.

Silence settled over the building, broken occasionally by the opening and closing of the distant entrance doors. Several minutes in silence, and I heard the sound of your high heels on the carpet in the walkway, quickly approaching. As you walked through the open doorway into my office,

“They’re gone,” you said in a silly, sing-song voice.

I wasn’t quite sure if you meant the plans, or the other workers. In a fraction of a second, I noticed that you had freshened your make-up and let your red curls down to fall a little loosely around your face, possibly in preparation for meeting the other employees at the bar. I got up from behind my desk and walked toward you.

“Are you going to Leo’s? Would you care to ride with me?”

I asked the second question without waiting for you answer the first. As I reached past sultangazi escort you to retrieve my jacket from its wall hook, I leaned so close to you that I could tell you had freshened your cologne as well, and you smelled delightful.

“Sure!” you answered, smiling.

I took that to mean yes to both questions. But before I donned my jacket you moved toward me and reached up to touch my tie at my throat.

“You are going to have to lose this if you expect yourself, or anyone else, to relax,” you said playfully, gently loosening my silk tie and pulling it off over my head, giving me a wicked little grin in the process.

That was the opening I had been hoping for. I firmly held both your small hands in my left one, and quickly flipped the loop of the tie over them, pulling it tight with my right hand. I immediately picked your hands up over her head and stepped backwards, pulling you off balance and forcing you to quickly step toward me to keep from falling. In two steps we had moved directly under a support beam that brandished an iron hook, driven in deeply years before for some unknown purpose. Two quick motions secured my tie in two half hitches around that hook, and I threw an extra loop around your wrists for good measure. Glancing down at the shocked look on your reddening face, I saw the realization of your predicament sink in. Your shock was short-lived however, and you quickly recovered and managed a sweet smile.

“So, what are you going to do now?” you asked.

With that, I walked over and quietly closed my office door, and turned back to you.

“No more conversation!”

I spoke a little sharply, and your smile faded just a touch. I took a moment then to really observe my prize. Your hands were straight above your head, pulling your body taut and holding you nearly immobile. You looked so beautiful, and so vulnerable that I almost walked over to let you go. But my eyes traveled down your body, drinking in your clinging top and tight skirt and the curves they defined. My gaze swept down your legs, taking in the pattern of your fishnets, your shapely calves and those sexy black high heels. The need in me took over, and I knew there would be no satisfaction for me until I had taken you, completely. You held your head high, and I wasn’t sure if it was confidence or defiance that held sway in your eyes, but there was also a hint of eagerness, a slight spark of desire. I locked my gaze with yours, and slowly walked to you.

You were a full head shorter than me, and as I leaned over to look deep into your eyes, I curled the fingers of my left hand and lightly touched the back of them to your throat, brushing them upward into your soft hair. I encircled the back of your head with my hand, pulling your face up to meet mine, and our lips met. Softly at first, I explored the exquisite softness of your lips with my own, inhaling deeply the mixed scent of your hair, your cologne, your skin, your breath. I drew back for only a moment to glimpse your half-lidded eyes and parted lips, then crushed your lips to mine fiercely. I was not about to let your softness and utter desirability intoxicate me into betraying my needs to tenderness. But your lips met my own with an equal force, our tongues tangling in a wet dance, and only the need to breathe tore my mouth from yours.

I moved both hands to cup your face, and continued to indulge myself in your mouth, using my hands to position your face to give me the best access to your mouth and neck. My hands dropped and moved behind you to caress you back, my left hand sliding upward to continue cupping your head, forcing your mouth onto mine. My right hand slid slowly over the small of your back, down across your skirt, traversing your backside to your hip, then moving upward along your side to your armpit and shoulder and back down again, nearly touching your breast as I learned the curves of your body. Your breathing grew deeper and you made no move to resist as I continued the embrace. You wantonly kissed me back, pressing your body to contact mine as much as your precarious position would allow. Your mouth was delicious, and without warning I grasped your lower lip in my teeth, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to remind you I was in control, and would do with you as I pleased. A quiet moan escaped your lips, your eyes closed completely. I could feel my cock begin to harden, and backed away only enough to allow it room to adjust its position.

I skimmed my lips down your face, across your hot throat, and I could feel you’re the beats of your pulse driving in your neck. Both my hands rubbed over your back, taking in your curves, and feeling the way your muscles bunched and stretched because of your bindings. I worried briefly about your comfort, but then pushed those thoughts back, and allowed my lust free reign again. This was my payment for your casual and continued flirtation, and I would have arnavutköy escort my pound of your flesh. The fact that you seemed to be relishing your treatment only pushed me on.

I brought my hand around to your chest and explored your breasts through your clothes. Your bra contained them firmly, and I could feel nothing beneath its covering. My fingers wandered to your cleavage, and I traced the cleft up, and down, luxuriating in the warmth and silkiness of your skin. I continued my hand’s downward movement, encountering the first of your buttons, and I quickly pushed it back through its hole, allowing your top to open slightly. My hand continued its mission, finding and dispatching each button in turn, sliding against the soft skin of your stretched tummy and across your navel, and your top fell open under my efforts. Your bra was black satin, with little adornment, designed for its function of enhancing your figure, and I was delighted to see it was a front-clasp type. Without hesitation, my right hand undid the clasp, and your breasts sprang free of their containment as the cups fell to the sides.

If I had been in a more accommodating mood, I would have told you that your breasts were beautiful, your skin translucent, your rosy pink nipples delicate and inviting. But the heat in me denied any tenderness or compliment, and I wanted only to feel your erect nipples in my mouth. I leaned down and grasped your tits, one in each hand, and kneaded their firmness, working my way outward to roll your nipples with my fingers and thumbs. You looked down at my hands and gave a little moan as you observed my ministrations. I took my time, moving my hands back from your nipples to fully grasp your breasts, then forward to manipulate your nipples again, your eyes never leaving my hands. I bent forward and firmly guided one breast to my mouth, sucking the nipple in between my lips and swirling my tongue hard around it. It swelled until it seemed it would burst, and I grasped the nub with my lips, tugging it outward from your breast until it popped from my mouth with an audible sound. It was dark pink from my suction, and I brought your tit and my mouth together again, this time biting you, sliding the nipple through my teeth until the end caught, stretching your skin. I did this several times, then switched sides, playing the same game with the opposite breast, all the while your moans increasing in volume and frequency.

I released your inflamed nipples, and, slowly lowering myself to my knees, kissing and sucking my way down your stomach, taking a moment to increase the pressure to leave a love-bite next to your belly button. I slipped my hands around the waistband of your skirt to find the zipper on the side, pulling it down in one swift motion. Grasping the hemline of your skirt, I slowly pulled the snug garment down over the curves of your hips, staring as each inch of you was exposed to my hungry eyes. The skirt slipped down, gradually revealing hip-hugging black lace panties, sheer enough for me to see that you were shaved clean beneath the thin fabric. As your skirt fell down your legs of its own weight and pooled around your high heels, it uncovered your thigh-high stockings, firmly held in place by the knit bands around their tops, accenting the smooth pale skin of your thighs. I left your skirt where it fell and grasped the tops of your panties. Slowly, I peeled them down over your hips, noting with pleasured anticipation the dampness of the fabric over your mound. My face was close to you, and the heat of your skin radiated outward, carrying with it the faint scent of your arousal, musky and sweet, tinged with your cologne. I knew you must have dabbed a bit of your perfume around your pussy, anticipating…what? Certainly not this! Or was I going to be the target of your seduction tonight?

This suspicion hardened my resolve to continue to control the situation, and to take my pleasure from you as I wanted. I grasped one of your ankles to pick up your foot, then the other, placing your skirt on the carpet in front of you to cushion my knees, while at the same time moving your feet apart to widen your stance. This dropped your body slightly, increasing the pressure on your arms, and stretching your body even more taut. You stood in front of me clad from the waist down in only stockings and heels, your top gaping open to expose smooth skin from chin to thigh. You looked delicious, your face flushed, nipples still dark from my suckling and nibbling. You moaned again, this time a little from the discomfort in your arms. I knelt in front of you, reaching behind to run my hands up the backs of your calves, over your thighs to cup your ass. This drew you closer to me, and your sweet scent intensified, filling my nostrils and causing my prick to harden to its full length in my slacks.

I gazed at your pussy just inches from my face. Your outer lips were puffy, smooth and completely başakşehir escort hairless. You must have waxed recently, and once again I wondered what it was that you were anticipating. Your inner labia protruded slightly, slick with moisture. As I looked at your pussy, a single thick droplet slowly trickled down your inner thigh, a clear indication of the level of your arousal. I slowly closed the distance between us, touching only the tip of my tongue to your slick lips, getting my first taste of you. It was intoxicating, sweeping through me like a brushfire, and without ceremony I buried my face in your sex, lapping at your cunt like a crazed man, swallowing as much of your sweetness as I could find. I licked all over your lips, then burrowed my tongue between them, probing your dripping depths. Finally, I worked my way up to your swollen clit. I spread your labia open with one hand so I could see your pink button poking out from beneath its hood, and I lowered my lips to touch it. As I did, you moaned, a low animal sound that rose to a keening cry, as if this was everything you had been waiting for. I surrounded your clitoris with firm, rapid strokes of my tongue, never quite touching your hotspot, and your hips moved as if trying to get me to apply pressure to the button itself. Your juices flowed lavishly, coating my chin and dripping down my neck. I had never touched a woman as wet as you. After playing the cat and mouse game with your clit for long, drenched minutes, I moved my other hand to your pussy, and positioned my index finger at your entrance. As I slid my finger as far as I could into your soaked cunt, I sucked your clit in between my lips, flicking it rapidly but softly with my tongue.

Another cry left your mouth, rising in pitch and changing to a hissed exhalation. I moved my finger in and out of your pussy, the wet sounds of the motions causing my hard cock to throb in my pants. A second finger joined the first and continued slipping in and out of your folds. I then curled my fingers and began stroking the raised bump of your G-spot, eliciting a series of short, breathy “ohs” in time with my strokes, and I massaged your clit firmly with my tongue. In short moments, your stomach and thighs tightened and an almost-scream filled the air as your pussy clenched around my fingers. Copious quantities of fluid rushed from your cunt, running over my hand and dripping from my wrist onto the carpet beneath you. I continued my motions until you gasped.

“No, no, no, no, no,” you cried, over and over. When I removed my fingers from your opening, you squealed and slumped against your silk bindings, your eyes closed and your chest heaving as you breathed.

I stood and reached above your head to release your arms, leaving your hands tied together. Your arms fell around my neck, and your face turned up to me. As your mouth searched for mine, I grazed my chin, still slick with your juices, across your lips, then claimed your mouth in a hard kiss, pulling you close against my chest. Our tongues entwined, and the taste of your pussy mingled with that of your mouth. Abruptly, I pulled away and lowered my head, slipping out from between your bound wrists. Before you could recover, I grasped your shoulder and pushed you downward until you knelt on your skirt and panties lying on the floor. I knelt beside you and swiftly passed the free end of my tie between your legs, pulling it out through the back and securing it to the closest leg of my desk. This limited your range of movement, and secured your hands down close to your vagina. With a satisfied chuckle, I rose.

“What…” you started to speak, looking up at me, and I cut you off.

“Stay quiet!” I commanded.

Without another word, I unbuckled my belt. I casually released the button on my slacks, and lowered the zipper, then stepped out of them. A dark spot on the front of my briefs showed where the pre-cum had been leaking from my stiff cock as I was eating you, and I quickly removed the damp garment, allowing my hard cock to spring free. With one step, I brought my cock close to your face, and your gaze dropped to take it in, knowing what it was that I wanted.

“Lick my balls,” I said in a low growl, and I grasped a handful of your red hair, guiding your mouth to my sack.

Your breath was warm and your tongue soft and searing against the sensitive, wrinkled skin of my scrotum. You did as I commanded, covering the entire bag with long, slow strokes of your tongue, swirling around each sensitive testicle in turn, sending a chill up my spine. Backing away slightly, I grasped my erect cock at the base and guided your mouth to it. Your lips slipped down over the swollen head, your tongue finding the tiny slit with its waiting pearl of pre-cum, and you briefly sucked me hard as you tasted the fluid. Your mouth slipped further down my shaft, tongue swirling around me, and I entwined my other hand in your shining hair. I gently pulled your mouth all the way down my cock to the base, then allowed you to pull back, allowing you to breathe deeply and swallow the saliva that had gathered around my dick in your mouth. I once again guided your mouth down over me, setting up a slow steady rhythm of my cock sliding in and out between your lips. You looked up at me occasionally as if to gauge my arousal.

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