The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Adjusters II: The Greek Fiasco

A Day in the Life (2)

“And again, I maintain that this is but a travesty of justice, a shameful wool pulled over our collective eyes, an attempt at misdirection to further political means of the Establishment, inherent on maintaining the same status quo that has kept our great nation down.”

Serena Banks grunted, not bothering to take any notes. This press conference was a joke—so many words to say absolutely nothing. Just another platform for them to spew their intolerance rhetoric.

The other reporters at the conference were already bombarding Steve Bissonette, the speaker and de facto head of the campus branch of the New American Deal Association, with their predictably softball questions. Serena bid her time. There was no rush, and plenty of time to hand Bissonette the cord with which he would hopefully hang himself.

Ten minutes later, after the barrage of questions had petered out, came the lull she had been waiting for. She raised her hand. “Mister Bissonette. Serena Banks from the Darnell Daily. How do you respond to the allegations that your organization was a key player in the prostitution ring busted right before Christmas by the Feds?”

The speaker stared at her with eyes that seemed to seep with anger. “Miss Banks, there is not a shred of evidence that NADA was involved in any illegal activity, let alone prostitution. We hold women sacred, as the strong core at the heart of nuclear families, which are themselves the nuclei of the steel that underlies the American ideal. Those allegations you refer to are slander, pure and simple slander! And we shall have our day in court, and everyone—”

“Mister Bissonette, what about the testimony of one Miss Duquesne, detailing her mistreatment at the hands of NADA?”

Bissonette opened his mouth to respond when a man standing next to him leaned over and whispered in his ear. Bissonette nodded.

“I have been advised,” he said, “to not comment on the impending court case. But we shall prevail, and the truth will out!”

Serena grunted once more, then turned towards the man that had sat down next to her while she was asking her questions. He had a little smile on his face, and he was looking squarely at her. She had seen him before, but could not remember where. He was striking—blonde hair and pale blue eyes, probably Scandinavian. Sharp pants and a nice shirt, high fashion for the campus. He looked too young to be a professor. Then she noted the fraternity ring on his finger. Ah, she said to herself, that must be where I know him from—a Delta Iota Kappa boy.

“May I help you?” she asked, wanting him to go away, trying to keep track of what the next question was and of Bissonette’s response.

“I hope so,” said the young man with the pale blue eyes. He had a slight accent. Definitely Scandinavian, she mused. He was perfectly composed, and looked more serious than the Delta Iota Kappa boys usually were, and seemed too old to be an undergraduate.

Serena turned her attention back to Bissonette, who was explaining in great detail how supporting prostitution would be antithetical to the principles underlying their organization. When he paused to breathe, Serena raised her hand and without waiting to be called upon asked in a loud voice, “do the principles your organization holds apply as well to persons of color and foreigners who were attached in the most part to illegal brothel activity? Could you give us a definition of personhood advocated by NADA that supports that race and ethnicity have no bearing on who your principles apply to?”

Bissonette shot Serena an angry look and continued with his reply to the original question. Serena leaned back in her seat, satisfied with herself. If she was patient enough, she knew, Bissonette would dig his own grave, and probably nail together his own coffin afterwards.

The man next to her spoke up again. “You don’t like him very much, do you?”

She glanced back at him, annoyed. “Who, Bissonette? He’s an idiot. A dangerous idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. And now that the big shots at the head of his association have been arrested, he’s in charge.”

“I don’t think he likes you very much either.”

Serena let out a harsh laugh. “No kidding. I’ve been on the association’s case since last year, and ever since he’s been put in charge he’s been fighting me and eluding me every step of the way. But believe you me: in this game of endurance I’ll outrun him. He’ll be crying uncle before the month is out. Trust me.”

“That should be very interesting to see.”

“Glad you enjoy it. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get back to—”

“Serena, I am your DIK brother.” Serena’s eyes automatically shot down to his hand, seeking then seeing the wide Delta Iota Kappa ring on his finger, upon which she felt a cold wave run through her body, from her head down to her toes, as if a sheet of cold air had enveloped her.

When the cold had dissipated it was replaced by a pleasant warmth, which seemed to emanate from the man next to her. She wanted more of that warmth. She wanted it to turn into a white hot heat that would consume her from within. She would do anything he wanted to feel that heat she could just sense at the edge of her new consciousness. There was only the man now. The rest of the world had faded away. She knew how to get to the white heat, too.

“Hi baby,” she said, trying to make her voice sounds sultry, the way she knew boys liked it. “Do you want to have some fun?” She pressed one of her legs against his, and leaned over towards him, her lips wanting to make contact with his skin. She moistened them.

The man beside her merely smiled. He nodded towards Bissonette at the front of the room, who was answering another reporter. “Serena, just continue doing your job right now. Fun will be had later.”

At his words, the world around her came back into focus, and she could hear Bissonette’s words from the stage once more. He was answering a question about his prior knowledge of the various activities in which his previous superiors had been involved. Serena could not help but think he sounded defensive.

“Although,” the man with the pale blue eyes said, his voice making her heart almost skip a beat, “there’s no reason why we can’t enjoy the rest of this press conference—why don’t you undo, say, the top three buttons of your blouse?”

Serena gave him a smile. The heat emanating from him was washing over her in waves, and made her long for more. She reached up with her hands and did what he asked, undoing three buttons on her blouse and pulling aside the folds. There was no one sitting near them, although that would not have changed anything. With her blouse now open down to the middle of her breasts and exposing her black bra, she knew she would be giving everyone a large expanse of cleavage to feast over. All she cared about though, all that was important, was that the young man with the pale blue eyes next to her found the view to his liking, and she thrust her chest out slightly to emphasize her assets. When she saw that his eyes were roaming all over the exposed flesh of her breasts, she felt warm all over, and her nipples started tingling. She was getting turned on, she realized. She could feel her pussy juice up at the attention the man was giving her.

At the podium, Steve Bissonette seemed to be wrapping up. Serena raised her hand and asked the question she had been holding in reserve.

“Mister Bissonette—one last question, sir. What do you respond to the allegations that your association had been handing out bribes to officers on the municipal police force along with the regional Bureau in exchange for the police to look the other way? Can you deny—”

And here Serena had to mark a pause because the man with the pale blue eyes had casually put one of his hands on her knee, and was caressing up her leg, his palm making full contact with her inner thigh, moving up slowly, pushing up her skirt as he went along. It was maddening—Serena longed to spread her legs wide and press his hands against her pussy before it threatened to burst into flames. She took a deep breath.

“Can you deny that many of the girls that were found in the house rented under your association’s name had never had a missing person’s report filed against them?”

Bissonette seemed to be taken aback by the question, and her experience told her that he was genuinely puzzled by her question. Odd, she thought. Less odd was his eyes straying down to her chest, undoubtedly noticing that her shirt was baring most of her breasts. He could not see down below though, or he would have seen the man next to her—having pushed her skirt straight up and exposed the full length of her legs—running his finger along the edge of her diminutive panties, teasingly sliding his finger under the gusset and touching her soaked pussy. Without realizing it, she was tilting her hips up to provide him better access.

Bissonette, meanwhile, concocted a response that Serena’s analytic mind interpreted as “I have no idea what you’re talking about so I won’t comment.” And that was fine with her, because the man’s finger was driving her crazy.

She worked hard to stifle a moan when his finger slid between her pussy lips and slipped into her her up the second knuckle. Bissonette was taking a few more questions, but clearly was getting ready to bring the press conference to a close. Serena, despite the lust that was overwhelming her, was already composing her article in her head, thinking how the new NADA official had evaded all questions that were not superficial and inoffensive.

And then the press conference was over and the handful of reporters in the room stood up. The man next to Serena unhurriedly pulled his finger out of her panties and straightened up. Serena was breathless, turned on, yet had enough presence of mind to pull her skirt down before anyone around could see her.

“One of the things I love about you, Serena,” the man with the pale blue eyes was saying, “is just how incredibly wet you get. Anyone ever told you what a turn on that is?” He was holding up his finger, wet from her juices. He ran it over her lips, pressing just the tip into her mouth, and she obediently twirled her tongue around the tip, tasting herself. She had done that often, of course, tasted herself, with various lovers—men always loved when she sucked on their cock right after they had fucked her. But that they were in public now, that some of the reporters filing out of the room looked at her questioningly, most likely because her blouse was unbuttoned down to the middle of her breasts, just served to feed the fire now burning inside her and by which she wanted to be consumed.

“If it weren’t for you needing to be somewhere else right now,” continued the man, “I’d have those big lips of yours wrapped around my dick!”

Serena looked at him, trying to convey with her eyes and the suction on the tip of his finger just how delighted she would be to suck him off, just how good of a job she would do. The man seemed to pick up on it, groaning before sighing as he pulled his finger away from her mouth. “Unfortunately, that will have to wait till later. We have a little something to take care of right now. Come with me.”

The man stood up, and Serena followed suit, gathering her things. Outside the conference room, the man turned down a long hallway before going up a flight of stairs, Serena following him silently, her high heels clacking on the bare floors. After trailing down another long hallway he stopped in front of a large wooden door. He unlocked it with a key he pulled out of his wallet, and let Serena in. The room beyond looked like the foyer of a hotel suite, and Serena guessed that this was a salon that university officials used to entertain their VIP guests. Serena wondered how the man with the pale blue eyes had managed to get a key.

“We do have some high-level connections with the administration, of course. In particular, a fairly high-level assistant—a lovely girl, really—has proved more than willing to supply us with perks of all sorts, from key access to certain rooms to the non-negligible assets of her own body. And speaking of assets... stop and turn around, Serena.”

The command sent a trail of fire coursing through Serena’s body. There was little she wanted to do but obey this man. Obeying this man meant burning. And burning was bliss. He stepped to her and finished unbuttoning her blouse. He unsnapped her bra. They were alone, so she had no longer any drive to remain silent. Anything to get him to fuck her.

“So, you like my big tits, don’t you?” she asked, trying to make it sound just like the come-on that it really was.

The man had freed her breasts, and took a few moments to heft them, caress them, thumb her hard nipples in a way that made her gasp.

“Oh yes,” he replied, matter-of-factly, “I like your big tits, I like your wet pussy, too, and I love those cocksucking lips of yours.” He ran his finger over said lips. “It’s like your body was put together for fucking.”

Serena shivered with arousal as the fingers trailed down from her mouth the side of her face, and took a step forward to wrap her arms around the man and pull him close for a kiss.

“But my body really is made for fucking, and it’s damn good at it. Want me to show you how good it can be?” And she pressed against him and kissed him, her tongue thrusting into his mouth, her crotch against his thigh. She wanted him to just truss up her skirt, shove her panties aside and push into her and claim her like the craving need that she was. She lifted her leg, pressing it against his, running it up and down, and she could feel he was reacting, both by his kiss becoming more intense and by his cock hardening against her. She was elated, and so aroused she was certain her juices had drenched through her underwear.

The man finally broke the kiss, his imperturbable demeanor showing signs of cracking. “Damn, you are hot! But now is definitely not the time.” He adjusted his shirt, nodding towards the center of the room. “I want you to go there, take off that blouse and that bra, and kneel down, and keep quiet. Not a word until I tell you to, got that?”

Pleased to do what he wanted her to do, Serena took off her blouse and tossed it on a nearby chair, soon followed by her bra. The exposure hardened her nipples into large red pebbles. She kneeled down after pulling her skirt up over her thighs. Her eyes trained on the man, she saw his eyes roam over her body and take in her large breasts. She thrust her chest out to display them to their best advantage. The man sighed audibly. “You are not making this easy, that’s for sure. Keep your eyes down.”

Serena obeyed, the warmth in her pussy throbbing in response. She heard a knock at the door. The man adjusted his shirt again, and answered. “You are right on time—”

“Cut the crap! I’m only here because I’m curious what kind of excuse you’re going to offer for the shit you’ve pulled. I’m done with your fucking frat, you hear me? The way you just tossed my friends under the bus was just... Well, you’re going to regret it, lemme tell you—” Steve Bissonette had stormed into the room, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Serena kneeling half-naked on the floor.

The man with the pale blue eyes came up alongside him. “Our president is deeply saddened by these events. While your organization’s loss has been painful, it did prevent things that are better left hidden to come to the surface, an exposure that would have been much worse for both our organizations in the long run. By way of apology, and as a show of contrition, we are offering you a chance to spend some quality time with one of your close friends.”

Bissonette’s eyes were on her. She could not see them, but could feel them, and she knew they must have been registering shock, and also lust. She was embarrassed, but this was what the man with the pale blue eyes had told her to do.

“I... I don’t understand,” said Bissonette, at last.

“She’s yours, Bissonette. To do with as you wish for the next—” he checked his watch, “two hours. A gift from Delta Iota Kappa. I’m only asking you to please leave no permanent marks.”

He turned to Serena, who was still just staring at the ground. “Serena, for the next two hours, until I get back here, I want you to obey Mister Bissonette like you would obey me, do you understand? He makes you feel like I do, and can tell you to do anything except go against what I am telling you now.”

Serena felt a flush of heat from Bissonette, equalling that coming from the man with the pale blue eyes. She could not resist the draw, and looked up at the NADA official. He was looking at her with naked lust, and the sight turned the heat washing over her into a burning fire. He liked her! He wanted her! She felt her nipples tighten, and her pussy juice up. She smiled, that smile which always drove men wild, the one that promised that every single dirty thing in their head she could make true. She heard his breath shift, and his eyes dipped back down to her breasts. She cupped them with her hands, caressing them slowly, squeezing them, pushing them together, offering them to him. They were so sensitive, marveled Serena, and felt so good, and she could not suppress a little moan. Through half-closed eyes, she saw Bissonette lick his lips. He liked her chest. She could use that to stoke that fire between her legs.

“You like my tits Steve? You can play with them, if you like.” She put as much seduction into her voice as she could. She had hefted her breasts up, and her pelvis was gyrating slowly, despite her kneeling position on the ground. She was looking at him square in the eyes.

The man with the pale blue eyes cracked a little smile. “Well, now that she is started, I should make myself scarce. Enjoy yourself, Bissonette. I will see you back here in two hours.”

Bissonette nodded, then grabbed the man’s arm. “Wait! What can I... What can I do with her?”

“Anything you want, Bissonette. You can play Parchesi with her for all I care. Just do not damage her. My advice? Let her drive. It’s what she does best.”

Bissonette remained motionless for a few minutes after the man with the pale eyes left the suite. He look at her, fixedly, while she kept kneading her breasts. She could practically already feel his cock sliding between them, snuggled tight after she had pushed them together to form a flesh tunnel into which he could thrust. The mental image made her head spin. She needed to get fucked, and soon.

He finally took a step towards her, and she moaned in anticipation. She looked up at him, her pelvis still gyrating, as if she was fucking some invisible man spread out underneath her.

“Why are you doing this? Did they put you up to this, to trick me?” He looked around, suspicious, as if he was trying to spot hidden cameras.

“Come on, Steve, it’s me. Do you really think I’d be right here, on my knees, playing with my big tits, craving to feel your cock inside me, just to trap you? It’d be so much worse for me than for you, don’t you think? Imagine the headlines: Serena Banks, slutting herself out for the head of NADA. You’d come out as a stud—I’d come out as the black girl who can’t keep her legs together for the big strong white man.” She could see it too, she on her back with her legs spread wide, perhaps holding on to them at the knee, Bissonette lying down on top of her, thrusting into her hard. Her clitoris throbbed. She moaned, and squeezed her breasts harder. “No,” she continued when she had recovered. “I’m here to please you, serve you, obey you. And you’re making me hot right now—the way you look at me, the things that I can see you want to do to me. Come on, Steve, I’m all yours. Do anything you want to me—anything.” She longed to run a finger through her slit, smearing her juices around. She could feel her G-string soaked through and through.

Bissonette seemed to come to a decision, and his face hardened for a second. “Well, I gotta say I love to see you like this, on your knees. Can’t help but feel like it’s your proper place. You’ve been a pain in the ass for me and my friends for a while now, and maybe it’s time you got a bit of what you gave.”

Serena’s eyes lit up, and she stood straighter, arching out her rear. “Oh? You want to fuck my ass? Go right ahead, it’s all yours. And it’s so tight, too—you’re gonna love it!” Her hands never stopped squeezing her breasts. She wanted this man something fierce.

Bissonette shook his head, ran his hand down the side of her face. When his fingers were close to her lips Serena turned her head and slipped them in to her mouth, sucking hard, her eyes closing, her throat making little sounds.

Bissonette let her suck on his fingers for a while. He was smiling now, a little smile that promised nothing good. “I guess Helberg was right—you like to drive. Why does that not surprise me? And that just won’t do. You see, I like my bitches, especially my nigger bitches, to do just what they’re told.” He pushed his fingers deep into Serena’s mouth and she gagged loudly.

He shoved his fingers in and out of her mouth, pressing her head down with his other hand. Serena submitted happily to this treatment, doing her best to make her tongue fly over the invading fingers. At some abstract level, she realized that she should have been bothered by his treatment of her, by his casually racist remarks—what do you expect from NADA anyways?—but that was where it remained, an abstract concern. Much more immediate was the knowledge that Bissonette was turned on, as witnessed by the tent of his pants, and seeing him turned on turned her on in turn, and she redoubled her efforts to suck on his thrusting fingers, drooling abundantly, keeping her eyes trained on his. When he pulled his fingers out, she put on her best come-hither smile. “You want me to be your nigger bitch, Steve? I’ll be the best damn nigger bitch you’ve ever had—after I’m done with you, those white cunts you like to fuck will—Oh!”

She had hoped to inflame him further by catering to his bigoted side, and it must have worked too well, because his face had turned red and he slapped her breast, hard, sending both globes wobbling.

“First off, it’s Mister Bissonette to you, bitch. Teach you some respect for your betters. And second off, damn right you’re gonna be my nigger bitch. You’re going to pay me back for you being an uppity lying bitch, thinks she’s so much better than everyone else!” He was shouting now, and he slapped her breasts again. “You belong on your knees choking on a real man’s cock!”

He had unzipped his pants and his cock was standing at attention, his glans a dark angry red. She looked at it, hungry, then looked up at his face. She had always been good at reading people, and here she had a pretty good idea of what would egg Bissonette on. What she wanted was for him to fuck her, as hard as he could, and she knew exactly how to get it. She put on her best innocent smile.

“Of course, Mister... Bissonette...” and she dove onto his cock, taking most of it in her mouth in one stroke, the head hitting the back of her throat. Bissonette gasped, his knees almost giving out from under him. She kept his cock in her mouth for several seconds, running her tongue back and forth underneath the hard flesh. She pulled him out and sucked him again, and again, eventually straightening her back and lining her head up and in one swift stroke taking him down her throat, pressing her breasts against his legs and pulling on his ass with her hands. She milked him with her throat, and he grunted hard.

“Fuck—you bitch—you cocksucking bitch—feels good—feels so fucking good! Oh fuck!”

When her lungs complained she pulled out, drool leaking out of her mouth and onto her chest, and she rubbed it in while caressing her breasts. She took a deep breath. She looked up at him. “Your cock feels so good in this nigger slut’s throat, Mister Bissonette. And it’s so hard...” She stroked it lightly with her hand. “You must have thought about fucking my mouth often, haven’t you? Whenever I interviewed you, or asked you questions, did you, Mister Bissonette, ever think I’d be on my knees like this, begging you to shove your cock in my nigger mouth? That I’d be wet thinking of your cock ravishing me? That you’d get to feel your cock between these big fat nigger tits?” And she raised herself up to cradle the hard shaft between her breasts, squeezing them together and moving her body up and down, rhythmically pressing on the cock that was sliding on her chest. She spat down to add some lubrication, not needing to look up to know that Bissonette was going crazy. Every boy she had ever let fuck her breasts had gone gaga during the act, always seeming to appreciate seeing their cock poke out of her cleavage. This time was no different. And she fully expected Bissonette to push her away, and possibly slap her breasts again, before he would come. Her bet was that he would fuck her, hard, most likely from behind, while insulting her. Which was fine with her, if it meant he would stick his cock inside her and made her come, over and over again. She ground her thighs together at the thought.

And, predictably, after enjoying her ministrations for a few minutes, during which Serena alternated between rubbing her breasts against Bissonette’s cock and taking it deep in her throat, he pushed her down to the ground.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” he growled, grabbing his cock. “If you think making me come with your mouth’s gonna save you ass, you’re wrong. I told you, I like my bitches to do what I tell them to do, so you gonna do just that, you little whore, you got that?”

Serena smiled. “Of course, Mister Bissonette. Anything you say, Mister Bissonette—” She pulled her skirt up over her thighs, up to her waist, and spread her long legs. Bissonette’s eyes went wide, and he stared transfixed at the little G string she had on and that was practically transparent from her juices. “So what are you going to do, Mister Bissonette? Do you want to fuck me, fuck your little nigger slut?” She was getting into it now—getting him worked up was fun, and she ate up the look of frenzied lust in his eyes. She reached down and pulled G string aside, and the air hitting her pulsating slit almost made her gasp. “Wanna shove your big white cock in my tight black cunt, Mister Bissonette? Hear me scream as you push it in? Ever had black meat, Mister Bissonette? It’s like sinking your cock into liquid fire it’s so hot in there. I’ll ruin you for any white cunt out there.” She ran a finger along her slit, sending sparks up her back and making her nipples tingle. If he does not take me soon, she thought, damn pale blue eyes and his instructions. I’m going to jump him and rape him. She slipped a finger inside her wet pussy and started finger-fucking herself in front of Bissonette. What would really push Bissonette over and make him lose his mind? She smiled. The answer was obvious. It was written all over the rhetoric of his group.

“Your cock would feel so much better than my finger, Mister Bissonette. And I’m such a bad little nigger, fingering myself like this. Wanna show me how your ancestors would subdue their nigger slaves, Mister Bissonette? Wanna teach me who’s my master, who’s my owner, Mister Bissonette? Wanna punish me with your big white cock, master—wanna punish me for being a bad nigger slut?”

Bissonette’s eyes were mesmerized by her finger noisily pushing in and out of her pussy, and by her words. He needed only one final little push, she thought, and then he’d be down there satisfying her, and his lust would be her happiness. But Bissonette acted on his own without any further prompting. His voice was low and shaking, as if he was exerting a great effort of control. “Get on your hands and knees, you bitch, and show me that fucking ass of yours.”

Serena smiled. She had him. Quickly, she flipped onto her hands and knees, her skirt still bunched around her waist, and raised her ass up, swaying it enticingly. She looked at Bissonette over her shoulder.

“You’re gonna punish me for being a bad nigger slave by fucking my ass master? But my little hole is too tight—you’ll never fit. You’ll rip me apart. Please, master. I’ll be a good nigger slave from now on, don’t fuck my ass. Please! Don’t fuck my ass!” Serena worried for a second whether she had gone too far, but Bissonette just kneeled behind her and slapped her ass cheek hard. “Shut up, bitch... you’ll take it where I say and when I say, you got that?”

The slap on her ass had sent ripples of pleasure coursing through Serena’s body, like waves on a lake. She looked at him over her shoulder again. “Of course master. My little nigger slave body is all yours to fuck as you wish—Oh! Mmm... Yes...”

Bissonette was running his cock along her dripping slit, eliciting a moan that she could not control. Her moan shifted to a gasp, and a prolonged groan when he pushed his cock into her pussy in one hard thrust. She was so aroused it went in like a hot knife through butter. Finally, she thought, and she squeezed the hard cock inside her with those muscles that had always driven her lovers crazy. Bissonette was no exception, and he grasped her thighs to help push himself deeper into her spasming snatch, stupefied by the sensation. “Fuck you bitch,” he kept repeating over and over again like a mantra as he fucked her to her heart’s content. It did not take long before she felt a climax coming, rapidly, sneakily, and on a particularly hard thrust on his part she came, her whole body spasming as if electric current was running through it, a guttural moan the only sound she was able to make, even thought as she really wanted to do was scream out for him to fuck her harder.

That was like a cue for Bissonette, who pulled his cock out of her pussy with a wet slurping sound and rubbed the head on her puckered ass hole. “This is for all the shit you’ve given me, you fucking bitch,” he groaned before pushing into her bottom. His cock was well lubed from its sojourn in her pussy, and her copious leaking juices earlier had pooled in her hole and his cock slid in fairly easily into her ass. He was smaller than many of the lovers she had had up there, and she knew enough to relax herself to ease the penetration so that it was not painful, and she was so turned on still that she probably would not have cared even if it had been. She loved it, and the slow penetration quickly brought her close to another climax. Bissonette groaned, his hands on her ass, reveling in the sensation. “Fuck,” he growled, “you’re so fuckin’ tight, bitch—Oh!...”

Serena squeezed his cock from the inside, then remembered her role. She wanted to bring him off, knowing in her bones that when he came inside her she would explode like never before. “Please, master, don’t fuck my little nigger ass too hard—you’re so big! I’ve never had anything so big up my ass before.”

His cock fully inside her, he slapped her ass again. “Shut up, you bitch—you’ll take it as hard as I want to give it to you, you whore!” And he pulled out slowly and thrust back into her, harder this time, and Serena gasped in pleasure. “Oh! Fuck! Yes, I’m your whore, your little ass whore! Fuck your little ass whore—Fuck!—Fuck!—Fuck!—Yes!”

Bissonette was ramming into her hard, just like she wanted, yearned, craved. She had a series of small orgasms that were clearly leading up to the big one, and she sneaked a hand down to her pussy and teased and pinched her clitoris to add to the overwhelming sensations. Bissonette was panting while he stabbed her ass, muttering to himself, occasionally slapping a cheek before thrusting in again. And when he started jerking and announcing that he was about to explode, Serena thrust three fingers into her pussy, fucking herself while his cock fucked her ass, and between that and Bissonette pushing into her deep and releasing a volley of semen with a loud groan, she came, her body clenching hard, immobile for several seconds before letting go and deflating like a punctured balloon. Her vision dimmed as waves of pleasure bounced up and down her body. She barely felt Bissonette collapse over her, moaning in an exhausted voice how much of a whore she was.

An hour later, Bissonette was lying down on one of the couches, drained, ready to pass out, while Serena was licking his cock clean, purring like a kitten. Her chest was covered with semen, which was also leaking abundantly from between her legs. She was waiting for the man with the pale blue eyes to return, knowing by the heat in her pussy that if she could get him to fuck her she would feel even better than Bissonette had made her feel. She wondered idly what she could do to make him take her, as she tried to coax another offering from the shriveling cock in her hand.

Later still, as she left the building, Serena Banks adjusted her skirt and made sure she had her bag. It was later than she thought it would be, and figured she must have zoned out after the press conference, the way she often did when she was sketching out the skeleton of an upcoming article. For now she knew exactly what her article would say. She would lambast NADA for refusing to answer any questions about their connection to the prostitution ring for which its high officers had been arrested and for merely using the press conference as a platform for intolerant propaganda. Steve Bissonette would rue the day he crossed her path, she thought with a smile.