Risky Business

Chapter 1

Technically, Ryan wasn't a co-worker. We just worked for the same company in the same building on the same floor. All the women in the office talked about him, especially how good looking he was, and I obviously agreed though I never thought that flashing a smile here and there or having quick coquettish conversations would lead to anything. Eventually, though, he asked me to lunch, and we got along so famously that I agreed to meet for a quick glass of wine after work and before you knew it those lunches and after work drinks became a regular thing. It wasn't anything serious and it went on for weeks. At the time I thought they were just harmless fun get-togethers before going home to our spouses.

But I began to fantasize about Ryan all the time. It's not that I was in love with him or wanted to leave my husband and marry him. I'd been happily married for six years, after all, and had never once contemplated straying. No, it wasn't lust. I rather think I was addicted to the illicit thrill of flirting with someone not my spouse. It was so much fun playing at being naughty right under our unsuspecting coworkers' noses that I just couldn't stop even when it started to become more than a game. Work was suddenly interesting. I rushed to get there early in the morning and the weekends seemed to drag by. I laid awake thinking of new ways to torment Ryan and was surprised at how dirty and devious my mind could be.

Like the time I slinked up to him doe-eyed and sensuous in the break room while he was getting coffee, leaned in as if for a kiss, then brusquely said "excuse me" and walked right on past with a brush of my boob leaving him flat footed and flustered. Or the time in the crowded elevator when I managed to stand directly in front of him, "accidentally" dropped my binder, and, bending to pick it up, made sure that the bulge in his Dockers pressed into the cleavage of my buttocks. I swear I felt it twitch.

One day we happened to meet in the foyer to the restrooms when with a conspiratorial leer and wink he slipped me a folded piece of paper. I locked myself in a cubicle and read while my stream hissed noisily into the toilet:

It read, "Good girls get kissed. Bad girls get spanked. And you are very good at being bad."

Oh, gosh! How did he guess my secret fantasy? My husband was nice and considerate and thoughtful, but just once I'd like someone to take charge of me, to be rough with me, to bend me squirming over his lap and spank my bare bottom until it sang. Just thinking about it caused a little jolt in my groin.

I sat for a moment reading and rereading, then leaned back on the toilet, spread my lips, and deliberately stroked my moistening pussy until it thrilled. I came with a gasp then dug a pen from my purse and wrote,

"Maybe you should spank me, because when I read your note, I did something very, very bad. And I never learn without proper punishment."

I got the feeling that he timed his exit to coincide with my own. We exchanged smirks before I thrust the note back into his hand and returned to my desk, excited in a new kind of way.

Later that afternoon I was looking up some old invoices in Records Retention. The security guards had partitioned a large closet off the storeroom into a small changing area complete with lockers and a tiny, green-tiled shower. A naughty impulse swept common sense aside and I hiked the skirts of my dark grey sweater dress above my bare thong-pantied bum, backed up to the full-length mirror and snapped a quick picture with my iPhone. I texted the picture to Ryan with the caption,

"Hide and seek!

Do you like my butt?

Find me in ten minutes

and I'll make you strut."

OK, Emily Dickinson I'm not. But seconds later my phone chimed, and I read his response out loud:

"Bree, you're a bad, bad girl,

I'll have that bum.

Ready or not,

here I come!"

I laughed merrily to myself as I imagined Ryan frantically searching.

I returned undiscovered to my desk twelve minutes later and innocently resumed work. It was the naughtiest thing I'd done so far in my priggish life, and the wickedness of it all was delicious. I was early to the pub but Ryan was there already, watching for me.

"Okay, Bree, where were you?" he demanded, without so much as a hello. "Was it somewhere in the basement? I looked everywhere I could think." I cackled evilly and his face turned cold. "So you think being bad is funny? Do you think you can tease me like that and escape unpunished? Watch yourself, little girl. Pay back is coming."

Sure enough, next day I was punching buttons on the copier when out of the blue something cracked a stinging swat on my posterior. I shrieked in indignation and whirled to find Ryan grinning vindictively and wielding a flexible metal ruler.

"Restroom. RIght now. Wait for my text." He turned without waiting for a response and left me rubbing my humiliated bottom with both hands.

Thirty seconds later I was locked in a cubicle, intrigued. My phone alerted an incoming text.

"Hand over your panties, naughty girl. And don't keep me waiting."

What a day to be wearing an above-the-knee flounce skirt and four-inch heels -- a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen if ever I saw one. Did I dare? Something thrilled inside and impulsively I slipped off my undies before I could change my mind. Only then did I remember that the black thong I'd grabbed from my lingerie drawer as I dressed that morning sported a cute cartoon kitty with hearts for eyes and the caption,

"Eat Meowt!"

I stared in consternation at the kitty then lifted the crotch to my nose and caught a distinct whiff of my blossoming arousal. Would it turn Ryan on to know I was excited? Would suggestive panties scented with my most intimate fragrance torment him for the rest of the afternoon? Was I really so wanton? Was I actually such a tease?

I never did get those panties back.

Chapter 2

I couldn't keep it up. I was so hot and bothered all the time that I could scarcely get my work done. Several times as I futilely tried to concentrate on the computer screen I noticed a musky scent wafting through the air of my cubicle and nearly panicked at the thought of my co-workers catching a whiff. And was my husband getting suspicious that something was up? Surely the way I ambushed him every night on the way in the door, ripped his clothes off, then screwed him silly on the couch struck him as a bit out of character for me. I vowed that playtime had to stop before it was too late.

Unfortunately, my mind and my muff weren't on the same page.

The downfall came after weeks of excitement and increasingly risky behavior. Our 41-story building is one of those new designs featuring an eco-roof with a raised garden and jogging track overlooking a dizzying landscape of glass and steel towers, concrete canyons and Minute Maid Park in the heart of downtown Houston. Tucked in a grove of olive trees is a small building housing the elevator equipment room. I had tried the door many times looking for new ways to be naughty, but it was always locked. One day, though, as I strolled through the garden on my break I checked the door one more time -- and it opened easily under my hand!

I chuckled evilly at the discovery. Time for another round of Hide-and-Seek.

Ignoring the sign that said "DANGER -- ELEVATOR EQUIPMENT ROOM AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY" I slipped quickly through the metal door and snapped on the lights. Inside was a small stark foyer with a metal desk and chair on a clean concrete floor flanked by rows of humming gray cabinets and massive motors and machines that apparently raised and lowered the elevators. It was all very industrial and Steam Punk and no one was around. Perfect!

I quickly disrobed until I was quite naked and took several selfies by the machines, with levers and pulleys artfully concealing my indelicate bits. I quickly composed another silly poem and texted the whole batch to Ryan:

"I'm ready! Come find me!

I'm waiting for you,

My nipples are taut

And my nubbin is too.

Among the machines naked

I'll caper and flit.

Will my tricks keep me hid

for the least little bit?

If you should find what you seek

Before time does expire,

Then do anything to me

That your heart may desire!"

Two seconds later I was in a full-blown panic. What was I thinking? What if someone saw those pictures? What if he was to find me before the ten minutes was up? Would I actually let him..

It took less than a minute. The door crashed open and there Ryan stood leering in triumph. I squealed in surprise and scrambled to cover myself. How had he found me so quickly? It seemed impossible. There was no way he knew of this place!

Ryan seemed to have read my mind. "I was on the track when I saw you come up the stairs and disappear through the door of this building. I had just enough time to wonder, 'Why did Bree go in there?' when I got your text. At last-I found you before time expired! Are you going to renege on your promise?"

"You cheated!" I exclaimed. "You peeked while I was hiding! It doesn't count!" I crouched behind one of the machines and glared angrily over the top as he sat on the desk right beside my neatly folded clothes.

"Bad girl, your teasing has gone far enough and now it's time to pay up, Come here."

But I crossed my arms over my chest and stubbornly stayed put.

"Bree, If you ever want to see your clothes again, come here!" He commanded more forcefully, glowering expectantly.

I cursed and threatened and pleaded, but in the end what choice did I have?

"Okay," I said. "Screw it!" I never say 'screw it' but it was the most defiant thing I could think of at the moment. I came out from behind the machines, covering myself as best I could, and gingerly shuffled towards the desk. When I reached for my clothes, Ryan snatched my wrist and yanked me face down across his lap.

"Hey!" I struggled in sudden fear, but his forearm held me down.

"Hold still," he said, then- Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Four swats in quick succession, two on each vulnerable cheek. I cried out in outrage, kicking and squirming, trying to get up, to get away. But it was no use. He was too strong.

Finally I gave up and resorted again to pleading. "Don't do this to me. What do you see - a two-year-old?

"What I see is a stunning enchantress with a bombshell body who enjoys driving the guy who wants her insane with desire." His hand gently caressed my hair, then "Smack!" He spanked me again. "And I see a naughty, impudent imp who richly deserves punishment."

My nipples hardened and I started to suck in air to protest. He cut me off with another stinging strike to my bottom, then slowly and deliberately rained a succession of sharp blows on my defenseless posterior. I yelled and struggled and tried to fend him off, but, unbidden, a heady warmth spread through my belly and my clit tingled in response to his enthusiasm and I wasn't altogether sure that I wanted him to stop.

Finally, Ryan paused to rub a gentle hand over the sensitive, raw skin that he had so enflamed. "I see you seated on my lap, my hands cupping your breasts, squeezing your nipples as I devour your mouth."

I could feel his manhood struggling to break free from the confines of his trousers. Gently he continued to rub my bottom with his palm, and it felt soothing enough that I relaxed a little. That was a bad idea on my part. As soon as the tension went out of my body he spanked me again. Smack! I swore underneath my breath as he chuckled gleefully behind me.

"I see you bent over this chair, your perfectly toned bottom bare to my hungry gaze, your thighs spread on either side of my face and your pussy poised above my tongue." His finger found the hard nubbin of my clit and began to leisurely circle it while I moaned and squirmed. He no longer needed to hold me down.

"I see you kneeling between my legs, the huge bulge in my pants testimony of my arousal. I see you carefully undoing the button on my trousers with trembling fingers, then tugging my zipper down until you can reach in to spring my rod from confinement, thick and pulsing, rock hard and ready."

His finger on my clit increased its speed and pressure, occasionally dipping into my furrow in search of the lubricating fluids that flowed in abundance.

"I see your sweet mouth wrapped around my cock, your head bobbing as you take all of it into your clenching throat, your tongue running circles around the head, teasing me, coaxing me, goading me.."

He growled in frustration as his unoccupied hand struggled beneath me to free himself, then unceremoniously dumped me to my knees and pushed his penis against my lips, forcing it in. My conscience told me to struggle, to fight him, to run away, but it was if I was tied by invisible threads. I felt him growing bigger, harder; and I wanted nothing more than for him to fill my mouth, to fill my body, until nothing of me was left inside, just his magnificent dick.

He thrust into my mouth, triggering my gag reflex as the swelling head of his member pressed against the back of my throat. Reflexively, I grasped his shaft and began to bob my head, slowly at first, then faster, my tongue swirling around his glans, relishing the clear fluid that leaked from his opening, straining to take all of him in.

When the first jet of semen shot down my throat I clamped my lips around him and sucked for all I was worth as he grunted with pleasure above me. Spurt after spurt of hot, viscous goo shot into my mouth and, not knowing what else to do, I swallowed it all, barely pausing to breathe until the tension in Ryan's body released and he slumped, sated for the moment.

The world stopped. The machines hummed and motors kicked on and off.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I couldn't believe it was actually happening, after six years of faithful marriage. Ryan was still breathing hard, his body slumped in the metal chair but his eyes bright and alert and fixed on my nakedness. I should be thinking of my vows, but all I could imagine was how marvelous his cock would feel sliding in and out of my oh-so-ready cunt.

"Sit on the desk," he rasped. I complied. "Now, open your legs for me." My knees fell apart and I felt my engorged labia gape open. Every muscle in my body tensed with anticipation. My breath caught in my chest.

"Touch yourself."

"Wh-what?" I quavered.

"You heard me. Touch yourself like you do at home when you're very alone and your body is crying out for relief."

How had he known? Nobody knew that about me, even my husband. Whenever he asked if I pleasured myself, I always lied and told him no, but I knew I couldn't fool Ryan. Could I actually perform the act with a man watching from only two feet away?

Every muscle in my body tensed with anticipation. My heart thundered as my fingers danced a tattoo down my tummy then slipped into the slick seam separating my swollen lips. Gathering some of the copious lubrication, I set my hesitant fingertips to circling my clit, and even through my embarrassment I marveled at how rigid, how painfully sensitive it was. The "V" at the top of my furrow was so engorged with arousal that only the very tip peeked out. My flesh felt hot and heavy under my hand and I cupped myself, pressing my fingers into my folds.

"Stroke harder." His voice was soft and deep, the tone firm. I was being commanded, not asked. A perverse thrill shot through me, and I shivered.

His eyes followed my hand as I rhythmically kneaded the hard button of my clit. He leaned in close enough for me to feel his breath as a firm hand raised goose bumps on the inside of my thigh. I moaned at the cool touch of his caressing fingers and spasmed when he cupped my hand in his and forced me to press harder.

"Oh God." My exclamation tore out on a ragged breath, and I pressed my thighs together against the throbbing ache in my womanly parts. I wanted him with a desperate, clawing yearning that I had never experienced before, and it turned my blood into liquid desire coursing to every throbbing cell in my body.

"Don't stop," he said, tapping the inside of my sensitive thighs with his fingertips. I spread my legs a little, and he ordered, "Wider."

I heard my pulse in my ears as I parted my thighs further. He moved to stand between my spread legs, looking down at me. He was hard again, his prick jutting skyward through his open fly, proud and fully erect.

I stroked myself, letting my fingers wander to dip inside before tracing upward again coated in the evidence of my overwhelming desire. I smoothed the silky wetness over my clitoris, into the short, neatly trimmed strip of hair on my mound.

Wordlessly, Ryan squeezed his glans while he watched me rub my clit. I was using my palm now, fingers busy in my vagina, nearing my end. Being like this for him, my legs open, my pussy exposed and gleaming wet while he stood there fully dressed, spiked my arousal high and higher. I had done things for him that I'd never done for my husband and that knowledge excited me beyond anything I'd experienced before.

My thighs tensed, and I planted my heels firmly against the desktop. My orgasm wound ever tighter inside me, ready to spring and uncoil me from the inside out. A grunt of frustration escaped through gritted teeth as my hips rose of their own accord into the air. I was going to come, I was so close, I was going to come while he watched me, without him ever touching me, And I was so close.. So close --

"Stop," he barked.

Startled, I froze.

"I did not give you permission to come, Bree."

I lay stunned in mid-stroke, the first waves of my release already quivering through my body. Ryan stepped closer, grasped his rigid erection, and slipped inside me. His first thrust was to the hilt, filling me completely and causing me to cry out with pleasure. He held himself there, seeming to struggle for control, knowing that if he kept moving, that if he gave himself up to the exquisite tightness, the heat, he would explode.

When he began to move again it was if an intermission had ended. He was wild, untamed. The metal desk creaked in protest as he drove himself deeper. And when he came it was if both of us crumbled like sand, washed away in waves of passion until nothing was left but a shell spinning languidly in the diminishing flood.

Ryan finished dressing first. "We'd better not leave together," he said.

He paused at the door to make sure the coast was clear, then looked back.

"I'm sorry. So sorry." And I could see that he was. "He forced me to. I didn't have a choice."

Then he was gone, leaving me wondering exactly what he meant. And who was "he?"

Chapter 3

It had all been a setup, of course. Each of my little indiscretions and transgressions had been orchestrated, observed, and evaluated, all parts of a bigger plan. Co-opting Ryan had been simple.

All so very efficient.

Later I guessed that my role had been identified shortly after I had joined Bain Marron PLC as a sales support analyst. About that time, management became aware of the predilections of one Barbara Cummins, a high-level Health and Human Services official shepherding the bid selection process for the management of Government Purchase Card Programs worth nearly two billion dollars a year. The award process had wound along its tortuous way, winnowing contenders until only two bidders were left -- Bain Marron and OxfordIT.

But I hadn't put the pieces together by the time Laney, our Administrative Assistant, dropped by my cubicle and said in a low voice, "Mr. Martinez wants to see you. Now."

I had expected this summons ever since Ryan disappeared between one day and the next, office cleared, and his name expunged as if he had never existed. Now it was my turn, my once-promising career shredded before it really got started. What would I tell my husband, my friends, my father? How would we pay our bills? Where would I go after the inevitable divorce? I teetered on the brink of a dark chasm.

I followed Laney through a daze of sympathetic stares, whispers whirling in my wake like the swishing of wings. She knocked softly on an ominous oaken door and ushered me into the office sanctum of Mr. Martinez.

It was mind-blowing, a corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows and a panoramic view of the city that took one's breath away. It was large enough for a sitting area complete with rich leather couches and even a conference area with a walnut table and leather upholstered swivel chairs.

But I was not invited to sit. Mr. Martinez sat behind an ornate antique desk leafing through a thick manila folder, occasionally pausing to scrutinize a document. He was a rotund man, jowly and pasty with a wide frowning mouth and heavy-lidded, protruding black eyes like a loathsome toad. Several minutes passed before he deigned to notice me.

"Ah, Mrs. McDaniel." He heaved a pained sigh and studied me sympathetically. Whatever hope I harbored was drowning in a darkening mist.

"Laney said you wanted to see me." I finally croaked when the silence became unbearable.

"Yes, I do, Mrs. McDaniel." Then briskly as if reciting a long-rehearsed speech, "You are no doubt aware that the management of our company strongly believes that a work environment where employees maintain clear boundaries between personal and professional interactions is most effective for conducting business and enhancing productivity."

I nodded numbly.

"Although this policy does not forbid the development of friendships or romantic relationships between co-workers, it does establish boundaries as to how relationships are conducted during working hours and within the working environment." He extracted a sheet of paper from the folder on his desk and passed it to me.

"Is that your signature, Mrs. McDaniel?

It was the HR policy on personal and professional conduct. I nodded as tears formed. My career and marriage were crumbling into rubble with no way out.

"Did you understand this policy when you signed it, Mrs. McDaniel?"

I nodded miserably, unable to meet his eye.

He fumbled in the folder again, finally extracting a sheath of glossy photos. Slowly and deliberately, he scrutinized each one thoroughly before putting it face down in a neat pile on his desk while I agonized. Finally, he looked up.

"Mrs. McDaniel, these photographs are stills taken from security cameras located in and around the elevator equipment room on the roof of this building. What they reveal is very disturbing -- very disturbing indeed." He leaned forward to nudge the pile across the desk towards me. "I am at a loss to explain your behavior as anything other than an egregious breach of company policies."

From the well of numbness that had become my soul I heard myself say, "I am so sorry, Mr. Martinez. I do not blame you for terminating me. I don't need to clean out my desk. I'll just go."

"Go?" Mr. Martinez seemed amused. "No one said anything about you going, Mrs. McDaniel. At least, not yet. We have plans for you, Mrs. McDaniel -- important plans. But first," He leaned back in his chair and smiled a predatory smile. "I need you to convince me of your commitment to your job and this company."

Like a sudden punch in the gut I knew suddenly what that meant. For a moment he sat, greedily devouring me with his heavily lidded beetle eyes. Then he stood, and, casually, walked around his desk and stood in front of me.

I looked up at him. The dread and revulsion must have shown clearly on my face, but he smiled that unpleasant smile again, then asked: "Mrs. McDaniel? Are you indeed committed to the success of our company?"

I searched for a sign of pity or mercy in his eyes but found none. My stomach lurched as I sank to my knees in front of him, undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants and fumbled at his zipper., Tears began to trickle as I fished out his stubby lump of a cock and held it in my hand, loath to do what I must do.

"You terminated Ryan." I stated flatly, staring at his wrinkled thing almost hidden by wiry pubic hair.

Mr. Martinez chuckled. "Yes, although depending on your actions in the coming days he could enjoy a sizeable severance package and my personal employment recommendation."

I glanced at his smug smile. He had me and he knew it.

I sighed and gave a tentative lick to his hardening cock. The only way forward was to get this over with as quickly as possible. I sucked the tip into my mouth and swirled my tongue around it, eliciting a low moan of appreciation. He tasted of sour urine. One hand held his shaft and the other cupped his ponderous, hairy balls as I began to stimulate him in earnest.

I heard Mr. Martinez gasp as he grabbed a handful of my hair.

"Do you love feeling my hard cock in your mouth, Mrs. McDaniel? Does having my cock in your mouth make you wet?"

I made a noncommittal noise.

"I want you to feel my cock throbbing in your mouth as I come, Mrs. McDaniel." His voice was tight and raspy as I bobbed my head vigorously back and forth, wanting to bring things to an end as quickly as possible. He grabbed my head in both hands and forced himself deeper, almost causing me to choke. His hips began to thrust, driving his rigid phallus into my throat.

Suddenly, right when I was sure he was on the edge, he pulled out of my mouth and stood panting. "Beg me not to stop, Mrs. McDaniel. Let me hear how much you want to suck my cock."

"Please, Mr. Martinez," I lied. "Please don't stop. I want your cock. I want to taste your sperm. Please, let me finish you!"

He grunted his satisfaction and thrust past my lips again. I frantically stroked his shaft and caressed his heavy balls, willing him to come, hoping for an end to this.

He was gagging me now and my saliva flowed freely, making a mess of his pants. His eyes were tightly screwed shut, his lips pursed in an "O" as I tongued his frenulum. All at once his body went rigid and he thrust as deeply as he could. Then, with a climactic bellow, I felt him spurt once, twice, three times until semen filled my mouth and leaked around his pulsing shaft. It was over.

I swallowed his nasty spend and shakily stood up on the verge of tears. Mr. Martinez calmly wiped his softening dick with his handkerchief and then gently daubed at the mess on my lips and chin.

"Very good, Mrs. McDaniel. I see that you are indeed committed to our mutual success. You may return to your desk now. We will be in touch with instructions on how you can be of further service."

I stumbled through the whispers in a daze. What had I done? What had I gotten myself into?

Chapter 4

Bain Marron made the final presentation to HHS a week later. Barbara Cummins was what my mother termed a formidable woman - one of those overbearing, powerful women who used her authority to put vendors in their place and then trample them underfoot. Mr. Martinez had been suitably deferential, personally guaranteeing her that Bain Marron would pull out all stops to execute the contract to her expectations. A demonstration of the company's commitment was demanded and agreed upon. The details were worked out privately over cocktails and Mr. Martinez gave me my instructions. Ms. Cummins had demanded a personal interview with me in her suite at 9pm.

I was flabbergasted. I was the most junior member of the team and no match whatsoever for this overbearing client, but, nevertheless, that was the arrangement.

"Mrs. McDaniel," Mr. Martinez exhorted, "I cannot tell you how important this contract is to the company, your coworkers, and me. Jobs depend on it. Your job depends on it. Succeed tonight and your little infractions will be forgotten and, indeed, you will be richly rewarded. If you fail," his smile was cold and hard, "Things will not seem so well."

The elevator door slid smoothly open on the twenty-first floor of the Post Oak Hotel. I stepped into the small foyer and examined my reflection in the large mirror opposite the doors. I had changed into my new little black dress that Mr. Martinez had instructed me to purchase for this occasion, an exquisite McCormick Rag & Bone buttoned at front and sides, crafted from lightweight crepe, accented with Prada quarter strap platform sandals. No matter what challenges came I would meet it looking my best. I paused. Obeying an impulse, I fumbled with my phone, turned the voice recorder on and slipped it back into my purse.

My darkest secret, my dirtiest fantasy, was no match for the situation I found myself in. Ms. Cummins was dressed in a skin-tight, black leather dress with silver studs, her generous breasts threatening to spill out the top. She wielded a leather riding crop which she tapped deliberately on her desk while she gazed at me like a spider eying a fly.

She spoke without preamble. "Your competition said they were willing to do 'whatever it takes' but when put to the test they failed miserably. Managers always say what you want to hear, but they're not the ones who do the work. I demand to know if the regular employees working on the job are as committed as their bosses pretend to be."

"Ma'am, I assure you.."

"McDaniel, I am not interested in your assurances of anything. What I am interested in is a demonstration of your commitment. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She frowned. "Girl, you are to address me always as 'Ms. Cummins.' I do not expect to remind you again."

"Yes, Ms. Cummins," I squeaked meekly. She was as controlling as she was forceful, a combination that was hard to resist.

Ms. Cummins stood and circled me slowly, fondling the shaft of the riding crop as if it was a particularly beloved pet. It did not seem as if she approved of what she saw.

"Strip," She commanded matter-of-factly.

"What?"

Whack! Her crop smacked my bottom smartly. I yelped.

"I do not expect to repeat commands, McDaniel. Not now, and not if I allow you to work on my contract. If I must repeat myself once more this interview will be over, and Bain Marron stricken from the bidders list. Now- strip!"

My fingers flew to unfasten the top buttons of my dress, shimmied it down my body, and stood before Ms. Cummins in my underwear. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my elegant black lace cheeky panties and hesitated. How far was she going to take this? A stinging flick of the crop to my rump answered my question. I pulled my panties over my hips, let them fall around my ankles then quickly freed my breasts. I stood for her inspection, naked even of pubic hair, feeling horribly exposed.

"Part your legs so I can see your cunt."

I almost replied, "What?" but caught myself just in time. "All right," I whispered, too ashamed to look back at her.

Whack! The crop marked my naked bottom, and I flinched at the sharp pain.

"All right what?" she hissed.

"All right, Ms. Cummins," I bleated, and spread my legs far apart.

Again Ms. Cummins circled me. She used the crop to lift each breast as if testing for firmness, then rubbed the shaft between my labia. Humiliation did not hinder the swelling of my inner lips, which tingled in strange anticipation.

"Bend over the desk." I hastened to comply. The crop explored the cleft of my bottom, the tip finally coming to rest on the indentation of my anus.

"Show me how you touch yourself," she demanded.

"You-you want me to masturbate right here, Ms. Cummins? In front of you?"

Whack! Another stinging blow landed so hard it brought tears to my eyes as fire spread across my posterior. Immediately my fingers shot to my clit. I discovered that there is nothing like a throbbing bottom to make one eager to obey. I found the tip of my engorged nubbin and began to rub.

At first, I didn't think there was any way that I could get off with her watching, but I was wrong. An orgasm built quickly.

"Keep going," she ordered. She retrieved a cube from her drink. At first, I thought she was going to use it to soothe my smarting rear, but instead I felt the cold ice pressed into my tender bottom hole and, embarrassed, I squirmed away.

Smack! This time she spanked me with her bare hand. "Hold still. And did I tell you to stop rubbing yourself?"

The ice pressed firmly into my ass. I was powerless to stop it now. Only the tip slid inside me, yet it made me grunt. Never had I been penetrated there, and it felt strange. Ms. Cummins was violating me and humiliating me and the mixture of shame and arousal dancing through my mind made my clit throb with pleasure. I felt one of her hands spreading my cheeks wider as she pushed the ice deeper inside until the whole cube suddenly popped into my rectum. The cold in my bowel and the heat in my clit converged to convulse my body. My sphincter spasmed as an orgasm rushed up on me.

Whack! "Don't you dare come. Now- keep rubbing!"

I almost sobbed in frustration. "Ye-Yes, Ms. Cummins." She fetched another cube and began forcing it into my puckered hole. I felt it pushing the first one higher up inside me, into places I had never felt before. I felt depraved, degraded, yet on some level strangely exhilarated. The need to climax swelled into urgency, but I knew I had to remain obedient. I tried to slow my hand but still the orgasm built within me threatening to explode at any moment. It was right there, teetering on the edge. Hold off! I gritted. Hold off!

With a final push the frigid intruder was firmly ensconced in my rear, and I had to stop. One more stroke and I would climax.

Whack! "Keep stroking. I didn't tell you to stop." She raised the crop for another blow.

Please, Ms. Cummins! I can't control it. If I keep on, I'll come for sure."

"You're weak," she sneered. "I don't know what I see in you."

She saw something in me. Why did my heart leap at her remark?

Before I could consider my strange feelings, she yanked my hair and pulled me upright. My hand fell away leaving my clit pulsating as she seated herself on the desk in front of me. The air in the room seemed electrified amid taboo emotions and her growing need. I knew what she wanted.

My gaze never wavered from hers as I spread her knees and knelt between them. It did not surprise me to find her bare beneath her skirts. The lips of her sex were an angry dark red, engorged with lust and power. My stomach revolted as I hesitantly spread her thighs wider, and, closing my eyes, leaned in to kiss her malodorous mound. I had never kissed a woman, let alone pleasured one. The very idea repelled me, yet I had it to do.

Ms. Cummins leered at me. "You're such a pretty little thing, McDaniel. You've never done this before, have you?"

"No, Ms. Cummins."

"What did Martinez promise that convinced you to cooperate? Or," she paused a moment, "Perhaps it wasn't a promise. Perhaps it was more of a threat."

She chuckled, surprisingly deep for a woman, then grasped my head and abruptly pushed my face into her vee.

"Stop hesitating! Get in there, girl, and lick me like you mean it." She brandished the crop and I jerked to obey. I hesitantly extended my tongue and gave a soft lick to her hairy labia. My stomach was queasy, but I remembered what was at stake and began lapping her with a will.

Except I didn't know what to do. I tried to think of what gave me pleasure and tried the same on her. At first my tongue made long strokes along the length of her outer lips, pausing occasionally to kiss and nip at her inner thighs. She sighed and seemed to relax, her hands on my head. When I could taste her blossoming arousal, I pointed my tongue and delved into her slit, feeling the moistening slickness of her sex. I tried to ignore my flip-flopping stomach and concentrated on rimming her opening and urethra, ever so often teasing her large clit, proudly erect, almost like a small penis.

"That's it, you little shit. This is what cunts like you are good for - giving pleasure to your betters. Ah! You do it so well, too. Almost like you have experience. You've done this before, haven't you, twat?"

I didn't answer until she swatted me again with her crop. "N-no, Ms. Cummins. Never!"

"So you say. When Martinez said he would send me a fresh young girl to seal our arrangement I only half believed him. Little did I expect such a pretty thing like you but believe me when I say the contract is far from signed yet. Yes, the nice little financial gratuity he promised helps sweeten the deal, but you will decide whether I sign or not!

"Gratuity!" I gasped. "A kickback? But isn't that illegal?"

Whack! I yelped and reflexively rubbed the welt on my bottom.

"You have much to learn about how business is done at this level, don't you McDaniel? I assure you it is entirely customary for such favors to be tendered on such large, lucrative contracts. I have no doubt that if your performance this evening is.. satisfactory, that you may even benefit yourself!"

I could not help a glance at my purse.

With an inward sigh I began to focus on her clit, sucking the little monster like I would a cock, alternately bobbing my lips back and forth and licking the underside of her tip. She moaned and began to thrust at my mouth. I inserted a finger in her sheath and sought her spongy G-Spot. She gasped and convulsed.

"Oh, Bree! Yes, Bree! Just like that!"

So. It was Bree now. WIth sudden confidence I attacked her clit in earnest, adding a second finger in her vagina and spreading her legs as wide as I could. She was moaning and writhing in her chair, her hands cupping my head, guiding my mouth. As I stimulated just the right place she would give a cry and arch her back, stilling my head, only to relax once more as I renewed my assault.

"Bree, dear Bree. Make me come. Please."

And now it was "please."

I sat back on my heels. She reached for me but I resisted. She grabbed for the crop but I snatched it from her fingers.

"Pull your thighs to your chest and spread yourself, Barbara. I want access to all of you," I hissed. She seemed to ignore my use of her first name and complied. I paused a moment to examine her streaming slit, wide open to my gaze. Her wrinkled brown sphincter called to me, and deliberately I inserted my index finger as far as I could into her hot, rubbery rectum.

"Ohhhh!" she moaned, her eyes screwed tightly shut, but she didn't move to stop me.

I pushed my finger hard and held it there as she squirmed. "So tell me, Barbara, tell me how much you like my finger in your butt."

She gave me a venomous look and immediately I brought the crop down hard, three swats in quick succession. She wavered.

"Tell me, or I'll walk out your door and leave you like this."

"I.. I.."

I swatted her again. Tears were wetting her eyes.

'YES! Yes, you bitch. I like it."

"Tell me how much you enjoy being whipped, Barbara."

"I hate it." She hissed. "I hate you."

Her streaming pussy said otherwise. I swatted her again.

"Now, Barbara, this is what we're going to do. I'm going to make you come, and then I'm going to walk out of your office with a signed contract. Deal?"

She remained silent, defiant, breathing heavily. This time I brought the tip of the crop down on her pussy lips. She jumped and her eyes flew wide in shock. A puddle was forming on the leather seat of the chair. I gathered some of her nectar on my finger and forced it past her lips.

"Deal?" I whispered in her ear.. She flinched but did not pull away.

"Yes, yes, anything. please. I've never met anyone like you. Just finish me. Please."

And so I did. With my tongue lashing her clit, two fingers in her flabby pussy, and another in her smelly butt she exploded screaming in a convulsive orgasm that seemed to go on forever.

When she was finished, slumped spent in her chair, I stood and quickly dressed. Brandishing the riding crop once more I glanced meaningfully at the contract on her desk. Shakily, she signed and the deal was done.

I kept the crop. And the recording on my phone.

My husband thinks me innocent, but I have had experiences beyond his imagining. Mr. Martinez thinks me a weapon wielded against a target, but the secrets I carry could bring down his whole organization. Barbara Cummins thinks she is in control, but I am the one who can make her scream in pleasure -- and my name will be on her lips forever. My bonus was sizeable, but it went into a secret account in my name only.

I know now how good it feels to be bad