by Cyan
Copyright 2004 by Cyan
All Rights Reserved; No Redistribution.
"So," I asked as I drove off. "Car's in the shop?" Martin had asked me to pick him up and I was certainly happy to do so.
"Deanna needed it," said Martin.
Deanna. "What about her car?"
"It's in the shop," said Martin. I said nothing. I was very good and said not a word about needy Deanna, but I certainly was fuming inside. That woman: the way she treated her husband was a crime. "Oh, by the way," said Martin, breaking the silence, "we're going to have to do some scrambling today. Corporate is coming and I have to cancel all today's appointments."
"They're coming today?" I asked, incredulously. "No notice?"
"They called last night."
I mulled over this. "Is something wrong?"
He was silent for a moment. I hated to ask it because I knew Martin had been under some pressure about two of our accounts, but the man is only human. "I guess we'll see," he said and it broke my heart to hear resignation in his voice. If they only knew how much of himself Martin puts into this job, was all I could think. I thought about Martin's life, that woman and those bastards.
I was startled to find them inside the office when we arrived! A woman was looking through my files and a man was leafing through one that they had pulled. Martin gave me a glance and I tried with all my might to show silent support. "Ah, Martin," said the man. "I think we have enough to get started," and he "invited" Martin into his own office.
The woman pulled more files, stood, and followed them without even acknowledging me! But just before closing the door behind them, she stopped and said to me, "As soon as you've managed to cancel today's appointments, make a list of all the calls and correspondence with Acme Corp. and General Divisions. And make sure we aren't disturbed."
I stared at the door after she closed it. I was positively incensed, but I was also scared. I'd known they were unhappy about the Acme account but their expectations certainly had been unreasonable. Shaking myself, I began on the day's calendar.
An hour had passed by the time I managed to get through to everyone while fending off Martin's typical morning calls. I still stared at the door: no one had come out and I'd heard not the slightest noise. It was actually a bit spooky. I glanced at my files wondering if I should take a look and see what they'd taken. But I remembered that woman. It's not that she scared me, what with her attitude and her expensive suit, but I realized I'd better produce what they demanded, for my own sake as well as Martin's. I took out my daily logs as well as the ones Deanna had left behind, then wondered how far to go back. Martin had had the Acme account for nearly a decade.
I stared at the door again. And wondered how they could be so quiet. And thought about how the woman had simply assigned me busy work.
I had to know how it was going. And I had a legitimate question.
I thought about knocking but somehow imagined it might bring her out to answer me and I needed to see Martin, how he was holding up. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and slipped in.
Martin was naked! I swear, I'm not making this up, he had nothing on but his tee-shirt and he was leaning over his own desk. And the man was doing him from behind!
My mouth hung open. The woman was at the conference table, studying files. I heard Martin's breath catch. "You can't be in here," said the woman, suddenly looking up at me. Then she stood and came straight toward me, as I stood there, stock still. "You have to leave, right now."
She gently pushed me out, following me, and closing the door behind her. I looked back at it, remembering that image of Martin! You could hardly expect me to understand. "You were to make sure we weren't disturbed," said the woman.
"What is going on here?" I said.
She fixed a stare at me. "Your task was to make sure we weren't disturbed," she repeated, "and apparently you weren't up to it, were you?" She certainly didn't seem embarrassed by any of it, her voice was perfectly level. I, on the other hand, began to worry once more about my job, and that shut me up. "Well?" she demanded.
"I guess not," I conceded.
She seemed to go into thought for a moment, looking at the floor, then suddenly she looked at me again. "Take off your clothes," she said.
"What?"
"Now."
I couldn't believe this. "You can't make me..."
"I'm not making you," she said, interrupting. Then she said again, "Take off your clothes, right now."
I thought of Martin in there. It was like the world was coming apart and I had no idea what to do. I began undressing, my hands trembling. "Everything but your bra," she said.
"What..."
"No talking," she cut in. "Keep moving."
It was so strange, taking off my clothes in my own office, this woman whose name I didn't even know watching me. Soon I was down to my bra and underpants. She nodded indicating I should continue.
Once I slipped them off, I found her putting a rubber glove on her right hand. She had a small plastic jar, which she opened, putting a gob of something on her fingers. "Lean over the desk," she said.
I was so frightened. I almost tripped, turning. She moved around a bit more, then she approached me from behind. And put a finger right on my rear hole. "Relax it," she said. And she pressed.
"Why are..."
"Shut up!" she said sharply. She pushed her finger in, the feel of it sliding inside my anus capturing all of my attention. "This won't hurt if you cooperate."
What is going on here? was the thought I managed to conjure and the phrase went through my mind over and over. I felt her probing and stretching, never hard. Then she removed it.
And pressed something larger against me. I looked back: she still wore the suit. A strap went around her waist, though. "Relax and it will be fine," she said, "but you have to relax."
She pressed harder, holding my hips. "Come on now," she said, "this'll do you more good than you know." Yet harder and I did my best to oblige her. It slipped in, all the way, her crotch suddenly against my rear. "That's it," she said, then began pumping slowly.
For a minute, that's all she did: pump me. Then she let go with one hand and I felt her moving around a little though she still had the thing in me. Next, she bent over my back and I felt something on my sex. "Here, this is what you need," she said.
And there was vibration. It was some kind of vibrator and she had just turned it on. And it was a powerful vibrator: I glanced back and saw an electrical chord. And vibrators are my weakness.
I was breathing heavily in seconds, and I'm afraid I was helping her, pushing myself against her in rhythm. as she pumped. The room was no longer quiet, with the buzz and with my gasps. I knew she had me, that she'd see what happens when I lose myself.
"See?" came a voice. It was the man: he stood above me in front of me. Martin was next to him. They were obviously looking at me! "She'd suck you off daily if you gave her half a chance." I couldn't look up high enough to see their faces. And I was still slave to the vibration and was having no success holding out.
I came. Multiple times, the way I do with vibrators, and she certainly didn't let up after I started. She must have kept it on me minutes more, until I was completely exhausted.
Then everything was quiet. I managed to look around: the men were gone. She'd withdrawn. Feeling woozy, I got up enough to look around. She sat on a chair, reading something in one of the files. She stopped and looked at me. "Get dressed," she said.
* * *
I stared at Stephanie. She'd sent me home telling me to shower and to dress decently, informing me that she'd be by to pick me up at five. Now we were at Dominick's and the wine she'd ordered had just arrived. I was still very wary though she'd been friendly enough picking me up, finally introducing herself. "So," said Stephanie, "what do you think of Deanna?"
"She's fine," I said.
"Oh really?" said Stephanie as if she didn't believe me for a second. "Would you say she treats Martin the way he deserves?"
No, was the unbidden answer in my mind. I thought about whether to say that, then sat there looking stupid. "Obviously you wouldn't," said Stephanie. "But she's his wife, and you're just the secretary," she said. Then she said, "administrative assistant," as if to correct herself, but I could tell she was amused at the title. "As his wife, she surely treats him like a man should be treated." It was hard to just sit there as she said that, but I saw she was baiting me for some reason. She gave me a smile that I didn't quite like. "I suggest you be honest with me," she said. "Let's just say it's in your best interest."
It was a threat of some sort. "She's OK," I managed to say.
"She's perfect for him," she said.
"She..."
I caught myself. "Yes?" said Stephanie. "Go on."
"She doesn't know how lucky she is," I said, but that statement was hardly what I'd almost blurted.
"Oh I happen to know that she does," said Stephanie.
"Then how can she treat him like--like crap?"
Stephanie gave me that same scary smile. "That's not the whole story. You know, there's something you've never provided for Martin, and Deanna loves to provide it." She was referring to some kind of sex, of course. "Martin has needs," said Stephanie, "and besides discipline, it is the Corporation's business to make sure that employee performance isn't impaired because needs aren't being met. Do you understand me?"
"No," I said, perfectly honestly.
"Let me ask you this," she said. "What needs of yours aren't being met?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said. But she wasn't listening. She seemed to be miles away, mulling over something.
"Here's what we'll do," she said, getting her purse. She got out a card, then wrote something on the back. Then she gave it to me. "Go to this address, oh, about 10AM on a Monday or Tuesday. You can take the time off work."
I stared at the card. It was just an address. On the back something was scrawled but it meant nothing to me. "What..."
"Just go," she said. It's funny, but her smile now looked genuine.
When we'd finished eating and she'd driven me back to my apartment, she stopped me before I got out. Then she leaned over and kissed me on the lips. "Sometimes work has its pleasures," she said, then simply waited for me to leave.
Let me tell you, I was totally confused that night.
The next day, things were totally normal at the office, though Martin and I probably chatted a little less than usual. I got out the card and stared at it several times. But when Monday rolled around, I did no more than look at it a few times.
It wasn't until weeks later that I finally couldn't take it. Martin was out, the answering machine was doing its job, and my curiosity had grown all out of proportion. I found I had to see what this was about. The address was a house, in the city but in a nice neighborhood.
A woman answered the door. "Yes?" she said. She was perhaps thirty and looked like a young mom if anything. Having no clue, I simply gave her the card.
She looked at it as if she didn't recognize it. Then she inspected the back, still looking uninformed. Looking up at me, she said, "you better come in."
I followed her into a living room, nice and tidy. "Take off your clothes," she said, leaving me.
Just like that. Well, it was reminiscent of the odd day Stephanie had been over. In a minute she was back and seemed surprised I hadn't budged. "Come on, get them off, and put this on." She handed me a tee-shirt. Not nearly long enough to cover me.
She waited, watching me. It was so much like when Stephanie had done the same at the office. I finally began, and after she waited long enough to see that I really was doing it, she left again.
When she came back, I stood there in just the tee-shirt. "Lean over that table," she said. She had a strap-on in her hand. And a vibrator.
I couldn't believe this was all happening again. It seemed far too late to back out, so I did as she told me. I heard her approach behind me. "Well, Stephanie seems to know your quirks," she said. I heard rustling, then felt her press the thing against my rear hole. "I'd relax if I were you," she said. I did my best.
Later, when she had the vibrator on and I was getting very close, she said, "Are you spanked regularly?"
"No!" I gasped.
"Pity," she said. I came and came.
She stood over me as I recovered. "You do like the vibrator," she said, and I heard the smile in her voice. "Get dressed and go home and clean up," she said, while my breath still was coming in gasps. "I'll pick you up at 7:30 tonight. Dress fancy."
* * *
She drove a staid sedan, whereas Stephanie had had her sports car. She certainly no longer looked like a mom in her nice clothes. I almost stared.
Like Stephanie, she ordered wine and began talking to me once we had it in hand. "Do you consider yourself lesbian?" she asked. I still didn't know her name. I had no idea how she'd known my address.
"No!" I said.
"So why do you come so hard when a woman does you?" I was speechless. "Or was it just the vibrator?" The latter is what I'd assumed, but I was hardly ready to talk about such things, even after what the two of us had been through. But she grinned and I saw that she was teasing me.
Then she dropped the grin. "But I think Stephanie should have introduced you to the cane."
"What?"
She smiled again, but this time it was sly. "Are you sure you're not spanked?"
"No!"
"How about Deanna? We could have her cane you." It was a shock to hear her mention Deanna since we'd hardly talked. I suppose it would have made sense to tell her her suggestion was way off but I was so far out of my element I simply sat there staring at her. "Deanna would love it," she said. "And so would you."
* * *
I go there every Monday. Deanna is there. Both of them say I love the cane, but I don't. It's not love, I really can't describe what it is. Sometimes they have me lick them afterward. I must always wear the tee-shirt though Deanna is sometimes totally nude. When they kiss, I feel jealous. Vicky sometimes tells me that Deanna sucks Martin's cock every day, but Deanna doesn't seem to like her to be talking about that.
I guess I don't think about Martin as much. Business has been good, and when Stephanie and James come, they do seem pleased, though they watch Martin like a hawk. Now Stephanie always arranges for me to get a glimpse of James in Martin. She tells me some day James'll do me.
I like it when Stephanie does me. Unlike Vicky and Deanna, she'll kiss me afterward. Also, she doesn't use the cane on me the way they always do.
Cyan Stories
Erotic fiction, sex stories, for erotica lovers.