Breasts Appreciation Day - Office Edition

Once a year, on September 2, the otherwise quaint city of Teaseville transformed into a vibrant, albeit peculiar, spectacle. This was ***Breasts Appreciation Day***, a holiday that had grown from a small local tradition to a full-fledged national event for the past decade. The rules were simple: from sunup to sundown, every woman aged tender 18 to wise 50 was encouraged to ditch their shirts and blouses and instead flaunt their curves with only a bra as their top. This was a day to revel in the beauty and power of femininity that drew crowds from far and wide. The only rule for men was a strict one: no erections allowed. This was a day to admire, not indulge.

In the heart of the city, nestled between skyscrapers, was the office of 'Hudson&Brittle' law firm. Here, a mid-career white collar man named Richard sat in his office, trying his best to keep his eyes glued to his computer screen and his thoughts pure. But alas, the devilish call of the day grew stronger with every passing moment. The air was thick with pheromones, and the constant sway of unbridled breasts made it nigh impossible for any hot-blooded male to think straight.

The door to his office swung open without warning, and in strutted the office's young intern, Trish, her voluptuous breasts straining against a crimson red bra that could barely contain her youthful assets. The garment was a scandalous, yet tantalizing, sight, especially paired with the form-fitting black pencil skirt that ended just above her knees. The fabric clung to her curves, tracing the outline of her smooth thighs and the swell of her hips as she moved with a feline grace that seemed almost predatory. Her long, shapely legs were sheathed in sheer nylons that whispered against her flesh with each step she took, leading up to a pair of high heels that clicked sharply on the tiles like the ticking of a time bomb set to detonate Richard's fragile self-control.

Trish was the kind of intern that made every man in the office sweat, and not just because of the extra workload she often brought with her. Her beauty was a weapon, a tool she wielded with the precision of a skilled blacksmith. She had the face of an angel, framed by a cascade of golden locks that fell in soft waves over her bare shoulders, but the glint in her eyes was that of a devilish temptress, and it was a look that Richard knew all too well. She had a way of leaning over desks that made every man's heart skip a beat, and today, she was leaning over his, her cleavage displayed like a treasure trove of forbidden fruit.

The task she had for him was simple: sign off on some paperwork for the upcoming party. It was a trivial matter, but the way she leaned over, her breasts threatening to escape their red confines with every breath she took, made it feel like the most complicated contract he had ever encountered. He could smell her perfume, a sweet, intoxicating scent that seemed to be tailor-made to drive men wild. It was a struggle to keep his eyes on the documents in front of him, but he knew that one stray glance would be his undoing.

Trish noticed his discomfort, her eyes flicking down to his crotch with a smirk. She knew the effect she had on the men in the office, and she reveled in it. She had come prepared for this day, her bra designed to showcase her assets in the most tantalizing way possible. It was a silent challenge, a game of cat and mouse that she knew she would always win. "Why so tense, Richard?" she cooed. "Is there something on those papers that's troubling you?"

Richard's gaze snapped back to the documents, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson. He cleared his throat and tried to refocus, but the heat of her breath washed over him, carrying with it the scent of vanilla that made his cock throb in his pants. He could feel it growing, straining against his zipper, and he knew he was in trouble. He took a deep breath and reached for his pen, trying to ignore the way his hand was shaking. But as he went to sign, she leaned in closer, her arms propping her up on the desk, pushing her breasts together until they formed a deep valley of cleavage that was impossible to ignore.

He felt his resolve crumbling. The sight of her creamy skin and the dark shadow between her breasts was like a beacon, drawing his eyes away from the task at hand. He couldn't help but steal a quick glance, and that was all it took. His erection grew to full mast, a traitorous tent pole in his trousers that was as obvious as a neon sign. Panic set in, and he knew he had to do something before it was too late. He coughed loudly, trying to cover his embarrassment, but it was like trying to put out a forest fire with a water gun.

Trish's smirk grew wider as she took in the clear outline of his arousal. "What do we have here?" she asked. She reached out a hand, her long, red nails tapping playfully at the bulge. "It seems like someone's enjoying the view a little too much." Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer. "What is it about me, Richard, that makes you so hard?"

Her question was rhetorical, but she listed his transgressions with a tease in her voice. "Could it be the way my tits are almost spilling out of this bra? Or maybe it's my ass in this tight skirt, begging to be grabbed?" She pushed her chest closer to him. "Or perhaps it's the thought of me bending over for you, giving you the perfect shot of my round, tight ass?" Each word was a stroke of fire on his already flaming desire. He could feel his pulse racing, his cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat, desperate to break free from its confines.

"I... I'm sorry, Trish," he managed to stutter out. "It's just... it's *Breasts Appreciation Day*, and you're so... so... " He couldn't find the words, his thoughts a jumble of lust and fear.

"So what?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "You think you're the only one who's hard today? That every man isn't fighting the same battle?"

Her hand slid off the desk and onto his thigh. "You know the rules, Richard. No erections allowed," she whispered. "You're breaking the rules, and that means you need to be punished."

With a swiftness that belied her playful demeanor, Trish stood up and strutted towards the door, her hips swaying with a seductive rhythm that made Richard's mouth water. She closed it with a dramatic click that echoed through the room, leaving them in a cocoon of privacy. As she turned the lock, her ass cheeks clenched together, creating a mesmerizing sight through the fabric of her skirt. He could see the outline of her panties, a scrap of lace that did nothing to hide the perfection beneath it. It was like watching a striptease performed by a she-devil, and he was both horrified and fascinated.

"Please, Trish," Richard began. "You don't have to do this. It's just... it's the day, you know?" He gestured vaguely towards the window, as if the chaos of *Breasts Appreciation Day* could somehow justify his lapse in judgment. "We can just forget it ever happened."

Trish leaned against the door, her arms folded beneath her breasts, pushing them up even further. The fabric of her bra strained, and Richard could see the faint outline of her nipples pressing against it. "Oh, I don't think so, Richard," she said with sweet, sadistic amusement. "You've enjoyed the view, now it's time to pay the price."

She sauntered back towards him, her steps slow and deliberate, like a cat stalking its prey. Richard felt his heart hammering in his chest, a mix of dread and excitement coursing through his veins. He knew that there was no talking his way out of this, no clever argument or charm that could save him from the punishment she had in mind. He was at her mercy, and the thought both terrified and aroused him.

"Stand up," Trish ordered. Richard hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking to the door before he slowly pushed himself to his feet. His erection tented his pants, a clear and unmistakable declaration of his guilt. The room seemed to shrink around them, the air growing heavier with every second that ticked by. "Good boy," she murmured, her eyes never leaving his crotch. "Now, let's see what we're working with."

With a wicked smile, she reached out and unbuckled his belt with a flick of her wrist. The sound was like a gunshot in the tense silence, and Richard's hands shot up to cover himself, his face a mask of mortification. "Now, now," she chided, slapping his hands away. "No hiding." She unzipped his pants with a slow, deliberate motion. He could see the hunger in her eyes, the desire to see him at his most vulnerable. With a simple tug, she yanked his trousers down to his ankles, leaving him standing in nothing but his tight, white boxers. His cock strained against the fabric, a testament to his arousal.

"Well, well, well," Trish murmured, leaning in to inspect his erection. "Someone's been enjoying the view quite a bit, huh?" She reached out and gave his cock a playful squeeze through his underwear, her eyes lighting up with glee as he gasped. "You know, Richard, I've always wondered what you had hiding under there."

With a wicked grin, she stepped back and pointed to the wall. "Lean back and spread 'em," she ordered. Richard's mind raced as he obeyed, his back pressed against the cold, unforgiving surface, his legs spread wide. He was now fully exposed to her, his cock straining against the fabric, begging to be released.

Without warning, Trish brought her foot up in a swift, precise arc. The pointed tip of her stiletto connected with his balls, the impact sending a shockwave of pain through his body. Richard's eyes bulged, a strangled cry escaping his lips as he doubled over, his hands clutching at his crotch. The room swam around him, stars dancing in his vision as he fought to stay up.

Trish stepped back, watching him with a smug expression. "Impressive," she murmured with surprise. "You're tougher than you look." Despite the agony, Richard felt a twisted sense of pride at her words. It was a perverse thrill, knowing that his pain was a source of amusement for her. He gritted his teeth, willing himself not to fall to the floor.

But she wasn't done yet. She eyed him up and down, her foot tapping against the floor as if she were contemplating her next move. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "I think you need another kick, just to make sure you've learned your lesson."

Without waiting for his response, she reared her leg back again. Richard's eyes widened, his body tensing in anticipation of the pain that was about to come.

The kick connected with a sickening thud, her stiletto finding the exact same spot she had hit before. This time, the pain was so intense that his legs gave out from under him, and he crumpled to the floor gasping. He had never felt such agony, and yet, his cock remained rock-hard.

Trish's eyebrows shot up, a look of disbelief crossing her face. "What the fuck?" she exclaimed, genuinely surprised. "How are you still hard after that?" She stepped closer, her heel hovering over his groin, the tip of her shoe poised to deliver another blow. "What's your deal, Richard?" she demanded, her curiosity piqued.

Her eyes narrowed, studying the bulge in his boxers with a newfound intensity. "Is it because of me?" she mused. "Is it because of these?" She gestured to her breasts, the red bra stretched to its limits. It was clear that Richard was under her spell, and the thought both intrigued and infuriated her.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she accused, her foot pressing down on his cock, the fabric of his boxers the only barrier between them.

Trish couldn't believe it. He was still hard. The sadistic thrill of watching him suffer only made him more aroused, and she had to admit, it was a turn on. With a cruel smile, she kicked him in the balls again, her stiletto connecting with a sickening crunch. Richard's body spasmed, and a high-pitched yelp echoed through the room, but his erection remained unyielding.

"Fuck, you're insatiable," she murmured in admiration. She couldn't help but laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls like a malicious echo. "What is it about a good kick to the balls that gets you going?" Her question hung in the air, unanswered, as she stepped back to appreciate the spectacle before her.

Trish reached down and grabbed the waistband of his boxers, giving it a sharp tug. The fabric gave way with surprising ease, revealing his swollen testicles, already bruising from her foot's attentions. Richard's cock sprang free, the head shiny with a bead of precum that glistened in the harsh office light. "Look at that," she said with wonder. "You're practically begging for more."

With a wicked smile, she stepped back and grabbed him by the tie, yanking him to his feet with little effort. He stumbled, his legs wobbly, but she didn't let go. Instead, she pulled him closer, her eyes locked on his erection as if it were the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. "You want it, don't you?" she whispered. "You want me to kick your balls until you can't take it anymore."

Trish's chest heaved as she brought her leg back for another swing, the tension in the room palpable. Richard's eyes were glued to her breasts as they bounced in anticipation, the red lace of her bra taunting him. The sight was like a drug, fueling his arousal even as fear of the impending pain coiled in his stomach. He knew he should beg her to stop, to spare him, but all he could do was whimper.

Her foot connected with brutal force, the stiletto digging into his sensitive orbs. Yet, amidst the searing pain, the sight of Trish's breasts bouncing as she kicked was like a visual aphrodisiac. Her bra strained with every impact, the red lace a fair juxtaposition to her pale, jiggling mounds. Each movement sent a ripple of pleasure through him, countering the waves of pain that crashed against his sanity.

Trish noticed his gaze, the way it never left her chest even as he writhed in agony. A knowing smile played on her lips as she realized the source of his unyielding arousal. "It's my tits, isn't it?" she said. "You can't get enough of them, can you?"

Her hand trailed down from his tie to cup one of her breasts, lifting it slightly to give him a better view of the deep valley between them. "You like watching me, don't you?" she taunted, her thumb circling her nipple. Richard couldn't tear his eyes away as she began to squeeze and knead.

The pain in his balls was intense, but the sight of her playing with herself was like gasoline on the fire of his lust. His cock throbbed, begging for relief, as she continued her cruel dance. "Tell me, Richard," she whispered seductively. "What is it about these that makes you so hard? Is it their size? Their shape? Or maybe it's the way they bounce when I kick you in the nuts?"

With a sadistic twinkle in her eyes, she swung her leg back for another kick. Richard's vision blurred as the tip of her shoe slammed into his testicles. He collapsed to the floor again, his body spasming as she stepped over him, her breasts bobbing. The fabric of her bra was stretched taut, and he could see the faint outline of her nipples, taunting him as he writhed.

"You know," she began, "I think we've been calling this day wrong all along. We should call it '*Breasts Worship Day*' instead." She leaned down, her breasts hanging tantalizingly close to his face. "After all, that's what you're really doing, isn't it?"

Trish's eyes flicked down to his cock, which was now oozing precum in a desperate bid for relief. "With these," she began as she cupped her own breasts, lifting them slightly to emphasize her point, "I have complete control over your penis." She said it as if it were a simple fact, something as indisputable as gravity or the rising of the sun.

Leaning over him, her breasts swaying hypnotically, she whispered, "They're enough to make a grown man cum, Richard. Just by looking at them." Her eyes held his, challenging him to refute her claim as she squeezed her breasts together, the red fabric of her bra straining to contain them. The sight was so erotic, so utterly mesmerizing, that he could feel his orgasm building, the pain in his balls a distant, almost inconsequential throb.

With a malicious glint in her eye, Trish brought her stiletto down, the pointed heel aiming straight for his balls. Richard's eyes went wide with a mix of horror and anticipation as she stomped down hard, the heel grinding his testicles into the floor. The pain was searing, yet through the agony, he could feel his cock pulsing, his arousal reaching a crescendo.

Trish leaned back, watching him with a look of astonishment and growing excitement. "You're a tough one, Richard," she murmured with lust. "You know, I've been going around the office all day, giving everyone a little... reminder of the rules." She began to tick off the names of her conquests on her fingers, her eyes glazed with the thrill of the chase. "Cody from maintenance, he was easy. One kick and he was down. Then there was Stuart from logistics. He squealed like a piglet. Brandon from IT, he didn't last long either."

Her eyes gleamed with mischief as she continued. "And let's not forget Jeff from archives. He was so desperate to hide his cock from me that he barely had time to react before I sent him to his knees. And even Mr. Norington, the big boss himself. He didn't take it well, but one good punt to the nuts and he was as soft as a marshmallow."

Trish's gaze flicked down to his crotch again, where his erection remained unyielding despite the punishment. "But you," she said in awe and amusement, "you're my best catch of the day, Richard."

With a sadistic smile, she pressed down harder with her stiletto, her foot grinding into his testicles with a vicious twist. Richard's body arched off the floor, his back slapping against the wall with a wet smack as he fought to contain the scream that tore through his throat. The pain was unbearable, but the sight of her standing over him, her breasts bouncing slightly with each twist of her foot, was an agonizingly sweet torment that only served to heighten his arousal.

In a desperate move, he reached up and grabbed her ankle, his hand wrapping around her slender limb like a vise. He tried to lift her foot away, his eyes pleading with her to end his suffering. But Trish was in control now, and she wasn't about to let up. She pushed down harder, her weight transferring to her other leg as she ground the heel into his bruised gonads. Richard's fingers dug into her nylons, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned in closer, "Brittany's got quite the legs, doesn't she?" she said with a wicked smile. "I saw her kick Charles in the nuts a few times today. He couldn't get the job done either, poor thing. Her black bra was so tight, her tits looked like they were about to pop out."

Trish chuckled, enjoying the power she had over him. "And Janett," she continued, "that white bra and knee-high socks combo was really something else. The way she strutted around, her tits practically begging for attention, it was like watching a porn scene in real life. You should have seen her knee Denis from accounting. He was so hard, it was like watching a flagpole in a storm. But she showed him, didn't she?" She paused, her smile growing even more sadistic. "And Gloria, in that silky silver bra that barely contained those monsters of hers. Oh, the way she squeezed Justin's nuts until he was whimpering like a puppy."

Her eyes flicked back to his erection, which remained as hard as ever despite the intense pain she was inflicting. "But none of these men," she said, emphasizing each word with a twist of her foot, "none of them have ever been able to handle the kind of punishment you're taking."

Trish's foot pressed harder, the heel of her stiletto digging into his flesh with a grim determination. Richard's face contorted in a silent scream as he tried to will the agony away. The pressure grew until it was unbearable, until he was sure she was going to crush his balls into oblivion. And then, just as he thought he couldn't take anymore, she released the pressure.

He gasped, panting for air, his body shaking with the aftershocks of pain. But she wasn't done. With a swift, practiced motion, she stepped off his balls and onto his cock, the heel of her shoe pressing down with a brutal force. Richard moaned, and he stared up at her in shock and horror, his mind reeling from the sudden shift in target.

Trish ground her heel into his erection, her weight shifting to that one foot as she leaned over him, her breasts still swaying tantalizingly close. She watched his face, her eyes glittering with a dark excitement as she felt his cock throb and pulse beneath her shoe.

In his mind, Richard painted the vivid images Trish had described: Brittany's tight black bra, Janett's white lace, Gloria's silver cups straining to hold her ample breasts. Each twist of the stiletto on his cock brought forth a new face, a new set of breasts to worship. The pain was a strange, twisted form of pleasure now, a fiery serpent coiling around his lust.

Trish's own breasts dangled before him, taunting, as if offering themselves as a target for his own punishment. He watched in a haze as she leaned over, her red bra stretching, the lace biting into her flesh as she balanced on one foot, the other pressing down on his erection. The room spun around him, the pain in his cock now matching the throb in his testicles.

And then it happened. With a strangled cry that sounded like a mix of agony and ecstasy, Richard's cock exploded beneath her heel. The warmth of his cum spurted out, coating the floor, her eyes wide with a mix of amazement and triumph. She had never seen a man cum from such intense pain before, and the sight of it was exhilarating.

Trish's laugh was like a bell ringing in a silent monastery, pure and clear, echoing through the small office space. She watched as jets of cum shot out from under her stiletto, painting the floor in an abstract pattern of white sticky despair. It was a glorious mess, a testament to her power, and she couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of satisfaction.

With a final, cruel twist, she stepped off his now-limp cock. She took a moment to admire her handiwork, her breasts heaving in the tight confines of her bra, the lace damp with sweat from her exertion. "Looks like *Breasts Appreciation Day* has really gotten to you," she said. "I hope you enjoyed the show."

Trish took a step back, giving Richard's defeated form a final, appraising look. She took her time readjusting her bra, her breasts spilling out of the red cups as she tugged and pulled at the straps. Each movement sent a fresh wave of agony through Richard, his eyes glued to the spectacle despite the pain.

"You know, I really love *Breasts Appreciation Day*," she mused. "It's like Christmas for someone like me." She stepped over him and made her way to the door. "It's the one day a year where a girl can kick a bunch of dudes in the nuts and get away with it," she said with a giggle, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. "And the best part is, they all just sit there and take it."