office visit (a repeat)
One of my first stories, posted only in a community, so few of you have seen it. I was remembering it today and thought I'd put it here for my own records. The writing is a little rough, but it still works for me. Maybe I should read it for a phone post?
Professor story soon.
-------------------------------------------------------
One Saturday afternoon, he asked if I wanted to go in to the office w/ him. As expected, I agreed - even if I was only going to be able to sit and read, I was always happy to be around him. When we were ready to leave, he asked me to change - to take off my bra and panties and put on black stockings and garters. No other clothes; just a long coat to fool any guards that might be in the foyer. Little strappy, delicate heels. I didn't question him, I was excited to know that more than an afternoon of paperwork awaited.
When we got in to his office (yes, a real office with a door and walls!) he shut the door behind me and calmly told me to hang my jacket in the closet and to sit across the desk from him. He started working at the computer on the other side of the desk, first reminding me that he wanted to be able to look up and see me whenever he pleased. I already knew this meant that I was to sit up straight and make myself available to his gaze, keeping my legs uncrossed and preferably open, my hands at my side or perhaps on the arms of the chair.
After a time he calmly cleared the desk and asked me to sit up on it. I was facing away from his chair, toward the door. He blindfolded me and, laying me down on the wood, tied my hands together; bringing my arms over my head. He must have tied them to something because I was held tight. Then he moved around the desk and tied my feet (to the chairs across the desk? Something firmer than that, it seemed. Could he have installed something on the desk itself?) so my legs were spread and raised, supported. The whole time he was quietly talking to me, telling me how hot I looked to him and what a good girl I was; how I pleased him. Then I heard him walk out. And I didn't hear the door shut behind him.
I lay there, listening to the hum of the air conditioner. It was usually warmer here on the weekends (some energy saving thing, I assumed.) But now I became aware of the breeze on my nearly naked body, raising goosebumps, tightening my nipples further, cooling the light sheen of sweat that had appeared on my skin. I trusted him with all my heart. But he had never left me this way. Was the door really open? Was the light on? It was quiet here on the weekends but other co-workers had occasionally shown up here before.
I strained to listen to the sounds outside and gradually heard voices. One was definitely his. As they came closer I prayed that he was just teasing me; that they would veer off and go get a cup of coffee.
I heard them enter the room.
I could feel the heat of a blush spread over my entire body. In fact, the first thing he commented on was what a nice pink I was - all over. I was mortified and confused and yet I was still so excited from everything that had been going on. I so wanted to ask him what he was doing. I so wanted to hide. But even at that moment I wanted to please him; to remember the way he liked me. His hand touched me, reassuringly but absentmindedly. They didn't talk to me. But they talked about me.
I was even more humiliated. He was telling her (yes, her) all of the little things I liked. Things he had spent many hours discovering. Things I had never told a soul; in fact, things I had never known myself until he brought them to light. And her hands were on me! As he raved to her about how responsive I was, she gently teased along the edges of my breasts, spiraling in to the taut nipples. Sliding down between my legs, trailing along my lips, oh-so-slowly spreading them open. His hand was always somewhere on me as well, brushing my hair back, caressing my arm. Reassuring me. But he was allowing her - encouraging her - to touch me as he, and only he, had ever done.
I willed myself to be quiet. But I must have been moving my head from side to side in protest. I must have been making some little sounds. He spoke to me the way you might speak to a child who had awakened from a nightmare, or had a silly fright. He stroked my face. "Sweet - mmmm. Silly girl. Don't you trust me by now? Are you afraid of what might happen? Yes? OK, I'll tell you exactly what's going to happen. My lovely friend here is going to fuck you." I let out a muffled sob-like cry. "Yes, yes, yes. And you are going to come for her. Why? Because I want to see it. Because you need to learn. Soon you will understand. Now, I've talked about you so glowingly - don't disappoint me." He kissed my lips; the sweetest kiss. And then he moved away, and I couldn't feel anyone. I concentrated, trying to sense what was going on.
And then he was in me. He wasn't even touching me, except in that small area where his cock entered me. But it was definitely him. He slid himself into me in one motion and buried his cock deeply, then rocked it back and forth, teasing me. It was so sudden, it took my breath away. I couldn't help but respond to him. I started to forget - I hoped that perhaps it could all be forgotten. Perhaps he was just testing me. I moved my hips up to meet him, rising off the desk. I let my head fall back. He held my waist, pushed my legs farther apart. And then I felt her again. Touching me so gently but never stopping, moving from one spot to another with a slow, languid air. Tantalizing. Still, there was him. I tried to shut out everything else.
And then he was gone again. I knew he hadn't come. He'd just been showing me off. Showing off the way I gave myself up to him. And then her mouth was on me and he was whispering in my ear, coaching me, detailing the way it looked to him to see her lick me, to see her lapping at the juices he had brought forth. He described her wet, red mouth. He told me that since he had brought her, I should imagine it was his mouth on me. That this was what he wanted for me. He talked to her, though I could hear every word. He told her exactly what to do to me. And I tried. I swear I did. But I was so confused. I knew I couldn't come. I didn't want to let him down. After a few minutes, I thought that I would pretend, and then it would be over. I tried to remember exactly how it felt when I really came for him. I tried to do just that. I stopped, breathing heavily, and so did she.
I jumped as his hand suddenly slammed down on the desk, near my head. He took my head in his hands. Not painfully, but firmly. He was controlled, but I could tell he was upset. Disappointed. Angry? Possibly, probably angry. He walked away from me. I could hear him pacing, little sounds of annoyance coming from him. I would have done anything to take it back. Finally he came back. Hot breath in my ear. His voice was controlled but searing:
"Well, my not-so-good little girl. Do you think you're tricky? Too tricky for me? Do you imagine for an INSTANT that I don't know you as well as you know yourself? Better, I dare say. I am - disappointed. More disappointed than I have ever been in you. You didn't even fail me. You tried to trick me." And here he paused again and I heard them murmuring, too softly for me to catch the words.
"I'm going to give you another chance. But first, I think that perhaps you need an example to learn from. I'm going to fuck my beautiful assistant here. We're going to be right next to you. Now, out of love for you, I'm going to take it easy on you this time; I won't make you watch. But I want you to listen very carefully. Listen to how she gives herself up to me, and learn."
I had so many thoughts running through my head as I felt her ease up onto the desk next to me. I wasn't even sure exactly what parts of them I was touching, but I could feel the rhythm as the desk moved under them. I could hear them. God, I could hear them. His voice. His mouth on hers. The sound of their wetness. Sometimes he would talk to me. He would describe what he was doing, tell me how it felt to be inside her hot, tight pussy. I heard them come. I heard him come and I was not there to receive it. I was so blindingly jealous - jealous of her touching him. Jealous that she was pleasing him when I had not. Confused as to why he would want this from me. And excited. Despite myself, I could imagine exactly how he felt to her. I heard her respond and I willed it to be me. My mouth, my breasts, my cunt. I felt as though I was being shattered.
When it was over, he was gentle with me, but firm. He told me that we were going to start again. This time she was going to fill me with a vibrator, to concentrate my thoughts. "You think all the time, honey," he said. "Now, I need you to just feel. I know you can do this for me." I had no will left in me. I was utterly limp as she slid the vibrator inside me, stretching me a bit. It took me a moment to adjust to the fullness of it. And it did help to focus me. I tried to open myself to her. I tried to just think about her tongue. As if I was watching it on a screen, I could envision her mouth licking and sucking, her tongue darting along the folds. Oh, God help me, it was good. She knew just what I liked. I gasped as her slim fingers slid into my ass, stretching me in another direction. I was so utterly filled. And the entire time he was sitting next to me, lightly touching me, pinching my nipples, whispering to me and telling me what it looked like, so that I felt her actions entering my mind from two different directions - my own senses and his words. I felt myself opening further - the images growing larger in my mind. My eyes were closed, but through the blindfold I felt a flash of light, then another. He leaned in and told me, "A souvenir, sweet. One for me to keep. And one for her." And that's when I came. A deep, ragged, almost painful orgasm from the depths. I was thrashing and gasping and spasming and she didn't stop. She kept her mouth on me, her hands on me and in me. I felt myself clamp down hard on the vibrator. I think I bit my lip. He was so pleased. He crooned to me, "That's my girl. That's my good girl." When it was over I was weak. I lay as if slain. And that's when she kissed me, deeply and lingeringly. She filled my mouth with my own taste. She possessed me more in that kiss than she had before. She didn't expect me to respond; she didn't need me to respond. I knew he was watching. She took her time, exploring my mouth. And then, she told me that she had asked for me. That she had seen me with my lover, her old lover,and had quizzed him about me; that she had begged him to let her help train me. And then she told me that I might see her again. "I might see you at a cocktail party. I'll come up and smile, shake your hand and make small talk and you will never know me. But I will know ALL about you.
"Or maybe it won't be that simple. Maybe he'll bring you to me again.
"And next time, you won't have the luxury of being tied.
Professor story soon.
-------------------------------------------------------
One Saturday afternoon, he asked if I wanted to go in to the office w/ him. As expected, I agreed - even if I was only going to be able to sit and read, I was always happy to be around him. When we were ready to leave, he asked me to change - to take off my bra and panties and put on black stockings and garters. No other clothes; just a long coat to fool any guards that might be in the foyer. Little strappy, delicate heels. I didn't question him, I was excited to know that more than an afternoon of paperwork awaited.
When we got in to his office (yes, a real office with a door and walls!) he shut the door behind me and calmly told me to hang my jacket in the closet and to sit across the desk from him. He started working at the computer on the other side of the desk, first reminding me that he wanted to be able to look up and see me whenever he pleased. I already knew this meant that I was to sit up straight and make myself available to his gaze, keeping my legs uncrossed and preferably open, my hands at my side or perhaps on the arms of the chair.
After a time he calmly cleared the desk and asked me to sit up on it. I was facing away from his chair, toward the door. He blindfolded me and, laying me down on the wood, tied my hands together; bringing my arms over my head. He must have tied them to something because I was held tight. Then he moved around the desk and tied my feet (to the chairs across the desk? Something firmer than that, it seemed. Could he have installed something on the desk itself?) so my legs were spread and raised, supported. The whole time he was quietly talking to me, telling me how hot I looked to him and what a good girl I was; how I pleased him. Then I heard him walk out. And I didn't hear the door shut behind him.
I lay there, listening to the hum of the air conditioner. It was usually warmer here on the weekends (some energy saving thing, I assumed.) But now I became aware of the breeze on my nearly naked body, raising goosebumps, tightening my nipples further, cooling the light sheen of sweat that had appeared on my skin. I trusted him with all my heart. But he had never left me this way. Was the door really open? Was the light on? It was quiet here on the weekends but other co-workers had occasionally shown up here before.
I strained to listen to the sounds outside and gradually heard voices. One was definitely his. As they came closer I prayed that he was just teasing me; that they would veer off and go get a cup of coffee.
I heard them enter the room.
I could feel the heat of a blush spread over my entire body. In fact, the first thing he commented on was what a nice pink I was - all over. I was mortified and confused and yet I was still so excited from everything that had been going on. I so wanted to ask him what he was doing. I so wanted to hide. But even at that moment I wanted to please him; to remember the way he liked me. His hand touched me, reassuringly but absentmindedly. They didn't talk to me. But they talked about me.
I was even more humiliated. He was telling her (yes, her) all of the little things I liked. Things he had spent many hours discovering. Things I had never told a soul; in fact, things I had never known myself until he brought them to light. And her hands were on me! As he raved to her about how responsive I was, she gently teased along the edges of my breasts, spiraling in to the taut nipples. Sliding down between my legs, trailing along my lips, oh-so-slowly spreading them open. His hand was always somewhere on me as well, brushing my hair back, caressing my arm. Reassuring me. But he was allowing her - encouraging her - to touch me as he, and only he, had ever done.
I willed myself to be quiet. But I must have been moving my head from side to side in protest. I must have been making some little sounds. He spoke to me the way you might speak to a child who had awakened from a nightmare, or had a silly fright. He stroked my face. "Sweet - mmmm. Silly girl. Don't you trust me by now? Are you afraid of what might happen? Yes? OK, I'll tell you exactly what's going to happen. My lovely friend here is going to fuck you." I let out a muffled sob-like cry. "Yes, yes, yes. And you are going to come for her. Why? Because I want to see it. Because you need to learn. Soon you will understand. Now, I've talked about you so glowingly - don't disappoint me." He kissed my lips; the sweetest kiss. And then he moved away, and I couldn't feel anyone. I concentrated, trying to sense what was going on.
And then he was in me. He wasn't even touching me, except in that small area where his cock entered me. But it was definitely him. He slid himself into me in one motion and buried his cock deeply, then rocked it back and forth, teasing me. It was so sudden, it took my breath away. I couldn't help but respond to him. I started to forget - I hoped that perhaps it could all be forgotten. Perhaps he was just testing me. I moved my hips up to meet him, rising off the desk. I let my head fall back. He held my waist, pushed my legs farther apart. And then I felt her again. Touching me so gently but never stopping, moving from one spot to another with a slow, languid air. Tantalizing. Still, there was him. I tried to shut out everything else.
And then he was gone again. I knew he hadn't come. He'd just been showing me off. Showing off the way I gave myself up to him. And then her mouth was on me and he was whispering in my ear, coaching me, detailing the way it looked to him to see her lick me, to see her lapping at the juices he had brought forth. He described her wet, red mouth. He told me that since he had brought her, I should imagine it was his mouth on me. That this was what he wanted for me. He talked to her, though I could hear every word. He told her exactly what to do to me. And I tried. I swear I did. But I was so confused. I knew I couldn't come. I didn't want to let him down. After a few minutes, I thought that I would pretend, and then it would be over. I tried to remember exactly how it felt when I really came for him. I tried to do just that. I stopped, breathing heavily, and so did she.
I jumped as his hand suddenly slammed down on the desk, near my head. He took my head in his hands. Not painfully, but firmly. He was controlled, but I could tell he was upset. Disappointed. Angry? Possibly, probably angry. He walked away from me. I could hear him pacing, little sounds of annoyance coming from him. I would have done anything to take it back. Finally he came back. Hot breath in my ear. His voice was controlled but searing:
"Well, my not-so-good little girl. Do you think you're tricky? Too tricky for me? Do you imagine for an INSTANT that I don't know you as well as you know yourself? Better, I dare say. I am - disappointed. More disappointed than I have ever been in you. You didn't even fail me. You tried to trick me." And here he paused again and I heard them murmuring, too softly for me to catch the words.
"I'm going to give you another chance. But first, I think that perhaps you need an example to learn from. I'm going to fuck my beautiful assistant here. We're going to be right next to you. Now, out of love for you, I'm going to take it easy on you this time; I won't make you watch. But I want you to listen very carefully. Listen to how she gives herself up to me, and learn."
I had so many thoughts running through my head as I felt her ease up onto the desk next to me. I wasn't even sure exactly what parts of them I was touching, but I could feel the rhythm as the desk moved under them. I could hear them. God, I could hear them. His voice. His mouth on hers. The sound of their wetness. Sometimes he would talk to me. He would describe what he was doing, tell me how it felt to be inside her hot, tight pussy. I heard them come. I heard him come and I was not there to receive it. I was so blindingly jealous - jealous of her touching him. Jealous that she was pleasing him when I had not. Confused as to why he would want this from me. And excited. Despite myself, I could imagine exactly how he felt to her. I heard her respond and I willed it to be me. My mouth, my breasts, my cunt. I felt as though I was being shattered.
When it was over, he was gentle with me, but firm. He told me that we were going to start again. This time she was going to fill me with a vibrator, to concentrate my thoughts. "You think all the time, honey," he said. "Now, I need you to just feel. I know you can do this for me." I had no will left in me. I was utterly limp as she slid the vibrator inside me, stretching me a bit. It took me a moment to adjust to the fullness of it. And it did help to focus me. I tried to open myself to her. I tried to just think about her tongue. As if I was watching it on a screen, I could envision her mouth licking and sucking, her tongue darting along the folds. Oh, God help me, it was good. She knew just what I liked. I gasped as her slim fingers slid into my ass, stretching me in another direction. I was so utterly filled. And the entire time he was sitting next to me, lightly touching me, pinching my nipples, whispering to me and telling me what it looked like, so that I felt her actions entering my mind from two different directions - my own senses and his words. I felt myself opening further - the images growing larger in my mind. My eyes were closed, but through the blindfold I felt a flash of light, then another. He leaned in and told me, "A souvenir, sweet. One for me to keep. And one for her." And that's when I came. A deep, ragged, almost painful orgasm from the depths. I was thrashing and gasping and spasming and she didn't stop. She kept her mouth on me, her hands on me and in me. I felt myself clamp down hard on the vibrator. I think I bit my lip. He was so pleased. He crooned to me, "That's my girl. That's my good girl." When it was over I was weak. I lay as if slain. And that's when she kissed me, deeply and lingeringly. She filled my mouth with my own taste. She possessed me more in that kiss than she had before. She didn't expect me to respond; she didn't need me to respond. I knew he was watching. She took her time, exploring my mouth. And then, she told me that she had asked for me. That she had seen me with my lover, her old lover,and had quizzed him about me; that she had begged him to let her help train me. And then she told me that I might see her again. "I might see you at a cocktail party. I'll come up and smile, shake your hand and make small talk and you will never know me. But I will know ALL about you.
"Or maybe it won't be that simple. Maybe he'll bring you to me again.
"And next time, you won't have the luxury of being tied.