On Call Corporate Slut

By HeyAll

Published on Jun 24, 2024

Bisexual

Controls

"On Call Corporate Slut" by HeyAll

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xxx

I was the corporation's main on-call slut for many years. I was well paid, flown to different events, done many gangbangs, and fucked every big boss, their wives, girlfriends, and secretaries. Whatever fetish they wanted. The bigger the corporation, the more stress the leadership is under. Ravishing the company's on-call slut is often what's needed.

You might wonder, why not hire escorts for this sort of thing? It's not the same. Owning an accomplished slut within the corporation is worth more than beautiful escorts. It's the breaking down of a valued employee. It's turning someone into a sub. Powerful people want to flex their power.

When people look at me these days, they don't think of sex. I'm currently 47 years old. I'm still attractive, but I don't have the same appetite that I used to, I don't give off certain vibes. They still call whenever I'm needed. Or if I need them.

I'm the Director of Sales at one of the biggest tech companies in the world. This means that I craft sales strategies for new products, motivate teams, anything to hit revenue targets. In a few years I could become VP of this department where I'll be responsible for the overall success of sales. Not because of sexual favors. I've earned the position through my own merits.

There are documents I need to review -- forecasts, performance evaluations -- but telling my story has been on my mind. On my laptop there's a Doc open, an outline of my sexual memoir. How I came to be. I'm planning on turning this into a novel and hopefully I can publish it anonymously. Over the years I've made friends with publishing agents. They'll hear from me soon, of course they'll be mystified by my offer.

It's a form of exhibitionism to spread my story. It's arousing for people to know about my erotic adventures. But it's also an educational document. If nothing else, my story will serve as an eye-opening experience for the general public. The inner-workings of corporate America are shocking to the core. Few know this.

xxx

Looking back, the whole thing started when I was a 28 year old sales associate. The job was entry level, but it's a multi-billion dollar corporation so my resume was already substantial. Part of the job meant having routine meetings with a performance coach. Dr. Meyers. A psychologist who found ways of squeezing every last drop of productivity out of people. All with a smile on her face, like she's doing you a favor.

It was my third time meeting her in the minimalist office space with zen-like atmosphere.

Dr. Meyers asked questions like:

"Have you identified areas where you feel you could improve in your current role?"

"How have you been handling your current workload?"

"Have you experienced any frustrations lately?"

Whatever I'd answer, she responded with earnest advice about the psychology of success, much of her advice I still use today. I left that meeting a better employee with new tips on what my bosses were looking for. Ways that I could improve when dealing with clients, that sort of thing.

But it was her eyes that made me -- not uncomfortable -- but suspicious. Between her questions and my answers, her eyes would go up and down, looking me over. It was overt, as if we were in a bar and she was trying to hook up.

Not to sound full of myself, but that age range was the fittest of my life. Weight lifting was a new passion and something I did often. My muscles were tight and I looked great in tank tops on hot days. My legs were especially stellar. Outside of work, it was normal to get eyed when going for outdoor runs.

At the time I dismissed those accusatory thoughts of the psychologist putting moves on me. Women like her don't make overt sexual advances in the workplace. It must have been in my head. I must have imagined things. How wrong I was.

Days later I got a personal phone call from the CEO himself. The newsmaker. The visionary. The man with the golden aura. Blanchard wanted to take me out so he could get to know his `new employee.' The statement was a little baffling. I didn't bother correcting him that I'd been there for over a year at that point, so I was hardly a new employee. Nonetheless it was a thrilling offer.

Sunday morning he drove to my apartment in a red sports car, then we headed to an exclusive country club about 30 minutes away. The place was luxury beyond anything I'd seen before. We were treated like royalty. Breakfast was amazing. I'd never eaten anywhere so fancy and I noticed executives and top managers at other tables with their spouses. Blanchard explained that business leaders from around the world like to come here to unwind.

Afterward he held my hand and led me to the outdoor pool area, where I saw naked, older men and women, lounging around in their private sanctuary. In hindsight, the shock will always be amusing, but at the time it was a disconcerting experience. The casualness of their mature bodies challenged everything I knew about the upper echelon of the corporate world.

I was the youngest of the group and my inexperience showed. I was visibly tense, meanwhile they were so experienced that nudity was nothing to them, sipping freshly squeezed juice, breasts and cocks dangling free, while having casual conversations.

"Well?" he asked.

He nudged me with his eyes, encouraging me to join. We were the only ones still dressed, aside from staff, and he started unbuttoning his shirt. At that exact moment, I realized why the performance coach had been eyeing me days earlier. She gauged my figure and assessed whether I'd be a good fit. She must have given the green light to Blanchard that I'd be valuable in their social group.

I spent the rest of the day being introduced to corporate bigshots in my birthday suit. Suddenly managers and bosses who ignored me at work were now happy to offer a handshake as Blanchard led me around in the nude. Other business leaders were envious of me. The men were cordial. It was the wives with wandering eyes, going up and down, looking at my feet, all the way up to my nipples.

Did I mention how big my nipples are? They're huge, not freakish, but attention grabbing. They're always a topic of conversation whenever I'd undress for a romantic partner.

Sometimes we stood and had random conversations, schmoozing with different members of the social club, sometimes we'd sit with our feet in the pool while talking. My nipples were erect most of the time, not from arousal, but the exposure. Up until that moment, I only sunbathed in private, so the public experience was jarring.

Was I terrified being nude? Of course. But there's a certain kind of pressure that's hard to escape. Being asked to do something by your charismatic CEO is one of them. I could have refused, he wasn't forcing me to do anything, but being cozy with top rank was alluring.

In the following days, whenever I walked around the office building and saw someone in management, their eyes would go up and down, followed by a gratuitous smile. They were either at the nudist club, or they must have heard about my nipples. Word had spread apparently.

One guy even whispered to me in the lobby, "I remember when you were naked."

You can imagine how I felt. People could have heard it. Thankfully no one did. Even more horrifying, it was like hitting a glass ceiling in my career, that no matter how hard I worked, I'd always be remembered for having big nipples. I considered applying to other jobs. The pay would be smaller, the company less prestigious, but I'd have my dignity intact and not worry about men leering at me.

That was, until I got a random text message.

Unknown: Hi, this is Beverly, we met the other weekend by the pool. Not sure if you remember me. I asked you fitness advice. Anyway, husband gave me your number. Im back in town. Going to visit the HQ soon. Maybe we can get a workout together?? Let me know

I remembered Beverly, the 40-something year old trophy wife. She's a redhead with large breasts and a curvaceous figure. I remembered her, not because she's gorgeous with the brightest pink nipples I've ever seen, but because her husband was the VP of my department at the time.

Social climbing was never my thing, but cozying up to the boss's wife felt like a step in the right direction. And upward mobility was exactly my new goal. If I got naked for a bunch of executives by the pool, then I should at least get something out of it. They owed me that much.

We texted back and forth, arranging a time, and a few days later at the corporate gym, we had a nice workout. I demonstrated a few routines with light weights, and in between we gossiped about various things going on. Nothing was business, everything was friendly banter and I'd made a new friend.

The shower area was empty and we kept the conversation going from adjacent stalls. After that, when I got dressed in the locker room, Beverly approached me completely naked with a towel wrapped around her hair.

She stood in front of me, putting a foot on the bench I sat on. Her hairy vagina was near my face. I could see her pink labia spread in that position beneath the hairs. I looked in her eyes, she acted like I was being rude, or that I was uncultured.

"You're clearly new," she said.

That was my first time eating pussy. She held the back of my head while giving instructions on what to do. She spoke like I was customer service, rather than a new friend or an employee here. Not demanding, but more like certain things were expected of me. She liked my tongue going in and out, she wanted me to lick the folds, attention to her clitoris.

Because that was our first time, she didn't cum in my mouth, instead she pulled away and rubbed herself in fast circles. Her head tilted back. I watched her. Her nipples were rock hard. She moaned. She squirted onto the locker room floor, then wiped her wet hand on the towel.

After that she returned to her normal self. The demanding demeanor was gone, the pleasant smile had returned. It struck me as bizarre how we could share a wild erotic experience together, then she could flip back to being the housewife.

Two days later I got a text message summoning me to the CEO's office, only to find that the boss hadn't summoned me. The secretary did. Monique is her name, late 20's at the time, a black woman with a vibrant personality. I could see why the boss always had her around. I'd never actually had a conversation with her, just passing smiles here and there.

"Are you the newbie on call?" she said.

Her eyebrow rose like she was worried about my reaction. Her voice unsure. I wasn't upset. More than anything, I was miffed about being called a newbie' by someone my age. That was also the first time I heard the phrase on call' in that setting.

"I've been working here for a while, so, not exactly new. Is Blanchard here?"

Monique straightened her skirt. "He's busy. I heard that you provide on-call service."

"What do you mean? I'm in the sales department."

She hesitated for a moment, batted her eyelashes, thinking to herself, then she rolled her chair back. When she lifted her skirt, I saw that she was pantyless. Her pussy was shaved and wet between the labia. Her eyes were unsure of this, like she was questioning whether she made the right decision or not, or if I was even the right person.

That was my second time eating pussy. It was also my second interaction in the workplace. Yes she was gorgeous, but she was also the boss's secretary. How was I going to refuse? In an odd way, I was moving forward and backward at the same time. I was getting closer to the CEO's inner-circle, but at the same time, I was on my knees.

After her orgasm, Monique covered herself but she still enjoyed the power she had over me. People bossed her around all day, now she had a chance to turn the table on someone -- and that someone was me. Compliant, career driven, and orally talented.

Monique opened a drawer and pulled out a small silver chain with clamps attached to each side. She pinched the clamps open and shut. They were harmless but intimidating claws.

"Is it true what they say?" she asked.

"About?"

"Your nipples. I've heard they're enormous."

"They're not freakish, but they're bigger than normal."

"Can I see them?"

"Sure, might as well."

It was lunch hour and the hall to the CEO's office was quiet, so I opened my top and revealed my nipples to Monique, who enjoyed what she was seeing. She was impressed, like she'd never seen that size before. I approached her and let her place the clamps on my nipples. I didn't know what to expect, it felt like gentle bites with the edges covered with rubber.

Monique gave me those nipple clamps and asked if I'd wear them around my apartment and take pictures. She liked the idea of my nipples being tweaked and elongated at different hours of the day. And you know what? I did it. At a certain point it became more than just proximity to the boss. It was also about the depths I was willing to explore. I wasn't just learning about sex, I was also learning about myself in the process, which I know sounds cliche, but it's the truth.

I went about my job as usual. Things were headed in a positive direction, I was given more work to do. As a sales associate, I got to meet interesting people on a routine basis, the hustle and bustle made me feel alive. It made me feel important, which was rewarding on its own.

Back then I wouldn't have called myself a submissive, but in hindsight, that's what felt natural. An awakening of my sexuality, trying different things, and what I liked was something they needed. I masturbated more during that period than at any time before that. After everything I've mentioned, could you blame me?

Two weeks later, Dr. Meyers requested that I come to her office. I knew the topic was going to be about sex. I was prepared to tell her the truth because it seemed obvious that she arranged the whole thing and I wanted someone to confide in. Someone I could express these difficult feelings to, who could help process everything.

When I entered her office, Bryce Mitchell was sitting on the couch, which was baffling because confidentiality was the whole point of those sessions. Both of them were relaxed. Dr. Meyers asked me to sit beside him. I did. The man was one of the heads of research and development, by the way. He sat with his arms outstretched, taking up space. There was a gleam in his eye, he wanted something out of me.

Without saying it outright, Dr. Meyers confirmed that she was behind everything. It was subtle the way she spoke. She didn't mention the country club, the wives, the secretary with the nipple clamps. All she talked about was the changes' and the evolution' of my role in the sales department. How hard that transition could be for some. Or how natural it could be for others.

"I'm curious, which category are you in?" she asked.

As you can imagine, it was awkward having to explain my sexuality with Bryce sitting next to me, and Dr. Meyers hanging on my every word. It was tough to open up, but she knew how to be delicate when prying my innermost thoughts.

Dr. Meyers continued, "Certain submissives can't escape their cravings to be objectified, used as sex objects and playthings for powerful men and women. The more accomplished these types become, the more responsibilities they have in life, the easier it becomes to return them to their base desires."

"You think I'm submissive?"

"That's not an insult. Part of my job is guiding people to their best possible roles within the company. Business comes first. Everyone has their part to play."

"You know, when I first started working here, I swore to myself that I'd give everything I have. I really wanted to climb the corporate ladder. I never thought I'd be doing... this."

"Maybe you're comfortable enough to push things further."

"I'm assuming you have something in mind."

"Will you get on your knees?"

She noticed the shocked expression on my face and explained that it's okay to be nervous. That doing things with powerful men within the company is different than wives and secretaries. `It's the natural evolution,' she explained in the most calming voice she had ever used within these walls.

Dr. Meyers got on her knees as Bryce stood, they both knew the routine as if they'd done this before. She unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out. She stroked it a few times, then sucked it, engulfing the full length in her mouth.

It's one thing to have sexual interactions with women, it's another thing seeing Dr. Meyers, who's universally respected here because she has the CEO's blessing, on her knees giving oral sex to a guy. She sucked with a natural ease. Her pinky finger was pointed outward as she stroked the guy's dick, which gave it a humorous level of class.

Every so often she'd look at me. Her eyes would gaze at mine, while her head went back and forth. They were seductive eyes, her goal was to entice me, and you know something? It worked. I wasn't an avid porn watcher at that age. The only time I'd ever seen a woman blowing a guy in real life was a roommate back in college -- and even that was by accident.

Dr. Meyers took it deeper, holding her head there to show off her deepthroat skills, moaning when it reached the back of her throat. She held the gaze. Batting her eyelashes. Oddly enough, the thing I remembered most about that moment were her eyelashes and makeup. She looked so beautiful, we were feet apart and her expression was soul piercing.

When it was my turn, Dr. Meyers stroked my hair, telling me that it's best for business and corporate morale. And in the end, that's all it was about -- business. They wanted someone like me to service needs and I was able to do just that.

Dr. Meyers gave me instructions after that blowjob on how I should be dressing to work. Be a little more revealing, but not too revealing. Nothing that would raise suspicions, but be hot enough to raise eyebrows. No undergarments below. Nothing beneath my shirt on certain days. The new version of me.

Most of my activities those next few months were still with the wives. I was given free membership to the country club, courtesy of the CEO, and we'd hang out around the pool. I heard all the gossip, all the talk about their husbands, including casual mentions of their sex lives. Wife swapping was common amongst them.

Being nude in the open took time getting used to, but I did get used to it. It made me understand why nude beaches and resorts are so popular, because they give a sense of natural freedom. I was the youngest of the group, so I always got plenty of looks -- especially my nipples.

In the locker room, the women would drop their towels after a shower. Sometimes they'd eat each other out. Mostly they wanted service from me because I'm something different compared to their normal play. It was rare that they'd return the favor, they felt it was beneath them because their husbands ran giant corporations, but they devoured my nipples.

My first exposure to a gangbang came during a Christmas party of that year. The gift of all gifts, right? People having a good time, lots of food, drinks being served. Business was great after a new product launch and the mood reflected that.

Raymond, who was the VP of Engineering, came over to me with a drink in each hand. With a grin on his face, he told me to head upstairs to the conference room, that there'd be a surprise for me. He offered me a drink but I declined because my stomach had this unsettling feeling. I knew what he hinted at, which terrified and excited me.

The exact conference room wasn't specified, but the conference rooms have glass walls with frost, so you know which rooms are in use. I ventured my way there, thinking what this surprise could be, given all that I'd already done.

A silhouette of suits moved behind the frosted glass wall. I saw a row of male dress shoes and pants on the bottom of the glass, which was clear. Business? No, they were fucking someone. That's the only thing the present could be.

I opened the door to the sound of moaning. A row of men were lined for Chana Greenberg who was sitting on the end of the conference table. Her legs were open, heels in the air, pantyless, and her top was open to reveal small breasts. Men held her legs open and her body shook with each thrust. The first gangbang I had ever witnessed, around 8 men handling the task of fucking her.

Chana Greenberg wasn't some wife or secretary. She was the COO and it was understood that she ran the day-to-day operations of the corporation. Women across the business world envied her outspoken stance on feminism and the need to support women in the workplace. Her book sat in my bedroom and I had read the whole thing even before working here.

These men were ordinary, run of the mill employees from different departments. No one of significant prominence. All they had were their zippers down and their hard cocks in hand, jerking, ready for a turn at her pussy, and that was enough for her. The men varied in age, mostly white, two black, and one asian.

Despite her reputation as a strong advocate for women's rights, Chana's participation in a gangbang left me feeling conflicted. On one hand, I admired her for owning her sexuality. On the other hand, this was far outside the realm of normal pleasure. 8 men? It was beyond a gangbang, it was a deep craving.

As the guy who's fucking pulled his cock out and jerked over her stomach, it dawned on me, I'd never been so aroused in my life. Nothing could compare to that moment, the intensity I felt between my legs, the jolt in my nipples. That moment existed outside of my comprehension. I looked at the cocks, I looked at Chana's wet pussy as the next guy entered.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the next round, and for the first time since entering this conference room, she turned her attention in my direction, not caring how disheveled she looked, or that she was being seen this way.

"Are you the one with big nipples?" she asked.

"That would be me."

All eyes turned to my direction, curious about what they'd heard.

"Would you mind getting naked, darling?" she asked. "Someone told me about them, I'm interested to see what the fuss is about."

"Sure, I can do that."

Calling that moment uncomfortable would be the understatement of the year. It was different from being nude in the country club. In that conference room, men were ravenous, sex starved with their cocks in hand. Their attention went back and forth between fucking Chana and watching me undress. Some of these guys I knew and they were eager to see me naked for the first time. They were licking their chops. Of course, their attention went to my nipples when my top came off, thanks to all the hype Chana gave them.

My clothes were on the conference table. My bare feet on the carpet. My first exposure to a gangbang was a memorable one, Chana at her side of the conference table, I was escorted to the other side. The men formed different lines, some of whom double dipped. There were times when she was bent over and we looked each other in the eyes while our sexuality was pushed to the brink. It was a battle of who could take more, of who could make the table shake harder.

Of all the emotions I felt that night, one that you might find interesting (because it's unusual) was that I bested Chana Greenberg in some way. Getting more attention than her, having that `newness' factor, my nipples. I was a sales associate -- bottom of the totem pole -- and I was more desired than the COO herself, beating her at her own game, even though there was never a competition between us.

Where she beat me was her appetite to swallow cum. A lot of it. She got on her knees and let guys jerk into her mouth, forming a thick white pool. She made sure to deepthroat everyone before they left, cleaning every drop, even the cum which had been shot onto her stomach from earlier. At the time I presumed it was her competitive nature and wanting to be better than me. But I later learned that Greenberg was the cum queen of the entire corporation. That was how she became the COO, and eventually the CEO years later, because she was willing (and able) to give the best blowjobs to key shareholders.

I learned that the first gangbang is the most stressful. Dr. Meyers explained that to me in her office the following week. She wanted every detail, every feeling I had. In exchange she explained her own gangbang experiences. As a licensed psychologist, Dr. Meyers wanted to maintain a sense of structure for me, so she made a chart to analyze my emotions.

The chart also helped ensure that nothing was too much. Or too little. She explained that I'd be `on-call' and certain people within the corporation would be privy to this information. Gangbangs couldn't exceed once a month. Never more than 8 people. Blowjobs were routine. Pussy licking was a must. I was popular with the wives and that made the bosses happy.

A week later I was given a new contract, my pay structure increased by a lot, so did the benefits. Sexual acts were never mentioned on the paper, but it was presumed. The lawyer was this beautiful hispanic woman, almost twice my age, and she wanted her pussy eaten after I'd signed the contract. To be honest, money was no longer a priority.

xxx

It dawns on me that most people won't believe this story. But there will be people who've worked for big corporations who'll think, `You know, I've always had a suspicion that something was going on.'

That's my target audience. Everyone else would be reading for entertainment.

Evidence speaks volumes. I get undressed in my office, going fully nude. My office is on the fourth floor and I have a window view overlooking the spacious garden. There are a few people outside taking a walk, I'm standing by the window and everything is off, with my clothes on a chair, undergarments on the desk.

I grab my phone and take pictures of my desk with the outline on my laptop. My undergarments are strategically placed to cover anything that may identify me. My name, the corporate name, anything. The fancy office should give some level of proof to interested publishers.

Then I switch the camera to selfie mode, getting shots of my big nipples and figure. I'm still in amazing shape these days, though not what I used to be. I take shots of my private area as well, including while sitting down with my legs spread. Tomorrow I'll send the story draft along with the pictures to gauge interest.

I put a foot on the table and bring a hand down below. I rub myself, needing to have an orgasm so bad. Sexual pleasure is so ingrained in my life that it's hard to find new pleasures, and I view my potential book as a new way of getting a rush.

There's a knock on my door, and before I can yell, `Wait,' the door opens. How rude. Christina enters and her jaw drops. She's the new girl, a straight-laced sales associate, much like I was all those years ago. She knows nothing of the lifestyle, but she will soon I guess.

"Uhh... sorry..." she says.

If she were polite, she'd turn around and leave, closing the door behind her. But she's frozen. I'm naked and covering myself. I remain calm. Yelling at her would only weaken my authority as her boss, so I remain confident, defiant in my nudity.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"I... uhhh... should I come back later?"

"You're already here."

"I believe I've found a lead for a complex deal. It could be worth a lot of money. I'm so sorry, I'll come back later."

"No, I have to leave early. Have a seat. I want to hear this."

Christina closes the door, her footsteps and body language are nervous as she sits across from me. I was near an orgasm before she came here, so beneath the desk, I touch myself while she's talking. She knows what I'm doing, but she doesn't stop. She breathes deeper as she's talking. I love her ideas, she's intelligent and understands the business.

When I give myself an orgasm, she's perplexed, but she can't look away.

"Did I come at a bad time?" she asks.

"Actually, you came at the right time."

"How so?"

"You must have a million questions. Here, let me show you something. I want your feedback."

I toss my undergarments off my desk as Christina comes over to me. Her nervousness is fading, instead she's excited about what I'm going to show her. I stand, letting Christina sit in my chair, and her eyes turn wide seeing the word `gangbang' written several times on the screen.

She glances at my huge nipples which are close to her face. Then she looks at the screen again. I'm curious what she'll think of my story, and who knows, maybe she'll be a great fit. Her pouty lips could make a lot of people happy, including myself. And I'd love to eat her out.

The End

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