****** Hard Steel by UK Snowy ******
===============================================================================

Hard Steel


This story is written especially on request of 'mekboy' who visited White
Shadow's chat room, The Armpit of the Internet. I hope he manages to locate it
and present it to his girlfriend whose fantasies are hopefully echoed in my
tale. He wanted it for her birthday at the end of March. Happy Birthday......

Hard Steel by UK Snowy

"Be a good girl and stay here," said daddy. "I really need a presence here,
just a security factor, you know darling."

"But daddy, there's nothing to do and how long are you going to be?" I whined
petulantly, smoothing my brown curly locks and admiring my superbly manicured
nails.

He fiddled with his briefcase and shaking his head turned to a filing cabinet.
I sulkily crossed my legs, highlighting the sheen of my lightly oiled thighs.
The sofa in his palatial office was certainly comfortable and now the factory
had closed for the weekend, it was peaceful. But it was just the plush office
of the CEO and millionaire owner, my daddy. Down below us, the small tight
complex of high volume, quality novelty manufacturing now slumbered having made
several more thousands for our family to enjoy. Daddy didn't believe in weekend
working, the whole place ticked over nice and efficiently and he vowed that the
twenty or so workers could always enjoy their weekends.

"Look Louisa," explained daddy. "You know the alarm system is down and the
engineer will come tonight and I'll stay with him once I'm back, but it's going
to be a couple of hours yet and I must get to this meeting at the Marriott with
Kamahachi Corp. You know what the Japs are like for punctuality. Please? You
told me you had nothing planned this evening. Just till the engineer arrives.
You are locked in, you have your mobile and there are no windows downstairs and
the sun will be up till about eight at least tonight . Its quite sunny up here
isn't it?"

I reluctantly agreed, nodding at the bright shafts streaming through the partly
blinded windows and after he reminded me I could get online and surf and he
knew how much I enjoyed that. I saw him off and took his kiss on the cheek and
his usual pat on my butt. He showed me the manual locking system for the door,
it certainly looked formidable and left me to it. Just because my MG coupe had
broken down and he was giving me lift home later, I was here. Otherwise I would
have left the office at the usual time of three thirty like all the staff. So I
didn't have anything planned - true. But I could have phoned a whole host of
friends and sorted something, as often as I do on loose ends. I trotted back
through the factory, my four inch black patent leather stilettos clacketting on
the hard floor then echoing weirdly as I mounted the steel stairs to the first
floor suite of offices. I needed a pee and on making my way down the passage to
the ladies restroom, it suddenly seemed a bit of a laugh to look into the mens.

This was the staff toilet and not the workforce of course, so I knew it would
be clean although the factory is not a greasy grimy place. Even knowing it was
deserted, I crept in on tiptoes and peered round the compact room. The cleaner
had already been in at fourthirty and it was immaculate. I thought I might find
a stock of men's magazines, but no - not a pinup in the room or in the one
cubicle or even a condom machine. We didn't have one in the girl's room either.
The flush sluiced down the long stainless steel urinal wall and trough and made
my pee urge greater. I thought what if I could pee into the urinal standing up.
Just like the fellas.

I glanced round stupidly, as if to check if anyone was watching, then on
impulse, hoisted my mid thigh skirt, pulled my silk panties down and then off,
hanging them on the bracket of the flush downpipe, reasoning it would be easier
to perform with no hindrance. I stood close to the trough and bent my legs,
thrusting my crotch forward. I was helped by the natural angle my body was
tilted by my high heels. Just in time I remembered it would be prudent to sort
out my cunt lips. They are rather long and often get sort of knitted together
during the exertions of the day. Its not a problem when you perch on the toilet
seat, letting pee splash anywhere, but I remember hiking with my last boyfriend
and squatting to pee in some bushes and forgot the knitting. My pee burst out
at an angle and wet my thigh, knee and boot. It could have been embarrassing
but I got round it somehow.

I splayed my cunt flaps like two pink wings and let go. God! The relief is
incredible when you really need it and I was pretty damned good at aiming,
making noisy splashes into the sparkling steel trough. Steam rose and I could
smell the strong asparagus odour that always taints your pee, from the nice
lunch I had with a sales guy. I chuckled to myself at the image the sales guy
would have of me and here I was, the twenty-six-year-old busty, curvy brunette
daughter of the boss. The procurement manager of Sagar Products, pissing into a
man's toilet. My flow stopped and then I did have a problem. Men don't have
paper handy at the urinals, preferring to shake their cocks and get rid of
drips. I glanced around, still holding my pussy open and then spotted my
panties. Oh well, I was going straight home later and it wasn't the first time
I'd gone anywhere without knickers. I swiped through my crotch and when
satisfied I was dry, I stuffed the damp garment into some paper towel, washed
my hands and left the men's toilet. The touch at my genitals although matter of
fact was comforting and I giggled recalling how my labia had waggled
grotesquely when I wiped them with the expensive undies. They are so pendulous
and how I managed to get them I don't know. My big sis Laura hasn't got labia
like mine and she's seen mummy's and hers aren't dangly either.

Back in daddy's suite I bunged the knickers into my handbag and logged on and
surfed for a while, visiting The Armpit of the Internet sexy chat room I liked
when feeling naughty. I haven't a clue why I felt that way now, maybe it was
boredom or sort of so there daddy. Oddly enough the chat room was boring and
then got fucked up, but I had managed to see a few raunchy pictures before
leaving the chat room. There were several threesomes of blondes and a fella and
then the other way and many with girls getting it in the arse. That seems to be
the thing these days especially with porno and I'm going to try it one day,
with the right fella of course. I logged off and felt damp in my crotch, so in
the privacy of the deserted office suite I lifted my skirt and saw that I had a
decidedly juicy fanny. Luckily the lining of my Versace skirt would hide any
outer stain and it would be dry cleaned tomorrow so I dismissed worrying about
it. It doesn't take much to get me juicy and in most circumstances I would
normally go for my vibrator, but the fucking batteries had run out on my pocket
job and that's all I had in my handbag,. not getting a chance during the day to
get out and get refills. I must admit I'd searched the office in vain for the
right size at after lunch, feeling a touch randy after a few nice wines and
flattery.

Daddy's paper knife caught my eye, resting on a works machinery catalogue. It
had a nice bone handle which was about four inches long and curved. I sat on
his leather Chesterfield, hoisted my skirt yet again, opened my legs and delved
it into my cunt, pressing it on my clit and idly rubbing as I leafed absently
through the catalogue. I wriggled my skirt higher so that my butt was on the
leather seat and made it squeak as I rocked gently. The catalogue had attracted
my attention as it pandered as usual to the male buyer and featured two comely
female models in bib and brace. I fantasisied on what their pussies would look
like and turned the paper knife round liking the cold sharp edge of the steel
blade on my inflamed clitty.

One of the machines illustrated seemed familiar and I realised we had two just
like it in the factory. One model who looked to be of mixed race was pictured
holding a fairly provocative pose, her hand not quite caressing the parts of
the stretcher and stitcher, used for soft materials. But it was mildly arousing
especially in my state. I glanced round daddy's office again and saw his golf
umbrella. The handle was big round and chunky. Discarding the paper knife I
went to the corner of the room and grabbed the umbrella. Back on the chair I
leaned way back and shoved the handle of the Golf souvenir into my sluicing
quim. I managed to jam it against the desk, so I could let go of it and just
rock and ram down on the bulbous handle. Six inches of polished ebony coloured
plastic slid easily in and out of my hungry twat, yet I was already looking
around for something else, craving more obscure objects to titillate my sexual
high.

Through the open door into Clarissa's, my daddy's secretary's room, I could see
the parts of an office chair, waiting to be sent for repair. What caught my
attention was a long round object, amongst the pile of parts. I squeezed my
cunt muscles making the umbrella handle plop out of my cunt and got up to
investigate. The round object was the leather clad, padded part which would
envelope the tubular steel chair arm and was about twelve inches long and two
inches in diameter and slightly curved. It was well worn and maybe a little
grimy, but it looked phallic and menacing. There in the old girl's office I
stood and rammed it upwards into my crotch. I imagined what crusty but
efficient Clarissa, with her blue rinsed hair, her calf length tartan skirts
and sensible shoes would have said if she'd seen me as I poked the end of the
object blindly at my greasy snatch. Luckily it had rounded ends, with some sewn
joints and as I stood awkwardly, legs splayed lewdly, thrusting the thing deep
into my hungry pussy I had to support myself on the window sill looking down
onto the factory floor.

I gasped loudly at the pleasure and as my head swung in ecstacy, I caught a
glimpse of the stretcher stitcher machine down on the work area. It occurred to
me that when I'd started working for daddy, the one thing he made me do as with
my brother Erik who was now sales manager, was to make me work in the factory.
OK it was light and clean although a pain in the butt, but for six weeks it was
also fun, with the repartee amongst the guys. I had started work on the
stretcher stitcher, known as Wendel after the manufacturers. There was Wendel 1
and Wendel 2 side by side and my mischievous and highly erotic state of mind,
although being happily fed by the broken chair arm up my cunt shouted WENDEL!
He, yes Wendel had to be a he, had some rather interestings protrusions and I
decided to experiment with them.

As I trotted down the stairs, the heel clattering noise seemingly more echoing
now, I eyed the two machines only feet from the stair bottom. My skirt was
round my hips and my fanny was dripping my juices down my leg as I approached
Wendel 1. I must have looked peculiar as I bent to switch the power on. Bare
butt, exceedingly good quality skirt in a mess of folds crumpled round my waist
and very slimy thighs. Wendel 1 hummed quietly into action as I isolated the
stretcher, not needing the stitcher. I slithered onto the flat, steel, cold bed
holding the cable linked control pod. Patiently and god knows how I managed to
be so patient, I pressed the relevant buttons for the different stretchers,
letting them emerge from the bed, working out my approach. There were three of
each size. They could all arise simultaneously, or one or two at a time. The
holes they emerged from were about an inch apart and the machine control
allowed the operator to choose how many of each size.

It just had to be the large one. The shiny mirrored finish prong rose from the
bed some nine inches high and three inches in diameter. It had the exact shape
of a dildo and caused great mirth on the shop floor, especially with new staff
and of course I'd been one of them. I gazed at the smooth round tip with
unbridled lust, testing my prowess on the speed control, finding I still had
the knack and then I stopped its motion as it sunk down flush with the machine
bed. The next bit took some thought, but I managed to swing the overhanging
section of the machine away and ungracefully waddle on bent legs to get my butt
over the prong aperture. I made the prong rise an inch or two and by squatting,
positioned my cunt on it, feeling once again the thrilling sensation of cold
steel on my over heated labia. My high heels made it difficult to get low
enough so I cast them off, loving the cold plate on my bare feet.

I pressed the button and the prong rose slowly into my pussy. It stretched my
willing orifice more than it had ever been stretched, but not fully in. I
stopped the prong again at its highest point and then shifted my legs and
slowly sat down on the great invader. The sense of fullness was wonderful and I
wriggled gently, finding that I could flatten my buttocks to let more of the
steel tool pierce me. I rested on it - on Wendel, wallowing in the feeling of a
powerful machine under my control and filling my fanny. With a deep breath I
activated Wendel and felt him slide smoothly from me and then in deliciously
timed moments he rose, erection assured, up into my craving cunt. I arched my
back, altering the angle of my vagina, finding yet again, Wendel managed to
penetrate even deeper with each upward stroke. It was sensational. I thought of
the thin sheets of leather and vinyls that would normally pass over Wendel's
prong, to be formed into the varying shapes housed in the formers in the upper
part of the machine. They would be stretched to almost condom thickness before
being gathered and stitched. I couldn't even contemplate the stitching element
within my machine lover, not wanting my juicy quim to be painfully sewn up and
never penetrated again.

Comfortably seated I increased the speed and Wendel started to plunge up into
my sex, parting my flappy labia easily with the all powerful machine mind that
he was. He could make no allowances for human frailty, knowing only the two
directions, up and down. Speed was in my hands and for several minutes I played
with the varying gears below the steel bed, via the control pod in my hand.
Wendel could go very fast, but I wanted good solid sex, not a quick climax, so
the rhythm was important. I found the right beat and placed the pod beside me,
lifting my body in slightly different angles, feeling for alternate sensations
within. I rolled my buttocks letting Wendel sear one side of my vaginal
membranes and then the other. Now and then a ploppy sound would break the
constant hum, my cunt juices spurting from me in the vacuum that the huge
mechanical dildo formed.

Letting my climax form slowly, I simply varied Wendel's pace and played with
the amount of protrusion with which he would emerge, erect from the machine
bed. The moment arrived and I built the speed to the fastest I'd dared. Wendel
slammed into me, hard, solid and reliable, my soggy cunt allowing complete
freedom for his piercing to hit home. My orgasms are always quiet. I don't
scream or shout. My audible signs of climax are guttural, but my inner muscles
contract tightly and now as the climax raged within my brain, I was seeing
stars, my mouth hung open and Wendel was rippling against the clenching walls
of my cunt. I slowed him gradually to a stop, his tip flush with the machine
bed and I sat trembling for some moments catching breath and wallowing in the
waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

On sliding away, guiltily I saw the pool of my cum on the machine bed. Easing
gently down to the floor, I grabbed the ready supply of rags and wiped the bed
clean, raising Wendel and wiping him carefully too. I grinned at the experiment
I'd just embarked upon. With a little kiss blown in his direction I left
Wendel, picked up my shoes, but instead of retiring upstairs to rest, I walked
on through the factory.

I was on a high of innovation. A conveyor belt took my eye. The Freddidge
Polishing Deck was about thirty-six feet long and was actually two beds that
traversed side by side at a controlled speed. Fred was the final polishing
section of a range of novelties and as they travelled on the belt, various
wheels rotated in the gap between the twin belts. The wheels were surfaced with
grades of what I can only describe as sort of carpet coverings from rough to
smooth, ending in fluffy. I knew the operator could control the speed of the
belts, the wheels and the height the wheels stayed above the belt level. I
gazed at the machine and its formidable length and complexity.

Did I dare use it to stimulate my clitoris to new heights? You bet I fucking
did. Oh yes the Procurement Manager can swear like the shop floor operatives I
blustered as I excitedly found the cable linked control pod. This was much more
complicated, but hell! I'd worked on it. I slammed the mains power switch over
and a noisier rumble than Wendel permeated the quiet almost dusty factory air.
I set Fred's wheels at half an inch high and slow to fast over the entire
length of the rubberised belt. I set the belts at minimum speed and climbed
aboard, my feet straddling the belts until I was ready to commit to my new
machine lover.

If there'd been someone at the far end, they would have seen the most lewd
sight up my skirt which was now like a roll round my waist. I had decided not
to remove it just in case. In case of what? If I was disturbed now, it would
make no difference whether I was wearing a skirt. I had earlier noticed a
slight oil smear on my cream blouse, but I did need to keep that on. Leaving a
trail of clothing round the place was not sensible, but oddly I was not in a
sensible mode right now. Anyway the sight of my sloppy dangling labia, hanging
open, surrounded by my thick matted pubic hair would have looked strange in the
context of the shop floor.

Lowering my butt, the belts chafed my skin until I resigned myself to the
adventure and settled fully onto the conveyor. I took off, closed my legs out
in front of me and waited. The first wheel rolled between my legs, hitting and
missing flesh until it reached my thighs. I slowed it, worried that it would
rip my clitty off as that was the purpose of this exercise. Pure clitoral
stimulation. Just in time the gearing cut in and it whisked round and round as
it passed under my cunt. I jolted as it contacted my cherry loving the fissures
of desire it created. I approached the next wheel and again it was a momentary
jolt until it slithered through my labia. I stopped Fred and adjusted the
height upwards and off I went again.

Wow! The smoother wheel hit my clit with more pressure and then sliced my cunt
flaps like butter, but the extra bonus was that it flicked over my arse hole
and it seemed quite a nice sensation. I stopped Fred again and raised the
wheels again and off I went. The clitoral and anal stimulation was a wonderful
combination and I let Fred ride and tickle me for the full passage of the
belts. Greedily I slammed the reverse gear in and rolled back to my start
point, the anal first then clit tickles giving a very different sensation. At
the top of the machine I stopped Fred and raised the wheels and speeded them up
a touch and let the ride complete before reversing once more. By now my cherry
was burning, my arsehole tingled and my desire for more machine love was at a
height. I rode Fred twice more before I spotted another opportunity to
experiment.

We had two benches with vertically mounted buffer wheels, purely for the odd
time that hand buffing was needed. They were rarely used and my eye was drawn
to the wheels, with brand new fluffy sheepskin covers protected under dust
shrouds. I slid off Fred and banged his power off, not bothering about the
wheels or their slimy appearance. There was no need for mechanical adjustment
as I unveiled the nearest buffer wheel. All I had to do was get a box, stand on
it, bend double so that I could press my butt onto the revolving wheel after
switching it on and lo and behold I was in raptures as the soft fronds of the
sheepskin caressed my clitty, cunt lips and arsehole all at the same time. It
was heaven and I could lean back or forward varying the pressure. The wheel had
standard speed so I had to rely on my movement to achieve maximum sensations.

My eager eyes were now scanning the shop floor again as the buffer polished my
butt. The fluffy surface was soon reduced to a soaking mass as it ploughed
through my drippy flaps. The ends of the fluff turned into tiny whiplashes on
my clit and drove me on wanting more and more of the novel punishment I was
inflicting on myself. Climaxes were wound up, seeming to burst out and make me
tremble and shiver and fall away from the spinning wheel, but I eased my turgid
cunt away and let the sensations die each time. It was so intense, just like
the control you have with a vibrator although my hands were free. I just tilted
my butt at the wheel and away I went again. The feelings at my arse were
intensifying and as I mentioned earlier, I did intend to let the right guy give
me one in the back passage, I'd never had the stimulus so far to try it. Now my
bottom was being tickled to a frenzy and seemed so needful of being fulfilled.
Its funny, even being well born into wealth and pampered through school,
college, university and work, a girl still gets the same basic urges whoever
they may be.

I wanted to be butt fucked and Wendel's upper contraptions caught my eye. A bit
reluctantly, but driven by the desire of new adventures, I popped down from the
box, switched off the wheel and trotted briskly to my first factory lover. The
upper mechanics were not important, it was the flat steel bed and those
marvellously animated stretchers I had inspected earlier. I'd inadvertently
left Wendel's power on so I raised all of his sexy looking prongs. Yeah, the
small one seemed best for my purpose. My virgin purpose. Like a familiar friend
I sidled onto his bed, the steel cold and soothing on my overheated labia,
which dragged messily as I shoved my butt across to young Wendel. He looked
young, only an inch in diameter, but he could still raise a respectable nine
inches like his big brothers.

I swiped some of the profuse puddle of juices which curdled inside my cunt and
occasionally released itself with twists of my body onto my tender puckered
bottom hole. God! it felt good just to finger it, something I hadn't bothered
with before, treating the orifice as purely functional. There was a distinct
ring of raised muscles and it felt so zippy. I thought about Wendel Jr's
hardness and how it would interact with the delicate tissues in my anus, but he
was so smooth and I swabbed some cunt juice onto him as he rose and fell to my
timed control buttons. I stopped him a couple of inches above the bed and
manoeuvred my butt over Junior and felt for him, my arsehole relaxed trying to
locate the dome of his shaft. Ah! there it was hard and cold, it felt lovely on
the hot wrinkled ring of my bum.

With a catch of breath I lowered carefully onto Junior feeling a searing pain
which I assumed comes from something alien penetrating my sphincter the wrong
way. But I reckoned what ever size and thickness could come down, could go back
up again, allowing for the difference of texture of the objects of course. I
settled like a chicken on an egg, wiggling my buttocks and feeling the solid
tip just inside me. I rose up and down a few times and thanked my lucky stars
for my fitness level due to the enormous fees I paid at the gym. I'd certainly
tested my fitness today with all the bending and twisting and squatting I had
to perform.

A touch of the control sent Junior slowly upwards, seeking the clear run
through from my anus to my rectum. I stopped him several times and moved
slightly to try and ease what was quite a sharp pain, but I found that subsided
gradually as my inner membranes adjusted to the enormity of the intrusion. You
know girls, you've peeked into the toilet bowl and seen what's come out haven't
you. Well truthfully Wendel Jr was no bigger than some of my efforts,
especially after a lot of red wine and some exotic food. But the fact he was
hard, unforgiving and straight did give the whole scene a different edge.

Soon I was taking him in one stroke, fully inserted at a nice easy pace and the
titillation of my muscles and nerves wrapping round his solidity was sublime.
It was surprisingly sexy and new sensations whizzed through me, triggered by
the polished hard steel object up my turd tunnel. I speeded up Junior and had
to adjust rapidly to allow for what had been gentle inner movements, but once
settled again, I was at one with my arse bandit and wondered who the lucky
boyfriend of several I would allow to in there. Occasionally between rapturous
gasps and moans from my mouth and dirty sluicing noises from my cunt and arse,
I would peer down at Junior. I couldn't actually see him of course, but I could
gather my labia to one side and see my sphincter being penetrated, expanding
then contracting as he plunged up and down. It was then that I noticed that all
of Wendel's prongs were close together as I've described earlier, but it was by
chance I'd opted for the last of the three small sized prongs. The next size,
the medium, two inches in diameter was only a sliver of steel away, lurking
down in its burrow like hole, like an evil cock monster poised to pounce and
plunder the next juicy pussy that hovered over its steel lair.

The edge of the burrow was an inch from my cunt and I pondered on its erection
and how it would satisfy me to get the medium Wendel into my by now frenzied
snatch at the same time as Junior. Could I take two solids at one time? I
grabbed the control pod and stopped Junior at his extreme height. Carefully I
raised his brother. I tried to shift and position my cunt on him, but of
course, the invader already pleasuring me wouldn't share me. I couldn't budge,
but what I did find was that Mr Medium could shoot straight past the soggy
sagging portals which were my fanny lips and titillate my clitoris with his
cold sparkling sheath.

I raised Mr medium's speed and banged it to fast. The prong fair whizzed up and
down, lathering my cunt opening and ripping past my engorged clitoris. It was
bliss and as I started Junior, tentatively to start, finding I had once again
to adjust to his positively upright thrusts, the combination soon developed
into the ultimate of girl only masturbations. I could feel a tremendous orgasm
building very soon, bearing in mind I had suppressed the urge to have several
in my gradual and daring explorations.

Machine love became so satisfying. Reamed from behind by a tool fashioned by
man, but remote from the male species and to be titillated at the front by its
bigger twin was a fantastic experience. Control was in my hands although by now
I had discarded the pod and just sat hard down on Junior while Mr medium made
my clit shimmer with wetness. The moment came and the sudden lurch of awareness
of the impending cum hurt inside my arsehole, but was soon dissipated by the
pleasure, the shivers of excitement and the rush of blood to all the outer
nerve ends of my whole body.

It felt like every limb was burning. Blood veins raised on my arms, my face
flushed hot and my gut gripped, my empty but satisfied cunt tensing, creating
its own pressure against Junior until I just had to stop him, as other urges
were starting. I wanted to pee so badly and didn't dare risk water on the
machine and its inherent electrics. I always want to pee after a good fuck and
coming and now needed to get upstairs fast. Both prongs were put away and I
slid off Wendel's bed and literally fell with a bump to the floor. I sat
briefly, legs wide, skirt a mess, blouse wet with perspiration and hair wild.
My legs were jelly like and I couldn't coordinate them. I hung onto a bracket
under Wendel's bed and hauled myself up.

The Ladies sign glared at me across the shop floor. I decided the workers rest
room was an easier proposition than up those stairs to the staff quarters and
shakily wobbled across the factory. With great relief I unloaded my bladder. My
cunt stung, but deliciously so as strong hot pee splashed through its portals,
which hung drooping towards the pool in the porcelain. At the last drop I
lightly dabbed with a tissue and jumped as the swollen muscles and flesh of my
genitals zinged their notes of joy rather than abuse. I sat for a while
glorying in my evening exploits and dabbed again. I thought to examine the
tissue this time, having reasoned I could be some way damaged, but there was no
sign.

In the solitude of the empty rest room, I stood at the mirror gazing at the
smug countenance of a satisfied woman. First sluicing my face with cold water,
I then cocked my legs, one at a time onto the basin and splashed my overheated
cunt with cold water. It was so soothing. Then I washed my thighs and arsehole
and finally my hands. After a gentle dabbing dry, I adjusted my skirt. It was a
sorry mess, but I smoothed it reasonably tidy and tried unsuccessfully to wipe
away the oil smear on my blouse. With a hand fluffed through my hair, I left
the room and sauntered casually across the factory. Wendel still hummed and I
approached him warily.

I raised Junior, Mr medium and the big Wendel. I wiped them carefully back to
their high polished state. Leaning over, I kissed them all gently, noticing
that they still smelt of machinery rather than the inner extremes of my
genitals. The steel bed was rubbed down, luckily in all cases my juices hadn't
crusted and hardened. I slammed the power off and left the stretcher stitcher
ticking as I checked Fred. He was off and I couldn't be bothered to clean the
wheels, knowing they were re covered at least twice a week anyway I reflected
on the operators thoughts as he puzzled on the strange coating they had and
somewhat matted texture. If he sniffed them, would it smell of quim or oil? I
ignored the buffing wheel, knowing that was off.

Shakily I ascended the stairs, having retrieved my shoes from somewhere between
Fred and the buffers. In the quiet air of the office suite, I repaired my
makeup and brushed and organised my hair. There was a gurgly fart from below
and I felt a dribble of cum wet my thigh. Tissues were plentiful and I dabbed
it dry. Checking my watch, I had been an hour in my machine boudoir. I happily
lay back on the sofa and read quietly. Cosmopolitan offered all sorts of
distractions but not enough and I dozed off being woken by the security
specialist at the front door buzzer. I let the small fat man in and he went to
work.

Daddy finally arrived, the factory was made secure and he drove me home. I
bathed luxuriously and lengthily waiting for Maria the maid to prepare dinner
to coincide with mummy's return from the golf course.

"I'll be away next week for a couple of days darling," said daddy over his
steak.

"Conference or clients?" asked mummy pleasantly.

"Machinery fair," he replied. "Lots of new stuff from the Far East as well as
Europe."

"Might be wise if I come too Daddy," I piped up, much to the spluttering
surprise of Erik and my parents.

"Well I sign the procurement orders. Thought it might be useful if I saw what
we buy don't you. I'm still learning about machines and their mysteries you
know," I added sweetly.

Daddy agreed with an unconcerned nod.

This story is part of White_Shadow's_Nasty_Stories.
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