Shamed

by Theresa Taylor

  Samantha stepped out into the reception area where Hilary Carney sat at her desk typing out a letter on her desktop computer. Hilary glanced up at her, then took a double take and sat back in her chair, taking in the view. Samantha’s face blushed heavily and she could feel the blood pulsing in her cheeks as a Hilary’s mouth creased into a belittling smirk. Trash. Slut. Any of those type of words could have been read into that smirk as far as Samantha was concerned. Hilary knew; she was certain of that. Samantha tried to hurry as fast as she could towards the elevator. As she did so the cell ‘phone rang in her hand. She answered it.

  “Hello Samantha.” McDonnell chuckled. “Now keep the phone to your ear so you can hear me.”

  On her way in she hadn’t really noticed the other secretaries and PA’s positioned outside of the director’s offices. Now each one seemed to be staring at her, their attention drawn by the ring tone and the trek appeared to take an age as she carefully stepped her way across the floor, stopping several times to retain the balls. She must have looked incredibly odd as she stepped, paused, crossed her legs, stepped her way to the elevator doors. Her blushing red face, cum soaked blouse sticking to her in places and revealing far too much, Samantha was certain they could all see and all knew what she had done. She squeezed the car keys into her palm hoping the pain would distract her.

  Finally in the elevator she stood facing the back wall with her eyes shut until she heard the doors close. Then she turned and pressed the button for the garage.

  She stood now with her knees pressed together, relieved that she was not reliant entirely on her own muscle capabilities to stop the balls bursting out of her. She considered taking them out, McDonnell would never know, but her jacket was in his office and she had nowhere to put the soaking, slippery things. There was another problem too. The effect of walking with the balls rolling around internally had caused her to become even more aroused. At one point as she reached the elevator she was astounded to realise that she was having to suppress an orgasm.

  “You’re in the elevator.” McDonnell’s voice came through the handset. “Good. You are doing well Samantha, although you do sound a little breathless.”

  She was about to respond when suddenly her heart jerked into her throat. She realised the elevator was slowing. The elevator voice announced it was stopping on the 8th floor. She braced herself as the doors opened. A noisy chattering group of people squeezed into the lift, oblivious to her. She was pushed back against the wall as they jostled for position and she found herself pressed up against the bulk of a large man, her right breast flattened against his shirt sleeve. She could have sworn he must feel her nipple poking into him. A woman stood directly in front of her with her back to Samantha and she felt the closeness of their bodies.

  Again McDonnell’s voice sounded in her ear. “You have company?”

  “Yes.” She said in as controlled manner as possible.

  “How many people? Is it a tight fit?”

  “Um, about six. Yes it is.”

  “Good. With your free hand I want you touch yourself Samantha. Can you do that without drawing attention to yourself?”

  What? She was startled by his request but fought to maintain control of her voice.

  “I don’t know. Probably not.” She said.

  “Good! You’ll have to be very deft and discrete then won’t you.” He said to her astonishment.

  Samantha looked around the lift with agonised eyes. None of them faced her, they were chatting amongst each other, though more quietly now.

  Pressing the car keys into the hand that held the cell ‘phone, she slowly eased her sweating palm down her side and felt for the edge of her skirt with her fingers. Finding it she slowly lifted the hem and gradually moved her hand up her thigh until it came to the crease of flesh at the top of her leg.

  “Samantha?” McDonnell again.

  “Yes; I’m trying.”

  Her nerves jangling she fixed her stare on the back of the woman stood in front of her. Her fingers traced the crease until they touched her labia.

  “Samantha?”

  Her fingers prised open her labia and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She touched her clitoris and held herself rigid for a moment as the man pressing against her adjusted his position.

  “Samantha? Are you touching yourself yet?”

  She had to clear her throat before the words would come out “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “Are you touching your clitoris?” The words sounded so callous she glanced around feeling that they all must have heard the tiny voice emitted from the handset. No one reacted.

  Samantha pressed her fingers between the folds of flesh and touched her clitoris. Immediately it responded and she felt herself tense with the excitement.

  “Yes, yes. I’m doing that.” Her tone had tightened and her breathing shortened. It felt so good. Her clitoris was begging her for more attention.

  “I want you to play with your clit, Samantha.” McDonnell’s voice was deep and quite.

  She had no idea why she was obeying him but Samantha began to circle her finger over her clit in a slow steady motion. Normally she would have been perturbed to be in such a confined space and so close to other people, in her present predicament even more so, but she realised instead that the proximity and the touching of bodies, as unavoidable and unintended as it was, was adding to her arousal. The balls squirmed around inside her and she had to hold her breath to control herself. She found the thought of her current predicament and the ignorance of those around her was a powerful turn on. It was a new sensation to her. What if she were to come right now? Right here amongst them. Would she be able to hide it, suppress it? Oh, God. What a thought. Or would she scream like a banshee as her orgasm flooded through her? What on earth would they think!

  “You sound breathless Samantha.” McDonnell said.

  Her response was more of a gasp. Her bottom lip was clamped firmly between her teeth. Her knees were starting to give way and she struggled to hold herself erect. She realised she was leaning more against the man whom her breast was pressed into. She felt an overwhelming desire to rub against him.

  “You sound very turned on.” McDonnell breathed into the earpiece.

  “Yes.”

  “Would you like to stop?” He asked her. She wasn’t sure if it was a trick. If she said yes, would he make her carry on? Again she was stunned by the man’s control over her, why was she letting him do this? And what if he did tell her to carry on? Would she do it?

  “You may stop then.” He told her. She was disturbed by her own disappointment.

  She slowly slid her hand away, her fingers wet; her clitoris screaming out to her to finish the job as she felt a trickle of her juices seep down between her thighs towards her knees. Her breathing was ragged and she fought keenly to bring it under control.

  The lift came to the ground floor and as the doors opened the group pushed out leaving her alone again. She quickly pressed the button to close the doors and felt the lift move downwards towards the garage.

  “Have your friends gone?” McDonnell asked her.

  “Yes.”

  “A shame. They might have enjoyed that if I’d let you carry on. You did want to carry on didn’t you?” It was a rhetorical question.

  Samantha didn’t answer. She wanted to scream at him. She didn’t know how he was making her do these things, even with the obvious threat to her career she should have just stood her ground. She felt like she had let it happen to her. She should have been stronger; fought back. But for some reason she had been complicit, she had co-operated. Despite what her conscience told her, her anxiety had taken a hold and she was acting irrationally; taking his orders and somehow, in a way that was far beyond her comprehension she was so aroused she couldn’t even trust herself to stop.

  As she stepped out into the stark concrete underground space she became aware of the smell of petrol and the change of temperature. It rose beneath her skirt reminding her of how wet she was
and she noticed her nipples contract; when she looked down they were incredibly prominent. She waited a moment to check that no-one was about before starting to walk towards her car. Her pulse was at a continuous high and she was struggling to go more than a few paces now without feeling a tremor begin to rise within her. She stood still a moment, knees pressed together and fought it off.

  “What are you doing Samantha?”

  “I’m trying to get to my car.” She gasped.

  “Good girl. Try not to come on the way there.” McDonnell sniggered.

  Slowly, short step by short step she reached her car. She opened the door and leaned in to retrieve her files, gasping loudly as she bent and the balls squirmed around inside her and her muscles fought to contain them in the new position. At one point she nearly gave in and it was only the thought of having to crawl on her hands and knees to retrieve one of the balls from beneath one of the nearby cars that gave her the determination to stop it. She knelt on the back seat for some moments, her hand between her legs, blocking their exit.

  “Do you have the files?”

  “Yes.” She groaned.

  “Ok, change of plan. I want you to return via the front entrance.”

  Carefully she managed to extricate herself from the car and standing straight once more realised the magnitude of her next objective.

  “No, please!” She begged him.

  “Samantha. Do as I ask.”

  “I can’t, please! It’s too far. I’ll have to go up the ramp and out onto the street.” She looked at herself, the dishevelled cum stained blouse, still damp and effectively see through in places.

  “Or, you can just get into your car and drive off home. We call it quits. We say goodbye.”

  Samantha whimpered. What do you sound like? She scolded herself.

  “Samantha?”

  “Ok. Ok, I’ll do it.”

  It was a slow, excruciating walk through the garage to the exit, the rampway required her to extend her stride as she climbed. Her lower body was now almost in spasm. She was desperate to come but knew if she did there was no way she could hold the objects within her. Carefully she eased her way to the top and finally stepped out onto the sidewalk. Now she had new dangers to contend with. Samantha took time to allow herself to steady her breathing, keeping a still as possible to minimise the effect of the balls. It was incredibly difficult. When at last she felt in check of herself again, she headed for the main entrance to the building. It wasn’t far but now she was aware of passing people looking at her. Some glanced candidly, others stared openly. Samantha simply tried to blank her appearance from her mind. Blank it all. As fast as she was able she reached the steps leading up to the large glass doors. She was brought up quickly by the sudden spasms in her womb and the wrench of a ball as it attempted to escape. Several people stopped and looked at her as she held on to a streetlight, her face in a grimace, fighting back her orgasm. Was it possible? Could you come in broad daylight out there on the street, amongst strangers? It was something that Samantha had never even contemplated before but right now she was certain that it would take very little for her to do exactly that.

  Slowly, steadily, driven as much by embarrassment now as by anger she worked her way up the steps. She stared blankly ahead, her concentration focused on maintaining control, ignoring the stares and curious looks of the pedestrians she passed. She could see old George on reception through the glass panes, sat behind his desk, watching her all the way as she climbed. As she passed by his desk, he nodded to her, his face wracked with curiosity but she ignored him. She summoned the lift and shut the doors quickly when it arrived. With her eyes shut and her head tilted back she recited a poem she knew as the elevator climbed back to the 15th floor. McDonnell spoke to her occasionally, confirming where she was, asking how she was feeling. How turned on was she? Were the balls still in place? Did she like it?

  When the doors opened it took her a few seconds to get going again. She could see McDonnell’s office and Hilary sat at her desk but it seemed so much further away than before. Her own juices were flooding down the inside of her thighs and down her legs, so much so that she could feel the moisture inside her shoes now. She took a step, the balls moved inside her. She felt a tremor. Please no! Please, just let me get back to the office!

  At last, holding herself rigid, taking tiny little pigeon steps she came alongside Hilary’s desk.

  “He said to go right on in.” She said.

  Samantha gave her a hateful look then trod carefully forward towards the door.

  “Oh, and by the way.” Hilary said turning to face her. She touched her finger to a place on her chin and gave a smarmy smile. “You have something on your chin.”

  Samantha reached up and dabbed at the spot indicated by Hilary. A long string of cum came away on her finger tip. Oh my God! She felt her face burn up, her stomach did a somersault, shame washed over her. She had walked through the building, been out in public; with McDonnells cum on her chin. Samantha turned away sharply and stormed into McDonnells office, Hilary’s laughter ringing in her ears. With the rapid movement and her mind distracted, she was too late to react to the renewed pressure of the balls bearing down. As she stood just inside the door a golden golf ball burst out from inside her and landed with a heavy wet thud on the carpet.

  McDonnell was stood beside his desk. He glared at her and then at the golf ball. She was panting and visibly shaking, fighting to hold back the pent up explosion within her.

  “Samantha? I’m really disappointed.” He said.

  “You fucking bastard!” she rasped breathlessly.

  He laughed loudly and paced towards her. “Sit down on the couch.” He ordered as he took the cell phone and the Carson Accounts file away from her.

  Slowly she made her way over to the couch, her knees shaking.

  “Take off your clothes Samantha.” He ordered.

  “Go fuck yourself!” she cussed back.

  “All of them Samantha.” He ordered, ignoring her. “Take them all off.”

  She dragged a sleeve across her flushed face, wiping a tangle of hair from her eyes. He stood silently waiting.

  Belligerently she stripped off her blouse, feeling it peel away from the bonding semen that made it cling to her breasts and stomach. She wriggled out of her skirt until it dropped and then kicked it across the room.

  “Come on then!” She yelled at him. “Take me. Take what you want and then leave... me... alone!” The last three words were dragged out in emphasis. “Just fuck me and get it over and done with!”

  “Sit down.” He said quietly.

  She sat – feeling her nakedness, her vulnerability now amplified; if Hilary was to walk in now!

  “How are you feeling Samantha?” he asked. She grimaced and shook her head. “Let me guess. Embarrassed? Ashamed? Molested? Can’t believe that anyone can treat you like this and get away with it?”

  Her eyes met his in a long steady stare.

  “Aroused?”

  “Who said you can get away with it?” She spat.

  “You are aroused aren’t you? You are hating me like there is no tomorrow but......you are desperate to fucking come. Am I right Samantha?” She turned her head away from him cursing his intuition. “You are desperate to come right? You want to me say that you can.”

  She looked at him again, her eyes betraying her now. She had been given hope, a hope of appeasing her overwhelming need, of the gratification that the offer promised.

  “I’d like you to put yourself in my shoes for moment Samantha.” He began. “Imagine you are the boss of the company and you have spent years nurturing an account with a client who brings millions of dollars to your business every year.” He paused a moment for her to consider this. “Then one day the account manager screws up. Fucks up the figures and leaves you in an almighty hole. The client is pissed, you are embarrassed. Highly fucking embarrassed! And there is a risk that the client may take his business elsewhere.”

  “I’m sorry.” S
amantha said weakly. She was exhausted, her emotions roller coasting between concern over the account and her apparent failure and the almost uncontrollable state of arousal she was in.

  “What would you do Samantha? How would you react?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on! How would you respond to that Samantha? If one of your team fucked up like that?”

  “I’d have his ass.” She said, wriggling on the couch trying to control the two heavy balls that still tormented and teased her inside. She wasn’t sure that sitting down was any easier than standing when it came to holding them in.

  “You’d have his ass.” McDonnell repeated her words quietly.

  “Yes.” She said almost immediately but it was far too late as she realised the trap she had just walked into. “Oh, no! no, no, no. Don’t even think......”

  “Who’s giving the orders here Samantha? You ?”

  “No, she said stymied by the catch she was falling into. “You do; but there’s no way....”

  “So close Samantha.” McDonnell interrupted. “So near to closure on this thing. One more little thing and then we hang it out to dry. Forget it. Brush it under the carpet. Your choice, Samantha.”

  “But......but I’ve never....” She stared up at him. He was serious. She could read it in his face. As her eyes fell she noticed the definition of his cock, hard and erect, straining within his trousers. Her arousal called to her again and the damned balls inside her wouldn’t stay still.

  “Over?” She asked weakly. “Then it’s finished?”

  “Finito.” He confirmed brightly.

  He told her to stand, she followed his instructions now as if in a trance. He turned her to face the couch and made her kneel on it. Her heart was pounding once again in her chest, her head screaming at her to wake up and get out of this situation. Her clitoris screamed out for her to let him do it.