Intern became office slut

I’m Jessica, and I’ve always turned heads with my curvy body that makes me look like a hot milf, even though I was just starting my career fresh out of college. My tits are full and push against any top I wear, and my ass sways just right in tight skirts. I landed a three-month internship at this big office firm, thinking it would boost my resume and open doors for future jobs. But from day one, I had no clue how toxic the place was, full of backstabbing politics and creepy vibes. The dress code was strict: white shirts and blue skirts that hugged our hips, making everything feel exposed.

On my first day, I walked into the open-plan office with my shirt tucked neatly into my blue skirt, the fabric clinging to my thighs. Heads turned immediately. Guys from all departments stared at my cleavage peeking from the top button I left undone—oops, or maybe not. My ass got equal attention as I bent to pick up my bag, feeling eyes burn into me. Everyone suddenly wanted to help the new intern. 'Need a hand with that printer, Jessica?' one guy asked, his gaze dropping to my chest. Another offered to show me around, lingering too close when he pointed out the coffee machine. I smiled and thanked them, feeling a rush of popularity. It made the day fly by.

There were two other girls starting internships with me, Sarah and Lisa. They were plain compared to me—flat chests, no curves—and nobody paid them much mind. They shuffled papers quietly while I got all the chit-chat and assistance. I felt bad for them but secretly enjoyed the spotlight. Then, around noon, the boss arrived. Mr. Thompson was in his late forties, tall with a sharp suit and a reputation for running the place like his personal kingdom. When he saw me at my desk, his eyes widened. He stopped dead, staring at my legs crossed under the desk and the way my shirt strained over my breasts. Lust flashed across his face before he masked it with a professional nod. 'Welcome, Jessica,' he said, his voice a bit too deep. I nodded back, sensing the hunger in his look, but I brushed it off. I had a boyfriend back home, and I wasn’t about to mess around.

The first two months were a dream. Mr. Thompson kept my workload light—no endless reports or overtime. He gave me freedom to explore projects, chat with teams, and even join meetings where I just observed. I figured he was being nice to the pretty new girl, maybe hoping I’d warm up to him. It was common gossip in the break room: interns who slept with the boss got recommendations, promotions, easy rides. Sarah and Lisa had already done it, from what I overheard. They bragged quietly about how Mr. Thompson fucked them in his office for 'favors.' But I wasn’t interested. My boyfriend was sweet, and I planned to keep things loyal. Those months flew by with lunches out, easy tasks, and everyone still eyeing me like I was the office prize.

But as the third month hit, things shifted hard. Mr. Thompson realized I wasn’t going to spread my legs for him. His smiles turned cold, and the freedom vanished. Suddenly, my desk piled up with double the work. Reports, spreadsheets, filing—tasks that should’ve been split among the team landed on me. Worse, Sarah and Lisa dumped their stuff too, smirking as they clocked out at 5 p.m. sharp. Turns out, after fucking the boss, they got lazy perks. Now I was stuck handling everything while they flirted their way through the day.

The office officially closed at 5 p.m., lights dimming and most people gone by 6. But I slaved until 10 or 11 p.m. most nights, the fluorescent hum the only sound. On Fridays, it was brutal—weekends meant no rush, so Mr. Thompson piled on extra, forcing me to stay until 3 or 4 a.m. I’d nod wearily when he said, 'Jessica, you’re so capable; handle this before Monday.' My eyes burned from screens, my back ached from the chair, and my skirt rode up from sitting so long. But I told myself to suck it up. The internship was almost over, and I’d learned tons: how to navigate software, deal with clients, even some office politics. The first two months of ease balanced the grind. Just one more month, I thought, rubbing my tired eyes.

That Friday night was like any other hellish one. The clock hit 11 p.m. as I finally saved the last file, my fingers cramping. The office felt like a ghost town—empty cubicles, shadows from the streetlights outside. I stretched, my shirt pulling tight across my chest, and sighed in relief. That’s when Raj, the peon, poked his head in. He was a quiet older guy who cleaned and ran errands. 'Miss Jessica, coffee and snacks,' he said in his soft accent, placing a tray on my desk: steaming mug, biscuits, a sandwich. 'I wait until you finish, but now I go home. Boss say it’s okay.' It was routine; he often stayed late on my behalf, making sure I wasn’t alone. I thanked him warmly—he was one of the few nice ones—and he nodded before shuffling out, locking the main door behind him with a click.

I sipped the coffee, warm and bitter, munching the snacks to recharge before heading home. The office was dead silent except for the hum of the AC. I stood to grab my bag, smoothing my blue skirt down my thighs, when I heard footsteps. Heavy, deliberate. From the dark hallway near the boss’s office. My heart skipped. 'Hello?' I called, thinking maybe Raj forgot something.

Two figures emerged from the shadows: Mark and Henry, two of the senior colleagues who’d been eyeing me since day one. Mark was stocky, with rough hands from his warehouse background before desk work. Henry was taller, leaner, with a smirk that always made my skin crawl. They’d hover near my desk, commenting on my 'assets' when they thought I wasn’t listening. 'Looking good in that skirt, Jess,' Mark had said once, staring at my ass as I walked away. Now, their eyes gleamed with something darker, drunk on power and whatever booze they’d snuck.

'What are you doing here? Office is closed,' I said, stepping back, my voice steady but pulse racing.

Henry chuckled, locking the door they’d come through. 'We saw the lights. Figured the hot intern was still slaving away. Boss’s orders, right? But we’re here to... help you relax.'

Mark moved closer, his breath heavy with beer. 'Yeah, Jessica. You’ve been teasing us for months with that body. Time to pay up.'

Panic hit me. 'Get out. I’m leaving.' I grabbed my bag, heading for the exit, but Henry blocked it, his hand slamming the door shut. I spun toward the emergency stairs, but Mark lunged, grabbing my wrist. 'No!' I yelled, yanking free and slapping him hard across the face. The crack echoed.

That pissed them off. Mark’s eyes narrowed, and he charged like a bull. His arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me off the ground. I kicked and thrashed, my heels scraping the floor. 'Let go! Help!' But no one was there. Henry joined in, pinning my arms behind my back as Mark threw me onto my desk. Papers flew everywhere, my coffee mug shattering.

'Feisty bitch,' Mark growled, his knee pressing between my legs to spread them. I bucked wildly, trying to knee him, but Henry held my wrists tight, slamming them down above my head. His grip bruised my skin. 'Hold her still,' he told Mark.

They wasted no time. Mark’s hands tore at my white shirt, buttons popping like gunfire. One, two, three—gone. My bra was exposed, lacy black against my pale skin, my full tits heaving with each panicked breath. 'Stop! Please!' I begged, twisting my body. But Henry leaned his weight on my arms, his face inches from mine, spit flying as he laughed. 'Shut up, slut. You’ve been asking for this.'

Mark yanked the shirt open completely, ripping the sleeves to free my arms—though Henry kept hold. Then his fingers hooked into my blue skirt, tugging the zipper down with a harsh zip. I clamped my thighs together, but he pried them apart, shoving the skirt up to my waist. The fabric bunched, exposing my panties—simple cotton, now damp from fear-sweat. 'Look at that ass,' Mark said, flipping me roughly onto my stomach. My cheek pressed into the desk, tits squished against the wood.

I screamed again, louder, but Henry clamped a hand over my mouth, his other still pinning one wrist. Mark’s free hand ripped my panties down my thighs, the elastic snapping. Cool air hit my bare pussy and ass. I felt exposed, vulnerable, my virgin holes clenching in terror. I’d only ever been with my boyfriend, gentle sex, nothing like this.

'First, that tight pussy,' Mark muttered. I heard his belt unbuckle, zipper down. Fabric rustled as he freed his cock—thick, veiny, already hard and leaking pre-cum. He rubbed the head against my slit, probing. 'No! Don’t!' I muffled against Henry’s palm, tears streaming. I bucked back, trying to crawl away, but Mark grabbed my hips, nails digging in. With one brutal thrust, he shoved his cock into my dry pussy.

Pain exploded. I wasn’t wet, wasn’t ready—his girth stretched me painfully, tearing a raw scream from my throat. Henry’s hand muffled it to a whimper. Mark groaned, pulling back only to slam deeper, his balls slapping my thighs. 'Fuck, she’s tight. Virgin-tight.' He pounded relentlessly, each thrust grinding my clit against the desk edge, mixing pain with unwanted sparks. I resisted, clenching my muscles to push him out, kicking my legs, but he held me down, fucking harder. My pussy burned, juices forced out by friction, slicking his shaft against my will.

Henry watched, stroking his own cock through his pants. 'My turn soon.' Mark’s pace quickened, hips snapping, desk creaking under us. I sobbed, body betraying me as pleasure crept in despite the rape—my walls fluttered around him. 'No... stop...' But he didn’t. With a grunt, he buried deep and came, hot cum flooding my pussy, spilling out as he kept pumping.

He pulled out, panting, cum dripping down my thighs. I thought it was over, but Henry flipped me onto my back. My torn shirt hung open, bra pushed up, tits bouncing free. Nipples hard from the cold and fear. He released my mouth to grab my throat, squeezing just enough to make me gasp. 'Suck it, bitch.' He unzipped, shoving his longer, thinner cock toward my face.

I turned my head, lips sealed. 'Fuck you,' I spat. Mark laughed, holding my jaw open while Henry forced his cock past my teeth. Salty, musky—he hit the back of my throat, making me gag. Tears blurred my vision as he face-fucked me, hands in my hair, pulling strands. 'Swallow it all.' I resisted, biting lightly, but he slapped my cheek. 'Do it right.' Thrusts grew rougher, cock swelling. I choked, saliva dripping down my chin onto my tits. Finally, he exploded, cum shooting down my throat. I coughed, some spilling from my lips, but he held me until I swallowed.

They weren’t done. Mark eyed my ass. 'Now the virgin hole.' Terror gripped me. 'No, please—not there!' I’d never done anal; it was off-limits even with my boyfriend. But they ignored me. Henry held my arms again, spreading my legs wide. Mark spat on my ass crack, rubbing his still-hard cock—slick with my pussy juices and his cum—against the tight pucker.

I thrashed, screaming, but he pressed in. The head popped past the ring, agony ripping through me like fire. 'It hurts! Stop!' Inch by inch, he forced his way, my ass clenching desperately to expel him. But he pushed deeper, grunting. 'So fucking tight.' Once buried, he started thrusting—slow at first, then faster, tearing me open. Blood mixed with his spit, easing the way slightly, but pain dominated. I begged, cried, my body shaking.

Henry watched, jerking his cock back to life. 'Pound that ass.' Mark did, hips slamming, balls smacking my pussy. Unwanted sensations built—pressure on my insides, rubbing spots that made my pussy clench empty. I hated it, resisted every second, but my body quivered. Mark reached around, fingers roughly pinching my clit, forcing a moan from me. 'See? She loves it.' No, I didn’t—but the orgasm hit anyway, waves crashing as my ass milked his cock.

He roared, cumming deep in my virgin ass, filling me until it leaked out. Pulling free, he left me gaping, sore, cum pooling on the desk.

Henry took his place, flipping me to all fours. 'My turn for that ass.' Fresh panic—I was wrecked already. But he didn’t care. His cock, lubed from my saliva, slid into my abused hole easier now, but still hurt. He fucked steadily, hands gripping my hips, pulling hair to arch my back. 'Take it, intern slut.' I whimpered, too exhausted to fight much, but I whispered 'no' over and over. His thrusts grew erratic, then he unloaded, more cum flooding my bowels.

They stepped back, zipping up, leaving me collapsed on the desk—clothes ripped, body marked with bruises, cum leaking from pussy and ass, throat raw. 'Don’t tell, or you’re done here,' Mark warned. They left, laughing.

I lay there, sobbing, the office silent again. The internship’s end couldn’t come soon enough.