The Doll at the Wedding

It was hot. Too hot for a wedding at the end of August. I stood at the edge of the dance floor in a tight dress that dug into my hips, feeling the new guy's eyes practically peeling the fabric off me. Artem. Twenty-eight, cocky, with that half-smile that made my panties wet the second I saw it. We'd agreed back at the office: at my best friend's wedding, nothing happens. We're just colleagues. But the moment his palm landed on my waist, like it was an accident, I knew we were both lying to ourselves.

"You look like something that should only be looked at tonight," he murmured, leaning into my ear. His breath burned my skin. "But I want to do something else entirely."

"Artem, we're in public," I breathed out, but my voice betrayed me. My nipples were already hard, rubbing against the thin lace of my bra.

He didn't answer. He just took my hand and pulled me through the crowd toward the far hallway where the guest rooms were. The door clicked shut behind us. Outside, music thumped, laughter rang out, glasses clinked. Here, there was only our heavy breathing.

"You said this doesn't mean anything," he reminded me, pressing me back against the wall. His hand was already hitching up my dress, fingers shoving roughly under the lace of my panties. "So that means I can do whatever I want with you, right?"

"Yes..." I whispered, not believing my own words. "Just fast. And quiet."

"Quiet isn't happening," Artem smirked, then yanked my panties down. They tore with a soft rip. I gasped. He shoved two fingers straight into my already dripping pussy, fucking me with them hard and deep. "Fuck, you're so wet, Elena. Dripping like a total slut."

I bit my lip to keep from moaning too loud. His big, hard cock was already straining against his pants, pressing into my thigh. I reached down myself, unzipped him, wrapped my hand around the hot shaft. It was thick, pulsing, the head already slick with precum.

"On your knees," he ordered suddenly. His voice had changed completely—that same tone he used when delivering reports at the office. "I want to see my strict boss choke on my dick."

I dropped down obediently. My dress bunched up, my knees pressed into the cold hardwood. Artem grabbed a fistful of my hair and shoved his cock into my mouth. I opened wide, feeling it hit the back of my throat immediately. Saliva ran down my chin. He started fucking my mouth—slow but deep, driving all the way in until his balls pressed against my face.

"That's it... good doll. This is exactly how I pictured you during meetings. On your knees with my cock in your mouth."

His words hit me right in the clit. I moaned around his shaft, sucking harder, working my tongue along the veins. He growled, thrusting faster. Tears streamed from my eyes, but I didn't stop. I loved it. Loved being his doll.

Suddenly he pulled out, lifted me like I weighed nothing, and sat me on the edge of an antique dresser. My legs spread on their own. Artem stepped between them, spat into his palm, smeared the saliva over the head, and slammed into my pussy in one brutal thrust, all the way to the hilt.

"Aaah... fuck..." escaped me. He was so big that everything inside me burned.

"Quiet," he hissed, clamping his hand over my mouth. "Or everyone will hear the boss coming on her subordinate's cock."

He started pounding me hard. The dresser creaked in rhythm. Every stroke made my tits bounce in the neckline. His balls slapped against my wet ass. I wrapped my legs around him, digging my heels into his back. We were both panting, almost growling.

"I want your ass," he said suddenly, not stopping his rhythm. "Turn around. Now."

I slid off, turned, arched my back, braced my hands on the dresser. Artem spat directly onto my hole, smeared it with his finger, then pressed the head against it. I bit my hand as he started pushing in. Slow but relentless. The pain mixed with such sharp pleasure that my knees went weak.

"Relax, doll... that's it... good girl," he whispered, sinking deeper. When he was fully inside, I felt his balls pressed against my pussy. He began to move—slowly at first, then faster. One hand snaked between my legs and started rubbing my clit furiously.

"I'm going to come... Artem... harder..."

"Come, you slut. Come while I'm fucking your ass."

The orgasm hit me like a wave. I convulsed, clenching around his cock, fluid spraying from my pussy onto his fingers. He roared, drove into me to the hilt, and started coming. Hot cum flooded my ass in powerful bursts. He came for a long time, filling me to the brim.

We froze. His cock was still inside me, pulsing. Cum slowly leaked from my ass, trickling down my thigh. Outside, the music kept playing.

Artem leaned down and kissed the back of my neck.

"Does this still mean nothing?" he asked quietly.

I turned my head, met his eyes. My lips were trembling.

"It means that tomorrow at the office, you'll call me 'doll.' And I'll do whatever you say."

He smiled that cocky smile and slowly pulled out. Cum gushed out harder.

"Deal."