Business Affairs

Receptionist Kat Dior dodged her coworker Kira Noir for the third time that morning, the same girl she fucked raw over the weekend. Kira cornered her near the supply closet, whispering filthy reminders in her ear—how Kat had moaned when Kira buried her tongue in her cunt, how she came twice in five minutes. Kat shook her head, played dumb, pretended she couldn’t recall a thing. Kira wasn’t having it. She dropped to her knees right there on the carpet, yanking Kat’s panties aside, spreading her open with two fingers. Kat grabbed the doorframe, hips bucking forward as Kira licked a hot stripe up her slit. The wet sounds filled the narrow hallway. Then the door opened. India Summer stood in the doorway, cool and composed, arms crossed. She watched them for a long moment. “Don’t stop,” she said. “But you’ll do it under my supervision.” Kat froze, but Kira kept licking. India stepped closer, eyes fixed on Kira’s tongue sliding between Kat’s folds, watching the way Kat’s thighs trembled. She undid the top button of her blouse, letting her bra peek through. Her breath stayed steady, but her nipples tightened beneath the lace. After a minute India moved in, crouched beside Kira, and slid two fingers into Kat’s dripping pussy. Kat whimpered. India smiled, small and sharp. “Very good,” she murmured. “Let’s make sure neither of you forget this time.”