<div class="floatright">(https://i.postimg.cc/wMvj12Mp/17170817-short-haircuts-for-girls.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>Riley Reyes</strong></span><br/><strong>Location:</strong>her office<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Ricky<br/><hr/><br/>"No, don't say-gah!" - the psychologist was frantically deflecting her assailant's apparent train of thought when their encounter rose to another level. Pushed back onto the desk, Riley was losing hope that this could be deescalated. She groaned in protest and tightened her not entirely flat, and most assuredly not muscular stomach, as it became exposed and licked. Hands covering her tits, the white haired woman wiggled against the lustful assault, her heels digging black lines in the wooden floor as her eyes darted around for something, anything, that could help.<br/><br/>Unfortunately, the habit of cleaning the desk before admitting patients backfired, and in a big way - there was nothing to grab and hit the damn futanari with! Because, quite frankly, she would if she could. This was officially FUBAR and Riley could, at best, save herself from being stuffed with Ricky's cock, balls deep.<br/><br/>However, there was one thing she could do. Taking advantage of their relative position, Riley gambled and pushed Ricky's head down, to her cooch, and spread her thighs a little bit. Hoping for a lustful reaction, she waited only for a moment - in order to avoid being forcibly exposed down there - before her left heel dug into the floor, and she propelled her right knee straight into the futanari's crotch, then repeated two more times. Only when Ricky's relentless assault was put to a halt due to what seemed like severe pain, did she shove the girl away, with both hands, and tried to make a run to her private room - the closest pair of doors with a functioning lock.<br/><br/>Throwing a not entirely aimed punch towards' Ricky's sternum, just like they taught on self defence lessons to buy her more time, Riley ran for it, and skid to a halt by the doors, before hastily opening them and nearly jumping inside. Now in the relative safety of her room, she fumbled with the keys from her pocket and, with really shaky hands, managed to turn the appropriate one in the lock, closing the wooden doors shut.<br/><br/>Her head was pounding like a telltale of some seriously bad migraine, in tandem with her heart which was clearly not used to beating at such tempo. Riley slumped against the doors, exhausted, feeling that it's not over yet. Just a break. Either Ricky calms down, or she'll have to actually call the security. Thankfully, her self diagnosed fear of missing out meant that she never parted with her phone, it's comforting weight resting against her hip, secured in one of her jacket's many pockets. But first, she had to give Ricky one last chance before she gave her a death sentence - which it basically was if she was expelled.<br/><br/>"Ricky?! Calm down and talk to me, or I'm calling the security! Jack off if you want but I'm not coming out until you're calm or cuffed, your call girl!"