corporate cockwranglers

The phone rang and Mr. Miller quickly stuffed the gag back into Daniel's mouth.

"Yello?  Aha, tough break.  Yeah, no can do right now.  Nope.  I said no.  Things are getting tricky here, you'll have to soldier on yourself."

Sighing, Mr. Miller lowered the blinds, shutting out the angry orange glare of the early evening sun, and returned to the sex swing.

Daniel whimpered a little as his boss adjusted the straps, but Mr. Miller would have none if it.

"Shh.  You'll have to be tougher," said Mr. Miller, offering another harsh smile. "There's a fire in the cantina.  The cheese man and Consuela are dead... so far.  Where were we?"

Somewhere outside, the wee-ooo-wee-ooo-wee-ooo of an ambulance could be heard.

"I was a fireman, Mr. Miller!  Let me help!" yelled Daniel selflessly, tears streaming down his gay face.

"No!" yelled Mr. Miller.

"You have to let me fight it!" yelled Daniel, "It's instinct!"

"So is this!" barked Mr. Miller, slapping Daniel across the face with his schlong.

Then, Mr. Miller walked back into the middle of the room, his loud obnoxious heels going clickity-clack, clickity-clack.  Daniel whimpered and shuddered.  He thought that Mr. Miller looked like a shark in an Armani suit as he stood there in the half-dark, laughing and displaying his razor sharp teeth.  A laughing, diabolically laughing maneating shark with a massive maneating erection.

Mr. Miller laughed.  Daniel whimpered and shuddered.  Mr. Miller laughed yet again.

Then, suddenly and without warning or provocation, Mr. Miller took two quick steps forward and maneuvered his throbbing meatsicle back into Daniel's gaping manchasm, proceeding to thrust viciously.

"Wee-oo, wee-oo," yelled Daniel, his screams of torment becoming one with the ambulance's in a cacophonous torrent of dread and horror too weird and scary for this world.