• Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Group Sex
  • /
  • After the Office Party Pt. 01

After the Office Party Pt. 01

That time of year again, the works christmas party.

Lianne had sworn off them for a few years. The last job she'd had, she'd been at for a long time, and she'd had enough drunken works shindigs to last her forever. Now though, she was older, wiser and altogether more sensible. Although a hell of a lot more of a lightweight, it seemed.

She'd been in what she still considered her "new" job for about 18 months now. New job, new area, new life. It was all going pretty well; she liked her colleagues, loved her boyfriend (boyfriend seems like the wrong word when you're out of your twenties, doesn't it?), loved the area. It was a fairly small office, and informal most of the time. Occasionally they'd get a visit from the big cheeses, and then everyone was on their best behaviour, but on the whole it was a friendly, relaxed team of people. Sometimes she disagreed with the way certain people operated but that's work, isn't it? It's never perfect.

One of her workmates had booked them a meal in town, and they'd all headed out afterwards to indulge in drinks. The last time Lianne had been out with this lot, things had been messy - as one of the few staff that commuted, she'd booked a room at a central hotel, but despite the temptation to go hard at it again this year she didn't want to suffer the same jibes as last time round. She'd had a few too many and had lost patience with the hipster-style jazz club they'd wound up in, grousing that there wasn't anything to dance to. Nope, not doing that again. A couple of quality G&T's would suffice, a good natter with a couple of her workmates and a bitch about the bosses, and she'd be happy. No need for baubles as earrings, or elf hats with ears attached, or fur trimmed miniskirts.

By midnight she was feeling pretty good. Okay, so she'd exceed her "couple of G&T's" limit. Exceeded? Hmm, trashed it. But one of the girls knew this funky little cocktail bar, and she'd had to try one of *those*.. oh and *that* one... Ahhh, sod it. She didn't get out much these days, living in the sticks. The barman mixing their cocktails had been easy on the eye, and flirty too, dropping her the odd wink, but she hadn't done anything awful - although the rumblings about a kebab, or karaoke, sounded appealing. She couldn't tell which option sounded better, and then realised that when either a kebab or a karaoke session with your workmates was becoming a good option, it was probably time to call it a night.

Hugs all round then, and "see you Mondays". She only had a five minute walk - well, hobble, in these stupid heels - back to the hotel. It wasn't yet midnight and Lianne congratulated herself on being the sensible one in the group - not like last year! Oh no, no weekend-long hangover for her. She was buzzing a bit from expensive cocktails, but it made the walk bearable. She'd be ever so good - glass of water before bed, remove the eye makeup, drag a brush through her hair, get up at a sensible time and have a shower, coffee, decent breakfast... Yep, well behaved now. She was too old for all that

partying-til-the-sunrise schtick. Anyway no-one wanted to party with an as-good-as-married, fairly un-girly woman like her. They'd be chasing after the younger, hotter bits of skirt from the office. She deliberately ignored her internal monologue's mutterings of "frump.. lightweight..booooooring", in favour of the more positive aspects of an early night.

She wandered through the dim lobby and hit the call button for the lift. City centre hotels built upwards, and she was on the fourth floor out of five. A few people milled around the lobby, lingering after late drinks, hoping for a last nightcap, or prolonging the inevitable. Lost in her own thoughts, Lianne didn't notice when a group of men clocked her.

She didn't see them smile small smiles. She didn't notice when one of the men detached himself from the group and moved slowly towards the lifts.

He followed her into the brightly lit small space and hit the button for the fifth floor, his hand brushing over hers as she reached for the number four. Lianne glanced up, taken unawares; she'd not even seen him get into the lift behind her.

He smiled at her surprised expression and blatantly looked her up and down. His gaze lingered over her cleavage and he actually licked his lips. The alcohol must have removed some polite inhibition, and Lianne actually sputtered a laugh. The man looked sheepish. She decided that if it was okay for him to check her over, she may as well do precisely the same thing and see how he liked it.

Jeans, worn and washed soft. A dark coat, over who-knew-what; he seemed solidly built but it was hard to know. It was okay for guys - eye up a bird in a tight dress and you could see if she was thin, fat, toned, voluptuous - but a man in tight clothes? Generally if they were that proud of themselves she'd not be interested anyway. She'd never liked vain men. She resumed her assessment. He must have been early forties, slight flickers of grey through his dark hair, just enough that it looked like a trick of the light. His eyes were dark, too, with an intensity she associated with.. oh now what did it make her think of... the cocktails fuzzed her brain but she thought perhaps of birds of prey. Clever. Ruthless.

She laughed to herself. Waaaay too much gin. The lift made a soft ping and the doors opened. Lianne cast one wistful look at the cocksure bloke in the lift and wandered into the corridor. She kicked off her shoes and luxuriated in the relief, then began to pad back to her room.

She keyed the lock and let herself in, opening the door with a shoulder whilst juggling shoes, bag, keycard and doorhandle. When she didn't hear it click shut behind her, she didn't panic - it must have snagged somehow. She tossed her belongings onto the floor and turned to close the door properly.

She'd pivoted unsteadily, only halfway, when a hand slapped over her mouth and a strong arm pulled her backwards.

Lianne's eyes flew wide and she screamed, frantically scrabbling her stockinged heels over the carpet, instinctively fighting for balance.

Her assailant pulled her backwards, towards the door, and kicked it closed behind himself. He hung onto her and held her as still as he could, putting his mouth close to her ear.

"Shhhh. Don't scream. Not gonna hurt you."

She wriggled and flailed. He wasn't removing his hand from her mouth. Suddenly she felt the world go sideways. He'd dropped backwards, onto one knee, dragging her down with him. He'd rolled somehow so that he was lying on his back, her body tight against his, and before she could think to kick, his legs wrapped around hers. She could move even less now.

"I told you... Calm down. You can't get past me, I'm stronger than you. I won't hurt you. Now STOP."

As she recognised how pointless her struggles were, she gave in. She'd only get tired out. Her chest heaved.

"I'll tell you again, no screaming. I'm not here to harm you. I'm going to take my hand away, okay?" His voice was steady, smooth, controlled. He did what he'd promised and slowly removed his hand from her mouth, relaxing his hold on the rest of her.

Lianne stumbled forwards, dragging herself towards the bed, crawling for it and hauling herself upwards. She plonked herself down, looking at him, staring stupidly. Lift guy. What the hell?

He stood. Looked at her, breathing hard, eye makeup running from tears, hair dishevelled. He couldn't help but smile again. She just watched him, warily, her mouth hung open in shock. She knew she should be screaming blue murder, running for the door, but she was rooted to the spot.

He unzipped his jacket and hung it neatly. He stepped closer to her.

"I'm going to have you," he said quietly.

Her eyes grew rounder. She couldn't understand, herself, why she wasn't fighting. She was just sitting, all scared... She tried to muster some courage.

"You can't do this. I'll shout. You can't..."

That was her first real mistake. He silenced her protests with his mouth, shoving her back onto the bed, pushing her into the mattress. His tongue forced between her lips and she could only screech at him. One hand was on her chest - fuck, he was strong. The other hand raked up her thigh, grabbed her knickers, and pulled. He literally tore them off her. He sat up, quickly, a knee over her legs, and the hand with her knickers in was now on her belly. His other hand covered her face, pinching her nostrils closed. She shook her head and flailed again, but as soon as she opened her mouth to breathe, he stuffed her knickers in.

"There. Now you can't scream. Any noise you make, well... town centre hotel, friday night, we're just another office party couple having some fun, aren't we?"

Lianne was livid. She was seething with frustration - he was just too big, too strong, for her to fight. But she wasn't going to make it easy for him. If he wanted it, he'd have to be damned determined. He wasn't going to win this one completely. She forced her body to at least pretend to relax. He felt her muscles slacken. He climbed off her, and moved to sit in the tub chair in the corner of the room. Still between her and the door, but he'd shown her now that he could force her down anyway.

"Stand up then, and strip," he ordered.

She fiddled for the back zip of her dress. Tugged it down, and stepped out of it.

"Come on... not much left anyway. Bra now,"

She dropped it to one side and stood, her knickers in her mouth, quite naked. Her eyes gleamed furious defiance at him.

"Turn round, hands on the bed, and bend over."

Lianne did as she was bid. She pressed her face into the cool linen, soothing the tears on her face, not looking back at him. She was exposed to him, her bottom up in the air, her private parts on show. She burned with humiliation.

"Oh, my... that's nice. Good arse you've got there. Not too small, round enough to jiggle. I can see your cunt between your thighs, you know. It's a nice view."

She heard him shifting in the chair, but she didn't look over her shoulder. She jumped when she felt his hands on her hips, and his breath on her bottom. He took a big breath in.

"You smell good, too. Your cunt smells nice. Clean, hungry. And you look good close up, too. That little arsehole is begging for attention. And what do we have here?"

Hungry? What did he mean? She started again as she felt one finger run the length of her slit, ever so gently, not even parting her pussy. He idly flicked at the larger inner lips and then she felt him pulling them apart, his thumbs spreading her open.

"I thought so! Hungry indeed. Your cunt's getting wet for me. Did you know that?"

She didn't move, didn't answer. Her mouth was stuffed, and she was reeling. She'd almost groaned aloud at the feeling of being spread open. Opened up by a stranger.

Second mistake.

She squealed into the knickers in her mouth as his hand cracked across her bottom.

"That's for not answering when I ask you a question. Now, try again. Did you know your cunt is wet?"

She shook her head, ashamed, still burying her face in the sheets.

"Mmmmm..." he inhaled her scent again. "I think I'll have to make sure you know who's in charge. Stay there, don't move, and I might be a bit nicer to you."

She did as she was told. That was the right thing to do, wasn't it... Do as he wanted, then he might not hurt her. She kept her face buried in the sheets - better that than let him see her crying. But perhaps that's what he wanted? Maybe he got off on seeing her fear, her weakness. Lianne's thighs started to ache from being bent over the bed, but she didn't dare to move. She drew a few shaky breaths as she listened to him bumping about the room, hearing the sound of furniture being dragged over the bland beige carpet. She heard him rattling bottles in the bathroom. She heard him swipe aside all of her makeup on the counter, beside the hotel TV. Keep breathing, she told herself. Play nice. Be good.

"I think I'm ready," he said, and there was a smile in his voice. A note of amusement. She couldn't shout her gobby response with a mouthful of knickers; she didn't want to piss him off if he was feeling pleased with himself. What the hell was she doing, anyway? Why not stand up straight and run for it? But then.. naked in a hotel corridor, at gone midnight, and a stranger in her room. Who would believe her? They'd think she'd brought him back there. Silly drunken girlie, got a bad case of the regrets. No, she wasn't going to run from him. She was braver than that. Better than that. Lianne lifted her head and looked around at him.

"First," he murmured, his voice low, "I'm going to show you who's in charge here. Reinforce the message a bit. After that, I'm going to take what I want. You think you're so well behaved, don't you, dancing the evening away in your party dress, flirt a bit, head back here all alone? I know you're not like that, not really. I think we should always be honest. Don't you?"

"Um... Yes?" she replied, hoping it was the right answer.

"Good girl. Now come here," he gestured. She saw that he had moved the low coffee table in the room, dragged it to a new place in front of the full length mirror. She looked over at him, confused.

"Lie flat on the table," he said. "On your front. Spread your legs."

As she lay down, he made her pause and lift her hips. He slipped a couple of cushions underneath her. As she lay back down, her breasts pushed into the cold table. She steadied herself with her hands on the floor. Her toes gripped into the carpet.

He knelt in front of her and proceeded to lash her arms to the legs of the table. She looked up, lifting her tear-stained face to him. "Please... I won't tell anyone. I don't know who you are," she pleaded. He took her chin in his hand. Thumbed away tears, an oddly familar, tender gesture.

"Just be honest," he said softly. Then he left, moving behind her to fasten each ankle to the table legs in the same way.

She was exposed, again. Her arse was raised up, her legs splayed. Her most private areas were there for him to see. She was helpless. She dropped her head, resigned to whatever he might do next.

"Now then," he said. "I want honesty from you. Each time I think you're not being truthful, I'm going to spank your arse. So if you want to get this over with quickly, don't lie. And don't you scream, or the knickers are going back in. Which would be a shame, because I want to hear you answer me. It's so much more fun to hear you say it, rather than just nod or shake your head. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she muttered. She wasn't looking forward to this. She'd been spanked once before, by an ex, and though she was ashamed to say it, she'd loved the experience. It had hurt, true, but the sheer novelty of it, and the naughtiness, had made her insatiable. But this man was an unknown quantity.

He must have picked up on the tone in her voice. "Has anyone done this to you before? Spanked you?"

That was her business! "No!"

SMACK. She yelped.

"Warned you, didn't I. Tell the truth. And no screaming!"

She sighed. "Okay, okay. Once before."

He moved his large hand in circles on her rump, soothing the burn. "Good girl," he smiled. "Did you like it?"

She didn't answer. She didn't want him to think that was her thing. That she got off on stuff like this. It might encourage him.

SMACK, again. She breathed in sharply, hissing through her teeth against the sting. "Too slow!" he sing-songed at her. "I bet you did, though. I bet it made you feel slutty."

It had, that was the problem. When she still didn't speak, he landed another couple of sharp slaps on her arse, and she heard him chuckle. He was clearly enjoying the way her flesh jumped, the way she was taking each smack stoically.

Then he did something that surprised her. She felt his hands on the backs of her thighs, sliding upwards. He pulled at her flesh, spreading her apart, exposing her. He held her like that for a long moment.

"I'm looking at your pussy," he said quietly.

His thumbs pulled the lips of her cunt apart. She felt hot breath against the sensitive skin. Then she stiffened as he breathed in, noisily - and suddenly licked her.

"You smell so good," he murmured. "I wanted a taste. And you're wet."

He grabbed a handful of each buttock, spreading those too. "I want to look at your holes," he said. "I'm going to fuck every one of them tonight, and you'll beg me to stop... But I won't stop until you find yourself begging for more."

She shuddered. He was exposing her most intimate places.

"No point being shy, you know. By morning you'll have done things with me that will make this seem like nothing." He stroked her pussy, just with the tip of his finger, then pushed it roughly inside. She whimpered.

SMACK. Another slap landing on one arse cheek. She jumped, twitching as his finger moved inside her. "I'd like to put you over my knee," he said in a thoughtful tone. "Smack your arse til it's pink. Watch you get so wet it soaks through your knickers. This will have to do for now."

He was alternating spanks with thrusts of his finger. She wriggled her hips - not trying to escape from the blows, but trying to gain some extra movement on his hand. Her arse was hot, and his finger inside her was teasing her like mad. She knew she'd been found out - he must have known, when he bent to smell her arousal, that she was getting some twisted kind of pleasure from the spanking. She had no idea how he'd known.

"Do you fantasise?" came a question. She shook her head. She didn't want him to know any more than he obviously already did.

SMACK. "Of course you do. Everyone does. Unless you're lying to get spanked even more?"

She shook her head again, quickly.

"I believe you. See, it's easier when people are straight with one another."

As if she had any option, all four limbs tied to the legs of the table, arse in the air, exposed to the attentions of a total stranger. He carried on, spanking her bottom and legs, and occasionally sliding a finger into her pussy. She tried hard to stay quiet but her arse really was burning now.

"What do you daydream about, then? Being fucked hard?"

She nodded, and was rewarded with another spank. "Answer, don't just nod at me. And everyone dreams about that. Do you think about... Oh, let's see... Being tied up?"

"Yes," she replied meekly. "Sometimes."

"What about being well-fucked in every hole? Used and ravaged?"

"Mmm," she whimpered, and was spanked yet again.

"I think you probably daydream about even more than that. You're a dirty girl, deep down - a dirty little slut putting on respectable face. Which is fine with the people you work with. Most of them, anyway - you'd be surprised what they think about you..."

She had no idea what that was supposed to mean. What the hell did her work colleagues know about her sex life? She didn't discuss that sort of thing with anyone! Well... There was that one guy, Jay, that she'd been IM-ing. They joked about how the rest of the office had sticks up their arses, or how the management were useless. Jay was just like her; definitely taken, but still up for a chat and a flirt because it livened the day up. They'd swapped a bit of saucy innuendo, yeah, but she didn't think he'd ever really want to take it further. It wasn't like that.

Another hard spank, right where her arse cheeks parted, landed stingingly. It snapped her right back to the here and now - that one really hurt, he'd caught the tops of her thigh along with her exposed pussy lips.

  • Index
  • /
  • Home
  • /
  • Stories Hub
  • /
  • Group Sex
  • /
  • After the Office Party Pt. 01

All contents © Copyright 1996-2023. Literotica is a registered trademark.

Desktop versionT.O.S.PrivacyReport a ProblemSupport

Version ⁨1.0.2+795cd7d.adb84bd⁩

We are testing a new version of this page. It was made in 537 milliseconds