2 comments/ 43180 views/ 3 favorites Suzanne Ch. 01 By: StoryTeller07 Chapter 01 A young woman is spanked Her friend Barbara was out, and in a huff Suzanne backed out of the drive, without looking carefully enough. She crashed straight into a passing car. Barbara's neighbour was a tough, no nonsense looking older man. He looked to be in his late forties, whereas she was a young looking twenty-six. Suzanne felt a fool. The thought of telling her husband about another accident, kept circulating through her mind. The insurance had expired last week, so this would cost them dearly. The money was one thing, though it was the image of her husband's angry rebuke that chilled her the most. "I'm really sorry, sir," Suzanne began saying. It was imperative to get him onside, by gaining some sympathy. James angrily cut her short. "You should be. Both doors are damaged and the back wing. I'll be without a car for the next few weeks, while this is repaired!" "You had better come in so we can sort out the paperwork," he told her. Suzanne trotted along behind on high heels, trying to keep up with his long strides. She was reminded of her father, who was a similar strong character, which didn't help if she was going to try to be assertive. In a spare bedroom he used as a study, she stood before him, not invited to sit down. She felt like an errant schoolgirl facing the wrath of a high school principal. He had her name, address, and vehicle details, by asking quick precise questions. The note pad was filling with neat handwriting, as he described the accident. "Insurance details," James demanded, in the same precise, unfriendly manner. She squirmed on the spot, feeling foolish over forgetting to renew the insurance. Jim would be furious when he got the bill. She knew it would be impossible to tell him until it arrived. He would be even angrier that she hid it from him. "Stand still. Just tell me, or get them from your car," James said. "I. Err. I don't have insurance, sir," she stammered, trying to be polite and winsome. He gave her a withering look, forcing out an explanation. "I'm sorry, sir. I forgot to renew it last week. I meant to, but it slipped my mind. There are so many things to do and I did get the paperwork ready, its pinned to the notice board in the kitchen," she blurted out. "Stop that babble right now, young lady. Take a deep breath, and calm down. Now, just tell me how you are going to pay for the repairs. No. One word will do, cash, cheque, or credit card?" he asked. "Instalments?" she timidly asked. "What? Does that mean you don't have the means to pay?" he gruffly asked. All Suzanne could do was nod in agreement. She felt such a fool in front of this forceful man, it pushed her deeper into feeling like a foolish schoolgirl. "What about your husband?" he asked. "Please, sir, I don't want him to find out. Could we keep this between ourselves, please," she asked. The little miss innocent act was more of a necessity than ever. "I don't know what instalment arrangement you had in mind, but how do I know you will keep up the payments. Your administration and financial arrangements seem to be deplorable," he stated. He was looking at her with disdain. She felt humiliated and vulnerable under his fierce scrutiny. The criticism of her affairs was too accurate to deny, leaving her little to say. She stood there like a fool, under his stare, wondering what to say. As though in class, she put her hand up, with an eager look on her face. When he nodded assent, she blurted out an idea. "Perhaps I could do something for you, sir. Kind of, work the payment off, maybe?" she asked, and shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what to suggest. "What can you do?" James asked, with a sigh of exasperation. "Err, I can cook, and clean house," she brightly suggested. Since leaving high school she hadn't worked, as Jim wanted her at home. It meant she had no other experience to offer. It came home to her how dependent she was on Jim. Besides receiving a household allowance, he took care of everything. After the little bumps in the car, he made her deal with the insurance renewal, telling her to be more responsible. She messed that up big time. "So you want me to take you on as a maid, until you pay back the repair bills?" he gruffly asked. "Yes please, sir," she blurted out, before realising what had been agreed. He harrumphed, looking decidedly unhappy about such an arrangement. As much as it felt like a horrible idea, it seemed the only chance to keep it from her husband. She could easily slip around here after he went to the office. "You can spend the next hour under assessment. If you are satisfactory we can draw up an agreement," he stated, while tapping the desk with a pen, to emphasis every word. "Thank you, sir," Suzanne replied, and almost curtsied. She felt pleased to have the chance to prove herself, and keep the secret from her husband. A little thrill ran through her at the prospect of having a job. As humble as it was, it would get her out of the house for a short while each week. "Follow me," he told her. In a spare bedroom he handed her a wraparound overall. "Take off that dress and wear this. It will remind you what you are here for. You need to learn some discipline in your life, young lady," he sternly told her. Suzanne just stood there watching him march out of the room, wondering how this had happened. She was wearing an expensive outfit, in anticipation of going shopping with Barbara. Cleaning house might ruin it, so it was practical to wear the humble looking garment. Shrugging off the high heels she slipped into a pair of flat shoes. She hurriedly pulled off the dress, to wrap the cheap nylon garment on. It was a size too small, but her breasts weren't exposed, and the bra didn't show. It was shorter than she would have liked, but nothing that couldn't be coped with. The stocking tops were covered, only just. It would be difficult bending and reaching, without revealing the suspender straps. She sighed heavily, on looking at herself in a mirror. She hardly looked like a domestic maid, except for the overall. Joining him in the kitchen, she looked around wondering what to do, as everything was neat and tidy. He handed her a list of chores. "I'll be in my study if you need further instruction," he informed her. She really did feel like a humble household maid. The oven didn't look as dirty as the one at home. Still, orders were orders, so she squirted cleaning fluid over the surfaces. While it foamed up, she started on the cupboards. The kitchen chores were completed, so she moved on to the lounge. Everywhere was spotless and spartanly decorated, as might be expected in a bachelor's home. At least she was cleaning this neat home, unlike her brothers messy apartment. "Damn!" she cried out. On hands and knees she stared in disbelief at the shattered pieces of a broken urn. "Now what have you done!" James said, followed by a loud hiss of disgust. "Good grief! You foolish girl, that will cost you dearly!" he said, with menace. He stood over her, fiercely staring at the urn. She was quivering with anguish. "Its bad enough the vase was valuable. It contained my late wife's ashes," he quietly spoke. The anger in his voice was clear enough. "I. I'm so, so sorry, sir," she said, with a tremulous voice, only just holding back a flood of tears. "The trouble with you young people today, is you have no discipline, and consequently you are careless. You break things and don't bother to maintain anything either. You just go out and buy new. You are a victim of the throw away society, and you girl, are inflicting it upon me!" he spouted the words angrily. "Come here!" he quietly demanded. Quivering too much to stand, she crawled across the floor to him. With a strong grip upon an arm, he pulled her over his knee. Whack! His hand slapped her bottom. "No! I'm not a girl, I'm a married woman! Ouch! You can't, ouch!" she yelped. "No! Please, you can't spank me, ouch!" she yelped again. "Please, sir, don't hurt me. I promise to be a good girl, honest, sir," Suzanne pleaded. It felt as though she was a child, back home with her parents, being spanked for some wrong doing. It wasn't until her father died that she had rebelled, becoming a late developer, as far as sex was concerned. That was when she met Jim. Her first fling, and she was hooked on him. He took over, replacing her father to some degree. He cosseted and looked after her, though something more than that was needed. She couldn't exactly put a finger on what was missing from their relationship. "Ouch! Please, sir, I will be a good little girl, honest I will, please stop, sir. I'll do anything you want, sir," she yelped. James's anger hadn't been abated, he just came to his senses. His hand stung which brought him sharply to the present. He rolled her off his lap with a feeling of disgust. The snivelling bitch was more nuisance than she was worth. It was then he realised he had spoken the harsh words out loud. He looked down at her. She was spread out on the floor, with the overall falling open, showing off her underwear. "Cover yourself up you brazen hussy," James sternly admonished her. Suzanne felt so humiliated, she could hardly function. He had called her a snivelling bitch, and a nuisance. Now she was a brazen hussy. A part of her wanted to get up and shout at him for being a brute and a bully. Something else too was happening, something she needed to ignore. Like a frightened rabbit, she remained stunned on the floor at his feet. She felt like a stupid little girl, a useless nuisance, and a naughty brazen hussy. "Now look, you're bleeding on the carpet," he gruffly stated. James grabbed her wrist and pulled her up, off the floor. He led her into the bathroom where he rummaged for a plaster. Taking the hand that had been pulling the overall together, he carefully wrapped a plaster around the thumb, covering a nasty gash. Suzanne wished she had worn a more sensible set of underwear. Visiting Barbara meant dressing up, and of course she had to wear the newest bra, panties, and stockings, to feel right. The overall was hanging open, showing off the delicate bra and panties. Although he didn't seem to notice, she was terribly conscious of her near nakedness before a stranger. A silent stream of tears ran down her cheeks. Feeling so lowly and pathetic, brought on a heartfelt sob. "There, there, young lady, you're not going to bleed to death," he told her. His voice was hardly warm, though less gruff. He patted her head, in an awkward attempt to console her. She wrapped her arms around him, and cried on his chest. It had been a long time since she had something to cry about. There was something missing in her life, though reaching for what it was had been impossible. Emotion from a deep emptiness poured from her. She grasped onto this strong, domineering man. He was harsh and had spanked her, yet somehow that made her feel wanted. The tears receded and she reached up to kiss him on the cheek. He opened his mouth to complain, so she automatically kissed his open mouth. Her tongue delved in and hungrily explored, seeking acceptance. James was astounded. He knew she was a woman, not a silly young girl. He shouldn't have treated her like one, even though she had shown all the irresponsibility of an adolescent. He wasn't responding which stoked a need within her. She urgently needed his approval, and feared rejection. It wasn't a friend's neighbour she was trying to please, it was an inner need for a strong domineering man. She needed someone who would treat her right. She pressed her body against his, blatantly offering herself to him. She was grateful to feel him responding, holding her tight, tongue duelling tongue. He lifted her onto the edge of the sink, pushing between her legs, forcing her thighs apart. Only half aware of what was happening, she became very aware of his hardness entering her. 'No! Not him! Not this old man!' thoughts screamed, echoing around in her mind. With each deep thrust her cheeks were lifted and dropped on the hard sink. He was careless of what she wanted, unknowing of her rhythm, not bothering to find out. He was just taking what had been put on offer. "Fuck me harder," her voice whimpered, sounding loud in the small bathroom. "Punish me, fuck me hard." "You little slut. You're a dirty mouthed slut," he hoarsely breathed at her. Without missing a beat of hard thrusts, he slapped her face, almost dropping her. He held her perched on the edge of the sink with one hand, and with his cock buried deep into her body. He grabbed a fistful of hair to hold her in place. "Yes! I'm your little slut, sir, fuck your dirty slut hard," she cried out. "Please make your slut cum, let your little slut cum, sir," she wailed. The words shocked her. The feeling of being a dirty little tramp, being roughly used, overcame her. The slut in her took over, letting loose. The slut screeched meaningless sounds. She wrapped her legs around his waist, digging in hard; the feeling of being ridden like a dirty little slut pushing her to an orgasm. "Oh! God! I'm cumin," she wailed. For the first time ever, she felt a spurt of cum deep inside. He crushed her in his strong arms, still spurting cum deeply into her body, seeming to fill her up. His cock was big and strong like him. Suzanne returned, slinking back from being a slut. She dare not open her eyes, not wanting to see a stranger filling her body with his cock. She became fearful of what she had said and done. Her mind reeled with contrary feelings. She felt fulfilled, yet it had been a bad thing. It had been with a stranger, instead of her husband! So it must true, that she was a dirty little slut. So why did she feel so wonderful? After they cleaned up in separate bathrooms, she walked into the lounge to find he had tidied away the mess she had made. The thought of spilling his wife's ashes added to the burden of guilt. Straining with all the will left to her, she managed to tap on the study door. "Come," he loudly said. Suzanne jumped in fright. The single word rang in her ears, as though they had been slapped. With a red face she stepped into his study to stand before him. She no longer felt like a schoolgirl, she was a little slut, deserving to be fiercely chastised by the stern father figure. Her mother had scolded her years ago, saying she wouldn't have dared to behave like such a naughty girl, if her father were alive. So here she was, ready to face a stern father figure, for a well deserved punishment. "Tomorrow morning at ten, and I expect you to be prompt, and to be on your best behaviour young woman. Do you understand me?" he sternly demanded. "Yes, sir, sorry, sir," she blushed, and curtsied. In a state of confusion, she left his house to walk back to her car. She couldn't possibly think about what happened, it was all too dreadful. It had been her fault, she had thrown herself at him, so what was he expected to do. At least he hadn't dismissed her, by accepting the sex in exchange for the money she owed. That would have made her a prostitute. Instead he had ignored the naughty episode, treating her like a naughty little girl. She now had a chance, to make it up to him. To show him she could be a good responsible woman. "Hi Suzy! You looking for me?" Barbara called. "You OK? You look as though you've been in an accident!" she laughed. She nodded toward the dented rear end. Suzanne walked into her friend's home, not listening to the incessant chattering. Barbara handed her a bottle of cool soda, with a straw, something new she explained. Suzanne chewed the straw feeling nervous and highly strung. She was about to break down, but instead blurted out all that had happened. She left out how exciting it had been at the time, only admitting she felt very guilty. With the soda in her hand it felt like being with a young student again, sharing naughty adventures from the night before. Except now they weren't just swapping gossip about heavy petting sessions. She was confessing a sexual encounter with a stranger! Barbara listened, as good friends do, without interrupting the edgy spilling of words. Just interjecting the occasional appropriate sound of sympathy. She understood the look on her friend's face, when mentioning being spanked, and filled in the gaps in the hurried dialogue. It was obvious what the young woman was feeling, and why. She guessed at why her friend had behaved badly, even if Suzanne hadn't. "I feel so terribly guilty. Just don't tell anyone, please Barbara," Suzanne finally said. Most of all she meant her husband, though left it unsaid. Barbara didn't know what to do with her. She looked at the young woman, seeing how foolish she was, unsure whether to take advantage, or help her out of a bind. Either way she would have to make it fun. "You do realise he's over fifty?" Barbara stated. The look on her friend's face was a picture of shock. She went pale and covered her face with both hands. The poor thing still hadn't realised why it had happened. "You have to promise me you'll come here tomorrow, and tell me everything, everything!" Barbara said, with a firm voice. She was older than her friend, who often confided in her, seeking advice. "Yes sure. I will, I promise," Suzanne answered. She was worried because her friend hadn't promised not to tell anyone. Their conversation moved on to clothes and the local gossip. It took her mind off what had happened for short awhile. Suzanne Ch. 02 Chapter 02 The friend takes over "I can't go shopping, I'll just go home," Suzanne forlornly sighed. "I don't want you sitting there feeling sorry for yourself. When Jim gets home you'll break down and confess," Barbara sympathetically said. "He's away, on business," Suzanne explained. "Good! You've got time to recover, and put all this behind you, so he need never know," Barbara told her. "How can I? He has a right to know," Suzanne tearfully said. Barbara looked at her, acting like a foolish adolescent. The problem wasn't trivial, yet she was making a musical production out of it. Her sympathy was wearing thin. She could see why it happened, in a twisted sort of way. The young woman needed a dominant male in her life, and that old man had fit the prescription, just as she was feeling vulnerable. It was still a surprise to hear her nice, placid friend, had fucked a neighbour. Or rather, the fool let him fuck her; according to her version of events. Suzanne had backed into his car, without insurance to pay for the damage. She had stupidly got herself in a position where he took advantage of her. If it had been Barbara, she would have torn the old goat off a strip in the street, negotiated a price, and paid him off. Her friend was wealthy enough, but her husband held onto every penny. He had a point, for she didn't have a clue how to handle financial arrangements. The way he neglected her, she suspected he might be having an affair. Though it was more likely he was in love with that damn corporation he worked for. "You can stay here, and I'll look after you. We'll go shopping, I insist. OK, after you shower," Barbara relented. She imagined that old man's cum leaking into her friends panties, and shuddered. "I'll get you some clean underwear," Barbara shouted. She looked through her closet, wondering if there was anything to fit Suzanne. They were about the same height and build, though Suzanne's bust was bigger. She felt a twinge of jealousy, and shrugged it off. She liked the idea of dressing her up, like the daughter she never had. She wouldn't have brought her up to be so helpless, even without a father being around. Her patience had been sorely tried, while listening to the young woman's bleating, with constant weak excuses thrown in. She felt like slapping the woman, telling her to get over it. It had just been a quick fuck, for crying out loud. In an instant she made up her mind. She would help her out, and have a bit of fun with her too. She might even get something on that old bastard of a troublesome neighbour at the same time. "Come on hurry up!" Barbara cajoled. "I can't wear this, it's too short," Suzanne complained. "It's all I've got to fit you. You can't wear the dress, its stained," Barbara lied. "It's in the wash," she embellished the lie, feeling pleased with herself. "OK! I guess it's all I deserve," Suzanne woefully admitted. Barbara was going to tell her to snap out of it. She had chosen the short dress to make her feel more assertive, and learn to be proud of her sexuality. She was a young sexy woman, not a stupid adolescent. The self-pitying attitude was annoying enough to push her in a different direction. "Yes, that's right. You behaved like a slut, so now you look like one. Satisfied?" Barbara crossly commented. The wide eyed look of surprise on her friends face was a picture, needing no explanation. Barbara felt satisfied from jolting her, pulling her back from the abyss. It also pushed them both into a different relationship, where Barbara was taking over. "Just shut up whinging and do as you are told," Barbara couldn't help bullying her. She wore the dress to a dinner party, with a friend, and hadn't looked like a slut. On Suzanne the bust line was fuller, and that lifted the hem a little, that's all. "You want me to keep quiet about your nasty little affair, then do as you're told, or else," she warned. She was sorry to explode with the threat, but her patience was running out. When the young woman responded with murmured acquiescence, she was tempted to slap the stupid girl, to bring her back to reality. Of course she wouldn't reveal the naughty secret. It made her think though. Suzanne was quiet while they shopped. She made excuses not to buy anything, saying she had to make her allowance last until Jim got back from the business trip. It was true, and also suited her to feel undeserving of a new outfit. Barbara was tempted to ask if she was suspicious of Jim being away on business trips so often. Realising she was being vindictive, she instead bit her tongue. Barbara noticed men looking at her friend. Some looked over her long legs, while others studied her breasts. They looked large and plump, almost spilling over in the borrowed dress. Suzanne hadn't noticed the attention, being too self-absorbed. If she had, she would have been deeply embarrassed. As a shapely blonde, it was usually Barbara receiving the attention, which she thoroughly enjoyed. When Barbara saw a French maid outfit, she almost pointed it out to her friend, to share a joke and lighten her mood. Instead she told Suzanne to go and secure a comfortable seat, for a coffee at their usual cafe. Her mood had lightened when they met up again. Suzanne too seemed more relaxed, enough to purchase a couple of bottles of white wine, to share that evening. "You enjoyed his attention didn't you," Barbara stated, with a raised eyebrow, indicating she was waiting for confirmation. "How could I enjoy behaving like a slut?" Suzanne protest, in a whisper. "You did, and you do. Care to test it out? I dare you to find out the truth!" Barbara teased. "I'm not a slut! How can I prove it to you?" Suzanne hissed. "Look at me and carry on talking, as though distracted. Let your legs fall open, as though by accident. Don't look up, I'll tell you why in a minute," Barbara smiled. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Suzanne nervously move her knees apart, then clamp them together. While smiling for effect, she warned Suzanne to do as she was told. The tone of voice worked, for the woman opened her legs slightly. As commanded she leaned back and laughed, letting her thighs part. It sounded false but no one was listening. Two office workers, taking a lunchtime coffee, were staring at Suzanne, seeming to will her legs apart. Sitting back in the leather chairs, with nothing between the two groups, revealed her white triangle. Barbara had experience of surreptitiously observing people, and could flirt privately in a room full of strangers. She watched the two men share mischievous glances, then turn back, to staring at her friend. "Two men are looking up your dress. Don't you dare move! Make the laugh again and squirm in the seat," Barbara firmly ordered. Suzanne did as she was told, though her face declared it was under protest. Any woman would know Suzanne felt the silk dress slide up her thighs. The men didn't care, as they convinced themselves this was an accidental encounter. It was all the more thrilling for that. With her legs parted more, and the hem further up her thighs, they had a clearer view of her panties. It wasn't so outrageous as to be too obvious, though wives wouldn't be convinced. They weren't here, so it didn't matter. Barbara was excited to be giving them a thrill, by exposing her friend. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, with the rasp of nylon stockings, pleased to see their eyes swivel to her. She wished now she had dressed Suzanne up in suspenders and stockings. They were so much more exciting to men. She threw her head back and laughed at the stream of complaints from Suzanne. Lifting her legs up, as though it were a spontaneous reaction, the hem slid up the stockings. The way she sat revealed the white of her thighs. She knew exactly what she was revealing, having played this game before. Lifting both legs onto the sofa she bent her knees, holding a calf in one hand, and let a shoe fall off. It looked as though she were relaxing at home. Once before in this cafe, she had made this pose. The pretence of distraction had been that she was reading a book. This time she hoped it looked like two women lost in conversation. She felt the hem fall back, to reveal stocking tops, on the leg balancing at the edge of the sofa. The marvellous tingling up her spine, was way out of proportion with the sensation of silk running over her leg. The two men didn't know which way to turn. Sitting opposite them were two sexy women, oblivious to where they were, or what was going on around them. The two women were enthralled with each others' girly gossip. The men were tensely watching every move, yet trying to be inconspicuous. "Please Barbara, stop this now. It's degrading," Suzanne complained. "You will do as you are told, naughty slutty girl," Barbara taunted her. It was a surprise that Suzanne continued with the pretence, indicating something else was keeping her going, as well as the threat of divulging her sordid little secret. "You are feeling aroused, aren't you! You are a bit of a slut after all," Barbara laughed. Watching her friend's face turn from pale white to puce was a treat. She had guessed correctly. "Your panties are soaking wet, isn't that right, slut," Barbara stated. "Don't shout, please," Suzanne warned her. Their voices weren't raised, it just felt like it, from such an intimate detail being broadcast in a public place. Barbara sat back with a smug look on her face. It hadn't been denied. Both women were looking at each other, now genuinely engrossed in their duel of wills. Suzanne had little chance. Her eyes were kept locked with her friend, unable to look away. It was as though the older woman knew everything, yet she hadn't a clue why this was happening to her. Barbara leaned forward to whisper something in her friend's ear. "You're a naughty little slut, and I've caught you out. You enjoy being a dirty slut," she whispered. With one hand she held onto the hem, and with the other gave Suzanne a playful push, not caring if it looked like an accident or not. Suzanne lost her balance, and slid to the edge of the slippery leather sofa. She gave an added shove, with the hand holding onto the hem. "Whoops!" Barbara loudly declared, to the whole coffee shop. The guys sitting opposite got an eye-full of Suzanne, on her back on the floor, with legs spread. A line of waiting customers turned their heads in unison. They all watched the poor woman trying valiantly to pull her dress down. The white panties were on view to all and sundry. Her friend waded in to help, though purposely getting in the way. Barbara seemed desperate to cover her friend's embarrassment, and leaned over to help her up. Her stockings and suspenders were revealed to the two guys ogling the spectacle. Her dress was crinkled up from where she had been sitting on it, revealing all, when inelegantly bending over. Obviously she hadn't meant to flaunt her body, it was an inadvertent mishap, while helping her friend. Or, so they thought. Their elbows nudged each other, but they didn't look away from the show. Barbara's perfect smooth cheeks were on display, framed by suspender belts and stocking tops. The panties were creased between her cheeks, tantalisingly revealing one rounded cheek completely. Barbara manoeuvred her friend over so she could get up on hands and knees. She made a fuss of pulling the dress down, while revealing her own backside. Barbara looked suitably flustered, and Suzanne was beetroot red, brightly flashing an obvious state of embarrassment. They left the coffee shop in a hurry, with everyone silently staring at them. It didn't suit Barbara for them to start applauding the show. She needed to keep her friend relatively quiet, fearing too much attention would have her rebelling. She found the game so exciting, she planned on playing it again. It wasn't until the first bottle of wine had been killed off that Suzanne relented. "Yes, alright, I give in. I was slightly aroused," she admitted. "There is no way I would do such a sordid thing, if you hadn't forced me into it," she added, in mitigation. "That's not the point. You were hot from strangers looking up your dress. Some might not think it exciting at all, while others would love it," Barbara shrugged. "It just depends what you're into," she added. "I have no idea what I'm 'into', as you call it," Suzanne declared, after a long pull on a fresh glass of Chablis. The conversation went down hill from there. They made up strange fetishes, firing the silly ideas at each other. "Wearing leather boots, filled with sour cream," Barbara laughed. Suzanne could hardly speak from laughing. "What? Tell me," Barbara implored. "Made up, and dressed as a doll, for a man to play with," she wheezed out eventually. "No points for that one. It's a genuine fetish," Barbara informed her friend. "You're joking, really? Your turn then," she sighed, while shaking her head in wonder at this new world opening before her. Next day Barbara didn't feel like pulling a practical joke on her friend. They both had thick heads, from having opened more than the two bottles. "You need to go in there with a more positive attitude today. Be assertive and take command of the situation," Barbara coached her friend. "You need something to frighten him with, and I've got just the thing," Barbara growled. "Just put it on," Barbara insisted. She didn't tell her she had bought it yesterday. She pretended it had been bought some time ago, for a fancy dress party. She had intended just to show her the maid outfit as a joke, then take it back to the store. Partly from annoyance, as well as thinking it might work, she bullied Suzanne into it. If the old guy had a heart attack it wouldn't worry her in the slightest. If she had been more alert, she might have considered the devastating effect it would have on her friend. "Go knock him dead!" Barbara quipped, then quickly put a hand to her head. She needed another cup of coffee, and an ice pack. She needed a maid herself today, for there was no way she was fit enough to cope. It struck her that right here was the solution. She contemplating blackmailing Suzanne into being her maid. "Go on, you don't want to be late!" Barbara cajoled her. Suzanne walked past her car, still parked in the street where they had collided. If she had the keys she would have fled for dear life. Instead she pushed her hands deeper into the coat pockets, trying to hold down the fluffed up petticoats. "Is this your idea of a joke?" James asked. "Sorry, sir. I borrowed it from a friend," Suzanne explained. She stood before his desk feeling small and foolish. The hangover left her feeling fragile, otherwise the inappropriate outfit would have been refused. She had been bullied and cajoled all morning, now he was dominating her. "Well at least you are on time. I expect you to carry out my instructions to the letter, young woman," he sternly addressed her. Suzanne lost herself in the simple task of cleaning and tidying the kitchen. Working through his list of instructions was easy enough, though when she entered the bathroom, a shudder wracked her body. This is where she had so badly let herself down. A wave of guilt threatened to overwhelm her. Her friend was right, she had enjoyed his attention. More than that, she had let loose all inhibitions, to experience a tremendous orgasm. "You all right?" James asked. She was holding onto the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. It was a gut feeling that made him guess why. "Yesterday. . . It just happened, one of those mad moments," he tried dismissing it. "You're right. I'm a slut. I enjoyed what we did, I've never let go so much," she admitted, more to herself than him. He had come looking for her, after sitting at his desk, unable to work. He had tried to resist the urge, but the sight of her dressed as a fantasy maid was so powerful, it compelled him to seek her out. The wild sex they had yesterday had disturbed his well ordered life. He put his arms around her, to console her. One arm wrapped around her slim waist, with a hand to her cheek to wipe away a tear. His arm pressed against a soft, full breast. His close presence was enough. Thinking about the naughty game with Barbara yesterday, and the wild sex with him had already fired her up. A needful passionate feeling threatened to overwhelm her. Instead of resisting she let it build, with a desire to find out what might happen. She looked at him in the mirror, seeing a face filled with desire for her. It didn't put her off, rather it intensified the feeling of being his naughty little slut. She pushed her bottom back against him, feeling his erection. She watched his hands pull the dress from her breasts. They cupped them, in no hurry to maul them. Instead he gently massaged them, creating wonderful sensations, building the desire, stoking the file in her belly. It wasn't too late, she could stop him, but the will to resist began to evaporate, with the heat of desire. He rolled both nipples between fingers and thumbs, teasing them erect. He reluctantly let go of one, to pull his cock from his trousers. He had been married for thirty years, making love to the same woman, never straying. When they were young it had been furtive, never so sensual as this. This young body was available to him, like no other had been. His penis seemed to appreciate the opportunity, for it seemed larger and more eager than it had ever been. With his wife it had been a convenient coming together, for mutual satisfaction, just a routine. It had quickly fallen away to once a week, once a month, then just the occasional pleasant coupling. His youthful enthusiasm had been recovered, with the experience of age allowing a more patient and prolonged experience. His cock nudged her thigh, and pushed between her legs. His hand returned to her breast, happy to nudge her sex through her panties for a moment or two. He felt a hand take hold of him. With a twist of her fingers the panty crotch was pushed aside. Manoeuvring her bottom, she guided herself onto him. On tiptoe she poised, offering her precious gift, waiting for his move. He felt the slickness of her lips rub the head of his cock, as she trembled on tiptoe. He guessed she needed him as much as he needed her. "You're such a wonderful sexy slut. You're a beautiful young woman, delicious to look at, and such a naughty slut," he heavily whispered into an ear. Her legs were trembling, from standing so tensely, and from intense desire. She felt his cock playing over her pussy, nudging her clit. His hands moulded her breasts, pinched her nipples, setting them on fire. She needed to fall upon his cock, to feel it inside, to have it all, deeply piercing her body. Instead she waited for him to take her, relishing the building desire. Again she was ready to cry, this time from joy. "Take me, make me your slut, fuck me. Please!" she cried out. He thrust up, lifting her higher. She sank down upon his cock, feeling it fill her, feeling every ripple in her vagina as it gripped tight. James felt as though he was having a heart attack. His whole body shook with heaving breaths, every pulse bulging, thumping loud in his ears, in rhythm with the jets of his load bursting into her. He let her slide to the floor, too weak to hold her up. At his feet she looked up at him, with a look of shock and pain on her face, still in the throes of an all consuming orgasm. "I'm just a little slut, your little slut, please sir," she whimpered. James managed to awkwardly get onto the floor with her. He wrapped his arms around her, tensely gripping her frail frame. Her breasts were still lewdly on show, where he had pulled them free. He held them in one large hand, pushing them together, caressing them. He couldn't work out what had happened, why she was acting this way. He didn't care. Suzanne Ch. 02 "Yes!" he gasped, still breathing heavily, sucking in air. "You're my, lovely little, slut. I want, you," he gasped. "Oh! Thank you, sir. I want to be yours, I want to be your lovely little slut," she mewed, with an all consuming pleasure.