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The Baurute Daily

12

Marcos wore his long black hair brushed to the side of his face. His jeans were always loose yet tight. He was very much into the music scene. I knew just be seeing him wear checkered Converses and vintage white belts. He wasn't exactly tall or muscular, but he had broad shoulders and defined biceps. I loved the tan of his skin, and his teeth were so white when he smiled, which was only on occasion. His style was divine, yet it wasn't really his look that was stunning. It was his brilliance and loud personality. I looked at him and thought the idea of 'us' was impossible. He was too powerful, and he could conquer any woman he chose.

I was a beginner in the journalism game. Mass media communications wasn't exactly a dream of mine in the beginning. Marcos was so commanding however, so very much so, that no one questioned his authority. His fears were nonexistent in the way he stood in front of his audience, setting deadlines and pushing buttons. He didn't hold back when speaking to the writers or the staff below him. I didn't think he'd hold back in front of the executive chief editor either. He knew how to take charge. For that reason alone, Marcos was the editor of the school newspaper.

I took the newspaper course for credit hours in college because I wanted to become a journalist. I didn't really know how much time it was going to zap from my life. All of my days were numbered inside of that newsroom. Weeks went by, and I didn't even know what day it was. I spent hours scouring over text in front of a computer, furiously writing up articles after hunting down stories on our campus. I was so very involved that I wouldn't even notice it was dark outside, until someone would call my cell phone and wonder where I was.

On one of these long days, I had been working on layout of the newspaper, since the early hours of the morning. I hadn't slept too much, and I was immensely cranky.

Marcos began to depend on me for stories, claiming I had more talent than many of the returning staff writers. It filled my heart with joy to know I was taking a course over the summer for the first time, and I became an important someone to The Baroute Daily organization. I felt his recognition and enjoyed the responsibility given to me, even though I had enough piled on my shoulders to never see the light of day. I was in charge of placing text pages, creating a calendar, and of course, editing a handful of stories from the many writers on staff.

I was showing Marcos one of my pages right before I planned to leave for home. I longed for something to cure the aching in my empty belly. I worked hard that afternoon, but he kept reminding me the deadline was the following day. I needed to have everything done, although I thought he said he was going to give me more time. He leaned over to see what I was doing, but as he commented on the context of the right column, his hand slipped through the top of my shirt and cupped my right breast. He fingered it gently, rolling my hardened nipple in between his fingers.

"I like what you did with the picture there. It's very hot," he said, tilting forward and kissing my ear. I felt his teeth graze my lobe.

His whispers caused chills down my spine like these actions, when he spoke again. "You're such a good journalist, Laura, but can you be a good girl, too?" His fingers fell on to my shoulders. I was wearing an open neck tee, so his fingertips rubbed the bare skin of my collarbone and fueled the flame brewing in my nether regions. He placed his hands on either side of my neck and began to suck on the underside of my jaw. His right hand continued to knead and twist the milky mound of flesh beneath my clothes.

"Mhm," I replied, almost losing my voice as he pinched the sensitive pink tit with his pointer finger and thumb.

"Is that so? Does this good girl want to come into my office? I've got a big news story for her to read before publication. It needs a lot of editing," he hoarsely murmured in my ear.

I couldn't believe what I was doing, following him into his office like I KNEW what I was doing. He closed the door behind me and then walked back, swatting my ass as he past by my side. He stood looking down at me, unbuckling his belt and pushing down his jeans. I never did know that he didn't wear underwear until I stared blankly at his rather large cock. I noticed he had a bulge, but it had never been like that in my mind. He sat back in the leather chair behind him and opened his legs apart.

"Take off your shirt and pants, and get over here," demanded the young man, pointing in between his legs. "Now!"

Kicking off my slip on flats, I quickly pulled my top over my head and tossed it aside. My ass rose and fell with the sway of my hips. He was looking over all the parts of my body. I pushed the waist of my pants down and shimmied out of their tight bonds. I was usually a confident woman in front of men, but in front of a man hidden in the dark light of the room, I was intimidated, wondering how I had gotten myself to this point. How could I be so willing to fuck my editor, when he asked? Was I easy for giving in without that much of a fight?

I walked to him in my pink and white striped panties and matching strapless bra. He abruptly reached forward and grabbed me by my hips. Feeling over my ass, he grabbed the underside of both ass cheeks and yanked me down to him. I straddled him,my legs hanging on either side of the chair.

I brought my lips to his, growing more comfortable with the situation. He had a wild tongue that swirled and massaged my own. I was inexperienced with him. I didn't know he had feelings for me, too. I wondered how he knew it was going to be okay to touch me like he had. What if he didn't? I was unsure of how I felt about it, but I had gotten what I wanted though. I wasn't going to complain.

His hands squeezed every part of my body that they touched. He spanked my ass lightly with his hand as I sucked on his ear. He separated us for moment while he felt underneath my bra and grasped my tits, fondling them like unmade hamburger meat, molding them into the shape of his hand and rubbing on my areolas.

My moans were soft and varied, wavering up and down. He smiled and chuckled at me, bringing his hand to rest on my panty-covered pussy.

"You want me to finger fuck that pussy? You're so wet already," Marcos asked, taking my hair in his hands and pulling my head to the side.

He stared down into my eyes. I felt like he was testing me, seeing how limber I was. I could obviously bend as he continued to pull my head back. He was waiting on my answer.

"Yes, please, Marcos, finger me," I pleaded.

I knew I didn't need to beg, but he wanted to hear it. I wasn't going to deny him of what he wanted. I didn't know that I could be so slutty. In my mind, only girls who were extremely desperate fucked their supervisors in their offices, hoping for a better grade. This didn't have anything to do with ulterior motives though. I had no intention of swindling my body for a better grade. My performance was above excellent, and I had been maintaining an A since I started. I made sure of that. If I didn't, I would lose my financial aid, since I was on probation from failing classes because of absences in the previous terms. Needless to say, but I will anyway, I wanted to get some from Marcos, not my editor.

He thrust in two fingers, without testing to see how tight I was. I winced and spread my legs further raising up from his lap. He brought me back down and chuckled.

"C'mon, fuck these fingers, slut. Get them all juicy, make me feel it," he said, smirking at me devilishly.

He was so bad. I didn't know he liked it rough. In truth, neither did I, but I grinded my body down onto his upright pointer and middle digits, moaning as I felt him pump me. I gushed with cum. I couldn't hate myself back from riding his hand harder as he began milking my cunt more forcefully.

His other hand came to my bra and ripped it off. I let out a cry, a bit agitated. That had been one of my favorite bras. I couldn't believe him again.

"Hey, settle down," I requested breathlessly.

My tits bounced in his voice as he spoke again, "What are these 36 c's? I bet I could titty fuck you."

I watched him laugh, taking away his fingers from the glistening pussy. He pushed my shoulders, and I fell back on the carpet. A woosh of cold air went up between my legs. Marcos had held onto my panties and pulled them down when I landed on my back. I lay there shocked, staring up at him.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, never before having experience this during sex. "That's not funny!"

He continued to laugh, watching me as I pushed myself up to stand. He got up hurriedly and forced me to my knees.

"Where are you going? I thought you wanted this?" he asked sternly, yet he seemed amused.

"I don't want this. I don't know what you're doing, but it's not fun anymore," said the scared girl inside of me.

I didn't want to give up my shot with him, but this was ridiculous. He was being too rough, even for me, and that was saying something. I expected us to make sweet love in the chair. In that dream, the worst thing that could happen is someone walking in on us, but now, I was afraid of something much more.

"Don't run away now, Laura. The fun's just about to start," he said lowly, smiling down at me.

Raising a brow, I looked at him oddly. I heard the sound of a door opening and turned around to see a string of male staff writers coming in. I screamed and reached for my clothes, grabbing at them quickly and holding them to my nude body.

They were all so nonchalant, greeting Marcos as though he weren't half naked. I told myself to wake up as I pulled the top over my head.

"Well, look at her go," Michael, a fellow columnist, said with a chuckle.

I glanced up to see the boys resting their eyes on me. I hadn't gotten my pants on all the way. At that moment, I wished I hadn't used my last lie with the financial aid appeals office to win back my scholarship for this semester. Otherwise, I would have been able to drop this class and avoid this moment again, the moment when pairs of eyes were studying my nearly naked bottom half. I huffed and brushed the hair from my face, finally getting my pants all the way on.

"You're a fuckin' asshole, Marcos!" I shouted shrilly.

I picked up my shoes and headed for the door, hearing murmurs behind me. I knew what they were saying. It wasn't hard to hear, and a smart person understood the undertones. They were probably analyzing the roll of my hips and the build of my legs.

I had never been so humuliated in my life. My heart felt like it was beating so hard I was about to drop dead. I couldn't believe what had happened. How could something I wanted so badly be turned into something of parody within a matter of seconds?

"You're not going anywhere, slut," Marcos challenged.

One of the younger-looking males stepped between the door and I, closing it sharply and peering at me with a taunting smirk.

"Get out of my way," I said, and pushed past him.

He grabbed my arm and threw me back. Stumbling, I looked at all of their leering faces, hanging my head as I gathered my thoughts. The situation was growing increasingly menacing. I didn't know what was going to happen to me, and I couldn't understand why these writers, people I thought were my friends, were doing this. When had I become so naive? I knew from the beginning that it wasn't okay.

I couldn't speak. I began to breathe harder, my chest heaving. I felt like I might faint. I watched movies with scenes like this, and every outcome led me to believe the worst. Men who roped up a girl's tits and chained them down to the floor, laughing at the victim while the girl was ass raped. No one spoke a word, and I didn't move, afraid that if I did, they would see me and like predators, they would attack when the prey was weak.

Marcos broke the silence of the standoff first. "Laura, I bet you're wondering what's going on, and I'm going to tell you. We've done this every single semester for a few years now. We pick out the hottest female writers, I seduce them–in this case, it was easier than all that, but usually, it takes a few weeks of gradual flirtation and hinting. I tell the boys when I plan on making my move, and then one day, I bring whoever the slut is into my office. We start making out. I get the girl naked, maybe take off some of my clothes, and about 10 minutes later, the boys come in to take notes and pictures. We're all current and former members of the Daily. Anyway, we found that we can make a lot of money, you know to buy cameras and produce color prints if we got a subsequent income–so that's when we started to get this idea. By posting our stories and pictures on the website, we get a lot of money to buy that fancy camera you almost dropped the other day."

My eyes were about to pop out of my head. I knew he was telling the truth, but why didn't he think I would say something? After all, I was a reporter.

"And if you tell the authorities, they'll shut down the paper, and if they shut down this paper, believe me–I'll send those pictures and notes to every porn site on the net," Marcos threatened, taking a step forward. His lips peeled back into a smile.

"Not to mention, I have the final review of your status in the class. I can let the professor know just how well you did...or didn't do," he added slyly.

He addressed everyone now. I looked at the boys to see them smiling and licking their lips. Their eyes were eager like the pens in their idle hands. I was at a loss for words. The significance of his threats weren't as harsh as they would be to me later.

"Now, boys, we've done this for 9 semesters now, and I have to say, Laura is by far, the hottest. I mean, you really have to make sure to not the size of her breasts," he pointed out.

Shaking his head, he turned abruptly and grabbed at the bottom edges of my shirt, struggling with my own hands and cries for him to stop as he pulled the top over my head.

"STOP IT! No, leave me alone!" I shrieked in horror. I batted at his hands, but the fight was to no avail, the top flew over my head and dropped down to the ground.

Blushing profusely, I shifted my hips and raised my hands to cover my tits, holding the round milky jugs to hide them from the myriad of laughing eyes. Marcos gruffly reached around and wrangled my arms down, pushing his knee in my back and pinning my torso to the ground.

"I'm tellin' you, Laura. If you don't cooperate, then there is going to be a lot more trouble for you and you won't get your cut, which is almost half. We're not trying to scam you out of any of it, but we don't have to make you look good, y'know? We have the power to do whatever we want, just like you're going to do whatever we want–and whatever we post is our decision," Marcos continued to say.

"Now turn around, face the wall and take off your jeans," he declared, letting go of me "Go on!"

Chewing on my bottom lip, I scrambled to my feet and after staring at them, I turned around and unzipped my jeans. I started to wiggle out of them. My hips twitched back and forth until the tight waist slipped off my ass. I heard their cheers and whistles as I bared my ass to them, hands clapping as the denim flares fell to my ankles.

"Bend over and pick them up," Marcos responded.

I heard the mock tone in his voice as I leaned over, pushing my ass up in the wide open space above me.

He spun me around by my shoulder, as he said, "Now, we're going to do an interview. Your name is Spanky Muffin."

The boys laughed. I blushed tremendously. I could no longer hang my head as Marcos lifted my chin with his fingers.

"Capture this moment, guys, see those tears, see the humuliation, see these ripe fuckin' titties!" He yelled with a laugh, slapping the side of my chest.

They turned on the video camera and made me stand against the white wall as they conducted an interview.

"How do you feel right now, Spanky?!" one of them shouted, laughter rising from the crowd.

"Shutup, ask a real question, like what does it feel like to be naked in front of 10 horny school boys?" Marcos revised, getting a good reaction from his staff.

I didn't know what they were asking. My thoughts were too loud, and I was startled when Marcos yelled violently at me to answer.

"I don't know what I f-feel. I-I'm c-cold," I replied, trembling and stuttering.

"Aw," Marcus responded simultaneously with the boys, a chorus of chuckles ensuing his mockery.

"This is boring, let's do the interview differently. Someone toss me an item from the locked file cabinet over there," Marcos said, raising his brows.

Ethan, a writer who had a pregnant wife, shocked me when he scurried to perform the task. He came back and presented a thick long dildo to Marcos.

"Thanks, Ethan. I hope someone got the shock on her face at seeing the one male writer she trusted over everyone else at this event, ready to see her fucked raw like everyone else," Marcos said with a laugh, walking over to me.

He had gotten on his jeans at one point and handed me the dildo, bringing a chair and pushing me down into it. My ass sunk into the leather. I protested and was smacked across the face.

"There are 11 boys and only one of you. I'd shut up and do as I say, Spanky," he said, continuing on with his demands.

"Okay, cunt, lean back and put feet up on the edge, spread 'em nice and wide," Marcos directed, pulling down the back of the chair which leaned accordingly.

My face stung with a searing pain. I did what I was told. I wanted to get this over with. The day had already been long, but now, it was dragging me through hell. I situated myself into the chair, bending my legs at my knees and opening my thighs as far apart as I could. Pairs of eyes studied my pink gleaming flesh, the lips of my pussy spreading apart. My clit was swollen and pulsating. I steamed with embarrassment, heat flaring up in my cheeks and tits.

"Now, you're going to answer questions as you fuck that juicy, wet, tight cunt of yours, got it? When I call out go, you'll go faster and deeper. If you don't, I'll let all of these guys fuck you at once, and don't skip any of the questions," said Marcos, stepping away and returning his gaze to the guys circling around. "Steve, I need you to take pictures, grab the 35 mm, the flash needs to be on since it's dark in here."

The questions started when I pushed in the tip of the plastic cock past the barrier of my pussy lips. I grit my teeth and closed my eyes, unwilling to watch them watch me.

"Laura, how does it feel to have a bunch of guys watching you fuck yourself?" a singular voice asked.

"I hate it! I hate all of you!" I replied, pushing the dildo in a few more inches. It was very long.

They laughed at my hostile confession.

"Fine, slut, tell us how that cock feels in your cunt! You're fucking soaking wet!" someone yelled.

Another round of jeering laughter rang out in the room.

Suddenly, a flash blinded me, and the barrage of questioning began.

"What would your mother think of you right now, bare assed in a chair and fucking yourself to guys who are practically strangers?"

"Does it matter that we're strangers or are you slutty enough to fuck anyone?"

"Did you think Marcos really liked you! He only wanted to see your tits. He's been saying it for weeks!"

"When did you start developing such nice tits anyway?"

"She's moaning, she likes it! Why don't you fuck that dildo faster, bitch!"

"ANSWER THE QUESTIONS, WHORE!" Marcos commanded in a booming voice.

My breath had become ragged after awhile, and I could barely see anything as light continued to flash all around me, taking pictures of my face when I cringed, capturing my breasts as they jiggled around from my bouncing body, and my spread eagle pussy, dripping with cum. It was like I was on a pedestal being some sort of artwork in a museum, and everyone was admiring me, but they weren't really. They were ruthlessly flinging questions at me, and I struggled to answer coherently while Marcos would shout 'Go!' making me plunge the dildo all the way in.

12
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