This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Her cleavage peeped out over the “v” of her sweater, making his blood boil. With effort, he maintained the posture of the Active Listener: eyes on her face, head tilted to the side, hands on the table. With effort. The magnetism of her form demanded his attention and he hated her for it.
How are women getting away with this? Flaunting their bodies and their “sex positivity” and their new gender roles. Dommes with stilettos pressed against the caged dicks of their sissies. It was never supposed to be like this. Once, Rob would have loved to have his way with this woman - to yank down that little top, exposing her breasts. He would have loved the smell of her shame and fear as he pressed her against a wall, his cock thick and ready. But those days were long gone. This woman wouldn’t be ashamed. She’d probably devoured 50 Shades of Grey in a book club and posted shibari’d pictures of herself on FetLife and wrote disgusting sex stories in her free time. If he pushed her against a wall, she’d say hideous things like “take me, Daddy” and act contrite when punished, but he could tell the difference. She would like it.
They weren’t supposed to like it.
Everything’s been fucked up since that stupid book came out. That’s when the floodgates opened. People suddenly decided their dirty thoughts could be redeemed by writing them down and calling it literature, but it would never be anything more than filth. He squeezed his fountain pen furiously, but his expression remained pleasantly engaged.
The woman looked at him and gave a nod.
“Thank you, Stacy,” he replied.
Rob tapped his pen slowly on the table, relishing the attention of his audience. Eight pairs of eyes on him. Waiting for him. Ready to do his bidding.
“I would now like to draw your attention to our list of prohibited businesses. I worry we are still being too lenient. Tripe Payment Processing has a moral obligation to ensure we are not financing dangerous activities - pyramid schemes, firearms, gambling, prostitution. Pornography.”
He looked around the table, daring someone to defy him.
“And I believe we could be doing more. It has come to my attention that Tripe is still supporting a large segment of pornographic sales: pornographic ‘literature.’ I’ll spare you the details, but I have done some research into the matter and the use of the word ‘literature’ in this case is an insult. It is absolutely pornography, plain and simple, and Tripe has no business supporting such commerce. I propose that we update the language of our Terms of Service to enumerate the types of mature content that will not be supported by Tripe, being sure to include pornographic ‘literature’. In a few months time we can begin off-boarding customers in violation of these policies.”
Nods around the table. No disagreement. And why would there be? What kind of person would think enabling such ill-gotten gains could be acceptable?
With the updated Terms of Service tucked under his arm, Rob walked back to his office feeling much lighter. He shut the door behind him and flicked the lock, then sat at his computer. Without thinking, his fingers tapped on the well-smudged keys and the little orange logo appeared on his screen, followed by tiles of naked men and women. Women with dicks in their throats and pussies. Women with cum splattering their tits. Men filling asses with huge cocks.
Rob unzipped his pants and tugged out his flaccid cock. He popped a Viagra from the bottle in his drawer and began to stroke.
Thanks for reading. I’m eager to know what you think of this one. I fear I’ve been very naughty…
💛 Maia
I love this 😂😂😂
You know these execs are the biggest secret perverts in the world.
YES. This is excellent.