Chapter 12: Mr. Griffin Caught Me 005

I strip what remains of my clothes, and even I can see my cream spilling out on my inner thighs, shining like a glaze. It feels suddenly cold, and I shudder with anticipation.

He reaches out and absently fondles my tit while deciding what he wants next.

“Open up that drawer and take out a condom.”

I guess I don’t hide my excitement, because when I turn back, ready to put the condom on him, his expression has darkened.

“Your punishment isn’t over, Erica.” He says. “Open up the other drawer and take out one of the bottles. Put both items on the desk, and turn around.”

I do as I am told, and I’m honestly so nervous my stomach is doing the butterfly thing, which I’m used to, but it’s also making me horny beyond belief, which I’m not. My clit is throbbing, literally throbbing, so much that it’s almost starting to hurt. If I don’t get some release soon...I don’t know what.

“Lay your forearms flat on the desk and bend over.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep your legs together, Erica.” He admonishes, and, puzzled, I squeeze my thighs together, bent over at more than a right angle. He reaches over me and grabs first the condom, then the little bottle of tequila, and I get hopeful when I hear the tear of the condom wrapper. I feel his other hand on my ass, gently caressing one cheek, than the other, brushing his hand over my wet, closed pussy.

“Daniel warmed you up today, didn’t he?”

I gulp.

“Yes, sir.”

Smack! He spanks me, harder than before, and the sound rings out through the office. He hits me again, so hard that I jolt forward and whimper a little, involuntarily.

“Keep quiet, Erica. And keep your legs closed.”

I nod, I hadn’t meant to whimper, and I squeeze my thighs together as much as I can. That’s when I feel a finger at the squished entrance to my cunt, probing around. Suddenly he pushes inside me, and it’s one finger, but because my legs are closed it feels like three. I do my best not to gasp, but my pussy closes around him and tries to suck him in further.

He chuckles.

And then pulls his finger out, the bastard.

But then I feel something cold and hard pressing where his finger was, and I realize: the bottle. It twists against the entrance to my cunt, the corners of it like spokes, and when I groan a little as he shoves it in. I don’t know how deep it is, but I can feel those four corners, pressing against my insides and the tight opening of my pussy. It’s not stretching me, but it feels somehow huge, like I can feel it in every fold of flesh, inside and out.

It’s incredible.

I don’t have but a moment to enjoy it before he spanks my ass, so hard that I jolt forward again. With the bottle inside me.

I can’t help it, I cry out.

He grabs me by the shoulder, to steady me.

“Very naughty,” he murmurs, and then he spanks me again.

And again.

And again.

The blows start to come with such frequency, I don’t know how he’s doing it, and it starts to hurt, really hurt, and I’m so close to screaming out my safe word, when suddenly it begins to cross over, and the pain becomes...God, I don’t know what’s happening, but I feel like I could come right there. Every blow heightens it, and while part of me pulls away, part of me yearns for the next, and the next.

As if reading my mind, he suddenly stops, and I almost object until I feel the bottle start to twist inside me.

Oh, God.

It’s twisting, the corners rotating, and he starts to fuck me with it, shallow and fast, and suddenly I’m on the fast lane to coming, I’m right there on the precipice, almost having gotten there too fast, when he stops and pulls the bottle out.

“You come on my dick,” he growls, and he yanks me up off the desk, one hand on my shoulder, one hand gripping the bottom of my ass. He pushes me, tottering on my heels, to the middle of the room, and bends me over the back of his red leather couch.

“Legs apart.” He orders.

I spread them, as much as I can, bent over the high back of that couch, and he shoves his hands underneath them and lifts me further, spreading my legs as far as they will go. I can’t move in this position, my feet are in the air, I can barely balance myself on the leather seats of the couch, and I had no idea he was this strong. He lifts and positions me however he wants. I am totally, totally exposed, open as far as I will go, completely vulnerable. As if he hadn’t already driven me crazy enough, now I’m out of my mind. He’s just lifting me there, leaving me guessing, and I’m about to beg when suddenly he yanks me back onto his dick, and plunges fully inside me.

“Mr. Griffin!” I scream out. I can’t help it.

He doesn’t say anything, he just slams into me, again, and again, and again, and the sting on my ass spikes the sweet feel of his dick filling me, pounding me, and I’m intensely drunk on all of it. I’ve experimented with a lot of things, and this is the most powerful drug I’ve ever been on. I feel possessed by it, like there’s a raging sex demon inside me, bouncing around, looking for a way out, and my orgasm rushes in to my pussy. It’s so quick and so intense it hits me like a truck, like that demon screaming for release through my cunt, and I scream, God do I scream, because the tension filling my whole body actually hurts. I buck and writhe, and my legs kick back and then slam straight, and as I push into the couch below me with strength I’ve never had before, lifting my torso up, my pussy slams down on his dick with a final, shuddering, scream.

And then it’s fully on me, in waves, and I’m beyond gone. I milk him – I know I milk him – and I think I hear him scream my name, but I’m so far gone it’s like I’m floating above my body, somewhere close to nirvana.

When I come back down, Mr. Griffin is slumped over me, and my face is pressed into the couch. I’m drooling a little, and my body feels limp and deliciously used. My brain isn’t fully working yet. This is what it felt like when I woke up after having my wisdom teeth pulled, after being fully under.

Holy shit, can Mr. Griffin fuck.

He recovers first, the second time today – the second time this afternoon – that a guy has fucked me so hard that I can barely move. It almost makes sense with a younger guy, but damn, Mr. Griffin is fifty years old. The man is just a force of nature.

It’s cold where he was lying on my body, and I hear him tie off the condom and throw it in the trash. I hear him zipper up, and mess about over at the desk before coming back to me.

I still haven’t moved.

His hand rests lightly on my tender ass, and he caresses it, gently now.

“Come on, Erica,” he says kindly, and slips an arm under my stomach, helping me get off the couch. I still feel kind of weak, and I put at hand out to steady myself. He holds me up, and I see that he’s brought my clothes over to the couch.

“Get dressed.” He orders, and gently pats my bottom before walking back to his desk.

I do, slowly. There’s no way I’m going to look presentable, having just been fucked to oblivion, again, and I’m grateful I only have to go down the hall to my locker in the teacher’s lounge. I just pray I don’t run into anyone else.

As if reading my mind, he chuckles.

“I think everyone else is safely out on the football field, celebrating.” He says, and pours himself another glass of tequila.

Oh my God, is that the bottle?

Again as if reading my mind, he pauses with the drink at his lips, looks at me, and winks.

“Run along, Erica.” He says. “But I’ll be keeping my eye on you. In case you misbehave.”

I give him a sly grin as I head for the door.

“I might just have to do that.” I say.

“What?”

“Misbehave.”

I give him my own wink, and run out the door.

THE END