My billionaire boss saw my gangbang video

Mara

“Fuck….yeahh”, My boss, Marcus growled as his grip tightened in my hair, pulling my face deeper onto his throbbing cock, that monstrous thing with its flushed pink tip sliding over my tongue.

I tasted salt as his precum hit the back of my throat. I could feel the veins pulsing against my lips, while the projector's harsh light shone across the office walls, and my own desperate moans from that stupid leaked video mixed with the wet, obscene sounds I was making now.

God, what a mess I'd become, kneeling here by his floor-to-ceiling window while Marcus Cole, my ruthless boss was mouth-fucking me with no mercy.

My body betrayed me, my nipples hardened against my blouse and my pussy was throbbing with hot mess.

He thrust himself deeper into my throat until I gagged wetly with spit dripping down my chin.

I hollowed my cheeks desperately, sucking harder while he let out that low and shameful groan he tried to swallow.

Then he tightened his fist in my hair and growled right down at me, “That’s it…suck my cock like your fucking promotion depends on it, you greedy little slut.”

While at it, I was making a total joke of myself, and shit, hating how much I loved every degrading second of it.

Here I was, the sharp-tongued PA who'd always prided herself on keeping control, now reduced to this forbidden ritual in his executive suite with the air concentrated with the mixed scent of his cologne and my arousal.

Honestly, It was absurd because barely an hour ago I’d been sprinting through the lobby, late as hell with that damn flash drive clutched in my fist while I dodged security just to make the meeting on time.

Marcus who was the over-strict CEO back then that barked orders, now had his long, thick and big veiny cock stretching my mouth…and fuck, the worst part was how wet it made me.

Two hours earlier none of this had happened yet.

I handed my boss the wrong flash drive on a Monday morning, and by 9 a.m. I was sitting at my desk trying to figure out how to explain forty-seven minutes of myself getting used at an underground fetish club to a man whose coffee order I’d had memorized for two years.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

It started at 7:04 a.m. in my apartment, which was already a disaster. Laptop bag half-open on the counter. Coffee gone cold. Blazer on one arm. Granola bar between my teeth because I hadn’t eaten a proper meal since Saturday and my body had started making its displeasure known.

“Where is it, where is it..” I muttered around the granola bar, digging through the front pocket of my bag. My fingers hit something small and rectangular. I pulled it out, confirmed it wasn’t my lip balm, dropped it in my blazer pocket, and grabbed my coffee even though it was cold enough to be completely useless.

I did not look at the drive.

I always had two drives in that bag. One for work…reports, presentations, files Marcus would eventually put his name on without fully reading.

And my personal drive that had a small red dot sticker on it, specifically so I would never, ever, confuse them.

I did not check for the red dot.

I was nine minutes late and the Jubilee line had already let me down twice that week, so I grabbed my keys, locked my door, and decided that the universe owed me one smooth morning. One. Just one.

It absolutely did not deliver.

The Monday briefing was on the 14th floor, conference room B. Six people around the table. Marcus at the head, already looking like he’d been awake since five.

He didn’t do warm Monday mornings. He did silence and stillness and that particular way of looking at a room that made grown adults sit up straighter without understanding why. I’d worked for the man for two years and I still didn’t fully understand why.

I came in behind Charlotte from finance, slid into my usual seat at the far end of the table, and when Marcus glanced at me I said, “Q3 summary’s on the drive,” and slid it across the table toward him like it was nothing, like I hadn’t spent half of Sunday night formatting those spreadsheets.

He picked it up without looking at it. “Thank you, Mara.”

Two words. He said everything that way, in a way that makes it feel like the conversation had already been concluded, before he even started it.

The meeting ran forty minutes. I finished my granola bar under the table like a person who had absolutely nothing going on. Because I didn’t. I had done my job, handed in the file, and Monday was proceeding as intended.

I found my work drive at 8:53 a.m.

I was at my desk, looking for a highlighter, and my hand caught something at the bottom of my bag. I pulled it out and looked at it.

It was my work drive. No red sticker on it.

I looked at my blazer pocket.

I looked back down the hall at the conference room, the door was closed, Marcus had already gone back to his office a while ago.

I sat very still.

My brain did that thing it does…sees the information and immediately starts building a case for why it isn’t true.

Maybe this was a spare drive. Maybe I had three somehow. Maybe I had grabbed the right one and this was something else…

“Argh!..I’m doomed.” I cussed silently.

The personal drive had the sticker. Which meant the drive I’d handed Marcus had no sticker. Which meant my boss had the personal one.

“He’s not supposed to see that. Fuck!” I ran my hand through my hair.

I thought about what was on that drive.

I gave it about four seconds before my entire body went cold from the stomach out.

The club. The video. Forty-seven minutes of me in a dim-lit basement room, blindfolded, on my knees, completely naked and loudly in my element while men lined up, fingered, sucked me, humiliated my body, fucked me countless times and nutted on my face severally.