Night Shift: How a Security Guard Fucked a Cleaning Lady

Kira pushed a cart with a bucket and mop down the empty hallway of the seventh floor. The office building hummed with ventilation, and this monotonous sound was the night cleaner's only companion. She put in her headphones, turned on some music, and began mopping the floors—the rhythmic back-and-forth movements of the sponge, creating puddles of soapy water on the gray linoleum. Kira didn't notice the lights go out on the entire floor. The girl straightened up and pulled out her earphone. The silence was absolute, save for the sound of dripping water from a poorly closed faucet. Kira fumbled for a flashlight on the cart and switched it on. The beam revealed office chairs, monitors, and a ficus tree in the corner—a typical, deserted open-plan office. She took a step toward the fire door leading to the stairwell. The door was ajar, though Kira clearly remembered closing it an hour ago. A damp smell wafted through the doorway. The flashlight beam darted inward and rested on a black rubber mask. Round glass eyes stared straight at her. Kira opened her mouth, but no sound came out. A heavy hand in a tactical glove snatched the flashlight from her, the other grabbed her by the throat and shoved her back into the office space. Kira slammed back into the desk, sending folders tumbling down. "Quiet," the voice from under the mask sounded muffled, metallic. "If you want to live, shut up." He squeezed her throat harder. Kira wheezed and clutched his wrist, but his fingers only slid along the thick fabric of her security guard uniform. With his free hand, he unbuttoned her coveralls and ripped down the zipper. The jumpsuit fell to her feet, leaving her in her T-shirt. He pinned her to the table, pulled her T-shirt up to her neck, and ran his hand over her stomach and chest. She thrashed, and then he slapped her across the face—not with full force, but enough to make her eyes sparkle. — Last warning. Kira froze. He pulled her T-shirt off, turned her to face the monitor, and bent her over. One hand held her neck, the other unbuttoned his uniform pants. Kira felt something hard pressing against her thigh. She gritted her teeth as he abruptly spread her legs with his knee. His roughly gloved fingers slid between her legs, roughly pulled the edge of her panties aside, and entered—dryly, painfully. Kira screamed, and he immediately clamped his mouth over hers. - Say even a word and I'll break your neck. He pulled his fingers out and ran them over her face, forcing her to smell his own scent. Then he pushed her forward, forcing her chest onto the desk. Kira heard him spit into his palm. His hard cock pressed against her crotch, searching for entry. She squeezed her eyes shut. A sharp pain shot through her body. He began moving sharply, without preamble, driving her into the office desk. Kira bit her lip, moaning through her clenched fingers. A minute later, he pulled out and flipped her onto her back right there on the table. He hovered over her, the black lenses of his mask just a few centimeters from her eyes. He entered again, this time face to face, and Kira saw his own twisted face reflected in the glass. He fucked her while simultaneously squeezing her breasts—hard, until they bruised. He leaned down, and the cold rubber tip of the filter brushed against her neck and collarbones. His heavy breathing came through the filter. Having come for the first time, he didn't stop. He pulled Kira off the table and forced her to her knees. She could barely stand. He spat again, this time on her face, and forced bukvoeb.run's mouth open. He grabbed her hair and pulled her to his groin. Kira choked when he entered her throat, but he held her tight. He moved her head, setting the rhythm himself, until he came again. Then he lifted her and draped her over the back of the office chair. Kira braced her hands on the seat, her legs buckling. He entered her from behind—this time using some cold object. A vibrator? Kira couldn't see, only felt him alternately filling one orifice after the other, using both his penis and the foreign object. Pain mingled with a disgusting, violent arousal. She hated her body for this reaction. He removed the vibrator and came on her back and buttocks. Then he squatted down, spread her cheeks with his hands, and began licking her—slowly, methodically, as if tasting his handiwork. Kira lay exhausted, sobbing occasionally. He collected the sperm with his fingers and pushed it back inside her. Then he lifted Kira and sat her down in an office chair. He took some zip ties from his pocket and secured her wrists to the armrests. He turned the vibrator on again, inserted it, and secured it so it wouldn't fall out. He stood opposite her and began masturbating, watching her writhe in the chair, unable to close her legs. When he came for the third time—on her face and hair—Kira no longer responded. She stared into space, completely spent. He pulled out the vibrator and cut the zip ties. Kira slid from the chair to the floor. The guard buttoned his pants, adjusted his belt, and picked up the flashlight. The beam slid over the girl sprawled on the linoleum, across the puddles of soapy water mixed with other liquids. He turned off the flashlight. The fire escape door slammed in the darkness. Kira was left alone in the empty office, its vents humming.