Cfnm British Femdom Secretaries Give Group Sex Hj Fo

Sylvie, the red-headed, tattooed siren, strode into the office as if she owned it. And in many ways, she did. With her seductive sway and come-hither eyes, she held the power to bend men to her will. Today, Sylvie was going to dish out a special sort of discipline – group sex humiliation handjob fun.

The male secretaries, buttoned-up in their crisp white collars and argyle sweaters, scrambled to their feet when Sylvie walked in. She could see the bulges forming in their trousers, even before she’d said a word. Sylvie took her place center stage, aleiing over the assembled men as if surveying her troops.

“Gentlemen,” Sylvie purred, “I believe it’s time for your regular performance review.” The men all looked at each other, confused. Sylvie always did things a bit…unconventionally. “I’m afraid I haven’t been thoroughly impressed by your efforts thus far.” Her voice took on a disciplinary edge. “I think a special sort of team-building exercise is in order.”

With a snap of her fingers, Sylvie gestured to the filing cabinets lining the back wall. “Bring those out – all of them. Let’s make some room.” The men hastened to clear the area, sacrificing their desks and chairs to the purge. Sylvie smirked, knowing she had them right where she wanted them.

Her gaze fell on a particularly scrawny-looking young man, face flushed and anxious. “You, sir – what’s your name again?” She sauntered over and ran a scarlet-nailed finger along his trembling chin.

“T-t-tim, ma’am,” he stuttered.

“Well, Timmy, I’m going to need you to be a lot braver if you want to pass this little exercise.”

Sylvie turned to the other men with a wicked grin and snapped her fingers. “Strip!” she commanded crisply. “All of you – down to your undershorts.”

The men shuffled awkwardly, exchanging nervous glances, but none dared refuse. Silk ties fluttered to the ground as the button-up shirts fell open, revealing hairy chests and love handles. Slacks pooled around polished wingtips, leaving the men clad in tighty-whities that showed off their rising excitement.

Sylvie surveyed the lineup like a general inspecting her troops. “Much better,” she cooed. “Now then, gentlemen, who wants to show me what you’re made of?”

Timmy gulped audibly and tentatively raised a shaking hand. Sylvie’s eyes narrowed with a mixture of sadistic glee and casual disdain. “Very well, Timmy. You’re up first. On your knees.”

Mortified, yet flattered by Sylvie’s attention, Timmy sank to the floor. His heart hammered in his chest as Sylvie approached and extended a slender leg, her shapely calf sheathed in sheer black stockings.

“Go on then,” she purred teasingly. “Get started.”

Timmy tentatively grasped the ankle of Sylvie’s folded leg. His palms felt damp as he ran trembling fingers up her calf, exploring her curves through the delicate stocking. The silky material bundled around his knuckles as he made his way slowly up to her thigh.

Sylvie stood perfectly still, arms crossed over her ample bosom, watching Timmy’s progress with a slight smile. When his eyes flicked bashfully to hers, she raised a single eyebrow, beckoning him onward.

Timmy continued his cautious ascent, feeling himself grow harder with every inch. Sylvie’s skin prickled beneath the stockings as his fingers made their way up to the hem of her pencil skirt. Sylvie tensed slightly but made no move to stop him as Timmy slipped his hand under silk to stroke the bare skin of her thigh.

Her skin was even softer than he’d imagined. Timmy felt giddy as he explored upwards, higher and higher, until his fingers grazed the edge of her panties. Sylvie’s breath caught, and for a wild moment, Timmy thought he saw her stiffen in pleasure. But then her eyes flashed and her smile turned predatory.

“That’s enough, Timmy,” she said, voice like silk. “You may back off now.”

Timmy retracted his hand quickly, feeling the redness flush from his face to his chest. He sank back on his heels, flustered but triumphant. The other men watched with jealous eyes, wishing for their own turn.

Sylvie swiveled to face the group, hands on hips, looking every bit the dominatrix toying with her helpless prey. “So gentleman,” she breathed, “who’s next?”