Three Rugged Bosses and a Clueless Girl

Chapter 9

The only thing that could be heard in the metal office was Michelle’s ragged sobbing breaths—her ass was still stinging for goodness sake, and she was never going to recover from it.

And then the sound of their zippers being pulled down blazed through her entire body. She jerked at the binds on her wrists. A flood of wetness dripped from her pussy, and her clit ached with such tormenting fervor that if she didn’t touch herself, she was going to explode.

She swung her head around to look behind her, and the strangled whimper that rose from her throat to her tongue didn’t sound like it came from her. It sounded like it came from her entire, needy body. What was happening to her? These men were her brother’s best friends. They grew up together. They thought of her as a pest on good days, and the rest of the time, they didn’t bother with her and didn’t care whether she existed or not.

How could her body betray her like this?

But the sight before her would remain etched in her mind until the end of eternity.

Marc, Jake, and Evan had removed their immensely large and bulbous cocks from their white boxer briefs and were spreading their pre-cum on the dome-shaped cap of her favorite bottle of perfume.

Her breath was more staggered now than when Marc had been spanking her with his belt. Her body was burning more ferociously now than when the leather of his belt had sunk into her skin and sent up a cacophony of fireworks.

She closed her eyes and relived the few seconds of what she had seen in her mind. Their cocks were so big, long, and thick, wrapped with veins that ran like rivers all around their significant width. The pre-cum that had glistened from the slits in the heads of their shafts had mesmerized her as if it were a pool of water she wanted to taste to quench her thirst.

Their forearms were corded with muscle, and their hands, large, rough, and calloused, were strong and sexy. Then they’d used their fingertips to swipe away their wetness and coated the glass dome-shaped cap of her perfume bottle while, between her legs, her own copious amounts of arousal remained untouched.

They didn’t want to touch her.

But they cut through her thoughts when she felt a hand on her lower back. Each callous burning through the bunched-up fabric of her skirt so she could feel it on her skin. Marc’s hand.

Jake and Evan parted her ass cheeks. A squeak of indignation fell from her lips. Oh god, no. But with her next breath, Marc probed the tight confines of her asshole fucking her over and over.

Dear god, what were they doing to her?

She braced herself, kicking her legs out until Jake and Evan pressed their thighs against her, keeping her in place while Marc penetrated the most intimate part of her body with the cap from her perfume bottle.

Tears slid down her face as he opened her up, pushing through her, weakening her, and yet making her wetter than ever. She writhed against the table, unable to take even a sliver more. She was going to disintegrate.

“Okay. Okay. I understand. I won’t… I won’t give anyone my panties anymore. I promise. Please, please.” But she wasn’t begging them to stop. She was begging them to touch her. Her body had gone into some sort of trance, and she couldn’t think straight. She needed to be touched.

“Fuck,” Jake roared behind her as they deserted her and came to stand in front of her. Jake immediately started to unbind one of her wrists.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” Evan said, dropping down so she could see his face. She shook her head, but everything was too much. They had touched her, and she had fallen over a cliff.

“Make yourself come now,” Marc commanded. She couldn’t, except that she did. She slipped the hand that Jake had released between her thighs and made herself come within seconds. She wasn’t even done before she was jerking to be freed completely.

They’d made her touch herself rather than touch her themselves. Her pride was not going to recover from that.

~~~***~~~

Well, just great. Michelle sobbed over a bowl of ice in the dark of her tiny apartment. She was right back at square one. Jobless. And not long now before she could add fingerless to her attributes as well.

Snake had come by, as pleasant as ever, and recited some tragic Shakespeare to her in between, telling her all the ways he could remove her fingers. Just a day in the life of Michelle Carter.

All that work and nothing to show for it.

She wasn’t meant to have the most embarrassing climax of her life in front of them. No, they weren’t meant to lift her skirt, spank her with a belt, take pity on her because they had no lube but found other ways, and then inserted the dome-shaped cap of her perfume bottle into her ass.

And she had come. Hard. Ferociously. Unendingly to the point where they fired her. Because that was what happened after they’d released her, and she had straightened her skirt, too mortified to remove the thing in her butt in front of them.

They were probably more embarrassed than she was.

Fuck my life.

Why would her body do that? She didn’t even like them. Not anymore, anyway. Not since that time after she turned nineteen.

She hadn’t checked her phone, too miserable to even move. But when it kept beeping nonstop, she dragged herself to her bedroom to find it and sat down on her bed when an influx of messages came through from Melissa.

She answered her call immediately without getting to read any of her messages first.

“Melissa, what’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

“Oh my god, you beautiful little slut you. I always knew you were going to take the world by storm. I just never thought it would be this way.”

“What are you talking about?” Michelle asked, only half interested. What fresh hell was awaiting her now?

“I just sent you a link.”

“I’ll call you back,” Michelle said absentmindedly as she clicked on the link Melissa had sent her. And she was sure she had heard her jaw drop.

There she was in the tiny little video edit, her saying fine, her with her hands on her hips in her pink skirt and white chiffon top, biting her lip, then a view of her backside, and then of course a slide of her panties. There it was. Her pink cotton panties with the word Saturday on them, except it had been Thursday when she had worn them.

What the heck? There was only one person who could have made that edit. Carl Ali. Argh. Well, it meant nothing, and she had no idea what Melissa was going on about. She called her back anyway.

“You watched it?” Melissa squealed.

“Yes, it’s nothing.”

“It’s nothing? Girl, that video is viral. Didn”t you see that?”

“Well, I have no idea why. I look stupid and—”

“Sometimes I want to shake you. First, you are fucking gorgeous, and that whole video is so fucking cute. I mean, look at you. But how did you not see who liked that video?”

“Just tell me. Hold on, I have to take this call.” She put Melissa on hold.

“You little shit. You said you were going to throw it away. Oh, I saw the video you did. The warehouse had a camera, didn’t it?”

“It did,” Carl said sheepishly on the other side.

“I should kill you.”

“You shouldn’t if you want a cool million dollars.”

“What are you talking about, Carl? I’m tired, and I want to go to bed.”

“Girl, you’re so clueless. A prince, a real prince, as in your royal fucking highness prince, liked that video of you, and he contacted me, saying he wants to pay me two million dollars for your panties, but he wants to meet you for dinner. You’re not going to say no because we both need the money. My father threw me out of the house, so now I’m homeless. I’m going to send you the details, and you’re going to show up.”

Michelle closed her eyes and dropped herself onto the bed. She tried to go over the last few minutes of her life. A prince. A million dollars. A viral video of her being ‘cute.’ Her panties.

She sprang up from the bed. A million dollars if she had dinner with a prince. She could pay off her mafia debt, and then she could go to the place furthest away from here, so she never had to see them again.