LUST AND RUIN: A Hot collection of Fetishes.

LINDA'S POV

The collection of files flew across my office, the branded ones taking a different route from the unbranded materials. “Do that again, and this time be smart,” I yelled. My voice bounced back in echoes. He looked down at the flood of his hard work scattered across the shiny tiles. I studied his face for a reaction. There was none.

“I’ll do as you’ve asked, ma’am,” he replied, his voice shaky but audible. His glasses slid off his nose; he adjusted them, crinkling his chisel-shaped nose like it could somehow catch them.

His knees kissed the floor as he tried to put together what was left of the proposal document I had asked him to reprint for the sixth time. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said with a slow bow, head locked between his wide shoulders. I gave a passive wave that meant get out of my office. My waist leaning into my massive office chair, as I reminisced on the call I had received earlier, announcing the passing of my aunty.

I let out a deep sigh, unlocking my legs. Maybe I was crazy, but treating him that way made my nipples harden. The look of his innocence tore up my walls all the way to my core.

He was an intern, newly enrolled, but somehow I had managed to bully him from the very second day he came to work. It was my way of fulfilling my secret desires, which involved finger-fucking myself to thoughts of his innocent face buried between my legs, his tongue diving deep into my fat, plump pussy.

Despite all the mistreatment, he never seemed to have any reaction whatsoever on his face. His responses were monotonous—in a way I found arousing. “Fuck, I’m wet again,” I sighed, rolling my eyes. I watched him from my large glass partition. His face was buried in his laptop the way I needed it buried between my thighs, struggling to reach the surface for air.

 The screen reflected his nerdy innocence. His eyes found mine, darting back and forth, crouching like he was bowing to me even from the distance. Sweet boy, I muttered under my breath. My pussy rejoiced once more with a grip I was accustomed to. I opened my laptop; the screen brightened up on my face. I had work to do.

I cracked my neck, eyes tightly shut. “Ouch!” I screamed as the tension released. “Shoot!” I exclaimed as my eyes caught the giant clock on the wall. The time was far spent. I had been locked in, sitting behind my laptop.

 I jerked to my feet, heels creaking against the tiles, finally noticing the silence that hugged the office. They were all gone, every last one of them. Good thing it was Friday. I needed to stop by the club, grab a drink—or drinks, or maybe a whole bottle—get fucking drunk, and find a younger boy to give my pussy a good pounding.

The drive home was fast. I got home, took a quick shower, sprayed on cologne, and was out and about. Driving to my favorite slut house, “Deluxy.” The club was bubbly as usual. The clicking sound of my heels was barely loud enough to be heard.

 I walked straight through a crowd of people dancing with a weird rhythm that didn’t follow the music, then to my regular spot. I sat down, tugging my above-the-knee gown slightly to cover the trace amount of shame I had. The VIP area, where all the fun was.

Male strippers were doing their shit, their eyes searching for the perfect cock-thirsty client to indulge. I had a favorite—one I had taken to my bed twice, dipping his long monster cock deep between my wide-spread pussy lips.

He leaned toward me, gaze locked on mine. I slapped his lightly clothed cock, gripping it softly, tongue out, using a dollar bill like it could give his groin some sort of covering. He passed me a grin; mine mirrored his. I dipped my hand between my breasts, my cleavage sitting nice and inviting in my silver strapless gown. I pinched my nipples, rolling them softly.

As my favorite stripper gave me a show, he bounced his hard cock right into my face, an inch close to my mouth. The little cloth provided all the sensory tease intended.

 His hips were a roller coaster. Fuck! Flashbacks of my pussy grinding all over his face triggered my cunt even harder. I wet my index finger, digging it into my warm, dripping pussy, my other hand still pinching my nipples, eyes fixed on this beautiful wonder before me.

He came closer, knees spread over the single club chair where I sat, hips rolling even more. I ran my hands over his chest, then down his hard, throbbing cock—strong and vibrant. My thighs moistened. The musky scent of my pussy juice suddenly hit my nose. He pulled away, back to his spot, now dancing for another client. I licked my lips, warmth embracing my tongue. Oh, I needed a drink. And a new fuck toy for the night.

While I sat at the bar, a familiar silhouette caught me. I knew those biceps anywhere. The strongly carved chin, the veiny arms. It was Lucas—my intern. My forehead creased into waves. “Lucas?” I called out, my tone questioning.

He twirled around swiftly, body in position with mine. His glasses prevented a closer look into his eyes, which I noticed were gawking at my breasts, almost piercing my bones. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, lips flushed, his face as questioning as mine.

“Why are you here? Waiting on someone?” I yelled at the top of my voice, sitting on the stool just beside his. The loud music blared. “No, ma’am. I’m here to chill out.” The words sounded native and bizarre coming from him.

This was the longest conversation we had ever had, especially because I made the office chaotic for him. He pushed up his glasses, once again doing the nose-crinkling thing he always did. I watched him gulp down alcohol like it was some diet soda. My eyes widened.

He was a little different—less scared or shaky. He looked confident, spoke confidently, and his posture was upright and commanding. He maintained eye contact and looked like he didn’t need those glasses to see through me.

“You here for a fuck boy?” he asked, voice stern and determined. I froze, jaw dropped. My response hung on my tongue. His eyes searched mine for a reaction, piercing straight into me. My pussy did the grip thing, squeezing and pulling like it was getting ready. I pulled my legs tighter. His eyes shifted toward my exposed thighs, then back at my boobs. He ran his tongue over his lips, eyes thirsty with lust.

“Do you happen to know any fuck boys?” I managed to respond. My words were barely coherent. A sinister smirk curved the corner of his lips. His eyes fixed on me. “I am one,” he said, breath steady, his finger gently stroking my thighs. My pussy tightened with a sharp tug. A fresh gush of wetness flooded out.

He was definitely different, but I couldn’t protest. The same intern who could barely sit in the same room as me was making advances, stroking my thighs with his finger. My body betrayed me before I could make a decision. He saw the change in my attitude. I folded like a pretzel with nothing more than a nod.

“Good,” he said moments after I nodded in affirmation. He lifted his hand, calling for some extra rounds of tequila. “Strong,” he ordered, without even asking for my opinion. “I don’t take tequila,” I said, my voice now more like myself than before.

“No, no, no,” he replied with a smile, leaning forward into me, eyes commanding. “You’ll need it,” he whispered. His lips brushed against my ear lightly. My nipples hardened harder, struggling behind my bra. Lips parted, breath sucked in. “Trust me, you will.”

The next seconds seemed blurry to me. I could hardly recall how I got to the room or how I had myself waiting on him to get out of the shower before he devoured me so badly I thought I needed a wheelchair. The shock I felt was enough to leave me disabled