A foot back from the glass wall stood a podium with a microphone centered on it. As Jasmine watched, a balding old man draped with a white smock, ascended the pulpit and stood facing her across its microphone. She saw instantly that it was the same elderly worker who she had been trying to evade.Jasmine instantly became self-conscious and smoothed her sundress, which had risen to the swell of her hips. She also adjusted the dress's straps on her shoulders, then re-smoothed the garment again to its hemline. Jasmine glared at the old man and shaking her right index finger at him, said, "You'd better let me out of here right now, if you know what's good for you!"The man in the white lab-coat shook his head no at her words and tapped upon the microphone. The result was a series of loud squealing thuds blasting into the room's thick air. Jasmine covered her ears and the codger made an adjustment to something on the podium."Testing - how's this?" His voice rang from the speaker in a loud. ...I don't remember ever being so wet....All of a sudden the pain was worse he was using his nails to pinch and drag up my nipples...I began to cry...then he moved and told me to get on all fours...he reached around grabbing my poor breasts again and squeezing with all of his fingers as he rammed his cock into me....around 5 minutes later he squeezed so hard I cried out just as he came and let go.we lay quietly for a few minutes it was hard to think about much else than my sore tits. I got up and dressed knowing it was time to make an appearance and think about making breakfast...just putting a bra on was uncomfortable...and I the pressure on my poor abused tits was very distracting...yet quite a turn on too.People left our house and all through the day he didn't mention what had happened that morning....it was all I could think about though. That night we went to bed and flicked normally, his gentle touches on my sore tits had never been so arousing...he asked me if the felt good.
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