Mr. Vance stood over Sara like a king surveying his conquered prize. She lay sprawled on his desk, legs still spread, her once-professional pencil skirt now a crumpled rag around her waist. Thick white c*m poured steadily from her swollen, gaping p***y, forming a creamy puddle beneath her a*s.
“Look at the f*****g mess you made,” he sneered, voice dripping with contempt. “My expensive desk is covered in your w***e squirt and my c*m. You really are nothing but a cheap, leaking cumdump, aren’t you?”
Sara’s chest heaved, her t**s shiny with sweat. She could feel his hot load still bubbling inside her, slowly leaking out with every twitch of her abused cunt.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m your cheap cumdump.”
Mr. Vance grabbed her by the hair and yanked her off the desk, forcing
