Networking Internship

You are grateful to have been invited to the company retreat. You, the unpaid intern, are grateful for any opportunity.

Your boss has made it very clear what your responsibilities are. You will be leading the networking event. There will be a lot of networking.

“It’s a bit of a boys club,” they tell you.

“So much networking takes place,” they tell you.

The bondage bench you are zip-tied to is much more comfortable than you expected. The zip-ties don’t even dig into your wrists or ankles like you thought. The wood of the bench smells new and the cushions keep your knees from wearing out too quickly. There is a place to rest your head… when it isn’t being used. The little space for your cock, keeping it out of the way, is a bit tight; you can get hard, but not completely hard. Not comfortably erect, but it’s not about you anyway. You are just the intern.

“A lot of negotiations happen there,” they tell you.

Your boss mounts you from behind. He straddles you and grunts as he pushes a thick gourd of a cock deep into your ass. He rests it there, inside, not pumping. He likes to flex his cock. You feel each flex of his cock stretch your hole.

You would moan, but your mouth is full. Some CEO is slapping his balls across your chin, in and out, as he discusses corporate mergers, stocks prices, and profits.

You are nude down to a jockstrap and necktie. They remain fully clothed, only letting their thick cocks and heavy balls fall from their unzipped suit trousers.

“You’ve got to talk to my CFO about some of this stuff,” he tells your boss, slapping another man on the shoulder.

The CFO takes his place in front of you, groping at the outline of an oversized erection. He unzips and, “pop,” it reveals itself with a slap to your face. He opens your mouth with a salty thumb, pressing on your tongue, and guides himself inside. He pushes salt and pepper bush into your face. His pubes smells of pine soap as his uncut cock stretches down your throat. He tugs your tie upward as he talks about assets, liabilities, product margins, and… oh… he’s gonna… PROFIT! The cum pours down your throat. He slips his business card in your jockstrap band.

“It’s not official until we shake on it. I think I’d like to try the other end,” the CEO says. Your boss pulls slowly out to oblige. They swap positions. The CEO inserts his veiny member into your backside, a healthy stretch. He and your boss push in unison, back and forth, in and out. Fixed costs, capital gains, revenue, revenue, REVENUE!

Your boss flexes as he pumps a load down your throat; simultaneously the CEO shoots a load deep into your guts. They taste like success.

Still deep inside you, they shake hands. They pull out slowly. You feel the string of cum connecting his cock to the load in your ass. It breaks and drips down your leg.

“The last unpaid intern is now running his own company,” they tell you.

“He might be there,” they tell you.

The CEO tucks his business card next to the CFO’s, next to a dozen other cards you’ve collected throughout the day. “Good find, this one,” he tells your boss, “I could use a guy like that on my team.”

“You’re really getting ahead in this business,” your boss whispers, inserting a ball gag in your mouth, “keep networking like this and you’re going to make partner before you know it.”