The following totally fictitious writings of Faibhar are intended for the sole readership of those of LEGAL AGE. The ADULT ONLY material contained within is also for personal use only where local standards permit scenes of extreme violence, torture, and sex. Please do not read further if any of these subjects offend, or if you are not of legal age. Any similarity between actual persons or names is purely coincidental. NOTE: Many of the same names and characters used in the following are also used in the series featuring Annika. If interested, these stories may be located in the bdsmlibrary.com archives. Your sole enjoyment and cooperation in not using this story in any other application without the express permission of the author is requested. Thank you. Faibhar HR Meets Sales Twenty-four year old Lara Simmons finished the last of the latte and switched off her desk lamp. The long weekend officially started hours ago. Dusk settling automatically lit the amber security lights of the industrial park beyond her Sego office. Reflection from them sparkled off of her new bracelet. She was almost out the door when the phone on her desk buzzed. In a much larger and brighter office area down the hall from the nearly deserted building Jack Lang, VP of Sales at Sego hushed his troops, waving his free hand while his other steadied the cradled phone between his neck and shoulder. Handsome in an investment advisor/insurance properties gelled sort of way, the thirtyish sandy-haired executive controlled his whispered voice into the phone's mouthpiece. Finishing the call, Lang hung up and beamed as he faced the five of his sales staff; four studs and his beautiful fiance, the ravishing Heather. "She just finished all of that coffee I spiked. Our little HR assistant should be here any minute." Lara checked her petite wrist watch and decided the numbers were too little to read. Besides, a few more minutes with one of the higher ups couldn't hurt. That sales VP did say he wanted to check some figures on W-2's and 401K's. Odd that he would think of doing so now. Gathering up her things she locked the office door, wishing that her missing boss Annika was back. She was just an assistant in Human Resources after all, not officially in command. Assistants weren't paid to spend long hours of overtime. Regardless of what Lang wanted she was more than ready to leave and not about to waste more weekend time with him than absolutely necessary, even at the cost of earning some brownie points. Her heels batted down the empty corridor carpet. Sales was on her way out in more ways than one. Rather than account executives they liked to call themselves, and have others call them, retail advocates. Frenetic Tony, the newest hot-shot retail advocate and the only one with cargo pants making his other business attire even more ridiculous looking, finished another slice of pepperoni and pine apple pizza. Without wiping his mouth he guzzled more yellow elixir from his spiked can of Mountain Dew and observed, "Should be plenty for all of us. Bing badda, boom." Alfred belched and took another slice of pizza despite the way his stomach rumbled. It must be the garlic that gave him so much heartburn. The sliver-haired T.O. was senior to most of them, especially Tony, the fresh one hired only six months ago. Alfred, who also was a retail advocate when not closing deals for others, preferred booze to the stuff that the kid drank. Preferably brown and neat. Like the one he just emptied from his glass. Poon he had seen more than Tony ever would in his lifetime. By contrast to Lara's office the sales room was brighter and larger by ten fold. Empty cubicles filled now only by snoozing work stations formed a perimeter. Flat silver colored panels draped the rest of the world out. Had they been opened, they would have shown what was called the pit during office hours but whose furniture now bore a scatter of pizza boxes and liquor bottles. Luminescent ceiling panels directly fluoresced space, clutter and people. Had the window covering been open it would have also revealed the figure of an attractive young woman slumped in an office chair shoved against the white board, head slumped down. Dark blond hair cascaded over the panel top she wore. Bare legs angled askew as they parted from the dark skirt. "Let's point out some of our woozy HR assistant's assets," Jack said, laser pointer in hand. He aimed the small silver device. Red dots danced over Lara's top and energetically dipped down to the sheer stockings covering her kneecaps. Alfred burped and mumbled something to Tony about it being time to close this deal. He'd had enough of Jack Lang's presentation. Instinct told him that was wasting. Heather joined the two. She brushed away black hair covering part of her forehead and snaked an arm gently around the back of Jack's starched collar. Reaching around and giving his gold silk tie a little jerk she said as she pecked his cheek, "I think she's already qualified, lover." Heather's soft Texas accent showed. "Now's time to put up or shut up." In her drugged stupor Lara's haphazard swings clearly missed their intended targets as she was lifted up and out of the chair. From somewhere she could not see, fingers clawed at her top. Other hands groped her skirt. It was nearly impossible to hold her head up. Soon she stood bowed and half naked. Jack Lang grabbed a bottle of Beefeater's and tossed it to Fred, another of the retail advocates. "Looks like our HR assistant could use some more encouragement." He relaxed on the edge of the long pit desk now covered in party detritus and watched doughy Fred attempt to force the tall blond to drink. Not surprisingly, vodka sprayed from her mouth almost as soon as it poured between her lips. Fred and Alfred then forced her head back and pinched her nose. Jack watched as this time the liquor went down her throat. "Can we boss? Can we?" Tony pleaded between speedy bites of pizza and gulps of soda. "Sure, why not?" Jack grinned and nodded his approval as the unlikely trio of tubby Fred and Alfred and the barely clad Lara stumbled toward the office copier with Tony eagerly tagging behind. They ripped away her garter belt and stockings. Panties followed. In front Jack could see the narrow strip of brown curls crowning long legs. Dimples winked at the small of her back. Only her lacy bra remained as she was hoisted up and sat atop the copying machine. A noise within the unit rumbled. The unit chunked and clunked. Bright light flashed and went from one end to the other underneath her. The light repeated with each successive pass. Heather kissed Jack's cheek again and whispered in his ear that it was time to get really serious. When he nodded and kissed her back on the lips she bared white teeth, pumped an arm, kicked out a leg and gleefully said so that all could hear, "Cha-chinng!" The unrelenting glare of the fluorescent panels continued in Jack Lang's office. Spread-eagled across his ebony desk lay the now nude Lara Simmons. Nylon stockings tied her wrists to the desk legs. Phone cords tied ankles. Bare breasts flattened as the tops of her shoulders lay off the edge of the desk. Brownish nipples pointed toward the seat back of Jack's executive chair. Sharp ribs led to a sunken stomach under which her lower back arched above the sleek black surface. Thighs pointed at 45 degree angles over the other desk edge. "Let's toss a coin to see who gets first," Tony chattered, so entranced to forgo at least for the moment even considering any more refreshments. He stood poised over the naked torso, coin in hand. "Call it!" Jack Lang was first to speak. "I think it only right that Heather be the first." He smiled, picked his teeth with an envelope and said in a gentlemanly way only those from Dallas can affect, "Hon, show these good ole boys here just what you can do. Go ahead and scratch that there special itch..." No ham she, Heather's lips slowly widened. Eyeing all of the men, she fingered the top button of her blouse and began a slow strip. Teasing them with her body and eyes, Heather removed her top and unbuttoned her bra. "Boys I know you like 'em." She brazenly cupped her warm tits, softly smoothing hands over the creamy flesh with their hard nipples. Heather used her right hand, forming a wedge with the first three fingers. "Let's just open this one up a little more for y'all." French nails entered hot pink parting Lara's splayed legs. With determined intensity Heather moved her hand forward, ignoring protesting moans from the other side of the desk. All but Jack Lang stood in awe as the half-naked Heather fisted the restrained HR assistant. Tony distractedly munched on another slice of pizza as he watched Heather's fist disappear first. Her forearm followed. And then the pumping began. The moans were joined by ever increasing sloshing sounds of the arm acting like a lubricated piston, drawing out before plunging back in. Heather's forearm glistened as she worked. Alfred cursed under his breath and sat in the chair behind the desk. Between his legs he could see the veins pulsing in Lara's neck. Hands under her head, he lifted it up and inserted his cock between her lips. He licked the dew forming on her raised chin and then proceeded to ram into her mouth as Heather fisted her other end. "Look! These are like two control knobs." Tony took his turn in the chair. Setting aside for the moment more slices of pizza and soda, he twisted and turned Lara's nipples as he battered her head. He cared little, but by the time it was his turn sperm spent from the other retail advocates blanketed Lara's eyes and forehead. Freeing the twisted nipples he reached forward and patted her stretched stomach. "Let's give her a pink belly!" "Let's do the pink belly thing with this, instead." Heather shoved away balding Fred as he was thrashing into Lara's pussy and removed a silver belt from her waist. She swung the thin leather like a whip. It cracked across Lara's midriff, just above the navel. A second swing crossed over the first welt. Tony quickly removed his hands so that they too would not be hit. "Hang tight. I've got another idea." Heather snapped on her bra and pulled on her top. Whipping the girl left her winded. She left the buttons on her blouse stay undone. It was cooler that way. Holding up a stapler, she climbed on the desk so that her stomach lay on Lara's. Pinching one nipple, she squeezed hard. The stapler connected. Heather felt Lara buck under her. Giddy at her own device, she stapled the other nipple. Alfred down another bourbon and muttered, "That's got to hurt". "Well actually TWO ideas." Heather took the small tube of Super Glue in her hand and poured it between the widened labia, holding the lips together as the glue set. "It's gonna burn, that's for sure. She can still piss and shit, but in order to fuck she's gonna have to somehow get rid of that glue." The drive to the airport later that night was uneventful. A used pizza napkin wiped most of the spent sperm and smeared makeup from Lara's face. Tony and Fred held her up while Heather dressed Lara in the clothes she had worn, minus any underwear. The ensemble rode mostly in silence to the airport in Jack Lang's Lincoln with the barely conscious Lara seated in the back between Heather and Alfred. Once they arrived, overweight Fred excused himself from what was to follow. In the locker area Jack Lang said to Lara, "If you feel like throwing up, now's the time. I don't want your puke flying back up at me." He finished buckling the double harness to his navy blue jump suit. Lara weakly raised her helmeted head. She ached all over. The VP dressed as a skydiver stood before her. Others wore similar getups. Only she wore street clothes, and no panties at that. "We're going to jump together. The helmet will keep your hair from blowing back up so I can see the altimeter. Remember to lay your body out. Belly to the ground. I'll do the rest." Dress in a scarlet suit striped in white, Heather walked up. She smiled and kissed Lara's cheek even as the other woman snapped her head angrily away. Looking up at Jack Lang she said with a smile, "We're good to go. Alfred will be flying." Noise inside the Cessna drowned out most conversation. Jack Lang cupped his hands and shouted into Lara's ear. She did as told and placed her bare feet ontop his jump boots. He strapped her body tight to his and lifted up her skirt. Lara's scream drowned out the aircraft noise as her ass was penetrated. Heather wrapped a warm scarf tightly around Jack Lang's balls mashed as they were into Lara's ass. A green light flashed inside the cabin. Retail advocates dressed as skydivers shuffled toward the opened cargo door. Frigid air blasted the nighttime skydivers. Three of them quickly popped flares. A loose circle was formed. All but one wore the proper equipment. At a designated altitude all pulled their ripcords. The bodies suddenly jerked from a position parallel to the ground to more or less perpendicular to the ground still far below as their chutes began to open. Loud as it was, Lara's scream failed to rise above the slipstream. Jack Lang did not believe he could penetrate any deeper into the warm anal cavity of the HR assistant. That is, until his feet hit the ground. Both rolled on the desert floor. He felt her body racked with sobs as it was strapped to him. He also felt the warm satisfaction of his own sensational orgasm. That plus the skydiving was truly sweet. He'd have to tell Heather. The next morning proved to be a clear day. Early sun heated the salt flats. Jack Lang addressed his people, and the much bedraggled, but somewhat more coherent Lara. "This is where we let her go." Tony pulled off the sweatshirt he had donned on waking and said, "But...won't she tell?" His boss patronizingly smiled at his newest retail advocate. "Whose she gonna tell? And that's if she even makes it back." Tony at first did not seem to get the message until Alfred groggily reminded him of the date drug and all the else. Jack Lang took Lara by the shoulders, spun her toward a distant horizon and said, "Thanks for the good time. Have fun in HR." With a shove, the Sales VP sent her stumbling on her way.
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