by C. P. Vanner
Together they studied the photograph. It was of Beth, naked apart from the diamond pendant and high heels, facing the camera. Her head was bowed, her hands lightly clasped in front of her pubis and one foot slightly in front of the other.
‘Well, it’s lovely,’ Richard said, apparently sincerely.
‘It’s a cheek,’ Helen expostulated. ‘You’ve got a nerve, young lady,’ she said curtly to Beth. ‘What’s he supposed to do with it, take it home and put it by our bed?’
Beth appealed to Richard. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought you would like it. I imagined you might put it in a drawer in the office here. It was supposed to be a joke between you and me, and a little thank you for giving me the chance to secure the Rybix deal.’ She looked from one to the other. ‘I didn’t think,’ she said meekly, ‘I’m truly sorry.’
‘You mean you didn’t think that I’d be here,’ Helen accused, turning to her husband. ‘Well, Richard, what are you going to do about such provocative behaviour from one of your employees?’
‘First things first,’ he said mildly to his wife. ‘I have a bone to pick with her.’ He looked up at Beth, his expression stern. ‘Rybix is one thing, but you do realise you have almost cost us the Internat contract, don’t you?’
Beth nodded contritely. ‘Yes, Richard, and I’m very sorry...’
‘And...?’
Beth knew what was coming, where he was leading her. ‘And... and I deserve to be punished for my total lack of professionalism earlier, and for letting myself, you, and the company down,’ she said quietly. ‘I deserve to be severely punished.’
‘I think we all agree on that,’ he confirmed, slowly nodding, then looked at his wife. ‘But how best to do it appropriately?’
A crafty smile spread over Helen’s face. ‘I’ll have to think,’ she said, ‘and I can’t think with her standing there.’ She waved a hand at Beth. ‘While we give this due deliberation I’d prefer her to stand in the corner. That’s what normally happens to recusant girls.’
Beth looked at Richard, and he nodded, so she started to walk to one corner of the office, when Helen spoke again.
‘Naked,’ she said, and Richard nodded again.
Beth was aghast. ‘But, what happens if someone comes in?’ she protested meekly. ‘There are still people in the building.’
‘Then they’ll be surprised, and perhaps pleasantly surprised,’ Helen said. ‘Now, naked.’
Beth tried to console herself that neither of them had mentioned her getting the sack. As quickly as possible she stripped off her suit, blouse and bra. Then she hesitated with her hands on the waistband of her knickers.
‘Completely naked,’ Helen reiterated.
Beth abandoned any attempt at modesty. She levered off her shoes and slid down her knickers, stepping out of them, and then moved to the corner, away from Helen and Richard, alongside the door through which she had entered a few minutes before.
‘Face the wall,’ Helen instructed, and Beth turned to face the corner, silently cursing the older woman.
‘Now, Richard,’ Beth heard Helen say. ‘What are we...?’
Her question was interrupted by a knock on the door, and Beth felt she was going to die of shame. The door opened, and just its thickness separated her and whoever stood on the other side of it.
‘Sorry to interrupt, Richard,’ a male said. ‘Oh, hello Helen, I didn’t realise it was you. Anyway, just to let you know I’m off now, so I’ll see you when I get back from my trip.’
Beth shivered as she recognised the voice. It was Mark Truscott, a young account manager. She pressed herself against the wall, tight into the corner, and silently implored Richard not to ask him in.
‘Okay, Mark,’ she heard her boss say. ‘Busy evening planned?’
‘Yes,’ the voice behind the door replied. ‘A poker night.’
‘I didn’t know you played,’ Richard said conversationally, as Beth silently begged him to make the account manager go.
‘I don’t, but my wife does, every Wednesday. I have to look after the kids.’
‘Good for you,’ Richard chuckled. ‘And good luck in Geneva tomorrow.’
‘Thanks; I’ll tell you how it went as soon as I get back. Well, goodnight.’
The door started to close, and Beth was about to breathe normally again when she heard Richard call out, ‘Oh, Mark,’ and the door swung open again. Oh no, Richard was playing a cruel game and was going to invite him in after all.
‘Is there anyone else out there?’ her boss asked.
‘No,’ Mark said. ‘I’m the last. I’ll lock up on my way out. The cleaners will be here soon, but they have their own keys.’
‘Yes, of course they do,’ Richard said. ‘Okay, fine,’ and the door closed quietly.
‘That was almost fun,’ Beth heard Helen say. She felt weak with relief and put both hands on the wall to support herself.
‘And now to business, my darling,’ Helen said to her husband, and Beth heard her approaching from behind and then felt the woman’s hand on her shoulder. ‘Our little troublemaker is getting cold,’ she said. ‘We must warm her up a little.’ The hand slid down Beth’s back and over the soft curves of her bottom.
‘Yes, we must,’ Richard said.
‘She is very beautiful, I have to admit,’ Helen mused, turning Beth by pushing her hip. ‘And it is a beauty that should be shared. Look here.’ She pinched the nipple nearest her between thumb and forefinger. ‘And here.’ She pushed her hand between Beth’s legs and cupped the lips of her sex. ‘Everyone should see this. I am sure Mark Truscott would have liked a look.’
‘But we can hardly parade her through the office,’ Richard objected. ‘Besides, there’s no one there.’
‘No, but there is a photograph, and a very revealing photograph.’ As she spoke, Helen ran one finger back and forth against Beth’s warm, moist labia. ‘She was shameless in giving it to you. She’d probably appreciate a wider audience for it.’
‘Yes,’ Richard concurred, a cunning glint in his eye. ‘I could post it on the company notice board.’
‘What an exquisite idea,’ said Helen, thrusting her finger into Beth’s warm softness.
‘Oh, no,’ Beth gasped. ‘Please no, Richard, the photograph was for you.’
‘Please no, Richard,’ Helen mocked, rotating her finger, ‘the photograph was for you.’
Beth looked into the cruel woman’s eyes. ‘Please, Helen, not that. Do anything you want, but not that. I would rather be thrashed for the way I behaved earlier.’
‘Did you hear that, Richard?’ the woman called over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving Beth’s. ‘She would rather be thrashed in front of the staff.’
‘No, I didn’t say that,’ Beth spluttered, almost in tears. ‘I meant I would rather be thrashed by you - by both of you.’
‘Mm, you’ll be thrashed all right,’ Helen said, withdrawing her finger and spitefully pinching the tender inside of one of Beth’s thigh, making the girl squeal miserably. ‘Hm, she’s somewhat squeamish,’ she sneered.
‘Now, come here, girl,’ Helen commanded, and Beth turned and followed the woman to the desk.
‘She’s a troublesome girl,’ Helen said to Richard, ‘and it is definitely time for her to feel the cut of the cane.’ She pressed Beth between the shoulders, and the girl had no choice but to bend forward and lean on the desktop, submissively presented before her seated boss. He surveyed the delicious site she presented for him, and then rose solemnly. There was a muffled exchange behind her, she heard the cane whistle viciously threw the air, and then her head jerked up from the polished mahogany surface and she had to clench her teeth to stop herself from crying out as the crack of the implement against her taut flesh resonated around the plush room. A searing pain bit across both buttocks and her whole body froze into tense rigidity, her eyes clamped as tig
htly shut as her jaw.
And so Beth was punished. Six times she heard the chilling sound and felt the scalding bite, and six times she jerked on the solid desk and suppressed the scream that threatened to wrench from her lungs.
When it was over her forehead rested on the top, silent tears dripping onto the blotting pad and spreading outward. Through conflicting emotions she for some reason wondered if the cleaners were in the building yet, and if so, whether they had heard her shameful chastisement.
A warm hand was on her thighs, between them, stroking them and easing them farther apart. The same hand slid up, making a slippery furrow through the lips of her sex and on upwards until it reached her anus. She felt that most intimate flower of her person being teased and probed by a delicate finger. She closed her eyes, aware only of the burning sensations from her bottom and the sensations being induced by the intrusive finger.
She was frustrated when it withdrew, but she cried out when the cane again bit with unerring accuracy and force against her already scalding buttocks. Maybe it was because she had already been beaten once, or because of the short interlude, or because it was a different hand holding the cane, but the six new strokes were worse than the first. She sobbed aloud, not caring who heard, or saw.
When at last the fire was withdrawn, the warmth remained. Slowly, but in a now familiar manner, the warmth spread through her loins and belly, through and over her sex, and up her stomach to her breasts, squashed against the cool surface of the desk.
The finger returned, but this time it skewered her sex and flexed itself in the warm moisture within. It withdrew and she felt it spread that same moistness on her anus. Several times it travelled back and forth, and each time her bottom was made wetter with her own juices until, on the last return, the finger penetrated the tight ring it had lubricated so efficiently.
It dallied there for a while, embedded to the second knuckle, moving around inquisitively, and then withdrew again to be replaced at the tiny entrance a moment later by something warmer, softer and broader. Beth knew what it was. Richard had promised he would do it some day, and today was the day, now was the moment.
Despite being highly aroused, it was hard for Beth to relax, knowing that Helen Cross was observing everything she and her husband did. Then warm hands grasped her by the hips, one each side, as the firm but flexible shaft pushed at Beth’s previously unopened backdoor. It was not to be denied by her chagrin or tightness. With one strong thrust her resistance was overcome, and Richard gained entry where no man had been sheathed before. Beth gasped and her back arched, lifting her breasts from the desk, astonished at the depth of her feelings.
If her body had initially resisted the invader, it was just as fierce in holding him there now her resistance was overcome. Her sphincter muscles clamped the penis in place, proving to be a far stronger vice than that of the muscles of her vagina. Slowly he used the weight of his body to ease himself forward, forcing his way deeper into Beth’s soul. She closed her eyes, tears wet on her cheeks, oblivious now to all around her. His long slow thrust was halted only when his groin pressed against the punished flesh of her buttocks, his body heat making the weals burn yet again, and Beth suspected that no one, no thing, could ever possess her as she was being possessed at that moment.
Slowly, even gently, he began to ease himself back and forth. At the same time his fingers slid round her hips to the front, pressing between her thighs and the desk, combing through her pubic hair, gently pulling apart the lips of her sex. Two fingers from one hand stroked the eager nub of her clitoris, while two from the other hand plunged deep inside her.
He pumped back and forth, with each thrust slapping his groin against the sore cheeks of her bottom, and grinding his fingers deeper into her sex. Beth knew it could not last long. Her whole body felt like liquid; molten lava before it erupts. At the second she knew her climax was coming it would not be denied, but the vigour of his movements was such that he slipped out of her grasping insides. Beth whimpered low in her throat, feeling robbed of a precious prize. Moments later it was back, firmer and more rigid than before. Again fingers combed through her pubic hair until they found her swollen clitoris. Beth gave herself over once again to the pulsing movement in her bottom and the probing in her sex. The volcano erupted with what felt like a thunderclap, sending seismic shockwaves shooting through her body.
What seemed an eternity later - to Beth, at least - she raised her head and opened her eyes. It seemed amazing that the world was still in the same place, and she felt too drained to move from where she sprawled.
No words were spoken; none were needed. The only sound in the room was that of combined, strained breathing.
Eventually Helen Cross did disturb the heavy silence that draped across the scene. ‘I’m feeling quite jealous,’ she said with a melodramatic sulk, her manicured fingers moving to the fastening of her skirt, ‘and as recompense for the use of my husband, I think it only fair that you, little missy, show your appreciation and do something about it...’
Chapter 10
Beth savoured the last spoonful of her lobster bisque and daintily dabbed her lips with the crisply laundered white napkin. She looked around, admiring the trappings and pleasures of wealth, or at least of a generous expense account. The well spaced tables covered in heavy white linen and gleaming silver; the willing but not obsequious waiters; the trolleys of roasted meats and creamy puddings; the dim lighting and the well dressed clientele. And Beth did not doubt that she belonged. A year ago she would have pretended and felt uncomfortable; now she felt entitled to all this and more.
She brought her gaze back to the man across the table and found him looking at her. ‘It was very good of you to invite me to lunch, Chester,’ she said sweetly. ‘I did not expect it. To be frank, I did not even expect to see you again.’
He broke some bread on his plate. ‘I’ll be frank, too,’ he said with a shy smile. ‘I don’t like those artificial boardroom meetings, total strangers trying to impress each other - trying to impress me. I would not employ anyone for any job unless I knew him or her, personally. If I have learned nothing else in the last two or three years, I have learned that.’
‘Don’t take people at face value?’ Beth asked.
He nodded. ‘Something like that. Maybe I am just a bad judge of character, but I do need time to get to know someone before I can trust them.’
Beth did not need her female intuition to get the message. Over her sole Veronique and his steak and kidney pudding, she gently quizzed him about his upbringing and his private life. More than enough had already been published about the public face of Chester Hampton.
He had been born in Norwich but was taken at the age of seven by his parents to Philadelphia, where his father took up an academic post. Chester was an only child, left largely to his own devices in a strange and alien world. Even before puberty he already showed an aptitude for electronic communication, and by the age of fourteen, he boasted with a shy smile, he had hacked into the CIA’s mainframe at Langley, Virginia.
‘A life of crime beckoned?’ Beth teased, and was amused that Chester took her seriously. He shook his head solemnly.
‘I thought I could make more money going straight,’ he said openly.
‘And you seem to have been right,’ she said, refilling his glass with chilled champagne. ‘Do you get a chance to spend any of your money?’
‘I have a yacht moored on the Potomac.’
‘And a crew of six blondes, I bet,’ Beth teased again.
‘One of them is blond, but he’s a man. As are the other two.’
‘So there is no Mrs Hampton, or Mrs Hampton-to-be?’
He shook his head, but as Beth studied the dessert menu, the question hung in the air. He dabbed his mouth too, and then fussed with the napkin, putting it first on his lap and then beside his plate.
‘No dessert for me, thank you, Beth.’ He paused wh
ile coffee cups magically appeared and coffee was poured. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, why I thought we should meet alone.’
Beth looked puzzled. He fiddled with the sugar bowl and the coffee spoon and it dawned on her that he was nervous, maybe even embarrassed.
‘I don’t go out much on my own because people recognise me,’ Chester said. ‘I don’t get a chance to meet people, just as me.’
She nodded encouragingly, whilst smiling to herself; and incredibly rich man and he needed encouragement to open his mouth and talk.
‘So, how can I help?’ she prompted.
He sipped his coffee and dabbed his lips again. ‘The photographs yesterday,’ he said. ‘There is a girl I would like to meet.’ She smiled openly this time, and he rushed on trying to cover his embarrassment. ‘It could be the prelude to an advertising campaign,’ he gabbled, ‘if I liked her...’
‘But not necessarily a prelude to an advertising campaign, hm, Chester?’ Beth interrupted, still smiling.
‘Um, no, not necessarily,’ he admitted. ‘More like a date at first; a blind date, if you like.’
She placed her hand on top of his on the table. ‘That might be possible,’ she said gently, trying to soothe him. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but no promises.’
‘Of course,’ he burbled, ‘I know this is highly unorthodox, asking you, perhaps even unethical.’
She patted his hand. ‘It’s okay, Chester. Really, I don’t mind. No one need know. Which of the four did you like the most?’
He frowned. ‘Four?’
‘The four in the Rybix photographs,’ she said patiently, teasing him without mercy. ‘Which of them did you like?’
‘Oh, no, not them,’ he said, looking even more embarrassed. ‘The one in that other campaign you mentioned.’ When Beth appeared confused, he added furtively, ‘The one in the photographs you dropped on the floor.’
‘Oh,’ Beth said. She stared at him for a full ten seconds, and then picked up her briefcase and handbag. ‘You must excuse me, Chester; I need to powder my nose. I’ll be back in a sec.’