SHE'S THE BOSS Part 3 By Thalaxian

'Please stop talking.'

She rubs my arm. 'Oh, honey. Don't shoot the messenger.'

'How can you do this? How can you be so smug about it?'

Irina chuckles. 'Theo, honey, you can't even look at me. Why is that?'

God, she's right. About this, about so many things. It's vulgar to the extreme, but I can't look at her. Not with a straight face. Not if I want to rebel, and resist, and refuse. One look at Irina, and I'm struck by her beauty. Struck by this powerful inability to truly despise her. Because as evil as she is, as fucked-up as I clearly am, I associate her with so much pleasure. So much wonderful lustiness.

'Because I want to fuck you,' I say, letting it just slip. No looking, of course. The words do enough. 'I want to kiss you, and suck on your tits, and fuck them, and fuck you, in every hole. And be...be fucked by you, as well.'

It's not that my resistance is fading, as such. I'd be lying, to say that my words are untrue. To pretend that when I behold this bronze-fleshed Amazonian, beautiful as she is terrible, I don't have a powerful urge to do things to her. With her. But I'm exhausted. Completely exhausted today, and the filter is not where it should be.

'Look at me, honey. Please.'

'No.'

But Irina takes my jaw with the gentlest of grips, and for whatever reason, beneath her silken touch, I turn. Behold that dark beauty, so well made-up, eyes emerald explosions rimmed in Egyptian-styled mascara. And when she brings her lips against mine, I do nothing. Can do nothing. Perhaps, in some gruesome way, want to do nothing.

'Mhm.'

Smooch. Smack.

Because Irina's lips are wonderful, and her breath is sweet, and her spit is delicious. She effortlessly takes control, sticking her tongue inside my mouth, snogging me with fiery passion. Doing this awful thing and I should stop her and fight back, but I don't. I just don't.

She moves back into the kiss, but the chauffeur halts the car before our lips touch anew. I'm halfway going for it, all the worse. Irina winks at me, pecks my cheek, and gestures to the door. 'Come on, honey. Let's set that ball rolling.'

I don't know why I go with her. I don't know much, anymore. God, I wanted to kiss her, didn't I? Wanted more than that. Just like I didn't want the blowjobs to stop earlier. I'm captivated, in the worst of ways, by Irina Blackwell. A victim of her, yes, but now becoming some supplicant. Some obedient pet for her to command and direct.

She reaches down and gropes me.

'You know this is right, honey. I take, Theo. I take what I want, and you? You're taken. It's just how things are. What I'm doing here? I'm doing it for us. Doing it for you.'

'How can you...how can you be so--ugh--deluded?'

I groan, because her hand knows just how to please. For someone so set on being worshipped, she can return the favour effortlessly. Her fingers grip and stroke, tugging at my captive length, urging me into the realms of pleasure while my thoughts are gridlocked by pain.

———x———

She smells good. Feels good. Looks good. Isn't good at all, is fucking evil, but I am struggling now. I'm struggling to reject this situation in its entirety. A decision made to preserve my job, to ensure my career's continued trajectory, holds in the shadows of its reasoning notions that I really, really don't like.

Because fucking hell, Irina Blackwell's body is exquisite. One of her breasts is partially resting against my chest, their fullness and heft simply indescribable.

Held as I am like a trophy, a prize for her efforts, I'm engulfed by the sheer voluptuous of her hips and thighs and bosoms.

And periodically my eyes dip to that mammoth member between her thighs, a hulking length of cock sat atop the biggest balls imaginable. Such Amazonian qualities, all in one woman. Abundant appeal, with both her feminine and masculine qualities. Because as much as I've dreaded such appreciation, it's impossible to pretend I don't find Irina's cock attractive.

'All this tossing and turning,' Irina says, catching me by surprise. She strokes my arm softly and yawns. 'What's the matter, Theo?'

'Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.'

'It's all right, honey.' She lifts her hand to my head and begins idly playing with my hair. 'I'm a light sleeper at the best of times, and the excitement doesn't help matters.'

'How can you be so casual about this?'

'Casual about what? We're a family. This is a special type of connection we share.'

The heat of the moment and the cool of the night are drastically different things. I've gotten myself into this situation through some combination of lust and greed, and God I wish I could just excise those parts of myself that resist even now. Those parts of me that, when the fire of desire is cold and ashen, seem to swallow up the skies of my inner world, plunging all into darkness.

'You raped me, Irina,' I say. I say, while not making any effort to free myself from her warmth and softness and pleasant fragrance. 'All you care about is yourself.'

'By all means leave out your eager role in that first night, honey.'

'I never consented to having a cock put inside me!'

Irina sighs, and in the dark I find a smirk on her full-lipped mouth. 'Because you hadn't learned your place. Because you didn't realise how lucky you'd be to be mounted by someone of my quality.' She continues to play with my hair, treating me like some pet. 'I simply want you to agree, Theo, that my way is the best way. And honestly, I thought earlier today that you'd finally come around, but still you resist. That part of you that craves me is still, wrongfully, denied its place at the table.'

'This got so out of control. I should've left when Maddie mocked me. Saved myself the hassle of your continued efforts to crush my spirit.'

'Yes, well, I saw no alternative. I want you, and I will have you. You resisted my offering of honey, so you instead get vinegar,' Irina says.

'Don't you dare play victim.'

She chuckles softly. 'The farthest thing, honey. What I've done to you hasn't been good, but what would you have done in my stead?'

'I'd have given up,' I say. 'I'd have accepted that this is a dead end.'

Irina tilts her head my way, brings her lips to rest atop my scalp. Still she strokes, this weird form of affection. Distinctly unsettling, paired with her words. Her unwillingness to let me go, or to consider even the passing possibility of not winning.

'But it's clearly not a dead end,' Irina says. 'What I want is for the best, honey.'

'Bullshit. It's best for you.'

Irina kisses my hair, inhales my scent. Almost romantic, if it weren't her. 'Does anything come close to being fucked me, Theo?

Inside of Mads. Inside of Mads. Inside of Mads.

So why do I say nothing? Why don't I say that?

Why is there an uncomfortable silence between us, while I stare up at the ceiling, dimly aware of her touch and her lips, the sweetness of her breath, the plump perfection of her voluptuous body. Why can't I just state the obvious?

Oh, but I know, don't I? Given the choice, given just the sensations without any emotional or historical connections, I'd pick my boss's huge futanari cock each and every fucking time.

'It's okay,' Irina says, as I sniffle. As the tears come, my sobbing muted for Maddie's sake. 'Oh, honey, it's okay.'

When she pulls me against her, I go with it. Find myself resting atop one of the enormous K-cup breasts of Irina Blackwell, crying softly because of what she's done to me. Because of all that I've gone through, to end up here, to have no idea what I'm doing. No idea how to make sense of this situation that doesn't involve me losing out on something.

It's not just greed, is it? I could do without the seventy-kay, but I doubt a single day would go by where I wouldn't find myself, even in passing, thinking about Irina. Thinking about that which shouldn't have happened, yet did.

'I can't have a life now,' I say, at once delighted and disgusted by the cushioning breast meat. 'I can't have kids, I can't have a girlfriend, can't have any of it.' I stare out in the darkness across the other bronze hillock, finding Mads there sleeping innocently, wholly unaware. 'I either leave, and lose what I suffered to obtain, or I stay, and have nothing.'

Irina says nothing for a moment, running her hand down my neck. She eases somehow one style of goosebumps, while creating more of her own. Delicate fingers with noticeable nails, silken skin a form of weaponised affection. An unspoken threat, that I am at her mercy.

'Do you remember the first night, Theo? Before I raped you?'

It's somehow difficult to piece together, but I suppose in the wake of that gigantic cock, little else seems comparable. Breasts, kissing, cumming?

'Barely.'

Irina easily shifts me again. She releases the deeply slumbering Mads and takes hold of me with both hands, her height and strength allowing her to pull me atop her body, to rest my chin between the dark valley of her breasts. To look upon me, her beauty demonic in the night, a succubus temptress, a thing capable of establishing all manner of dubious bargains.

'I kissed you, Theo. I let you suckle on my tits, I put your cock between them. I tasted your semen, and it was delicious,' she says, locking her arms across the backs of my shoulders. Squeezed as I am between her massive mammaries, in their sweet fragrance, all is far more complicated than it should be. 'I didn't do that as a show, honey. It wasn't a trap, though it was obviously necessary. So far I've broken you down, that I can build you up again. I prefer men, Theo. Male bodies. I've no aversion to your penis, but I do have an active interest in sculpting you to suit my needs. I said you were perfect, and it's true, but that perfection is useless if you're still resisting.'

For the first time in perhaps ever -- and it would naturally have to occur in the lowest hours of the night -- Irina doesn't seem...insurmountable? Like somewhere, beneath all of that arrogant evil, there might be some shrivelled scrap of soul, some yet-beating human element.

And even that, it seems, rates herself more highly than me.

'When I'm convinced that you're broken, Theo, I'll happily put my womanly charms to use with you. When I can finally rebuild you, properly, as just what I'm looking for, then there's no risk of sucking you off or letting you fuck my tits.' She strokes my shoulders, squeezes tight. 'But right now, you're still in this limbo state of searching for an escape. I've told you what that looks like, I've told you -- and you appreciate -- that you'll lose all of this. How can I take care of your needs, honey, when you're still dead set on avoiding mine?'

Faint light from outside, city light, streetlight, hits her emerald eyes just enough to reveal them, and with them, the outline of her perfect face. Irina isn't smirking, for a change. The way she considers me, such thoughtfulness, pairs with her sordid embrace to perpetuate this feeling of deep unease.

Unease because, try as I might, there's such temptation in her designs. The woman I wanted from the start, at least physically, might be a possibility if only I can abandon any hope of an alternative. If only I can acknowledge her, once and forever, as my superior.

But I can't. Not yet. Not tonight. And as much as I wish I could think, "Not ever!", I'm not so sure.

When daylight finally arrives, I wake up with my head nestled in the mountainous mammaries of the statuesque futanari.

To be seen like this, to be comfortable, is abhorrent. Wrong.

'Sorry honey,' Irina says, smiling smugly. 'I'd have woken you, but you just looked too cute to disturb.' She does this thing with her arms, lifting them and in the process pushing together her gigantic tits, smothering my face. Provoking a guilty erection. 'I'd love for you to take out my morning load, but we really must be getting into the office.'

Irina pushes me onto my back. 'How is this going to play out, honey?' she says, sitting herself upright against the headboard. Tall and voluptuous, her heavy breasts sag pleasingly, combining with her curvaceous hips and legs to create that ever-distressing desire in me. 'Are you going to be nice, or are we going to have problems?'

If I survived witnessing the potential impregnation of Maddie, then surely I can survive anything, right? I lose so much in rebelling, and gain so much in staying.

'I'm not going to fight anymore,' I say. 'You win, Mummy.'

'So we'll be a family, then? You and me?'

I nod, and blush. Her cock is growing hard, somehow responding to what on the surface is a distinctly non-sexual conversation. But the truth is, for Irina Blackwell, this "family" is anything but.

'We'll be fine,' Irina says, eyes not leaving me. 'Come, honey.' She tugs on my wrist. 'Let's get nice and clean.'

The pretty blonde blushes, finding something awkward and alluring in the fact that she's been cast aside. With how Irina grips me, guiding me along behind her towards the bathroom, I get the distinct impression that there's no rush at all, and that in reality my boss is simply looking for opportunities to make the most of this apparent streak of success.

And the moment the lock clicks into place, Irina's passions show themselves.

'I finally have you,' she says, embracing me from behind, her breasts squishing against my shoulders. Her smile, in the mirror, is a thing of wickedness and awful affection. 'After all this time you're mine, honey.'

I'm struck dumb by the strange proclamation. There's this worrying element, this side of things that has me deeply concerned. Because the way Irina smiles, the way she studies my body, fondles me with ever-groping hands, suggests something troublesome.

It'd somehow be better if I didn't believe she actually had positive feelings for me. It'd be better if her ultimate goal here was simply to humiliate me, to break my mind, but under the sway of her affections I'm struggling to believe that that's the full picture. That maybe Irina has this tremendously warped view of loving me, and of how to make me love her.

'Mummy, don't we need to go to work?'

Her eyes glisten, and her cock pushes up against my cheeks, growing in firmness. 'We'll go when you're done washing me, honey. None of us need to be in early, after all. I do make the rules.'

Washing her. Okay. If I have to, sure. But when I try to move, she holds me firm. 'The shower, Mummy?'

Irina shakes her head. 'Oh, I don't need one today. Just a bit of a whore wash, that's all.' She lifts her arms up and locks them behind her head, revealing pretty pits with faint dark stubble. 'And you're the whore. Why don't you start with my armpits, Theo?'

A lump of nerves coagulates behind my tonsils, because I'm starting to think that this isn't going to involve any flannels or water. 'Um, Mummy?'

'Yes, honey?'

'How am I meant to wash you?'

The dominant futanari grins, and licks her full and gorgeous lips. 'With your mouth, honey. You're going to wash Mummy's body with your mouth.'

I suck in a breath, in low terror. The grim truth of things is that, in a sense, matters between us have been easier up until now because I don't really interact much with Irina's body. There's only the rare kiss, and I keep my hands to myself. But I am badly, madly, attracted to her. If this is going to be normal, going forwards...I might actually break.

All this, to keep my job and maintain my part in things. Greed and lust, my twin demons.

And Irina the third, the one who warps me like no other in all the world.

'Okay, Mummy,' I say, trembling. Already my cock is hardening, the merest of sexual thoughts provoking a response. Licking armpits shouldn't do anything for me, but this is Irina Blackwell, after all. The one person who manages to pull lust out of apathy or even disgust. 'I'll clean you.'

I turn towards her as I say it, beholding her voluptuousness. Insane hips and monumental tits, a figure of profound proportions. For all her cushioning heft, the towering futanari is decently athletic, hints of toned musculature showing here and there, particularly as she flexes her arms and legs. 'I've been, um, starved, Mummy.'

She angles her right armpit towards me. 'Then this can be our special moment of the day, honey. The right kind of start, between a good boy and his Mummy.'

God, I want to go about this without touching her, but it's impossible. There's no way to avoid making this thing intimate, when I want nothing of the sort. It's so much easier to just be railed, to just suck dick, to just be some outlet for her lusts. But to touch her body? To find myself appreciating her smells, and her tastes, and her soft skin, and yielding curves?

No. No, I don't see a way out of this that won't start warping me utterly, so that sooner or later she'll have me eating out of her hand.

And so comes the invasive, evil, but remarkably logical thought: maybe that'll make things easier?

'I'm waiting, honey,' Irina says, twisting her torso left and right. Faint muscles flex beneath the fatty curves, Amazonian and alluring. What's the hold-up?'

Fuck it. Fuck it all. Get it over with.

God, she's so plush. Irina's wide womanliness is immensely cushioning. My fingers readily sink into the arches of her hips, into the faint folds where her belly meets her sides. It's a necessary evil. A...bothersome evil. I see no way to engage in her weird acts of intimacy without touching her, without being, well, intimate.

'Sorry, Mummy,' I say quickly, leaning into her heat and pleasing fragrance. 'I was just nervous...I've not touched you much.'

Irina chuckles softly. Her emerald eyes, enchanting sorcerous stones in a perfect face, follow my movements as I dip my head in towards her left armpit. Her breasts are too large to avoid, and Jesus Christ they're soft and pillowy, pressing against my upper chest in such a hefty fashion. Bumpy areolae, prominent nipples.

'You're going to be touching me a lot from now on, honey. Part of me being your Mummy is doing what I say, and treating my body just as it deserves. With worshipful affection.'

I shut my eyes and shiver, hating and loving this. Hating her, yet being in her thrall. Loving her body, loving how every inch of it looks, loving how she smells sweetly and strongly of womanliness and something extra.

'Of course, Mummy. I'll...worship you.'

And the worst of it is that I enjoy it so much. That I can't help but appreciate the way her hips feel against my hands, so squishy and plump, warm and welcoming. That I can't help but find the fuzz of stubble interesting against my tongue and the salty flavour of her sweat pleasing as it coats my tastebuds.

She chuckles, almost giggles, as I wash her pit with my tongue. It's so degrading, so humiliating, so strange and yet so sexy. An act of submission, an act of worship, an act of bizarre affection of the sort she so clearly craves and demands.

'So cute,' Irina says, lowering her other arm. She gropes my back, strokes down my naked shape. 'Such a handsome body on you, honey. It really gets me going. Whenever I see you I just want to mount you, or to push you onto your knees.'

Her admission shouldn't be surprising at this point, but it causes me to tremble all the same. It's something about her affection that is fundamentally troublesome, the way in which she behaves with such open meanness and yet appears to have this intense interest in me, this desire for me which makes all of her degradation and humiliation seem faulty.

I can't wrap my head around the idea of being so awful to someone and yet apparently desiring them so badly. She's insane. Clearly insane.

But then given that my cock responds to her remark by throbbing and firming up, I might have a decent dose of madness in me as well.

Irina pulls my head out from her armpit and stares down at me with a hunger I've not seen on her before. She looks like she might eat me.

But then the dusky Amazoness lifts her other hand from me, switching grips. 'The other, honey. And then you'll wash my breasts.' She winks, emerald excellence. 'Something to look forward to.'

How guilty I feel, that it actually is something to be excited about. That she's right. It plagues my head as I move to her other armpit, as she plies those fingers up and down the dip of my back, tracing out the curvature of my spine. The backbone, that I clearly fucking lack.

And God, my cock is so fucking hard now. It's not long before she notices, as I begin to lick "clean" her other stubbly pit.

'Oh, honey,' Irina says, slipping that hand around to my front. She gently dips her fingers down, then pulls them back, teasing at the inevitable. 'What a lovely cock you have. And it's not shy, is it? Despite being in the presence of a resplendently superior article.'

I suck in a mouthful of sweetly fragrant armpit air as she brushes the top of my annoying erection with her fingernails, their sharpness and warmth provoking a troublesome shiver through me.

'M-ummy...you shouldn't.'

'Shouldn't I? Shouldn't I take care of my lovely boy's beautiful dick?' Irina chuckles, mocking and alluring at once, as she slips her fingers around my pole. Her skin is silken, her touch hot, but it's unwanted. Unwanted, and yet awfully enjoyable. 'Submit to me, Theo. Acknowledge your place. We both know you're not there yet, but would it hurt to fall to your knees and worship me like the goddess I am?'

This time it's me who leaves her armpit, but Irina doesn't protest. Her smile is unbearable, so arrogantly attractive. The way she considers me, some pet or plaything, some lesser human, should provoke nothing but hatred.

I really am fucked up, aren't I? All of this. Any of it. I should've left at the start. Should've gone to the police and taken my chances. But fuck, there was some kernel there. Some seed planted in me. And look how it's blossomed.

Look where I am now. Stood alone in the bathroom, door locked, under the pretence of "showering" but everyone knows it's a lie. This is just another stepping stone towards whatever hell it is I'm going to, and the deeper I wander into this tunnel of temptations the harder it is to respect myself. And at the same time, the harder it is to hate where I'm headed.

'I call you Mummy,' I say. 'I play along. You get what you want.'

She slowly shakes her head, lengthy ponytail of crimson shifting. 'But I don't, honey. Remember what we said, about religion? About contracts? This will be right, will be as I need it, when there exists no notion of refusal. When you don't simply act the part, but believe. Mummy is just a word, Theo, but I want more than words. I want your heart.'

Somehow I do nothing. Somehow she reaches for my chin with her newly freed hand and scoops it up, tilts my head back, and dips herself forwards to press her lips upon mine. For a moment I resist, clam up, but then I'm...then I'm kissing her back. Tasting her sweetness, basking in the heat of her body, and the way she slowly tugs on my length.

'Mhm.'

How can I like this? How can I want it? Jesus Christ. The easy path, the path of least resistance, grows harder and harder because I have to resist, I have to maintain some part of me that's still the Theo I knew.

But he becomes fainter with each passing day. He's overshadowed, time and again, by the new Theo who is coming to love his chains.

'It's not so bad,' Irina says, sweet and whispered. She pulls away slightly, brushing her nose against mine. 'It's not, is it? It can be nice, honey. It can be lovely. But you have to submit. You have to see me as what I am.'

It's like seeing myself from outside myself. Irina doesn't need to push or urge, because I just go with it. Go with the way she pulls me into that voluptuous valley of her chest, into the warmth of her body while her huge-helmeted cock pokes against my own.

I can't think. Can't think of a single "gotcha" to end the thought spiral. There must be something that I do better, but what? Shit, I'm not her! But...that hardly seems convincing.

Because all the other areas where Irina comes out on top are passingly quantifiable. Things that other people might actually judge.

'Good boy,' Irina says, massaging my shoulders. 'Make sure to get the undersides. They get a little sweaty, being so big and all.'

I'm tasting her sweat, and I can't hate it. Can't help but adore the way her tits swallow my face, engulf me with their excellence. The biggest and fattest and most beautiful pair of breasts in all the world, at least as I've seen. Attached to Irina, who just has to have it all. Has to be so perfect, except for that rotten core of her mind. Her total absence of a soul.

But fuck me, the affection feels weirdly genuine.

Irina continues to ply the flesh of my shoulders as I find myself fighting the powerful urge to motorboat her massive melons, to take actual vulgar interest in doing this thing that I need to hate and need to loathe and need to not want but...it's difficult. Hard. Harder than my cock is right now.

'There, honey. Clean my--mhm--naughty fat tits with that lovely servile tongue.'

I shiver as she speaks, shudder as I run my tastebuds down beneath her bulky breasts, one after the other, finding myself engulfed by their excessive enormity. The sheer fatness of each bulky breast, as they naturally sag down and their weight presses my tongue between titty and her torso, is an awfully awesome thing.

Her body is just...it's just...

'Here,' she says, gripping the back of my head. 'Nurse on Mummy.'

And I let her do it. Let her just guide my mouth up to the middle of her right boob, where my lips meet that bumpy wide halo and then that protruding nipple, rigidly aroused. Instinct takes over, stabs sense in the side, leaves reason writhing as my disturbing desire for the dusky-skinned dickgirl Amazonian asserts itself over my deeds.

Mlep. Slurp.

Irina giggles, more girlish than adult. 'Ooh. I do so love that. Suckle, honey. No milk's going to come out, but we can pretend, can't we? God, we can enjoy pretending.'

I sink one of my hands into each breast, steadying myself by fondling and groping the yielding perfection of her 44K chest. Irina doesn't mind, doesn't stop me. I'm so little a threat now, clearly. And the less threatening I am, the more she'll loosen up, the more things will get to a place that's more mutual, despite being the farthest thing from it.

Because I'm not her partner, but a pet. A plaything. A toy.

'Good boy,' she says, stroking my hair, patting my head. 'Mummy's good boy. Mummy's best boy.'

My eyelids flutter as I suck with such passionate intensity, flicking my tongue about her nipple, tasting the saltiness of her skin, relishing the bumpiness of her areola. Pressing against her breasts my face sinks in, swallowed up by the softness, the beautiful bounciness of what must be up there as some of the finest breasts in all the world.

And they're Irina's, and that's terrible. But they're Irina's...and something about that is, at the same time, perversely sexy.

Schlep. Mlup.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

'That mouth just doesn't quit, does it?' She chuckles. 'The other now, Theo. Clean them both. Be a good boy.'

There's this awkward moment where I pause, a string of saliva connecting my mouth to her breast. I see Irina, and Irina sees me. And she's never looked more in control, proud, dominant. As if I'm a dog and she's thrown me a bone, knowing that I'm so weak, so malleable.

"I could make you suck my cock or I could fuck you, but I can just as well make you wash your body with my tongue. Because you will, won't you? And you'll enjoy it. You enjoy all of it. You enjoy everything."

It's what her eyes say. What that look says. And it's right, I suppose, because I just dip my head down upon her other breast, sucking away, lapping and licking like a starved fool drinking from the most wonderful source of sustenance in all the world.

'See what obedience gets you?' Irina says, all soft and whispery. 'You get to worship me, honey. You get to affirm as your goddess. With every subtle suck and lick, you're telling me your truth, honey. You're telling me how you really see me.'

I wince and shut my eyes and wish she was entirely wrong, wish I could just shout her down, but...this does feel so natural, doesn't it? I touch her flesh and I'm in awe, excited, desperately aroused. I ply her wonderful body and I want more of it, want to explore it, want to...to worship it.

Again that thought, that realisation that if only Irina weren't who she is, she'd be perfect. I'd accept her exactly as she is physically, cock and balls included. I'd even be happy to submit in an affectionate manner, a playful but otherwise equal approach.

But what does it say about me that I don't seem to care who she is? That I do this thing and love it, fucking crave it, while knowing full-well her nature?

I'm not in the dark here. I can't be excused. It's as simple as this: I find her disgusting as a human being, and yet nobody else in the world arouses me half so much.

'Mhm. Mumph.'

Schlup. Schlap.

'That's it, baby. Mhm. Nurse on me. Nurse on Mummy.'

I fondle the other breast with my left hand, grope one of her hips with my right. Suckle and slurp on her fat fucking tits, wholly absorbed in this act that -- cleaning it is certainly not -- tells her all that she needs to know. Tells me plenty, and yet I resist the truth it contains.

I simply don't hate her enough.

'Down, honey. On your knees.'

A lump of nerves bundles up in my throat as she applies dedicated force, not harsh or sudden, but firm and irresistible. Irina pushes me and I can do nothing but accept this fate, slipping onto the floor, knees upon the hard tiles. Her erection, that enormous length of beautiful bronze flesh, so intimidating and powerful, brushes against my bare chest. The muskiness of her crotch is particularly nose-tickling, not at all unpleasant but definitely unwashed from last night, rich with pseudo-masculine virility, stale semen, and the sweetly tangy fragrance of mingling sexes. Her oil-black pubes, glistening away like a forest at the base of her dick, fading as dusky flesh dips into that dangling overstuffed sack, are temptingly familiar.

I almost speak, expectant of her penis, for this to become a blowjob, but my boss promptly turns about and presents her exceedingly plump buttocks to me. Each cheek is easily larger than my head, and I'm gruesomely aware of what she's after. Particularly when she uses her hands to part their fatty heft and reveal a gorgeously smooth sphincter, puckered and lustrous, a shade of chocolate brown.

'Eat up, honey. Clean Mummy's arse with that dutiful tongue.'

The command is heard, but...adhering is another matter. It's not that it's necessarily unclean, but the perception is there. Her smells if anything are pleasant, even in their more pungent aspects. Sensuality oozing from every contour of her form.

'Mummy...do I really have to?'

Irina nods, chuckling. Her lovely length of crimson hair, that veritable mane of red, rises and falls up the ditch of her beautiful back. Even from behind, her body is exquisite. The obviousness of her hips, the heavy hourglass of her figure.

'You do, honey. You're a good boy, aren't you? You want to do right by me, don't you?'

No, but yes. I don't, but do. Even her exposed anus, gorgeous as the rest of her, is tantalising. And I'm so far gone, so deep into this whole process. Does it matter?

'I am,' I say, reaching for the backs of her thighs. 'I'm...I'm a good boy, Mummy.'

The muskiness of her body makes me salivate as I grow so close that its richness overwhelms my nostrils. Her fertility, her virility. That pheromonal power, not arcane or supernatural but the simple bodily awareness of mating and rutting and breeding and all that biological perverseness. That reminder that I'm just an animal, and she's just an animal, and sex is in our fucking DNA.

Sex of any kind, given our imaginativeness as a species.

And beyond the faint bitterness, mingling with the general saltiness of her skin, I like it. More than like it. The heat and the lustrousness of her sphincter, the faint wrinkles of it against my tongue, are incredibly pleasant. Irina steadily softens the way in which she holds apart her cheeks, letting them sandwich my face in her crack. Maybe once I'd have been startled by the sense of humid engulfment, but not now. Not this latest iteration in a line of vile submissive cretins that all share the name "Theo".

Slup. Mlep.

I lick, and she trembles. 'Ooh. Honey. Dirty boy.' I lick, and she quivers. 'Ughn. I wondered how far you'd--mhm--go. Take things.' I lick, and she shudders. 'I've done you such a favour, haven't I? Letting you--aahn--relish in your squalor. In how pathetic you are.'

'Mhm. Mumph.'

And as my hands sink into the fat of her thighs, and as my tongue begins widening the opening between her plump butt cheeks, I have no answer. Not in me or out of me. Even this is good, is nice. Even this.

Schlep. Schluck.

'That's it, honey. Find my--ugh--prostate. Do it. Get right in there, you slutty little loser.'

Her words only spur me to act, to push on. Her arsehole widens and accepts my intrepid tongue, squeezing down on my length of luridness while I sloppily dig deeper and deeper into that dirtiest of depths. The saltiness of her skin gives way to a general low bitterness, not unpleasant, but faintly filthy. She's clean, but it's still a bum. Still a particularly vulgar place.

'Mhm-hm.'

As I stroke her thighs and squeeze them, as her humid cheeks clench and unclench against my face, I'm surprised at how naturally this comes to me. How instinctual it is, this process of touching on a silken spot and noting her response, and then applying extra care to that region. How for as badly as I dislike her, Irina...Irina does provoke servility in me.

Oh, I can imagine myself dominating her, pinning her down and screwing her, but I can't really picture it. Like a depressive, that version of the world is simply not realistic enough to pursue.

But my brain readily conjures any number of outcomes where I submit. Where I tend to her needs, and do so with eagerness. Eagerness I should despise, but eagerness all the same.

Slurp. Mlep.

'Ooh. Honey, you're so good at that.' She clenches, squeezing against my face. It feels incredible, to have such fat muscular cheeks practically swallowing half of my head. 'You're in your element back there, aren't you? You love my body ever so much.'

I do. God, I do. The best female form in all the world. Deliciously dusky skin and mountainous mammaries and heavenly hips and an awesome arse. And a huge cock, yes. And huge balls, yes.

I'm...I'm pretty sure I know where this is going. Pretty certain that if time isn't of the essence, she's going to make me clean her cock. And I'm going to suck it, of my own accord, because it'll just happen. Instinctively, that's what I'll do. I won't be able to resist.

Because I do so sorely appreciate her body, and what could be more appreciative than tasting, and savouring, and swallowing its genes?

I'm scared of how my head works, passingly and otherwise. Terrified that this far into things, with all the evidence in the world, some repulsive part of me still craves her in some fashion. Still longs for what I shouldn't.

It makes eating her arsehole ever so easy. Makes this whole thing not simply something to switch off on, but to eagerly engage with.

'Mhm.' Schlup. Mlap. 'Mumph.'

'As good as this feels, honey, there's a little bit more of me to focus on,' she says, pairing her words with a gentle pulling away. 'Or a big bit of me, to be pedantic.'

I can only watch, only stare, not so much aghast -- because I knew it would go this way -- but wide-eyed in trepidation as she turns herself about. As those fat cushioning cheeks slip away from my face and I'm left in the noticeably cooler, less finely fragrant air of Maddie's bathroom, my heart thunders and my cock twitches.

Irina Blackwell turns about, cock swinging, and angles it just so, just right to slap against the side of my face. A bulky lump of searing weight, erect and in need of release. My mind races with rejections but finds instead plentiful affirmations. That this is right, that this is necessary, that she's won, that I can't compete.

I wet my lips, tasting her salty sweat and bitter backside, and Irina chuckles. Her gaze, a thing of emerald enthralment, fits just as well in the face of some mythical dragon as it does the hugely hung Amazonian futanari.

'That's the look,' she says, giving my head a humiliating pat. 'That expression is perfect, honey. I think I'll wash my cock myself. You can go and get dressed. We'd best be heading into the office soon.'

'But...you said...I was going to...'

She brushes the backs of that hand's fingers down my cheek, nails warm and hard. 'I said what, Theo? What did I say?'

'I was going to...to clean you.'

Her cock, dangling ahead of me, inches away from my face, throbs visibly. Its veins bulge, its musk is rich and potent, heady. I'm salivating. I'm fucking salivating.

'We both know that's not what this is about, honey.' Irina cups my jaw and strokes my skin, lifting me casually to look at her. To meet that demonic smirk. Pride, manifest, the very embodiment of that sin. 'You don't have to tell me anything with words, because that mouth has already spoken. You're free to, of course. You can say anything you think might--'

'Don't clean your cock, Mummy. I...I'll do it. At work. Under your desk.'

Irina chews on her lower lip, eyes alive with victorious vainglory. 'I thought you might. You're starting to understand yourself, aren't you? To see what I see.'

I nod, slow as can be. 'I can't resist you. I need to and I want to, but I can't.'

'That's not true, honey. All that I've done, I've done to ensure that it's not true.'

'How?'

'How much more of a cage do you want to build before you can finally allow yourself to think you're trapped, Theo? Don't you see? The moment you accept that there's no way out, there'll be no need to resist me.' She squeezes my jaw and smiles serenely. 'You have this job and you have our deal and you have your contract, but still you're not letting it go. How deep must this pit go before you realise you can't scale the walls?'

She wets her lips and releases my face, bringing that same hand to her shaft. That perfect pole, that bronze beauty. Irina's member rises at her urging, so fat and heavy, some lance of raw heat and primal passion. I find myself staring as the richly stinking hooded head comes up before my mouth, its silken folds of excess skin threatening to brush my lips.

The most intimidating sight in all the world, and I can't stop myself from salivating. Can't take my eyes off of it.

Irina pulls back her foreskin, freeing the plum-purple tip, so vast and vulgar, glossy and gorgeous. My nostrils tingle, struck by the sensuality of its muskiness. I want to lick my lips, want to taste her. Want this thing I should despise, want this woman I should loathe.

'There's no way out, honey,' Irina says. 'I own you. Nobody could judge you for giving me what I want. And if you want it too, does it matter? Won't we both be happy?'

I lick my lips, and part them. Lean forwards, reaching, craving, hungry and needy and fuck it, fuck it all, who cares? I'm pathetic and she's evil, but she's won. The more I fight the deeper the hole gets. The higher the cost of rebelling.

But at the last moment, when my tastebuds might be graced by that delicious dick, Irina lifts it up and out of reach.

'I thought as much,' she says, giving my head a tussle. 'I'm going to go and get dressed, Theo. You know that my door's always open, honey.'

As the dusky dickgirl saunters away, I stare at my hands. Halfway up, ready to take hold of her pride and joy. To help me milk her of her first big batch of futanari semen, the freshest and heaviest of a day's worth of vastly virile ejaculations.

I turn and follow Irina's path, 

Fuck me, it's becoming harder and harder to stop myself.