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The howling. The fits. The liquid bellows and belch-barked demands of prepubescent tyranny that held the countless lives on the razor's edge of a horny whim - and, more importantly, the lives of those unfortunate to have found her barfing in celebratory overindulgence.\n\nShe squeals. She writhes. No part of her is silent or serene, kicking her legs and spewing from all orifices, throat caught between snarls and chunky hiccups of wine-slogged puke. Nothing was good enough for her - nothing ever would be, no matter how sharply that \"complete dumbass\" Charlie bashed his nose into the dangerously sensitive nerve endings of her monstrous clit. Puke wasn't even good enough for him; even now, dripping and drooling, she reminded him of that, hammering it into his subconscious - and threatening him with the safety of his loved ones if his exhaustion settled in. It wasn't her fault if he couldn't keep up!\n\nAlbert, then, was the luckier of the two. Forced to serve; forced to obey, but all too familiar with their young president's whims and demands. It may have been entirely his own personal fleshlight that he'd procured and slammed up his coworker's asshole, but according to reports by the executive custodian, nobody could it apart from the twelve other fleshlights that had been gathered from the disgusting orgy that had followed. Albert himself refused to talk; if not lucky, then perhaps Albert was far more wise. Even then he'd refused to say much, turning his head away; thrusting; blowing load after load up the gurgling dog's fat well-aged asshole, trying to avoid her wrath; trying so, so very hard [i]not to admit how much he enjoyed this.[/i]\n\nHis performance alone, then, might've spurred her on. No sooner had they been dismissed and Charlie wheeled away on a stretcher in a moaning haze of vomit and sperm did she catch sight of Albert's erection; admiring it; pondering; feeling new emotions and urges in her warped young body. He's still erect; still wanting. Perhaps she would reward him, but not with her own; no, no, absolutely not. He's much too old; much too wasted upon the likes of her. Who, then...? Who would be her heir? Filling up another glass of wine, [url=https://inkbunny.net/s/915592]Molly calls a meeting with those immediately under her position.[/url] This would require some discussion - and a few dozen cigars.\n\n\nArt by Anonymous.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "It would seem, then, that the long night had passed on through the morning - and, if some reports are to be believed, for the next forty-eight hours.

Some could hear it from the lower floors. The howling. The fits. The liquid bellows and belch-barked demands of prepubescent tyranny that held the countless lives on the razor's edge of a horny whim - and, more importantly, the lives of those unfortunate to have found her barfing in celebratory overindulgence.

She squeals. She writhes. No part of her is silent or serene, kicking her legs and spewing from all orifices, throat caught between snarls and chunky hiccups of wine-slogged puke. Nothing was good enough for her - nothing ever would be, no matter how sharply that "complete dumbass" Charlie bashed his nose into the dangerously sensitive nerve endings of her monstrous clit. Puke wasn't even good enough for him; even now, dripping and drooling, she reminded him of that, hammering it into his subconscious - and threatening him with the safety of his loved ones if his exhaustion settled in. It wasn't her fault if he couldn't keep up!

Albert, then, was the luckier of the two. Forced to serve; forced to obey, but all too familiar with their young president's whims and demands. It may have been entirely his own personal fleshlight that he'd procured and slammed up his coworker's asshole, but according to reports by the executive custodian, nobody could it apart from the twelve other fleshlights that had been gathered from the disgusting orgy that had followed. Albert himself refused to talk; if not lucky, then perhaps Albert was far more wise. Even then he'd refused to say much, turning his head away; thrusting; blowing load after load up the gurgling dog's fat well-aged asshole, trying to avoid her wrath; trying so, so very hard not to admit how much he enjoyed this.

His performance alone, then, might've spurred her on. No sooner had they been dismissed and Charlie wheeled away on a stretcher in a moaning haze of vomit and sperm did she catch sight of Albert's erection; admiring it; pondering; feeling new emotions and urges in her warped young body. He's still erect; still wanting. Perhaps she would reward him, but not with her own; no, no, absolutely not. He's much too old; much too wasted upon the likes of her. Who, then...? Who would be her heir? Filling up another glass of wine, Molly calls a meeting with those immediately under her position. This would require some discussion - and a few dozen cigars.


Art by Anonymous.", "writing": "", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Business Molly 3.5: Office Abuse (Art by Anonymous)", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/png", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" }, { "content_tag_id": "5", "name": "Strong Violence", "description": "Strong violence, blood, serious injury or death", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "1", "type_name": "Picture/Pinup", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "2351" }