He brings the free use secretary a coffee as the day begins, that’s the first surprising thing about the new guy. The rest of the men just ignore her as usual. It might be a special team building day, with a more relaxed approach than in the office, but not much has changed for the free use secretary. She’s wearing a loose v-neck sweater and jeans that hug her arse rather than her standard short-skirt-and-white-blouse combo, but she’s still in the same role: silent, compliant. She’ll take notes on the day’s sessions, organise refreshments and logistics, but her primary task is – as always – to be available for free use. So the boss can grope and fuck her whenever he feels like it.
Note that this is a wank fantasy, like with all the other posts in the free use secretary series. It contains degradation, humiliation, rampant misogyny, free use (obvs) and other things that turn me on in erotic stories but which would be abhorrent in real life. It is porn, not an instruction manual. And honestly, although there’s consent here I do think this is the basest one I’ve written so far and if dubcon/noncon doesn’t do it for you then the beats of this will almost certainly put you off too so don’t read on if that’s likely to distress you. Next week there’ll be a part 7, and it’ll be the final one in the series. Subscribe for updates because I’m gleefully excited about it.
Just like in the office, the rest of the men (they are all men) pay her only cursory notice. Roughly the same attention they’d give to the pot plants on the windowsill.
Except New Guy.
He acknowledges her presence. And not just to comment on her tits or whisper that he heard she got tag-team fucked in the stationery cupboard last week. New Guy treats her like a person. He brings her coffee. While the rest of the men are laying claim to the best breakfast pastries, New Guy pours an extra cup from the drinks station, makes eye contact with her from across the room, calls out ‘milk and sugar?’ and waits for a response. She’s so unused to being addressed directly by anyone other than the boss that it takes a while to register that he’s talking to her. She nods for milk, and accepts the coffee gratefully.
Her cup is still warm when the boss enters, greeting the rest of the men with jovial backslaps before launching in to an outline of the day. There are ten of them in total: eight junior colleagues, the boss himself, and her. As per the meticulous itinerary she sent round to everyone last week, the day is split into three parts: team building, ideas-generation, and an update on next year’s strategy. The boss has told her, too, to keep an hour aside at the end of the day for a prize ceremony. She is pretty sure she can guess what the prize will be.
The first part goes well: no one objects to team building games, even though they’re cheesy-as-fuck, and she dutifully makes note of who got the best scores in the quiz. The boss reads out the questions imperiously, idly gripping her arse with too-firm fingers as she hands him the cards. She’ll have bruises blooming on the left cheek by tomorrow morning, but this is her job so she bears it. New Guy gives her a shy smile when he wins the tiebreak, and she grins back at him, mouthing ‘well done’ as he beams.
The boss seems annoyed by this. As the team breaks for mid-morning coffee and biscuits, he orders the free use secretary into the toilets for a quick, rough fuck. Makes her yank down her jeans to her knees, bend over and brace her arms against the cool tile of the bathroom wall while he rails her. Slamming each stroke in like it’s punishment for stepping out of line. Huffing and puffing and eventually grunting as he dumps a heavy load of spunk inside her cunt.
Post-cum, post-coffee, the boss leads the men in a discussion about a key problem facing the company – something about security and internal processes that needs to be tightened up. She’s intimately familiar with this particular problem, she even prepared the boss’s notes while he was off golfing, so she zones out and watches New Guy while the team gets the lowdown, hears that there’ll be a reward for those with innovative solutions.
They break into pairs and there’s plenty of lively debate. While they’re busy writing key points on flip charts, the boss comes to stand behind his free use secretary. Slips a hand down the open neck of her sweater, casually pinching each of her nipples in turn. New Guy casts a glance at what’s happening, looks startled and whispers to a colleague. She can’t make out what they say, but she’s guessing he’s being given an overview of the whole ‘free use’ arrangement because he swiftly breaks her gaze and looks away. Perhaps New Guy is embarrassed for her, or shocked. She’s become so used to the way this works now that it’s rare for her to question how she feels about it. Ambivalent? Or angry? Upset? None of those is quite right. It’s a stepping stone, for her, to something much better. And usually she’s busy focusing on the next step, so what’s happening in the moment is blurred and dull.
Yet now, under the curious eye of a man who made her coffee and treated her like a person, the free use secretary is struck by how humiliating it is. How sordid. What will New Guy think about her obnoxious boss gripping one of her tits so hard it hurts? How will he feel when he knows that part of her interview involved her bending over a desk and getting painted with that awful man’s spunk?
She’s confident that signing up to this arrangement was the right decision – the payoff will be worth it. But somehow the idea that she might have a potential ally makes her view the day-to-day aspects of her job in a different light. The shame of it burns her skin, and she bites her lip to stop from instantly breaking her contract and telling the boss to go fuck himself: get his sweaty, creepy little hands off her.
Lunch, as expected, is long and boozy. The men compete to out-bullshit each other with stories from their past jobs, while simultaneously trying to drown themselves in free, expensive wine. She sits at the table to eat with them. Beside the boss, of course, so that as he holds his fork in his right hand to spear chestnut-and-truffle ravioli, he can use his left to yank her sweater up and casually paw at her exposed tits. The free use secretary almost flinches away, then remembers her contract and settles in to the mindful simplicity of just tolerating it. Keeping her eyes focused on her plate so she can avoid making eye contact with the other men. The ones who whisper about what a slut she is and joke about who’ll get a ‘go’ at the end of the day.
“Look how hard her nipples are – she’s gagging to get fucked, you can tell.”
“Wouldn’t mind a turn myself, if the boss will let me.”
“I’ve got the best sales record this year – reckon I’ll get to cum in her ass?”
She studiously avoids meeting anyone’s leering gaze, thinking instead of the ticking clock and the end of the day, when she can sneak back to the office and get her real work done while the men disappear to get even drunker. Dessert is served, and the boss – seemingly bored of her now – gives her right nipple a vicious pinch then pulls her sweater back to cover it as he tackles his soufflé. Clearing the plates, dodging a few ‘accidental’ gropes from members of the junior team, she can’t resist a swift glance at New Guy. His face flickers with a combination of shock and confusion. She finds that oddly comforting.
Back in the room, it’s time for a monotonous strategy update from the boss – during which at least three of the more junior men are nursing hard or semi-hard cocks. Side-eyeing her like hyenas waiting for a lion to abandon the carcass of its kill, they occasionally grip themselves through jeans with thick-fingered hands. Wryly, she notes that at least three of those hands sport wedding rings. Not New Guy’s though.
After the interminable monologue, the boss starts to wrap up. And judging by the conversations the free use secretary’s overheard at lunch, she knows that she is the prize. The reward for these men doing well will be that they get to fuck her.
Perhaps she’ll be made to kneel in the centre of a circle of them while they stroke their dicks, painting the blankest and most compliant expression on her upturned face, while they take it in turns to rain cum down onto it.
Perhaps she’ll be ordered to strip naked so they can put their hands all over her, touching and groping and poking and pinching until her skin is peppered with hotspots of red marks round her thighs and tits and arse.
Maybe she’ll be ordered to bend over the grand mahogany table in the centre of the room, jeans and knickers yanked down, binding her knees and ankles so each man can take it in turns to add spunk to her overflowing cunt.
“We’ve got an hour left,” the boss announces, and a few of the assembled men cheer. He takes the free use secretary by the wrist and pulls her to her feet, before immediately bending her over the table. He continues to address the group, not acknowledging her at all other than to tug down her jeans and knickers so her arse is exposed, exactly as predicted. “I kept this time set aside specially, because I wanted to reward those of you who’ve done well…”
As he mentions ‘reward’ he slaps her arse – a firm, sharp smack that rings out like a gunshot – and gestures at one of the junior men to step forward. A smug, overly-greased sales-y type in a blue suit. The boss mentions something about ‘innovation’ and launches into a spiel about sales figures, but no one’s really listening – all eyes in the room are fixed on the free use secretary, including those of Blue Suit Guy, who is already unzipping his trousers.
He’s the first, but by the time he pulls out his cock – almost at total stretch but he’s beating gently at it to make sure it’s fully hard before he slides it inside – a few others are already unzipping so they can touch themselves while they watch. Squeezing and rubbing to make sure they’re ready if their name is called out next.
The boss is planning to let them take turns.
The free use secretary reaches across the table to grip the far edge of it with her hands. Bracing herself, ready for as many of them as the boss decides. She doesn’t close her eyes, just stares straight ahead. Allowing her gaze to fall beyond the junior execs who haven’t been deemed worthy, to a spot somewhere high on the opposite wall. Those who haven’t been chosen stay to watch, though. There’s still reward, after all, in observing her get used and abused by the others. Over and over.
The first guy takes her with a rough kind of boredom, as if this is something he’s done many times before. Perhaps he has. He’s been with the company almost ten years, and she’s only been here for a few. Perhaps there were others on similar contracts before her, and now he’s comparing in his mind: which of the compliant free use secretaries feels best around his cock? Like he’s a conoisseur of convenient bodies. He certainly fucks her that way. Spitting on his dick then sliding it in with a measured kind of calm, allowing himself no more than a soft grunt when he’s fully buried.
She can feel the edge of the desk bumping against her hips as he fucks into her, over and over. The grimy meat of his hands gripping tightly at her hips. To begin with, all she can hear is the smacking sound of his crotch meeting her arse, and in the background, the sound of shuffling as others get ready for their turn.
As Blue Suit Guy speeds up, though, they start to speak. Offering suggestions about where he should come, and encouragement in the form of jeering celebration:
“Go on, ____, fill her up.”
He’s bold, confident, entirely at ease with being seen in this way by his colleagues. Fucking her first is a point of pride, so Blue Suit replies:
“Don’t mind if I do.” Followed by a flurry of more aggressive, bruising strokes. Grabbing her tight, he tries to tug her back onto his granite-hard dick, the better to dump his cum all the way inside. Another grunt, a grown of “ugggh that’s it,” and he’s twitching and squirting a fat load of jizz, thick and warm in her cunt.
The boss calls out someone else’s name, and the next guy steps forward. Plunging his hot, hard dick into her like she feels nothing. Above her head, the men are conversing, and although her mind is elsewhere, small snatches of the conversation break through into her consciousness.
“She’s dripping wet for it.”
“Look how hard she’s taking that fat dick.”
“Take her top off, let’s see those tits jiggle while she’s fucked.”
By the time this guy is reaching climax, three men have gathered in front to get a better look at the show. Two of them rub themselves casually, one even uses his spare hand to caress hers, as if he’s supporting her through a difficult trial. She keeps her focus on that high point on the opposite wall, avoids rolling her eyes. Grits her teeth. Gets another hot load of cum shot with eager force into her jerking body.
Next.
There’s a whispered conversation with the boss that she can’t quite hear, though from the frustrated expressions on the faces of the men watching, she guesses the next guy isn’t yet hard enough to fuck. There’s a flurry of activity behind her, and the unmistakable sound of a buckle being undone – clink – then leather sliding sleekly out of belt loops. Before…
crack
A solid, heavy stroke lands neatly across the meat of her arse. Her whole body convulses in response, but she’s used to this so her expression doesn’t falter. She’s resolute. Calm.
thwack
Another stroke. A murmured “that’s it,” from the guy behind, before two more land in swift succession. He’s solid now – the beating helped him get there – she can feel the rigid head of his prick jammed up against her hole. He stuffs himself inside quickly before losing face in front of the team, belt now discarded on the table beside her. The boss slaps him on the back, both patronising and dominant, then leans forward to check in on his free use secretary.
He doesn’t speak to her, you understand. His ‘checking in’ just involves him readjusting her clothes to make sure she’s presented well. A cursory glance at her face to make sure she maintains that perfect, passive expression. Then top tugged up, as per one colleague’s suggestion, so they can all watch her tits jiggle as she’s fucked against the cold, hard wood of the table.
The shuffling from the men in front starts to increase in speed and intensity, and the boss jokes that even if they don’t get inside her, they can still cum elsewhere if they want to.
They do.
One of the junior execs reaches forward with a trembling hand to pinch her nipples and squeeze her left tit too tight. Like he’s echoing how hard his fist grips the shaft of his spit-slicked cock. Timing strokes on his own dick with the hard, rapid strokes someone else is using to fuck her, he lets out a few muffled moans before exploding ropes of cum. They lace her chest, dripping off her nipples, making light wet smacking sounds as they hit the wood of the table. And this, inevitably, is enough to trigger the next guy: he pushes forward and aims directly at her impassive face. Squirting fat globs of spunk between her lightly-parted lips and then towards her eyes.
She closes her eyes, wincing slightly, expecting a slap that miraculously doesn’t come. When she opens them again, she tries to scan for New Guy. There’s something in the back of her mind that tells her he’ll be far out of reach – observing with a frown from the sidelines, perhaps. Shy and uncertain and unwilling to join in the fray.
It’s almost a fantasy, this. A little daydream she plays for herself to keep her mind off what’s happening: the grunting, sweating, rough thrusts from behind and the urgent, frantic shuffling in front of her. She plays in her head the picture of New Guy standing off to one side, and it’s like a tune she’s humming to distract herself from the boss’s sneering words:
“That’s it, give it to her. She won’t say no, it’s in the contract. … Oh yeah, go on pull her arms back let’s all get a look at those tits. … Fuck, I don’t know if she’s taken one that fat in the ass before, I might have to give her a pay rise!”
If she wasn’t busy tuning it out she might have had time to wonder whose cock, exactly, was so fat she couldn’t take it. After two years of free use from the boss and his colleagues, she’s familiar with most of them and doesn’t think she’s seen much she can’t handle. In fact, if she were foolish enough to admit to her darkest secret, she’d tell you that she is the one in control. That the men fucking her and degrading her, who think she’s no more than a pretty, blank face and a willing cunt are labouring under a catastrophic delusion.
And yet. Fuck. When the next guy presses the tip of his cock against her ass, she realises it’s more than she’s used to. Significantly more. The girth of it, even before the head is fully enveloped, causes her to stifle a gasp of shock. Involuntarily, she clenches against it, as if she’s trying to keep him from sliding in.
“Ohhhh,” the boss says, in that sneering way that makes her want to puke. “Ohhh fuck she’s gonna struggle.”
There’s a chorus of baying laughter from the other men. One of them smacks her on the arse as the guy behind grips her hips and bears down harder. Pushing, shoving, splitting her wide open with the meat of his dick. There’s a grunt when he gets all the way in to the hilt, but barely any time for her to get comfortable with the sensation before he withdraws again and starts fucking. Sharp, quick strokes that push tiny, involuntary squeals out through her lungs.
Someone in front tells him: ‘shut her up’, and in direct response his next few thrusts are so brutal that she has to grit her teeth. They rattle inside her head, as does her whole body as it’s slammed against the hard wooden edge of the table. He won’t take long to come, she’s sure, from the way his fingertips dig into her hips to bruise her flesh, and the taut rigidity of this formidable cock as it cleaves her with each sharp jolt.
She realises who it is a split second before all becomes clear.
Before the boss’s gleeful comment – “welcome to the team!”.
Moments before the roaring men start clapping along as she’s fucked into a swirl of trembling adrenaline. Ragdoll-limp. Unmoving but no longer unfeeling as the crowd chants “one of us! One of us!” before erupting into laughter.
By the time the guy buried deep in her ass starts to twitch and jerk and come, she knows exactly who it is. She can smell him on the gusts of hot breath that he pants against the back of her neck, falling forward onto her. His monstrously fat cock now pumping shot after shot of hot, thick spunk deep into her raw, aching body.
His spent, exhausted voice now trembling with shame, as he whispers a hurried “Sorry,” into her ear.
New Guy.
If you enjoyed this, go check out the other posts in the free use secretary series. And please do subscribe for updates so you get an email when next week’s goes live. I’ve had so much fun exploring this fantasy that I fell a bit in love with the main character, so I’ve written my girl a finale.