Shamed

by Theresa Taylor

  She felt his hands on her buttocks, spreading them, touching her most intimate of places.

  “Hold on to those balls.” He reminded her. She was struggling to do so, her muscles exhausted with the constant battle to restrain them, her own arousal supplying copious amounts of her juices to help fuel their escape.

  He used his fingers to smear her own lubricant up to her anus, his touch making her groan, a wave of uncontrollable desire sent flooding through her body, then a moment of doubt as she felt the head of his penis push between her labia and rise up between them until it emerged and drew level with her asshole.

  “Please! I don’t think I can...”

  He pressed down on her, the head hard against her clenched muscle, then gripped her hips and pulled her back against him. She was in the middle of a word when it dissolved into guttural squeal that came from deep within her. She felt herself part, a moment of renewed resistance, then he was in her, driving his shaft in short strokes. He filled her. The heavy balls in her cunt felt like they were swimming around in a sea of fluid as her vaginal and anal muscles seemingly went into competition and his thrusting cock appeared to scatter them with each penetration. Her anus was smarting from being stretched and yet the sensation was one of undeniable pleasure.

  Her head was swimming now and blood rushed in her ears. She lost all concept of place and time. Her orgasm roared through her body debilitating her senses other than those directly involved in her climax. She was driving herself back onto him, her face contorted in an animalistic grimace, teeth bared, eyes screwed shut.

  She felt his rhythm break for a second and suddenly he was expelling his fluid into her, twitching uncontrollably inside her. Her orgasm gripped hard within her belly and she squealed aloud as the heavy golf balls started to propel from within her – giving her an indescribable sensation as the balls ejected from her vagina at the same moment as he drove deep into her anus.

  Exhausted she fell forward onto the couch. Her breath coming in short gasps. McDonnell was already dressing himself and had returned to his desk to place the sodden golden golf balls back on their plinth. He gathered his jacket and then stood by her as he slipped it on.

  “I trust Samantha,” he said “That we’ll have no more repeats of your incompetence?”

  She lay there on her side looking over her shoulder at him, unable to speak and watched him leave the office.

  Some moments later Hilary walked in. It startled Samantha but Hilary seemed to show no reaction to Samantha’s state or nakedness. She simply, efficiently gathered Samantha’s clothes and took them to her. With no hint of sympathy she spilled them onto the couch and walked out again.

  Samantha dressed quietly, alone in the office. She felt filthy, covered in sweat, semen and her own secretions. As she paused at the door she felt a trickle of McDonnell’s cum seep from inside her. As she walked out of the office Hilary turned to look at her.

  “Mr McDonnell left these for you to collect.” She said holding out a manila folder. Samantha guessed it was a letter giving her notice. She took it and then trudged dejectedly towards the elevator.

  Once inside she pressed for the garage and as she leaned back against the wall, her face despondent, she flipped open the folder. Inside were the Carson documents that accounted for the missing funds.

  “You bastard!” Samantha said in disbelief. “You had them the whole time.”

  A week later Samantha was sat at her desk, having completed the initial portfolio for a new customers account – Geddon Holdings. This was a big one and McDonnell would be pleased with her expert handling of the account so far. Lounging back in her chair sipping coffee, a devious smirk spread across her face.

  She reached forward, picked up the desk phone and dialled an internal number; 1550.

  The phone rang twice before it was answered.

  “Hilary Carney, PA to Stuart McDonnell.”

  “Hi Hilary, it’s Samantha Clark. Can you just let Stuart know that I’m having a bit of a problem with the Geddon account. I seem to have lost some files.”

  The End

  Thank you for reading Shamed by Theresa Taylor

  Contact Theresa Taylor at:

  taylormadestory@yahoo.co.uk

  Table of Contents

  Taken Aboard

  The House Cleaner

  The Ruse

  The Stain

  The Trading of Nera

  Colours

  Home Alone

  Dressed For The Part

  Lena’s Humiliation

  Unaccountable