Christmas Party Toy by binarybear

Christmas Party Toy by binarybear

The envelope was cream, heavy and with a handwritten address in a thick ink pen. The letter inside was on matching paper, short and to the point.

“You shall be providing the entertainment for my staff who got promoted, at the Christmas party. Present yourself at the office, 19:30 on the 20th. Dress to blend in, and get fucked. If anybody asks, you’re the new FT expert”

It was only a week away, your heart fluttered and your cunt clenched, so little time to get organised.

Finally the night of the 20th arrived. The taxi drops you outside a generic modern office building and the lift takes you up to the 5th floor. You’re wearing a dark red velvet bodice top, technically not the lingerie department, but under the dark jacket it doesn’t look like it. It does however make your tits look great, your not so subtle cleavage framed by the jacket. Under the modest black shirt you’ve stockings and a suspender belt and a pair of knickers to match the bodice. A pair of sensible, if high, heels shape your legs and make your arse look fabulous. Your hair is pulled back into a pony tail, all the better to be used as a fuck handle. Other than an admiring glance, nobody would look twice in most office parties and certainly nobody would think there was a trashy metal buttplug complete with red crystal tip jammed rudely in your arsehole.

The doors open on a busy room, normally an open plan area with low sofas, nooks for working in and the usual modern office nonsense. Tonight however, the lights are low, there’s classical music playing and a lot of well dressed people mingling and talking as wait staff circulate with trays of drinks. People are cleared dressed up a little from their regular office wear, a sea of broad chests in suits, neat skirts and heels, even the odd seamed stocking to catch your eye. You take a glass from a passing waiting and slip into the crowd, not sure what to do next. There’s no sign of your Master anywhere.

For an hour you slide from small group to small group, making polite small talk, explaining you’re the new FT specialist, and hoping against hope nobody asks you what it means, or worse, already knows and wants to talk about it. Still no sign of your Master.

Eventually an arm slips round your wait and a women’s voice whispers in your ear “I hear you’re the entertainment?”

You nod very slightly, not daring to look at her, or give away that you’re heart is racing.

“Come with me then, you’re going to be busy. Just leave this lot to their dull conversations.”

She steers you through the crowd, an arm still round your waist, you still not daring to look round at her. She’s taller than you, slim, and you can hear her heels clacking on the floor as you move from the crowd, though a door and into a short corridor, staying in the dim light.

“Off with the jacket and the shirt Slut, you’ll not need those!”

Suddenly her tone has changed, no longer the gentle, soft tones that got your through the crowd. You can’t help yourself as unbutton your jacket and shimmy out of the shirt, turning and handing them both to her. She’s taller than you expected, slim with dark bobbed hair and a black dress clinging to her figure. She looks down on you as she takes the clothes, clearly enjoying your submission.

With her hand on your back she marches you down the corridor, fast enough you have to scamper to stay ahead, arse wigging and suddenly so obviously plugged, though the door and into a small office or meeting room. You’re pushed forward, and hear the door close and lock behind you before your eyes get a chance to adjust to the dim room. There are maybe ten people stand in a circle around you, mostly men, a couple of women. Some have their shirts off, most has visable bulges at their crotch, and one or two even have their cocks out, stroking rapidly growing erections. A firm pair of hands on your shoulder pushes you down to your knees, on the sofa cushions placed there, and the circle crowds in.

A cock is pressed into your mouth and a hand grabs you ponytail, using it to fuck you face. Your hands find other cocks to stroke and soon enough you’re being manhandled from person to person. You see one of the women wanking the guy next to her whilst rubbing her tits with the other hand. At one point she steps up and your head it thrust under her summery skirt, her pussy rubbing against you and you’re held there as you lick and suck on her.

Hands find your knickers and slip into your dripping cunt, roughly fingering you. Another finds you plug and you hear laughter, as it is fucked back and forth in you, never quite being pulled out, often being forced in deeper. Eventually you’re picked up and throw, end up on a sofa, being fucked front and back by a succession of cocks of all sizes. Then you’re pulled around, on your back with a blond sitting on your face, eating her pussy as the other women manages to get her slim fist into you, feeling yourself squirm and cum as you look up as the lady riding your face.

Eventually most people drift off, and the lady who brought you into the room approaches. She’s standing with your Master, hand in hand, looking down at you sweaty, stretched, naked body, collapsed onto the sofa, exhausted from all the attention your got and given over the last hour or more, a look of smugness and contentment on their faces. He’s stroking his cock, and it’s only then you notice she’s not wearing a very long, very thin jelly strap-on dildo.

“Time to say thank you for all we’ve done for you Slut,” your Master says, stepping over to you, sitting on the sofa and wrangling you onto his lap, his dick sliding easily into your pussy. Pinning your hands behind your back he pulls you forward and you feel the tip of the massive strap-on pressing against your arse.

“I think everybody enjoyed their promotion treat, don’t you? Shame somebody didn’t stick around to keep your mouth stuffed.” you hear the women say, as the dildo is inches into you.

Her hand clamps over your mouth, a finger pushing into it which you start to suck on.. She starts to saw away, rocking her hips as the dilso goes in and out, deep each time, filling you as they find their rhythm and you’re jammed between them, tits pressing into your masters chest, gasping for breath when she lets you breath.

“You never did find our what a FT specialist is did you Toy?” Your Master asks, smirking and almost laughing. “Why don’t you tell her?”

And on her forward stroke, dildo crammed halfway to your stomach, as full as you can imagine being, the lady whispers in your ear, “Fuck Toy, you’re a specialist Fuck Toy”.