Gain Access to Member Area

Signup for the free Bronze membership (it takes 20 seconds), which gives you access to not only the full 15,000+ story library, but also the exclusive member area with lots of cool features like: Voting on stories, Bookmarking stories, searching for stories, reccommended stories, member forums, profiles and much more!.

Click here to create your free account



Story Info

Posting Date 2009-08-30 19:21:46
Author riotpriest
Title Payday loan
Category slept with my boss/teacher/colleque
Where it happend My office
Age then 26
Age now 39
Gender MALE
Viewed 80
Story Length 1658

(12 votes / 68 points)

Rate this story











Bookmark this story! View Authors Profile!
Send comments to Author. View Authors BookMarks
Report this story to the admin!

Back to latest search results

Payday loan


“Come around here,” I said to Keesa as I removed several bundles of cash from my briefcase, dropping it on the desk.

My business was buying legal, used as well as stolen construction, farm, and road-building equipment which I then sold out of the country. Keesa, my assistant was a part-time student and she had been with me from the day I opened my office. Still, she was nervous and with good reason; she had never seen me truly angry as I was that predawn morning in San Antonio, Texas.

“I’m not asking for more money…”

“You will not speak unless I ask you a question. Understood?”

Without another word, Keesa walked around my desk to stand by my chair. She looked as tired as when she had met me at the entrance to our little office building, but she was wide awake now.

I had originally hired the nineteen year old based on her telephone voice and the fact that she was bilingual. The majority of my clients were Mexican, central or South American; so Spanish was a necessity. I had not expected her to be stunningly beautiful. In fact, in my experience, women with sexy, seductive voices were usually somewhere around 300 pounds and had a mustache.

Keesa was the exception to the rule. She was café latte-toned, tall, and fought constantly to hide her shapely body in dumpy clothes. Her densely curly hair was long and dusty-blond; her eyes were hazel, common to many white/black, biracial kids. The designer eye-glasses she wore only added to her crazy-exotic sexiness.

I rose from my chair and turned away from her to open my safe. The door was behind a file cabinet on a hinge. With my back to her, I said, “take off your jacket.”

In the reflection of small mirror, I could see her do so without a moment’s hesitation. She seemed to think she was resigned to what would come next. Good, I thought. Slowly I thumbed each stack of cash and placed it in the safe, ignoring Keesa.

“How deep in this mess are you?” I asked, placing my automatic on top of the file cabinet. I still had a snub-nosed revolver in the pocket of my suit-coat.

A cop I paid off told me Keesa’s boyfriend, Bernard had been arrested on possession of a kilo of cocaine. The idiot was cooking it up in his cousin’s kitchen and bagging up the rocks for street-sale. He also had federal-firearms charge on top of the dope; all three blocks from a school. My friend with the local cops said it was open and shut and Bern was going away for a long time.

I was certain Keesa was here to beg for more money but robbery was a possibility too. She was the only one who knew I came into the office so early and the only one who knew I made delivery on a combine and grain wagon the night before. Thank God she didn’t know where I lived.

“I asked you a question.”

“I lost my lease, I owe my parents $5000.00, and I lost my partial scholarship,” Keesa said, looking down at her navy-blue flats. “I’m staying with a friend from high school and she is worried she will lose her lease because she’s not supposed to have anyone else living there.”

“So you’re not asking for another loan for another ‘abortion,’ that you’re not having?” I said as sternly as I could.

“No,” Keesa said, tears running down her face but without the sobbing theatrics of her last performance.

Last time she had shown up at the office door at five in the morning, she had been dressed to distract. She had worn denim shorts, a T-shirt, and no bra. Her D-cup tits had swayed with every movement and her nipples had strained against the thin material.

She had cried and sobbed, claiming Bern had left her, she was pregnant, and needed money for an abortion. I gave her $1000.00 and told her to repay me when she could. Keesa had hugged me, pressing her amazing tits against me before leaving. That was three, almost four months ago and we had not spoken of it. But I jacked-off many nights thinking about her fine thighs and heavy tits.

“I just wanted to tell you the truth and keep my job,” Keesa said. “I have to keep my job.”

“Because you really are pregnant, aren’t you? That’s why your clothes don’t fit you anymore?”

“Yes and…” Keesa said, again looking at her sensible shoes.

“And Bern’s gonna be gone,” I completed, “probably for twenty or thirty years.”

“I’ve got to keep this job to support my baby. No body else pays like you do.”

“And no one else will help you because everyone else is done with Bern and you,” I said. “No apologies for lying to me?”

“You’re not the type for apologies, I know that,” Keesa said, then she looked up and staring me in the eye. “I’ll do anything, Mr. G.”

We had never broached professional conversation but she obviously took my concise, German demeanor for stupidity or thought me prone to weakness. She made a gesture that I’m sure was supposed to be seductive as she began to sit in my chair.

“Did I say you could sit?”

Flushed anew, Keesa jerked straight up.

“You cannot work for me dressed like that,” I said, removing my jacket and hanging it on the corner of my chair. “If I am to take you seriously, you must dress the part.”

“After you get an apartment, you will go here,” I took a business card from my wallet and placed it on top of a $3000.00 stack I had left on the desk. “Ask for Tracie, she is a buyer for the department store. She will help you and you will buy skirts and tops and heels. As you get larger, you will buy more. You will do what I say, when I say, and how I say or I will fire you. Understand?”

“How will I repay you?”

“Painfully,” I said watching her eyes. I saw just a moment of dread. Her nipples protruded despite her bra and blouse. “Unbuckle and drop your trousers.”

Keesa did as I said with slightly shaking hands. Her pants dropped to her ankles.

“Bend over the desk.”

Her shapely and prominent ass was in the air. Her skin was all goose-flesh and her knees visibly trembled. I walked up behind her and caressed her ass through cotton panties that women love and men hate. As her breath steadied with my caresses, I sat down in the leather chair. Then I drew back and slapped her right ass-cheek hard. The crack of skin on skin roared in the quiet office.

Keesa made a sharp intake of breath but she said nothing. Then I repeated with her left ass-cheek. Again the same so I alternated, caressing and slapping her incredible ass until I noticed she was moaning and there was a wet-spot in the crouch of her panties. Angry red welts had spread from under the cotton of her panties.

She had spread her legs wide and her ass was inches from my face. Her sex hung on the air like musky perfume. I softly touch the wet spot, through the material, scarcely stroking her hard nub of a clit. Keesa cried out, her knees gave away, and she collapsed in my lap, racked by orgasm.

“Take the cash, buy the clothes, then you can get another place to stay,” I said after her tremors subsided.

“Yes,” she said.

“I don’t want to see you in these cheap panties again,” I said. “I like boutique undergarments for as long as your ass will fit into them. When you’re too fat to wear them, you’ll wear nothing. Understood?”

“Yes,” she said again, her voice full and throaty. “Is there anything else?”

“As long as you work for me, keep yourself shaved, and clean,” I said, standing up, unzipping my trousers, and allowing her to rest in my chair. “Now, jerk on this.”

Keesa took my cock in her hand, spat on it and her palm before beginning to stroke it. She looked up at me and made to take it in her mouth.

“I didn’t tell you to suck it,” I said. “Just jerk on it.”

“Yes sir,” Keesa said pumping it back and forth. “Do you want to cum on my face?”

“No, on your thighs,” I replied, squeezing her incredible tits through the thin material of her cheap blouse and the thicker material of her bra. I groped and grabbed on Keesa’s tits, harder and harder before jerking her blouse up and pulling her left tit free of the bra.

After an eternity of Keesa jerking and pumping, I felt the heat rising in my balls and my cock burned.

“Stand up,” I said.

Keesa frantically tried to stand but not fast enough. I sprayed her neck, tits, and finally her hips. I back her to the desk and pushed my cock between her pressed-tight, creamy thighs, pumping my hard-on away.

When I stood back, I watched cum drip from her neck and tits to her belly and thighs, rolling down to her knees.

“Pull up your pants, pull down your blouse, and get to work,” I said.

“Can I go wash…”

“No, you can’t.” I cut her off.

If Keesa was appalled or disgusted to work the rest of the day with cum all over her, she had the good sense to keep it to her self. I smiled to myself; this was just the beginning.


Gain Access to Member Area

Signup for the free Bronze membership (it takes 20 seconds), which gives you access to not only the full 15,000+ story library, but also the exclusive member area with lots of cool features like: Voting on stories, Bookmarking stories, searching for stories, reccommended stories, member forums, profiles and much more!.

Click here to create your free account