The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Darnell University President James Calhoun sat on one of the one-seaters facing the couch, taking his time and trying to calm down his frayed nerves. Cusker was gone, leaving him with the beautiful, young—so terribly, terribly young—and sexy dark-skinned reporter. Serena Banks, of the Darnell Daily. He had met her, of course, but had never interacted with her closely. His senior staff and advisors had ensured that he never did, in a valiant hope that it might protect him from saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Somehow, they knew his weaknesses. And upon seeing her up close, he had to acknowledge their wisdom.

He remained guarded, but allowed his eyes to travel down the luscious girl’s body, noting her beautiful face with her dark red lips, her tight blouse hinting at a more than generous chest, her skirt that had ridden up slightly to expose two long delectable legs crossed at the knee, on which she rested a yellow notepad, and her spike heels, one of them coming dangerously close to slipping off and dangling from the tip of a perfect foot, as she lightly bounced her leg.

When he finally brought his eyes back up to her face, he saw her smile, a smile that suggested she knew exactly what he had been thinking and did not mind at all. Even after Cusker’s assurances, Calhoun was still unsure how this might go.

“Shall we start, Miss Banks?”

“Please, Mister President. Call me Serena.”

“Very well—Serena.”

“Let us start at the beginning, then. And I’m of course hoping that you will answer my questions truthfully. It will make for a much more... satisfying... interview.”

“I shall do my best, Miss... I mean, Serena. Ask your questions.”

“I know you like women. You have quite a reputation on campus, as you are undoubtedly aware. I want to explore that aspect of your personality in more depth. Would you say you prefer your women young and innocent, or older and more mature?”

Calhoun raised an eyebrow. “We need to make something very clear, Serena. If I am going to answer your questions, I do not expect those answers to ever leave this room, understood?”

Serena’s smile hinted at pleasures untold. “Mister President, this interview is purely for personal use on my part.” She winked. “Please play along.”

Calhoun took a deep breath. Did he trust Cusker? No. But then again, he had already dipped his foot into the Delta Iota Kappa pool, and he was already wet. Nothing that happened today would make things any worse.

“I prefer younger women, Serena, but I would not go so far as saying I like them innocent. Naughtiness is a pleasurable spice.”

“I completely agree, Mister President. Please describe your ideal young woman.”

“Let me see. Early twenties? I generally like them tall and on the slim side, but with nice curves. I don’t mind when they’re short, as long as they are well proportioned. But also smart, funny, able to carry a conversation. A woman with her own opinions.”

Serena smiled. “No need to be politically correct, Mister President. You will not offend me if you are brutally honest. Let me be clear: does your ideal woman have long slim legs or strong thick thighs? Does your ideal woman have nice big tits, or do you favor a perkier handful? Does you ideal woman has wide hips and a generous backside, or do you prefer tight little asses? White, black, Asian? Blonde, brunette, redhead?”

Calhoun shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. “You are very direct, aren’t you.” He looked at the girl for a long moment, weighing his options. She appeared so inoffensive, so beautiful, staring back at him with her large brown eyes, her lips that looked so very wet. He stole a glance at her foot, noting that her high heel still dangled from her toes. He sighed softly. “Very well. If you really want to know, then I prefer my women on the tall side, slim, with long legs, but also generous curves—I like large breasts that overflow my hands, breasts that you can hang on to for dear life. I prefer my women dark skinned and dark haired, but even if white and blonde I’d never throw a hot woman out of my bed. Why are you grinning?”

“Because I think you’re flirting with me, Mister President. You described me almost to a tee. Including my friends here.” She playfully shook her torso, before looking straight at him and winking. “You also described your administrative assistant pretty closely, if I remember correctly. Cassandra, isn’t it? I was observing her earlier, while I was waiting. She is a beautiful young woman, that’s for sure. I liked her dress—proper, but tight enough to intimate the treasures she hides underneath. I’m sure students love to come here just to get a peek at her. I wonder if she flirts with them at all, if she gets wet knowing that they get hard just from looking at her and imagining what it would feel like to push her against her desk and flip her dress over her back and take her just like that, from behind, her big tits squashed against the wood. Because I’m pretty sure she has exactly the sort of big fat tits you like. Does she, Mister President?”

Calhoun swallowed. His shaft had stiffened at Serena’s words. It had been way too easy to picture what she had described—he had taken Cassie in just such a fashion many a time in his own office. At least, when he wasn’t... He swallowed again. Did Serena know that he was having an affair with Cassie? How had she found out? Had Cassie talked to her?

“She does seem to have a very nice chest,” he replied, careful.

“You are being coy with me, Mister President. I find that very endearing.” She put the tip of her pen in her mouth, toying with it with her tongue. “Now, I happen to believe you know exactly what Cassandra’s big fat tits look like. My next question is therefore, how do my tits compare?”

Balancing her pad on her knee, Serena slowly unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a lacy bra underneath barely covering her hardening nipples. With a shrug of her shoulders, the blouse slid down. She grabbed her breasts, squeezing them slightly, before gingerly reaching for the clasp nestled between them. She unhooked her bra and let it join the blouse next to her on the couch. She then grabbed her breasts again, hefting them one after the other, squeezing them, tweaking the nipples with long red fingernails. “So?” asked Serena, looking up at him, her voice lilting innocently.

Calhoun stared unabashedly to the exposed flesh before him. Serena’s breasts were sensational, he thought—nice and round and with big aureolas just the way he liked them. They did remind him very much of Cassie’s, except that the administrative assistant had short but wider nipples, while Serena’s were long and seemed exceedingly easy to arouse. The desire to kneel before her and suckle on the offered mammaries grasped him by the throat and threatened to choke him. He swallowed before responding. He could feel how flushed his face was.

“They are... You are really beautiful, Serena.” He had some difficulty pulling his gaze off her chest to look at her in the eyes.

“Thank you. But that’s not what I asked. Are my tits as nice as Cassandra’s? I mean, mine are large but firm, and the skin is very soft, as you can imagine. And I love it when a man plays with them—I’ve been known to come just by having my nipples nibbled on, did you know that? Are Cassandra’s big and firm too, and so very sensitive? Does she let you suck on them to your heart’s content? Does she let you slide your big cock between them, spurting all over them?”

“All I know,” replied Calhoun, trying to regain a measure of control, “is that I would not mind at all sucking on your breasts.”

Serena smiled, kneading her breasts slightly. “Oh, I bet you said that to all the pretty girls that jiggle their big tits in front of your face, Mister President. Very well, let us continue. So clearly, you enjoy women’s breasts. But would you say you are a tit man or an ass man, Mister President? What about legs?”

“I would say that I am an equal opportunity ogler, to be honest.”

“Really? In my experience, men do really prefer one or the other. Let’s experiment.” She put down her pad, and slowly stood up, unfolding slowly like a model, at this point in the interview wearing only her tight skirt, which had crept up her thighs while she was sitting.

Calhoun ran his eyes down from her face to her waist—admiring the toned stomach along the way, and how her lower torso curved perfectly into her waist—and then down her long legs to her pretty feet perched in her heels.

Serena let him look at his leisure, waiting for his eyes to trail back up her legs to slowly pull up her skirt further, uncovering her thighs completely, just as she put a foot forward in a model’s pose.

Calhoun’s eyes tracked the creeping hemline, waiting for the moment when a peek of panties would show, and was rewarded by a glimpse of pure white between the dark thighs of the reporter. The skirt kept rising, unveiling a white triangle of material hiding what must have been an aroused pussy judging by the clearly visible darkening stain. That Serena was turned on by the events made Calhoun’s heart beat even faster.

When her skirt was up around her waist like a large belt, Serena spoke up again. “So do you like my legs, Mister President?”

“They are perfect.”

“Well thank you. And my ass?”

Keeping one eye on Calhoun, Serena turned around to reveal that she was in fact wearing a thong, the thin strip of material nestled snugly between her cheeks doing nothing to mar what Calhoun recognized was a delightful rear looking as soft as her breasts had a moment earlier.

“Again, simply perfect. You should be a model, Miss Banks.”

“I told you, Mister President, please call me Serena. And thank you. What makes you think I’m not already modeling?”

The thought of Serena exposing her charms to a photographer made his manhood twitch. He had often begged Cassie to pose for some naughty pictures, something she had always refused to do.

As if she was reading his mind, Serena helpfully chimed in, her back still turned to him, her legs spread a shoulder’s width apart. “Maybe I’ll let you take some pictures of me, Mister President. Give you some inspiration for those long lonely nights.”

She turned back around, and took two steps forward. Calhoun was looking down, saw her put one foot directly in front of the other, like a cat stalking, still perched on those high heels of hers.

“I need to check the results of the experiment. Please excuse me.” She leaned down towards him, and pressed her hand lightly over his crotch, gauging his hardness. Her touch felt good.

“I see. And if I do this?” She stood astride his lap, put her arms on his shoulders, and bent down. The motion swung her breasts towards his head, and she pressed them to his face, smothering him in warm tender flesh. She shook her chest slightly, sending her breasts against his cheeks and his mouth, and he reached up with a hand to palm a bountiful mound.

When Serena straightened up, she smiled at him before leaning down once more, and pressing her hand against his crotch. She grinned. “I think the experiment was rather conclusive.” As if she was well aware of what he was feeling, she rubbed her hand slowly up and down against his shaft through his pant.

With her skirt still rucked up around her waist, and her upper body nude, Serena went back to her spot on the couch, and crossed her legs again. Almost automatically she let one of her heels dangle from her foot while she picked up her pad. Calhoun’s eyes were drawn to it, watching it swing back and forth, held only by the tip of Serena’s toes.

“Let’s continue then, shall we? How about psychology? How do you like your women, Mister President?”

He looked back at her, startled out of his reverie. “Pardon?”

“Do you like them aggressive? Passive? Do you like them to take charge, or do you like them to submit to your desires? Do you prefer them to straddle you and be all ‘I’m gonna fuck your cock so raw that it’s gonna bleed before I milk all your cum with my cunt, you fuckin’ stud,’ or do you prefer them lying back while they tell you softly to ‘please be gentle with me when you ravish me, but if you want to do me hard then I can’t really stop you?’ as they spread their legs demurely?” She acted out the two styles with brio while she spoke.

“I... I like a woman who is secure in her sexuality, and is not afraid to let me know what she likes.”

Serena nodded. “Do you prefer your women to be brutally direct and go for the kill, or do you prefer them to tease and draw out the arousal as long as possible?”

Calhoun could not help picturing Serena in either scenario. “I guess both have their advantages... I’d be hard pressed to choose.” His eyes returned to her dangling shoe.

“We may just have to run a few more experiments later to find out what your real preferences are,” said Serena, her voice suggestive. “Let’s move on. What about sex acts?”

“What about them?”

“Do you like to fuck, Mister President?” She put the tiniest bit of emphasis on the word fuck, making sure to convey with the word a wide range of images of herself satisfying a male in various positions.

“I... I have to say I do, yes.”

“And what are you favorite sex acts? Oral sex? Vaginal sex? Anal sex?”

“I guess... I’m not sure how to answer that question. I mean, I do enjoy a wide variety of... sex acts, as you call them, and I would be hard pressed to spotlight a favorite...”

Serena looked at him with a naughty smile on her face. “As a capable interviewer, it is my duty to try to elicit a precise answer from you.” She put her pad down, and brought her two legs together before her. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? Oral sex.”

The way she said it forced him to look at her mouth, at her lips, which seemed wetter now than they had been a few minutes earlier. Calhoun, who thought of himself as able to maintain control through anything, was feeling that control slip away slowly.

“Tell me, Mister President, how do you feel about blow jobs? Do you like it when a woman takes your...” she looked down at his crotch, “tool in her mouth? Wraps her lips around it and sucks it in? Take me, for example. In an ideal world, how would you want me to do it? Slowly, lovingly, diving in and out onto your cock while looking at you straight in the eyes with adoration in mine?” She gave him such a look now, her mouth open just enough to suggest the act she was describing.

She stood up from the couch, unfolding her beautiful body once more, allowing his eyes to roam over her curves. She still had her skirt bunched around her waist, her white thong the only thing really covering any part of her body. She took a step towards him, slowly. “Or would you like me to be more aggressive, to gobble up your cock and bob my head up and down fast and hard, sucking as much as I can, slobbering all over you as I try to cram you as far into my mouth as I can?”

She stopped right in front of him, and without breaking eye contact she sank to her knees between his legs. Her hands immediately went to his belt. “Or perhaps you prefer being the one in charge? Many men love that. Is that how you like your blow jobs, Mister President? Would you like me to just open my mouth so that you can fuck it—fuck it hard, like a sloppy cunt, shoving your cock deep down my throat, choking me, while I’m pinned down, helpless?”

Calhoun grunted, and felt Serena’s hand close on his erect shaft. She smiled broadly as she pulled back the foreskin, revealing his engorged glans.

“I... How about you decide what you would like to do,” he said, his breath short. Her fingers were moving slowly, softly, sending delicious sensations up his groin.

“I can do that. Of course, this brings us back to the previous question—do you prefer a direct approach, or do you like to be teased?”

Still smiling, she blew on the head of his manhood, which jerked in response. Calhoun leaned back in his seat, enjoying the sensation. She blew again, and he reacted even more strongly. “I guess there’s my answer,” she whispered.

She pursed her lips, and approached them from the throbbing tip in her hand. She made as if to kiss it, only to stop and exhale her warm breath on it. Calhoun groaned. She then lightly ran the tip of her tongue over the sensitive skin, making him shiver.

She licked a long time, slowly, lovingly, her eyes trained on his, giving the impression that she was based her actions on his reactions, which probably was not far from the truth. When Calhoun thought he could not take any more, she seemed to sense it and let his shaft slide between her lips, and took it almost to the hilt into her mouth, her cheeks sinking in as she sucked hard. Calhoun gasped, and clenched the arms of his seat.

She kept him in her mouth for a long time, her eyes fastened on his, her tongue dancing on his shaft as she sucked it, before she let him slowly slip out. She went back to teasing the tip again, her fingers slowly stroking the now-slicked shaft. When she felt him needing to thrust in again, she slipped him inside once more. She kept that rhythm for several minutes—not fast enough to make him come, but not slow enough for him to retreat from the edge of arousal.

When Calhoun was nearly out of his mind with the desire to come, when he was almost to the point where he was ready to beg her to do him hard, she straightened up, leaving only two fingers gently stroking his vibrating manhood.

“Normally, at this point, I would get on your lap and let you slide that bad boy all the way up my dripping cunt—” Calhoun grunted at the thought, “and then I’d slide my ass back and forth while you’re deep inside me as you sucked on my big tits, but...”

“But?” Calhoun was shaking.

“But I have a better idea. I think I know what you like, Mister President. However hard you seem to want to hide it.”

She stood up, making sure her breasts brushed his knees on the way up, and turned around to walk back to the couch. Calhoun’s eyes were fastened to her ass as she made her way back to her seat.

She sat down, and pulled off her thong by lifting her legs together. She leaned back, spreading her legs wide, offering him an unfettered view of her pussy, which he could see was wet with arousal. She was shaved bare, one of the many things he secretly enjoyed.

Her eyes fixed on him—her gaze seemed to be peering deep into his soul, he realized almost with a start—she ran her thong through her slit, wiping off the excess juices. Without missing a beat she tossed him the underwear, which he caught in mid-air. She smiled when he brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. The material was soaked; the smell was musky, the smell of a woman in heat. His manhood jerked again. Serena saw it, grinned, then brought her left hand down between her legs and ran a finger over her pussy lips. It came away wet. She beckoned him with it. “Come here, Mister President.”

Calhoun did not even bother trying to resist the call. This is what you signed up for, wasn’t it, James? Now just go get it. He stood up and stepped out of the pants that had pooled at his ankles, then took the three steps to the couch, his manhood bobbing before him with every movement. He was debating whether to ask her to move so that he could lie on top of her or move forward so that he could sink into her by bending down, when she stopped him.

“Hold it. Down on your knees. I want to feel your tongue up my cunt. You like eating pussy, Mister President?”

Calhoun stopped for a moment, looked at the offering before him, and slowly sank to his knees. He heard Serena coo and spread her legs further. He put his hands on her thighs, appreciating the softness and firmness of her skin. He could smell her from where he was, and the smell was getting to him. He leaned forward, slowly. Serena’s hands were in his hair, caressing—he wanted to tell her to not disturb the hair, but she was pulling him in close, and soon his hair was the last thing on his mind.

“Get your lips down my... oh yes, that’s it, right there! Ooooh!”

He inhaled her fragrance deeply before his lips made contact with her engorged labia, and he felt her shiver underneath him, and clutch his head tight. When he experimentally ran his tongue through her slit, he found her gushing, and the musky taste made his tongue tingle.

He licked with long swipes of his tongue along her labia and made sure to swipe her clitoris with every stroke, something Serena seemed to enjoy if her moans and the clenching of her hands on his scalp were indications to go by. When he pushed his tongue into her pussy as far as it would go, she groaned loudly and hooked her legs over his shoulder, the spike heels of her shoes digging into his back and sending a jolt down to his shaft. He fucked her with his tongue as she humped him.

“Oh god! Just like that! Deeper!” She ground her crotch into his face hard, crushing his nose. “Do I taste as good as your Cassandra does?” she asked. “I bet that pretty bitch has the sweetest tasting pussy ever...” Another loud moan interrupted her, as Calhoun curled his tongue deep inside her and seemed to hit a spot that was particularly pleasurable. He felt her tunnel clench around him.

Serena humped him long and hard, and when he pulled out for a short breather, he could feel his face drenched with her juices. “I’m so fuckin’ close,” she groaned, tilting her pelvis upwards as much as possible. “I want to come with your tongue in my ass!”

That did not sound like a request to Calhoun, but closer to an order. It sent another spike of arousal down his body, and just as Serena moved so that his mouth slid down nearer her anus, he straightened out his tongue and thrust it through the tight ring of her rear hole. Serena grunted loudly when he breached her sphincter, and moaned when his tongue sneaked inside. “Oh yes! Oh that feels amazing! Oh! That’s it! Tongue my ass! Tongue my ass you bastard!”

Calhoun worried in some remote part of his brain about Cassie hearing Serena who was not being particularly careful, but he was soon distracted from such thoughts by the fact that Serena was now grinding her groin hard against his face, humping his tongue and rubbing her slit and her clitoris against his nose. He was having a hard time breathing, and the smell of her arousal was nearly overpowering—but he kept his tongue stiff and let Serena pleasure herself with it. She was moaning and tensing, her nails digging into his scalp.

“Gonna come! Gonna come!” she kept moaning like a mantra. “Gonna come with your tongue up my ass! Gonna come all over your face! Harder! Harder, dammit! Harder! That’s it! Like that! Just... like... that!”

She came, hard, her whole body jackknifing like she was doing crunches, pulling his head tight against her. Her sphincter kept clenching open and closed around his tongue, and he could feel her pussy pulsate in time through his nose, releasing a copious amount of fluid.

While he was still recovering, catching his breath, his head still spinning from the efforts and the fragrance of her effusions, Serena straightened up and pressed against him, almost lifting him up so she could kiss him, hard, her chest pressing against his shirt, her hands pulling him close. She did not so much kiss him as lap up her juices from his lips and his tongue and the inside of his mouth.

She let him go and fell back onto the couch, heaving a deep sigh. “That was amazing,” she said.

“You did seem to enjoy it,” said Calhoun, pleased with himself.

“That I did.” Her eyes were closed. She opened them slightly. “And I think it’s high time you enjoyed something too.”

He made to stand up again, but a spike heel driven into his shoulder stopped him. “Don’t move,” she said, her voice low with a vague mirth underlying it. “I think I know what you really want.”

Calhoun frowned, but was distracted by the heel of her shoe scratching him down the side of his chest and digging into his stomach. He ran his eyes up her long leg, bent at the knee, up to her breasts rising and falling with each inhalation, and finally up to her eyes, that were looking at him knowingly. She knows, he thought. Dear God! She knows! Before he could react further, the tip of her other shoe gently caressed his balls, and an uncontrollable shiver ran up his spine. The pressure on his side, where Serena had been pressing her other heel, alleviated, and he felt then heard her shoe drop to the ground after hitting his thigh.

Calhoun held his breath, his eyes fixed on Serena’s, unable to move. This is how a deer feels when a car’s careening towards him all headlights blazing. He figured a deer would not sport an erection like he was, though. He did not move. He did not dare move. He did not want to.

Serena lifted her foot to his face, and he stared at it, his eyes wide. It was just perfect, a perfect foot, and given how the rest of her body had looked, he should not have been surprised. Delicate, with a strong arch, and beautifully satiny skin, dark on the top, pale and pink underneath. Her toenails were painted a deep red, the same color as her lipstick, he noted without a conscious effort. He longed to kiss that foot, the craving making him salivate. Her other foot, still clad in her shoe, was gently playing with his balls. Calhoun did not know where to pay attention, and his internal nervous system was playing ping-pong between the two loci of activity on his body.

“Go ahead,” Serena cooed, never losing her air of naughtiness, “suck on them.” She encouraged him with a gentle prod of her shoe on the underside of his manhood. She wiggled her toes before his mouth, waiting.

Calhoun’s mind went blank. On full automatic, he let her toes slip into his mouth, and he felt his shaft twitch and his testicles tighten when he closed his lips on Serena’s toes. She sighed and leaned further back, supporting her leg with an arm.

Before too long, Calhoun was sucking on Serena’s toes like tomorrow was not worth living for. His hands were caressing her foot up to her calf, kneading and squeezing and milking.

“There you go,” she cooed, “suck them all, like a good boy. Suck on my toes. Does you dear Cassandra lets you suck her toes and worship her feet, Mister President? I bet she has the cutest little feet, all delicate and sensitive and lady-like—the kind of feet that are just a delight to lick and fondle, aren’t they?”

Calhoun groaned, never letting up his sucking. Serena’s words were searing into his brain like the brand of a rancher. Cassie indeed had beautiful feet—he had admired them often enough as he had sex with her, once or twice had even kissed them lightly in the middle of the act while she was on her back with her legs in the air and he was kneeling between them penetrating her. But he had never worshipped them like he was doing now—when he had subtly hinted at such an activity a while back, under the guise of playfully questioning the kinky sex they had had in the past and were hoping to experience in the future, her reaction had convinced him that she would not be open to such a possibility. In her words, no self-respecting man would lower himself to slobbering over a woman’s dirty feet to get off. He had never brought it up again.

Serena seemed once again to read right into his mind. She pushed her foot inside his mouth, forcing him to accept a lot more in. His tongue danced on her toes. His saliva was dripping down her sole. “I don’t think Cassandra’s the style to let you suck her toes, though,” she said, eyeing him carefully. “No, I think she’d think you’re a disgusting little boy for wanting to do that to her—is that it? She’d look at you thinking you’re a little pervert that gets off on women’s feet, wouldn’t she? And she wouldn’t be too far from the truth, would she?” She grinned.

And then Calhoun felt it—while he was busy drooling all over Serena’s toes, he felt her other foot press against his tumescent shaft. She had shed her other shoe, and was rubbing his manhood up and down with the sole of her foot. His primal brain went into overdrive, and not only did he suck harder, he started to hump her foot, seeking more friction. Serena giggled. “Oh yes, our dirty little boy here likes to feel my little footsie on his hard dickie, doesn’t he? Are you going to come on my foot, you dirty little boy?” She rubbed harder, and Calhoun almost choked as he was unable to concentrate on swallowing his excess saliva while Serena’s foot wiggled in his mouth.

“I think I can help you come, you filthy boy. Here,” she pulled her foot out of his mouth and—keeping her other foot firmly pressed against his groin—straightened up on the couch and brought her breasts to his face. “Suck on my big titties now—go on, suck hard and make them all wet.”

Unable to resist anything anymore, overwhelmed, he did as she asked, taking one of her hard nipples between his lips and drooling all over it as he sucked hard. Serena moaned, squashed his head against her breast, and resumed the rubbing of his shaft with her foot. Soon her other foot joined in as well, and Calhoun was astonished to find himself sucking on the school hottest reporter’s breast while she gave him a world-class foot job that felt better than anything he had ever experienced. At that moment, he would have given up his career without a thought—his presidency, his shot at a presidency at a more prestigious college, his political ambition even—if he could have been promised that what he was feeling could go on forever.

Serena pressed her feet hard against the sides of his pulsating shaft, and moved them up and down, jacking him off with as much skill as her hands would. When a moan escaped him, muffled by the flesh of her breast, she caressed his head encouragingly.

“Come on, my filthy dirty little perverted boy—spew your load all over my pretty feet. Do your dirty business all over these feet rubbing you off while you suck on my big fat tits. Come on! Let it come! Let it come! That’s it! Oh yes, just like that! Come on! Ah! Yes!”

Calhoun clenched up like a white hot spike had been thrust up his rear end, and shouted an indistinct scream into Serena’s breast as he felt his manhood erupt between her pistoning feet. Each spurt of semen felt like it was draining him to the core and wracked his body with spasms. Serena caressed his hair, encouraging him, soothing him, as if he were about to collapse in tears.

She let him go, finally, and leaned back down on the couch. Calhoun feared for a second that he would collapse on the floor of his office. He was shot, drained, voided. He had just experienced the most powerful orgasm of his life. But Serena was not done with him. She lifted her feet up to his face again.

“Lick my feet clean now—you soiled them with your filthy spent. Go on, you dirty boy. Lick’em up.”

Calhoun’s manhood jerked back to life when he heard those words. This girl’s incredible was his last thought before he sucked the toes of her left foot into his mouth, tasting the acrid flavor of his own semen. Serena was smiling sweetly, while absent-mindedly caressing her labia with her long manicured nails.

“Next time, maybe we’ll get lovely Cassandra to join us. She’s a pretty bitch that one—I’d love to get between her legs and eat her out. I bet she juices up like the little cunt she appears to be. You’ll have the honor of tonguing my ass while I munch her out, you filthy boy. And then she and I will let you suck our toes while we fuck in front of you.”

Calhoun merely groaned, his tongue lapping up every drop of semen he had spilled on Serena’s skin, his manhood already back to full strength as he imagined himself sucking down on Cassie’s beautiful toes while she was getting reamed by an all-powerful Serena hammering into her with a large strap-on dildo.

As soon as that Cusker kid sent the message that his technician was back, Cassie would be his. That Cusker kid had to come through for him. He just had to. Calhoun would make sure of it.