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The Personal Ad

By: wordguy1959



They had met online after she had posted a personal ad on Craig's List: Married woman looking for romance, it said, if he could paraphrase.

It was a classy posting amid the no-strings-attached pleas for one night of animal sex, or the ads by women who said they were looking for a relationship, but, in fact, were just looking for a man to validate them with empty compliments designed for one purpose -- to get them out of their clothes. They both knew what would happen: They would have sex, part ways and move on to the next "love at first e-mail response."

With each conquest, they never felt better. Some felt worse.

But she was no player. Dozens of would-be suitors had responded to her post, but none had succeeded. Maybe she was too picky. Maybe she was looking for something -- romance -- that just wasn't going to happen in the internet whorehouse that Craig's List had become. Heck, maybe she should just give in and have empty sex with a stranger. Who knows? Maybe the sex would be good ... and Lord knows, she could use some good sex.

Like right now.

She sat on the sofa in front of the television. Everyone else in the house was asleep. Another of her long days -- filled with a job, school, family obligations, you name it -- had come to an end in the wee hours, but she couldn't sleep. Her mind was drifting.

Amid all of the rejections, there was one guy who kind of gnawed at her. She was sure they weren't right for each other -- he seemed too occupied with sex; she wanted to be wooed. He had a wife at home who was frigid and he wasn't about to jump into a relationship with another woman who seemed to shy from her sexuality. So, he tested her. She had a husband who didn't give her the soft love she craved. She teased him with a few sexy, sometimes baudy, comments. But in the end, she rejected him.

And now, he was back on her mind. She had kept his e-mails, in particular two explicit stories he had written for her. But she found them crude. He wrote about sex -- raw sex. One story was about a woman who picked up a man on the side of the road. The other described a threesome. Neither of those was a fantasy of hers.

Doesn't anyone write about romance anymore, she wondered.

But she had re-read the stories that day at work and now was rewinding them in her mind. She made believe the man by the side of the road with the disabled car was him. He had called her when his car had been disabled nearby. They were finally going to meet.

She reached her hand under her nightgown and closed her eyes ...

They were seated on the couch, a tray of tea and cookies on the table in front of them. She had made them as a joke because, once, to show her old-fashioned values, she had told him in an e-mail that one of her fantasies involved having tea and cookies with a man, a suitor, in a ritual from decades, maybe centuries, ago.

"Very funny," he said when he saw the refreshments. "Very funny."

She just smiled.

She picked him up after the tow truck left, and brought him home. They talked for what seemed like hours -- about her job, his job, what was going on in the world, their e-mails. She indulged his sense of humor by laughing in all of the right spots of the conversation. Every once in a while, when making a point, she would reach out and touch him on the arm, and each time it was like an electrical jolt through his body.

When she wasn't looking, he sneaked peeks at her, and undressed her with his eyes. He wondered what she looked like beneath the long skirt and the layered shirts, but since he wasn't Superman, with X-ray vision, it was all conjecture. Dark features, Small breasts. He liked that. He was never a big breast guy. He wondered about the size of her nipples. He wondered if they were erect as they spoke. After all, he was turned on. Was she also?

As she talked, his mind often wandered. He was trying to get up the nerve to kiss her. Should he? Shouldn't he? She wanted to be romanced. Did that mean she would be offended if he kissed her. Would he score more points if he held back? She had said she didn't want him. Did she? Didn't she? She was difficult to read.

He reached out and took her hand. It startled her for a second, but she realized she liked it and didn't pull back.

"Good sign," he thought. So he ventured further,

"I want to be honest," he said.

"About what?" she wondered.

"I've been sitting here for the past half hour not knowing whether I should kiss you or not. Frankly, I don't know what to do."

"Sounds like a quandary," she said with a wry smile.

"Yes, you're not very easy to read," he replied. "Think you could give me a signal?"

She thought for a moment.

"Okay," she said. "A signal."

She made a move as if to slap his face, but stopped, put the hand around his neck, moved closer to him on the couch and leaned in.

"How's that?" she asked.

He leaned over and kissed her -- one of those long, slow, probing kisses. Soft. Lingering. He tasted her. He made love to her bottom lip. They slowly pulled their mouths apart.

In that awkward moment afterward, they rested their foreheads together and smiled at each other.

When there was a lull in the conversation and the kissing, she turned on the television. They sat together, not talking ... not with their mouths anyway. He put his arm around her shoulder. She moved closer and rested her head on his chest, smelling him. He played with her hair and stroked the back of her neck. Each were getting aroused and wondering if the other could tell.

He placed his other hand on her leg. She gently stroked it, playing with the hair, occasionally moving up to gently clutch his hand for a second.

Before long, they were kissing again, and their hands were roving, each careful not to stray to ... well, you know where. Ironically, they avoided the places on each other's bodies where they most wanted to be touched. His lips moved away from her mouth and slid down her neck, stopping briefly every inch for another kiss. He moved her hair out of the way, trying to find that spot on the back of the neck that would make her wet.

He had found it. He just didn't know.

She was kissing his cheek, then his neck too. Her hands slid from his arms to his leg and back again. Along the outer thigh, then to the inner part ... so precise not to ... she felt a tingle. She had tried not to touch him there, but his erection was growing and she had unwittingly run her hand over it. He was hard. She liked the thought that she could get him hard.

He was thinking, "Touch it again. Please touch it again."

But she didn't, skillfully running her hand oh-so-close but not touching it. Eventually, he couldn't take it any more. He took her hand and placed it on his cock.

"You can touch it," he said. "I want you to. See what happens when I kiss you? See what happens when you put your hands on me?"

She slid her hand up and down his slacks, feeling it. She was incredibly excited. He kissed her again, and this time, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth. Hers met his. The tongues danced together.

Now it was her turn. She took his hand and placed it on her right breast.

"See what you do to me?" she said.

He could feel that her nipple was erect, just as he had wondered. But he also realized that she wasn't wearing a bra. He caressed the breast through her shirts, slipping his hand inside the second one.

"I want to see you," he whispered.

He unbuttoned her blouse and took it off slowly. The suspense was killing both of them. She couldn't wait for his mouth on her breast, gently licking and sucking on her nipple. His head was swirling in anticipation, too.

Then, by the light of the TV, he saw them. Small breasts. Nipples, dark and hard, the areola perfect and round. He took one into his mouth. She moaned. He made love to both of her breasts, moving from the right to the left and back, kissing the area between them.

"Take your shirt off," she said. "I want to feel you against me."

When his chest was bare, she pulled him to her. They reveled in the exchange of warmth. She loved the skin-to-skin contact. But she could also feel him in another place. With him on top of her, they kissed some more.

Eventually, she forced him up into a sitting position and undid his belt. Then his buckle. She unzipped his fly. His cock was throbbing. She reached into his boxers and put her hands on it. He sighed. "God, that feels good, he thought. It's been so long since someone else touched me there."

She explored with her hands. Its hardness. Its head and shaft, His balls. She noticed that he was shaven, but didn't say anything. She caressed it and stroked it, gently running her fingernails along the shaft. When she could hold back no longer, she took it in her mouth. There was a secret she was keeping: She enjoyed this as much as he did.

She was a pleaser in many ways. She wanted to make her man feel good. And she knew how to do it. She softly sucked on his cock, stroking it with her hand, too, as it slid in and out of the warmth of her mouth. She tasted that first drop.

Because she was concentrating on what she was doing, she didn't notice that his hand was beneath her skirt, his fingers playing with the panties on her inner thigh. He probed beneath and felt her wetness. That's when she felt him there. She took his cock out of her mouth and gasped. He stroked her. Her wetness was like velvet.

It didn't take him long to find the spot. His fingers made slow circles around it, teasing her. He could sense each time she was close to orgasm, and he stopped, his finger wandering off to another spot, near, but not there. After several times of being brought to the brink, her clit was thobbing. She was close. So close. Now, whenever his finger came near, she shifted her body -- partly to let him know she was ready, partly to make his finger touch her where she needed to be touched. She couldn't take the teasing any longer.

And when she was teetering on the edge again, she grabbed his hand and held it on her clit.

"Don't stop," she whispered. "Please don't stop."

And as his finger rubbed her faster and faster, she came. As she did, she pushed his fingers deep inside of her, fucking them. She road the orgasm, as powerful as she had ever had.

Her moans and her climax were more than he could stand. He lost control and they climaxed together. Somehow she swallowed him. His cum was hot and strong and there was a lot. But she enjoyed taking him. She was pleasing her man. His ecstacy made her cum again, the orgasms now strung together, one overlapping the other.

Her mind was swirling ...

Creak!

She heard a sound. Someone was awakening. She took her hand out of her nightgown and composed herself. The TV, some silly informercial, was talking at her.

"You coming to bed?" the voice from upstairs asked. It was her husband.

"In a minute," she said.

She looked out the window at the streetlight, and thought of him, then turned off the TV and headed upstairs. She smiled to herself.

The Personal Ad



Monica was a stunning woman. From the auburn hair that draped over her elegant shoulders to the tips of her perfectly manicured toes, she was what most men would think of as perfection. She was a tall woman with a slender build and firm natural breasts. In her younger years she was a model, and that career choice landed her a wonderfully wealthy husband, and by wealthy I mean filthy fucking rich. While the marriage did not last, Monica was left with more money than she would ever need, and a wonderful son, David, who she felt was more than any mother could dream. 

David was average in size and build but well above average in just about every other regard. He had well groomed, curly brown hair to match his eyes, a strong jawline, and a smile that made women melt in his strong hands. He was very intelligent as well, earning a scholarship to a very prestigious school even though, being just as wealthy as his mother, he could have gone there without it. He was also a member the schools lacrosse team and had won several martial arts tournaments. What truly made David stand above the rest however, was his confidence. He was completely confident in himself in every but somehow never came across as arrogant.

It was almost time for David to return home for the winter break between semesters and Monica was very worried about her young son. She took care of Davids finances while he was away at school because he was extremely busy, and he had complete trust that his money was in capable hands. She didn't mind doing it either, it made her feel needed by her son who really needed very little from anyone. While paying some of his bills she came across a charge that struck her as odd and, after a bit of investigation, found that her David had taken out a very disturbing personal ad.

The ad explained how busy he was and that he was looking for a steady, faithful, attractive girlfriend for the remainder of his time at school. The disturbing part foe Monica was the fact that, while the ad said he was certainly not looking for a prostitute, he was a very generous gift giver and the position would have a weekly salary. The first two dates would be an interview and both would be tested for diseases. After both parties were cleared and agreeable sex would be an expected part of the relationship when reasonable.

She could not believe her son would do something like this and it made her sick with worry. The plan was to confront him about it and convince him to remove the ad but Monica knew it would not be easy to change his mind. When David made a decision he normally followed through to the end. She just couldn't imagine why he had done it. Girls had always fallen all over David. Hell, women had too. She once caught him with a woman older than her.

When Monica saw the driver pull up her worries were momentarily forgotten. Her boy was home and she greeted him excitedly at the door. David was happy to be home as well and greeted his mom with as much enthusiasm as she did him. They squeezed each other tightly and exchanged kisses before heading to the sitting room for small talk about how things had been for each of them over the past few months, and how Davids trip had been, and what their plans would be for the days ahead. They then decided to freshen up a bit for dinner and Monica planned to bring up the ad as they ate. She saw no reason to delay the inevitable.

Food was brought in and they quickly said grace, although neither of them ware really religious. As Monica started to each, she said to David, "You know, I saw the ad you placed," trying to open the conversation gently and get a feel for where her son was coming from.

"Oh yeah, what did you think?" he replied, "I thought it would be a great way to keep the drama out of my life while I'm so busy at school and who knows, I could actually meet someone nice in the process."

"You can't be serious David. You are not too busy to have a real relationship, and if you are then you should just wait until you're finished with school and start looking for someone then," Monica continued, but she knew she had an uphill battle. "I know you would do the testing but what about diseases, or even pregnancy David, this is a dangerous idea and you know it," she was making a good argument but could see it falling on deaf ears. "I don't think this is what your father had in mind for you when he gave you your inheritance money either," she added desperately, before finally pausing for Davids response.

"Mom I know you're worried but I've thought about all these things," he began, "I considered my options and this was my decision. As far as dad goes, he already knows. I told him before I put the ad, and he had many of the same concerns but he didn't try to stop me." 

Monica silently began to cry as David continued.

"Mom don't. I know you love me, and I love you, but you have to let me live my life, and for me this is my best, and really, only option for now," he said softly but confidently. He really did hate to see his mother cry, but he knew what he was doing and had to convince her that he would be just fine. "I'm sorry you can't see this my way, but I hope you can come to terms with it and we can still enjoy our visit. I miss our time together and was really looking forward to seeing you a lot while I'm here," he said truthfully, trying to help Monica feel better.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and even smiled just a little. "I miss you so much, my sweet boy," Monica said, staring lovingly at her only child. "Of course we will enjoy this time and spend as much time as possible together, but," she stated, "I will not come to terms with this and you will have to hear me plead my case at least one more time before you make a huge mistake."

They were almost finished eating and David made this concession to his mother. "Alright mom I'll always hear you out, just try not to nag me about it too much because you're not going to change my mind," he said as he stood from the table. 

"Well I guess that has to be good enough for now," she said as her son approached her. "I know it's as good as I'm gonna' get tonight," she finished as she hugged her sons waist and he kissed her on the top of her head.

"I have plans with the guys tonight," David informed her as he was leaving, "but do you want to do something in the morning like tennis, or something?"

"Tennis sounds good. Be careful and don't stay out too late," she called out smiling, doubting he heard a word that she had said.

Monica did not sleep well that night. She tossed and turned, worrying about David. She had to convince him not to do this, but how? She tormented herself for hours but no answers came.

Morning came late, but it was a beautiful day. David and Monica had a late breakfast together before a few casual games of tennis. After that they visited some old friends and had lunch before returning home to relax before the show. Monica had seats for opening night of a high budget musical and they were both very excited and wanted to be well rested. David was on his laptop while his mother napped in the next room over. After a light dinner they both thoroughly enjoyed the show and planned on seeing it again before break was over if they could get seats.

The next day was Sunday and went very much like the day before, without the musical of course. They enjoyed their time together and Davids ad was all but forgotten, or so he hoped.

Monica had not forgotten about her sons ad however, and during lunch on their third day together she brought it up again.

"So David," she began, nervously, "have you given any more thought to your personal ad?"

"Actually I have mom," he replied, very excitedly. "I checked yesterday, and I have three hits. I'm considering going back a little early to start the interview process," he finished.

"You know that's not what I meant David," She started, sternly. "You're not really going to leave me early for that train wreck you are so determined to make happen are you?" she continued, very disappointing.

"I know that's not what you meant mom, and come on, its just a couple of days. This is very exciting for me....,"he didn't finish.

Monica sat sullenly as he spoke but they both knew the day was over for her. She was deep in thought and would be until she could figure this out.

"Well mom," he said finally, "I hope you feel better. See ya tonight." Then he left.

"What am I going to do?" Monica was talking out loud to herself as her driver sped down the freeway toward home. She wished she could just fill the role herself, but quickly put that out of her mind. She could never do that and even if she could David would never want her anyway. She had to come up with something. Perhaps one of her friends would be willing. Who was she kidding, of course they would, but that would be no different than what he was doing.

When she got home Monica quickly started a bath. She needed to relax and think. Her time was getting shorter, and soon her boy would be gone. Back to school to interview his new professional girlfriend. She truly didn't know why it sickened her so much, but the thought of David paying someone to be with him made her want to vomit. 

As she entered the bath the warmth of the water consumed her. The steam was refreshing as she breathed it in. As the bubbles caressed her near flawless body, Monica decided. She would offer herself to her son. She was a model for heavens sake and still could be if she chose to. "If anyone can do this, I can," she thought.

As she dressed she lost all resolve. She couldn't do this. Not with her son. Not with anyone for that matter.

She went back and forth with herself deep into the night unable to sleep. Finally she got up to get something to snack and heard Davis playing a video game in the theater room. She turned and went back to her room, careful not to make a sound and give away that she was awake. She took off all of her cloths and sat to do her make-up. When her make-up was finished she perfumed herself lightly and wrapped her body in a burgundy silk robe. She had tortured herself enough. It was time for Monica to offer herself to her son.

David heard his mom come in and looked up from his game, "Hi mom," he said, casually, "What's the matter, can't sleep?"

"No son," she said, evenly, "I can't sleep. I have important things occupying my mind. I need to ask you some important questions, can you turn that off?"

"Sure mom, no problem," he replied, pouting a bit as he turned the game off, sure that he knew what was coming next.

"You're determined to go through with this dating thing aren't you?" she asked flatly.

"Yes mom," he sighed immaturely. He was normally more mature but this was really getting on his nerves now.

sensing his frustration, "Relax," she said, "I understand that you're going to do this, and I'm not going to try and stop you any more. I just need to ask you one more very important question."

He was relieved that his mom was finished nagging although he wasn't quite sure he believed her yet. "OK mom, what is it?"

With only the blue light of the television to illuminate her body, Monica slowly opened her robe and let it fall to the floor. She posed. Her right foot slightly in front of her left, standing tall, palms out pointing toward the floor with her delicate fingers. She turned her head slightly. Her only words, "Can I apply?"

Words cant convey the amount of things that went through Davids head at that moment. His mother was standing before him nude, submitting to his will, and she was beautiful. He had never realized just how stunning she was, but she had him stunned now. From head to toe he stared wordlessly for nearly ten minutes while he processed the situation, and she didn't move. She had made everything perfect for him. Her golden brown bush was even sculpted perfectly to draw his attention to her moist sex.

When he finally spoke his words were not profound. "Are you serious?" was all he could muster.

Finally moving from her pose, "Yes son I'm very serious. You had no other choice and neither do I. If you want me I will get a place to be close to you, and I will give you what you need," she said, looking deep into his soul, searching for his answer. "Do you want me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said slowly, in a daze. He said it before he even realized what he was saying.

Monica started to smile, thinking she had succeeded, but she was quickly dragged back to reality.

"Wait!" David spoke, snapping out of his daze. "I can't do this. You're my fucking mother. I need sex. I can't do that with you. I can't fuck you and you couldn't fuck me. Why are you doing this? You're fucked up. I told you this was going to happen and there is nothing you can do about." His words were a blur and so were his thoughts. David was angry and confused. "Good night mom. I'm going to bed!" he said, angrily. As he walked down the hall she could her him faintly, "What the fuck?" he asked.

Monica was stunned and cold. What had she done? All she could do was gather her robe and return to bed as the tears started to fall. She cried herself to sleep. Emotionally drained, Monica was certain that she had ruined her wonderful relationship with her son.

Sleep did not come so easily for David. He was confused and, quite frankly, he was horny. He just couldn't wrap his mind around what his mom could have possibly been thinking. He also couldn't stop thinking about her nude form and how it made his cock scream for release. After hours of tossing he finally gave in.

He pleasured himself to thoughts of his mother sliding onto him as he sat the leather sofa. She would slowly and loving stroke his hair as her slowly slowly and lovingly slid up and then back down his hardened shaft. He stared into her eyes and then she held him tightly to her bosom as he came deep inside her.

After he made himself cum, harder than he had since he first started masturbating, David fell into a deep sleep, filled with erotic images of himself and his mother, involved in every kind of sexual act you can imagine. He awoke covered in his own semen and even more confused than ever.

The next day was very awkward and forced for both Monica and David. They spent very little time together and almost nothing was said between them. David had decided to go back to campus and they didn't even say good-bye when he left. They were both miserable, and would be for months to come.

David tried to follow through with his personal ad scheme, but it was no good. He couldn't even enjoy the thought of it anymore. He was emotionally suffering and it showed in everything that he did. He had no social life left, his grades had fallen almost to the point that his scholarship was in jeopardy, and her nearly got his nose broken in the first round of a karate tournament that he was projected to win.

Monica wasn't any better. She hardly left the house, ate barely enough to stay alive, and cried every day. Her depression was deep. She loved her son more than anything and he would never forgive her. She felt herself slipping away and had no one to grasp onto. She was alone. No one could understand this. No one.

David was drunk. Spring break was still weeks away but he had to see her.

When he David woke up he was on a plane. He was on a plane with a major headache and had no idea how he had gotten there. He was on his way home. Suddenly he felt fear. Had he called her? He didn't remember. This is why David didn't drink. 

When the plane landed David found his car in long term parking and drove. His mind was a fun-house again. He was afraid, excited, happy and sad and so much more, all at once. He needed to get a grip, so for ours he drove around the city.

When he finally stopped he ordered a drink. What was he doing in a bar again? This confident young man was afraid and he needed some courage. One shot of courage coming up. Then another and another.

He startled her. She wasn't expecting anyone when he came into the room. He was clearly drunk and wreaked of alcohol from across the room.

"Mom,"he slurred, tears already beginning to well up in his eyes.

"What is it baby?" Monica replied, standing to meet him.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed, hugging his mother tightly as his tears poured onto her shoulder.

"No baby it's OK, I'm sorry, it's my fault," she sobbed back, her tears now flowing as well. She rubbed his hair as the embraced.

A few minutes past and Monica lead her drunken son to the theater room and they sat together, holding each other. Monica was happy again. She had her son back. After about an hour she started to doze off when she heard him start to speak.

"Mom," he said.

"Yeah baby,"she replied.

"I need ash you a queshin," he was slurring badly.

"OK," she replied again, starting to worry.

He looked at her, "Diju mean it?" he asked

"Yes David, I did," she told her son.

"Do you shtill?" he asked meakly.

She smiled lovingly at him and caressed his hair. "Yes baby, yes. I still do," she whispered into his ear.

They slept until Monica woke from stiffness due to the awkward position. She guided David to her bed and helped him off with his shes and socks. She then laid down next to him and they slept some more.

Monica woke to the feeling of her robe opening and rolled toward her son. He stopped like he was caught doing something he shouldn't be, and perhaps he was, but his mom just smiled.

"It's OK," she said, opening her robe up for him the rest of the way, "I love you you know."

"I love you too mom," he said with a warm smile.

"We love each other, and we are not going to fall in love with each other, but I will fulfill every need you have until the time comes for you to find the one who you will fall in love with," the words flowed from her lips, them her lips pressed against his. Their tongues were soon dancing and her leg moved over his. As she started to climb atop him he stopped. 

"Hold on mom, I have to piss," he said and took off to the bathroom.

Monica couldn't help but laugh, "Brush your teeth too." His breath was nasty.

He returned to her naked and hard. He leaned over the bed and kissed his mother deeply. He was confused no more. It felt so good, and her hand gripped him as they kissed. She broke the kiss and her hand slid through his thick chest hair as he stood. She wrapped her lips around her sons manhood for this first time and heard him gasp with pleasure. Monica's right hand cupped his balls as she supported herself on that elbow. Her left hand squeezed his ass as she sucked his hard cock deep into her mouth over and over until she knew he was cumming. As the first blast entered her mouth she started to swallow. Hoping to get it all and please her new lover. She thought it would never end, but she drank him down. Deep down, one, two, three more times before releasing him with a pop.

He kissed her deeply again, tasting his own sperm on her tongue and not caring. "That was amazing mom," he said.

"Glad ya liked it," she replied, smiling widely, "Now lets go get some breakfast so we can come back up and fuck the day away."

David had a concerned look so Monica said, "What's wrong?" a bit concerned now herself.

Nervously, "I want to make love to you first."

"Oh sweetheart, of course," she replied sweetly, "now lets get some food."

They both went to breakfast nude, and the look on the servers face was enough to make them both burst out in laughter. After breakfast they embraced at the table and kissed, eyes closed, sucking each others lips and tongues, hands roaming freely, bodies pressed hard together. They kissed that way for nearly twenty minutes before David lifted his mother and carried her off to bed.

In the bedroom he placed her gently on the bed and kissed her again. This time they both kept their eyes open, staring intently into one another. His hand moved up her stomach to her breast and she moaned into his mouth. He kneaded her breasts as the kissed. He moved between her thighs and was about to enter. No turning back after this. Her legs spread and he melted into her. Every smooth escape and every quick penetration produced intense pleasure. They both came quickly. Cumming together, coupling as one.




The Personal Ad



They lay in the afterglow.

"That was beautiful David," she said to her son, then added, "We're gonna' have to work hard at not falling in love."

"We'll be just fine mom," he replied, "we need each other too much to fuck it up."

David leaned over and sucked her nipple into his mouth. The feeling was so intense at first that she wanted to squirm away, but she resisted. It was almost like he was nursing for a minute, then he started to make out with her tit. moving his mouth, sucking, and rolling his tongue. Pressing firmly, them soft. When Davids hand reached her other nipple and he rolled between his thumb and finger, Monica wanted to cum more than anything. Her hand reached down between her own legs and she entered herself. She was so hot, it was as if she were trying to put her whole hand inside, but then she stiffened. Monica's orgasm hit like a brick. She quivered for nearly a minute. 

"Now we're even," he said smiling.

"Oh no buddy boy, I work for you remember," she told him. "What is my salary anyway?" she asked.

"You've got to be joking," he said, "five hundred a week is what I was going to pay, but you don't really want me to pay you do you?"

"Of course I do," was her reply, "this is a business arrangement. This way when you stop paying me we can move on and I can go back to just being mom again."

It all seemed logical in her mind and apparently she convinced him because he quickly agreed.

"As your mom, you need to get your ass back to school tonight," Monica stated, then continued, "but as your girlfriend, I will meet you there in a couple days. And speaking of butts. There is one first we have yet to explore. Please be gentle."

She just offered him her ass and he couldn't believe it. He turned her over doggie-style started to lube his mothers ass with hair conditioner. Sounds funny but it's great lube. It was amazing to feel his finger entering and exiting his moms anus. A little dab of lube for his shaft and David began slowly, but firmly pushing his cock head against his moms pucker. 

"Push out mom," he instructed," it will relax the muscle and let me in much easier."

It felt strange to her but Monica did as he said and he slid right in. There was a little pain at first, but then he stopped and allowed her anus to adjust, after that it was all pleasure.

He pulled almost all the way out, then slowly all the way back in. He did that for a few minutes, then he really got into it.

"God mom your ass feels so good," he grunted, ass he gripped her hips and pounded her.

"That's it baby," she grunted right back, "fuck it baby. fuck my virgin ass." She was doing it for him but Monica was really starting to enjoy this ass pounding her son was giving her. 

He pushed hard into her ass as he started to cum, then pulled back and pushed hard again three or four times as he came inside her. When he was spent they collapsed in a heap, with his semi-hard dick still planted in moms asshole.

"OK dear you can take it out now. It's getting uncomfortable really quick in there," she said, trapped under her sons weight.

"Oh sorry," was his response as he rolled off her, freeing himself from her backside.

"That wasn't bad at all," she said, "I actually kinda' liked it. What we're doing may be all bad but it damn sure feels good."

"I'll second that," David said, heading toward the shower, "guess I've gotta' plane to catch."

"Yes you do," his mother agreed.

Two hours later David was riding to the airport with his mothers lips wrapped, once again, around his seemingly ever hard rod, and an hour after that he was in the air on his way back to school. 

Monica went back home to make all the arrangements and a week later she would meet him near campus to start looking for a place to stay.



The Personal Ads



You walk into the pub slowly, your nervousness making you a bit cautious. You glance around the room trying to match the picture you received, not an easy task when the head was blacked out. A dirty laugh fills the room as you spot a somewhat voluptuous woman sitting at the bar, chortling over something the man beside her must have said. Her t-shirt is stretched tight over her large breasts, her nipples making tiny bumps in the fabric. Wondering, you approach her. 

"Alexis?" you ask, your head tilted to one side.

Swiveling my chair to face you I smile, "Hey, how's it goin'." I pull out the chair next to me and you slide in. 

"Been here long?" you inquire. 

"Nah, maybe 10 minutes," I reply, pointing to my nearly full beer bottle. 

"Sam Adams" you tell the bartender as he comes to take your order.

We make idle chatter, "How long have you lived in Cali" "What kind of music do you like," the usual questions people ask of strangers as we both try to discretely check the other out. We laugh as one beer turns into two and somehow our chairs seem to move a little closer. It gets noisier in the bar and you lean over to hear me, your hand resting on my thigh. 

"I said, do you think we should go," I repeat, enjoying the warmth of your fingers. 

"Sure, yeah, uh, good idea," you say as you push your seat back.

We walk slowly back to the parking lot, stopping at my car. 

"Well, my place is just a couple blocks from here, do you wanna head over there," you ask, "I can give you directions, it's pretty easy to find." 

"Sure," I answer, "let's get in the car and I'll write down your address." I turn, opening the doors as we both get into the cold car.

"Lemme just get some paper out of the glove box," I tell you as I reach across your lap.

Gently you rub my nipple with your forefinger as I fumble around, pretending to look for paper. 

"Whatcha doin'," I ask coyly, feeling my nipple harden as I sit back up. 

"Errr, nothing, sorry 'bout that," you mumble, looking at the floor. 

"Well isn't that what we're here for," I laugh, reaching down and placing your right hand on my breast. You smile at me as I notice the first signs of lust in your eyes. Tenderly you squeeze my breast as I slowly lick my lips with my tongue. I push my swollen tit against your fingers as my pussy does a slow grind into the seat. 

"Mmmm," I moan as you begin to softly caress my other breast with your left hand. 

"Oh God," you whisper and I feel myself start to become wet. I start to pull my shirt up, dying to feel your fingers on my naked flesh. 

"Alexis, Jesus, we're in the parking lot," you stammer. 

"It's OK," I assure you, "just for a minute, k?" Your eyes widen as you take in the sight of my full breasts straining against black lace. You slide your fingers between the lace and my tit, pulling on my tight nipple. I stare at your crotch, watching you get hard as my panties get wetter. I feel you unhooking my bra. As my breasts fall free you scoop them up, marveling at their weight as your lips begin to suck.

The sound of people returning to their cars seems to excite us even further and I rub my hand across your jeans. 

"May I?" I ask, dying to see your cock. 

"Yes," you mumble, your teeth gently nibbling at my sensitive buds. I unzip your pants and pull out your rock hard dick. As I rub your cock with my left hand I slide my right fingers into my jeans, into my panties and cover them with my juice. I bring my hand out and reach down, rubbing the warm liquid into the head of your dick. Your cock glistens as I stroke the underside of your taut balls.

I slide over and sit in your lap, your face buried in my tits, my nipples aching. The only sound in the car is that of us breathing, our breaths getting shorter and shorter as I rub your dick against the outside of my jeans. 

"I wanna come so bad," you groan, grabbing my tits and squeezing them together. 

"You will baby," I tell you as I lean down and wrap my tits around your cock. Slowly you fuck them as my fingers run a line between your balls and your ass. 

"God, I love your tits," you cry, your hips thrusting faster against my chest. 

"Come for me baby, come on my tits," I groan, fingering myself, so turned on at the sight of your cock sliding between my huge mounds. 

"Fuck, oh shit, God, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," you moan as your thick cum begins to ooze across my chest, my throat. I laugh softly, rubbing your sperm into my skin, tasting my fingers, licking the tip of you clean with my tongue... 



The Personal Assistant



Chapter One - The Interview

The listing with the headhunter was pretty straightforward: PERSONAL ASSISTANT NEEDED, Must be dedicated, Work intimately with company president, Wide variety of responsibilities, Excellent pay, Many benefits, Long hours. That was it in a nutshell. All I wanted was the best person for the job. Someone to take care of the details, both business and personal, with which a successful businessman has to deal. I'm active in the community as well, charity functions and social and civic engagements dot an already hectic schedule. The person hired for this position would need to circulate comfortably in any of these areas. I knew going in that finding just the right individual was going to be difficult, but this was beginning to seem impossible.

My last appointment of the day was with an applicant that the agency was sending over. It hadn't been a particularly trying day, still I wasn't too keen on the idea of interviewing another sub par candidate. I was reviewing the resume the agency had faxed over and it didn't appear to have any glaring problems. On paper, Darla Padgett looked pretty good. As a matter of fact, she seemed a cut above the men and women who had been parading through my office. What I needed was an assistant who could hire an assistant, but if I had one, I wouldn't be looking for one would I? Boy, this was getting to me!

There was a knock on my office door and as it opened a crack, Jennie, the temp informed me that my five o'clock appointment was here. I motioned Jennie to show her in and told her that I wouldn't be needing her anymore that day, that she could take off, put the phone on night service and lock the door behind her when she left. She thanked me, showed Miss Padgett in and disappeared in a flash. In walked one of the most striking redheads that I'd ever seen, hair shoulder length, green eyes, and full lips. I guess I didn't hide my surprise very well, given the smile on Miss Padgett's face. Clearly, she was pleased by my reaction to her. 

As I shook her hand and bade her to take a seat, I noticed her beautifully manicured long silver blue nails. Obviously, they were colored to match her gray business suit. Even at that, the cut of her suit fit her well. Snugly fitting her waist and hips, yet flaring open on top to reveal a diaphanous black blouse which covered a full bosom, stopping several inches above the knees exhibiting slender shapely legs. A pair of black pumps completed the outfit. In my estimation, the perfect attire for an interview with single male, desperate for a qualified assistant.

"Well, Miss Padgett, did you have any trouble finding us?" I began.

"Oh, call me Darla. No, Mr. Saunders, none at all." She replied, crossing those lovely legs.

"Doug is fine. Well Darla, I hope they filled you in at the agency as to what I'm looking for in an assistant."

"Yes, they were adamant about the dedication and loyalty you're interested in."

"And you think you possess those qualities?"

"Without a doubt." 

I liked the confident way she presented herself. I've always found confidence to be very sexy. This was beginning to look more and more like the package I'd been searching for. 

"I need someone to look after the details of my life. Make appointments, and then make sure I keep them. Arrange social events. See that I'm on time and that my commitments or met. Keep an eye out for me, watch my back. I need someone to be my right hand, to jump when I say jump. Can you give me that kind of devotion?"

"This is just the atmosphere I've been seeking. To aid a forceful, competent man. To contribute to the success of a man of vision, who knows what he wants and has the ambition to attain it. I want serve in whatever capacity that's needed." 

The look in Darla's eye told me that she was sincere, but I wasn't sure of the other signals she was sending. Was I just imagining the sexual overtones or was that the message she was sending? Was this woman, half my age, really suggesting a more involved relationship? The mischievous glint in her eye told me that I wasn't fantasizing about the possibilities.

Darla leaned forward in her chair to make her point and said, "I'm prepared to serve you in any position you require. It's my nature to be subservient. Let me make it clear that I will do anything, anything to please you."

Now we were heading into an area which I'd never anticipated. Could she possibly mean 'anything'? How could I put this to the test without courting serious trouble? I knew she was waiting to be tested. 

"I like the women who work for me to wear skirts or dresses whenever possible. It that a problem?" I asked, knowing I was treading on dangerous ground.

"Oh, no. Not a all. I love to show off my legs. Do you like them?" She answered moving the hem of her skirt up a few more inches.

"Why yes," I assured her, "Would you ever have a problem serving as my escort to formal social functions?"

Rising, Darla removed her jacket revealing the lacy brassiere beneath her sheer blouse. "Only if you think that I would look good in an evening gown." She teased.

We were plainly bound for less businesslike territory. The line had been crossed and there was no reason not to explore how far this might go. These opportunities are too rare to ignore. What the hell, why not jump in with both feet?

"What if I told you that you should never wear panties in the office?"

Darla's hands disappeared under her skirt and before I knew it, there was a pair of black lace panties on my desk.

Hands defiantly on hips, she repeated, "Anything!"

I picked up the panties from the desk and held them up in front of my eyes. I was not surprised to see the Victoria's Secret tag on them. There were also a few stray red pubic hairs visible on the crotch. I brought the crotch to my nose and inhaled the scent of Darla's sex. A smile spread across the full lips of their previous owner. I pocketed the panties and moved out from behind the desk. Positioning myself between Darla and the desk, I leaned back making no effort to conceal the lump which had developed in my crotch. While not fully erect, my cock was well on it's way to being in need of attention. 

"I was wondering when we'd get around to my qualifications for the job," smiled Darla as she undid the buckle of my belt and unfastened and unzipped my trousers. "I see we have a situation here that needs dealing with. Let's see if Darla can't be of some assistance."

My trousers dropped to the floor and quickly my shorts had joined them. My cock began swelling to it's fullest, average in length, but quite thick. Immediately, Darla fell to her knees and began fondling my manhood.

"Mmmmm..., I think I know what is needed here," the redhead offered, "a little TLC, I think. Here, let's get you comfortable."

With that, Darla lifted my penis out of the way and began kneading and squeezing my balls, pulling them down from between my thighs and massaging them in her soft, expert hands. It felt wonderful to be attended to in such a caring way. The pressure on my balls increased little by little and then freeing a hand, Darla began stroking my dick firmly. Her hand was so soft and smooth that it felt as if my member was encased in satin. 

Precum appeared on the head of my dick and the tip of her tongue quickly cleaned it away. I guess the taste of my precum made Darla hungry for more and she initiated a series of long, slow licks up and down the entire length of my shaft. Occasionally, she stopped to suck on my balls, drawing them into her warm mouth. First one, then the other, she bit gently on my sacs. 

"I love the way you taste," she gasped, "I want all of you in my mouth!"

"Ssssssss, yes!" I whispered, trying to control myself. "Suck me," I ordered her, "Take me down your throat!"

Inch by inch, by cock passed her lips and filled her warm, wet mouth. I looked down on the hot redhead attaching herself to my manhood and knew I had found my assistant. Faster, her head bobbed up and down on me. I was amazed that she hadn't passed out from lack of oxygen. Yet, Darla continued her assault. The entire length of my thick cock was engulfed by this accomplished cocksucker. 

"Yeah, baby," I moaned, "Suck me, suck me! Oh, yes! Don't stop!"

I knew I was asking the impossible and that this couldn't last forever, but I held out. Suppressing my orgasm was a test of my will. Yet, my hot seed was building into a force that would not be denied. Involuntarily, I felt my hips begin to move back and forth. My motion meeting the head movements of my fellatrix.

Darla paused for a split second, the mixture of precum and saliva hanging in a string from her lips to the head of my dick, and gasped, "Fuck my mouth!"

I took her head in my hands and began to pump her mouth with my swollen dick. From the very first stroke my shaft entered her mouth completely, finding it's way to the back of her throat. I looking down into her beautiful green eyes and saw the look of satisfaction there. Her muffled moans of pleasure encouraged me to continue my invasion of her mouth.

The pleasure was becoming too intense to contain. The feeling of my dick in Darla's warm mouth, the sounds that both of us were emitting, the perfectly coordinated movements of our bodies was far too much for me to command. I felt my load rushing up the length of my cock.

"Oh, God! Oh, fuck! God!" I screamed as my cum exploded into Darla's mouth. 

I looked into those eyes as I filled her mouth with, stream after stream of my warm seed. She was enjoying every drop and squeezed my balls as if to say she wanted every last one I had. And not a drop was wasted. Every bit of spunk was consumed by my talented new assistant. 

I helped Darla up from her knees and kissed her, slipping my tongue into her mouth. She responded by entwining her tongue with mine. I love the taste of sex. The taste of me in her mouth was a treat indeed. 

As we continued to kiss, I slipped two fingers into her, now pantyless, cunt. How warm and welcoming it was. I fingerfucked her for a few moments in order to completely coat my fingers with her juices. Removing them, I brought them to our lips and together we consumed Darla's sex juices. This merely whetted my appetite for the delights my new assistant had to offer. 

"I think you've got the job." I allowed.

"I knew you'd like my qualifications." She smiled.

"But, everyone who works here must pass a complete physical, you know."

"Oh, I see."

"Follow me," I said taking her hand, "I'm ready to give you your examination immediately."

"Yes, sir." 

Darla dutifully followed me into the other office.

Chapter Two - The Physical

We must have been quite a sight as we hustled into my private office. As least I probably was, holding up my trousers with one hand and leading Darla with the other. I didn't give a damn because shortly we would be discarding most of our clothes. Just to keep things interesting, I continued with the 'physical charade' just to see if my new assistant would play along.

"So tell me, Miss Padgett, how have you been feeling? Any complaints or discomfort of any kind?" I began.

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes," she replied, "I've had a very persistent throbbing."

"Really, can you show me exactly what's been bothering you?"

"Right here," she said, hiking up her skirt and exposing her red pubic hair, "I haven't been able to make it stop. The more I rub it, the more it seems to throb."

"I understand. The more you scratch, the more it itches?"

"Exactly."

"Let me have a closer look," I instructed, rising from behind my desk. "Spread your legs for me and I'll see if I can't diagnose the problem."

Doing as instructed, Darla parted her thighs and accepted my probing fingers. I slid into her wet hole and felt the sugar coated walls of her cunt. Next I rubbed her mound and experienced the silkiness of her pussy. 

Her repeated moans of pleasure invited me to continue with my faux exam. Bending to one knee, I used both hands and with my fingertips, gently spread her labia apart exposing her inner lips and sticky pink hole. She was as beautiful between the legs as she was everywhere else. Darla was obviously pleased with the admiration I expressed for her genitalia. What a wonderful surprise to see her exercise her vaginal muscles as I viewed her. Expanding and contracting them in a way that only a young, well-toned woman could. The slightest trickle of juice ran from her and towards the crack of her ass.

"Everything seems to be just fine down there." I teased, "Perhaps we should do a more thorough exam. Please remove the remainder of your garments."

Darla stood in front of me, and without the slightest hesitation, unbuttoned her transparent blouse and tossed it aside. The skirt followed immediately afterwards. As her hands disappeared behind her back, the lacy brassiere ceased cupping her full round breasts, and momentarily hung from her wrists.

In a flash, Darla whipped the sexy undergarment at me joking, "You already have my panties, you may as well complete the set."

Indeed, I secreted my prizes away in my desk drawer and informed her, "That will be just fine, I believe." 

Leaving her dressed in garter belt, stockings and heels.

My brand new assistant was an exhibitionist, if ever there was one. She reveled in the opportunity to parade her flawless, naked body in front of her appreciative boss. Cupping her full breasts and pinching her already hard nipples, running her hands down her hard, taut torso, continuing along her hips until she reached the insides of her thighs. What a show of decadence. My own private show and it was having the desired effect. Again my cock was hardening and my heart pumping a mile a minute. 

Our roll playing proceeded as I removed my shirt and tie and approached my subject. I took her tits in my hands and fondled them, bringing a smile to both our faces. I tenderly kissed each and then gently nipped each hard nipple with my teeth, eliciting a sigh of approval from Darla's lips. Biting more firmly roused her to grasp my head and hold it, signaling me to increase the pleasure of her discomfort. I relished this moment of power. Inflicting even this slight bit of pain satisfied me.

"Ouch, yes! It hurts! Harder! Make it hurt!," cried Darla, "Bite me harder, you fucker, make me hurt, damn it! Prove you're the boss, show me who's in charge!" She bit her lip as I bit her nipples. My lust was incited my her squirming.

"So you like it nice and nasty, do you?"

"The nastier the better. Push my limits, I can handle."

"Turn around!"

"Yes, sir." She said with a smirk.

"Now spread your feet, bend over and grab your ankles."

What an incredible sight! I removed my trousers and shorts and discarded them across the room. As I approached, my erection waved in front of me.

"Does the big boss man like what he sees?"

God, she sure knows how to ask for it doesn't she? Well, I'm just the guy to give it to her. As soon as I was near enough, I gave her a severe whack on that perfect little ass. It must have stung because she let out with a sincere yell. Before she could say another word, I let her have it on the other cheek. Again she squealed from the impact. I loved the feeling of power and the way she offered herself to me. I decided to inspect Darla's exquisite ass a bit more closely. 

My large hands grabbed her asscheeks and felt the firmness. So smooth and perfect were they that I could have fondled them for hours. Bending forward, I placed a kiss on each of those perfect globes. Then, gripping a cheek in each hand, I separated them exposing her crack as well as her puckered anus. I laid my hard cock in her crack and allowed the flesh of her cheeks to close around it. Slowly, I started rubbing the underside of my shaft up and down on her. Quickly, the pace picked up and I was slapping my balls against her backside with each forward stroke. 

"Such a good girl, aren't you? You know just how to make your boss happy, don't you?"

"Yes, sir! You're the boss. Whatever you want. I said 'anything'."

A dozen strokes later and my cum was spewing across her ass. Stream after stream of my hot ball juice was deposited on Darla's ass and back.

"Don't move, I'm not finished with you." I ordered.

I ran the fingers of my right hand through my warm cum, coating them completely. As the tip of my index finger touched her butthole, she twitched involuntarily.

"Don't move." I repeated, giving her ass a little slap.

My fingertip eased past her rosy butthole, she moaned and obeyed. A little bit at a time I worked my digit up her ass. My cum acted as a lubricant and I easily pierced her. After working one finger around inside her, I added a second. Darla really seemed to be enjoying being penetrated this way. In short order, we developed a rhythm and her ass was moving to meet my probing fingers. The strong fingers of my right hand continued their task, but I couldn't resist some nasty talk. 

"You love this don't you, Darla? You need a strong man to put you to good use, don't you? Now that I know what a horny thing you are, we should get along just fine. You're a very bad girl and you should do quite nicely here. This relationship could be very rewarding for both of us, don't you agree?"

"Oh, yes," she replied breathlessly, " I'll do whatever you want."

"That's my good little fucktoy!"

Having Darla at my mercy was intoxicating, to be sure. She'd already surrendered herself to the pleasure of having her ass fingerfucked by a man who she'd only laid eyes on less than two hours ago. The bizarre nature of this whole encounter was not lost on me. I'd never had an experience even remotely similar to this one, yet I was wholeheartedly participating in an evening of unrestrained decadence. Here I had a woman who had committed herself to total submission to a man she had just met and who had performed every act required without question. Who had even invited abuse at the hands of someone who would control her future, financial and otherwise. 

This had become more than an interview. If this was the opening up of a relationship, could there be any limits to the twisted pleasures that lie ahead. How kinky were the needs of this woman? How fantastic might her desires become? How dangerous could this temptress be to my future, both personal and professional? Is this the woman who would satisfy my wildest fantasies? Or is she the demon who might lead me to ruin? 

Am I crazy to even be thinking these thoughts? Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I'd be in the middle of such a incredible scene. Was I afraid of my own desires and what they might lead to? Who's in control? I am using her or is she using me? Thoughts of all kinds raced through my brain. I'd become dizzy from the scenarios spinning in my mind and from the feelings of lust that this woman had laid bare in me. For a few seconds I was standing outside this scene, watching myself pleasuring this beautiful young woman. Watching myself working over her asshole with one hand while my other hand had found her clitoris and was manipulating it as she screamed with delight.

And in a split-second the decision had been made. The path chosen. Passion had won. The consequences of what lie ahead were never considered. Almost as if it had been preordained, I bent Darla over the top of my desk and took her from behind. She accepted my thick cock easily. Leaning on her elbows, her red hair hanging down around her beautiful face, her body moving to meet my thrusts, she knew I'd not have the will to resist her. 

"Fuck me," she repeated over and over, "Fuck me!" Almost like a mantra, she repeated it over and over again. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" Every time my dick slammed into her she demanded more, "Fuck me, fuck me!" 




The Personal Assistant



As I touched up my makeup in the ladies room I thought about what was likely to happen when I went back to the table. No, that wasn't true - I knew what was going to happen - what I wondered about were the likely outcomes from what was going to happen. It wasn't every day that my boss asked me to "take care" of a large group of people and I had to wonder why he thought that I would go along with it. Granted that I was letting him bed me even though I was a married woman, but that didn't make me a slut. Or did it? I guess that would be a matter of perspective. I didn't think of myself as a slut, but it was a good bet that my husband would - if he knew. I would just have to make sure that he never did.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Once upon a time I was a fairly boring housewife and mother who stayed at home and took care of the zoo. Then the kids grew up and suddenly I was looking at an empty nest. For the first month I was in Heaven. No pressure and lots of free time for myself and then I ran out of things to do around the house. I quickly found that nothing but a steady diet of daytime soaps would turn your brain to mush so I got off my buns and went out looking for a job.

It did not take long at all to realize those twenty-one years of being a stay at home wife and mother did not arm me with the skills that would translate into the current job market. After two weeks of steady looking I had found nothing. Oh there were jobs I could have gotten; convenience store clerk on the night shift for one, but I wasn't the least bit interested in stocking shelves at oh dark-thirty or flipping burgers.

I'd just spent ten hours pounding the pavement answering ads with no luck. My husband was out of town - again - and I was in no mood to hurry home to an empty house so I stopped at a lounge to enjoy a drink. The drink turned into three and then the waitress came over and told me that a gentleman at the bar wanted to buy me a drink.

"Do you know him? Is he really a gentleman or is he just trying to get lucky?"

She laughed and said, "I don't really know about the gentleman part honey. He's in here two or three times a week and he has never caused any trouble and that's all I can say about him."

"Tell him I accept" and then I did something totally out of character and added, "Providing that he joins me."

As the waitress walked away I wondered what in the world had possessed me to do that?

His name was Bob and the word that described him best was 'pleasant'. He was pleasant looking, had a pleasant personality and he was pleasant company. Not much for originality though. His opening after the name exchange was, "And what's a pretty girl like you doing all alone in a place like this?"

I almost laughed, but since I wasn't the least bit interested in letting myself be picked up, but did want some company at the table I behaved myself. We talked and had several more drinks as I explained to him the trials and tribulations of my job search.

"I can sympathize with you. I'm having as much trouble finding someone willing to work for me as you are trying to find a job."

My ears perked up when I heard that and he noticed and laughed, "No, I don't think so. You just are not the type."

"How do you know that? We just met and you don't know anything about me."

"I know you are married."

"What has that got to do with it? Just what is the job?"

"Personal assistant."

"You are probably right then. I haven't done any typing since high school."

"Personal assistants don't type; I have secretaries for that stuff."

"What does a personal assistant do?"

"Waits on me hand and foot. She takes care of all the little odds and ends that tend to clutter up an already too busy schedule. Follows along behind me with a pad and pen to make notes, reminds of appointments and meetings, sees to it that my dry cleaning gets sent out, makes sure that I remember important birthdays and anniversaries and takes care of a whole host of other personal needs."

"Sounds like just what I have been doing for the last twenty years - waiting hand and foot on two kids and a husband. What does a job like that pay?"

"My last assistant was making eighty grand a year before her husband made her quit."

"What would make a man make his wife give up that kind of money? That's more than my husband makes."

"I guess he didn't like some facets of her job. She didn't mind them, but I guess her marriage mattered enough to her that she gave in to him."

"What facets of the job didn't he like?"

"She had to travel with me on business three or four times a month and I guess he got upset at some of the personal things she had to do."

"Hell, my husband travels more than that. He wouldn't even miss me because he would be on the road too. What personal things didn't her husband like?"

"Look, I'm a very busy man most of the time and I don't have the time to take care of some things. One of the things that Mellisa did was arrange for some of my personal urges to be taken care of."

"You mean she arranged sexual meetings for you? Found you women?"

"Sometimes."

"What does that mean?"

"Sometimes she couldn't find anyone."

Suddenly what he was saying dawned on me. "Oh, oh my. And her husband found out?"

"No, he just suspected, but it was enough to make her quit."

"Quitting a job that paid that much just because he was suspicious? If it was me he would damned well have had to know for sure before I'd give it up."

By that point it was the booze that was talking, not the real me and when Bob said, "Are you telling me that you could take on a job like that?"

"For that kind of money? In a heartbeat!"

"Okay, let's get the job interview out of the way."

"What?"

"My office is just across the street. I want to get you over there and fill out the application before you sober up and chicken out."

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It had to have been the liquor because I wasn't that kind of woman or at least I didn't used to be, but five minutes after we entered his office he entered me. The surprising thing to me was that I didn't feel any guilt at cheating on my husband. Bob was the first man other than my husband to have me since the day of my wedding almost twenty-one years before. It was sex at its most elemental. I was on my back on Bob's desk with my skirt up around my waist and the gusset of my panties pushed to the side to give him entrance. He did lose his trousers, but he still had his shirt, tie, shoes and socks on. He banged away at me and I clutched his butt cheeks with my hands, wrapped my legs around him and moaned in pleasure. I climaxed twice before he came and when it was over he said, "That is going to be part of your duties. Do you still want the job?"

I guess that deep inside me there must have been some brazen hussy because I smiled and said, "I get that and money too? Hell yes I want the job."

"Okay, you're hired."

He got up and put on his pants and then he picked up the phone.

"I'm ready Paul" and then he walked back to me and offered me a hand to help me up. "Come on my dear. You are on the payroll now and we have places to go and things to do."

There was a limo waiting at the curb when we walked out the front door and a uniformed chauffeur opened the rear door for us.

"Paul, this is Chrissi. She's my new PA. Chrissi, this is Paul and you will probably be spending an awful lot of time with him from now on. Give Paul your address."

"But my car is in the lounge parking lot."

"I'll arrange to have it taken care of. You won't be needing it from now on. Paul will be picking you up at seven in the morning and bringing you home at night."

I was just a little bit surprised when he dismissed Paul when we got to my home. Bob saw my look.

"You did say he was out of town, right?"

I nodded a yes.

"Good. It gives me time to get to know you better."

That night I was treated to the unique and mind-blowing experience of sliding up and down on another man's hard cock while taking my husbands nightly check in phone call. I couldn't explain what had happened in the four hours since I had met Bob, but I felt no guilt or remorse at cheating on Glenn, none! I loved Glenn dearly and I would die for the man if the need arose, but it didn't bother me one bit to fuck Bob.

The next morning Paul was waiting when Bob and I came out of the house at six forty-five and on the way to the office I got my rude awakening. You know the saying that if it sounds too good to be true, it is? Well, getting eighty thousand a year for being Bob's PA was too good to be true. Bob had said that when Mellisa had left she was making that much, but that was her total with bonuses, commissions and a few other things like a clothing allowance, and company credit cards. The actual salary was four thousand a month, which was still very good money. I spent most of the day filling out forms for life and health insurance and all kinds of other stuff. Then I was turned over to Bob's secretary who sat me down and explain in great detail what I was supposed to do as Bob's personal assistant (she didn't say a word about the sex part) and then she handed me a list and three company credit cards and told me to take the rest of the day and purchase what was on the list.

"Experience has shown that you will need these items at one time or another" and then she handed me a second list. "Have these items packed and ready to go because there are times you will be going out of town on a moments notice and you won't have time to go home and pack."

I looked at both lists and saw that they were mostly clothes. A full-length evening gown for a formal affair, business suits, cocktail dresses and the like.

"Try to have them all by tomorrow. Paul will drive you."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

That was almost six months ago and probably the most surprising thing to me about the job, considering the way it got started, was that Bob did not require my sexual services all that much. Mostly it was when we were out of town on trips and the sex on those trips was intense. Bob usually wanted to go all night and we usually did. At home we did have occasionally have some two-martini lunches that ended up in a hotel room, but it was rare unless my husband was out of town on business. If that were the case Bob would come over so he could be sliding his cock in me when I took my evening call from Glenn. For some reason he got a major charge out of that (for that matter, I did too) and doing it on Glenn's bed.

Bob had a philosophy - work hard and then go play. His day started at five-thirty and ended at six in the evening unless he had a dinner or some special event to attend. His theory was, "If you can't get it done in a twelve hour day it doesn't need to be done."

But those twelve-hour days were non-stop and many nights when Paul dropped me off all I wanted to do was soak my feet in the tub. A typical day for me started when Paul picked me up at seven. I had a cell phone that only one person - Bob - had the number to and between seven and five after seven it would ring and I would get my basic instructions for the start of the day.

"Set up an appointment with so and so. Must be before noon Friday. My tux is at the tailors being altered. Call them and tell them I must have it by three today and arrange to have it picked up. Call whatsis at XYZ and tell him I want his proposal no later than noon today. Don't let him messenger it, go and pick it up. My meeting with Billings is at nine-thirty and I need him distracted so show a lot of leg while you are taking notes. A low cut blouse wouldn't hurt either. Make sure that my schedule is clear from twelve-thirty to two and reserve us a room at the Hilton. I plan on fucking Billings during our negotiations and you know how horny that makes me. What have you got for me?"

I checked my Day-Timer, "You need to call your sister and wish her a Happy Birthday. Your yearly physical is for tomorrow at nine so no foods and nothing but water to drink after six tonight. You promised Baxter a call today about his inventory problem and like it or not, you promised your ex you would talk to her today about your daughters college plans."

"Shit! You know how much I hate hearing that bitch's name let alone having to talk with her. Oh well, I did promise. I'll see you when you get here."

How was my husband Glenn reacting to my new job? Amazed and stunned would be a pretty good description. Glenn had worked his butt off for twenty years to get to where he was making fifty-eight thousand a year and I go out and fall into a job that in six months has me almost making the same. My Christmas bonus from Bob was ten thousand and if I had worked for the full twelve months I would have made five thousand more than Glenn. Glenn certainly wasn't unhappy with the extra money coming in because it allowed him to splurge. We had lived comfortably on his income so my paycheck was like having a windfall. We bought a cabin on a lake, a boat and trailer and a Dodge Ram to pull it and started socking money away in the savings account.

Glenn isn't suspicious of anything that I'm doing because he thinks he knows exactly what it is. His boss has a PA and he pretty much sees what she does and the hours she puts in, but Sarah, while a beautiful person, is a mousy spinster type. There isn't anyway that Glenn could imagine her and Ralph getting it on so the thought that I might be doing more for Bob than Sarah does for Ralph just never occurs to him.

My hours and trips don't bother him because of the traveling he does. We always had the weekends together and things seemed to be working out just fine for us. Our sex life was fantastic. The more I fucked Bob the more erotic and wicked I felt when I made love to Glenn. When he asked why the sudden increase in intensity I told him about how Bob had me dress and sit so I would be a distraction to the men he did business with and that doing it made me all hot and horny and that I had to come home and take it out on him.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I never did get to where I felt guilt or remorse at hanging horns on Glenn; it was probably a flaw in my character. I loved Glenn to death and I would quit what I was doing in a heartbeat if it got to where it would cost me Glenn, but for the time being I was just having too much fun. I'd just have to work very hard at seeing that Glenn never had reason to get suspicious like Mellisa's husband did.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was shortly after the company Christmas party that Bob asked me if I would be willing to put a little extra effort into seeing that a certain corporate account stayed with us. I'd wondered when or if this would ever come up and I had given it tons and tons of thought. Without Bob even asking I knew what it was. It was how Mellisa, his last PA had earned so much more than I was currently making. He was wanting to know if I would be willing to service a customer. The company grapevine had already told me that Mellisa got commissions for seeing that certain customers were kept happy and now it was my turn. As I said, I'd given the matter lots of thought and had pretty much made up my mind what I would do if asked. The bottom line wasn't the commissions I might get, it was the job. I was in love with my job and I was afraid that if I said no my days would be numbered. Bob's PA took care of problems, this customer was a problem, ergo, the PA will handle it. So, as cheerily as I was able I said, "When and where?"

It was surprisingly easy. Bob and I met the customer for lunch at the Hilton and after a leisurely lunch, accompanied by several glasses of a very good wine, Bob excused himself to make some phone calls. I suggested to the customer that we go up to the company's hospitality suite and wait for Bob there. Five hours later and feeling like a slut, a very well used slut, Paul drove me home. 

On the drive home my eyes met Paul's in the rear view and I wondered if the grapevine had been right about him and Mellisa and how I would handle the situation if it ever came up. Paul was a very good-looking black man and I did have to admit to some curiosity about some of the things I had heard about black men. After that afternoon I had to wonder if one more cock would matter. I had taken care of the customer - three times - and he had no sooner gone when the door to the suite opened and Bob came in undressing as he moved toward me. He shocked the hell out of me by going down to his knees and burying his face in my well-used pussy. He also fucked me three times before letting me go. I came to find out that Bob's biggest turn ons were sloppy seconds and what he called cream pies. He just loved sucking another man's cum out of my pussy and over the course of the next year he got quite a bit of that from me.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

After that first time Bob would ask me, on the average of twice a month, to "handle" a particular account and I of course did and after each and every time Bob would come into the room, eat my pussy, and then soak his cock in the other man's leavings. It was quite kinky and I soon got to the point where I got an erotic charge out of it. Just before Bob would come into the room I would drag a finger through the mess and then suck the goo off my finger and roll it around in my mouth. Then Bob would come in and I would french kiss him as he entered me. Once I asked him why he never ate my pussy after I had fucked Glenn in the morning. 

"You know my rule when it comes to business sweetie, hit the ground running first thing in the morning, no time for sex until later in the day. Get Glenn to fuck you at lunch time and then come to me and I'll gladly do it."

I wondered if someday I could make it happen.

Bob had one other kink that also turned me on. He loved to have his cock in me when we were on a business trip and I was calling home to talk to my husband. At first I was terrified that I would moan or the bedsprings would squeak and that Glenn would hear and figure out what was happening, but I got over the fear and sometimes I got pretty aggressive sliding up and down on Bob's cock while telling Glenn how much I loved him and missed him. A couple of times it was a customers cock I was riding when I talked to Glenn and those times I had some intense orgasms.

Then Bob took me the next step. One night on a trip when I was supposed to take care of a customer Bob stayed in the room with us. I had my first double penetration and I absolutely loved it. It gave me such a feeling of power to know that I had those two powerful businessmen at my beck and call and that I could get them to do anything. In reality it was just the other way round - they could, and did, get me to do anything. They turned me every which way but loose. My phone call to Glenn that night found me with a cock in my pussy and one up my butt. After that night there were more threesomes and a couple of foursomes, all on out of town trips and I honestly looked forward to them.

Tonight would be very different. Tonight I would be crossing a Rubicon of sorts. It was an executive retreat and most of the company's high ranking officers were in attendance and Bob had asked me to serve as "hostess" in the company's hospitality suite. This would be the first time I played with people that I worked with on a daily basis at the office. Up until then it had always been a customer or a supplier and not someone I was in daily contact with. That and the fact that there were twelve of them would make this a very different night indeed.

One last look at my lipstick and I turned and headed back to the table and....?



The Personal Assistant



The personal ad in the back section of the New York Review of Books caught my eye immediately:

Widow seeks personal assistant. Must be well-educated, worldly-wise, well-traveled, have impeccable taste, be totally discreet, loyal, and available 24/7. Excellent salary. On-the-job training as appropriate. Send résumé to Box 7532.

I had risen rapidly through the ranks in the Air Force, reaching the rank of colonel by my early forties. My last posting before I voluntarily retired was to NATO headquarters in Brussels—hardly a hardship post! Officially, I was senior planning office for a three star but my real job was to act as a gofer for visiting dignitaries and their wives: find the best hotels, the fanciest restaurants, the best nightclubs and more if a congressman happened to come unaccompanied by his wife. I confess I enjoyed doing it—I became a regular mister fixit who could arrange almost anything at the last minute while avoiding any hint of impropriety. 

Because the Air Force was generous with its leave time, I was able to visit all the major cities of Western Europe including—especially including—Paris. However, I was not really interested in the politicking and ass kissing necessary to move up to brigadier general. Besides, I was divorced which meant I couldn't do the entertaining and socializing expected of a general. I had put in 20 years in the Air Force, which made me eligible for a nice retirement package, and I was restless. More out of boredom than anything else, I mailed a copy of my résumé to the listed box number.

A call came about two weeks later. On the phone, a curt, cultured voice that seemed to belong to an older woman, said "I'll see you at 3:00 P.M.," gave a day and an address, and hung up before I could say anything. "What the hell," I thought, "she must have seen something on my résumé that appealed to her. I'll go." 

Fitzgerald's famous line that the rich are different from you and me began to creep up on me as I approached the barred entrance to the address I had been given. "This is James Welch," I spoke into the telephone box by the gate, "I'm here for a three o'clock interview." There was no reply, but the gate swung open, and I drove what must have been about a hundred yards to the entrance of an imposing but not overwhelming tutor mansion.

A maid in a classic maid's uniform answered the door and led me to what I supposed was called the library where the widow was seated. Although I guessed her to be much older than I was, she was stunning. Thick white hair tastefully coiffed and cut in the back just above the neckline of her tailored vest, small, silver earrings that peeked out from her partially covered ears, delicate, ever so slightly fleshy skin, a full, fascinating, mouth with slightly down turned corners that gave a hint of cruelty, long, unpainted nails, and black leather boots that disappeared under her skirt.

I spoke first, "How shall I address you?" "Madame Whitney," she replied, "or simple madam. And let me say straight off," she continued, "I say what's on my mind and I have a keen nose for bullshit, so take this chair beside me and let's see if you can live up to that inflated résumé you sent me." My stint at NATO where I was often required to move diplomatically and easily among my betters, so-to-speak, seemed to impress her.

"Are you in good shape?" she asked out of the blue.

"Yes I am, in very good shape."

"Good, I like men with hard bodies. Do you drink?"

"Only socially, never alone."

"And do you smoke?"

"No madam."

"Good, because I'm the only one who's allowed to smoke around here."

"And can you give a deep massage?"

"Yes, I'm very good at that."

"Now back to your résumé. Je vois que vous avez écrit que vou parler français courramment. C'est vrai?" [I see that you have written that you speak French fluently. Is that so?]

"Madame Whitney, votre accent est impeccable." [Madame Whitney, your accent is impeccable.]

"Et monsieur, votre accent est horrible! You also claim to know Paris quite well. Do you really? Surely you know all the famous hotels on the right bank, but what is the best hotel on the left bank?"

"I would recommend the Lutetia," I said. "The Germans certainly thought so during the occupation."

"And are you familiar with Boulevard Victor Hugo?"

"I know it quite well"

"Then you may have passed by my favorite tobacconist. This is where my late departed husband bought me this lighter"—she handed it to me—"this silver cigarette case, and this elegant holder"

"Your husband had excellent tastes Madame Whitney."

"Yes, and other rather refined tastes as well."

With this, she opened the cigarette case and took out a long Pall Mall.

"That's the same kind of unfiltered cigarette my mother used to smoke," I blurted out.

"And did she smoke it in a holder?"

"As a matter of fact she did."

"Umm," she murmured as she carefully inserted the cigarette into her holder and leaned forward for a light, reaching out to steady my hand. But just before she lowered the tip of her cigarette into the flame she startled me totally.

"Did it arouse you when your mother smoked with a holder?" My hand gave an involuntary tremble that she sensed immediately. She inhaled deeply and laughed, "I must have hit a sensitive nerve. Adolescent boys are such raging bags of hormones. When my own son was a teenager he could hardly hide the bulge in his pants when he watched me smoke and I'm sure that it still turns him on. I'd often tease him about his little soldier standing at attention in my presence and I'll give him a deep, smoky kiss to show that I appreciated his involuntary salute."

I could tell that she was watching my reactions to this unexpected revelation, but suddenly she moved on to other matters.

I was in a daze for the rest of the interview, transfixed by the erotic impact of this singular woman. Contrary to I had always believed, here was a woman 20 years older than I was whose whole demeanor was magnetic. She exuded sensuality, complete self-confidence, and a sense of superiority—a woman born to command, and, as I was to find out, born to be worshipped and served. 

As I remember she was intensely interested in my tastes, my background, how I had handled delicate situations and how I would manage her servants--a cook, a maid, a butler, a gardener/handyman, a stable boy, and a night watchman with dog—should I be hired. Her personal assistant was to have access to her financial records and to screen incoming phone calls and letters, even the most personal ones. This assistant would help her shop, accompany her to gallery openings, intimate dinner parties, to weekends at other country houses, and eat with her when she was alone. 

"Obviously," she concluded, "my personal assistant will have my full trust and confidence in return for which I demand total loyalty, the utmost discretion, and complete devotion to my lifestyle. And you can be sure that I will pay an extravagant salary for such a person. Tell me, are the man I am looking for?"

"Yes, I think I am."—What else could I say? I was already in the thrall of this woman, this intoxicating witch who seemed to know my mind and my dark desires better than I would admit to myself.

"Good," she said getting up, "the maid will show you to your quarters where I expect you to be fully installed by the weekend. And by the way, you will notice a two-way intercom connecting my bedroom to yours. It's kept on all the time because when I can't sleep I'll expect you to get me hot tea and to talk if I feel so inclined." Truly, I was to be on duty 24/7.

Madame Whitney said that she expected me make myself familiar with the estate, meet her staff, and to breakfast with her on the patio on Tuesday.

By walking the boundary I estimated that the estate comprised about 300 acres, mostly covered with woods and horse trails. Nearer the house were stables, a riding ring, tennis courts, and an outdoor pool—a complement to the heated indoor pool. The mansion itself was much larger than it looked from the outside. There were probably eight bedrooms including mine, a large kitchen, a pool room, a library where Madame W. had interview me, a drawing room, a large dinning room, a sauna, a small gym with some rather unusual looking equipment including a massage table with tie-down straps, a large kitchen, and detached servant quarters. The four-car garage held a black Mercedes sedan, a yellow Ferrari, and a muddy jeep. A riding mower was in the fourth spot.

.At breakfast on Tuesday, Mme W. was wearing, sandals, and a gauzy sun dress that barely hid her remarkably firm breasts and fleshy legs. As soon as the maid brought us a continental breakfast with steaming café au lait, Mme began by going over the day's schedule: first, we shop for an evening dress, then a light lunch and off to look for boots, home for a swim, and a session with a hair stylist at the mansion in preparation for a dinner with friends that evening to which I was to escort her. With the breakfast dishes cleared away, Madame Whitney handed me the same lighter, cigarette case and holder I had seen in my interview. 

"One of the first little services I expect you to perform is that when I want a cigarette you are to place it in my holder, hand it to me, and give me a light."

I could tell that she found the whole transaction erotic and amusing, especially, when she inhaled deeply, drawing the lighter's flame into the end of her cigarette, and exhaled directly into my face.

"Did your mother ever do that to you?" she laughed. Without waiting for an answer she said that she had often teased her teenage son that way and, despite his feeble protests, that this gesture always excited him,

It was clear as our conversation went on that she was intensely interested in the relation I had with my mother when I was an adolescent. I told her that my mother and father had divorced when I was 12 and that he had moved out of our house leaving it to my mother, her sick mother, a live-in nurse, and me.

"Let me guess," purred Mme Whitney, "your mother was young and beautiful."

"Yes, I replied, "and neurotic, and flirtatious, and very sexy."

"And what was you reaction when your mother flirted or brought strange men home with her?"

"Well, frankly, I was jealous."

"And where was your bedroom?"

"Right next to hers."

"A perfect hothouse for your incestuous longings to flourish. Don't try to hide your fantasies from me, James. I know young men too well."

Mme's insights were literally breathtaking and it must have showed in my face and posture. Moreover, all throughout our little dialogue Mme Whitney continued to seduce me with her smoking. When I was in high school, a friend who played the baritone horn told me that his music teacher had said that he had the perfect lips for that instrument. Mme Whitney had the perfect lips and mouth to exploit the full eroticism of a cigarette holder. She would run the tip of her holder over her pearl like teeth pointing the end of her cigarette directly at me as she did so and now and then she would clench her holder between her teeth to free her hands to make some gesture. With each deep inhale her cheeks would hollow slightly so that her cheekbones stood out, and before she exhaled she would part her lips to reveal a mouthful of dense white smoke. I was transfixed and she knew it.

At the dress shop later that morning Mme Whitney was careful to solicit my opinion on each evening gown she was shown, testing me, no doubt, to see if my tastes matched hers. As I suspected, her judgment was flawless. 

Lunch was a light affair at a teashop, finished off with me lighting a cigarette in her hypnotic holder.

The boot store she directed me to after lunch was actually a saddlery where the staff seems to know her well. With each pair of boots she tried on she would ask me to smell and feel the leather.

"You must tell me which ones appeal to you James because I intend for you to get to know them well," she announced. It wasn't hard for me to guess what she meant.

I thought we were ready to leave when she strolled over to a display of riding crops, fingering and flexing various ones on display.

"I'll take these three," she finally announced. "I've had several break on me before."

When we reached the door of the mansion, Mme. Whitney announced that she wanted me to join her in the outdoor pool. When I arrived, she was already swimming laps, but stopped long enough to eye me.

"You do have a nice body. Now lets see if you can keep up with me for 20 laps."

I'm a good swimmer but I'll admit that madam surprised me with her stamina. As she climbed out of the pool I had a good glance at her figure, nicely set off by a one-piece bathing suit.

"Not quite what you expected," she laughed. "Swimming and horse back riding does wonders. Keeps my arms strong and everything else tight. Be ready to leave for the dinner at 6:30 in the Ferrari and dress casually—business casual as they say."

The dinner party for 10 was elegantly served. We started off with what the French call an amuse-bouche and a delicious California white wine. The main course was roast duck served with—I could hardly believe my eyes—several bottles of Cheval Blanc 1990. Dessert was fresh fruit served in a delicate pastry shell. Throughout dinner the conversation was witty, naughty, and far ranging. Not unlike dinners I had attended with my boss at NATO headquarters except at these, the wives tacitly assumed the rank of their husbands, which inhibited conversation somewhat. However, here the other guests seemed to ignore the fact that I worked for Madame Whitney who, throughout the evening, was clearly in her element.

It was a beautiful clear, balmy night so everyone adjourned to the terrace once we were through with dessert. Mme. Whitney drew up a chair next to the hostess, Tina Courtney and motioned for me to sit on her other side. After several men lit up my mistress turned to me and said, "I want a cigarette." As I had been instructed, I took her cigarette case and holder from my pocket, carefully inserted a cigarette in the holder, passed the holder to madam, and offered her a light.

Although I was sitting a few feet away from madam and Tina, I had no trouble hearing their stage whispers.

"My, but you have him well trained," marveled Tina.

"My dear, I have just begun to train him."

"But," protested Tina, "he seems so attentive and, I must say, so polished and self assured.

"That's part of the problem, he's too cocksure. I'm going to teach him humility and total devotion. Believe me, Tina, by the time I finish with him he will be responsive to my every whim. I want him to think of nothing from the moment he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep except how to please and protect me. Even when he's asleep I want him to dream about me. I want him to kiss the ground I walk on."

"But Vickie, he seems so strong, so unbending"

"Sweetie, this is precisely what makes his training so appealing and challenging. You know how I love to break high-spirited stallions. Well, believe me, it's a hundred times more fun bending a high-spirited man to my will.

"It sounds to me, Vickie, as if you want to create the perfect lover."

"Oh, you're so naïve, Tina! Lovers are equals. That's not what I want. I want a man like James who on the outside seems like a straight arrow but who has secret weaknesses that I can exploit. And James has two: an obvious smoking fetish—I've noticed that he can't take his eyes off me when I smoke—and a latent Oedipus complex. With me, James can have his cake and eat it too. He can lust after me as a surrogate mother, but be punished for his forbidden desires at the same time. When I'm through conditioning him, he will be begging for me to torture him not only for his sinful thoughts about his mother, but because in his mind he has displeased me in some way. Besides he will find out that the only time he will have my full attention is when I'm disciplining him."

"Disciplining him?" How Vickie?"

"I'll use my riding crop and a lit cigarette. They were very, very effective with my dear, departed Jay."

"Vickie, you are so wicked! God, how I'd love to watch you work!"

"So you may, my sweet. I'll invite you over for a graduation ceremony, so to speak, and you can assist. But I warn you, what I do will probably turn you on in a way you never imagined in your wildest dreams. I've talked to you before about how I love the world of kink and fetish. It's totally addictive. Once you've tasted it you never want to go back to vanilla sex. It's like one of my old lovers so aptly put it. 'Kink and fetish are to sex as the spires and stain glass of a cathedral are to its foundations. It can't stand up without a foundation but who really looks at a foundation when there's so much beauty above'"

"Oh, Vickie, my sweet, I would love to be turned on by you. I could use a little extra-curricular spice in my sex life."

At that point one of the other dinner guests came up to talk to madame and Tina got up to attend to her other guests.

We got back to the mansion close to midnight. I was ready for bed but Vickie—as I now think of her—was obviously quite keyed-up. I had no sooner gotten undressed in my quarters than over the intercom from her bedroom came the command, "I need a massage."

"But Madame, I've just gotten ready for bed."

Big mistake!

"You slip into a pair of shorts and get your ass in here immediately or I'll come in there and give you a taste of my crop that you won't forget!"

"Yes, Madame, I'll be there in a flash."

When I entered her room, Vickie was lying face down, naked, on her very ample bed with her head in her crossed arms that were propped on a pillow.

"I want one of those deep massages that you bragged about in our interview. The oil I like is right there on the bed stand"

Standing on the side of the bed in my shorts I began to massage her shoulders.

"My god, James, how can you ever give me a proper massage like that! I want you to climb on the bed and straddle me so I can feel your full weight when you massage my shoulders." I did as I was ordered.

I began with her neck—that irresistible three inches of soft white flesh—and, slowly gaining confidence, began to move my hands onto her shoulders, first gently squeezing the deltoids and then gradually moved to her trapezium. She let out a long sigh.

"I do love a strong man's hands on my body."

The idea of a deep back massage is to slowly move down the back, kneading each muscle group almost to the point of pain. Judging by her sighs and groans Vickie loved my technique.

"Tell me James, do you know how I became a widow?"

"Well, Madame, one of the staff told me that your husband died of a heart attack in the stables."

"And do you know what caused that heart attack, James?"

"I assume the usual causes—too much good living."

"That's the official story. But let me tell you what really happened. It wasn't long after we were married—both of us for the second time--that I stumbled on Jay's little cache of pornographic literature and DVDs. Not your standard stuff with over-sized tits and pussies anatomically displayed. No, Jay, was into feminine domination, especially whipping and humiliation. Actually, I was more intrigued than shocked by what I found. When I teased him at dinner that night about my little discovery, he got very flustered and tried to convince me that it belonged to his son by his first marriage. Imagine his astonishment when I said that I'd be more than happy to turn his fantasies into reality. I told him to be waiting for me the next day in the stable when I finished my ride. 'And Jay, darling. please bring a set of handcuffs,' I ordered. Riding a horse has always turned me on—you know, James, being able to control a big, strong, virile animal—so when I finish a ride my juices are usually flowing. That first day of our little experiment I made Jay strip and handcuffed him to a post by a stall. I started with my crop on his upper back and then slowly worked my way down to his soft ass. I whipped him until my arm gave out. When I released him he fell to his knees and began to passionately kiss my boots. It was a thrilling, electrifying experience like I had never had before. Flogging Jay every day after my ride became the highlight of my day. We both were insatiable."




The Personal Assistant



Madam sensed a slight movement on my part.

"You're not getting hard on me, are you James?" she teased. "Is it the flogging that turns you on or the licking of my boots or is it both?"

"Oh god," was all I could murmur.

"Well, to continue my little story, one day after my usual ride when I was flogging Jay with particular gusto, he had a fatal heart attack. "Be assured James, he died in ecstasy," she laughed. Naturally, the circumstances of his death could have been a bit of a scandal, especially considering how rich he was. But the coroner had a son who needed a little help to get into Swarthmore and the undertaker gladly accepted a handsome bonus from an aggrieved widow. I do love to have things go my way, always."

I said nothing, stunned by her confession. 

"Why so silent, James? "You were so articulate at dinner tonight James. Now let me turn over and show me if your tongue is good for anything else.

I was delirious with joy and lust. From the first day that Vickie had interviewed me I had fantasized about burying my head between those lush thighs and penetrating that heart of her femininity with my tongue. I was drunk with desire."

"You are a goddess, madam," I moaned. "I worship you completely. I can't get enough of you. This is heaven."

Vickie only wrapped her legs around my head in response, squeezing hard every time she had an organism. 

At last she released her hold on me and I took this as a sign she wanted me to move up and penetrate her.

Big mistake!

"What are you doing? If you ever dare to interrupt my pleasure again I will punish you severely. I was just trying to reach my cell phone."

And with that she pushed my head back down between her legs and punched in a number.

"Hi Tina my sweet. I know it's late but I just couldn't sleep. I wanted to tell you what a perfectly marvelous dinner party you threw tonight and how stimulating it was talking with you on the terrace. What am I doing right now? Would you believe I've just started a conditioning session with James? Oh yes, it's going quite well but I can tell that I have my work cut out."

"I must teach him humility, obedience, and self-control. How will I do that? Oh I have my methods. I won't keep you darling. Thank you, again, for such a stimulating evening and here's hoping I can have you over soon to participate in a little threesome. Ta,ta."

Putting the phone down, Vickie at last looked down at me, "Take down your shorts, James and roll over. I'm going to have a little fun with you."

Once on my back Vickie glanced at my enormous erection. "My, my, what do we have here?"

Reaching for her holder she provocatively inserted a cigarette just as she had in my interview, except this time she bent forward to get a light from the candle on the bedside table. She inhaled deeply, moved her lips to within inches of mine and blew a strong, heavy jet of white smoke directly into my mouth.

"You are fascinated by my smoking, aren't you James?" she teased.

"Yes Madame, I am," I murmured. She inhaled deeply again and, turning to my rigid cock, covered it with a stream of smoke and began to gently stroke it with her holder. I was going out of my mind.

"You do like it when I blow smoke into your mouth, don't you James?"

"God, I love it!"

"Then I'm sure you'll like this even more. Open your mouth." 

And as I did, she flicked the ash from her cigarette onto my tongue.

"This is another little service I expect you to perform for me whenever I demand it. I love to use a man's mouth as my ashtray. It's so over the top, so kinky, and it's a wonderful way to teach you humility."

She turned her attention back to my upright, aching member, again stroking the shaft and the head with her holder.

"Tell me James, did your mother ever do this?"

"I think she did once, I mumbled."

"You are a terrible liar, James. If she teased you once this way she teased you a hundred times. Some mothers love to bring their son's little soldiers to attention and then torment them just like the tourists like to torment those royal guards with the busbies at Buckingham Palace. And would she bring you to climax, James? Obviously yes, because you're speechless and blushing. But I must warn you James, you must never—I mean never—climax without my permission. Because if you do I will punish you severely. We will practice and practice until you have learned total self-control. Is that clear?"

As she talked she continued to stroke me with her holder, pausing now and then to inhale and blow the smoke into my mouth, always moving her lips so that they almost touched mine.

"Now let's talked about your incestuous fantasies. You know such thoughts are very, very wicked James and if you shoot off while I'm stroking you I'll assume it's because you're thinking of your mother and not me, and you'll be punished. You must understand James that I torment you for my pleasure, not yours."

Vickie continued to minister to me, now and then flicking ashes and blowing smoke into my mouth.

"You're not about to come, are you James?" she finally declared in mock surprise. "Could that be a little stream of semen I see oozing from your cock?"

A stream of white smoke from her pursed lips engulfed my cock and I went off with a scream like a Roman candle.

"Oh James, you are such a bad boy. Hold out your hand."

And with that she removed her cigarette from her holder and ground it into my palm.

"I warned you James, I always punish bad behavior. Really we must really work on your self-control. Now get out of my sight and clean yourself up."

After that session I could not sleep, not so much because of the burn on my palm—it really wasn't that bad—but because I could not stop obsessing about Vickie. I was totally in her thrall. What a subtle, sophisticated, and irresistible sadist she was! In just one unbelievable session she had begun to condition me to associate my subservience and torment with her pleasure. I was ready to endure anything if only it delighted this goddess. "Oh Vickie, torture me to your heart's content; I will worship you for it!"

Over the next few weeks Vickie's moods ranged from mellow, to provocative, to downright horny. Some evenings she would call me into her bedroom to lie beside her on her bed while she watched a movie. She would prop herself up with pillows and have me lay on my back while she smoked languorously with her beautiful holder, totally absorbed in what she was watching and seemly totally indifferent to my presence. Now and then, however, she would lean over, blow a stream of smoke into my mouth, flick an ash into my tongue, and tease me saying, "You have such a perfect mouth for an ashtray" or "I hope this isn't turning you on because all I have in mind tonight is enjoying this movie."

Her sadism wasn't just physical. One morning at breakfast shortly thereafter she told me that I was to escort her to a dinner dance that night and two wear my tux. However, instead of being seated together at dinner, the hostess put Vickie next to some young Italian playboy who Vickie began to assiduously seduce. I was banished to a corner table and was forced to watch as Vickie put on a full court press. Returning to the table after several close and sensuous dances with the bewitched Roberto, she motioned to me that she wanted a cigarette, which I dutifully inserted, into her holder. But Roberto was quicker than I with his lighter—Damn him! I tried to appear as the perfect personal assistant, asking her if there was anything else I could get her, but she waved me away without a word. I could see her now and then steal an amusing glance at me sulking at my table. And I could see her—the seductive bitch! —blowing smoke and whispering into Roberto's ear.

Near midnight she summoned me over again and said that Roberto was going to take her home and that I was free to leave. I drove to the mansion in a fury. "What a bitch, what a bitch, what a cruel bitch" kept running obsessively through my head as I lay sweating, wide-awake in my bed.

I had probably been in this state for half an hour when I heard the excited voices of Vickie and Roberto over the intercom. I wanted to rip the damn thing out of the wall but found myself transfixed by what I heard.

After what were obvious sounds of mutual undressing, Vickie cried out,

"Do you want me, Roberto?"

"Oh god how I want you Vickie" came back that damn accented voice.

"Then come inside me, my Italian stallion, and fuck my brains out!"

Wild animal noises until Roberto at last cried,

"I'm coming, I'm coming to you Vickie."

Shrieks of delight and then after a pause Vickie's commanding voice:

"While you're recharging your batteries Roberto you can pleasure me while I have a cigarette."

At that request I died a thousand deaths. Foolish me thinking that that sacred pussy was mine alone to savor. Bitch, bitch, bitch!

After about five minutes I hear Vickie saying,

"I can see that your canon is still not loaded. Let me see what I can do."

Roberto's response was a cry of delight and surprise: "My god, what are you doing Vickie?"

"Darling, anyone woman can suck a cock, but how many know how to massage your prostate at the same time. I guarantee that when I'm finished you'll hardly be able to keep from shooting off."

Indeed, Vickie's skillful lips and finger apparently worked their magic because I soon heard Vickie exclaim,

"Now that's more like it. Let's see if you can't run a marathon with that baton."

Poor Roberto tried his best, but Vickie's and sensuality soon overwhelmed him.

"I can't go on, Vickie," and then he muttered something in Italian.

"So much promise," laughed Vickie, "so little performance. If a man can't keep hard all night I'm not really interested in him. Now get dressed and leave. I want to sleep."

Next morning, as I arrived at what had become our customary breakfast on the terrace, Vickie teased me,

"Do I detect you having trouble bending your right arm? Could it be a case of tennis elbow by any chance?"

"What do you think," I answered in a surly tone. Her anger was instantaneous.

"Never, never, speak to me in a tone like that again. I know exactly what you did in your room last. You spanked the monkey good. Well, I once told you that you must never come without my explicit permission. Now, I'm going to have to spank you, no, thrash you, in a way you'll never forget. Be waiting at the stable when I finish my ride this afternoon."

I was wild with anticipation as the morning and early afternoon hours dragged by. I'm sure that Vickie came back to the stable later than usual just to torment me. 

Finally she arrived, dismounted, gave the reins of her mount to the stable boy and told him to take her horse for a long cool-down walk. Vickie looked magnificent: small beads of sweat on her forehead and upper lip, a white silk blouse that nicely revealed her sweating breasts, classic jodhpurs and black riding boots and, most alluring of all, a crop in her gloved right hand that she kept impatiently slapping into her other hand.

"Follow me," she ordered as she marched toward the tack room. She locked the door behind us and pointed with her crop to a sawhorse which held a saddle.

"Take that off and bend over the sawhorse, and don't you dare let go of that bar between the legs."

With that she reached around, loosened the belt on my pants, pulled them down, and went to work with her crop.

" You're not moaning, James, I like that. It inspires me to flog you even harder. There's nothing I like better than a well tenderized ass."

And well tenderize my ass she did, with great relish and untiring strokes. At last, satisfied with the bloody blisters she had raised, she stopped and I heard her open a box, take out something, and then apparently strap it around her waist and legs. My next sensation was of a large, greasy, flesh-like object penetrating my rectum.

"Now you're going to see what it feels like to be fucked over—fucked over and stroked at the same time."

And as she moved her dildo vigorously back and forth in my rectum she began to stroke cock, gently at first, but then with increasing intensity.

"I thought it would be fun to condition you differently for once. And if you dare shoot off, I will punish you unmercifully."

I was totally overwhelmed and completely at the mercy of my beloved mistress. I held out for as long as I could, but Vickie's incessant thrusting and simultaneous stroking was ultimately irresistible and my whole body shook with spasms of uncontrollable joy.

Vickie was enraged.

"I warned you what would happen if you shot off without my permission. When I get through with my cat-o-nine tails you'll think that my crop felt like a wet noodle."

But at that moment Vickie's cell phone rang. Perhaps, inadvertently, she had left it on. But she glanced at the screen and immediately answered.

"You are so lucky James. My daughter is in a bit of trouble and I have to leave immediately. I'll take the Mercedes myself and be back when I'm back. And for god's sake get yourself cleaned up. You look a mess."

Although as Vickie's personal assistant I was privy to virtually all her personal papers, I knew nothing about her daughter except that she existed. Her son, of course, had been the subject of Vickie's special attention—the type of seduction I was familiar with but had largely suppressed until I began to confess my dark desires under Vickie's skillful interrogation.

When Vickie returned two days later she said nothing about her daughter but ordered me to prepare for our usual routine. This was Vickie's favorite form of conditioning. After a swim or riding, she would go to her sauna, emerge naked, lay face down on the massage table, and have me give her a deep massage. I was to always to wear boxer shorts so that when I was astride her, I would not, as she once told me, "be tempted to ram by cock between her luscious buttocks." Suitably aroused, Vickie would rise, order me to light her holdered cigarette, take my shorts off, and lie on my back. She'd then begin her mesmerizing ritual: with her lips nearly touching mine she would blow a heavy stream of delicious white smoke into my mouth. Then turning to my my-now rigid penis, she would tease it unmercifully, lightly caressing it with her holder and wreathing it in smoke. When the ash on her cigarette was sufficiently long, she would flick it in my mouth. These three erotic gestures—the smoke and ashes in my mouth and the stroking of my cock—would drive me insane. But, slowly, I learned to control my ejaculation. Of course, my growing self-control only intensified Vickie's efforts to bring me to climax.

One session, when I had managed to stay erect after she had finished one cigarette, she lit another and taunted,

" Are you really totally devoted to me, James?"

"Oh, Madame, I am. I am your slave."

"I not sure that I believe you, James. If you were really my slave I would brand you. Would you like that James? Would you like me to slowly brand you with my cigarette? That would be such a turn on for me."

"I live for your pleasure, Madame. You must believe me."

"We'll see, we'll see. Tomorrow evening, we'll have a cozy dinner somewhere where we can dance and then we'll go to my little gymnasium. You may have noticed the table with the tie-down straps. Of course, if you really wanted to be my slave you wouldn't need them, but then you might not be able to stand it if I got really inventive."

Dinner was on the large patio of a swanky club by a private lake. Vickie was dressed in a beautifully tailored white pants suits with a matching turban—a touch that I had never seen before but which only enhanced her elegance. She was the most stunning 60-year old woman I had ever seen. No, that's not right, she was the most stunning woman of any age I had ever seen. Thank god, Vickie was not into botox. I loved the crow's feet that framed her blue eyes and the tiny vertical wrinkles on her upper lip that older women often develop. Her neck, framed by a simple double strand of pearls, was remarkably firm. She radiated sensuality, power, and supreme self-confidence.

As soon as we were seated she asked for a cigarette. White suit, white turban, dainty pearl earrings, and a long white cigarette in a gold and ivory Denicotea holder—she was breathtaking and her smoke mingled with her perfume was intoxicating.

"I love your turban," I offered.

"It gives me an air of authority, don't you think, James?"

"I agree completely, Madame."

Vickie quickly sensed that I wanted to say something else.

"Out with it, James!"

"When you smoke with your holder, Madame, I have an irresistible urge to have you use my mouth as your ashtray."

"Well, I'd be disappointed if you didn't after all the conditioning sessions we've had."

We ordered—or I should say, Vickie ordered for both of us and picked out an excellent wine to go with the duck.

"As you must know James, duck is the test of a good chef, and the chef here is very, very good. Now let's dance."

Vickie let me lead but had a provocative way of pressing a leg into my crotch as we turned to the music.

"Umm, I like what I feel," she whispered. "Tell me, James, is it my outfit, my smoking, or the little activity I have planned at home after dinner?"

"It's all three Madame, I'm absolutely overwhelmed by you."

"Would you like to fuck me, James?"

"Oh god, Madame, that would be heaven!"

"I'm not surprised. Men think that nothing pleases a woman more than to be fucked. But I'm different, as I'm sure you know by now, James. The greatest pleasure for me is to keep a man in an extended and exquisite state of sexual tension while I tease, torment, and torture him—my magical three Ts. I never knew how thrilling and how totally over the top sadism could be until my dear departed Jay first asked me to whip him with my crop. That was an epiphany for me and after that I found that ordinary sex was like drinking coca-cola when a rare vintage was available or having jello for dessert instead of cherries jubilee."

She continued,

"I could tell almost immediately, James, that you were the kind of man who considers himself strong, stoic, and worldly, but who had a suppressed desire to be under the control of a strong woman. I want nothing more, James, than to condition you not only welcome the pain and humiliation I inflict on you but to make you realize that total obedience to my whims is also your greatest pleasure, far beyond any pleasure that mere screwing could have. N'est pas?"

Vickie was right. She had opened the safe where my darkest desires lay. She taught (and would teach) me that denied sexual desire when prolonged and skillfully mixed with intense pain and humiliation led to an indescribable pleasure that transcended all previous notions I had about a relationship with a woman. She teased out my incest fantasies, fanned those latent flames, and then joyfully punished me for them. Vickie was simply unworldly, a bewitching, enthralling goddess to whom I gave myself completely

On the way home in the car Vickie tormented me unmercifully, stroking my cock and blowing smoke in my ear.

"I can hardly wait to slowly run a burning cigarette over your chest," Vickie cooed. "I'm going to adore you with a lovely script "V" above your right nipple and a script "W" above the other. I can tell that appeals to you, James, because you're getting so hard. I'm going to keep it that way all night."

Vickie was true to her word except that her branding took several sessions—sessions in which in which the mingling of her smoke and perfume and the sound of her sensuous voice served to partially anesthetize the delicious pain of her cigarette against my flesh. She was in total control of my mind and my body and my ecstasy was total.

About a week after Vickie had finished her calligraphy on my chest, she announced, "I've invited Tina over this evening for a little fun and games. You're going to love what we're going to do to you, James."




The Personal Assistant



For Vickie the setting of a session was almost as important as the action. I was ordered to scour antique shops for a single brass bed. The headboard was to be removed but the footboard was to be high enough and the vertical rails close enough that my feet would fit through and could be firmly tied down with leather straps. Vickie then had me place the bed in her ample bedroom with the bottom of the bed elevated about a foot above the end with the missing headboard. Further I was to put fresh flowers everywhere and to intersperse them with candles, with an additional candle on a small stand at the head of what Vickie laughingly called my bed of painful pleasure. Perversely, Vickie chose as background music the score from the file "Love is a Many-Splendored Thing." The scene was completed by a thick leather whip that Vickie produced from the bottom of a huge armoire and laid at the foot of the brass bed.

When Tina arrived that evening Vickie had me serve Champaign. After I poured a second glass for both women, Vickie began to hint rather provocatively of how well she had conditioned me and what a special treat was in store for all of us.

"And, Tina, you must promise that you'll do everything that I ask otherwise the evening will be no fun for me or James, isn't that right James."

"Yes, Madame, you are absolutely right," I replied, trying to remain impassive but quivering inside.

Then taking me by one hand and Tina by the other, Vickie led us to her bedroom and locked the door.

Vickie said nothing for a few seconds, letting Vickie take in the scene. Turning to me, Vickie began to remove my clothes.

"See Tina, darling, James is already excited. And I've conditioned him to stay this way no matter what you and I do to him.

With my chest bare and my pants and underpants around my ankles, Vickie ordered me to take off my shoes and to lay on my back on the brass bed with my feet sticking through the footboard. Using my belt and another that I had given Vickie earlier, she bound my ankles to the rails.

Tina could not help but noticing the "V" and "W" that adorned my chest.

"Vickie," exclaimed Tina, "what ever have you done to James?"

"Branded him, of course, my pet. Don't you love my calligraphy? James wears it like a badge of honor, don't you James?"

As Tina stood transfixed, Vickie inserted a long cigarette into her holder and touched the tip to the flame of the candle by the head of the bed, took a deep drag, and blew an overpowering stream of white smoke into my mouth.

"I have so much fun with James, he lets me do anything I please to him. And he makes such a wonderful ashtray."

"Oh Vickie," Tina gushes, "you are so incredible, so over the top!"

"Now Tina, sweetie, I want you to pick up that whip at the end of the bed and thrash his feet as hard as you can while I enjoy my cigarette. This is a wonderful torture that the Turks and Japanese favor. This will be a new thrill for all of us."

The excitement and sexual tension in the room was palatable and I was in heaven: the woman I worshipped at one end filling my eager mouth with smoke and ashes and at the other end Vickie's best friend entering into the spirit of the evening with a passion she had never experienced before.

"He loves your lashes, Vickie. Just stop a second and come feel hard he is."

Vickie guided Tina's hand to the base of my shaft while she teased the head of my cock with her holder.

"Oh, Vickie, I am so wet. You have turned me on completely. Oh please, my darling, please, let me pleasure you."

"Of course you may, my princess. I would love to feel your warm tongue inside me.

"God," I moaned, "I want to service you too."

"But James," teased Vickie, "you are servicing me by being my ashtray."
For the rest of the evening I was in a trance as endormorphins, testosterone, and god knows what else coursed through my brain and body. I was transported, ecstatic. Vickie with the aid of Tina brought me to a state that no drug high could touch. I swooned and recovered consciousness again and again as these two angles ministered to me....

"It's just not the same, is it James?"

"What can I say Tina? You've been wonderful to me since Vickie left us. I love your enthusiasm and willingness to try anything. But Vickie was otherworldly, a goddess who decided to live in the 21-st century. You know the spell she cast over you."

Tina untied me and leaned back on the bed for a cigarette.

"Vickie showed me a world, James, that I hardly knew existed, a world of untrammeled freedom and unlimited possibilities. That night when I first whipped you and made love to her was like what? Like suddenly all my senses had been electrified and I finally understood what real passion was."

" For me, Tina, Vickie open up my inner world which I had suppressed far too long. Vickie was not only an acute psychologist she was a real student of S&M. She knew the joys that a skillful mixture of pain and pleasure can bring to both partners and she taught me that total submission to her will and whims was liberating. How I miss her!"

The End




{More to come if you enjoyed this. And please, Elizabeth if you ever hear of a woman like this—no need for her to be rich—do think of me!}



The Personal Assistant



Chapter 1 - Sam

I first noticed her when I was walking through the reception area. Maybe it was the fact that she was very attractive, and the way she glanced up from the magazine she was pretending to read. She looked at me, then dropped her eyes, then looked again. The second look was quick, a glance like a dog might give you when it is slinking away.

Now most women will look away when they feel a man's eyes on them. They know that to look back for more than a moment is an invitation to be approached. Her second, furtive look indicated an interest, and nervousness. It intrigued me, grabbing my attention and making me look at her more carefully.

She was a well preserved, middle-aged women, probably around 45 or 50. Her expensive-looking business suit and her general bearing signaled an upper middle class background. The open jacket to her suit revealed a pair of substantial breasts, which set high on her chest and greatly enhanced her femininity. It seemed to me that her blouse was a little tighter than it needed to be.

When I give a woman a second look I always check her legs and ankles. Slender calves and ankles whet my appetite for further exploration. This woman in her sheer stockings and four inch heels passed my inspection. I wondered what she was doing there.

My name is Sam, and I am the CEO and owner of my own advertising agency. I employee some twenty people—account executives, writers, artists, web site designers, and others—and we occupy two floors in a high rise office building in a large city. On this morning I had arrived as usual at about ten o'clock and was looking forward to interviewing a number of young ladies for the job as my personal assistant.

I had given specific instructions to Karen, my human resources manager, about the kind of person I wanted. My personal assistant had to be female, young, pretty, and above all accommodating to my every wish. Being rich and powerful meant little if you could not take advantage of the situation to indulge your passions. Karen was well aware of my sexual tastes, as she shared many of them. Her management position in my company was due in part to her willingness to play all sorts of sexual games with me.

The first thing I did on entering my corner office was to pick up the phone and call Karen. "Well, have you lined up some suitable applicants for me to interview today?" 

"Well sir, I do have one that I think you will find interesting. In fact she is waiting in the lobby right now."

So the woman I had noticed was here to apply for my job. That was interesting, but somewhat surprising.

"Karen, I told you I wanted a young, exceptionally pretty assistant. I need an attraction like that to help me sign up new accounts."

"Trust me," said Karen in a conspiratorial tone. "This woman is pretty enough, and I talked with her a long time. Under your guidance I think she will please both you and your prospective clients, and maybe me as well."

Karen's implications were clear. "Umm.. tell me more," I said.

"Her name is Vicky. She was married to a successful businessman for twenty years and has never had to work. A month ago the guy ran off with his secretary. Vicky loves her large house and agreed to take the house in exchange for minimal alimony. Now she barely has enough money to buy food, let alone keep up the house."

"So, another bad luck story. What makes her so suitable as my personal assistant?

Karen laughed. "You know me. I got her to talk about her sex life, or lack thereof. Her husband never cared about her fantasies or her pleasure. She is highly sexed and frustrated, but thinks of herself as a good girl who should not need sex. I picked up on the signs; she is a latent submissive who is ripe for a strong man. You could be the one to break her in."

That thought brought me to instant hardness. Karen knew me so well.

"Ah, you little vixen," I said. "What makes you think she will submit to my outlandish tastes and behavior?"

"She is vulnerable—almost desperate. And I have laid the groundwork for you. I told her you would be a demanding, but fair boss, and if she were willing to obey you without question in all things you would take care of her and pay her well. When I said those things I could see her nipples get hard under her blouse."

Now Karen really had my attention. "I saw her in the lobby," I mused. "She does appear to have a good body."

"You bet she does. I could find you a sweet young thing who might look and feel better, but she would probably be hung up on her own attractiveness and not ready to let herself go the way you want."

"Why not?" I asked innocently. "You are a sexy, sweet young thing with a tight body and I can turn you into hot custard."

"I'm not all that young anymore," she laughed. "Remember my twenty-ninth birthday was last month. Besides I am an exception, and you got my number early on."

"Yea, but you have a killer body. I'm getting hard just thinking about you."

"Cool it big man. Go get Vicky and interview her. You can enjoy dominating her and still have me whenever you want."

"Okay. You convinced me. But I may want you to talk to her after my interview."

"No problem. I would enjoy that. Maybe I should stay late tonight so we can compare notes."

"It's a date," I said and hung up. My heart was thumping in my chest as I straightened my pants and left my office to go get Vicky.



Chapter 2 – Vickie

I can't believe I opened up so much during that interview with Karen. She had such a non threatening way of asking direct questions, and I guess I just need to talk to someone. In the past few months I have been so frustrated, sexually and every other way. I'll bet Karen has plenty of sex in her life, given that body of hers.

It was really interesting the way she seemed to empathize with my need to be in relationship with a strong man. That bastard I was married to for so long never treated me the way I craved. Mostly he did his own thing and let me do mine. I thought he had lost interest in sex completely, but then he ran off what that tart of a secretary. She's probably all looks and no passion. To hell with them both.

After my interview with Karen I had this strange feeling of excitement in my stomach. When that good looking man gave me such a frank appraisal in the lobby I wanted him to seize me by the hair and take me to his cave. It was embarrassing; I had to look away.

What's the matter with me? I am here for an interview, not a BDSM session. These old fantasies of mine don't have a place in this business environment. Besides I could never act on them anyway. I am an educated, sophisticated woman, not some man's toy. It would be so humiliating to be bossed around and made to do unspeakable things. Still...

I have to stop thinking about these things and get my mind back on preparing for the interview. My work experience is so thin, and I need this job so badly. How am I going to convince this man that I would be a good personal assistant?





Chapter 3 – Sam

I returned to the lobby and walked right up to her. "Hello Vickie. My name is Sam and I understand you are applying for the position of my personal assistant. Please follow me to my office so we can get acquainted."

Vickie seemed surprised when I introduced myself as the one looking for a personal assistant. She obviously remembered me as the guy who had given her the once over earlier.

"Oh, yes sir. I am pleased to meet you," she said as she rose and hurried after me. I walked rapidly down the hall to make her struggle to keep up. It was part of my plan to put her off balance and break through her prime and proper façade.

"Here we are," I said, moving behind my desk. My office was huge and included a large, high table that I used to spread out brochures and ads we were working on. It had sturdy, chrome legs and a top of thick black glass. Several padded, adjustable height stools were pushed up against the table.

I spoke to Vickie. "Bring one of those stools over in front of my desk and take a seat. I like to see all of a person when I interview them, and my desk gets in the way when they sit in regular chairs."

The use of the stool was one of Karen's inspirations for conducting interviews of females. Climbing onto the stool invariably caused their hemlines to rise, usually well over their knees. The way a woman handled the situation said a lot. Some of them took advantage of the seemingly innocent opportunity to show off their legs; others were very uncomfortable and constantly squirming to pull their dress down. Vickie was in this latter category, but the way she did it ratcheted up the sexual tension in the room.

I began to question her. "Have you ever served as someone's personal assistant before?"

"No sir, but I am willing to learn."

"What type of office experience have you had?"

"Well sir, the truth is that I have just entered the job market. Up to this point I have been an old fashioned housewife." She smiled as she tried to make light of her lack of qualifications. I liked the way she kept calling me "sir".

"What do you think the duties of a personal assistant might be?" I asked.

Vickie squirmed again on the stool and pulled on her skirt. "I suppose it would be like a secretary, scheduling meetings, making travel arrangements, things like that."

"Are you uncomfortable on that stool?"

"Oh no sir. It's okay."

"Then stop squirming and let your skirt settle where it will. You have quite nice legs you know."

Her face reddened like a tomato in the summer sun, but she stopped moving. I could see her chest heave as she took a deep breath. 

"As my personal assistant you would be doing the kinds of things you mentioned, but also quite a bit more. I want someone to help me entertain my good clients and close deals with new ones. Also, I have some personal needs that my assistant must attend to."

"Oh?"

"Yes, you would have to be available to work late and travel with me when necessary. Would that be a problem?"

"No, not a problem. As Karen probably told you, I am alone right now."

"Did Karen also tell you that I require absolute obedience?"

Vickie's eyes got wide and she shifted around again on the stool. "Yes, she did mention something about that. I wasn't quite sure what she meant."

"She meant that you must do anything I tell you – anything. Of course you could always quit whenever you wanted, but you would get no severance pay and a bad reference."

"I see..." She was flustered and did not seem to know how to respond to the implications of what I was saying.

"Do you? I told you to stop squirming in your seat, and yet you did it again."

"I didn't realize....."

"It's really very simple. You listen and respond. I wanted to look at your legs and told you to hold still. Instead you tried again to pull your skirt down."

She looked flustered and uncertain about what to do. "I don't know if I'm ready for a job like this. This is a new situation for me."

It was time to take the interview to the next level and see how far this woman was willing to go. If Karen had judged her correctly I would soon see some signs that she was sexually excited by the situation. I stood and walked over to a credenza that was against one wall. Leaning down I opened the sliding door and removed a black leather riding crop. 

"This job as my personal assistant would pay you five times what you could get at any other job. But you would have to accept that even the slightest disobedience has its consequences."

Vickie's eyes never left the crop as I moved toward her, tapping the flexible leather against my leg. Slowly I circled her, as if I were trying to decide which part of her body should feel the sting. Finally I lifted the end and used it to trace a line down her spine to the top of her ass.

"Do you understand, Vickie?" I whispered in her ear.

She licked her lips. From the way she was breathing I knew she was turned on. "Yes sir, I understand."

"Do you want the job?"

There was a long moment of hesitation. "Yes sir. I think I can handle it."

"We shall see. There will be a thirty day trial period." I rested the crop on her shoulder. "Open the jacket on your suit and stick out your breasts."

That was the moment of truth. There was no longer any doubt about what she would have to endure if she took the job. After taking another deep breath she shucked off the suit coat and arched her back. The jacket dropped to the floor. Her tits strained against the thin fabric of her blouse, protruding like an offering to appease an angry god.

I slid the crop under her chin and used it to lift her head so that she was forced to look at my eyes. "Are your breasts sensitive, Vickie?" I asked

"Ohhh.... yes... very.... please don't hurt them..." Her words came out in little bursts.

The crop slowly descended from her neck, and then rose again as I let the leather flap on the end climb over one of her firm mounds. When it reached the peak I could feel the edge of the flap catch against a stiff nipple. Gently I sawed the leather back and forth, like a violinist playing a long note to tune the orchestra.

"OH MY...."

"Shoulders back and hold still!"

When I thought her nipple had grown and hardened as much as it was going to, I lowered the crop to rest on her knee, just below where her tight skirt was gripping her thighs. Then I inserted the little flap under the edge of her skirt and lifted.

"Are you wearing panties, Vickie?"

"Of course," she said in a small voice.

"I hope you are not wearing panty hose. I dislike panty hose."

Her face colored again. Having a man ask her about her underwear was not something she was used to. "Yes sir, I'm afraid I am. I always wear panty hose when I need stockings."

"As long as you are working for me you will never wear them again. You either get stockings that stay up by themselves, or you wear a garter belt. Is that clear?"

For a moment her eyes flared with indignation. "I never..."

"Now take them off!"

"I beg your pardon....."

"You heard me. Drop your skirt and take off your panty hose. Then put your high heels back on."

"You're not serious! Someone might come in."

"Yes they might. Once you are my personal assistant that won't matter. But since this is just an interview I will respect your concerns and lock the door."

Her eyes followed me as I went to the door and turned the key. "There," I said, putting the key in my pocket. "Now no one can get in....or out."

I put special emphasis on the "or out" to let her know that she could not leave without my consent. It was important that she feel she had no choice but to submit to my whims. That sense of inevitability would help her let go and give free reign to the lust that I knew was bubbling just below the surface.

Still standing by the door I waited for her to obey my command. She seemed frozen to the stool, not quite ready to cross the line into submission and disrobe in my office. Her eyes dropped and she began to sob.

"I don't know.. I don't know... it's too much......"

Angrily I crossed the room and slapped her across the cheek. "Get up and drop that skirt! I've had enough of your indecision."

When I raised my hand again she quickly slid off of the stool and began working at the clasp at her waist. I pulled the stool back and sat on it myself, watching her face. Tears trickled down the pink skin where I had slapped her.

The skirt came open and rolled over her hips to lie in a pile at her feet. She stepped out of her shoes and shimmied the panty hose down her legs. Then, balancing on one foot at a time, she pulled off the stockings. Finally she slipped back into her high heels and stood facing me, a resigned look on her face.

It was as erotic a picture as I had ever seen. Her long bare legs disappeared up under her hanging blouse, which almost but not quite hid her bikini panties. My already stiff cock hardened until it was almost painful.

"Step away from the skirt and walk around the room," I ordered, tapping the back leg of the stool with my crop.

This time she did not hesitate. "In for a penny, in for a pound," she muttered under her breath as she paraded herself in front of me. She seemed proud of her body and its obvious effect on the hump in my pants. In her high heels she swayed and twisted, turning to give me a view of her from every angle. The eyes were hot and focused on me and my reaction.

"I will be a good personal assistant for you," she purred.

"Come here and stand in front of me," I said. "That's it. Now move your feet apart."

She did as I instructed.

"Good," I said. "Now put your hands behind your head."

It was a position of total vulnerability and submission. Although her tits with their pointy nipples were covered by her blouse, the material was thin and those big melons were inches from my mouth and hands. There would be a time very soon when I was going to give those babies a good going over. For now, however, I wanted to draw out the process of her surrender.

I looked into her eyes. "Hold very still. I need to test your reactions."

Slowly I brought the crop up between her legs, caressing first one thigh and then the other. As it went higher it lifted her blouse and revealed her panty-covered pussy, which seemed to swell in anticipation. A soft moan came from deep in her body.

"Ohhhh...." 

"Vickie, you are a hopeless submissive. You need a man like me to take control of your body and make it sing." The crop touched her pussy and the soft leather pressed into her.

"OHHH GODDDD....."

I wanted to draw her out and make her admit her desires. "Have you ever felt this way before? Has a man ever made you submit to him totally?"

"Noo..... It's not right.... Don't make me do this." She protested weakly, even as her rotating hips betrayed her. I twisted the crop and drew the edge of the flap between the lips of her pussy. Her eyes closed and the muscles in her ass began a rhythmic contraction. It was clear to me that another minute of this would put her over the top.

I withdrew the crop. "I am going to make you do whatever I want. You do understand this don't you Vickie? If you take this job you will be mine to play with as I please. Your body has craved this for a long time. Now maintain that position."

Sliding off the stool I walked behind her and studied the curve of her ass and legs. Her mature body had its soft, fleshy places, but on the whole it was toned and firm. I have always admired women like her with small, rounded buttocks, just big enough for one cheek to fit in a man's hand. Vickie didn't move as I cupped her and squeezed.

"Very nice," I said. "It will be a pleasure to spank you when you are naughty."

"Ahhh....," she whined in a tone that indicated both excitement and acceptance.

"Now miss Vickie, it is time for you to decide. Should I call Karen and have her come sign you up as my personal assistant? You would begin tomorrow at a salary of $75,000 with full benefits. We could make it a 30 day trial. What do you say?"

I was facing her again and lifted her chin with my hand. Her body was shivering, crying for more stimulation from my hands and the crop. In her aroused condition there was no doubt about how she was going to decide.

"Yes," she said in a small voice. "I need the job. I want the job. I will do as you say."

"Good," I said and went to the phone to call Karen.

Chapter 4 – Vickie

My god what was going on? In my wildest dreams I never imagined an interview like this! There I was, standing half naked in a man's office after meeting him only half an hour before. I had fantasized about having an affair with an attractive boss, but this was crazy. He had almost made me cum a few minutes ago, and now he was calmly talking on the phone.

How did he know I would not scream and run out of his office? It must have been that bitch Karen—she had probably told him how desperate I was, and how horny. What was I supposed to do, for god's sake?




The Personal Assistant



Since my husband ran off with his slut secretary and for a long time before that I had been frustrated sexually. He never cared about my needs. For a while he would fuck me about once week, like he was carrying out his marital obligation, and it didn't matter whether I came or not. In the past year we hardly had sex at all.

I had resorted to talking to online Dom's regarding my feelings and urges. They assured me that the feelings I had were the natural desires of a submissive woman. I enjoyed reading stories about what the Dom's did, but I thought that although I wanted to experience those things, I never would act on it. In general I am not a submissive person, but in the sexual arena I crave to be handled roughly and told what to do.

My conservative upbringing taught that thinking about sex was dirty and something good girls avoided. For me to pursue any sexual fantasies was out of the question. When I was young my father would discipline me by whipping me with his leather strap, after making me smell it. At other times I was made to kneel in the dark. I think now that these episodes re-enforced my submissive longings, as painful as they were at the time. The smell of a leather strap still makes me quiver.

When Sam explained the job to me I was instantly wet. At last I would be able to finally experience all the things I had lusted for all those years. But I was also apprehensive about what was going to happen to me. I knew I would be degraded and used as a sex toy by Sam and have to do whatever he ordered me to. If I am honest with myself I have to admit that I wanted this very much. 

The excitement I felt as he made me strip and then teased me with the crop was incredible. I wanted to shout for joy that finally I was experiencing things that I had been fantasizing about for so long. The thought of going in to work everyday and reporting to a boss like Sam both thrilled and frightened me. I knew he would probably make me play with other women, an idea that sometimes was revolting, and at other times strangely exciting.

I thought I was going mad at having these thoughts and cravings, but I knew that this was the opportunity to see if I was a really TRUE submissive. Sam seemed so sure of himself and his ability to dominate me. If anyone could do it, he was the one to train me and propel me into the lifestyle I craved. 

All these thoughts rushed through me in the time it took him to get Karen on the phone and summon her to the office. By the time he had hung up I had resolved to obey him and not question anything he asked me to do.



Chapter 5 – Sam

With some effort I controlled my raging hard on and allowed Vickie to get dressed again in her skirt and jacket before Karen arrived.

"Come in, Karen. Vickie and I have had a good talk, and she has accepted my offer of employment as my personal assistant. I would like you to take her back to your office and complete all the paperwork. Her salary is to be $75,000 a year."

Karen looked at Vickie and quickly sized up the situation. Vickie's skin was still flushed and her eyes hot. Her posture and demeanor signaled her resignation to the conditions of her employment. Karen knew that I had broken Vickie's feeble attempt to maintain her dignity and conceal her sexual needs.

"Wonderful," said Karen. "I know you will like it here, Vickie. Come with me and we'll take care of all the details. We can also chat some more and get to know each other better."

"Good," I said. "And Karen don't forget about our meeting this evening at 6 pm in my office."

She smiled. "I won't forget." Vickie followed her out of my office without saying a word.

The rest of the day I busied myself with little tasks, but my mind kept returning to the image of Vickie in her high heels and panties. I made a note to myself to send her to Victoria's Secret with the company credit card to buy all kinds of sexy lingerie. I would speak with a friend who worked there to make sure Vickie was not conservative in her selections. What Vickie would be wearing under her office attire would be "Vickie's Secret", and mine.

At 5:30 I opened my office bar and poured myself a whisky. Then I uncorked a bottle of good Chardonnay to serve to my manager of human resources. Our evening conferences always seemed to go better when wine was available.

Promptly at six Karen knocked on my door. Everyone else had gone home, and I had phoned my wife to tell her I would be working late. "Come in Karen, and lock the door behind you," I said.

"Yes boss. I am here as ordered."

I handed her the glass of her favorite wine. "Let's sit on the couch and you can tell me what you think of my new assistant."

Karen sat and tucked her gorgeous legs under her. She was wearing a loose skirt and tailored blouse that hugged her firm young tits. How I got so lucky to have a good business and such a beautiful and willing subordinate I don't know. Of course her willingness might be related to the fact that I paid her almost $200,000 a year.

"Sam, you have yourself a winner in Miss Vickie," she began with a smile. "She was still so turned on when I got her back to my office I had to wipe her forehead with a damp cloth."

"Really? I knew I had her going. If I had kept it up I could have made her cum. What did she say?"

"She was very embarrassed and suspected that I had told you enough about her to encourage you to treat her the way you did. But I got her to relax and see the bright side. She needs this job and realized it was best to find out quickly what she had to do to get it."

"What did she say about the way I treated her?"

"That you dominated her completely and made it clear the job involved her sexual submission. She said she had never been so turned on in her life. She was raised to be a proper lady and never do wild and crazy things, but in ten minutes you broke her and brought out her sexual need to be bossed around by a strong man."

"She's not like you," I joked, "doing wild and crazy things all your life."

"Like this you mean?" Giving me a sexy smile she put her hand on the bulge in my pants. Her fingers searched until they closed around my growing erection.

"Whaooo," I laughed. "You haven't even finished one glass of wine, and I haven't heard all of what Vickie said."

"Pour me another glass then. But I'm going to take a hold of Mr. Happy again to see how you react to what I'm telling you."

I got up and returned with the wine bottle, not bothering to try to hide my excitement.

"My what a big thing you have my dear," she teased. "Why don't you let it out so I can pay proper attention to it.?"

"No way.... not yet. But you can touch it through my pants if you want, while you talk to me." I sat beside her and filled her glass. No sooner had I placed the bottle on the floor than she resumed her hold on my rigid cock. Taking small sips of wine she related her conversation with my new personal assistant.

"Vickie told me you had made her take her skirt and panty hose off. Is that true? If so you were taking a big risk that she would make trouble."

"It's true, but there wasn't much risk. She was not an employee at that point. And I could tell she wanted to do it."

Karen ran a long fingernail up and down the ridge in my pants. "Still, as your human resources manager I have to advise you to get something on her so she cannot complain in the future."

"Good idea," I said, trying to control my mounting excitement. "I want you to set up a three-way with you and me and her, and secretly film it. Then we can use to prove she is a willing participant if we have to. What else did she tell you?"

Leaning toward me, Karen whispered in my ear, and at the same time lowered her hand to where her fingernails could rake and tantalize my balls. "Vickie said that the combination of being humiliated and made to submit brought out feelings she did not know existed. She said that when you touched her with crop she thought she would explode. Her pussy was soaking and she kept expecting you to lay her out on that big glass table and fuck her. Why didn't you?"

"I wanted to torment her and prolong the process. It will be all the sweeter when she is forced to beg for it. Also, I want her to experience some physical pain first, so that she is thoroughly cowed and will submit to anything."

"What do you plan to do to her?"

"The next time I am going to explore those big tits. I may tie them and torture them a while before I make her cum and then fuck her."

"Ummmm.... I have such a naughty boss," said Karen as she squeezed and pulled on my cock. "Where do you get such ideas?"

With uncanny accuracy I reached over and closed my fingers on her nipple through her blouse. Her eyes popped wide open as I twisted and squeezed. "This is just a sample," I snarled. "After I put clamps on her buds I will whip the sides of her tits with the tip of my belt."

Karen liked her sex rough, and she was immediately turned on by the image of my torturing Vickie. She lay back on the couch and opened her legs, still gripping my cock. "What else are you going to do to her?"

I pulled Karen's nipple out from her body. "I have a little suction device that I'm going to put on her nipple. It will suck and stretch her flesh to twice its normal size. Then I will roll it between my fingers and nibble on it with my teeth, like this...." My mouth came down and nipped her through her blouse.

"Ohhhh... I want to see it.... Can I be there?? ... Ohh shiitt that feels good...."

"Why do you want to be there?" I teased.

"I have things I want to do to her too."

My hand began a journey under the loose skirt that had ridden up her legs. Knowing Karen there would probably be no panties in my way.

"What do you want to do to her?" I asked sweetly.

"I want to show her how good it feels to have a woman lick her pussy. She told me she had never been with a woman before. I know just how to drive her crazy with lust."

"Merely by using your beautiful mouth?"

"No, I have a favorite vibrating toy that I would shove up her ass at the same time."

"Like this?" My finger had found her bare pussy and was wet with her juices. Slowly I moved it a little further and began to ease it up into her ass. She bucked like a spurred horse and squealed with pleasure.

"YESSS.... God you make me so hot....."

I was tired of fooling around. Between Vickie and Karen I had almost, but not quite, cum ten times that day. "Get out of those clothes Karen," I ordered. "I'm ready to fuck."

She needed no urging. In less than a minute she was naked, standing by the couch and undulating her fabulous body in front of me. I picked her up under her ass and hugged her to me as I carried her over to the big table. 

"Sit your ass down on the glass while I get rid of my pants."

"Ooooo... it's so smooth and cool...."

"Shut up and raise your knees..."

I am a tall guy, and the angle was perfect for entering her. She was easy and tight and warm and cool all at the same time. That first thrust was the most delicious. I leaned back and watched her tits bounce as she humped me, driving herself toward an early climax. Karen is the most multi orgasmic woman I have ever known, and every one always seems more intense than the last.

"Fuck me you big bastard..." she screeched. "I'm ready for number two already and I'm going to squeeze it out of you."

That did it for me. I grabbed a tit and ploughed into her, driving her across the glass and then pulling her back again for more. Her pussy milked me to an ecstatic climax.

"You're incredible," I said when I got my breath. 

"I like you too," she laughed. "Now when are we going to break in your new assistant?"

"Tomorrow night, same time, same place," I said.

Chapter 6 – Vickie

After I left Karen's office I somehow found my way to the elevator and punched the button for the parking garage where I had left my car. I was in a daze, still sexually aroused, but incredulous at the situation. Karen had encouraged me to go with flow and be honest about my sexuality. I had signed all the papers and was now officially Sam's personal assistant.

When I reached my car there was no one around. I unlocked it and slipped in to the soft leather seat. As I maneuvered into driving position the edge of the seat rubbed against my pussy and set me off again. I was craving release from the incredible sexual tension. Before I knew it my hand was under my skirt and pulling aside the edge of my soaked panties. It felt so gooood....

"Ahhhhh......" It took only a few seconds of direct clitoral stimulation to make me cum. I bounced on the seat and leaned my head into the steering wheel.

I think I must have blacked out for a few seconds, because when I looked up I saw a man getting into the car next to mine. He gave me a strange look but backed out quickly and was gone. What had he seen? I felt I was totally out of control.

Alone again I closed my eyes and began replaying my interview with Karen. Why had I been compelled to give her so much information about my sexual desires and my lack of sex with my ex husband? Karen had obviously told Sam, and he had used that knowledge to manipulate me. He had made it clear that if I took the job I would be his plaything, doing anything he ordered in addition to my routine job functions.

My stomach started to wretch and I barely swung the door open in time to direct my puke on the floor of the garage instead in my car. My conflicting emotions had literally made me sick. The turn of events in my life had brought me to a point where I had lost my moorings. I was like a boat cast off in a rough sea, with no pilot at the helm. 

But what could I do? I was shaking uncontrollably as I told myself that my need for money had to outweigh my concerns about what Sam might make me do. Yet I was aware in my gut that it wasn't only the money, and that I needed what Sam could give me. I would go through with the 30 day trial period and see what happened.

Gradually my shaking subsided and I was able to start the car. There were things I had to do to get ready for my first day of work. Number one was to get rid of all my panty hose and buy some garter belts and stockings. I had just enough money left on my credit card to be able to do that. It was a good thing that aside from the panty hose, which I had never liked anyway, Sam had seemed pleased with my general appearance, and I had plenty of other similar clothing that would be suitable for wearing to the office. Money for shopping had been no object with my philandering husband.

My dresses and suits were all exquisitely tailored to outline every curve of my body. Since my breasts were my best asset I always had my blouses made a little tighter than normal. With the right bra I had no trouble attracting male attention. Remembering how Sam had made me strip in his office, I resolved to buy a good selection of sexy bra and panty sets.

Feeling considerably better I drove out of the garage and headed for my favorite department store.

Chapter 7 – Sam

I was looking forward to my first day with my new personal assistant. As I left my home in the suburbs I told my wife I would be working late again that night. She had long since lost interest in sex, and she seemed content with spending my money and letting me work whatever hours I wanted. If she suspected I had other women, she kept it to herself.

What tasks should I give to Vickie on her first day? I remembered that George Stockwell, one of my best clients, was coming to town the end of the week and bringing his new trophy wife. This guy paid my company tens of thousands every year and expected to be entertained. Knowing George, he would want some exciting female company. It would be interesting to meet his new wife.

George always enjoyed a party atmosphere and he liked luxurious, exclusive settings. I would have Vickie arrange for an overnight cruise on a private yacht along the Florida shoreline. Vickie would manage everything and come along as the hostess. I might as well find out right away if she was up to the demands of the job.

Of course, right from the first I would have to continue with her training to please me sexually. And at the end of her first day she would be subjected to my planned three-some with Karen. Miss Vickie was going to have an eventful day.





Chapter 8 – Vickie

Dressing for my new job that first morning my mind was racing and butterflies were fluttering in my stomach. The last thing I wanted to do was throw up again, and I fought back the panic. If I could just let my sexual feelings over power the little voice in my head that kept telling me to run I would be all right. As excited as I was, that shouldn't be too hard.

I put on my new garter belt and attached the silky hose that caressed my legs. When I stepped into my 5 inch designer heels and looked at myself in the mirror I had to smile. This conservative, forty year old was being transformed into a sex goddess. My nipples started to stiffen as I tucked my breasts into a white silk bra and then slid a flesh hugging white lace camisole over my head. The combination shaped my tits into turrets that I knew would be outlined against the tight jacket of my business suit.

For a moment I considered going without any panties at all, but decided that would be too brazen. Better to let Sam make me take them off, or do it himself. A shudder went through me as I pulled up the white silk thong I had bought to go with the bra.  

A black silk, knee length skirt and jacket completed my outfit. My long hair I coiled and packed on the top of my head, leaving visible a couple of silver pins that if pulled would release the thick tresses in the time-honored way that women have offered themselves to men over the centuries. A little light makeup and I was ready to make my debut. I felt sexy and was confident that Sam would approve of his new personal assistant.

As I drove into the city my excitement grew with each mile. I tried not to dwell on what Sam did to me during that first interview, but I could not get the feel or smell of the leather crop out of my mind. Would he use it on me again this morning? The thought made my nipples swell against the camisole.

Finally I turned into the parking garage. Another car had gone in just ahead of me, and I parked along side. When I looked over I was surprised to see Karen getting out. She walked around the back of her car and waited for me as I opened my door. I swung my legs out of the car, unable to keep my skirt from sliding up over my thighs and exposing the tops of my silky hose.

"Hi," she said with a knowing smile. "Nice outfit. Where did you set that sexy garter belt?"

I was mortified. My skirt must have gone up higher than I thought. "Oh, it's just something I picked up."

Karen laughed. "Don't let Sam see it or you will be on your back on that glass table before you have time for coffee."

"Ha, ha," I replied lightly. Although she had said it as a joke, I had the feeling that it could be true. 

"Come with me," she said. "I'll take you to his office and get you started. He's probably already there." 

I followed her, but after what happened yesterday I was leery of engaging in any conversation. It was clear that anything I said to her was going to be passed on to my boss.

Chapter 9 – Sam

Normally the first thing I do when I arrive at my office is make myself a cup of coffee. Now that I had a personal assistant, however, I would teach her to have a cup ready for me. On this her first day I would start the coffee, but not drink it until she arrived to serve it to me.

In a few minutes I heard Karen and Vickie coming down the hall toward my office. In a flash of inspiration I quickly retrieved the crop from the credenza and placed it across the top of my desk. I wanted to create the right atmosphere for Vickie's arrival.




The Personal Assistant



Karen knocked on my door and opened it. "Good morning Sam. I met your new assistant in the parking garage and have brought her to you."

"Thank you Karen. I will take care of her from here. Come in Vickie."

With an evil grin Karen dropped her eyes to indicate I should check out Vickie's stockings. Then she turned and left. "See you later," she said cheerfully.

Vickie stood in front of me smiling nervously. "Good morning, Sir," she said.

Reaching out I took hold of her hand. "Good morning, Vickie. Welcome to my company." I could feel the tension in her body, and she trembled slightly, as if my touch were electric. Good, she was just anxious enough to make conquering her a pleasure.

I took a step back and spoke sternly. "Please stand still so I can inspect you. Appearances are very important in our business, and I will check you over every morning to make sure your attire and demeanor are impeccable. No matter what your assignment is for the day, you are to come to my office first thing to be inspected, and to make my coffee, which is to be ready promptly at 9 am."

"Yes Sir," she said.

She was off balance and I wanted to keep her that way. I relished the power I had over her and the way she reacted to my manner. Continuing in a harsh tone I warned her about displeasing me.

"Any error in how you present yourself will be dealt with swiftly and painfully. Do you understand?" As I said those words I turned and looked at the crop on my desk. Vickie followed my eyes and gasped. I saw a rustle in her skirt as she reflexively clenched her thighs together.

"Now for the first few days, until I can be sure you have learned to wear the right underware, I will require that you take off your skirt and jacket, just as you did in the interview. I trust you are not wearing panty hose again."

"Oh no Sir," she said quickly.

"Well then get on with it." I picked the crop up off of my desk and sat on one of the stools. "And you can leave your clothes off while you make the coffee."

Her face was flushed and her chest heaved as my words sunk in. She seemed paralyzed.

I tapped the crop on my leg. "I'm waiting," I said.

Chapter 10 – Vickie

The tapping of the crop was like the clock ticking in the old Gary Cooper movie "High Noon." Even though I had expected something like this, it was still so foreign to my experience that I held back. I was literally trembling.

Sam seemed in no hurry. It was like he wanted to make me cross the threshold on my own. Then I would be fully committed. This would be the first day of the rest of my life under his command.

Finally I found my voice. "Can you please lock the door first?"

"No."

"No?"

"I said No!"

"But... but....."

"Yes, someone might come in, but it won't matter. You are now my personal assistant, and the other employees are soon going to know the nature of your job. We have few secrets here."

"Do the other executives do things like this in their offices?"

"Of course. We are known for our ultra liberal atmosphere. It's one of the reasons we are so successful in signing up new clients. Now take off those clothes before I get angry."

The crop slapped against the leg of his stool in a way that sent an unambiguous signal. If I did not get with the program I was going to suffer. I inhaled deeply and resigned to give it my best shot. My jacket, skirt, and lace camisole soon lay in a heap on the floor. Standing before him I hoped he liked my lingerie. He looked me over but didn't say anything.

To cover my embarrassment I tried to act like everything was normal. "How would you like your coffee Sir?"

"Black. I made it for you this morning, but from now on you get here earlier and have it ready."

"Yes Sir."

As I turned to the coffee machine on the credenza I caught a glimpse of a smile cross his lips. I moved slowly, giving him a good look at my nearly naked body. When I had filled his cup and started back toward him, the smile was gone, replaced by as powerful a look of lust as I have ever seen. Just looking into his eyes made me weak in the knees. I leaned forward to hand him the cup and deliberately hung my tits in front of his face. Surely he would grab me and pull me into his lap.

Instead he leaned back and sipped on the coffee. "Thank you Vickie."

I stood before him like a supplicant slave girl, not knowing what to say or do next. My heart was pounding. He continued to sip his coffee and move his hot eyes over my body. It was clear he would act when he was good and ready; my uncomfortable situation didn't matter. Or maybe he wanted to prolong it.

Suddenly he put his cup on the floor and stood. The crop appeared in his hand and extended toward me, the little flap just touching the point of one breast. The sensual smell of the oiled leather was over powering. He raised the crop and traced the curve of my tits through the bra until the flap arrived at the other nipple. My chest heaved as I tried to press my nipple against the leather tormentor. 

"Please......."

"Please what?" he asked as he walked around me, dragging the crop over my shoulders and down my spine. When it reached the top of my ass he let it go lower, right into the valley between my cheeks, inching ever so slowly downward toward my pussy. "Please stop, or please continue?"

It took all my will power to remain still. My pussy was completely soaked, and I was hoping he wouldn't touch me there and see what he had already done to me. "I... oh god... please don't tease me any more ...."

Grabbing my arm he spun me around so we were facing each other, inches apart. Then he dropped the crop and put both hands on my ass, pulling me against the hard rod in his pants. "You're lucky I even want to tease you, considering your ugly old lady underware. Just because you are wearing a thong does not make it sexy. It has no style. And your bra covers too much and is so stiff I can barely feel your nipples, even though I know they are hard as marbles."

It was true. My nipples were like stone pebbles and my pussy was soaking. His big hand slipped under the back strap of my bra and jerked until it broke free. Then he did the same thing to the thin bands of my thong.

"We will be getting you some more appropriate undergarments," he growled as he pushed me back and lifted the torn lingerie from my body. Except for my garter belt, stockings, and heels, I was now naked. He looked me over like he was appraising a painting in a gallery.

"Very nice. Beautiful breasts and ample hips, not too big. I am going to enjoy you, starting now. Get over there and lie across my desk."

When I hesitated he stooped and picked up the crop. As fast as I could I moved toward the desk, but still he caught my ass with two sharp blows. As my thighs hit the edge of the heavy, wooden desk, I felt his hand on my back bending me over. His voice was horse with desire.

"Grab the far edge and hang on. Good... Now spread your legs..."

It is difficult to describe how I felt at that moment. I could picture the lewd spectacle I was making, my bare ass up in the air hanging off the edge of my boss's desk. With my thighs open the damp hairs on my pussy would be glistening at him in open invitation. My ass stung from where he had spanked me. I was embarrassed and humiliated, but also as turned on as I have ever been. 

He ran his fingers lightly over my exposed pussy and taunted me. "You need this, don't you Vickie?" I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being opened.

"Ohh......", was all I could manage.

"Tell me what you want, Vickie."

"Goddddd....... ahhhhh... you know.... don't make me say it...."

"Say it bitch!"

I was broken. There was no point in denying him. "I want your cock in me.... fuck me...... pleassssse.. fuck me NOW.."

His attack was so sudden and powerful that I could hardly catch my breath. The first stroke opened me like pealed fruit, and the second reached deep into my gut. After the third I was close to orgasm, shaking and pushing back against him. His mouth was against my ear.

"No," he growled. "You don't get to cum unless I give you permission. I want to keep you on edge all day. Now use your pussy muscles to milk me. I am very close."

"Pleassssseee..", I moaned, desperate for release. 

A hand closed on one breast, pinching the nipple cruelly. "I told you to squeeze me," he whispered.

Without my even thinking about it my pussy spasmed on his cock. It was like he had direct control over that part of my body. The pressure set him off, and I felt a gusher erupt into me. He moaned, kissing my ear and cheek. I wanted so badly to cum, but he pulled out and left me just below the peak.

"Not bad," he said, still breathing heavily. "You have a nice tight pussy."

He walked around the desk until his wet cock was hanging in front of my face. Wrapping his hand in my hair, he pulled me toward him. The odor of sex stimulated my juices even more.

"Now look at the mess you've made," he said. "I don't want any of this on my pants. Use your mouth to clean me."

I did as he ordered, enjoying hearing the little sounds of pleasure come from his throat. The taste of him kept my blood boiling. But after a minute he seemed satisfied and eased his cock back in his pants.

"Very good, Vickie," he said. "I wanted you to have an energy drink to start your day. Now get dressed. I am sending you shopping."

With that he picked up my torn thong and bra and threw them in the waste basket. I was just starting to get up off the desk when he picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory.





Chapter 11 – Sam

Looking down at Vickie as she licked my cock clean I couldn't help feeling pleased with myself for choosing such a perfect personal assistant. I had expected some hesitation this morning, and was pleasantly surprised at her reactions. I may just have to feed her a breakfast energy drink every morning.

But that underware was terrible. I had to teach her to stop thinking of herself as a middle-aged woman, and more like a vamp. My friend Ginger at Victoria's Secret was just the person to help me do that.

As I dialed Ginger's private line I enjoyed watching Vickie slip her camisole over her head and then struggle into her business suit, minus any other under garments. Ginger would be amused when I sent her a customer dressed liked that.

"When you are dressed, go sit on the stool," I said to Vickie as Ginger's line was ringing. "Keep your skirt raised so I can see your legs."

Ginger answered after the fourth ring. "Hello, Ginger speaking," she said in her sultry voice. Only her best private clients had this number. "How might I serve you today?"

I laughed at her suggestive tone. "Hello my dear. This is Sam, and I have a new customer for you."

"Sam! It is so good to hear from you. I thought you had forgotten about me. It has been ages since you sent one of your special friends to see me."

"No way I would ever forget you and your services," I said cheerily. "After my friends visit you they come back much improved, in both appearance and attitude."

"That's my job," she chirped. "Who do you have for me this time?"

"Her name is Vicky, and she is my new personal assistant. She will be involved in entertaining me and my clients, and I want her to look good in all situations." Saying this I scanned Vicky up and down and gave her wink. In response she squirmed on the stool and stuck out her tongue at me. She was really getting into the spirit of things.

Ginger replied in her usual straightforward way. "What kind of body are you sending me to work with?"

I was glad Vickie could not hear Ginger's end of the conversation. It might have put her off. "You will have no problem there," I said. "She is a little older than the others, but she has all the right assets."

"Any special requests?"

"You know what I like. Make what she wears a sexy surprise under her conservative business clothes." 

"No problem. When is she coming?"

"She'll be there in half an hour. You have a $2,000 budget. Spend it all."

"Yum."

"Bye for now," I said and hung up the phone.

At the mention of the budget for just lingerie, Vickie's eyes lit up. "That's very generous Sir," she said.

"Go now. I want you back by lunch time, as I have an important assignment for you this afternoon. And don't give Ginger any problems or you will suffer the consequences. Understood?"

"Yes Sir."

Chapter 12 – Vickie

I couldn't believe what happened that morning! What a way to start a new job! I wondered if he was going to fuck me make me suck his cock every morning. As I slid off of the stool I was aware of the continued dampness on my bare pussy. I thought of what I had done the day before in the parking garage.

It was exciting that Sam wanted me to have erotic lingerie to please him and his clients, but I hoped he was not going to make me service his clients the way I had to service him. Heading to my car I could not help but feel excited as the cool air wafted over my warm, damp pussy. With no panties on to soak up my juices I would have to resort to using a paper towel to wipe myself dry. I certainly could not go into Victoria's Secret and let Ginger see me dripping.

It took me only twenty minutes to drive across town to the store. I checked my watch to make sure I got back by lunch time. As I walked into the store there was bubbly, voluptuous Ginger waiting for me. 

"Hi there. You must be Vickie. I'm Ginger."

Ginger was very attractive and super friendly. With her young, lush body she could be one of the Victoria's Secret models. I suddenly felt very old. But then I remembered that Ginger knew my boss had sent me to buy lingerie to please him, and I was embarrassed.

"Hello Ginger. This must seem like a strange situation to you."

She laughed. "Not at all. Our best customers are the men with charge accounts who send their women to see us. Any woman who doesn't take advantage of that is crazy."

"I'm not sure exactly what he wants me to buy."

"Leave that to me," said Ginger. "I have already laid out some items for you to try on. It's important to get the size right."

Taking my arm Ginger led me to a large dressing room at the back of the store. Several other clerks smiled at us as we passed them, making my face even redder. 

"Here we are," she said. "I'll lock the door so we won't be disturbed. Now take off all your clothes except for your stockings and heels, and we can begin. I understand you have to be back on the job by noon."

I was surprised that Ginger was staying in the room with me. Looking around I searched for a door or curtain to a private cubicle where I could try on things, but there was none. Instead there was a low platform in the middle of the room, and beside it an upholstered arm chair, which is where Ginger settled herself. Many pieces of lingerie were scattered on top of a long wooden table against one wall.

"Could I please have some privacy while I try these things on?" I asked.

"Sorry dear. Store policy is that a sales clerk must be present. You would not believe how many of our expensive pieces get stolen by women if we leave them alone. Sometimes women will come in wearing no under garments under their clothes, and then leave wearing our best stuff. It's incredible."

Now I was really embarrassed. I could not take off my clothes and reveal that I was like those women. "You don't have to worry about me stealing anything. Now please leave. I have never undressed in front of another woman."

Ginger's face took on a hard appearance. "Do I have to call Sam and tell him you think you are too special to abide by store policy? Other women he has sent have had no problem. Knowing Sam, you will be in big trouble."

She was right. Sam would not be pleased to hear complaints from Ginger. I had no choice.

"Oh all right," I said. "But I am not like those other women—the ones who come in to steal things."

As nonchalantly as I could manage I began taking off my clothes. Ginger sat silently, watching me with a satisfied look on her face. When it became obvious that I was wearing neither bra nor panties, her eyes opened wide.

"Well, I see why you didn't want me here," she smirked.

My face was very red. "It's not what you think. Sam made me throw away my old underware." 

"Good for Sam. You have a great body and we are going to fit you in things to show it off properly." She pointed to my garter belt and hose. "Take those off too. I want to outfit you totally in our garments. After all, we have to spend $2,000."

For the next hour I tried on endless combinations of the sexiest lingerie I had ever seen. There wasn't one bra that covered half as much as my old one – the one Sam had ripped off of me. Ginger had brought in items of various sizes and made sure I selected the ones that fit properly. The materials were of the finest silk, with each outfit more beautiful and sexy than the last.

When I had put on the last set, a filmy blue half bra with matching thong, Ginger got up from her chair and walked up to the edge of the platform. "You are a beautiful woman," she said.

I did not like the lustful look in her eyes. "Thank you," I mumbled and started to step down.

"Wait," she said. "I am not sure this outfit is the proper size." One hand went to the cleavage between my breasts and the other started sliding down my lower stomach.

"No," I said and pushed her hands away. "Everything fits just fine."

Her eyes flashed. "As you wish," she said sharply. "I just hope that Sam agrees. Take off those items you are wearing so I can pack everything up and prepare the bill."

"I would like to wear these last pieces so that I can go back to work feeling dressed."

"Sorry," she said in a tone that indicated she was getting even. "Store policy is that I must pack everything. You must leave the way you came in."

She left and I got dressed. Ten minutes later I picked up my packages and went back to my car. Unbeknownst to me she had immediately picked up the phone and called Sam, because when I got back to Sam's office he was waiting for me with an angry look on this face. 



Chapter 13 – Sam

I knew when Vickie left that she would come back with some very enticing lingerie to entertain both me and my clients. I could always count on Ginger knowing my taste. Sitting back and looking out the big windows in my penthouse office I planned the rest of my day with Vickie in mind. I managed to do a little useful work, and the morning went quickly.

It was almost noon when Ginger called to tell me that Vickie had pushed Ginger's hands away when she was trying to check the fit of some items. I knew that Ginger was bisexual, but that did not matter. I had specifically told Vickie not to give Ginger any trouble. That kind of disobedience had to be dealt with severely, and right away. It was obvious that Vickie had not been broken in yet.

When Vickie came into my office I was sitting on the stool waiting for her. "How did things go with Ginger?" I asked.

"Very well," she replied. "I think you will be pleased with what I bought."

"That's not what I heard," I said with a scowl. "Come here and look at me."

Vickie looked alarmed, but came and stood before me. "What do you mean?" 

I stood and grabbed her by the hair, bending her neck back. "I'll ask you again. How did things go with Ginger?"

All at once it seemed to dawn on her. "Did that bitch call you and tell you I had pushed her away when she started caressing me?"

"She's not a bitch; she's my friend. And I told you to obey her. You are to follow my instructions whether I am with you or not." I pulled harder on her hair, and her eyes started to water.

"I'm sorry Sam.... she was getting fresh.... you didn't tell me I was supposed to have sex with her. I have never been with a woman before."

"When I tell you to obey someone that means you do whatever they want. You have to be taught a lesson. Now get out of those clothes again." I felt myself getting hard. The fact that she had never been with a woman was going to make for an interesting evening with Karen.




The Personal Assistant



"Please Sam, I have been naked more than I've been dressed today."

I had to laugh at that. But I was determined not to tolerate her disobedience. I wanted her under my thumb completely, no matter how many times I had to strip her in my office. And this time she was really going to understand about consequences. 

"Strip," I ordered, pushing her away. "Show me some of that new expensive underware."

Vickie looked stricken. She was sobbing softly as she slowly began removing her clothes. I was surprised to see that she was still naked under her skirt and camisole.

"You are such a slut," I said.

"Ginger would not let me wear the new things out of the store," she whimpered.

"No matter. You can put some on when I am finished with you."

In another minute she was in her stockings and heels and nothing else, clearly apprehensive as I looked her over with fire in my eyes. "Go over to the credenza and pick one of the paddles. You have a choice of a wooden one, or a leather one. And don't bend your knees when you are looking for them."

I have always found it very satisfying to make your victim bring you the instrument of their punishment. It adds to their humiliation and submission. In this case it had the added benefit of requiring Vickie to bend over with her ass in the air as she searched in the low cabinet.

My collection of sex toys includes two special paddles that I had purchased on line from 'Adam and Gillian's' website. One was solid oak in the shape of an enlarged ping pong paddle. The other was basically a short leather strap attached to a wooden handle. Numerous holes the size of a quarter were located throughout the strap. Vickie wisely chose this one, knowing that the flexibility would lessen the pain.

"Go stand by the window," I ordered, "down at the end."

My office is on a corner of the building, high up, with large windows on two sides. There are metal slat curtains that can be closed to keep out the sun, but that day the curtains were pulled to the sides. The windows go almost all the way to the floor, except for a radiator grill that runs along the base, about a foot high. It was summertime, and the radiators were off.

"Face the end window, bend over, and put your hands on top of the radiator. Don't move your hands, no matter what."

Vickie was resigned to her fate and did as I instructed. Her ass came up and presented a perfect target. At the same time her big tits hung below her, swinging slowly back and forth as she squirmed in anticipation. Her position in the windows exposed her profile on one side and her tearful face on the other. I wondered if any of my neighbors in the adjoining skyscrapers would be watching.

SLAPPP.... My first swing of the leather paddle caught her squarely in the middle of her ass. It was a hard spank that I knew would get her attention.

"OHHH..... THAT REALLY HURT....."

"It was supposed to. Now listen to me. The length and severity of your punishment will depend on how well you take it and your attitude. You are not to move or resist. If necessary I can tie you to the window with the cords on the curtains."

"Yes sir...."

Before resuming I teased the reddened skin on her ass with my fingernails. Then I began a systematic spanking of her ass cheeks and upper thighs—not too hard, but with enough force so that each blow stung sharply.

SLaap... Whapp.... Slapp... WHAAP... SLAPP.......

"Ohhhh.... goddddd..... ahhhh.... whaaaaa......" Vickie cried and twisted and squirmed, but she held her position.

I paused. "What are you learning?"

"OHHH... I am learning to do what you tell me... I promise.... I have learned."

"Spread your legs." She did and my hand dipped to feel her wetness. "I think your lesson needs reinforcement."

Just then my cell phone started vibrating in my pocket. I retrieved it with my free hand, while with the other I maneuvered the smooth leather of the paddle around between her legs. She moaned.

"Hello," I said into the phone. The caller was a friend of mine whose office was on the same floor in the building next door. He told me he was enjoying the show I was putting on in my window. It was a good opportunity to increase Vickie's humiliation. 

"Yes Charlie. I'm glad you happen to be looking out your window. I have this new personal assistant who needs to be taught the importance of obedience."

Charlie and I had similar tastes and had often partied together. From the tone of his voice I knew he was excited by the idea that I had a new employee who could be abused in this way. He was hoping to be invited to participate. I egged him on to further torment Vickie.

"By all means, Charlie. Have your secretary bring your binoculars. I am not through yet. What's that? You want me to spank those hanging tits? But Charlie, that would hurt terribly, don't you think?"

Now Vickie was really squirming. She knew how vulnerable her tits were in her position. I teased her by tapping them with the paddle and letting a nipple stick through one of the holes in the leather. By moving the paddle sideways I could agitate her nipple against the lining of the hole.

"OH GOD Sam... I'll be good....I really will.....please don't do this to me in the window in front of the whole world....."

I ignored her and continued my conversation with Charlie. "Charlie, why don't you call Phil and tell him what's going on? His office is directly under yours and he could see just as well..... okay, bye for now, we'll get together soon."

Vickie clearly had not learned her lesson. She persisted in telling me what she wanted and didn't want. It was going to take many sessions for her to realize that she should be concerned only for my pleasure. If I wanted to show her off in the window, she should not protest. The fact that she did gave me an excuse to punish her more, and do it in front of Charlie and Phil, and who knows who else. At the very least, Charlie's secretary was watching.

Chapter 14 – Vickie

Why had I rebuffed Ginger's advances? That was stupid. I should have known she would be like Karen and tell Sam everything. Sooner or later I was going to have to submit to a woman anyway. I had brought this punishment on myself. 

Overhearing the phone conversation and knowing I was being watched by both men and women was so embarrassing. And any hope that my spanking would end soon was dashed with Sam's next words.

"So you don't like being put in the window. Too bad. Now that I know we have an audience, I think we should give them a better show. Stand up and face the glass."

Before I knew it Sam had raised my arms and tied my wrists to the curtain cords on either side of the big pane of glass. "Now spread your legs and press your toes into the vents in the radiator grill. That's it. Perfect."

I was stretched in front of the window like an animal skin, facing outside for all to see. Except for my stockings and heels I was completely naked. Sam pushed me in the back and my tits flattened against the cool glass. Looking down I could see little figures on the sidewalk. I was terrified of falling through the glass.

"Sam, please let me down..... I'm scared of crashing through the window."

His answer was to rain a series of hard slaps on my ass with the leather paddle. Every time I knew one was coming I tried to lessen the sting by pushing my hips forward, which of course pressed me against the window.

"Ohhhh..... arrrrrwww......"

"Did I not tell you before you accepted this job that any disobedience would be dealt with swiftly and painfully?"

"Yes Sir... I am sorry Sir...."

"You are now going to get twenty spanks, and you are to count each one and thank me for correcting you."

SMACK

"One.... thank you Sir."

SMACK

"Two... thank you Sir."

I kept up the count and tried not to press against the glass. My stomach was churning from looking down from that dizzying height. After the tenth spank I clenched my eyes tightly shut. I was trembling.

Sam would not have it. "Open your eyes, Vickie. Look at the buildings across the way and see if you see anyone watching you."

Looking up I could see groups of people at several of the windows in the closest building. "Ohh.. nooooo...."

"You like it Vickie. Your nipples are hard as rocks, and your pussy has smeared stuff all over the glass."

It was true. I was turned on by the whole scene. As I counted out the remaining spanks I realized I was close to orgasm. If Sam had put that leather up between my legs it would have been all over. But he stopped and whispered in my ear.

"Are you ready to abide by the rules of your employment?"

"Yes Sir. I will do anything and everything that you want. Just please let me get away from this window. I am so dizzy."

"OK, I will untie you. But the first thing you have to do is clean my window... using your tongue."

Oh, the humiliation! Sam kept coming up with things to degrade me. Why was it that with each new abomination I felt a fresh wave of excitement? He released my wrists, and I bent over to put my mouth on the glass where I had wet it with my juices. The view looking down sent adrenalin rushing through my veins. I closed my eyes and licked.

"Good girl," he said as he patted my sore ass like I was his pet dog.



Chapter 15 – Sam

Spanking Vickie in the window was very exciting, and I was ready to lay her out on my desk and fuck her again. But there was work to be done. I couldn't spend the entire day playing. 

"That's enough. You can get dressed now. And put on some underware for god's sake. You now have to become a normal office worker and get busy making arrangements for George Stockwell's visit."

"My new undies are still my car," she whined.

"Well," I laughed, "you can get them when you go to lunch. In the meantime put your clothes back on so I can think about something other than fucking you."

"Yes Sir," she said and hurried to pick up her clothes from the floor. I noted how glad she was to be away from the window. Since she was so uncomfortable there, it would be a good place to discipline her in the future.

I sat at my desk and watched her put on her clothes. As she covered herself her confidence seemed to return. Her expression changed from one of defeated resignation to one that said she could take whatever I dished out. I was pleased that she was not a push over; it made it more fun to train her.

When she was fully dressed I held out a file for her to take. "Here is the information on a yacht rental service. Stockwell will be here on Friday. Make arrangements for a two night private cruise. The ship should have a full crew and at least four staterooms. You should make sure that one of the crew is young, pretty, and willing... if you know what I mean."

She didn't bat an eye. "I understand. Will I be going on the cruise too?"

"Yes. I told you that you would be the hostess. You will be there and on call to make sure everything goes smoothly. You and I will share a stateroom."

"What kinds of activities does Mr. Stockwell like? Should I arrange for fishing, or scuba diving?"

I laughed. "Stockwell likes to eat, drink, and fuck. But I don't know about his new wife. You should be prepared for everything and anything."

"How do I make a deposit to secure the yacht rental?

"Take this credit card. It's good up to $10,000. The full price will be more than that, and when you need to pay give me the details so I can do a bank transfer."

"Okay boss," she said with a smile. "Do I have a desk and phone somewhere?"

"Of course, right next door. Turn left down the hall and it's the first door on your right. You even have your own private bathroom."

Vickie took the folder and exited my office, swinging her hips ever so slightly. "Classy," she said as she went out the door. I detected a little sauciness in her tone and smiled. It would be more fun breaking her if she was a bit feisty.

Chapter 16 – Vickie

I was mortified to have to lick the window clean. When Sam patted my ass like I was his pet dog and said "good girl" I swear I could have just exploded right then. Why oh why am I so turned on by all this humiliation? I was glad when Sam told me to get dressed and I could finally get down to some work. A warm rush had surged through my body when Sam said I would be staying in his cabin with him. Maybe he would treat me more as an equal if we were sleeping together.

Even though I know Sam is enjoying what he does to me and at times so am I, I just can't help thinking that all this is wrong. His touch and the touch of the paddle and crop excite me so much, but my mind still is awash in conflicting emotions. I wish I had someone I could talk to about all this, but I would be too ashamed and embarrassed.

My office was small and had no window, but it was adequate, and at least it gave me some privacy. After what I had been put through that day a little seclusion felt good.

The first thing I did was go down to my car to bring up the packages from Victoria's Secret. I wasn't hungry so I skipped lunch and spent time in my bathroom trying on my new outfits. My bum was still burning from Sam's twenty whacks, and I made sure to put on only the softest and silkiest of panties. I felt even sexier in the new lingerie than I had wearing nothing.

Without a doubt I was enthralled by Sam and the situation I was in. He had been hard on me, but at the same time I knew he desired me and was experimenting with ways to excite me and make me want him. As I thought about the way he masterfully played on my submissive sexuality the little birds in my stomach woke up and began fluttering around again. I had to get a grip on myself.

In my past life I had once been a successful administrator in a bank and knew I had the ability to be good at the 'regular' part of this new job. I wanted to be more than just a fuck toy for my boss. In my gut I knew he would enjoy me more if he also respected me. Plus I would feel a lot better about myself.

Now how had I come up with that term 'fuck toy'? It was so vulgar and so humiliating. But as I repeated those words in my head I felt myself getting wet. It reminded me of all the submission stories I had read and found so exciting. The idea of being a man's fuck toy with no control over what he did to me sent shivers down my spine.

I sat at my desk and opened the folder Sam had given me. There were three fancy brochures from companies who chartered large motor yachts. The ships were huge, with multiple bedrooms, sitting areas, bars, sun decks, and even small swimming pools. Costs ranged from $50,000 to $100,000 a week. Crews of 4 to 6 people were advertised to cater to your every whim. I smiled at that one.

Picking up the phone I dialed the number on the first brochure. A man answered.

"Luxury Charters, good afternoon. May I help you?"

"Yes, I am calling from the Atwood Advertising Agency. I would like some information on a two night cruise this coming weekend."

"Well, normally our rentals are by the week, but our premier yacht, 'The Lady Jane', happens to be idle this weekend. For three days and two nights with a full crew the cost would be $30,000."

I did not let his early reference to the price phase me. "I see pictures and specifications for 'The Lady Jane' in your brochure. It has four staterooms, correct?"

"That's right, each with its own bath. And 'The Lady Jane' is not an 'it'. She is a 'she'."

This guy was a snob of the first order. "I'm sure 'she' is beautiful. What about the crew?"

"They are beautiful too," he laughed. "There is captain, a first mate, a cook, and a stewardess."

"Excellent. But I would need a special kind of stewardess."

"What do you mean?"

"My boss will be entertaining an important client who likes to party, if you get my drift."

"Oh, I see...."

"His actual instructions were: 'young, pretty, and willing.'"

"Ahm..... I think that can be arranged. We have had similar requests before. It would of course cost more."

"Not a problem, but I would have to interview the girl first."

"The girl I have in mind is named Felicia, and I know you would approve. She is a petite Latin beauty who likes to party. But how do I know you are serious?"

"I will give you a credit card number now, with authorization to charge me $1,000 whether I take the charter or not. If after meeting your stewardess I decide to go ahead, I will transfer half of the charter amount to your bank account immediately, and the balance on Friday when we board the yacht."

The tone of his voice changed. "You have yourself a deal. Give me the credit card information and I will call you when you can come by our office to meet the stewardess and sign the papers."

"I'm afraid it will have to be this afternoon at 4 pm. Otherwise I must call someone else."

Now he knew he was not dealing with a namby-pamby secretary. There was a long pause. "Very good madam. Come to the address on the brochure at 4 pm."

I gave him the credit card information and promised to fax a confirmation. Then feeling very satisfied with myself I leaned back in my chair. It was amazing what you could do with money. I could do things like this all day. This was easy. The hard part of my job was going to be keeping Sam satisfied. But then keeping him satisfied was going to do the same for me.

Chapter 17 – Sam

Six o'clock finally arrived, and Karen appeared at my office door. "Party time, boss," she announced cheerfully. "Where's your new assistant?"

"She has been out arranging for a boat trip to entertain the Stockwells this weekend. I do have legitimate work for her you know."

"Sure, sure," she laughed. "I'll bet our Vickie is very efficient. But we can always find excuses to punish her."

"You are the personnel manger from hell," I said. "As a matter of fact I already had to punish her today. She resisted Ginger's sexual advances when Ginger was fitting her with new underware, in spite of the fact I told her not to give Ginger any trouble."

Karen's eyes lit up. "Really? That is a serious offense. I am going to have to add my chastisement to whatever you did to her. She must learn to submit to women as well as to men."

"I thought you might have that attitude. Start the video recording system and pour us a drink while I go see if she's back in her office."

I left Karen fidgeting with the video controls and went down the hall to Vickie's office. She was sitting at her desk with various documents and pictures spread out in front of her. One of the pictures was of a striking young brunette in an iridescent blue bikini. The others were shots of the exteriors and interiors of a luxury yacht.

"Is this the boat you have chartered for us?" 

She smiled prettily and handed me a paper. "It is as soon as you transfer $20,000 to this bank account. The other half will be due on Friday when we board."

"Not cheap, but a fraction of what Stockwell pays us every year. Does the girl come with the boat?"

"She does indeed. And I have interviewed her in depth. Her name is Felicia. You will not be disappointed in either her beauty or her attitude."

I was beginning to have new respect for Vickie. The fact that she had taken it on herself to interview the key member of the crew told me a lot about her intelligence and initiative. "Make sure she brings that blue bikini," I said. "She looks fantastic in that picture."

Vickie smiled. "I already told her that. And she knows she can expect a big tip if the weekend goes well. She is taking care of a sick sister and really needs the money."

"You have impressed me. Good job. But now you must come to my office to meet with Karen and me so we can review your overall performance on your first day."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise, but followed me down the hall to my office. Karen was leaning up against the glass table sipping her wine. There was fire in her eyes.




The Personal Assistant



"Come in Vickie," she said forcefully as Vickie hesitated at the door. "I heard about your disgraceful behavior at Victoria's Secret. Were you not told to obey Ginger?"

"I... I didn't know..." Vickie was clearly taken back by Karen's hostile attack.

"You didn't know what? You didn't know you were supposed to obey? How many times had both Sam and I told you that?"

"But she was a woman..."

I took my drink and sat to one side on the stool. By nodding to Karen I let her know that it was okay with me if she disciplined Vickie. In fact I kind of hoped that Karen would go overboard so that I could punish Karen later. Everything she did to Vickie would be done to her in spades. I loved torturing that tight body of hers and driving her up the wall.

Karen walked over to the door and closed it. Then she turned to stare at Vickie. "You have to get over any problems you have about sex with women. Now take off your clothes. I want to see that nice lingerie the company bought you."

Vickie looked at me for help, but I just shrugged. "Do as Karen says. Always do as Karen says."

"The longer you make me wait, the harder I'm going to be on you," growled Karen.

For the umpteenth time that day Vickie stripped off her jacket, skirt, and camisole. She stood before us in black lace panties and a black push up bra that mounded and displayed her flesh like ripe fruit. A matching garter belt held the sheer stockings that encased her long legs. She looked very sexy, and she knew it.

"Good girl," said Karen. "Ginger selected well for you. From now on you will automatically strip down to your sexy underware whenever you are called to meet with us at the end of the day. Now come over her so I can examine you."

Vickie took a deep breath and walked over to Karen. I loved having Karen take charge. It allowed me to relax and enjoy the show. I had seen Karen at work before and knew that she would soon have Vickie groveling and crying for release. My cock was pushing hard against my pants.

Karen folded her arms in front of her like an angry school teacher. "Now put your hands on your head and spread your legs. Offer yourself to me like a good sub."

Closing her eyes, Vickie did as ordered, arching her body in a gesture of surrender. Karen reached out and put her hands on Vickie's waist, then moved them slowly upward to the sides of her breasts. Using her long fingernails she traced the lace patterns on the bra until the tips of her fingers were poking the turgid nipples that distended the fabric.

"Ahhh...." Vickie squirmed and shimmied her tits in an effort to avoid the sharp nails. Applying more pressure with her finger tips, Karen maintained contact with the swinging globes. I was getting harder by the second.

Karen looked at me. "Sam, please help me restrain this bitch so that I can do her properly. She has not yet learned to hold still."

"No problem," I said. "I'll tie her to the clothes tree."

In one corner of my office I had an elaborate clothes tree that had been given to me by a client. It was made of heavy oak and was in the shape of a real tree, with branches at various heights for hanging jackets and coats. The base was wide and strong, providing good stability. This 'tree' was not going to tip over even if pulled by a frantically twisting person tied to its branches.

I took Vickie by the arm and marched her over to the tree. Karen followed with some Velcro straps she had retrieved from the credenza. "Put your hands behind you Vickie," I ordered.

"Please no... you don't have to do this.... I'll hold still.. I promise."

Karen sneered at her. "But Vickie dear, you won't be able to hold still the first time we do these things to you. Maybe later, after you are trained, but not now."

After binding her wrists together I pushed her back against the trunk of the tree between two branches. Karen pulled her upper arms back and used two other straps to secure them to the trunk. The result was that Vickie's breasts were thrust forward, threatening to burst out of the little bra that contained them. Another strap went around her throat to keep her head up. Her legs and feet were left free to move around, as I knew they would when Karen started punishing her.

I stood back. Vickie looked incredibly sexy in her high heels and fancy underware. I wanted to run my hands over her body, but I deferred to Karen. "How's that Karen? Is she sufficiently restrained?"

"Yes and no. She can't move very far, but her tits will jiggle and jerk when I go to work on them. We have to compress and tie them. I'll get the rope. Would you please get rid of her bra?"

"My god..... what are you doing to me?......." wailed Vickie.

"Shut up bitch," snarled Karen. "You are going to be taught to be a good slut."

Vickie's new bra had a little clasp in the front, making it easy for me to release the cups. Her big tits burst free. I was pleased to see that her nipples were long and hard. My hands came up of their own accord and nestled over the round globes, letting the hard kernels poke into the very center of my palms, a place where by rotating my wrists I could apply friction and stimulation to the sensitive tips.

"Ahhhh.....", she moaned.

"How do you feel Vickie?" I asked innocently. "You are totally helpless you know. Karen and I are going to torment you until you can't stand it. You will be begging us to let you cum."

"Oh goddd....."

Karen came over with the rope. "I love this new rope," she cooed. "It's just the right thickness, and the rough hemp is going to agitate her skin in a most delightful way."

Expertly Karen wrapped the rope around Vickie's tits and shoulders and forced her tightened flesh forward, with the nipples pointing upward at a rakish angle. Vickie's eyes kept darting from Karen to me and back, full of both apprehension and excitement. 

In two minutes it was done. Vickie's swollen tits were totally vulnerable. Karen's eyes were flashing. "Wonderful," she said. "Now where is that plastic ruler?"

"OH NO....", moaned Vickie, as she realized what Karen was planning.

"Oh yes," said Karen, returning from my desk with the ruler. It was broad and thin and very flexible--the perfect little paddle for stinging Vickie's tits. Its short length meant that Karen could wield it with great accuracy. The first slap landed just under her right nipple.

"AGGRRR...." 

More slaps followed quickly, above and below both nipples, causing Vickie to writhe against her bindings. Tears flooded her eyes, but her face was flushed and I detected a slight humping motion in her hips. As I expected, she was getting turned on.

Karen paused. "Before I do the nipples I think you should apply some suction to make them bigger targets," she said.

I had been thinking the same thing. The prior week I had received some special suction devices that I had ordered from my favorite on line sex shop, Adam and Gillian.

Going to my desk I opened a drawer and took out two little glass bell jars. These transparent bells were designed to fit over the nipples and areolas, with the rims snuggled up against the surrounding flesh. A small brass air valve at the top of the bell allowed you to attach a hand pump and suck the air out of the jar.

The hand pump looks like a fat fountain pen, and after three or four pumps in can be disconnected. You are then left with two huge, engorged nipples under glass. When you are ready to torture the fattened nipples you open the valve and release the suction so the jars can be removed.

"Perfect," exclaimed Karen as I began the procedure.

Chapter 18 -Vickie

I was very proud of the way I had handled booking the cruise and interviewing the stewardess. It was important to me that Sam respect my abilities and not just keep me around for sex. He didn't know it yet, but I can be feisty and assertive when I have to. I expect that when I get like that he will enjoy putting me in my place, and the thought gives me goose bumps.

When Sam had me follow him back to his office to meet with Karen I suspected that I would be in for another session. The fire in Karen's eyes confirmed my fears. Without hardly saying hello she started to chastise me about the incident with Ginger. Her comment about getting used to having sex with other women sent shivers down my spine.

"Do as Karen says" Sam had said, and I had glared at him for turning me over to that bitch. After she told me I would have to remove clothes every time I met with them I couldn't believe it. I might as well sew Velcro on my garments to make it easy to rip them off. As it was it took me a full minute to get down to my new underware.

I glanced over at Sam and could see his erection stretching his pants. He was enjoying Karen's examination of my body. Then in spite of my pleading, they harnessed me to the clothes tree. I tried to struggle but to no avail since they bound me so tightly. My tits were positioned for whatever they wanted to do to them, but binding them with rope was something I never expected.

The rough hemp was like thousands of little pins pricking every square inch of my skin. Karen deliberately drew the rough end of the rope over my nipples at every opportunity. Finally they finished and stood back to admire their work. I looked down at my compressed tits and couldn't believe how huge they were; I just hoped there would be no permanent damage.

Then the bitch Karen wanted Sam to apply suction to make my nipples even bigger. I watched Sam attach the pen-pump to one jar and then place the jar over my left nipple. He held it against my breast while he drew the plunger and sucked out the first gulp of air. Instantly the jar stuck to my tit. It was then easy for him to use both hands to hold the pump and work the plunger.

When my left nipple was sucked to almost fill the jar, he moved his torture device onto my right bud and repeated the procedure. Both nipples were then encased under glass. Not satisfied with their size, Sam moved the pump from one to the other and sucked out more air.

"Please Sam... no more....", I begged him. My poor nipples were fat and long and terribly distorted. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I writhed and squirmed against the unyielding tree. I was crying more from the humiliation than from any real pain, and all the while I was aware of a growing sexual excitement.

Karen smiled at my predicament. "Keep going, Sam. I want nice big targets for my ruler."

"NOO.... PLEASE STOP..." I screamed. The thought of that ruler snapping against my sensitized flesh was too much. I knew it would hurt, but not how much. In the meantime moisture was oozing out of my pussy onto my thigh.

"Okay. Let's see how big and tasty they are now," said Sam. He released the suction and removed the jars. It felt like my tits were going to burst.

"Perfect--at least an inch long and throbbing for attention," he said as he lowered his head and took one succulent bud after another into his mouth. Using his lips, teeth, and tongue he tormented and persecuted my tender nips, drawing them out to even greater length. Karen watched, smacking her hand with the ruler, eager to get at me.

Sam finally raised his head. "Okay, Karen. She's all yours. Teach her not to disobey in the future."

"My pleasure," gloated Karen. She swung the ruler so that the flat part smacked up against the side of the tender cylinder that was my enlarged nipple. A stinging paid shot through my chest. I gasped and screamed.

"I'm sorry.... I will never disobey again.... I am yours to use.... please no more..."

But Karen just laughed and hit the other nipple. Then she drew the flexible plastic back like a bow and let it smack on the my pointy tips. Her eyes were flaring like she was in some kind of trance. Again and again she punished my poor tits, until finally Sam grabbed her wrist and restrained her.

"Easy Karen. I think that's enough for now." 

"Please Sam, let me do her some more," pleaded Karen. "She's loving it. Put your hand on her pussy and you will find a dripping wet slut."

I was mortified. Sam slid his palm down my bare stomach and into my panties. I knew it was going to be like putting his hand into wet grass. My helplessness and humiliation had turned me on to the point where I was gushing.

"So true," laughed Sam as he felt me. I was ready to cum, but he took his hand away and put it up to my mouth.

"Lick me clean you hot bitch," he commanded. "Then I'm going to put some clamps on those naughty nipples of yours. I want to keep them long and tender while Karen shows you how to please a woman. You may need to know this technique on our weekend boat trip."

"NOO. NOOO... You can't.. My nipples cannot take anymore...", I pleaded as I continued to lick his fingers.

Sam drew his hand back and slapped me across the face. "Don't you EVER tell me what I can and cannot do! Karen, bring the clamps."

All I could do was hang my head and await my fate. Karen worked the claws of the clamps on me with great relish. I shut my eyes and bore the momentary pain. The clamps were connected with a small chain, which Karen tugged several times to make sure the jaws were secure. But with the size of my nipples there was plenty of contact with the rough surface of the clamps and no chance of them coming off.

I twisted and moaned and waited for what was coming next. 

Chapter 19 – Sam

I was hard as a rock watching Karen torture Vickie's nipples by pulling on the chain. The fact that Karen was right about Vickie being wet made me stop worrying about Karen being too rough. Also, I did not like Vickie saying I couldn't do something. She had to be taught a lesson.

Karen put one hand on the bulge in my pants as she continued to jerk the chain. "Sam my dear, you have no idea how much punishment a woman's breasts can take when she is turned on. I've barely begun with this bitch."

I just smiled. God, her hand felt good on my cock. Her comments and touching were letting me know how much she wanted her tits to be abused just like she was doing to Vickie.

"Now Vickie," Karen continued, "you are going to tell me how you are going to behave in the future." She pulled the chain to the left, exposing the swollen side of one of Karen's breasts to the stinging swats of the ruler.

SLAP

"OHHH... I am going to be good... whatever you want...."

SLAP "What are you going to do about Ginger?"

"What do you mean?"

SLAP SLAP "You offended her by resisting her advances. She is a friend of mine... a good friend."

"AWWW... I am going to apologize... I am going to tell her she can touch me if she wants."

"Not good enough."

"OK, OK.... I will invite her out to lunch and tell her I want her to touch me."

SLAP "Better, but more detail. How is she going to be able to touch you in a restaurant?"

"All right... all right... please don't hit me there again... I will invite her to lunch at my house, and I will wear something sexy and make myself totally available to her."

My cock was now drooling on my slacks. I pushed it up against Karen's leg. She gave me a kiss and caressed my bulge with the ruler. "Haves patience Sir. You will get to use this big thing soon enough."

Karen returned her attention to the writhing Vickie. The chain was pulled the other way, presenting a fresh target for the wicked ruler.

WHAPP WHAPP "You be sure to do that with Ginger. She will teach you a few things. But now you are here with us. What are you going to do for me and Sam?"

"OHH.. anything.... anything you want... please...."

"Stop whining. You love it and you know it. Now what do you think we want?"

"I don't know.... just tell me and I'll do it...."

SLAPPPP "Use your imagination. What are you going to do?"

"OOOHHH.. I will.... I will lick your pussy and suck Sam's cock,"

That sounded good to me, but Karen wasn't satisfied. "What else are you going to lick?"

She hesitated, and Karen drew back the ruler. "OK.. ok... I will lick your tits and your ass.."

"And what about Sam's ass?"

Vickie shuddered in her bindings and seemed to cross a threshold into a realm of total abandoned. Karen's words and punishment had broken her. She sobbed and let go. 

"Yes.... YESSS... I will stick my tongue up into his ass... and I will lick his balls... and he can fuck me anywhere he wants." 

Karen smiled. "Good girl. Now I think you deserve a little reward. I am going to make you feel things you have never felt before."

I had an idea of what was coming. My custom clothes tree had a special feature that I had used several times to pleasure Karen. There were two narrow wooden planks concealed in the trunk on heavy duty hinges. When these boards were raised perpendicular to the trunk, they formed a 'V' with the apex at the trunk and the legs sticking out some thirty inches. The 'V" was located at about waist height and formed a kind of seat. A person tied to the tree could have their legs raised and secured to the boards, leaving them spread open. Their tormentor could sit on a stool inside the 'V' and have complete access to the most sensitive areas of their body.

"It's time to sit her in the tree," said Karen. "But first we have to get rid of the garter belt and panties."

The two of us undid various snaps and soon had Vickie naked except for her stockings and high heels. She made a valiant effort to keep her legs together, but Karen pinched her thighs and made her squirm so we could see how swollen and wet she was. 

"Hold her ankles while I raise the platform," I instructed. The planks came up and locked into place, with Vickie standing between them. Karen wrapped her hands around one of Vickie's ankles and lifted her leg until her thigh was resting on the plank. I did the same on the other side, and then, putting a hand under her ass I raised her until she was sitting at on the point of the 'V'. A couple of straps around her legs and the planks, and she was secured in place, wide open for whatever we wanted to do.

"Now let's get a couple of low stools." Karen's voice was tinged with excitement. I knew how much she enjoyed the first time with another woman.

I brought the stools, but felt I was being too passive. My cock was about to burst and demanded that I participate. I wrapped my arms around Karen and grabbed her hair so I could pull her head back and kiss her. Her mouth opened immediately, sucking at my tongue.

"You are such a wicked personnel manager," I stammered when I got my mouth free. "What are you going to do to my new assistant?"

"I am going to tease her pussy and ass with my hands and mouth, and I am going to use a couple of my newest toys on her. We'd better hope everyone else has gone home, because she is going to be screaming out multiple orgasms."

"What about me?" I asked in a tone that told Karen I was still the boss.

She looked at me sheepishly, realizing that she was not going to be allowed to play with Vickie and ignore my growing lust. "Yes Sir. If you will sit on the stool next to me we can do this together. And it would be better if you took off your pants first. They seem to have a big wet spot."

"Okay, but you get out of your clothes too. You are definitely overdressed for this exercise."

We smiled at each other as we stripped. As always, I was overwhelmed by the sight of Karen's fabulous body. But as I tried to grab her tits she pushed me away playfully and pointed to the stool. Vickie meanwhile was twisting and squirming to try to escape from her vulnerable confinement. However, the look in her eyes said that she really didn't want to. Her bound tits swayed back and forth, jingling the chain.

Karen sat on her stool and maneuvered into position with her nose just above Vickie's pussy. I could see her long fingernails working their way up the insides of Vickie's thighs.

"She smells so ripe," said Karen. "I think I'll just put a finger here.... and there .... and here."




The Personal Assistant



He caught my eye as soon as he entered the classroom. Most of the other students were women and seemed to be comfortable with each other and their dogs. It was a night-class dog grooming class. He—his name turned out to be Cal—stuck out like a sore thumb. For one thing he was somewhat of a bruiser. He was good looking enough—in fact very good looking in a bodybuilder, square jaw, dark looks way. But he was tattooed like a biker and had that rough look about him in other ways. For another he brought a large, black poodle with him, and he handled the dog like it wasn't his and like he didn't have the foggiest idea why the poodle had come in with him.

I never got a last name for him because he wasn't even registered for the class.

"Look under Jim Causey," he said when I approached him with a clipboard. I trembled a bit as I approached, because he both intimidated and aroused me. This was just the sort of man I sought out when I was between boyfriends. I was always on the lookout for a longer-termed relationship in a boyfriend, but when I was between these relationships, none of which had worked out for me, I found myself seeking out one-night stands with a bigger man. At those times I wanted a man who would manhandle me and leave me panting and moaning and unable to close my legs. I wanted to know I'd been totally fucked.

"Yes, I have a Jim Causey," I said. "Is that also you?"

He gave me a look that started mean, like he didn't like to be challenged, but then softened when it seemed like he actually looked at me for the first time. "No, that's Jim Causey rolling in now. I'm just Cal, his personal attendant."

"His personal attendant?" I asked, as I now saw that, indeed, a middle-aged man in a wheelchair had rolled into the classroom and moved over to the side.

"Yeah, I do pretty much everything for Mr. Causey. He's got the money to continue to live alone. And it looks like I'm going to be doing Sid for him too, just like I do him."

I took a quick look at the man in the wheelchair. He was trim despite apparently have no use of his legs. When Cal's look had softened when he gave me the once over I was sure I recognized that look. I'd gotten it often enough—the look of sexual interest. So, was he telling me that Causey was his sugar daddy? That Causey paid Cal's way and Cal took care of Causey in all ways—and of this Sid too, whoever he was?

"Sid?" I asked.

"The pooch," Cal said. "This fancy dog, whatever kind it is. This is Sid."

The poodle was crouched by Cal, looking as scared of Cal as I thought Cal had been of the dog when they came in.

"Have you handled dogs before?" I asked.

"I thought I'd handled just about everything," Cal said, giving me a searching look again—a look of checking out possibilities?—"but I ain't ever done a dog before."

The first thing that came to mind was, well, that's good. You could go to jail for doing a dog. I nearly laughed at that, but then it struck me that Cal presented just like the inmates had in the special class I'd taught at a prison, a vocational class in giving inmates skills they could use on the outside. A slightly touchy demeanor with more than a touch of challenge and bad ass to it.

"You sure you want to do this, then?"

"You teachin' the class?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Then I want to do this." I took that as confirmation of his interest—but maybe more in me than the class. I wondered if his sugar daddy knew he was on the make with other men. It sort of gave me a jolt, though, that it might be me. He was just the kind of bruiser I was in the mood for—in a temporary, one-night way. Or one afternoon. Or just a half hour on top of the table here after the rest of the class had left.

Cal surprised me in the class. He had an intimidating demeanor and big hands, but his hands weren't clumsy, and over the two-hour class both he and Sid became comfortable with each other. Sid seemed apprehensive about the whole situation, but the dog was thoroughly cowed by Cal, and when Cal put his hands on the dog and moved it into this position or that as the grooming required, the dog obeyed. It would be skittish right up until Cal put his hands on it and then it would settle down, trembling slightly.

I trembled slightly myself at seeing Cal do that, and I'll readily admit that I thought of the big bruiser of a tattooed man doing that to me as well. He was prime one-night-stand material.

Jim Causey didn't just sit back and watch during the session. He was right up there with Cal, watching his every move and giving him encouragement and talking to the dog. The two men obviously had a relationship going, one that I envied.

"You got dogs too?" Cal asked me near the end of the class.

"Yes," I answered. "I have a few Maltese. I show those. I have a poodle bitch too. Smaller than Sid. I don't show her, but I breed her. She's good stock."

"Seems strange to have those two kinds, even if both are of the limp-wristed variety," he said. "Aren't Maltese a yappy little dog. And poodles—"

"Maltese can be a bit yappy, yes, but poodles are smart dogs which started out as hunting dogs," I answered, resisting noting that he himself had come in with a poodle. "The poodle was left behind after a relationship that went bad. I didn't mind. I liked the dog much more than I liked him." I nearly froze when the "him" came out. I was revealing more than I had intended to.

I looked up to see a slight smirk on Cal's face. "I knew I was right," he said in a low voice.

I just blushed. There didn't seem to be anything to say to either try to cover up or expand on the slip about having had a relationship with a male.

"Know a good place to exercise them on Saturday mornings?" he asked, smoothly switching gears. "I don't like the thought of Sid being cooped up all the time. He's a big dog; he needs to be able to run regularly. All big animals need to be able to run free."

I felt a bit of a chill going up my back, my first thought being of a hunk like him running free—running naked. I tried to concentrate on the canine aspect of what he'd said. I was surprised that he showed such concern for the dog and, before thinking better of it, said so.

"No one—man nor animal—should be cooped up," he repeated, with an edge of vehemence. "It just ain't right."

This only made me think again about that class I taught at the prison.

"I take my dogs to West Side Park occasionally on Saturday mornings," I answered. "They have an off-the-leash area at that time."

"You'll be there next Saturday?"

"I suppose I might."

"And bring the poodle bitch."

One of the other students broke in to ask a question before I could answer or ask about that, and when I finished talking to her, Cal was wheeling Jim Causey out of the room, with Sid trotting beside him, both Cal and the dog seeming much less skittish than when they'd come into the classroom.

I went home humming. I don't know whether it was because I considered any class where a master and dog had melded as well as Cal and Sid had a victory or it was because Cal was my ideal image of a one-night stand and had shown interest to me.

I didn't, of course, have any intention of going to the park with Starbright, the zany name my spaced-out, once-significant other had tagged the poodle bitch with, but almost like a zombie, I loaded her up and drove out to the park on Saturday morning.

Cal and Sid were there, in West Park, Sid already off the leash and running around the dog run area, when we got there. We were the only ones who showed up.

The day was hot, the sun beating down on us, and I found Cal sitting on a blanket under some trees at the verge of the meadow Sid was cavorting in. He was wearing shorts and sandals. He'd taken off his T-shirt. My impression that he was a bodybuilder was borne out by his muscular and cut torso. The tattooing I had seen running up his arms continued on the chest and back and down onto his legs in a riot of color.

"Let her off the leash and sit down here with me," he said when I arrived.

It no longer was the teacher, me, giving instruction to him. He was in command. I fell right in with this change. It was, after all, what I had dreamed of in the four days since the class, while all along I was telling myself I wouldn't show up on Saturday—that he had my telephone number through the school and could pursue me a bit if he really was interested.

But I wasn't kidding myself. I knew all along that if he wanted me, he could have me, and that I melted to a man who took control. This, I was only beginning to realize, was the problem with the long-term boyfriends I had tried. They related to me as equals and all were attentive to my needs. That was all well and fine, but it paled against my arousal to a man who just took me because he wanted me—and who had the cock to keep me pinned down.

I let Starbright off the leash, and she took off into the meadow and was tearing around with Sid in no time at all.

I sat down beside Cal, and he leaned in close to me. We spoke for a few minutes about I knew not what—something to do with the class and pointers he wanted to understand better. It was just nervous small talk—on my part at least. I kept looking around for other dogs and owners to show up, but none did. Cal didn't seem nearly as nervous as I was. He just crept closer until he had an arm around me.

I couldn't even have told where the transition was in his putting his hands on me—in a possessive way—pulling my T-shirt over my head, and turning my mouth to his for a controlling kiss that took my breath away. I was trembling at the strong grip of his hand on my waist and then inner thigh, and then cock. He was stroking me hard and still possessing me with a kiss, and I was breathing hard. It was all him, controlling me. Just as I wanted in a one-night stand.

When we pulled out of the kiss, with me already pulled over into his lap and able to feel the insistent hardness of him, I looked out into the meadow.

Starbright was standing perfectly still and Sid had mounted her and was breeding her.

"Look, Cal, we've got to stop that!" I cried, struggling to get up. But Cal was holding me fast in his lap.

"Let them have their fun. She obviously wants it," Cal answered. "All creatures should be free to do what makes them happy. Just like you and I are gonna do. You see that. See how big and pink that stud's cock is? I'm gonna do you just like Sid is doin' that bitch of yours."

I didn't deny that he was. I just moaned.

He pushed me forward on all fours then, pulled my shorts down low on my thighs, had his cock out and crowned, and mounted and slid into me. I moaned and groaned as he became fully saddled. He held there, not moving, but deeply sheathed, until I started panting hard and begging him to fuck me. Then he laughed and set the cock in motion, fucking me hard and deep as we watched Sid breeding Starbright.

I breathed hard but held steady, just as Starbright did, knowing full well that this was exactly what I wanted, a hard-bodied man who knew who he was and what he wanted, moving a long, thick cock inside me. Taking me roughly, naturally, fully, in total control.

* * * *

I was panting hard, lying on my back at the edge of my bed, with Cal between my thighs, holding my legs up and out, his pelvis making rapid undulations as he fucked me. I had already come, spouting up onto my belly, and he was working on it. He was looking intensely down into my face, but I was watching the play of his tattoos with the expanding and contracting of the muscles of his chest during his exertions. He was deep inside me, throbbing and pistoning me. I contracted the muscles of my channel in his cock, arched my back, and cried out "Now, now, now!"

I could feel him jerk and come, filling out the bulb of the condom. He pulled out of me immediately and turned and sat on the bed next to me. My own legs reached for the floor at the foot of the bed. He looked down at me and gave me a smirk.

"That was good. I like what you did there—to make me come." He bent down, messed around in the pockets of the trousers he'd dropped on the floor below the bed, and came up with a pack of cigarettes and some matches. He lit up, sitting there, legs spread and elbows on knees, and inhaled and exhaled a couple of times. My instinct was to make a comment about the cancer he was exhaling into the air in my place with that smoke, but I didn't say anything. It all went with the package that made me melt to him.

He'd left me there on the ground Saturday morning, just two days earlier, zipping up his shorts and padding out onto the field to retrieve Sid, who had also finished breeding Starbright. Hadn't said a thing. He'd taken hold of me and fucked me as naturally as Sid had mounted Starbright—just like it was the most natural thing to do. No emotional entanglements at all. Knowing that I wanted him and would just hold steady on all fours while he breeded me too.

I sat up half dazed, but well fucked, and watched him go to the parking lot, get into a black Escalade that had been parked there when I drove in in my Camarro, and peel out of the park. I thought that would be the last I'd see of him, him fulfilling my idea of a tough-guy one-night stand.

The first thing I'd done when I got home was to go online trying to find the pedigree of his poodle. It hadn't been that zany that I'd let him fuck me in the park. I had practically rolled over and begged for it back in class. What had been zany was letting his dog fuck mine. I bred her for the money her pedigree pups brought in. I found, though, that the lines for Jim Causey's poodle were as good as Starbright's own, so I wasn't fucked there, if the breeding had taken. I'd saved a stud fee.

I thought briefly that I should have paid Cal a stud fee because he had taken care of me so well. I almost regretted that he was one-night-stand material.

But then I'd answered a ring at the door of my house on Tuesday afternoon, and there he was.

"Been thinkin' of you since Saturday," he said.

I looked past him to the driveway. He was driving a beat-up old Dodge Ram today. I decided the Escalade must have been Jim Causey's car.

"I didn't expect to see you again," I said.

"I didn't expect it either," he replied.

"So," I said.

"So, do you want me to fuck you here in the doorway, or do you have a bed?"

When he put it that way, how could I refuse? We kissed and groped each other in my bedroom, at the foot of my bed. The dogs had watched us with curiosity as he followed me through the house to the bedroom, but I shut them out. They were used to watching my boyfriends fuck me, but that had never been rough play. I expected this to be rough, and I didn't want any of them to get the wrong idea and to take a chunk out of Cal's buttocks when I was screaming and squirming under him.

He had pushed me down hard on the foot of the bed with a shove of the heel of his hand to my sternum, and I'd watched him strip his clothes off. I was just wearing shorts, and he had no trouble jerking them and my briefs off my legs. He was more than half hard. And, with him, half hard was breathtakingly enough.

With no discussion or preliminaries of any type, he came up on the bed, straddled my chest; grabbed my wrists with his fists, forcing my arms above my head and wide; and arched his chest over my head, pressing the bulb of his cock at my lips. I opened my mouth to him, and he face fucked me, making me gag and groan while he stroked and filled out.

Again, without saying anything, he moved right into crouching between my thighs, with one hand on my throat, holding me to the bed, and the fingers of the other one opening my channel up with the help of spit. My legs were running up his chest. I was gasping for breath, my eyes bugging out, and staring into his face. He let loose of my throat and pulled his fingers out of my hole, grabbed my ankles, raised and jerked my legs painfully spread wide, and went right to fucking me. I had no idea when he'd rolled the condom on.

He fucked me hard, forcing himself right inside me and pistoning hard and deep. He pumped my legs back and forth, in to his hips and then brutally wide out as he punched his cock up into me, to the rhythm of his stroke. I jerked and grunted, my torso coming off the surface of the bed with each thrust, and I wondered if I'd be able to walk the next day. But I didn't care. I was vocal enough that the dogs were barking and scratching at the bedroom door. I was glad I'd closed them out.

"Do you always fuck this way?" I asked him after he was done and was sitting on the edge of the bed, smoking a cigarette, as I lay behind him, my arm around his waist, my hand encasing the root of his cock.

"You learn to be quick about it in prison. It goes on all over the place, but mostly on the sly."

I nearly gasped. I wasn't surprised, but I wasn't prepared to have been right.

He turned toward me and leaned over, his eyes searching my face for my reaction to that revelation. I reached up with a hand and traced the tattooing on his chest.

"Is that where you got the tattoos too?"

"You have plenty of time to collect those in prison," he answered.

"How long have you been out?"

"Two months. I was in more for who I was associated with than for what I did."

"And Jim Causey waited for you?"

"Just hooked up with him. He's my work release arrangement. I'm his personal attendant. Like I told you."

"I thought he was your sugar daddy or something. That personal attendant was something very personally applied."

"I don't fuck him, if that's what you mean. I jack him off when he needs it and let him blow me when he wants."

Somehow I didn't see the difference. Causey kept him for sex.

"Look. He was the work release situation I was assigned to for my probation."

"And you take care of all of his personal needs, plus you groom his poodle for him."

"The grooming was part of the deal. I have to do community service for six months, while I'm on probation. Causey hooked me up with a no-kill dog rescue center. I can do my community service by grooming dogs there. He said it would be one of the easier ways to do community service and it seems right to me. I'd rather deal with pooches than with people. I haven't been very good in dealing with people."

"But Causey would like you to stay on with him after the six months, I'll bet, and I'll also bet that you're willing to do that."

"Listen, I came here to fuck, not to play twenty questions. You tired of doin' that? I have other places I could be."

"You know I'm not tired of it—well, I am; you've worn me out. But that doesn't mean I want it to stop. But you don't have to leave at all. I can offer you the same deal as Causey is doing for this six months. I can hook you up with dog grooming credits for community service. You can be my personal attendant."

"I can attend you right now," he growled. "Pull up onto the bed on your belly."

I did so as he put his cigarette out in an ashtray on the nightstand and rolled on another condom.

Once more he showed me both that he didn't much care for conversation and that I was weak enough to take his fucking anyway I could get it, as he straddled my buttocks, slid back into me, and, leaning his chest over my back with his weight on the heels of hands placed on either side of my shoulders, began to pump me hard and deep again.

After he'd ejaculated again, I was still so half blotto from the hard fucking he'd given me that I just laid there and watched him light up the cigarette again and then, when he'd finished it, pull on his shorts and sandals and move over to and open the bedroom door. My dogs rushed right past him to ensure I was OK, and by the time I got them off me, he was gone.

And he was gone for six months. He not only had doubled the one-night stands I had with big, dominating bruisers like him, but he also had taken a chunk of my heart. Maybe one night was all I could afford with someone like him. Perhaps I grew too attached to and needy for men who could give me what Cal did. Anyway I moped for a couple of months, tried to forget about him for a couple of months, and slowly was on the way to do so for a couple of months.




The Personal Assistant



I'd followed him from job to job as he moved within the design industry. We had met a few years ago at W. G, Simmonds, a medium sized interiors firm in New York City and he was just getting started as a designer/salesman for contract interiors. I thought he was a bit pompous and too flamboyant, less than likely to succeed, but our boss had placed him between the two heavy hitters in our company which was an indication of faith in his abilities. 

We met at the office cooler soon enough and chatted about the city and things we enjoyed doing. He was very tall and good looking in an aristocratic sort of way and that annoyed me. It annoyed me that he didn't fit my description of the kind of man I thought I liked and yet I found him attractive and was intrigued by him. I tried to throw my sex in his face to get a reaction and yet he was entirely aloof and that made me mad. Every time I said anything remotely sexual he would talk about his wife and about how much he was enjoying married life...the dick. 

Still, he was pretty smart and perhaps the only person in the office who could keep up with me and I found him highly intriguing. Within a couple of months I found he was always looking over my work, popping into my space and making an observation here and there and my work definitely improved. He was a natural and had an eye for design and a way of thinking that no one else in the company seemed to have, and when he decided to leave and move on to another company, he took all his clients and me along for the ride. 

I'd often looked in the mirror and questioned my own refection. Everything about me was plain...nothing particularly special. As a matter of fact I only saw flaws. Five foot six so not tall enough, skinny as hell and with a small bust, a little bit of a mustache which I bleached weekly, dark roots in my blonde colored hair. I was pretty fit and I knew how to dress, and now that I sat opposite him I could dress to torture him and try to get a reaction. For this reason, I never wore underwear and would face in his direction and constantly cross and re-cross my legs. He would just roll his eyes and look elsewhere, but I caught him looking many times while he was on the phone. 

His wife came to visit one day and I knew I would hate her before we'd even met. Then, there she was...tall, slender with a huge upright bust, creamy girl next door complexion, and English. Not only English, but from Oxford and seemingly a royal. Damn...she was everything I was not, educated to a Ph.D., patrician, equestrian, cultured in a way that intimidated any American, and with a voice so charming that few could focus on her words, the music of her speech leaving you stunned and feeling insignificant. Trouble was, as much as I wanted to hate her, I couldn't. She was Mary fuckin' Poppins and had the situation not been what it was, I'd of been in love with that woman, she was so delightful. Delightful...doubt anyone would ever describe me that way. 

Christian and I were now part of a team and we worked together long hours, he in the field and me in the office. This day though, he said he would be taking me to meet clients and introducing me around town. I dressed to the nines and wore my highest heels and a short flowy dress, unbuttoned a sufficient number of buttons and wore my most effective push-up bra. We met at the drawing table and laid out some floor plans so he could point out the things which needed to be discussed in front of the people at Chanel. I bent low over the drawings and looked up enough times to notice he was constantly looking in my blouse. Hmmm...the unbuttoned top was catching his eye...good. 

"Felicity?" 

"Yes Christian." 

"Do you think you could button your blouse a bit? You'll be somewhat of a distraction at the client's office lookin the way you do." 

Okay...he was looking, but not lusting. Damn it. He was seeing me as a liability. He'd have to pay for that. 

We went about our rounds and it was hot this July day. I was barely okay with it but Chris was suit and tie and I knew he was suffering the heat. Forget taking the subway anywhere. It would kill us, so we cabbed from place to place and he had removed his jacket and folded it in his lap in the taxis, the AC in each car hardly enough to make life breathable. His shirt was getting drenched. 

I'd been working with him for quite some time now but had never seen him in the field and was blown away by the manner in which he was received by the clients. He wasn't a salesman at Chanel, he was their consultant. Even the architect and designers...people of high repute, deferred to him and sought his opinions and advice. He turned to me several times and asked that I explain fine points and details of "our work" and I was stunned at how he had elevated me from an assistant to a professional in front of some of the most important people in the NY fashion world. I'd never felt valued before and now, here I was, handing out my business card to the likes of Ralph Lauren, Karl Lagerfeld, and Giorgio Armani. My God...I was somebody! 

I loved him for that. Before becoming his assistant I was an office hack, now I was a design consultant and had been introduced as Chris' stand-in should he be away or otherwise occupied. Would I be able to serve and please his clients in his absence? He was putting a lot of faith in me and that felt terrific. 

We spent the entire day in the field and our last stop was an installation. We walked the floor, filled with electricians, tin knockers, HVAC, and painters taping and spackling walls. It was brutally hot and I could see that Chris was flagging. "Come on...let's go," I said. 

We stepped into the street and down the block was one of those shirt stores that advertised 5 shirts for $100.00. We stepped in and I bought him a blue cotton dress shirt. 

"God Felicity, do I look that bad?" 

"Honey, you could wring out a cup of sweat from what you are wearing. Come on, let's get you fixed up." 

We taxied to my apartment, a block from the office, and I told him to take a shower and stay in cool water for a bit. He smiled and the gratitude was written clearly across his face. With him in the bathroom I ran around quickly and tidied up my space, collecting undies and bras strewn about. Then I stopped and decided to leave some of my lingerie lying about. Why should I go out of my way to cover up who I am...my style. 

He came out of the shower wrapped in a towel around his waist and I blanched. Shit...never considered he'd have a good body beneath the suit and tie. Damn, he's hot. Men with minds often distract a gal's attention to what may reside beneath the wrapping and I couldn't take my eyes off him. Let's see...broad shoulders, magnificent arms, nearly hairless chest, abs, and a belly button that was long and deep, drawing my attention to the shadows within. Oh my God...look at the trace of hair leading down to the towel. Shit...the fuck has me losin' it. Damn. 

He walked around the living room, smiling that I'd hung his suit on a hanger, then started looking at the book titles on the shelves. "Hey Felicity, we read some of the same stuff," He said as he looked about. As I came out of my dream state I noticed his back for the first time concentrating on skin instead of structure. 

"Shit Chris, you're back is completely blotched. Hang on, I've got something for that." 

I returned with an anti-fungal crème from the medicine chest. 

"Here, hold still a sec." 

I applied the salve and swept my fingers over the raised red pattern. He had definitely suffered from the heat, poor guy. Suits and ties in this heat, sheesh. 

God...I'm touching his skin. I'm rubbing this into his skin! I came closer and could smell the sweet fragrance of my shampoo as I closed in on his neck, placing my left hand on his upper arm to hold him steady. He stood still and seemed unaffected but I was beside myself. He was standing before me wearing just a towel and I was holding him and touching him. Shit! 

"Shall we go to Merchants next door and have a bite? My treat," he said. 

"Sure thing. That would be nice." Damn. Don't want to leave quite yet. I don't want to leave at all. 

"Are you sure you want to go out to eat. I could make a meal of you right here on the bed." Oh my God. Did I really just say that? 

He turned around and smiled, saying nothing, totally unaffected. Fuck...did I just say that? 

He dressed and put on the new shirt I'd bought him, foregoing the undershirt which was still soaked in his sweat. I watched him dress and as he threaded his way into the new shirt saw the muscles all about stretch and flex their way into the arms. I stood before him and started to do up his buttons and he smiled and sighed ever so slightly while I did this. I was crossing a line and we were both aware of it. But he had set up barriers and wasn't about to cross them...not yet anyway. I suddenly reflected on the fact that this was the first time I had him in my apartment, alone. I'd had him in my shower and walking around in a towel. Barriers be damned; we'd already crossed so many. This was a great day for me, professionally and socially with my boss.  

We had a couple of drinks and some basic stuff. He ordered a Cobb salad and I ordered chicken wings. I really didn't want them but they gave me the chance to place the drum sticks to my lips and give my food a real blow job just inches from his own face. He watched me eating and smiled, both of us recognizing what I was doing and enjoying the desired effect. As I reached out with my tongue to tickle the end of a particularly large drum stick, he said, "Stop it Felicity...you're killing me." 

"What? Did I do something wrong?" 

"No, I guess not, but you are being very playful and sexy and you're giving me a boner." 

I put down the bone and looked at him, coming even closer and making a hollow fist in front of my mouth, moving it back and forth in front of me while pushing my tongue within my cheek to make a bump rise and fall within. 

"Oh shit." He said, as he watched me give a virtual blow job. 

We were on to our third cocktail and I sat back, just staring at him. I had watched his mouth the entire time we ate. Salad didn't replicate anything sexual but when he ate the last of my wings I sat forward and watched his lips. Oh God he's hot, I thought. I watched him and his lovely mouth, replacing the wing with my vag, dreaming I was spread wide and enjoying his lips and the teasing of his tongue. He didn't flinch. He wasn't even trying to be playful, the bastard. He was just eating my wings and doing it without any attempt at sexuality. It was all going on in my mind. I was the one dreaming of having his face between my legs, grabbing his hair and pulling him into me...mashing that beautiful face into me as I came on his lips. 

I was suddenly aware that I had my hand inside my own blouse and was pinching my nipple pretty hard. 

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked. 

I sat up for a sec and reached behind me under my shirt and unsnapped my bra, then pulled it off beneath my top and out through one of the sleeves. 

"You are a nut Felicity." He laughed. You learn that from Flashdance? Are you Jennifer Beals now?" 

"I wish. She's hot. I'd fuck her." I answered. 

He laughed. 

"You are crazy, woman. You are the wittiest girl I know and I fight hard to keep up but you are also sexy as all hell and coming at me like a freight train this evening. So you would fuck Jennifer Beals huh? How?" 

I looked at him while I reached down and pushed my brassiere in my hand bag. 

"Maybe I've got a dick. You ever think of that Chris? Let's finish our drinks and go back to my place and you can check for yourself." 

He didn't even respond...just smiled. It was funny and I thougth about the fact that although I wasn't getting anywhere with him, I could absolutely tell that he was enjoying me and his eyes also told me that he found me very attractive. Somehow that meant the world to me. Whether we wound up in my bed or not, it was so rewarding to know I had his undivided attention and admiration. God I loved this guy. 

"And if you have a dick, what would you expect me to do with it?" He asked. 

I leaned in right up to his face and whispered..."Oh, I'd expect you to suck on it and let me cream between your lips, just as I'd suck on your cock and lap up the cum like your fuckin' dog." She lifted her hand to her face and repeated the blow job motion and cheek bump in a rhythm which had given him an erection just moments before. 

He smiled and watched my lips as I made the motions. 

"Oh God...I'd love to cum in your mouth...your sexy mouth. You've got a lot of sass, you know that. Gonna get me in trouble one day." 

"Oh please don't make me wait. Come on, let's go back to my apartment. You don't have to do anything. Just stand in front of me while I suck your cock and then jerk yourself off onto my tongue. I won't miss one juicy squirt. I promise. You don't have to do anything to me so your wife won't mind. Although I'd love to send you home smelling of my pussy...dripping with my juices. Astra would love that." 

We both laughed long and hard. 

"Gotta pee...I'll be right back." 

She rose and stumbled a little. We were smashed, and made her way to the lavatory. I watched her ass as she swayed her way in the distance. Jeez, what an assistant!! I had to watch myself here. She wants to be my boy toy and I'm likely to fall into her web in the first moment of indiscretion. The instant she was gone I reached into her bag and withdrew her bra and put it in my briefcase. Hmmm...now I have a trophy. Time to go home. 

I walked her to her place and she invited me up for oral sex and I declined. But she was surprised when I reached over and hugged her tight. She swept her hands over my back and buried her face in my collar and I grabbed the back of her head and scrunched her hair in a tight fist. We pulled apart and I looked in her eyes. 

"You are a dream Felicity. You are one fuckin' hot fantasy of a woman. Good night sweetie." 

I left her standing at her door watching me hail a cab for my ride home. Smiling still, we waved at one another as I pulled away. Damn that was hot. 

My God how he held my head when we parted. He held me the way he would hold me if he was fucking my face...fucking my mouth. Oh God I want him to do that!! I want him up my ass. I want him to pummel me into submission. I want him to spray me all over my face. Holy shit. I've never been this horny. I've got to get upstairs or I'll wind up fucking the first stranger who walks by. Damn. 

I was in early the next morning. Was always the first person in the office; an office of about 50. I went to my cube and withdrew Felicity's bra and pinned it to my tack board...my trophy. Everything being a bland beige in our space, her frilly light blue brassiere stood out. I was alone and leaned in and took a sniff. Nice. She is very girlie. She is an absolute role model for the independent, bright and accomplished hot fucking tease bitch. God it's going to be tough working around her today. I must ignore her completely as if last night never happened. I can't believe I showered at her place. Can't ever do that again or she will simply walk in and join me, no doubt about it. She's done teasing I think. 

The traffic started to pick up as other employees strolled in. Mail was delivered by our crazy receptionist who was another hot chick who never held back. I loved this office. I loved my industry. Lots of gorgeous women and gay guys and me! 

I heard the voice of the owner of the company, a handsome man ten years older than I with a stick up his ass...a conservative, power-hungry prick who abused the women in his office and liked to dominate the men. He hated me because he had zero control but backed away because I was putting a couple million a year in his pocket. I had forgotten that he was touring the CEO of a multibillion dollar supplier of ours around the office this morning. 

"And here is our most successful salesperson, Chris, who holds the best fashion accounts in the city." They arrived at my desk and stood over me, not looking at me, but at Felicity's bra dangling on my tack board. The conversation ended and they stood there staring at my trophy, mouths agape. Just then she came in and dumped her bag on her desk and sat in her Aeron chair, checking her messages. 

"What's this on your wall?" the CEO stammered. I looked up and saw smoke coming out of my boss' ears. 

"Oh...I was at Donna Karan's office last night and Donna asked me to match the fabric on this bra for her new seating in her intimates department." Phew...clever answer to his question, I thought with pride. I was always quick and sharp in the mornings. 

Just then, Felicity said "Excuse me" and pushed her way between the two men and pulled her bra off my wall, returned to her desk and stuffed it in a drawer. No comments, her focus back to her phone. 

"Ahem...yes indeed," the CEO said and walked on, the smell of smoke from my boss' ears left floating in the air. I looked over at her, completely casual and disinterested, acting as if her actions had not affected anybody. What a flake! Then she turned my way and winked, slowly crossed her legs my way giving me a great view of her vag and smiling. Shit! 

Tonight was the company party, celebrating 15 years in business. It was to be held at the Rainbow Room at the Top of the Rock in Rockefeller Center and I'd brought my tux. It was also the company Christmas party and most people had brought a change of clothes. As the day came to an end, Felicity invited me back to her place to change. This would be my first time in her place since the summer; since I'd stolen her bra. 

I couldn't believe he accepted my invitation to change at my place. He's kept his distance since our night at Merchants and although invited up several times, he always demurred. I was already strategizing in my mind the wild scenarios which would ensue. Nothing would happen until I got a couple of drinks in him I was sure, but if I could get him back at the end of the evening I would just tear him apart. He wasn't going home to Astra this night...not until four in the morning. I wasn't thinking in terms of breaking up his marriage. I just wanted a piece of his life; a little more than just the assistant shit. I wanted to be ravished by this man...spread wide and torn apart. I could think of little other than having him dig me a new asshole. I'd never been so hot for any man and the constant exposure to him was killing me. Every day we went to clients. Every week or two we were at a function. Last week he had spoken at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and I sat there stunned by this man...this boss of mine...who was admired and sought after by the most accomplished people in the city. Tonight's the night then. 

I excused myself to the bathroom and told him to change in the living room, closing the venetian blinds. After about a minute, I came out and ran past him naked to retrieve something from a drawer. He was in his briefs and I reveled in the expression of mild shock, replaced by an amused smirk on his face as I ran past, clutching a towel to my bust. I stopped just before the bathroom door and mumbled to myself as I bent over to touch my feet, leaving him free to examine my ass, no doubt my best feature. He was looking, and as I rose again, I gave him a wink. 

When I returned I found him struggling with studs and links and helped him install them in his stiff as a board starched white wing collared shirt. Something very erotic about a woman helping a man dress in formal attire. I loved it, even more because I'd never done this. He didn't wear a clip-on bow tie. He tied one himself and that was another thing that set me off...that he even knew how. 




The Personal Assistant



I wore a black tight fitting flowing dress that night which ended midway down my calf, black shoes with hugely tall spikes and covered in rhinestones, and no underwear so he wouldn't see lines on my dress. God he was handsome and tall. He slicked his hair back with gel and looked like he was out of Gatsby. 

The Rainbow Room was very posh and totally unexpected coming as a gift from such a tight-wad as the owner of our company. But it was a snore. The office girls from Staten Island with huge hair and too much make-up all sitting together at tables and the salesforce all sitting at the bar. This place was totally wasted on such a crowd. 

"Let's get the fuck out of here." I said. 

"Okay." 

We walked to the beautiful art deco elevator and headed down to the ground floor. Out the door and there was the beautiful Rockefeller Center Christmas tree being lit, hundreds, perhaps thousands of people all around. I thread my arm through his and he smiled. Mmmm...those lips...those lips were going to be mine this evening. 

"Where to Felicity? Shall we catch a cab?" 

"Not going that far as yet." 

"Then what's on the agenda?" 

"A party. You'll see." 

I directed him into a building right across from the tree...just a short walk. We entered another Rock Center building facing the tree and took the elevator up to the second floor. The doors opened and we were at Gensler, the offices of the largest architectural firm in the world. 

"You're invited to the Gensler Christmas party? Holy shit." He said. 

The receptionist looked up with a smile and asked our names. 

"This is Ralph Mancini and I am Dina Frank," I answered. Cards with our names were removed from a box and handed to us. 

"Are you fucking crazy? We're crashing the biggest party in our industry and taking the tags for two of the most important principal architects in town? You've got to be kidding me!!" 

I grabbed two glasses of champagne from the first waiter to pass and handed Chris one. He drank it in one go and grabbed another. I smiled. He wasn't going to be very good at this, I could tell. 

"Ralph!" A chubby guy, misplaced in a dark brown suit smiled at us, his focus on my date. "How the hell are you? Merry Christmas." 

I looked at his tag and it said his name was Dan and he came from a Midwestern supplier of laminate. 

"Hello, I'm Dina Frank." 

"Dan Sweeny. Good to meet you Dina." 

"Do you two know each other?" Chris was stiff as a board but was at least smiling. 

"No, we've never met," Dan said. "But we've done business together. 

We spoke for a minute and then I excused us from his inappropriate sales-pitch at a party. 

"We've really got to get out of here. You're going to get us in a lot of trouble Feliss." 

"Oh...how sweet Chris. You've shortened my name. Never did that before. You like my name? It means someone who likes to suck." 

"No it doesn't you jerk. That's Felatia, if such a name exists, and I doubt it. Your name means happiness and looking at you, anyone could see why." 

I kissed him on his cheek and drew him along, opening a door off the hallway and pulling him inside. We looked around and knew right away that this was the Gensler resource library...stacks of catalogues and rows of floor to ceiling bookshelves loaded with binders. At least we were now out of the public eye. No one else was in this room. 

"Wow...what a library. Look at this place." 

Chris had forgotten his whereabouts and his desire to see more took over. We stepped further into the space and he sat at the librarian's desk and flipped through some sample textiles. I climbed a ladder up four steps to the top and pretended to look at the names on the binders. I caught him looking at my bare legs as I reached the top. 

"Hey man...help steady me on my way down. These shoes are slippery." 

There was no way to steady me except to hold my legs so I lifted my skirt up high and left him grabbing my calves, then thighs, all the while staring at my bare ass as I very, very, slowly made my way down. He didn't release me as he made his way up my legs but swept his hands over me as he approached my ass. God, I could scream. 

"Don't do that again." He said, as he walked to the window facing the building across the plaza. After a moment he spoke again. "Hey check this out." 

Across the way, in a mirror image building, was a woman, by herself, looking out the window back at Chris. She was also well dressed for an event, also in a darkened room, also holding a drink and staring back at us. She did not move, just stared. I pushed my way around Chris and slithered in front of him, pressing my way up close to the window, while he practically spooned me from behind. Reaching down I took his hands and said "Watch this." 

I lifted his hands up my sides, very slowly, then onto my belly, all the time looking at the chick across the street. Then I slid his hands up and over my breasts and squeezed down, his fingers spread wide over my tits. I leaned my head back onto his shoulder and said three words, "Watch the chick." He pulled me into him further and tilted his head to my hair and I could sense him breathing me in, but we never stopped looking at the woman across the way. She put down her drink and placed one hand over her own breasts and the other between her legs and drew up her dress and started fondling herself. Oh my God this was hot. I backed up into Chris further and he was a part of my ass now. He was fused to my back. He released my breasts, laughing gently and pivoting to the side, grabbing my hip in one hand and holding my hair in a fist with his other. He bent me down forcefully and pushed up against my ass as if he was taking me from behind. He held my hair so tight as he pulled me into his crotch, me bent over but with my head bent upwards. My lips parted and I could feel his erection up the crack of my ass. My skirt had risen onto my back and his pants were rubbing into bare skin. Oh my God. He's gonna fuck me here. He's gonna violate my asshole in the Gensler library. I'd forgotten all about the chick and was already in a dream state, waiting to feel his released prick touch the outskirts of my little pucker. 

I wondered if he would make it in there, dry as it was...but he knew what to do. He knew to stuff himself in my vag and get the juices flowing before choosing another hole. He laughed, and his voice brought me back. Damn...I like this place...don't bring me back. Shit. 

"Check her out Feliss. Check her out." 

I looked to the side and the girl was on the radiator cover, on her knees, and touching herself, face pressed to the window. Chris had not whipped out his dick. He wasn't even erect under his zipper as far as I could tell. All this fantasy shit was going on in my mind. Dammit. 

"So are you gonna' fuck me or what?" 

He answered. "I think this will fall into the or-what category." 

"Damn you. You've got me about to cum, I swear. What the heck Chris." 

"You nut. I'm not screwing your ass at the Gensler party. What the hell are you thinking? But I will say this much. You have an outstanding ass." He reached back and gave me a good slap then returned my dress to its proper position. 

"What the hell does it take to get you going man? That was so hot." 

"Honey...we work together. I'm not going there. You're like one of my best friends. Hell, I already spend more time with you than with Astra. Get a grip, will ya'?" 

"How 'bout a blowjob? Come on...just let me suck your dick." I got down on my knees in front of him and looked up, trying to figure out how to make it past his cummerbund. 

"Get up you nut. You're gonna' make me cum in my pants. You're out of control." 

He lifted me to my feet and I felt completely deflated. I was sure I'd have him in mouth in a sec. What the fuck? Do women make offers like this to him all the time? What goes on at those fashion companies he works with when he's out of sight? Am I not good looking enough? Bullshit. I reached down and stroked my hand over him. 

"Stop it!! Damn woman. Cut it out. I'm trying real hard to remain loyal to my wife and you are making it damned near impossible." 

"Well, at least I can see you are interested." 

"Do you really imagine in your wildest dreams that I'm not? Are you completely crazy? You are so fuckin' hot. And I already like you a lot. If I wasn't married we wouldn't be here. We'd be back at your place and you'd be squirming around on my face." 

Okay...the bastard had said the right thing. Damn he's said the right thing! What am I gonna' do? He won't budge. 

"So what you're saying is that if Astra was dead you'd be all over me?" 

"Yeah. That's what I'm saying." 

"She could have an accident you know. At any time it could be all over for her, she's such a ditz and totally unaware of her environment. It would be easy to push her in front of a bus." 

"Fuck you bitch. Don't even joke about such things." 

"Fuck you too. If I had a dick I'd be fuckin' you with it right now." 

"I'll bet you would...but I now have first-hand knowledge you don't have one. Do you ever wear undies?" 

"Not since I met you." 

Silence reigned as we adjusted our clothes and looked back out the window. She was gone. We'd let her off the boil and she was gone. I wondered who that girl was. 

"I'm not sure you would want me if Astra was history. I'm not your type. She's so tall and busty and such a fuckin' Lady. Do the two of you actually have sex or just tea?" 

"Idiot." 

"Shithead." She replied. 

"Feliss...you've got a great bod. I'd love to tap that ass of yours. But you are also so much more to me. You are so smart and witty and keep me in line. I love how you look after me. You are already like a second wife and I am finding all this sex talk kind of creepy. I don't have the strength to keep up and I don't want to start avoiding you because you've become a stalker." 

"Look dickhead. I live across the street from work. You could eat me for breakfast, come back for a blowjob at lunchtime and then savage my asshole before going home. No one would ever be the wiser for it. Come on...I'm so damn horny. This is so unfair." 

He looked at me and suddenly lunged and I was totally unprepared having already resigned myself to loss. He grabbed me around the waist with one hand and crushed me to his chest and grabbed the hair on the back of my head almost painfully and pulled my face to his lips. Oh God I was consumed by those lips, by his mouth as he made his way across my face and cheek and neck, holding me so tight I could barely breath. Then it was over and he disengaged. 

"Now look," he said. "I just did that because we both needed it. I love you Feliss. I really do. You are the best, but our timing prevents escalation. I'm not fucking with several lives for the sake of lust. Tonight when I go home late and my wife is asleep, I'll be masturbating thinking of you...of your lips wrapped around my cock. But it will be fantasy. That kiss is the only reality you and I will ever have. Please don't stop being the wonderful person you are. Don't ever stop flirting. You make me feel really good about myself whenever you do. But my dick stays in my pants, alright? Please?" 

I was still stunned at the kiss. Did I hear anything he said? Probably not. I never really listen to him anyway. Okay...it is only a little step forward, but it is a step. 

"Let's go." 

"Where to this time?" He asked. 

"I've got a place in mind." 

We cabbed down to Bleeker Street and Thompson and went into a place called the Scrap Bar. The exterior was covered in pieces of Harley Davidsons...scrap, ergo the name. We stepped in and all eyes turned to us. Two dozen bearded and tattooed bikers and their chicks in this place and I'm dressed in a tux with a bow tie looking like Pee Wee Herman. Shit...I'm dead meat. Luckily we weren't killed right away. Matter of fact, Felicity being the sexpot she was, we were left alone. We approached the bar and I ordered two double tequilas with salt and lemon wedges. 

"Hi...who're you?" A hot blonde at the bar turned on me and spoke in a very southern accent, her friend beside her, another breathtaking beauty with blonde hair smiling ear to ear. 

"I'm Felicity and this is Chris. We work for MTV." 

Does she ever stop fantasizing? Shit. Now we work for MTV? 

"I'm Virginia, from South Carolina, and this is Georgia from Kentucky." 

We cracked up. What an introduction. Felicity ordered two more double shots and in a minute, four more. 

We chatted up these two lovely hicks and my assistant explained that we were at a music awards dinner hanging with Michael Jackson and Madonna. They bought it up without question, feeling they were about to be discovered. They were also hanging onto one another so there was no question about their gender bias. Man they were lovely, and their accents made them very exotic. After about fifteen minutes of complete and total bullshitting, Felicity grabbed the girls and the three of them retreated to the bathroom. Now I was left with the bikers at the bar and a huge guy came over and sat beside me, his arms as big as my thighs and his beard with streaks of grey down his chest. He wore a black leather jacket with a picture of Jane Fonda on it in her Barbarella spacesuit which read "Jane Fonda, America's Hot Traitor Bitch". 

Oh shit...oh shit...he's gonna talk to me. What do I do? 

"Dude?" 

"Yes sir?" I answered. 

"You answer a question for me?" 

"Sure...if I can?" Here it comes...oh my God! 

"Is Michael Jackson really as sweet as he seems to be in public...I mean does he really speak that way?" 

What the fuck? "Yeah, he's a living doll, Michael is." 

We were in the bathroom and I held their arms and was speaking softly, gaining their confidence. 

"Look girls, I really need your help." 

South Carolina slid her hand down my shoulder and over my boob, gently pinching my nipple. Whoa...that was unexpected. Kentucky smiled and cupped my ass. Holy shit! 

"What's up MTV? What'd ya need?" 

"Chris is my best friend and he is bi headed gay. I can get nowhere with him. I need you girls to convince him that women are the way...the only way. Can you help?" 

"Shit yeah. He's cute. Especially in his nice waiter uniform." 

"Great. That's just great! You've made my day." 

"Yeah but first you are gonna' do somethin' for us." 

"Sure, whatever." 

Carolina placed her hands on either side of my face and pressed her lips to my mouth and Kentucky came at my backside, sliding her hands around me and cupping my breasts. My eyes opened wide as her tongue found its way into my mouth. I didn't fight it. Pointless in a biker bar with two chics bigger than me. I was sandwiched between a whole lot of sex and laughed at myself. I brought Chris in here for some payback and now I was the target of unexpected lust. Shit...I kissed back. They turned me around and switch-hit, trading places on my face and bod. I felt my dress being hiked up and then fingers finding their way over my shaved sex. 

"Mmmm...no hair Georgia. A real New York treat." 

I was hot as fuckin' hell at this unexpected exploration of my bod by two biker chicks. Never did this before, not even close...but I let it happen and then started to really get into it. Fuck Chris...we'll just leave him there to be violated by the bikers. Kentucky was down on her knees and went at me. Shit yeah...I came in a flash. Never came so fast or so unexpectedly as that before. Both girls smiled. 

"Later on honey, we're gonna welcome you to the Deep South, if you get my meaning. I've got a real good toy in my bag, and you're now our big city bitch." 

The girls returned and I was surrounded by a bunch of huge dudes telling them how I'd screwed my way through a bunch of lovelies at Madonna's mansion in Southern California. Felicity looked at me with fire in her eyes, having expected to be rescuing me at this moment and not imagining that I'd have a fan club instead. 

"Out of the way boys." Kentucky yelled. "This fella's ours." The two of them went at my face with lips and noses and chins, hands all over me, my cummerbund lifted high and my pants being unbuckled. I didn't know where to put my hands and arms to ward off the attack. It seemed to be coming from all directions. Then Virginia was on her knees in front of me, Georgia on her knees spooning her from behind, lifting her tee up and exposing her breasts, pinching her nipples...both smiling ear to ear. 

"Whip it out MTV. Come on...we want to work it over. Whip it out." 

"Blow job, blow job, blow job..." the chant began at the bar; big dudes whacking the bar with their open hands in rhythm to the chant. "Blow job, blow job, BLOW JOB!!" 

Felicity reached in her bag and pulled out a Polaroid camera and started taking pictures of the girls fondling each other on the floor, mouths open wide in front of my pants, but once the flash went off in the camera, they hesitated, then got up off the floor and in a moment, were out the door, curses and catcalls following them out into the cold December air. 

After about ten minutes, Felicity and I made our way out the door as well. I'd had too much to drink and it was time to find my way home. As we hailed another cab, the two chicks, who'd been hiding in the shadows, jumped in the back seat beside us. I gave Felicity's address and in ten minutes, ten minutes of hands and tongues, boobs and legs, we had arrived. We all got out and as the three of them turned their backs and I reached in to pay, I hopped back in and the cab peeled away toward my Upper West Side home. I looked out the window at my assistant, two hot chicks draped around her, smiling a knowing smile at me and giving me the finger as I drove away. I was completely satisfied that I'd left her in their care and wondered who would win that battle. No chance, Felicity, hands down. 

© 2015 Rebecca Branch