19 comments/ 83525 views/ 5 favorites The Turning Ch. 01 By: greeneyeredhead I have been looking forward to today all week long. He is giving a party, just a few friends over to watch the game, but this time he has invited me, and my hopes are high. Ever since our first encounter I have been craving him. His firm demeanor and deep voice - commanding but gentle - has invaded my consciousness. He sees easily the effect he has on me, and teases me with it. He has brought me close to him and taught me to describe the intense feelings that I have. He has encouraged me to explore these feelings - to heighten them - to live at the fringe of desire - even to flirt with other men during the work week... but has instructed me to save my release for him. As I dress carefully for the party, I daydream about the day that sparks flew between us... * * * * * Hurried, on my way to the office, I've just torn myself away from a sex chat site. I give myself just enough time there to rev up, but not enough to satisfy. On a dare with another girl on the site, neither of us is wearing underwear today. We're both going commando. I giggle, feeling foolish and sexy at the same time. I've worn a skirt - long, but with a slit up the front - just to be sporting about it. My hand strays to my lap as I drive in, thinking about the strong-but-virtual hands that groped me this morning before work. I rub my fingers against the short hairs on my lips, feeling the electricity spark and loving it. Looking to the left and right, I decide that the other cars at the stoplight aren't paying attention, so I push my fingers further into the folds of my pussy and release the slickness that was bubbling there. My nipples are hard against my sweater-shirt as I tease my sopping hole. I'm 35, successful, put together, respected ... and horny all the damn time. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. It just doesn't go away. I'm not particularly well-suited to this condition, as I have spent years being straight-laced and proper, one of the "good girls". Then I started to wake up horny more and more often. I started to check out guys at the office, in the grocery store, at the gym ... and imagine how it would feel to hold onto their muscled arms as they work into me, grunting in my face and slamming it home. My panties are soaking wet by the end of the day, and I have these impulses.... This horny condition makes me clumsy. The light changes before I lose my concentration completely, so I continue down the road to work, and straighten my skirt with a naughty smile on my face. I bring my fingers to my lips and tentatively taste them. I'm starting to like the taste of my own juices, though I prefer the creamy cum from a nice cock. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I pull into the parking lot and head for the back of the parking lot. No chance of a space up front when you get in as late as I am today. I step out of the car and self-consciously adjust my skirt. It is tight enough to see that there are no panty lines today. The smooth material slides over my ass unhindered and the feeling is exquisite. Pulling my purse from the backseat, I lock the doors and head for the building. I can feel my breasts jiggling under my shirt as my heels tap along the sidewalk, and I hope nobody notices. And then I hope somebody does... The elevator door is just about to close when a hand reaches around to stop it. Happy that I don't have to wait for the next one, I smile gratefully around the corner ... and catch my breath. I've seen him before - tall, brown eyes, broad shoulders, no wedding ring... "The other elevator is broken ... Didn't want you to have to wait." "Thanks - that was nice of you", I stammer. I push the button for my floor and start to look forward to the long elevator ride - usually such a source of frustration, it may be a chance to get to know this man today. I've been checking him out for weeks. He is always so cool and collected; perfectly dressed. His face politely detached as he travels in and out of the building. He smiles, and I blush. It may be my imagination, but now I feel like he is checking me out, and suddenly, I feel naked under my clothes, like he can see my lack of under things as clearly as I can feel it. It's ridiculous, of course, the whole world doesn't revolve around me after all ... "I'm Ray" he says, extending his hand. Silly smile pasted on my face "I'm Michelle - nice to meet you" and I reach out to shake his hand. In an exaggeration of gallantry, which there is no mistaking now, he holds my fingers and pulls my hand up close to his lips. He has crossed the short space in the elevator to do so and the movement of my arm in my blouse pulls the material tight over my hard nipple. I'm too surprised at this turn of events to plan my reaction. He slowly and deliberately kisses the back of my hand while pinning me with his eyes - eyes that narrow with knowing as he moves my fingers closer to his nose. My stomach sinks as I realize he can smell sex on my fingers. My eyes go wide as I try to think of something to say - some explanation. What a thing to find on first meeting someone. He must think I'm horrible. He must think ... My thoughts are interrupted as he takes my other hand and brings it to my first. Holding my gaze, he takes both wrists in his right hand and pulls my arms above my head. He lifts my arms high above my head and pushes my wrists against the wall of the elevator, arching me backward. His face very close to mine, our bodies almost touching, he uses his left hand to brush lightly across my right nipple. Gasping, I'm shocked at his boldness, and instinctively offended. But I'm also horny as hell, and I've wanted to meet this man for weeks now. He knows all of this from my reaction. My body betrays me as I push my breasts toward his hands. The disconcerted look on my face shows him I am uncomfortable. But the lack of protest tells him all he needs to know - I am his for the taking. The bell dings as the elevator reaches my floor. He holds me with his right hand and his eyes. His expression is daring me to leave. I whimper, but I hold my ground, shaking. I can't even look away from his eyes to check who might be able to see me from the office. The elevator door closes, and he brushes my lips lightly with his. In this soft kiss he looks into my soul and manages to claim me more surely than if he had taken me roughly, although that comes later. My eyes close in surrender, and I swim in the delight of his lips nibbling lightly against mine. A moment later, the elevator slows, and bell dings again. He backs away and releases my right hand, but holds my left wrist loosely in a circle between his thumb and middle finger. His right pointer finger traces a possessive line along the back of my hand. He guides me with this one hand toward a single corner office at the end of the hall. He closes the door behind us and our privacy is complete - but for the floor to ceiling windows that look out on the city. My brain tries to protest ... "I have a meeting at nine". "You are going to miss it". He places the fingers of my right hand on my lips and shushes me, at the same time reminding me of the smell on my hands that brought me here to begin with. He leaves me stand in the middle of the office and walks in a circle around me, trailing a finger along my body as he goes. Behind me he traces his fingernail along my ass, noting my panty lines, conspicuous in their absence. Standing in front of me again, he takes my naughty right hand from my lips and sucks on my fingers. The realization that he is tasting me stabs at my lust-addled brain, and I moan slightly. The ache in my pussy becomes an insistent need, claiming my focus. My need is now mobilized, and I make the first moves I can claim as my own. He recognizes the change in me and watches my progress, amused. I move my left hand to his side, his hip, feeling the cut of his body, pleased to find him strong and tight under my touch. I reach behind him to cup his ass and he mirrors the movement. I gasp slightly as our bodies are pulled together and I feel the hard length of him pressed against my stomach. My mind focuses on his cock ... what does it look like? It feels like the perfect size - substantial, but not so fat that I can't get it past my teeth when I suck him. The thought surprises me, but only for a moment. I know now that I need to suck him. I truly love to suck cock. The taste, the texture, the feeling of power I get from giving pleasure, is heady, intoxicating. My mouth waters and my eyes blaze. I allow my knees to weaken and slide down his body, feeling his cock rub upward against me. I pause to rub my breasts back and forth over it, feeling the warmth on my nipples. He groans and grabs a handful of my hair, assisting my journey downward. I rub my face in his crotch, breathing in his scent, clean and pressed but slightly musky as it heats up. I find the tip of his cock with my lips and blow warm air through his trousers, biting lightly, and creating a damp spot where my tongue presses against him. With my face tight against him, I reach up to release his belt, unbutton, and unzip. I move south to his balls as I bring the zipper down, reluctant to be denied contact for even a brief moment. His pants slide beneath my lips and soon he is standing with just his boxers on, bulging obscenely. I move from squatting to kneeling, for comfort. I want this cock, and I want to do it right. "Give me your shirt", through ragged breaths. No question, that. Not a request. Compelled, but willing, I comply. Sitting back on my heels, I pull my shirt up and over my head, releasing my breasts. He can now see clearly what he had guessed at before. Generous freckled breasts, 38D, small hard sensitive pink nipples, areola blooming around them in a wide circle. I cup my hands beneath them, lifting them up and together, offering, teasing at the nipples, shooting electricity into my panty-free mound. He pulls his boxers down his hips clumsily, his hard penis catching at the material and impeding progress. He edges them over and down to his knees, and his cock head springs up to his navel. I look hungrily at my prize, and extend my tongue to lick at the balls, watching them clench and retreat as my tongue explores. I look up at him, past his cock to his face. The set of his mouth shows that he enjoys his control of me. I smile as I bathe the base of his cock with my tongue, enjoying the control I have of him. I lick wetly up the sides of his cock, teasingly avoiding the tip. I rub my face along the hard shaft, using my cheekbone to stroke him. He pulls more roughly on my hair, and I know he wants my mouth on his head. I straighten from the knee and reach up to lick at the head, mashing my breasts into his balls. He groans as I suck harder on the head and pull it out toward me with my mouth. I feel the pressure behind my ears as he pushes my head down onto his cock. My tongue bathes the shaft inside my mouth and the head hits the back of my throat. I bring my head back to catch my breath before he fucks into my face again. I reach behind to his ass for leverage, hanging on tight. I pull him toward me, taking him fully into my mouth, and pressing further. I'm so hungry for this. I want to know that I please him and I crave to taste the evidence. And as strange as it is that I am in this position so quickly, it doesn't seem strange to me at all. I am entranced by him. I want to engulf him, and so be engulfed. I breathe through my nose and open my throat to him as he slides further into my wanton mouth. I swallow onto his cock, gagging slightly but pushing further. My throat massages his head. He is wedged into me, impossibly tight, and my jaw begins to ache from opening so wide for so long. My gratification advances as I feel him swell in my throat and hear him groaning, nearly whining. His hands twist in my hair, holding himself deep in my throat. I swallow again, reflexively, and because I hope it will bring him to me. A guttural moan escapes him and his cum floods my mouth. Thick creamy lava pours into me so quickly I can't swallow it all. It runs out of my mouth and down my chin, dripping onto my tits. God I feel so sexy in this moment, with his hands tight on my hair, and his cock convulsing in my mouth, still sending jets of salty cream into me, more than I can drink. I feel the sticky wetness dripping down my face and imagine how I look. Wanton, sluttish, marked. He subsides in my mouth and caresses my hair more gently, recovering his composure. We use his cock to rub the cum into my face, up to my cheeks, before it dries. I suck and lick at his cock to clean him. He helps me to my feet and pierces me with his eyes again. "Sit on my desk, Michelle." Again, not a request. I begin to sit at the edge, and he shakes his head. "Don't sit on your skirt, you'll mess it up". His look indicates I should have known this. I shiver and slide my skirt up behind me. The sharp corner of the desk bites across my thigh as I sit bare-assed on the cool smooth wood. He reaches down to push my knees apart, and my skirt rides higher. Why I would be shy and embarrassed at this point, I can't imagine, but I feel naughty sitting here with my tits hanging out and my pussy nearly exposed. "Raise your skirt, and show yourself to me." The husky sound of his voice sends its message straight to my pussy, and I feel myself leak moisture onto the desk. Hands trembling, I raise my skirt the last few inches to reveal my dripping core. He moves his hand to cup my mound, squeezing lightly, and drawing a finger along my lips. He uses this wet finger to paint my lips, tempting me to taste my slickness. I lick along my lips and revel in the exposure of this to him. He takes my hem, and tucks it into the waistband so that my pussy remains bare and exposed without my hands. "You love this don't you, Michelle. You love sitting here with my cum running down your face, showing me your pussy. I bet your pussy is aching to be touched." I nod slowly, entranced, enraptured. "Then tell me. I want to hear you tell me how horny you are, how that pussy needs to be treated." I gasp, and take an unsteady breath. Stammering ... "Yes, I love it. I love your cum on my face. My nipples are ... so hard. My pussy ... drenched ... God it needs to be touched, caressed, teased..." "Mmmm, good girl." I blush warmly at his approval. "Show me how your pussy needs to be touched. Show me how your fingers got the scent on them this morning." A wicked grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Ohhh, god, please", a feeble protest. He wants me to show him my private pleasure. I am driven by the boldness of his request. My clit is on fire aching to be touched. "Show me." A firm tone. "Now." Gasping, I move my trembling right hand to my pussy and rub lightly at my clit. My right middle finger slides easily over the swollen nub, and I throw my head back with relief. God it feels so nice. I slowly pleasure myself while he watches my face, glancing down occasionally at my soggy fingers. My pleasure mounts, magnified by my exposure. My fingers pick up speed as they find their familiar rhythm. I moan lightly, bite my lower lip. "Stop, now." Still in that firm measured tone. My fingers pay no attention as they continue to play and strum at my clit. An amused smile crosses his face when he sees how I have transformed from shy to needy on this point so quickly. He gently but firmly takes my hands into his and holds them above my head. He uses his legs to spread my knees further, and he leans down to look at my quivering cunt. I strain to raise my hips to his mouth, and I hear him chuckle at my predicament. His amusement as he plays unhinges my brain. I'm so horny, I would do anything for him, and he can see that clearly. He knows the power he wields. He spreads my legs wider - a bit uncomfortable now - and brings his again hardened cock to my clit to rub it. The hot soft skin on my clit sends me writhing. He holds the base of his cock, and draws back slightly. Looking straight into my eyes he spanks my clit with his hardness, taking in my startled pleasure, enjoying my need. Stepping back again, he releases my hands and points at my pussy. "Again ... but listen to me next time" Nodding, frenzied with desire, beyond caring how desperate I look, I thrum again at my swollen abused clit, and dip into the sopping wetness with two fingers, pulling and stretching at the sensitive skin. Pushing deep into myself, tiggling at my clit, my body tenses, and my thighs tighten against his hands. "Stop, now." The low voice issues its command. Whimpering and crying out, so close to climax, I don't even know how to stop. Three seconds elapse before I realize he has moved away from me, and my shirt is in a pile on my chest. Shocked into the moment ... I see him standing away from me, frowning. "Get dressed and go." Butterflies in my stomach, I look up, I gasp, I ask him "What? Why?" Shaking like a leaf. I am near tears. "You will either follow my directions, or you will go." Clear. Succinct. Bitingly cruel. Then his face softens somewhat. "Your cum belongs to me. I have my intentions, and I will decide whether to let you cum or not. You will follow my direction, and trust me to make this call, or you will leave. I won't force you into anything, but I will have your complete cooperation." "Do you think you can behave?" He studies my face. No bluffing. My mind is reeling, tumbling headlong into the rabbit hole. My aching pussy dripping, on fire, casts its vote. I mumble, I nod... "yes" and in this moment I know I have given over the last of my control. My trust is complete. "Yes, what?... I need to know that you understand completely..." He pushes me. Collecting my wits, focusing on my reply "Yes, I understand that I will follow your directions, and I will be allowed to cum at your discretion. Please don't make me leave." Amazing how fear can focus you. Adrenaline pumps through my body. "Mmmm, good girl." His smile returns, and my relief is palpable. He knows I am his now. He has obtained my complete surrender. He moves back toward me, and removes my shirt from my stomach. He places my hands at my breasts, showing me how to offer them up for his lips. He licks, sucks, teases and devours my full breasts. His hot tongue on my nipples sends excitement gushing from my pussy. "What do you want, baby?" That wicked smile returns. "Ohhh, god... please .. I want you to make me cum ... let me cum ... I want to cum for you please... oh god don't make me wait.. please please please" the words tumble from my mouth in a torrent. "Mmm such a needy little girl ... you do beg so nicely" He growls in my ear. He reaches down to rub his cock at my clit again, sliding easily across the slick skin. He moves it slowly and deliberately across my button, knowing I am completely focused on this movement. "You want to cum baby? You sure you can be good?" "Ahhhhhh god yes ... I can be good, I can be good. Oh god pleeeasseee!!" "Mmm good ... cum for me baby... cum on my cock" He bites on my tensed neck muscles. My body shudders and bucks against him .... Three, four, five times ... my soul sailing as my body follows. My thighs clenching hard, feeling the strain, feeling his mouth on my neck, giving him my cum, giving him everything. His hands holding and supporting me as I turn to jelly. Panting, sweating, melting into his arms, he pulls back hard on my hair and lifts my face to his, kissing my lips hard. I kiss back, my sore jaws smiling. I feel his hand at my pussy as he takes a dollop of my cum and smears it on my tits. He looks intently into my eyes. "You may have to clean your face to go to work today, but you will not clean this from your tits, understood?" Nodding my agreement, I look at the sticky wetness on my tits and feel it start to dry, aware that the tightness on my chest will remind me of this moment all day. The Turning Ch. 01 The first night of my turning was like any other in my post-college life. I got home late from another late night from the advertising firm of Walker & Pete where I worked as a junior advertising executive. I kicked off my sensible heels and tiredly strode into my bedroom where I stripped off my work uniform. This was not accomplished with the sexy tease of my misspent college years when I worked as a stripper. Instead I peeled off the conservative gray skirt suit with all the finesse of a sleepy 25-year-old young professional. What was sexy was the black lace push-up bra that cradled my 36C breasts, matching thong and garter belt that held up my black thigh highs. I had dressed all seductively for Eric, my boyfriend, since we had plans to go out. At least we had plans to go out until he e-mailed me that he would be working very late and would have to reschedule. I was thinking about my disappointment and weighing the pros and cons of sleeping versus masturbating as I unhooked the bra and let it fall onto my bed. As the chill of my apartment bit into my nipples I was startled by a quiet knock at the door of my apartment. I threw on a robe, a silk Chinese styled number my brother had picked up for me during a port call in Hong Kong. I opened my door expecting to be pleasantly surprised by Eric; he could be such a romantic! Instead an older gentleman, who appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties, greeted me. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit and his hair and hands were obviously carefully manicured. I noticed that he was pale, as if he came from northeastern Europe and only saw the Sun once every six months. He spoke in a very formal mode of English in a heavy accent that sounded like a mixture of European and Middle Eastern training. "Excuse me, dear Miss. But my automobile has suffered some mechanical problems. May I trouble you for your telephone?" I stared, bound by his marvelous marble gray eyes and could do nothing from uttering a coarse "Uh-huh" and stepping out of his way. As he passed by me I felt an icy shudder that sent waves of excitement throughout my body, moistening my cunt and erecting my nipples. "L...let" I hadn't stumbled when speaking to a boy since high school, and I felt supremely embarrassed. "Let me show you where it is." Once I made the offer he stopped and turned around and smiled at me. It was then that I noticed his fangs. A shudder of fear rippled through me, but this only served to heighten my excitement. He took a step towards me and placed one hand, confidently like he was stroking a new pet, on my cheek. I closed my eyes, sighed deeply and followed his hand with my cheek as he pulled his hand away; turning my face so fluidly and elegantly that I was not aware that I was presenting my neck to him. "Ah...what a beautiful neck you have young one. The great masters themselves would have fought to the death to paint your long, slender neck." As visions of Leonardo and Michelangelo fighting to a bloody end invaded my mind I felt his cold breath on my neck followed by his cold yet supple lips as he traced a path up to my ear. "What is your name?" He whispered in my ear. "Ka...Kallisti, my Liege." Even in my stupor I wondered why I was starting to use such a formal tone. His hands traced paths around my body, yet he did not try to reach inside my robe. I was pretty sure that I would do nothing to stop such an advance. "Ah...the mythical golden apple of beauty. You are aptly named my dear." His voice rang in my head as he moved away from my ear and back down to my neck. Once again I felt his lips, and then the gentle tickle of his fangs as he explored for the perfect spot. Then, in a flash I felt the searing pain of a predator's teeth seeking into his prey's flesh. I felt my blood flow, feeding his need and hunger. Finally he slipped his hands into my robe and deftly pushed it off my shoulders, letting it float gently to the ground. He was surprisingly gentle with my body; caressing the small of my back, teasing my nipples with his fingertips or lightly spanking my ass. After about fifteen minutes of providing both food and entertainment my world slipped into darkness. I came to only a short time later in my bed, old bandages tight around my neck. I could feel him in bed with me, removing my panties and exploring my pussy mound. Another hand admired my stocking clad feet. As I slowly became more aware I found my voice again. "Wh...who are you?" I asked meekly. He smiled seductively. "I am Barron Eduard, Vassal of Vladimir Dracul." He pulled his face away from my waist and stared into my face. His hand moved from my legs to pinch my left nipple, but his other fingers did not leave my cunt. Rather, I could feel them search out and find my clitoral hood. "Oh my dear young one. I have searched far for one such as you. I have been so lonely since Vlad started his long sleep. I have searched the centuries for another Contessa and now I have found you." "Contessa?" I asked, strength returning to my voice. "Yes. She was my wife...once. But ignorant and superstitious villagers killed her shortly after we were turned. You have her beauty." "Wh...what are you going to do with me?" I asked, fearing the answer. "That is up to you my sweet. You can either give yourself to me for the next two months and become my queen or you can resist and feed me tonight." He smiled and I could see my blood glistening on his teeth. I tried to move, but could not since I had been four point tied to my canopy bedposts. I sighed deeply. He saw me test my bindings and grinned, obviously amused. "You are too weak after my tasting. I could free you and you would be just as defenseless. But the shackles give it a certain ambiance, do you disagree?" "N...no my Liege. I...I give myself to you." I said. He smiled and leaned into my face and for a moment I feared his bite, instead he kissed me full on the lips sliding his tongue smoothly into my mouth. The taste of my blood and his six hundred undead years disgusted me, but I let him kiss and slide two fingers into my pussy. Soon he was naked, his flesh cold yet alive next to my body. His penis was hard and firm against my hip; it was amazingly long and had an impressive girth. He slid almost like a snake on top of me and positioned himself between my spread open legs. I cried in pain as he penetrated me, thrusting in deep and pulling out slow for the first seconds until he had my cunt stretched to point he was comfortable, but it still hurt for me. Then, gradually, he began pumping harder and faster into me. Soon he was pounding into my body, and my twat was no longer sore from his penetrations. In fact as I got used to the pain, it slowly began to morph into pleasure. I began feeling the deep urge to break free from my chains and wrap my arms and legs around this carnal creature that was fucking me so well. This unfortunately was impossible; my restraints were far to strong for a woman like me to break. Then just as I felt myself start to cum he pulled out and quickly shoved his cock in my face. His ejaculation was long and covered my face with foul smelling and tasting cum. He laughed as he watched my face contort in disgust as the cum oozed into my mouth. Then he slid off the bed and began getting dressed. Once dressed he slid onto the bed next to me, close enough to whisper in my ear. "To our minions you shall be known as Queen Kallisti the First. As for me, I shall address you as slave kalli. You are to call me Sir, Master or Liege. Do you understand?" He twisted a nipple, adding a physical punctuation to his question. "Yes, Master." I whispered from exhaustion. "Good." He croaked as he stood. "I shall arrange for my familiar to come release you in the morning. Now sleep my young one. We have an eternity together." As if on cue I descended into blackness as he issued his orders. To be continued... The Turning Ch. 02 Three hours later, I sit fidgeting at my desk, watching the clock. I have shown a marked lack of concentration today. Endorphins swim through my head and turn the pages and numbers upside down. I can't work. Hell, I could hardly eat lunch! My brain is still reeling from the morning's events. How did that happen? Did I actually beg him to let me cum? Did I actually go down on him in his office after we had said a total of maybe 20 words to each other? Shaking my head, trying to push away the visions, I moan under my breath. The images keep coming to me, unbidden. Much as I try to concentrate, I can still see his cock inches from my face and advancing. The veins are full and defined, and I feel my mouth water as I imagine the taste of his creamy white semen. Thinking back, I recognize my first surrender as when his clear blue eyes challenged me to look away on the elevator. I couldn't, or I wouldn't. I pressed further into uncharted waters, my pride moving me along strange currents. Shivering, I recalled the feeling, exposed and abandoned, when he stood in front of me, and told me to go. I relived the desperate clutch I felt as I craved to stay, to please him, at any price. Shakily I stepped out onto the thinnest ice, with only the hope that I would not be rejected. My will was broken in that moment, and the look on his face showed that he knew it as clearly as I did. He watched me give to him a measure of control that I have always reserved as my own, and I could see that he relished the moment. The click of understanding in my brain was audible to us both. I rub my thighs together to try to relieve the pressure. Although I have been to the bathroom to clean up three times in the last three hours, I can feel my pussy leaking moisture again. And I'm not wearing any panties. Shaking my head in disbelief - what a day to go without panties! But that was part of it all, I remind myself. If I hadn't gone "commando", I wouldn't have been touching myself on the way to work. Rolling my eyes, I listen to myself ramble on in my own head. I push back from the desk and try to straighten my blouse. The material tends to catch on the spot where my own cum is pasted on my breast. I know it's not really noticeable, but it makes me shiver anyway. And the shivering makes my nipples hard. I watch helplessly as they point out from my breasts in tiny peaks. I can't help but rub them against the edge of my desk, agitating my already wired state. I know this isn't helping my condition, but the logic-override switch has been thrown today. Squirming in my chair and pressing against my desk, I feel my pussy blossom again as juices escape my slit and make their way to my thighs. I need to go clean up again before I ruin this skirt. I make my way to the bathroom, again, and I see my co-worker, Rick knitting his brow over his work. Walking past, I get that "being-watched" feeling. I'm sure it's my nerves. Gawd, could I BE more self-centered? I shake my head and remind myself that just because I am acting like an unglued slut today, that doesn't mean that this is everyone else's issue of the day. I continue to the bathroom, enter a stall, and use the tissues to wipe away the spreading moisture. My thighs and lips are drenched. I tentatively use one finger to draw up and along the inner folds of my slit and bring it to my mouth. I am pleased with my taste today - the abundant flow of moisture has made the taste light and slightly sweet. I am oddly pleased to know that he has tasted me on a "good" day. Shaking my head, god I am a sick girl. I bite ineffectually in the air, trying gain purchase on reality, and hear the "click click" of my teeth hollow in my ears. I eventually complete my cleanup and exit the bathroom. Walking past Rick again, I stop to see what has him looking so frustrated. Heh. Not that I'm likely to be any help in this state, but sometimes it helps to bounce your ideas off someone else. "Hey Rick" "Hey Michelle" Is he looking at my tits? Naaaah. I lean against his desk, and feel the hard corner bite into my thigh. I shake off the feeling of deja-vu and lean over to peer at his papers. "What are you working on?" He starts to explain the problem to me, and where he is in solving it, but my mind starts to wander. I look at his hands as he sketches a quick process map. He has large thick hands with rough skin. I recall that he spends a lot of time working on his car, and I wonder how his hands would feel on my skin. I shake my head, willing myself to focus on his drawing and ask a suitably coherent question. He looks up from the paper into my eyes as I pose my question, but his eyes flicker to my breasts a time or two... and I flush. He knows. He knows I'm not wearing a bra. The sheer knowledge of this causes my nipples harden again and push against the thin material. Desperate to do something to distract him from my tits, I lean over to reach for his pen so I can further illustrate my question by making marks on his map. I feel my breasts sway and wiggle as I lean. I expect him to offer the pen in his hand, but he holds it firmly as I try to take it. I look in his eyes as he holds onto my thumb for one long electric moment before releasing the pen into my hand. Breathing slightly elevated, I remind myself of the reason I am here. Process map. Focus, Michelle. Paying attention to my movement, he turns his head toward the paper, moving his face closer to my chest in the process. I can almost feel his breath on me. Oh god! Now I have to continue on with my question in earnest in order to be convincing that I am not purposefully flaunting myself. I jot and draw arrows, and actually surprise myself by illustrating a point that has some merit. Gaining confidence, I look at his face, and he is staring directly at my tits, inches from his face. It seems two other points have his attention. The leaning and jotting has caused my shirt to shift, and the outline of my nipples is clear. Trembling, I watch them grow even harder under his gaze. Without missing a beat, he reaches for my hand and takes back his pen, sliding along my fingers unnecessarily as he does so. Moving his face almost imperceptibly, his lips pointed toward my right nipple, he responds to my question. He elaborates on the point I made, thanks me for bringing it up, and verbalizes how the design could be altered to accommodate. I feel his hot breath on my nipple as he speaks, and the tingling grows stronger in my pussy. When he finishes speaking, I nervously straighten, and he raises his eyes to my face, grinning. Shaky sigh. "Well, that sounds like that will work, then." "Yes, I think it will. Lucky thing you stopped by when you did" grin broadens. Haltingly, "Oh, yes, I was ... I know it can be hard to work through the logic on your own sometimes. I thought maybe I could lend a hand" God, why does everything I say come out sounding suggestive? He stifles a chuckle. "Please feel free to lend a hand anytime." I flush a deep red, open my mouth to say something, and close it again, completely flustered. He seems to be enjoying this. I am not known to be a quiet girl. He is eating it up that I am standing there at a loss for words. "Um, OK, that sounds good" I reply automatically, realizing barely, and too late, that this sounded like a promise. "I mean... um... I gotta go now". He watches me step back and out of his office, making my way down the hallway in a slight daze. I steal a glance back down the hall, and see him making his way to one of the conference rooms. He reached down and adjusts himself with a huge smile on his face. Oh my god. What was he thinking? What was I thinking? I must not be very bright ... how could I have made the mistake of stopping by Rick's office in this state? He probably thinks I was hitting on him. I mean, he is great looking and all that, very tall, big strong hands, a large frame. And, yes, I have wondered if he is proportionally built, ahem, in all departments. (Is it hot in here?) But he never seemed like my type, really. Sure, he's a damn good engineer, but he's sort of gruff and coarse, and belongs to a motorcycle club. He probably has tattoos and drinks too much beer. I've always been a white-wine-in-a-crystal-glass kind of a girl, unless, of course, there is champagne available. Is it possible to have gotten even hornier since this morning? My mind whirling, thinking again of my chat with Rick... this is how rumors get started. There is of course another more pressing issue that I have to consider. It is after 3:30, and I am fence-sitting on whether to go meet Ray or not. Did I even ask his last name? Who is this guy? Jesus ... there is definitely something wrong with me. This morning's encounter was one of the most intense I have ever experienced. But I know in my heart that going to meet him tonight would be a different sort of step. Did I say my heart? I think it goes deeper than that, to the primal places that know fear and safety. How can I not go? The idea of more time spent with this man is intoxicating. I rub my aching jaw, relishing the soreness that reminds me of the encounter. I reach into my blouse to feel the flaking remnants of my cum, and sigh with that memory as well. I briefly re-live the shock of finding my shirt on my stomach, shudder, and push that thought away. I don't ever want to feel that way again, and I know that going to him this afternoon opens up the possibility unless I do as he asks. Then I hear his voice, low and growling in my ear. "Good girl" Maybe I can do it. Maybe I can follow his lead. Maybe I can play right. God, I crave his voice. It's just that sort of day, so I decide I will go, thinking to myself that I can always back out later if this is too much for me. I look at my watch, and realize I have less than half an hour to shut down and get upstairs. Chuckling, I've spent way too much time drifting through these memories. I have three email responses to get out before I go, and that always takes more time than you think it will. Suddenly a frenzy of productivity, I bang out the emails and tidy up my desk by 16:55. Ten minutes to go up eight floors - I should be fine. It may not seem obvious at first, but in a tall office building with only one working elevator, the prevalent direction for travel at this time of day is down. Pushing the up arrow button was not a popular move. I get a dirty look from a couple of girls in our office ... and when the doors open, there is a crush of people inside. 16:58. Does this building have stairs? Casting my eyes around, brow knitting, I locate the stair entrance and make my way up. My heels make a hollow click as I ascend. Though I'm in decent shape, eight floors is still enough to flush me a bit, and I am grateful to stop climbing. My hand pulls on the handle ... Shit! The door is locked. Exit only. 17:02. I knock on the door, banging more and more loudly. After a fleeting eternity a man's face appears in the square window, wearing a puzzled look with his button down shirt and tie. I motion for him to open the door and he takes his time deciding on that. What, does he think I'm a corporate spy or something? He opens the door, "Can I help you?" "Hi - yes- thanks. I'm just meeting a friend here after work." This man is about six feet tall, and is nearly blocking the whole door. I turn to my side and slide past him, raking my swollen nipples across his arm in my haste. I hurry down the hall and knock urgently at Ray's door, checking my watch. 17:06. Close enough, right? Ray opens the door and looks at me impassively. The man from the stairwell walks up behind me. "Hey there, Ray, she kind of slipped past me. Is she here to see you?" "Hi Blake. She is. She's late though." Butterflies in the pit of my stomach, I can feel the blood draining from my face. This can't be happening. "Heh. That explains why she ran past me then. No manners at all." Smirking. "Tsk tsk ... no manners, eh? It doesn't surprise me. She is willful." Thin smile. Oh my god - talking about me like I'm not even here. I feel small. I shrink. Blake nods. "You going to take care of her then? Can't have her wandering around by herself up here." Hands on his hips. "Yes, I will take her from here. Sorry about her behavior." Knowing smile, "It's alright Ray. Just make sure she doesn't do it again." What on earth had I done? "Heh. No worries. I'll talk to her." Blake walked away down the hall, and I stood outside the office door, slightly confused. "Show me your tits". Low and calm. Looking around, nervous, but more nervous not to, I raise my shirt to show him my breasts. He reaches out his hand to touch the spot where my cum is stuck to me. Seemingly satisfied, he steps back and brings me into the room. He points to a spot on his office floor that has an X marked with masking tape, and guides me to stand there. I am adjusting my shirt but he stops me ... and tells me to put my hands at my sides. I am peripherally aware of his office door still open. His office is at the end of the hallway, not in a high traffic area, but I still feel the risk. He circles around me, as he did when I first came to his office (though I don't remember this X on the floor- is it new?). He slowly takes stock of me, brushing his hands over my breasts, but avoiding my hard nipples. I feel them ache and strain for him. "How did it feel to have your cum splattered on your tits all day, Michelle?" He openly appraises my exposed breasts and tight nipples, staring at me, unhurried. Stammering, aware of the air conditioned coolness and the open door, "It felt ... god, it felt so sexy ... so naughty. I felt like .... ", searching for the words. "Slutty, Michelle? Like a slut with your own cum pasted to your tits?" Shaky, trembling, "Yes - like that, yes" "Say it for me" Desire white hot in my head, I whisper, "It made me feel like a slut" "Mmmmmm, good girl" My juices run hot and wet. "You look like a good little slut too with your tits out and your arms at your sides. Did anyone else smell the sex on you today?" He casually pulls the door shut. Relief floods my brain for a second or two until I process his last question. Oh god. Rick. Could he smell me? I know he got an eyeful of hard nipples, but did he smell me too? Ray thoughtfully watches me, a smile playing on his lips. He stands close behind me, not touching me, his voice hot in my ear. "Tell me, Michelle, tell me who else smelled my little slut today". "I... I don't know." Sternly. "Michelle!" "I mean, I don't know if he did." Sighing, I recounted my 'meeting' with Rick earlier. He chuckled, his breath tickling. "So tell me Michelle. Do you often run around with no panties on?" Jesus, he knew just how to pry at me. "No. I don't... I just sort of agreed to do it this morning while chatting with a girlfriend of mine online." I sound like a complete ninny. "Oooh, a girlfriend? Go on" smiling. "Oh god ... not like that ... I mean ... she's beautiful ...but we aren't ... I mean we haven't even ...", sighing "She is an online friend, and we are not... um... intimate." Chuckling, "You sound nervous. I like that." I hear the grin in his voice. "Tell me. Why are you here now? Why did you return to me this afternoon?" I can only be honest. My brain has no capacity for subterfuge at this point. "I'm here because ... I couldn't stay away. I was so horny." I blush furiously to admit this. "I mean ... I was curious ... I don't know ..." Laughing, "I think the first was more accurate, Michelle" I shiver. "Tell me now, what time did you get here?" Quaking. "I ... um ..." "Don't lie to me Michelle ... I promise, you don't want to do that." "Oh god ... it was ... 5:06 actually", trembling. "Good girl, Michelle. Always be honest with me. So, I take it that even though you have arrived late, you are hoping that we can continue to get to know one another, and not go back to being strangers on the elevator?" Whispering, "Yes" "Yes what ... be specific, please." "Oh dear ... I do want that ... I want to get to know you more" blushing red. Nods, "But you do understand that you were late, and so now I may not agree to it." Dumbfounded, with naked tits, feeling exposed and vulnerable ... he may not agree? In all my imagination I never expected this. Reading my face, he smiles and chuckles. "Well, you have been honest ... which is a requirement above all ... so I think I will give you the opportunity to make up for the minute that you were late." My mind races ... make up for? I never expected this ... He motions me over to his desk ... to the same spot I sat in for him earlier. He leans me back against the hard edge, and I feel it hit the same tender spot on my thighs. The recollection of my earlier exposure causes a rushing noise in my ears. "Sit up here on my desk again ... and show me how wet you are right now. If you are not wet, then perhaps this isn't working for you." Trembling, I know I am soaked, that my thighs are sticky with my juices, and that he will plainly see how much this is 'working' for me. I sit on the desk, remembering to raise my skirt up behind me this time (yes, I can learn), and slowly lift the front of my skirt. My sticky wet thighs come into view first, followed by my glistening mound. He smiles appreciatively at the sight of me, and tucks the hem of my skirt into the waist band. "Touch yourself for me, Michelle, like you did this morning. But remember to stop when I tell you to. This is how you will make up for your late minute, and prove to me that you are ready for more." Such luck! He's already seen me do this, so the exposure seems less this time. I happily touch myself for him. Enjoying the tremors of pleasure as my soggy fingers work. I spread my lips with my pointer and fourth fingers and let my middle finger slide over my hard clit. As I toy with myself, he begins to talk to me. "Good girl, Michelle. Rub that pretty clit for me, and I will tell you a few of my expectations for you. First of all, manners. When you come to visit me here, you will call all of my colleagues on this floor by Sir or Ma'am. It is a sign of respect, of course. No, baby, don't slow down yet ... keep rubbing that clit for me. Good girl. So, when you see Blake again, you will call him Sir, as an indication of respect. You are showing respect for me by doing this, by respecting my friends and colleagues, anyone who you meet through me, anyone in my world. Nod once if you understand this, Michelle." I nod, and continue to play at my pussy for him. I feel a bit surreal as he explains further to me. The mucus from my pussy is slick under my fingers. "Good. Now when you first talk to Blake, you will not look into his eyes. That would be a bit presumptuous for a girl in your position. You will look at his crotch. The same goes for any of my other colleagues which you happen to meet. Heh, you may even notice some things which make your little pussy damp. Once he calls you by your name, you can look into his eyes. But if he doesn't call you by name, if he calls you 'slut' or some other name, you need to keep looking at his crotch, like a good little slut. Nod once, again, if you understand me." I nod again, and feel the fire in my pussy as he over-uses the word slut. Such a dirty word, but the way he says it, it sounds so dear. Slut as a term of affection? My pussy tingles under my fingers as I listen to his low strong voice and agree. "When you come into my office, I want you to go to that spot on the floor, the one I marked for you. Face toward the painting there on the wall, and wait for me to inspect you and address you. You will do this regardless of who is in the office with me, and you will not speak. Nod again for me, slut. Show me you understand." The Turning Ch. 02 I gasp as he looks again for my agreement, and his voice becomes more gruff. I nod, and feel my body trembling. On another plane, my mind registers "regardless of who..." and spins into oblivion. "Mmmmm, you like when I call you a slut, don't you Michelle. I can see that you do. It makes that pussy of yours so needy, doesn't it? I know it does. Your tits are shaking nicely as you strum at yourself. Pretty as a picture." He grins slyly. "You can stop touching yourself now, slut. Move your hands away." Firmly. "Now." How I was able to do this, I'll never know. Perhaps the nervousness helped. Perhaps I was starting to feel self-conscious about his expectations. All I know is that I did it, I stopped. I wanted more from him so badly. I wanted his approval. I wanted his cock. "Mmmmm good girl, Michelle. You are learning. You are learning to be a good little slut. I am very impressed." His grin looks pleased, but also hard, wicked. My pussy juices are puddled on his desktop. "Lovely wet frustrated pussy. I like you this way. I plan to keep you on the edge as much as possible. I want you to understand that." Basking in his approval, but still wanting so much more, I reach out to him. He takes my hands in his, and pulls them to his lips for a kiss. Softly, gently, he kisses my hands and looks into my eyes. "Michelle, I'm going to ask something else of you. Pay attention, honey, because this is important." His eyes fix on mine as he talks, ensuring my complete attention. "Of all the expectations I have explained, this one is the most important." I nod silently, lost in his eyes. "I want you to save your orgasms for me, Michelle. I know that you touch yourself, and I wouldn't ever ask you to stop that, of course. What I want is that you don't masturbate to the point of orgasm unless I allow it. Take a minute or two to appreciate this. Stop for a moment and concentrate on the ache in your pussy right now. I don't plan on letting you cum for me tonight, Michelle. I want to see if you are strong enough for this. There are so many places I can take you, Michelle, but I need to know you will be focused and compliant." His voice is hypnotic in my ears, low and calm and soothing, promising so many delights. His blue eyes search mine, looking for any flicker of doubt. At my core, all I want is to please this man. All I want is more of his voice, his touch, and his eyes on me. "I can see that you are considering this, that you want it. I am pleased. I won't take your answer now, but when I next see you, I will look at you, and I will know if you have been successful in this task, or if you have chosen easy solitary pleasure over what I offer." I whimper, gazing into his eyes, essentially naked and brimming with need. My lust addled brain registers that he doesn't want me to cum. This is some kind of test of strength. Burning though I am, I am also never one to back down from a challenge, I steel myself and look back at him. He chuckles, noting the determined set of my jaw, and pointedly looks at my exposed flesh. "You look so beautiful this way, Michelle. Your face is flushed. Your nipples and pussy are swollen with desire. This is how I want you. This is how I want you to be for me all the time." Something crazy in me has responded to this man, and won't let me back down now. Something makes me want to rise to this challenge, no matter how strange it seems, no matter how counter to my pleasure. So I decide right here, in my mind, to do this. I decide to hold my orgasms. I know it will be hard, and I'm not entirely sure I can actually do it, but for some reason I want to, for him. He looks at me, smiling, reaches up to tweak at my nipples, and tells me to compose myself, go home, and dream about him. "Oh god. Okay, I can do this, I can do this." Breathless, "When will I see you again?" "Give me your cell phone number and your email address. I will call or send you a message. I will let you know when to come back. Do not come here unless I call for you. Do you understand that?" He waits, I nod. "I bring clients to this office, and I won't have you coming around unless I call for you. I'll give you at least 15 minutes to respond to me, but it could be at any time." I am standing now, dressed, composed, but all of my senses are vibrating at a low hum. He pulls me to him in a warm hug that wholly encompasses me. The burning need in my pussy is slightly assuaged by the sense of care I feel in this embrace. I am held. I am precious. I am kept. I am held dear. He lifts my face to his with his finger, and kisses me softly, slowly, deeply. This deep slow tender kiss is more intimate than anything else we have yet shared. My heart melts in this kiss, and gives me the strength to do anything, everything. Special thanks to OmegaZone for helping to edit my stories, and to all those who have encouraged me as I continue to explore .... kisses ... Green