I sat perched on the edge of my leather chair, the cool surface pressing against my thighs as I scrawled my signature across a stack of shipment documents. Our branches were exploding across the city—new outposts sprouting like weeds in fertile soil.
Profits piled up in neat digital columns on my screen, each figure a rush of dopamine that made my pulse quicken. God, profits were the best high, weren't they? Better than any drug, they whispered promises of power, expansion, invincibility.
But my body betrayed the thrill. My ass and pussy throbbed with a dull, insistent ache—a souvenir from the gangbang a week ago. Those alphas had been animals, merciless in their frenzy, pounding into me until my throat was raw and my voice shattered into silence for nearly two days.
