Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction. Any names are completely made up and bare no relation to anyone alive or otherwise.
As the taxi pulled up on the gravel driveway Rachel stepped out and peered up in awe at the magnificent mansion. Who would’ve thought a company that made simple plastic moulded toys would’ve had such a grand headquarters. It was simply magnificent. Ornate brickwork, leaded windows and immaculate grounds. It was only the voice of the cabbie offering to help with her bags that broke the spell. “Would you like a hand in with those miss?’ the cabbie enquired.
“Oh… oh, yes please. That’s very kind.”
Rachel was on her way to present a pitch to the marketing team of a lesser known brand of children’s toys. And Rachels company, Smith, Brown and Greene, were after securing the marketing contract for their business.
The cabbie grabbed the unwieldy portfolio case and followed Rachel past the row of extremely expense looking cars and up to the imposing front door. A tall security guard opened the door from within and ushered her through.
She tipped the cabbie and thanked him.
She just felt her nerves flutter a little. She hadn’t expected anything like this and it wrong footed her somewhat.
The security guy was about 6’3”. Black and extremely well build. But the intimidating look was offset with a big welcoming smile.
Then a snarl from behind her. As her eyes adjusted to the dark hallway she spun around in shock and made out the bared teeth of a large Doberman. Her hands went to her chest, and the portfolio clattered to the ground.
“Karl! No!” The security guard commanded his demeanour changing instantly, his powerful tone making the dog obey.
As the security man apologised to Rachel he picked up all her things she’d spilt on the floor. He introduced himself as Steven, as he led her down to a small ante room next to one of the many big meeting rooms.
Rachel tried to compose herself. Steven left her alone and she began to prepare. She didn’t have too much time, another minor irritation, she always liked plenty of time to get her presentations pitch perfect.
She thought she’d find the bathroom and touch up her make-up and try and calm down. In the corridor a sign pointed her the right way.
She studied her own reflection in the bathroom mirror. ‘Yes. Very businesslike. I’ll knock ‘em dead’ she tried to convince herself. And indeed she did look the part with her striking appearance. Very short cropped black hair, slightly longer on top, thick rimmed glasses in the ‘cat eye’ style, black jacket, tight knee length skirt with a white blouse. A big necklace that said ‘I may look business, but I’m unorthodox’ hung around her neck. Full lips with a generous coating of deep red lipstick, a chiseled nose and jawline. And who could forget to mention her eye popping 36DD breasts, straining the buttons on her poor blouse. She just pulled up the hem of her skirt to secure her suspender clasp at the top of her fully fashioned seamed stockings when she heard a knock at the door.
“We’re ready for you Ms West.” Came a voice from the other side.
“OK, OK I’ll be right there.”
’Shit shit shit’ she thought to herself as she hurriedly grabbed the portfolio and backed through the door into the meeting room.
The words of her boss, Mr Greene were ringing in her ears. ‘Don’t come back without the business.’
As she turned she cast her eyes across her audience. Six men, sat on the opposite side of the table. All of them looked early sixties, late fifties and one man looked like he was knocking on for seventy. But all very smartly dressed from what she could see. But there was no friendly smile. No face she could look to for support. Just hard stares. Emotionless.
They introduced themselves and Rachel gave them a brief outline of her company, her role and a brief outline of her pitch as she began to plug her laptop into the HDMI cable running from the large monitor behind her.
She could feel herself rushing. Getting hot and bothered as the cable took an age, and no small amount of effort, to attach. Attentively and politely they all sat, paying her full attention.
Rachel opened the laptop. After what seemed an age she found the presentation and began. Her composure had evaporated. She was utterly flustered but plowed on none the less.
Then on slide three, well there was no slide three. So she had to make a long-winded apology for that. Oh there it was after slide four.
It all began to look a shambles.
Various bits of data was missing. One slide was upside down. And she swore she heard some of them sniggering.
All she could hear were the words of her boss. ‘Don’t come back without the account,’
“Look I’m really sorry but…”
“Now. Just hold on.” Mr Jones, the company CEO interrupted from the head of the table.
“You’ve asked us to give up an hour of our time, so you can try and convince us to pay you money?” Mr Jones stood as he was talking and began slowly pacing around the table.
“My board of directors here are busy men. Successful men. They don’t need their time wasted by young women rambling on with ill thought through presentations. Tell me. How much were you hoping Smith, Brown and Greene, or whatever you call yourselves, going to get paid for this?”
Mr Jones had finally made his way around the table and was now standing right in front of Rachel. He lifted his hand beneath her chin, his finger raised her gaze from the floor to look him in the eye.
“Ah… about £750,000…” Rachel stammered. She could feel herself welling up.
“Three quarters of a million pounds.” He mused. “For that sort of money I’d expect a lot more than that.”
He paused and reflected for a moment.
“I have an idea. Let’s go though the presentation again. But this time we’d like to see these out.”
Rachel was in shock. Mr Jones was cupping her tit with his right hand. Gently bouncing it up and down.
“I’m sure the directors would agree.” He turned to face them, they murmured their approval. Then he turned back to her. “Don’t you think so Rachel.”
“Slip that jacket off and open a few of those buttons. Then you can start all over.”
Rachel was aghast. “But… but…”
Mr Jones turned back to the audience of old men, theirs heads slowly nodding approval. “Just the one to start with?”
His hands already unfastening the buttons. “Let’s have this left tit out shall we my dear.” His condescending tone making her feel powerless.
A tear rolled down her face as his hands exposed the sheer bra. His right hand scooping her fleshy tit free of the cup. He moved behind her and reached around his fingers kneading her soft skin. His voice soothing in her ear. “Look at their faces. They like that.” His fingers eased towards the deep pink conical nipple. He gently rolled it around between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah. Look at them. I bet you could sell them anything now.”
Then he took two paces back.
Rachel tried with all her being to forget how she looked.
‘Don’t come back without the account,’ those words echoed around her head.
She tried to compose herself. The men were very focussed on her.
She began again. “Hello, my name is Rachel West and I work for a marketing firm called Smith, Browne and Greene. We have a number of high profile clients…”
And so it began again.
Until roughly two minutes into the presentation Mr Jones interrupted again.
“Yes yes yes Rachel. It’s good…” interrupted Mr Jones, still stood at her side, “but how about you get the other one out too? There’s a good girl.”
Once again, Rachel was taken aback. She thought she’d done all they’d asked. Just when she felt she’d overcome one hurdle here was another.
But she’d embarrassed herself already. This barrier was easier to cross.
Her right hand pulled at her blouse revealing the sheer bra covering her right breast. The deep pink nipple clearly visible beneath the gossamer-like fabric. Her right hand pulled at the fabric, her left hand eased her copious bosom free.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
She tried her hardest to carry on.
“Why not try standing on the table for us love?” Came another condescending remark.
She looked to mr Jones for some sort of moral support. Hadn’t she done enough? But there was nothing forthcoming. Just the hand of Mr Jones to help her up onto the boardroom table.
“Yeah. A little walk up and down and we’ll forget all about that awful presentation of yours.”
“Yeah. A nice little show for us. That’s what we’d like.”
“It’s about time you did something worthwhile!”
“It’s the least she can do, I think”
The room began to get a little more vociferous.
“Mmmm. Just look at those.”
“Give them a wobble for us.”
“Are they suspender bumps under that skirt?”
Rachel carefully made her way up and down the table. Doing her best to avoid kicking any glasses of water over, putting those high heels on any paperwork or listening to the lewd comments directed at her.
“Skirt off, skirt off, skirt off…” a few of the men began to chant. The mood in the room had turned to a room of braying men in a very short period of time. The palms of hands were beating on the table top. Rachel looked down at Mr Jones who, with upturned palms gave her an expression of ‘well what do you want me to do about it?’
There was only one thing she could do. He hands slipped behind her back as she fumbled for the buttons that held her skirt up. And with a tug on the zip her skirt began to lower.
Catcalling grew more crude as she lowered the skirt bending as she did so. “Phwoar. Look at that arse!” “C’mon down gorgeous and let’s have a feel” “Marks out of ten? I’d give her one!”
She was looking around for a look of comfort from somewhere. She cast her eye towards Mr Jones. Could he help? He wasn’t joining in with the others. He was smiling, but he offered her a hand down from displaying herself up on the table. Maybe this would soon be over she thought as she spun her stocking legs over the edge of the table and onto the floor.
Mr Jones held her as she stood there. “Now look what you’ve done Rachel.” he whispered in her ear ”They’re all over excited. What are we going to do now?”
Rachel knew it wasn’t really a question.
“Lets get those knickers down shall we. I’m sure Mr Taylor here can help. Whilst Mr Watkins can offer you a little support. Maybe a helping hand.Or two.”
He felt fingers ease the elastic of her knickers down. Hands pulled her open blouse off her shoulders. Hands cupping her generous tits. Fingers rolling her nipples.
“Oooh. No. Stop…” she mumbled. “no… please… stop” She could feel hot breath on her neck. A mouth began sucking her earlobe. More hands on her. Hands on her tits. Hands on her back, stomach and legs. Fingers working their way up between her legs.
She found herself being eased forward. Bent forward.
Her eyes rolled skyward. Her hands were guided by the wrists onto two thick warm throbbing cocks.
Mr Jones held her head, the old man pulling her forward and he planted his lips on hers.Rachel was powerless. Almost trance like, her lips parted allowing Mr Jones’s tongue to explore her mouth. She could feel hot breath between her legs. A warm wet tongue brushed the tops of her legs, and the found her wetness. Hot wet lips encased her mound and the soft motion of tongue on her clitoris hood was exquisite. She opened her legs and arched her back allowing a dirty old man greater access to her cunt.
She wasn’t sure if it was her or the room had actually gone quieter as she was being so expertly eaten from behind. But that’s all she could focus her mind on.
“Fuck yeah. Look at her. She fucking loves it.”
She felt her assailants nose finding her moist groove and then he pushed his nose in as far as it would go. After five minutes of the teasing she had something to push against, gently she began rubbing her cunt hole up and down his nose.
With her eyes closed, Rachel hadn’t seen Mr Jones unzip his fly and ease out a think six inch cock in front of her face.
“Open wide. There’s a good girl.” She heard a vice murmur. Rachel’s mouth opened to accept the gift. Her tongue flicking across the shiny head before it disappeared between her deep red lips.
The room was quiet, apart from the odd lewd comment and the slurping and squishing noises. Everyone focused on Rachel.
More cocks pushed their way into her face.Big fat old ugly cock heads rubbed her cheeks. Across her lips. Over her glasses. Along her nose. Occasionally she swapped, letting one cock slip out with others trying to force their way in. Some of the cocks smeared in her deep red lipstick.
Meanwhile her tits got plenty of attention. Nipples were pawed and groped, the soft skin kneaded, cupped and caressed.
And the old man behind her now had his tongue flicking across her anus. His fingers deftly worked her cunt but it was the rimming she loved. Every time he stopped he could sense the young woman move her hips trying to find his tongue. And when she found it he could feel her push towards it. Trying to get as deep as she could.
“Lets get her on the couch. We can do her properly on there.” she heard a voice say. And almost instantly the young lady was helped up. She could hardly see thanks to the premium smearing her glasses, but hands led her towards the couch, were MrJones was already waiting. She looked glorious. Her bra was yanked down below her tits, forcing them slightly proud. Her white suspender belt was intact as were her stockings and heels. And she still had her necklace on. But that’s about it.
“Now, let’s have you sitting on this shall we.” he said, a dirty grin on his face. And without hesitation she straddled him and eased the thick veiny member between her cunt lips. Her chest rose up and down in Mr Jones face. And he couldn’t resist sucking and squeezing them.
Multiple cocks were offered to her mouth from behind the couch and now she could take a little more time. Running her tongue up and down the shaft, licking the old mans stretched out ball bag.
Then she turned to the guys watching and stroking. “I’d love a stiff cock up my arse.” She gave the old men a filthy pout, and for good measure a little pleading look. “Please.”
There were no shortage of takers. Trousers round their ankles, the wrinkly old bastards were queuing up for a go on her. Mr Watkins went first, his seven inch cock swaying like a crane arm until the deep red head nestled between her buttocks. “Ohh yes please Mr Watkins.” Rachel moaned looking over her shoulder, “I need it up my arse.” She held still from Bouncing up and down Mr Jones’s member, just long enough for Mr Watkins to ease the bulbous head inside her little brown flower. Rachel rolled her eyes back in her head. “You fucking dirty old bastards.”
It was at the point one of the old men went over the edge. His cock spasmed upwards again and again, pumping his thick load over her lips, chin, glasses and nose. Rachel used a free hand to scoop into her mouth. But long strings of sticky cum spilt from her chin and down onto her tits.
She looked down at Mr Jones, impressed he’d managed to last so long. “If I let you unload up my arse, do I win the account?” She asked coyly, thick spunk strings swinging from her tits and chin.
“Oh I should think it’ll be a unanimous decision…. C’mon then Let me get it up there.”
Rachel somehow got to her feet and turned away from Mr Jones. Squatting down she eased the thick cock up her backside.With her perfect tits now on display to the crowd and her willing mouth keen to tears the spunk from these old cocks it wasn’t long before she was on the receiving end of more cum. These men hadn’t had a decent fuck in years, and it was evident by the amount of goo they were spraying over Rachel’s face and tits.
Then she felt Mr Jones’s cock begin to flex as he unloaded his balls deep into her arse. Mr Jones slipped his cock out but it was soon replaced with another, using the cum as lube.
“Ohh you dirty fuckers. You’re going to make m…. me … c….cuuuuu cuum.” Rachel’s body went into spasm. As her legs quivered she lost a shoe.
Watching the young woman cum like that sent the last of them off. There was spunk in her hair, over her legs. In her eyes. Her ears. And she could hardly see out of her glasses.
It took all of them a little while to compose themselves. They helped Rachel to the toilet where she cleaned herself up , while the men all pulled up trousers and used handkerchiefs to clean up any mess.
As Rachel walked back into the room Mr Jones was first to congratulate her on winning the business. “Well my dear. That was a presentation unlike any we’ve had before. I shall be phoning your boss to tell him what and excellent job you’ve done, and how we’d very much like you to erm… give us your opinion shall we say, some other pieces of business that may come up for review in the near future. There’ll be lots for you to do here.”
“Well its been a pleasure Mr Jones. Shall we say maybe another visit then? I’ll pop something in the diary for the 24th? Two weeks time?”
“Perfect.”
Leaving the boardroom Rachel headed out to the waiting taxi. The clack clack clack of her heels alerting Karl the handsome guard dog. She passed Steven, his face lit by the glow from the array of CCTV monitors.
“Your taxi’s here Rachel. Hopefully I’ll see you again.”