Steamy Surrender at TechLink
Embark on this tale of forbidden heat: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Jump to Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Shadows in the Server Room
Lisa’s heels clicked unevenly against the cold tile as she hurried through the back corridors of TechLink’s sprawling call center. It was already past noon on this humid Wednesday, the air thick with the buzz of servers humming like distant thunder. At 32, with her raven hair cascading in loose waves down her back and a figure that turned heads—full hips straining her pencil skirt, breasts pressing against her blouse—she’d always carried herself with a quiet confidence. Married three years to Tom, a mid-level sales guy for enterprise software, she juggled dreams of a bigger house, maybe kids, while nagging him gently about climbing the ladder. Today, though, something gnawed at her gut.
Victoria, her boss—a sleek, raven-eyed woman in her forties with a perpetual smirk—had texted her to come straight to the server room. No explanation. Lisa smoothed her skirt, the fabric whispering against her thighs, and punched in the code. The door hissed open, revealing racks of blinking lights, the metallic tang of ozone hanging heavy, mixed with stale coffee from someone’s forgotten mug.
“Close it behind you,” Victoria said, not looking up from her tablet. She lounged against a console, legs crossed in sheer stockings. Brock lumbered in from the shadows, the head field tech—six-foot-four, bearded, reeking of motor oil and cheap cologne. His massive hands flexed as he lit a smoke, the flame flickering yellow.
Lisa’s pulse quickened. “What’s going on? I have calls stacking up.”
Victoria slid a folder across the console. Glossy prints spilled out: Tom kissing her goodbye that morning at their apartment door. Her parents at the grocery store last weekend. And worse—a grainy shot of her little brother leaving his night shift at the warehouse.
“You recognize these?” Victoria purred, her voice like silk over gravel.
Lisa’s mouth went dry, tasting the faint bitterness of her morning latte. “What the hell? Are you stalking my family?”
Brock chuckled, smoke curling from his nostrils. “Wouldn’t want any accidents, sweetheart. Tech glitches happen. Trucks swerve. Wires snap.”
Her knees weakened, touching the edge of a server rack for support, its hum vibrating through her palms. Victoria leaned in, breath warm against Lisa’s ear. “You’re the office flirt, Lisa. Always bending over desks, legs on display. The field guys complain—distracting. So, new role: TechLink’s personal relief valve. Fuck whoever, whenever. Keep quiet, or…”
Lisa’s mind reeled. This couldn’t be real. Her wedding band bit into her finger as she clenched her fists. Steamy dread pooled in her belly, hot and unwelcome. “You’re blackmailing me? I… I have a husband.”
“Keep the rings on,” Brock grunted. “Makes it steamier.” 🔥
Victoria nodded. “Strip. Now. Or I hit send on these to your hubby with a note about your ‘side gigs’.”
Trembling, Lisa kicked off her pumps, the cool floor shocking her bare soles. Blouse unbuttoned, revealing lace bra cupping her heavy D-cups. Skirt pooled at her feet, panties damp from nervous sweat. Naked, vulnerable under the harsh LEDs, her skin prickled with goosebumps. The air smelled of circuits frying faintly, her own musky fear rising.
“Hands behind your head,” Victoria commanded. Lisa obeyed, thrusting her chest forward. Brock circled her like a wolf, pinching a nipple hard enough to draw a gasp. “Good girl. Field crew’s waiting. Time to earn your keep.”
Chapter 2: Field Tech Frenzy
They marched her through a side door into the loading bay, concrete vast and echoing, trucks idling with diesel fumes thick as fog. Tools clattered, cables snaked across the oil-slicked floor. A dozen field techs paused mid-task—greasy coveralls unzipped halfway, eyes lighting up like predators scenting blood.
“Boys,” Brock boomed, shoving Lisa into the center under a harsh sodium lamp. “Meet our new team mascot. All holes open, creampies encouraged—she’s protected.”
Laughter erupted, crude and hungry. Lisa’s cheeks burned, arms crossed over her breasts, but Brock yanked them down. “Show ’em what they’re working with.”
She spun slowly, the chill draft teasing her exposed slit, already glistening traitorously. One tech, a wiry guy named Jax with tattoos snaking up his arms, stepped forward. “Bend over, slut. Let’s inspect.”
On all fours, knees grinding grit into skin, she spread her thighs. Rough hands parted her cheeks, a thumb circling her puckered ring. The smell of sweat and rubber hit her nostrils. Fingers probed her folds roughly, slick sounds echoing obscenely.
“She’s soaked already,” Jax laughed. “Bet she’s been fantasizing about this steamy shit.”
Lisa whimpered, hating the truth in it—the forbidden thrill twisting with terror. A zipper rasped. Jax’s thick shaft slapped her ass, veined and angry red. He rammed in without mercy, stretching her walls, the burn making her cry out. Each thrust slapped wetly, his balls smacking her clit, building a shameful heat.
“Fuck, her cunt’s gripping like a vice,” he groaned, pounding faster. The bay filled with cheers, phones out recording. He flooded her depths with hot spurts, pulling out to let cum dribble down her thighs.
Next was Marco, shorter but hung like a horse—nine inches of curved menace. He flipped her onto her back atop a toolbox, legs over his shoulders. Her pussy squelched as he buried deep, the angle hitting her core. “Take it, office bitch,” he snarled, rutting like an animal. Her breasts bounced wildly, nipples pinched by onlookers.
Sweat slicked her body, tasting salt on her lips as she bit back moans. The steamy haze of bodies closing in choked her senses—grunts, flesh slapping, acrid smoke.
They rotated, a conveyor of cocks: some average but relentless, others monsters reaming her throat till she gagged on precum. Cum painted her face, pooled in her navel. By the fifth load in her ass—stretched raw by a burly vet named Tate—she was a quivering mess, orgasms ripping through despite herself, juices squirting onto the concrete.
“Look at her go,” Tate laughed, fingers knuckle-deep in her sopping heat while ass-fucking her. “Our little cum dumpster’s loving the steamy ride.”
Hours blurred. Tarps dragged out, her body twisted into every position—double penetrations splitting her wide, throats bulging with twin shafts. Sensory overload: rough calluses scraping skin, bitter seed coating tongue, the endless churn of hips against hers.
Finally, Brock hauled her up, body glistening with spend, bruises blooming on hips. “Back to the floor, whore. Work calls.”
Chapter 3: Victoria’s Velvet Cruelty
Legs wobbling, cum leaking down calves, Lisa stumbled back to the office wing. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, coworkers glancing up from cubicles, smirks spreading like wildfire. Victoria waited at her desk, legs spread wide in the chair, skirt hiked up.
“Clean up first,” she said coolly, tossing a rag. Lisa wiped futilely, the sticky mess smearing. “My office. Now.”
The boss’s sanctum was plush—leather scents mingling with jasmine perfume. Victoria locked the door, dimming lights to a sultry glow. “Kneel.”
Lisa dropped, knees aching anew. Victoria circled, heels clicking, shedding blouse to reveal pierced nipples on pert C-cups. “You’ve been teasing me too, minx. Time to service the queen.”
She gripped Lisa’s hair, grinding her face into damp lace panties. The taste exploded—musky, tangy arousal soaking through. Lisa’s tongue darted out instinctively, lapping the steamy folds hidden beneath. Victoria moaned, shredding the fabric aside, exposing a smooth, pierced clit.
“Suck it like your life depends,” she hissed. Lisa did—lips sealing around the nub, tongue flicking frantically. Victoria bucked, thighs clamping her head, flooding her mouth with slick nectar. Fingers invaded Lisa’s hair-matted pussy, three plunging deep, curling against her G-spot.
They tumbled to the carpet, a tangle of limbs. Victoria straddled her face, riding hard while scissoring their clits together—wet friction sparking electric jolts. “Your husband’s cock never makes you gush like this,” she taunted between gasps.
Lisa’s body betrayed her, hips grinding up, chasing the humiliating peak. Orgasms crashed in tandem, Victoria squirting across her belly. 💋
But mercy? None. Victoria fetched a strap-on from her drawer—ribbed black monster, glistening with lube. Bent over the desk, Lisa screamed as it speared her ass, the girth splitting her anew. Victoria fucked with clinical precision, spanking reddened cheeks, whispering degradations.
“Feel that burn? That’s your old life dying. You’re ours now.”
Exhausted, spent, Lisa collapsed as Victoria withdrew, cum and juices mixing in rivulets. “Invoices by five. And smile for the team.”
Chapter 4: Cubicle Carnival
Word spread like digital fire. By mid-afternoon, Lisa’s cubicle became grand central. She perched naked on her swivel chair, legs splayed over armrests, pounding keys one-handed while a junior rep face-fucked her from the side.
The office thrummed—phones ringing ignored, photocopier whirring covers for peeps. Donna, the gossipy receptionist with bleach-blonde spikes, sauntered over first. “My turn, bitch.”
She straddled Lisa’s lap, grinding shaved mound against thigh, pinching nipples till milk-white beads formed. “Lick my ass,” Donna demanded, pivoting. Lisa tongued the tangy pucker, rimming deep as Donna masturbated furiously, squirting on her tits.
Men piled on: conference calls forgotten as cocks plunged her mouth, pussy, even between pressed-together breasts. A double-anal from twins—identical geeks with surprising stamina—left her howling, guts churning with seed.
Steamy breath fogged the partition as a supervisor bent her over the desk, rutting slow and deep. “Tight even after the garage? Fuck, you’re built for this.”
Her mind fractured—guilt for Tom flashing, drowned by relentless pleasure. Sensory storm: keyboard clacks under palms slick with spit, coffee bitterness cut by semen aftertaste, skin flushed fever-hot.
One innovative prick—a sales drone—taped her wrists to chair arms, vibrating phone strapped to clit while he hammered her throat. Orgasms wracked her endlessly, piss dribbling from overstimulation as he laughed.
By four, she was a glazed wreck: makeup rivers down cheeks, holes gaping, body reeking of group sex funk. Yet invoices done, printed neat.
Victoria announced over intercom: “Lisa’s open for business, folks. Disruptive? Dock your pay.”
Laughter roared. Lisa’s phone lit up—Tom calling. She froze, heart slamming.
Chapter 5: Triple Threat Takedown
Ignoring the buzz for now, Lisa staggered to the break room for water, but Brock waited with reinforcements: three top installers, fresh from jobs, coveralls filthy.
“Group huddle,” he growled. They dragged her to the table, clearing chips and mugs. On her back, ankles hooked over edges, they stripped—cocks springing free: Brock’s girthy beer-can, Vance’s curved upward hook, Lyle’s veiny longboy.
“Rotate,” Brock ordered. He claimed pussy first, slamming home with a wet schlop, stretching her cum-slick channel. Vance fed her throat, balls on chin, while Lyle sucked her toes, tongue swirling unpainted nails.
The table creaked rhythmically, her body a vessel for their frenzy. Brock’s thrusts churned froth from prior loads, scent pungent. Switched: Vance anally invading, the curve hitting spots that bowed her spine. Lyle’s length down throat bulged visibly.
“Fuck her like she owes us overtime,” Vance grunted. They did—triple penetration attempt: Brock pussy, Vance ass, Lyle mouth. Overfilled, Lisa convulsed in ecstasy-agony, muffled screams vibrating Lyle’s shaft.
Cum erupted in waves: hot jets painting insides, overflowing to puddle beneath. Steamy haze of sweat enveloped them, breaths ragged, skin slapping symphony.
Collapsed, trembling, Lisa tasted copper from bitten lip. Guilt surged—Tom’s face in mind—but body hummed with afterglow, nipples diamond-hard.
They left her there, leaking profusely, a broken doll amid snack crumbs.
Chapter 6: Echoes of Ecstasy and Dread
Five-thirty. Office emptying. Lisa dressed shakily—clothes crusty, body aching deliciously. Every step squished cum audibly, bra chafing tender breasts. Victoria tossed her a wet wipe packet. “Shower in the locker room. Clock out clean-ish.”
The tiny stall steamed up fast, hot water scalding bruises, soap foaming over welts. She scrubbed furiously, fingers delving into ravaged holes, chasing remnants. Touch reignited sparks—clit throbbed under jets, a furtive rub sending shudders. Why? The steamy shame twisted into dark craving.
Toweling off, mirror fogged, she traced new marks: hickeys laddering neck, ass cheeks handprinted purple. Wedding rings mocked her, sparkling innocently.
Homebound train rattled her bones. Tom texted: *Late night? Pick up Thai? Love you.* Tears pricked. Their modest suburb condo loomed, porch light welcoming.
He greeted with a kiss—gentle, oblivious. “Rough day, babe? You smell… different.”
“Perfume test at work,” she lied, stomach knotted. Dinner devoured, they tumbled to bed. Tom, sensing her tension, went down eagerly—tongue on her still-swollen folds.
Guilt crashed as pleasure bloomed. She rode his face, grinding to a silent climax, cum from strangers mixing with his saliva. Mounting him reverse, she impaled on his familiar length—average, loving—not the monsters today.
“Fuck me harder,” she begged, chasing the void. He did, pounding till he spilled. Cuddling after, his arm heavy, she stared at ceiling. What now? The thrill lingered, a steamy addiction blooming amid terror.
Tomorrow loomed. TechLink awaited—holes hungry, secrets heavier. Lisa drifted to sleep, body sated, soul fractured. 💋🔥
