‘Sort of.’
‘Well, maybe, if you lick my shoes, you’ll remember better.’
‘I hardly think …’
‘Do it.’
‘I’m the one used to giving orders young lady.’
‘Not any more,’ said Jeanie and pulled out the long hard cane from her handbag. ‘Lick them.’
He stared at the cane, a look of defiance in his eyes. ‘No.’
Sharply, she brought the cane down on his skinny backside. As he shot forward with the pain and squealed, she noticed his prick get even bigger. ‘Oh I see,’ she said smoothly, ‘you like that do you?’
Insolently he stayed silent. She pulled her arm back, to its longest extent and brought the cane crashing back down on his arse. It made a cracking sound that made her heart race. He was whimpering now.
‘Lick my shoes.’ He looked up at her, his face red with resentment and gingerly put out his tongue. ‘That’s it,’ she cajoled, stroking his feeble little buttocks with the cane and imagining his arsehole tweaking in anticipation. His tongue darted out like a snake and licked. ‘Faster.’ The faster he licked, the more turned on she became. Gradually, knowing he was watching her, she pushed her finger inside her damp thong and started to whisk. ‘I’ll bet you’d like to stick your finger in here, wouldn’t you? Bet you’d like to get your tongue in too.’
His eyes lit up in anticipation. ‘Bet you thought that’s what was going to happen when we came up here. Trouble is, Mr Sloane,’ she said, rubbing away at her clit, feeling it swell and throb, ‘I remember what a foul piece of work you were. I remember standing on this stage as a poor, ungainly ten-year-old and hearing you tell everyone how ugly I was. How stupid and ungainly, how pathetic I was and how I’d never amount to anything.’ As Jeanie spoke, she watched his face, an expression of mingled desire and horrified anxiety. Fingering herself and watching his dick swell almost to bursting point, she thrust her muff near him, grabbing his hair in her hand and yanking him close while her finger darted in and out. As she watched with total satisfaction, his tongue darted towards her, desperate to get a taste, but she yanked him back. In one juddering movement, she came over her busy digit and, pulling it out, wiped her sticky juices all over his face.
‘Now, it’s your turn.’
Again, he didn’t know what to think. Again, she had him totally in her power. He struggled, his wrists rubbing red and raw. She bought the cane up again, thwack and watched both his mouth and his dick twitch. Again it came up and again, sharply on his trembling buttocks. One more should do it. Again, she pulled back, her breasts bouncing with the effort and slammed the unyielding length of bamboo against his buttocks just as his prick exploded, firing hot sticky come in a jet across the stage.
His prick jerked, and shuddered and died, shrinking back till it was almost invisible.
‘I’ve waited a long time for that,’ she said, slipping her underwear, top and skirt back on. She installed the cane back neatly in her handbag and started to walk away.
Exhausted, hardly able to speak, unutterably miserable, he cried out, ‘Stop. Untie me. Please, I beg you. You can’t let them find me like this.’
‘Why not?’ She asked, strolling away. ‘That was all part of the plan.’
As she walked through the double doors which led to the lift, suddenly, she heard a quiet but distinct round of applause. There, leaning against the wall in the shadows, having seen everything through the tiny glass window in the door, was Lee Sheffield, a wicked grin on his face. Jeanie flushed pink at the discovery. Would he tell? Would she get done for assault? Would he rush in and release Mr Sloane?
‘That was the best bit of theatre I’ve seen in a long time. Jeanie, isn’t it?’ She looked down and saw that his crutch was swollen with a magnificent hard-on.
She smiled a wicked smile and realised that frigging herself hadn’t nearly satiated her throbbing desire. ‘Are you up for some fun too?’
‘Sure’, he said, ‘but I think we’d better go to my flat. I like to be in control when I’m around naughty little girls’. So saying, he took her bag with the cane hard inside it and led her away into the dark starless night.
No One Ever Guesses, And No One Guesses Now
by Lana Fox
Tonight, I wear a dress that clings to me like oil. I’ve never felt as physical as this. When I got home, I showered with that gel – the stuff you bought in Paris last July. It smells of dry vanilla and feels like something lewd, especially when it lathers and spreads. The water on my skin, the scent, the steam, my head thrown back, my wet mouth wide … I longed to touch myself, but made myself stop. I held the shower against my buttocks, made them red.
Though I hate office parties, I get here early. I’m warm beneath my dress. My stockings dig a little. (Oh, I’ve missed you! Phone-sex doesn’t work! It’s your touch, can’t you see that? You left me here alone!) And now, I’m turning. I don’t need to think. I sense you there behind me, at the door. The bar is crowded, but I can see you. Your neat black hair, your wide, green eyes. Even from this distance, I can feel your stare. It pushes right into me, tells me what you want.
We don’t meet up. We hardly talk. The secret’s half the thrill. No one knows about us, and no one ever will. You’ve kissed me in the closet, in the kitchen, in the hall. You’ve spanked me after hours, in the silence of your room. But no one ever guesses. And no one guesses now. We circulate, we drink. You pass me, brush my arm. Three times, you touch me in a way that makes me ache. Once, at the bar, you slip your hand across me, just above my buttocks where I will soon be spanked, and the heat from your fingers forces through my flesh and I arch and push against you, full of need. Then, later, when I’m talking to Alissa from Sales, you brush against my arm so I can smell your skin. (That cologne I bought you, the one that smells of spice – it makes me want to lick you, feel your grip.) And at the end of the evening, when the wine has made me flushed, you grab me through my skirt. I gasp, almost moan, but my boss doesn’t notice – she’s busy talking, like she always is – and you keep on touching me, stroking through my layers, making me so wet my thighs are moist. Then someone calls you over and you move away, and I’m lost without your touch.
At the end of the night, when people start to leave, you’re still talking to Matt and Jimmy Sykes. I walk across and join you. Matt’s telling a joke. All of us are laughing. I touch your wrist. I think if you don’t hurt me within the next few minutes the fire in me will burst. But you don’t respond; your eyes stay trained on Matt’s. Inside my head, I tell you you’re cruel. Not so, you reply. This is how we like it. And you’re right, oh yes, you’re right …
At last, you give the cue. You glance at your watch. “It’s getting late,” you say. “Got jetlag. Better split.”
“Me too,” I add.
You turn to me, with your wide, certain eyes. Your mouth curls up a little. I’ve always loved your smile: dry, secretive. I want to bite your lip.
“Shall I get your coat?” you say.
“That’s okay. I’ll come.”
We walk to the coats together. The cloakroom’s by the door – an open closet that dips into the wall. You glance across at the drinkers, before pushing me in. I grab the soft layers, moan into their depths; feel you pressing onto me, raising my skirt. My flesh feels so soft. I’m aching, I’m a burn. How I’ve missed your hands! How I’ve dreamed of this! I tried, with a ruler, to spank myself like you, but it was merely pain with no relief. I couldn’t fake the passion, couldn’t fake the need – without you, I’m not real. Now I close my eyes. I pray into the air: Do it, please do it, afraid you might tease; but you touch my stockings, push your fingers into me, whisper, “Oh, I’ve missed you,” and spank me – once, then twice. My lips part. My breath grows hot. My body jolts with every slap. I push myself against you. I hear you moan and gasp. My legs feel weak beneath me; but you – you feel strong. Your spanks become insistent. My buttocks feel sore; but I want harder-harder, so the pleasure takes the pain. And you know it
– yes, you know it – because you step right in, and I feel you hard against me as you hit me with your palm. You bite my neck. You gently pull my hair. You touch my mouth and I suck your fingertip. All the time, you’re hitting me, swiping at my flesh, so my sex and thighs are wet. And behind us, all those people with their superficial jokes and their stupid power-struggles and their money and their lies, and here are you and I, dirty and alive, stuffed into a corner, getting laid.
But you stop. You pull away. I melt into the coats. “More!” I tell you. “More!” But you stroke down my thigh. I grab a fake-fur and drool into the pelt. I pant, I plead. But you are hard and cruel. You will make me long for you. You will make me wait. And you know that’s exactly what I want.
“We’ll get a cab,” you say. “I know you like cabs.”
And yes, you’re right. But I tell you this is urgent!
We emerge from the closet. No one seems to notice. But I am a mess, my hair in my face. My stockings rub my thighs, my dress rubs my breasts – each movement makes me sensitised and warm. I whisper in your ear as we walk from the bar, “Aren’t you turned on? Say it! You look so cool and calm!” So, in the shadows, you take my hand and place it on your crotch. You’re harder than a paperweight. You whisper, “There. You see?” You cup my face and say, “I always, always want you,” then you walk me to the cab and help me in.
Behind the driver’s screen, you turn me on my side. On the door, there’s a bar. I grab this, bite my lip. You reach around my front, lifting up my skirt. You finger me, dip into me, make me sigh and arch. You paddle at my buttocks with the flat of your hand. You play with me. I feel you, stiff against my thigh. You spank me harder, harder. I’m about to come. The heat in me is rising. Pain and pleasure merge. Each bump in the road makes your fingers jolt more deeply. Each turn round a bend makes you fall against my flesh. My eyelids flutter. I whisper, “Yes, oh yes…” And then the cab stops and you abandon me again.
But once we’re in my flat, you slam the door shut, and you press me up against the shelf and raise my thigh. And in one move, you’re pushing up inside me and your groan is long and beautiful – it makes me lose control. You thrust and I grab you. You spank me, then you bite. I pull you harder into me. I tell you to be harsh. You say that I am perfect. You say that I am yours. You hurt me with such passion that I come.
In the bathroom, I step from my dress. Everything is sticky. Everything is wet. You run the shower, then strip yourself down, and we kiss with our tongues through the steam. You run a finger down my jaw and tell me I am dirty. I laugh into your eyes, and tell you you’re worse. And, beneath the spray, you rub me with gel – the stuff you bought in Paris last July. I feel your hands all over me, lathering me up.
We glance down at my buttocks.
They are red.
My New Personal Assistant
by Eva Hore
My boss had employed a new Personal Assistant for me. Her name was Myra. She was efficient and quiet, seemed shy and reserved. We worked together well and I was pleased, as working took my mind off my own personal problems.
A long weekend was coming up. I’d just split with my partner and wasn’t interested in a new relationship or even going out. I hated the fact I’d be alone. It had been so much easier having someone in my life even though we’d had our share of problems.
As five o’clock drew near it was just Myra and me left as we made our way to the elevators.
‘So what are you up to this weekend?’ I asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘What about you, Vanessa?’
‘Same,’ I said.
‘Why don’t you come over to my place? We’ll watch videos. You can sleep over,’ she said enthusiastically.
Sleep over. I hadn’t had a sleep over since I was a little kid. I peered at her and she seemed so eager, so I thought, why not? We could sit around in our pyjamas eating popcorn, watching television, have a little girly night.
‘Sure, I’d love to,’ I said.
Her eyes lit up, ‘Really? Oh we’ll have so much fun.’
So that’s how it came about that we were lying on her bed in front of the television drinking way too much champagne and eating delicious delicacies, still dressed in our work clothes, minus the shoes.
She popped a movie in and jumped back onto the bed, her skirt riding up high on her thigh. I could see the tops of her stockings and just caught a quick glimpse of her panties. We were laughing about something and didn’t notice the credits of the video. Next thing I knew we were watching porn.
‘Oops,’ she laughed. ‘Wonder how that got in there?’
‘Hmm, bondage. I’ve not seen one of these. You into that sort of thing?’
‘What?’ she spluttered. ‘I … er … don’t know where it came from.’
‘It’s OK,’ I said, ‘I have a few at home too.’
‘What … er …oh. Do you want to watch it?’
‘Sure, why not. Never know, I’m might learn something new,’ I laughed as I eyed her perky breasts.
As the movie played I found myself getting turned on. I’d never considered being tied up or whipped but the thought of tying up someone else really appealed to me.
‘Wonder what it’s like being staked out like that,’ Myra muttered.
‘Why don’t I tie you to the bed and you can let me know?’ I said, eager for her to comply.
‘Yeah, OK,’ she said, a little too quickly.
‘Take off your stockings,’ I said. ‘I’ll use them.’
As quick as a flash she’d unclipped them. I knew she was a little bit drunk and that I shouldn’t take advantage of her, but I couldn’t help myself.
‘Just open your arms and legs and spread both wide,’ I said.
She giggled as I tied her securely to the bed.
I looked over my shoulder at the video and saw a guy munching down on this woman’s pussy and I thought, why not?
Pulling aside her panties, I looked hungrily at her pussy.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’ she said.
‘Just following what they’re doing on the video. Come on, it will be fun to experiment a little, won’t it?’
‘Oh, OK,’ she said in a quiet voice.
I lay between her outstretched legs, her pussy visible to me. I’d never gone down on a woman before and found myself excited at the prospect. Her pussy lips protruded nicely as I pulled her panties across, causing them to bulge forward. I could just see her inner lips poking out of her slit and, with the curiosity of a child, I tentatively stretched my tongue forward, to have my first lick, my first taste.
I felt her pull back and she moaned, ‘Oh!’
I wasn’t sure if she liked it or not so I did it again.
‘Oh, yeah,’ she moaned.
Encouraged, I licked harder, my tongue roaming around as my fingers pulled her outer lips apart.
‘Oh, yeah, that feels good,’ she breathed sexily, all the girlishness now gone.
Her scent wafted up to me and I nuzzled in further, licking in between her folds as my fingers began to explore inside her.
‘Oh, man,’ I breathed. ‘You’re so wet. This is turning you on, is it?’ I chuckled.
‘You bet, bitch,’ she hissed at me.
Whoa, I thought. Where did that come from?
‘Lick me. Lick me hard, you fucker,’ she swore. ‘Tear my shirt off and suck my tits.’
Not wanting to come across too innocent, after all I was her boss, I tore her shirt apart, buttons flying everywhere and exposed her heaving breasts.
‘Suck them,’ she demanded.
Knowing she was at my mercy, I hesitated, wanting her to beg. I ran my hands over the swell of her breasts before inching my fingers inside her bra and giving each nipple a tweak.
‘Suck them,’ she demanded, wriggling desperately.
She had on one of those bras that opened at the front and as I unclipped them her breasts literally popped forward, her nipples hard and rigid.
‘Suck them hard,’ she
whispered throatily. ‘Suck them fucking hard.’
Lowering my head I took a nipple into my mouth, rolled it around my tongue, my saliva slipping all over it, while I crushed the other.
‘Oh, God, yeah,’ she breathed. ‘Suck it in, baby.’
Not wanting her to call all the shots I pulled back.
‘Hey,’ she complained. ‘Get back here.’
I looked down at her, practically naked, and decided I’d make her wait. Wanting to come across as the dom I left her there while I looked for things to heighten this experience like I’d seen on many of my own videos.
‘Untie me,’ she demanded just as I spied a pair of scissors on her dresser.
Lifting her skirt to her waist, I put the outside blade against her skin just above her slit. She sucked in her breath not daring now to speak. I eyed her mischievously, smirking while she licked her lips, wondering if I’d harm her.
In one quick movement I slashed her panties from her, exposing her completely. Now her pussy and her tits were mine for the taking.
‘Please,’ she begged, tugging at the restraints, ‘make love to me.’
I threw myself between her open thighs, my tongue lapping at her. I wiggled between her cheeks trying to lick her hole and then slathered her with saliva and made my way up over her slit and under her hood, where her clit was nestling as though waiting for me.
‘Oh yeah baby. Ohhh, yeah. Tickle it, rub your tongue up against it, yeah like that. Now with your finger … oh yeah …that’s it … don’t stop … ohhh … ohhhh … don’t stop … I’m coming … coming … ahhh.’
With my finger rubbing like mad I watched as her juices poured out of her. Fascinated, I lapped them up. Her scent intoxicated me and I went wild, nuzzling into her cunt, grabbing her breasts, squeezing them, pinching the nipples while I smothered myself in her pussy.
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