All Of Me
by Jo
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© Copyright 2013 - Jo - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; F/m; office; secretary; desk; oral; climax; choke; ghost; revenge; cons/nc; XX
Ghoul-gle jpn
All Of Me Jo M/f; F/m; office; secretary; desk; oral; climax; choke; ghost; revenge; cons/nc; XX

Kenneth stepped into the elevator, slipped his card into the slot, and pressed G1. The doors slid closed. There was music, soft music.

"All of me. Why not take all of me."

Kenneth cocked his head. Sinatra? Bennett?

"Can't you see I'm no good without you."

Bennett, he decided.

He absently watched the buttons light as the car descended. Rank has its privileges and his card gave him an express ride to the garage.

He checked his watch. 8:42. Good. By the time he got home all the little beggars would be gone. He hated Halloween. Hated the little extortionists.


"Trick or treat, my ass," he muttered.

The car stopped. He glanced at the panel. Number 13 was illuminated. Kenneth was confused. First, the car wasn't supposed to stop with his card in the slot. Second, there was no floor thirteen. Was there? He had never seen a thirteenth floor in the US and he was sure his building had none. Or did it?

As he contemplated this the doors slid open. A woman stepped in. Young. Little more than a girl.

She said nothing, just turned and faced the doors. She looked like half the women in his office. Maybe he was old school, but there were no casual days. Casual clothes lead to casual attitudes, casual work ethics. He himself wore a suit with a vest.

She had her hair up, not in a bun, but up, neat. She wore wire-frame glasses. She had a pretty face in a common sort of way. Pretty the way many of the women in his office were. Her white blouse was some thin, soft material that clung to her chest. Her skirt was of modest length. She wore black stockings and black pumps. She smelled vaguely of spice, like pumpkin pie perhaps.

The numbers lit as the car descended until, finally, reaching G1.

The car went dark. But only for an instant. The lights were replaced by an orange glow, bright, yet soft. Kind of like the inside of a candle-lit Jack O'Lantern. The light came from everywhere, yet nowhere. The woman turned to him.

Her hair was down. It reached well past her shoulders. Her glasses were gone. Her blouse open two buttons beyond decency. Open enough that he could see most of her bra. Her skirt had a slit, a slit that reached her hip. He could see the lace at the top of her stocking.

"You don't remember me, do you Mr. Ryan?"

Kenneth didn't, though she looked vaguely familiar.

"You killed me. Choked me to death. In your office. A year ago. A year ago today, as a matter of fact."

Kenneth blinked at her.

"You used to like me to kneel under your desk, suck your cock. It amused you, I imagine, having me there while you worked, while others were in the room."

"I remember that first day. I had been with the company a bit less than a month when you called me into your office. You rolled back your chair and gestured. 'Get in there,' you said."

"I was confused. And then you said, 'Now!'"

"So I set my notepad on your desk and dropped to my knees. I crawled into the space beneath your desk. You rolled your chair forward. A wave of claustrophobia washed over me. I felt trapped, helpless."

"You reached for my head, grabbed my hair, pulled my head forward."

"Well, I'm not stupid, Mr. Ryan, and I'm not a prude. I'd had sex with bosses before. It's like they say, 'Give head to get ahead.'"

"But this came from left field, totally unexpected. But I undid your pants and took out your cock and did what I knew you wanted."

"You kept your hand in my hair and urged me on as guys are wont to do. And as you got close to coming you said, 'Spitting is not an option.'"

"The thought never occurred to me, quite honestly. So when you came I swallowed and when you were done you took out a handkerchief and wiped yourself off, tucked it back in your pants. You rolled back your chair, I crawled out from underneath and left the office."

"A couple of days later you called me in again. And, again, I went under your desk, sucked you off. I had my own handkerchief to wipe you with. You seemed to appreciate that, although you didn't say anything. I just kind of sensed it."

'Monday, under your desk, you put your hand to my head and said, 'No.'"

"You just pressed on my head, holding it there. You didn't want me to move. Suck on your cock, yes, but not move. So I did. Kind of like the way a baby suckles a pacifier. I settled in, kneeling back on my haunches, your cock in my mouth... for most of the morning."

"I listened as you made phone calls, was party to several meetings, endured long periods of silence. Just kneeling in the semi-darkness beneath your desk."

"Eventually you'd had enough and you urged me to finish the task. I did."

"It went like that, most days, under your desk. I was never bored. Not really. Even during the quiet times. It was kind of peaceful actually, just kneeling there. It was funny at times. Times when I sensed you wanted to stand to make a point, as it were, pace around the room, or to perhaps shake someone's hand. But you didn't."

"And it was interesting, having a ring-side seat, as it were, behind the scenes, behind the closed doors of the business world."

"There were bad times, though. The first came one day when you got a phone call. You pushed me away roughly, fixed your pants, and left. I stayed under the desk. You hadn't told me I could leave, so I just stayed there."

"When you came back you were angry. You sat and I undid your pants. You grabbed my hair and jammed your cock down my throat. I gagged. You slapped me and snarled, 'Take all of me, bitch.'"

"I tried. And I could have if you'd let me, given me a minute to change position. The angle was wrong under there, you see, but I could have. But you were impatient. And so you slammed my head forward and cursed me. And when you came you didn't give me a chance to wipe you off. You pulled me out by my hair and told me to get out."

"It happened again. And yet again. Not all that often, but often enough. Always the same, "Take all of me you useless bitch.'"

"And I tried, truly I did."

"And then one day it happened again. By then I had developed a sixth sense for these things. I saw it coming, but there was nothing I could do."

"You grabbed my hair in both hands and slammed my head down on your cock, hard, again and again, cursing me. And then you held me there. Held me while I gagged. Held me when I passed out. Held me... until I died."

"You pulled me out, sat me in your chair, wheeled me into the break room. It was a Saturday. You liked me to work Saturdays, mornings at least. There was no one around. You dumped me on the floor, rummaged around in the fridge, found something, some piece of meat, and rammed it down my throat."

"A tragic accident, they said. A girl alone, chokes on her lunch, no one there. Tragic."

She stepped over to him. Close. Very close. He could feel her warmth. He could smell her, although the scent had changed. It had a smoky, charred quality. She cupped his crotch.

"I could have taken all of you, you know. I could. I will."

She dropped to her knees, squeezed him, nibbled him through his pants. She undid his belt, undid the clasp, unzipped the zipper, tugged his pants to his ankles, pulled down his briefs.

His cock was hard, almost painfully so, so sensitive that it felt like he'd just come. He pulled back, but there was nowhere to go. He pressed himself into the corner as she stoked him, licked it, drew the head into her mouth, sucked gently, and purred.

"I'm going to take all of you, Mr. Ryan. All of you."

And she did.

She pressed her face forward, his cock slipping centimeter by centimeter down her throat, until her nose was buried in his cock hair and his balls nudged her chin. She dug her claws into his ass and held him for a minute, two, three... an eternity.

She eased back.

"See? Was that nice? Hm? Is that what you wanted?"

She did it again and again. Kenneth grunted and whimpered and whined and gasped as she sucked him. His cock hard to bursting. An orgasm building beyond anything he'd known. Explosive. If he could just get it out! If he could just...  He stood there on wobbly knees sobbing.

"Mm. That's what you wanted, Mr. Ryan, isn't it?"

She looked up at him.

"It is, isn't it?"

She gave him a leer.

"But wait, there's more."

This time she pressed herself forward, but she didn't stop when she'd swallowed his cock. She used her lips and tongue and slurped his balls into her mouth... and sucked... hard.

Kenneth shrieked and dropped to the floor.

The girl eased back and smiled.

"I going to take all of you Mr. Ryan. I am... every last bit of you.


"Okay, let's go over it again."

The old man nodded.

"Well, I gets the call from Mr. Kenneth to bring his car up and so I does that. And I wait for him. And I see the numbers on the elevator, you know? They gets to G1 and stop and I'm waiting for the doors to open, but they don't. And I wait some more and then I hear him scream."


"Yessuh. Had to be him. I mean wasn't nobody in there, him using his executive card and all. But he waren't in there."

"You're sure there was nobody."

The old man shook his head.

"Waren't nobody in there, officer. I didn't know that, but when the doors opened..."

"Go on."

"Well I hears a scream. Not a scream. Not like a human scream. A noise like the devil hisself is screaming. I don't know. Scared the shit out of me."

"Go on."

"Well, the elevator doors open and there's this puff of smoke."

"Like a fire?"

"No. Not like a fire. Like somebody who just puffed on a cigarette, you know. 'Cept it was orange."

"Orange smoke."

"Yessuh. Smelled like burnt pumpkin."

"Burnt pumpkin?"

"Yessuh. I makes a Jack O'Lanter for my grandbabies, puts a candle inside, and it kind of burns the lid after a while.

"Go on."

"Well, I goes to the door and I sees the clothes."

"Just the clothes."

"Yessuh. And I'm kind of like in shock and the door starts to close, so I sticks my hand in to stop it and I push the emergency stop button."

"And no one came out of the elevator?"

"Uh uh. I was right here. There was just his clothes, like all laid out. His jacket and vest and shirt. His tie knotted. I could see his cuff links. His pants were in a heap over his shoes."

"But there was nobody in there."

"No, uh uh. Just the clothes."


He turned. The maintenance man had the doors pried completely open. There in the corner were the clothes. The jacket and vest, shirt and tie, pants and shoes.

In the background, playing softly, elevator music. Nobody listens to elevator music. Tony Bennett crooned, "Why not take all of me."



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