Cabin Cam Girl

Anika didn’t care that the office had CCTV.

Every night after her shift ended at 7:00 PM, she stayed an extra hour under the pretext of "clearing reception logs." What she actually did was slide off her kurti, pull down her leggings, and sit cross-legged on the polished front desk — camera propped up on a tiny tripod, ring light on, dupatta discarded.

And then she performed.

Her phone would start buzzing with tips and requests:
“Bounce them again.”
“Spread wider.”
“Suck your finger and moan.”

She’d lick her nipples on camera. Tug on her clit until her thighs shook. Sometimes, she used the thick end of her water bottle to fuck herself until her moans echoed off the granite walls.

And the money came in. Faster than any salary ever had.

She didn't think anyone would find out.

Until the day Ravindra Mehra, CEO of the company, called her to his top-floor cabin.

She’d barely stepped inside when the door locked behind her with a heavy click. He was seated at his desk, sleeves rolled, a cold expression cutting through his otherwise calm face.

“Sit,” he said, without looking up.

Her heart thumped.

She sat. Crossed her legs. Tried to look polite. Innocent.

He turned the laptop toward her. And hit play.

The video showed her sitting naked on the office reception, legs spread, tits bouncing, moaning as she fingered herself furiously — a red light glowing in the background.

She froze.

The video lasted twenty seconds. When it ended, he shut the laptop.

“Do you have any idea,” he said slowly, “how many years you could be jailed for misusing company property like this?”

Anika swallowed. “Sir, I—”

“You turned my office into your personal brothel,” he hissed. “I should terminate you immediately.”

She stayed silent. She could feel her nipples harden from anxiety. Or maybe… not just anxiety.

“But you won’t,” she said suddenly.

He raised an eyebrow.

She leaned forward, voice lower, eyes bold now.
“I’ll stop. I’ll delete the account. Everything. But only if you agree to my offer.”

He folded his arms. “Which is?”

“You add ₹50,000 to my pay. Monthly. Cash. No questions asked.”

He stared at her. “You’re negotiating? With me?”

She smiled slowly. “I am.”

He looked her up and down. “You’re not worth that.”

“Maybe not to HR,” she said. “But you’ve watched that video more than once, haven’t you, Sir?”

A long pause.

He tapped a pen against the table. “What else?”

“Every Friday night,” she said, standing up now, walking to his side of the table. “You get me. However you want. No questions, no complaints.”

He stood too, slowly, looming over her.
“You think I’ll pay to fuck my own employee?”

She smirked. “I think you’re already hard, Sir.”

She was right. His cock strained against his trousers. His eyes were burning now — no more restraint. He grabbed her wrist and slammed her back against the desk, her breath hitching.

“Every Friday?” he growled.

She nodded.

“Then this one starts now.”

He tore open the buttons of her kurti, revealing her tight black bra. He didn’t even remove it — just pulled the cups down so her tits spilled out, nipples stiff, aching to be bitten.

“You want a raise, Anika?” he said, slapping her tit hard. “Then earn it.”

He unclasped his belt and unzipped, pulling out his cock — thick, veined, and rock hard. He slapped it against her cheek, her lips, her throat.

“Open your mouth.”

She obeyed.

He shoved his cock in roughly, grabbing her hair in a fist, face-fucking her deep until her mascara ran and drool dripped from her chin to her chest. Her moans vibrated around him, her throat raw, used.

She gagged but didn’t stop. Her hand reached down between her legs, rubbing her clit furiously, nipples dragging against the table.

He yanked her off his cock. She gasped, spit running down her neck.

“Bend over the table.”

She turned instantly, hands braced, ass up. Her leggings were ripped down, panties soaked and pushed aside.

He spread her open and groaned.
“Already dripping. You wanted this, filthy little cam slut.”

He shoved his cock into her wet cunt in one brutal thrust.

She screamed.

He started pounding her mercilessly, grabbing her hips, one hand twisting her hair, the other spanking her ass so hard she yelped.

“You sell your pussy online?”
Slap.
“You moan for strangers?”
Slap.
“You’ll moan for me now.”

“Y-yes, Sir!” she cried out, grinding back against him. “Fuck me, Sir! Take it!”

His cock slammed into her over and over, her tits swinging wildly, nipples brushing the cool wood. Her clit was on fire. Her body was wrecked. She was panting, sweating, coming closer and closer—

Until he pulled out suddenly.

“Beg for it.”

She whimpered.

“Beg, Anika. Or I stop.”

“Please, Sir. Please fill me. I want your cum inside me. I want to feel it drip down my thighs when I walk out. Please, Sir, don’t leave me like this—”

That was enough.

He rammed back into her and fucked her harder than before. Her orgasm hit her like lightning — she screamed, body convulsing, legs trembling as her cunt squeezed around him, milking him.

He groaned deep and thick as he came, spilling hot inside her, thrusting deep and holding it there — letting it soak.

They stayed like that. Her chest on the table. His cock deep inside her. Breathing hard.

When he pulled out, his cum trickled down her thighs.

She stood slowly. Wobbly. Bruised. Glowing.

He adjusted his pants and lit a cigarette.

“₹50,000 per month?” he said.

She smiled, still breathless. “Yes, Sir.”

“Fine.” He took a drag. “But next time, I fuck you in reception. During office hours. While the whole floor listens.”

She bit her lip.

“I’ll wear heels.”