male!reader and Bruce lowkey being rivals, but then somehow R ends up being tied up and blindfolded in lace ribbons for valentine day, heâs so pretty, and such a brat about it, and gifted to bruce or whoever you feel fit??
bruce wayne x m!reader x two WE employees
đđđđđđđđ ! ââ 8.7k words. you and bruce are business rivals. after a gala you get kidnapped and then end up being tied and gagged in ribbons for valentines day.
ę° warnings. kidnapping + implied drugging. dub/non-con. overstimulation + subspace, slight hair pulling, breeding/belly bulge, bondage, dick biting, masturbation, voyeurism, foursome(?), oral (m. receiving), creampie, ass eating, use of âslutâ at the end. literally being used like a fucktoy. ęą
The gala is supposed to be about charity.
Crystal glasses, quiet piano music, Gothamâs wealthiest pretending to care about funding city infrastructure.
Cameras flash occasionally, polite applause echoing through the marble ballroom. Itâs all very elegant.
You stand near the balcony doors with a drink you havenât touched, watching the crowd the way a strategist studies a battlefield.
Across the room, Bruce Wayne is doing the exact same thing.
Heâs surrounded by investors and board members, black tux perfectly tailored, expression relaxed in that effortless billionaire way. Anyone else would assume heâs half-listening to the conversation.
Because the moment his gaze slides across the room and lands on you, his mouth lifts slightly. Not friendly. Not quite hostile either. Just⌠challenging.
Wayne Enterprises never misses an opportunity to shove itself into a deal first. And tonightâs fundraiser happens to be crawling with the same venture capitalists your company has been negotiating with for months. Which means Bruce is competition. Again.
You take a slow sip of your drink, meeting his gaze across the ballroom. He raises his glass a fraction. A silent acknowledgment.
You push away from the balcony doors and walk straight through the crowd.
People notice. Conversations falter slightly as you pass. A few investors glance between you and Bruce.
By the time you reach the center of Bruceâs circle, the conversation around him is already wrapping up. ââalways a pleasure, Mr. Wayne,â one of the older board members says.
Bruce shakes his hand easily. âLikewise.â
Then the group disperses, leaving just the two of you standing there. For a moment, neither of you speak.
You tilt your glass slightly. âWayne.â
His eyes flick down to your drink, then back to your face. âDidnât expect to see you here,â he replies smoothly.
You huff a quiet laugh. âThatâs funny. I was about to say the same thing.â
Bruce studies you in that calm, irritatingly composed way he has. Like heâs already three moves ahead in a game you havenât realized started. âYour company isnât usually involved in municipal projects,â he says.
âYouâve been paying attention.â
âI pay attention to competitors.â
âCompetitors,â you repeat. âIs that what we are tonight?â
Bruceâs eyebrow lifts. âYou tell me.â
The piano music shifts to something slower.
Somewhere behind you, someone laughs loudly. The crowd moves, champagne glasses clinking, the quiet hum of wealth and influence continuing like background noise. But the space between you and Bruce feels oddly focused. Like the rest of the room faded out.
You lean one shoulder against a nearby column. âLet me guess,â you say casually. âWayne Enterprises suddenly cares very deeply about urban redevelopment.â
Bruce takes a sip of his drink. âLet me guess,â he echoes. âYouâre here to outbid me.â
You shrug. âIf the opportunity presents itself.â
His gaze sharpens slightly.
That flicker of competitiveness.
âYou realize Wayne Enterprises has been negotiating with the city council for months,â he says.
âAnd you realize contracts arenât finalized yet,â you reply.
Then Bruce exhales a soft breath through his nose. Almost amused. âYouâre persistent,â he says.
You tilt your head. âPersistence wins deals.â
He looks at you for a long moment, evaluating you.
Your competitive relationship has existed for years nowâboardroom meetings, acquisition bids, technology patents. Every time one of you pushes forward, the other shows up immediately after.
Youâre both very good at what you do. And unfortunately, youâre both very stubborn.
Bruce sets his glass down on a passing tray. âYou know,â he says casually, âmost executives would avoid directly competing with Wayne Enterprises.â
âMost executives arenât me.â
âThat much is obvious.â
You grin. âGetting nervous?â
âNervous?â he repeats. Then he steps closer, not enough to be inappropriate. Just enough that the distance between you shrinks to something more personal than professional. His voice drops slightly.
âYouâre confident,â he says.
You hold his gaze. âIâm capable.â
Bruceâs eyes flick briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes. âIf I remember correctly,â he says slowly, âthe last time we competed over a contractâŚâ
You cross your arms. âYou lost.â
His mouth curves. âI let you win.â
You laugh outright. âOh, thatâs cute.â
Bruceâs smile widens slightly. âYou donât believe me.â
âNo.â You step closer now, closing the remaining gap yourself. âIf you âlet me win,â Wayne,â you murmur, âthen why did your board spend the next two weeks trying to buy my company out?â
Bruce doesnât answer immediately. Instead, his gaze drops again, taking you in like heâs reassessing something.
It should annoy you. Instead, it sends a strange flicker of warmth up your spine.
Then he says quietly, âBecause I like knowing what my competitors are capable of.â
Your heartbeat picks up slightly. You cover it with a smirk. âFlattered.â
âIâm not finished.â
Bruce leans just a fraction closer. âYouâre smart,â he continues. âStrategic. Aggressive in negotiations.â His voice is still calm. âBut youâre also reckless.â
You scoff softly. âReckless?â
âYou enjoy the competition more than the outcome.â
You stare at him. âThatâs not reckless,â you say. âItâs confidence. Like you said.â
He tilts his head. âIs it?â
Your jaw tightens slightly. âUgh. Youâre one to talk,â you reply. âYouâre standing here at a charity gala analyzing your biggest business rival instead of networking.â
He doesnât deny it. In fact, he looks faintly amused. âMaybe I find this conversation more interesting.â
You narrow your eyes. âYouâre distracting me.â
Bruceâs expression turns entirely innocent. âAm I?â
âThen itâs working.â
You let out a slow breath through your nose. God, heâs insufferable.
You glance toward the investors across the room. Then back at him. âYouâre not getting the contract,â you say.
Bruce shrugs lightly. âMaybe.â
Your eyes narrow. âMaybe?â
That throws you off. Bruce notices instantly. He leans slightly closer, voice quiet enough that only you hear it. âOr maybe weâll keep competing,â he says.
âAnd Iâll keep seeing you at events like this.â
You hate that your brain immediately notices how close he is now. How his voice dropped. How his gaze hasnât left your face once.
You clear your throat. âThat sounds exhausting.â
Bruceâs mouth tilts into a slow, knowing smile. âDoes it?â
The tension sitting between you now isnât just business rivalry anymore. Itâsâ
Someone suddenly calls Bruceâs name from across the room.
He glances briefly over your shoulder. When he looks back at you, the faintest hint of reluctance crosses his face. âLooks like my attention is required.â
You step back slightly. âGo network.â
Bruce picks up his drink again. But before he turns away, he says quietly, âDonât get too comfortable thinking youâve won tonight.â
You smirk. âDonât get too comfortable thinking youâll catch up.â
Bruce studies you one last time. Then he chuckles under his breath. âYouâre impossible.â
âYet you keep talking to me.â
His eyes flicker with something unreadable. âFunny how that works.â
Then he turns and disappears back into the crowd. Leaving you standing there with your untouched drink and a strange, lingering feeling in your chest. You stare after him and mutter quietly to yourself, âInsufferable billionaire.â
             ༶â˘ââŕ¨ŕ§âââ˘ŕźś
The gala ends slowly. Not with a single moment, but with the gradual unwinding of a performance.
The orchestra stops first. The music fades into soft background speakers. Conversations thin out as Gothamâs wealthy donors begin collecting coats and exchanging the same polite, rehearsed goodbyes.
You stay longer than most. Partially because leaving at the same time as everyone else means fighting through the valet line. Partially because you prefer quiet exits. Mostly because youâre thinking. About contracts. About negotiations. About a certain billionaire.
You stand near the edge of the ballroom now, jacket slung over one arm, watching the remaining guests trickle toward the doors. Your mind replays the conversation.
âYou enjoy the competition more than the outcome.â
You scoff quietly to yourself. Heâs wrong. Mostly.
A server walks past with a tray of abandoned champagne glasses. The glittering ballroom that was packed with people an hour ago now feels cavernous and empty. A few staff members move around quietly, clearing tables and folding linens.
You check your watch. Late.
You slip your jacket on and head toward the exit.
The cool Gotham night air hits the moment you step outside the grand doors. The parking lot is half empty now. Valet attendants move lazily between the remaining cars, bringing them up one by one for the last guests lingering near the front.
You prefer parking yourself. Less waiting. Less small talk.
Your shoes echo faintly on the pavement as you walk toward the far end of the lot where your car sits under a tall streetlight.
The night is quiet. A little too quiet.
The faint hum of the city carries in the distanceâsirens somewhere far off, the occasional car passing on the main road beyond the event center.
You reach your car and pull your keys from your pocket. The metal glints under the light. Your mind is already moving aheadâemails youâll need to send tomorrow, numbers you want your finance team to review before the city council meeting next week.
Wayne Enterprises may think theyâre ahead. But they arenât the only ones preparing.
You unlock the car. The soft click echoes slightly in the empty lot. You reach for the handleâ
And suddenly a hand grabs your arm.
Your reaction is immediate. You twist sharply, instinct kicking in as you try to wrench yourself freeâ
But another arm wraps around your chest from behind.
A cloth slams over your mouth. Your words cut off instantly.
The chemical smell hits your nose a second later.
You jerk violently, trying to rip the cloth away, but the arm around your chest tightens like iron. Your elbow slams backward into something solid. A grunt sounds behind you. But the grip doesnât loosen.
âHold him still.â The voice is low. Rough. Not someone you recognize.
Your vision swims slightly. You try holding your breath, instinctively turning your head away from the cloth, but the hand covering your mouth presses harder.
You struggle harder, twisting, kicking backward, trying to break the hold. Another pair of hands grabs your wrist. âStop moving!â
The chemical smell floods your senses. Your limbs suddenly feel⌠heavy. Too heavy. Your movements slow despite your efforts. Your heartbeat pounds violently in your ears.
Your vision blurs at the edges. The streetlight above you splits into two. Then three. You try to focus on somethingâanythingâto stay conscious.
The rough asphalt under your shoes.
The car door still half-open beside you.
The sound of someone breathing behind your ear.
Your thoughts begin slipping. Your fingers feel numb. The strength drains out of your arms like someone pulled a plug. Your knees buckle slightly. âThatâs it,â the rough voice murmurs.
You try to curse at them. Try to say something. But the words donât form. Your head drops forward as the world tilts sideways. Your last clear thought flashes through your mind like a bitter joke.
Bruce is going to think I skipped town before the deal.
Darkness creeps in from the corners of your vision. Your hearing dulls. The arm holding you up shifts slightly as your weight goes slack.
Your body barely responds anymore. The cloth disappears from your face, but it doesnât matter. Your eyes wonât focus. The parking lot lights smear into hazy streaks.
Someone grabs your shoulders. âGet the door.â
A car door opens somewhere close. Not yours.
Your head lolls slightly as youâre lifted. Your shoes scrape briefly against the pavement before leaving the ground. The night air brushes your face for one last second. Then youâre shoved into the backseat of a vehicle. Your arm falls limply across your stomach. Your vision flickers weakly. Shapes move above you. A silhouette leaning over. Someone checking your pulse.
âGood,â the voice mutters.
The door slams shut. The sound echoes like it came from underwater. The engine starts. Your head rolls slightly with the motion as the car pulls away from the empty parking lot. The streetlights outside the window pass one by one; blurry golden streaks sliding across the glass.
Your eyes try to stay open. They canât.
The last thing you feel before everything goes completely black is the faint sensation of something cold being fastened around your wrist.
Then the darkness finally takes you.
             ༶â˘ââŕ¨ŕ§âââ˘ŕźś
Consciousness comes back slowly.
At first itâs just sensation. A dull, heavy ache in your head. The thick fog of whatever chemical knocked you out still clinging to your thoughts.
Your body feels sluggish, like every movement has to push through thick maple syrup. You try to shift but something tight pulls across your chest.
You blink hard, vision struggling to focus. For a moment your brain canât quite place where you are. Then the details start sliding together. The massive windows along one wall. The sleek black furniture. The skyline of Gotham stretching out far below. And the huge desk beneath you. Youâre lying on it, flat on your back.
Your arms jerk instinctively. Or try to.
Something soft tugs at your wrists. Your breathing quickens immediately. You twist your head, panic starting to claw up your throat.
Your brain stutters. Soft, pale pink lace ribbons loop around your wrists, tied together in neat bows that look almost decorative against your skin. The same ribbons wind down your arms, crossing over your chest like some kind of harness before looping beneath your back.
You try pulling again. The ribbons tighten.
You lift your head slightly and look down. Your ankles are tied too. Same ribbons. Same bows. Neat, deliberate knots holding them together.
Thatâs when you notice something else. Your body feels⌠exposed. Too exposed. You glance down again and your mind blanks.
Your breath stutters behind the gag in your mouth. You hadnât even realized it was there yet. A wide strip of ribbon pulled between your teeth, tied tightly behind your head.
You try to sit up. The ribbons across your chest pull tight, holding your arms pinned close enough to limit movement.
âMmphâ!â The muffled sound comes out automatically as you struggle.
Your eyes dart around the room again. Office. Definitely an office. A large one. And then the realization hits you like a brick. The desk underneath you. The view. The design. Youâve been here before..
Not often. But enough to recognize it.
Bruce Wayneâs personal office.
Your movement shifts slightly and something else pulls. You look down again. Another ribbon.
It loops around your hips and down your thighâ
Binding your cock tightly against the inside of your leg with another neat bow.
Your entire body goes rigid. Your face burns hot with sudden humiliation and confusion.
You squirm again, more urgently now. The ribbons tug and shift slightly but hold. Your wrists flex against the lace, trying to slip free. No luck.
The bows are tight. Carefully tied.
Your chest rises sharply with another breath. Your brain tries to catch up with the situation. You were kidnapped. Drugged. Taken somewhere. And nowâ
Wrapped in nothing but pink ribbons like some kind of cheap porno.
You struggle harder. Your shoulders lift slightly off the desk as you twist again. The ribbons tighten across your skin. They look delicate but they donât budge. This is bad. This is really bad.
Your gaze flicks toward the office doors.
Closed, but that doesnât help much. Someone could walk in at any second. An assistant. A board member. Security. Anyone.
And worseâ What if itâs Bruce that walks in?
The thought sends another spike of anxiety through you. Your gaze drops once more to the ribbons across your body. The pink lace. The bows. The stupidly decorative wrapping.
Your mind flashes to the date.
And the office around you is silent which somehow makes the fear worse. Because it means sooner or laterâ
That door is going to open.
             ༶â˘ââŕ¨ŕ§âââ˘ŕźś
The office stays quiet for what feels like forever.
Your breathing slowly evens out, though your pulse is still hammering in your ears. Every small sound makes your body tenseâthe distant hum of elevators, muffled voices somewhere down the hallway, the faint whir of the buildingâs ventilation.
Each time, your eyes snap to the door.
Your shoulders slump back against the polished surface of the desk with a quiet thud. âMmphâŚâ The sound is frustrated and anxious behind the ribbon gag.
Your eyes flick toward the door again. Maybe whoever did this isnât coming back. Maybe they left you here for some kind of twisted joke. Maybeâ
Your entire body freezes.
You jerk upright slightly, eyes wide as panic slams through your chest.
Heâs mid-conversation with someone behind him, jacket draped over his shoulder, sleeves of his dress shirt rolled slightly as if heâs just returned from another meeting. âAnd Iâll need those reports beforeââ
For a fraction of a second his brain clearly hasnât caught up with what heâs seeing. Because what heâs seeingâ
Spread across his desk. Tied in pink ribbons. Just ribbons. Eyes wide and breathing fast behind a gag.
He immediately steps sideways, blocking the line of sight from the doorway. âActuallyââ he says smoothly, cutting himself off mid-sentence.
His employeeâsome junior executive holding a tabletâleans slightly as if trying to see past him.
Bruce lifts a hand casually. âWhy donât you send the files to my email instead? Weâll go over them later.â
The worker hesitates. âSir?â
Bruce doesnât move from the doorway. His voice stays calm. âGive me a few minutes.â
Thereâs a brief pause, then the employee nods. âOf course, Mr. Wayne.â They turn and walk away down the hallway.
You watch him anxiously as he leans slightly out the door, making sure the hallway is clear. Then he shuts the door, the soft click echoes through the office. Your stomach twists.
Bruce turns around slowly. And finally looks at you.
For a long moment he just⌠stares.
His eyes move over the scene in front of him. The way your wrists are tied together above your stomach. The lace crossing over your chest in that ridiculous harness pattern. The gag in your mouth. The way youâre staring at him like a trapped animal.
Your body shifts slightly as you instinctively try to pull away even though thereâs nowhere to go.
Bruceâs expression is completely unreadable at first. Thenâ His mouth twitches.
Your eyes narrow slightly.
Itâs soft, clearly amused.
The sound sends heat rushing to your face. You immediately start struggling again. âMmh! Mnghhâ!â
Bruce exhales another quiet laugh under his breath. He sets his jacket down slowly over the back of a chair. âI leave the office for a few hoursâŚâ His gaze drifts lazily back to you. âAnd come back to this.â
Your breathing is still quick, eyes locked onto him as if trying to predict what heâll do next.
Bruce takes a few slow steps toward the desk. Each step echoes faintly on the floor. His gaze hasnât left you and the closer he gets, the more that amused expression grows.
When he finally reaches the desk, he stops just beside it. Looking down at you, up close now.
The fear and tension in your face is obvious. Your eyes flick toward the door again. Then back to him. Bruce notices.
âRelax,â he says lightly.
Your muffled noises through the gag sounds very much like I absolutely will not relax.
Bruce huffs a quiet breath through his nose. His gaze drops briefly again, then it lifts back to your face. Something about this sight clearly entertains him far too much.
He shakes his head once, almost disbelieving. âYou know,â he says slowly. Another quiet chuckle escapes him. âIâve imagined a lot of ways our rivalry might escalate.â
Your eyes narrow further.
Bruce tilts his head slightly. âBut thisâŚâ His mouth curves into a full smirk now. âThis is creative.â
Something about your current stateâthe normally sharp-tongued rival executive unable to say a single sarcastic remarkâclearly delights him. His smile widens just a little.
âQuiet,â he murmurs to himself thoughtfully. He leans one hand lightly on the desk beside you. âYou knowâŚâ Your pulse jumps again as he leans slightly closer. âYouâre a lot less argumentative like this.â
You make another muffled sound that is absolutely a complaint.
Bruceâs shoulders shake with another quiet laugh. âDonât worry,â he says. âIâm sure you have plenty to say.â
Your eyes were locked on himânervous, defensive. Bruce recognizes that look immediately.
Heâs seen it across boardroom tables, negotiation meetings, investor calls. Itâs the exact same expression you give him whenever heâs pushing one of your buttons on purpose.
âAh,â he says. âRight.â
His gaze drops to your mouth. Bruce already knows exactly whatâs going to happen the moment that gag comes off. Youâre going to talk. A lot. Probably with at least three insults directed at him within the first five seconds.
Your eyes immediately sharpen with suspicion as his fingers brush lightly against the ribbon at your cheek. You tense. Bruce notices that too. âRelax,â he murmurs.
Then slowlyâvery slowlyâhe begins loosening the knot behind your head. The ribbon slides slightly as the tension releases. Your breathing hitches just a little. Bruce takes his time.
Not because itâs difficult. Because he knows itâll irritate you.
The ribbon finally loosens completely. He gently hooks two fingers beneath the fabric and begins pulling it from your mouth. The strip slides free slowly. Your lips part as it comes out. And for a brief second, a thin strand of saliva stretches between the ribbon and your tongue before finally snapping away.
Your face immediately burns hot with embarrassment. Your brows are drawn together, eyes wide and anxiousâbut also furious as you stare straight at him.
He lifts the ribbon slightly, glancing at it once before setting it casually on the desk beside you. Then his eyes drift back to your face. âWell?â
ââŚThis better be a joke, Wayne.â
Bruceâs smirk widens immediately.
He sets the ribbon down casually on the desk beside you. âI was wondering how long it would take,â he says.
Your wrists tug again instinctively against the bows. Your voice comes out sharper now. âUntie me.â
Bruce doesnât move. Instead he folds his arms lightly, leaning one hip against the edge of the desk beside you. âYou were much quieter a moment ago,â he says.
âIf you donât untie me right nowââ
Bruce raises an eyebrow. âYouâll what?â
Your mouth opens. Then closes. Your current position clearly making any threats somewhat less convincing. Bruce watches the internal struggle with obvious interest. Just like he predicted.
âYou think this is funny?â you snap.
Bruce considers that. Then he glances down again briefly. Another small laugh escapes him. âA little,â he admits.
Your glare could burn holes through steel.
âI was kidnapped,â you say sharply.
âI woke up tied naked to your desk.â
âAnd your response is to laugh?â
Bruce looks at you calmly. âYou have to admit.. the presentation is impressive.â
âThat is not the word I would use,â you mutter angrily. âThey tied this way too tight.â
âThey look secure,â he says.
âStop enjoying this.â
âOh,â he says lightly. âI fully intend to.â
His eyes drift downward again. At first itâs just another glance at the ribbons. But then his gaze pauses. There. Another bow. The biggest of them all. Tied carefully against your inner thigh where the ribbon binds you in place.
Bruceâs eyebrow lifts slightly.
Your stomach drops immediately. Because you know exactly what heâs looking at. The ribbon holding your cock against your leg doesnât hide much. And the position youâre tied in doesnât exactly help; thereâs a small but very noticeable bulge beneath the ribbon.
He tilts his head a little, studying it with quiet interest. ââŚHuh.â
Your eyes snap to his face. âDonât.â
Bruce glances back up at you slowly. He gestures vaguely toward the ribbon. âThat looks likeââ
âI didnât finish the sentence.â
âYou didnât need to.â Your voice comes out fast now, a little too fast. Bruce notices immediately. His smirk grows slightly.
You yank uselessly against the ribbons again, frustration flashing across your face. âItâs justâ Itâs not what you think.â
Bruce folds his arms loosely. âOh? Then what is it?â
âItâs called being embarrassed.â
âYes!â Your eyes were stubbornly locked on his.
Bruce hums thoughtfully. âAnd that causes this?â
âIt can,â you insist immediately. âIâm stressed and uncomfortable. Andââ
Bruce is very clearly trying not to laugh now. You notice; creases by his eyes and the twitch in his lips.
âIf you even say one wordââ
Bruce lifts both hands slightly in mock surrender. âI didnât say anything.â
âYouâre thinking it.â
He smiles giddily. âWell, now I definitely am.â
âAre you going to untie me or just stand there analyzing my body like a science experiment?â
His gaze flicks briefly back down to the large bow again. Which immediately makes you snap. âWayne!â
His eyes return to your face. âYes?â
âStop looking at it.â
He smirks. âI canât help it.â
Bruce taps a finger against the desk, pretending to think. âEventually.â
Your eyes widen slightly. âEventually? Bruce.â
âI enjoy hearing you say my name like that.â He says as he steps back from the desk and slowly circles around to his own side.
He slides into the large leather chair and leans back slightly, letting his gaze wander.
Your body stiffens the moment you realize what heâs doing. Heâs staring. Really staring. Not just casually.
His eyes trace the subtle curves of your waist, the way your ribs dip slightly under the ribbons, the faint tension in your stomach as you try to squirm without success. Then his gaze dips lower. And from this angle thereâs even less covering you.
Your face flushes violently.
The pink lace barely covers the swell of your ass, and the position youâre tied in gives Bruce a clear view of it. You tryâjust instinctivelyâto shift your hips, to turn a little, anything to hide yourself. But you canât.
âWhy are you like this? Stop staring.â
Bruceâs eyes lift back to yours. âIâm simply observing.â
You groan under your breath and try twisting again. It accomplishes absolutely nothing. If anything, the movement just makes things worse. Because the shift pulls the ribbon around your thigh tighter and the erection beneath it becomes even more obvious. You freeze immediately.
âOh my god,â you mutter, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. Your eyebrows knit together in embarrassment.
You know if he ever unties you, this moment is going to be burned into your memory for a long, long time.
âYouâre pretty,â he blurts.
You twist your head slightly, glaring at him as best you can. âIâm not pretty,â you manage to say, voice sharp despite the lingering tremor from embarrassment. âPretty is⌠feminine. Iâm anything but feminine.â
Bruce raises an eyebrow slowly, infuriatingly calm as always. He lets the silence hang just long enough for you to realize how completely heâs savoring this.
âFeminine?â he echoes, a low chuckle escaping him. âI think it fits perfectly.â
You blink at him, offended and flustered at the same time. âIt doesnâtâ what are you talking about?â
âDespite all the rivalry, every time youâve talked circles around anyone who dared compete with youâŚâ He pauses, voice softening. âYouâve always been pretty. Always.â
You sputter, shaking your head fiercely. âIâ No! Thatâs ridiculousâ pretty is forââ
He interrupts you gently but firmly, leaning forward slightly so his eyes lock with yours, smirk teasing. âItâs unfortunate how much of a snappy mouth you have,â he says, voice low, deliberate, amused. âOtherwise, this would be easier to say without getting the tiniest bit distracted.â
You sigh, frustrated beyond words, because no matter how much you argue, heâs already decided.
âPretty, snappy, stubborn⌠utterly uncooperative. But pretty. Very pretty. And you know it,â he adds slowly, âWhich makes it all the more entertaining.â
Without a response, he rises from his chair.
Your eyes widen, and your body goes rigid.
Heâs suddenly touching his belt. Slowly, deliberately, unbuckling it.
âW- What are you doing?â you stammer, words sharp but trembling. Panic and embarrassment making you sound far more pathetic than you intended.
Bruce tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly, gaze flicking to yours. âQuiet,â he says softly, low enough that your heart jumps. âUnless you want someone to walk in.â
You can feel every muscle in your body tense.
He leans over just slightly, voice dropping even lower. âSince you have a big mouth,â he murmurs, almost casually, âand youâre tied up like this⌠I have a better use for you.â
You blink. You feel heat rushing to your face as your eyes lock on him in disbelief and embarrassment. âBruce?!â you squeak, the sound awfully high-pitched.
Bruce doesnât answer immediately.
âYouâre already.. reactive,â he says, teasing. âAnd youâre like this, for me, on Valentineâs Day.â
Your chest rises sharply as your face burns hotter, your body betraying you further despite every desperate, futile struggle. Bruce watches it all, smirk curling knowingly. âI think we both know what this means,â he murmurs softly.
He had maneuvered you onto the floor in front of him, your tied body kneeling in front of him with a submissive expression. It was entirely new to him.
His cock was free from his pantsâlong, thick, and already erectâright in your face.
Your eyes locked on his, anxious and uncertain. That is until he raises an eyebrowâcharming, playfulâbut waiting for you to make the first move.
âIâm going to kill you after this..â Yet you open your mouth, tongue resting on your bottom lip, ready for him. Bruce grabs a handful of hair and pulls your head a few inches closer.
You start to lick on the base of his cock, trailing up to his swollen tip before engulfing it with your lips.
âYouâre already doing great.â He speaks softly, sliding his dick deeper in your mouth.
Your eyes flicker with mild annoyance but you start bobbing your head anyways. âMmhâŚâ You moan, lips stretched around his girth.
Itâs almost too much for you.
He moves his hips at a steady pace, shallow thrusts easing your throat loose, his grip remaining in your hair.
âI wonât let you kill me but you can bite my dick when youâre ready for more.â He grins, letting out a slight hitch in his breath.
Youâd probably smirk at that if your mouth wasnât stuffed with his fat cock. Instead, you kept sucking; helping him inch deeper, tongue pressing on the underside of his base.
Your soft, consistent sounds caused shudders to run throughout his body, hips twitching as they fought the urge to fill your throat to the brim. Yet he could only slowly face-fuck you until you were ready.
It didnât take as long as he thought it would for your teeth to start biting down on his cock. It didnât hurt him, not entirely.
It was more like excitement.
Bruce shifts to grab your head with both hands, fingers tangling in your hair as he begins to eagerly fuck your throat.
He bites his bottom lip, keeping his grunts of pleasure muffled.
His hips piston, shoving himself in and out of your stretched lips with growing intensity. Lewd gagging noises fill his office.
Tears had already begun to prick the corner of your half-lidded eyes, brows furrowing. You whined pitifully around your business rivalâs big dick.
The sound spurs Bruce on. He continues to fuck into your mouth, chasing his orgasm like a dog running after its own tail.
Your tears run down your cheeks as you let out another soft, moan. You feel so full, like you canât breathe, but what could you even do in a situation like this?
Your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden, sharp groan, Bruce hilts his cock balls-deep. His thick, sticky cum fills your throat. His body trembles and he lets out a shaky breath.
He pulls out and looks down at your flushed, submissive expression. Your hair is messy, tears in your hazy eyes, and a tremble in your lip as you gulp down his cum.
âCâmon. Letâs get you standing.â
Your legs were slightly wobbly from your nerves. Bruce starts untying some of the ribbon on your body. He works efficiently, so much so that in only a few seconds you feel your cock being released from its binding.
The rest of the ribbon on your hips and thighs stay in place, just looser than before.
âHands on my desk.â He spoke softly.
For once you werenât a snappy little brat and listened. Bruce immediately placed himself behind you, his still-hard cock nestled on your ass as he grinds against you slowly.
Gripping your hips tightly, he notches the tip of his cock against your puckered hole, applying just enough pressure to make you feel the heat radiating off his fat dick. He pushes his hips forward, spearing your tight hole with one, quick thrust.
âAaah!â A pathetic moan escapes from your throat.
Bruce doesn't stop or slow down, instead pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, setting a punishing pace.
âYouâre so.. goddamn tight.â He growls under his breath, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he rails into your ass.
âH- Hnn! ..ohh!â You cry out, almost collapsing on top of his desk. It shakes and rattles beneath you with each thrust.
Bruce leans over you, his hot, ragged breaths wash over your neck and back, spurring him on. One hand reaches up to grab a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back and forcing you to arch your spine, causing you to gasp.
âB- Bruce!â You sob, tears stream down your face.
His cock forces itself too far; your thighs violently tremble, your ass clamps down like a vice around his relentless cock.
âThatâs itâ take it, take it...â He groans as he watches your face; twisted with ecstasy and tears, completely overwhelmed.
It wasnât a surprise when you came.
You were violently shaking, crying, letting pitiful little whimpers escape your throat as your cum dripped from your cock, down your thighs.
Bruce let go of your hair, letting your head fall forward in exhaustion. He panted against your ear, slowed down to readjust; his hands grabbing the ribbon around your hips. Your ass, in turn, pushes back against his hips.
He starts to thrust into you once your breath catches up, his pace increasing again. He uses the ribbons to pull you back onto his cock, your body jerking like a puppet on a string as he slams into your abused hole.
âI want to see you touch yourself.. can you do that for me?â He asks breathlessly.
You slowly wrap a hand around your cock and clumsily stroke. You let out a long, broken sigh.
He gives the ribbons wrapped on your hips a sharp tug, your ass now tilted at the perfect angle, takes his thrusts to the hilt. Your breath hitches loudly at the stretch of him splitting you open.
Your stomach even bulges, each thrust practically going through you.
Suddenly hot, thick cum erupts from his buried cock. âBrucee! H- Hhnn..!â You choke on your tears as you get filled, the bulge in your tummy grows.
Just how big was his load?
He pulls out almost completely before slamming you back down on his thick dick. You throw your head back and scream, back jolting into an arch, legs shaking violently.
âAh!â Cum spurts from your twitching cock again. You let out a guttural whine when he grinds into you, his cum sloshing around inside. âI- I canât.. please.â
âYou know, for someone who was so embarrassed to be tied on my desk, youâre not even trying to stay quiet.â Bruce murmurs as he pulls out with a wet pop!
âShut up..â You sniffle.
âYou looking forward to choking on my dick again?â
With another sniffle you listen, facing him with a flushed, anxious expression, tears still lingering in your eyes. You slightly leaned against the desk, your legs were way too shaky to stand.
He peeks down at your cock, then your feet.
He doesnât respond, just kneels and unties the ribbons around your ankles. As he comes up he lifts you and settles you down on his desk, gripping your hips and pulling you to the edge.
You let out a curse under your breath but pull your thighs apart. Theyâre open wide and putting yourself on display like a cheap whore; leaking cock resting against your softened stomach and newly stretched hole practically begging for more.
You catch his gaze falling to your abused hole and groan internally.
âNot acting like a brat. Surprising.â Bruce whispers as he steps closer, pressing his cock against your slick, messy hole.
He sinks in with one thrust and you moan softly in response. He repositions his hands by sliding them under your ass, gripping some loose ribbon, lifting you up slightly. Your hands grip the edge of the desk to support yourself.
His thumbs sink into the thin flesh of your hipbones, leaving red finger-shaped imprints in their wake as he begins to fuck deeply into your hole, using the ribbon like reins again.
âAah.. oh fuck yes..â You gasp, practically jumping up and down on his cock like a bunny in heat. Heâs using the leverage to pull you down to meet his rough upward thrusts, the desk creaks and shakes beneath you again.
Bruce leans down and captures your mouth in a filthy kiss, groaning. His tongue forces its way past your lips and you open wider, âMmh..â
Neither you nor Bruce noticed the unexpected visitors who had quietly entered the room. Your moans and the lewd, wet sounds of your intense sex fill the air, masking any hint of their presence.
Bruce continued to bounce you on his fat cock, the movements burying him to the hilt, making you tremble and gasp. You sounded pathetic.
âN- Ngh.. ah, yes.. ohh!â
Two of Bruceâs employees stood stunned in the open doorway, eyes wide with shock at the erotic scene unfolding before them.
They had come to ask Bruce for assistance but nothing could have prepared them for this level of depravity.
The taller of the two, whose name was Michael, gulped as he watched his boss fuck his business rival. His jeans tightened noticeably in the crotch as he took in the obscene sight of Bruceâs larger body slamming into your smaller formâs ass.
Sam, the shorter one, was just as stunned. He blinked rapidly as if trying to clear his vision. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a flush creep up his neck and spread across his cheeks.
Bruce's eyes luckily flicked up and caught sight of his two employees standing there. He let out a soft sigh, not breaking his rhythm of slamming into your abused hole.
The room fell silent for a moment, save for the fwop fwop and your small whines.
"Are we... are we interrupting something here, boss? Sam asked, his voice was uncertain but his eyes didnât leave where Bruceâs cock sunk into you.
Bruce just smiled, not missing a beat as he continued to pound into you."No, we're good. In fact, come on in and shut the door behind you."
Michael and Sam exchanged a glance before doing as instructed, shutting the door and taking tentative steps towards the desk. As they approached, they got a clearer view of the debauched scene.
âCan I join?â Michael suddenly blurts.
Bruce raises an eyebrow but doesnât say no yet.
âI- Iâm starting to feel sore!â
âIâm sure you can handle one more round.â Bruce punctuates his words with a sharp thrust. You gasp beneath him, back arching as youâre speared on his dick. He just groans softly, feeling the way your walls flutter and clench around him.
Sam swallows hard, hesitation warring in his eyes as he watches Bruce practically use you like a fucktoy. His gaze darts to Michael, who shrugs and starts to unbutton his jeans, already working his stiffening cock out.
"Well, if you're sure he's up for it, boss," Michael says, freeing his thick, uncut cock. It juts out proudly, already leaking pre-cum and twitching with need.
âF- Fuck!â You whine as Bruce lays you back on the desk, your head dangling slightly off the edge nearest to Michael.
He smirks down at you, a wicked glint in his eye as he sees his employee looming behind you. "Open wide.â
Michael grins, one hand coming up to grip your hair as he notches the bulbous head of his uncut cock against your lips. Pre-cum smears across your skin as he starts to push forward, demanding entrance to your mouth. With a shaky breath, you obey.
Sam watches with bated breath and a rapidly stiffening cock as Michael pushes his dick past your lips, inch by throbbing inch disappearing into your throat. The sight of his friend's dick stretching your jaw is almost too much to handle, his own cock leaking steadily.
At the same time, Bruce starts to grind his hips in tight circles, stirring up the slick cum in your slightly protruding tummy.
Your eyes roll back as you feel Bruce's massive cock pulsing deep inside, the thick shape of it visible through the taut skin of your stomach.
Bruce and Michael exchange a grin over your upside-down body. Emboldened by your pleasure, they redouble their efforts, fucking you harder.
Bruce pistons his hips, starting to slam into your ass with a more aggressive manner. The desk creaks louder beneath you. Your quivering legs attempt to clamp together but he forces them wider.
At the same time, Michael starts to face-fuck you wildly, his thick cock plunging in and out of your stretched lips. Drool forms a frothy ring around his thrusting cock, dripping down your face. The head of his dick slams at the very back of your throat, making you gag and choke around the thick intrusion.
Your eyes are barely open, practically forced back into your lids. Sam watches, jerking his own cock furiously, his breathing growing ragged as he takes in the scene like a porno you watch late at night.
The room is filled with the crude, wet sounds of Bruce's hips slapping against your ass, combined with Michael's grunts as he pushes more of his thick cock into your mouthâyour holes being used, interspersed with your muffled, desperate moans.
Bruce slams into you one, two, three more times before letting out a ragged groan. His cock throbs and pulses as he buries himself to the hilt, filling you with his warm cum again.
Your belly begins to bloat slightly more as Bruce pumps what feels like ten loads deep into your core, grunting and shuddering above you.
Almost simultaneously, Michael pulls out of your mouth, fisting his dick rapidly. With a sharp gasp, he aims and starts to spurt rivulets of cum across your face.
Sam watches, eyes wide and jaw slack as he faps his own cock with gusto, the sight of you covered in cum and leaking Bruce's load from your gaping ass pushes him over the edge. He lets out a âA- Ahh,â his cock twitching as it spills his own seed onto the floor.
Bruce flips your trembling body over onto your stomach with ease, your muscles quivering from the intense fucking. He trails his fingers through the mess of cum dripping from your gaping, well-used hole, scooping up the thick cum before pushing three fingers knuckle-deep into your sensitive, twitching hole.
âH- Haah!â Your body jerks at the sudden penetration, a breathy moan escapes your lips.
Bruce smirks down at your form, enjoying the sight of you, his infamous rival, mewling beneath him.
He looks over at Sam and jerks his chin towards your ass. "Sam, get over here and clean up the mess I made. I need to catch my breath," he commands, already moving to sit in the leather chair a few feet behind.
Sam eagerly complies, moving behind you and taking in the sight of Bruce's cum leaking out of your stretched, puffy rim.
He leans in, dragging his tongue through the mess and moaning at the taste of Bruce's savory seed.
âH- Hnn..â You let out a broken sigh.
Sam starts to eat you out, his hands gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them as he seals his lips around your hole and suckles greedily.
At the same time, Michael yanks your head up higher by the hair, forcing you into a sloppy, aggressive make out session. His tongue plunders your mouth, filling your senses with the taste of your own tears and the lingering essence of his cum painted on your face.
His breathing is heavy, hot puffs of air over your face as he devours your mouth like a starving man at a feast.
Bruce sits back in the leather chair, taking in the sight of Sam eagerly lapping at the cum leaking from your gaping hole, his employeeâs tongue thrusting into your sensitive rim.
At the same time, Bruce's gaze drifts up to where Michael is making out with you, his hand fisted in your hair as he forces your head back. Your pathetic sounds are muffled by Michael's aggressive kisses, your back arching off the desk as you quiver from overstimulation.
Bruce smirks, feeling a twinge of pride and satisfaction at how thoroughly he's used you for Valentines; your belly is slightly distended from being filled to the brim, your holes are stretched and dripping, and your face is flushed and glistening with tears and cum.
Leaning back further in the chair, Bruce starts to lazily stroke his softening cock as he watches his employees continue to use your body.
âHappy Valentines, slut.â He says jokingly.
And all you can do is take it.
Š đŹđđ˘đ§đđ§đ¨đđđ˘đŹ â do not copy my work.
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
blakekathryn
ellievsbear
stormborns
theartofmadeline
vaporwave
prguitarman
