Graymangazer©2017
A peep into the everyday running of a busy office.
This story contains consensual BDSM, humiliation, some pain and lesbian sex. Please look elsewhere if this is not your thing, otherwise please enjoy.
And please comment, but sensibly. I also welcome emails.
Lydia stood in the exact centre of the room, six feet away from the large desk, the bright sunlight coming through the high window shone harshly into her face causing her to squint. She licked dry lips and blew a wisp of hair from her face. And she waited straight and tall, almost at attention. A bead of sweat escaped from her hairline and trickled down the side of her face, it tickled but she made no attempt to wipe it away, keeping statue still as though afraid to move, and she watched nervously as the young woman sat in the comfortable leather chair on the opposite side of the desk.
The young woman was named Stella O'Conner, she was twenty eight years old, twelve years younger than Lydia, but age has no respect for authority, and certainly not in this situation. She gazed idly, seemingly bored, out of the window, watching the traffic trundle by on the busy street three storeys below. She held a wooden rule - twelve inches long, the kind one would find in a school room - between the finger and thumb of one hand, idly allowing it to swing back and forth, much like a pendulum, and Lydia's eyes followed its movement as though hypnotized. Suddenly a low sigh escaped Stella's lips, quiet, but loud enough to break Lydia's attention, and she turned her eyes to the younger woman's face.
Stella was not beautiful, not in the classic sense, but she was certainly attractive: her mouth, though sensual, was maybe a little too wide, and the myriad of freckles across her pale cheeks and small nose gave her an elfin look, and her wild, fiery red hair only added to the effect. She was tall and slim, though it was hard to judge just how tall as she lounged with her long shapely legs raised and crossed at the ankles, her feet resting nonchalantly on the polished wood of the desk. Lydia subconsciously clenched her fists as she noticed the young woman's sharp three inch heels carelessly scratching the surface of the expensive furniture.
"Lift, show me," Stella said in a lilting Irish brogue, and taking Lydia by surprise. She pointed lazily with the ruler toward the front of Lydia's skirt "let's see your old lady knickers," she added. She sounded bored, as though even the task of mocking Lydia's attire was beneath her effort.
Lydia's hands trembled and her eyes watered, she told herself it was because of the bright dazzling sunlight, but deep inside she knew it was the humiliation of obeying one so young, and the shameful things she was always made to do. But as if they had a mind of their own her fingers found the hem of her tailored skirt and slowly raised the material up and over her thighs to bunch at her waist.
"Oh my God!" Stella said, finally showing some interest "you really are a dirty slut aren't you? Those big old bloomers are soaked," she added with a small laugh.
It was just another humiliation for Lydia. But she knew it was true, she didn't even need to look down to see, because she could feel the dampness and the fine silk of her panties clinging to her shaved labia. Even so, she wanted to protest, to shout that she didn't wear 'old lady,' underwear, that she wore only the finest designer lingerie, that her bra and panties alone probably cost more than Stella's whole outfit. But she didn't say anything, because it didn't matter, ultimately, in comparison, she knew that she was worthless, just a toy to be used for the younger woman's amusement.
Stella dropped her feet to the floor and stood, slowly uncurling from her position in the chair. And she walked lazily around the desk, languidly placing one foot in front of the other until she stood close, intimidating her prey. Even in her bare feet she would still be six inches taller than Lydia, so her three inch heels only emphasized her superiority, and it made Lydia feel small and weak by comparison. Stella stared at her toy; waiting until Lydia gained enough courage to look up at her. Then with a somewhat bored expression she held the ruler to Lydia's lips, and automatically the older woman opened her mouth to grip the flat wood between her teeth.
Stella's lips curled slightly, not quite a smile, but more of a smirk, and the tip of her tongue protruded as she studied Lydia's face, a beautiful face, immaculately made up and with her blond hair expertly gathered and styled into a bun at the back of her head. She too was slim, but with more curves, and dressed in her expensive designer clothes she could be mistaken for some silver screen goddess.
Stella watched closely for some reaction from Lydia; an intake of breath perhaps, or a small tightening of the lips, as she raised her hands and began loosening the buttons of the woman's shirt. But apart from briefly closing her eyes Lydia was resigned, and she stood docile as Stella flipped the ivory coloured discs one after another until they were all undone. Then Stella did indeed smile, and she licked her lips so that the already glossy red lipstick seemed to brighten, and she roughly pulled the shirt open to reveal Lydia's bra covered breasts.
Still looking into Lydia's eyes, Stella silently challenged the smaller woman to protest as she pushed her hands slowly into the top of each bra cup and paused, taking time to feel the warm, plaint flesh, to squeeze and massage, demonstrating her dominance and her power to do just whatever she desired, then squeezing the erect nipples and finally making Lydia groan softly in what?.. pleasure?.. Pain? Before she lifted the soft boobs clear of their confines.
Lydia bit down hard on the ruler and stared straight ahead, she felt unable to look at Stella's hands or meet her eyes. She had no idea of what might be coming, what indignities Stella might have planned for her, whether they be painful or pleasurable? And she whimpered, trembling slightly, wondering if, to her fevered brain, they might just be one and the same? Regardless, she waited, docile, holding her skirt high, with her breasts, naked and venerable, forced up and out by the bra scrunched up beneath them.
Stella ran her fingertips over the exposed boobs, dragging her red painted nails lightly across and around, circling the stiffening nipples and leaving pink trails on the pale skin. She tilted her head to one side and studied Lydia's breasts, as though she had never seen anything like them before. Then, making a purring sound, and as if the idea had just occurred to her she gripped each small nipple between finger and thumb, squeezing gently, and twisting just a little.
Lydia's breath hissed through clenched teeth, and she closed her eyes tight against the sudden discomfort, and even though it didn't hurt too badly, she was well aware of how much worse it could become. And she was proved correct when Stella's smile widened and she increased the pressure, digging in her nails a little and stretching Lydia's nipples away from her body. Eventually forcing Lydia to groan in pain, but still she made no move to resist.
"Does that hurt?" Stella asked,
Lydia at last looked up at her tormentor "uh huh," she nodded her head affirmatively, discomfort clearly etched on her face.
"Do you want me to stop?" Stella asked, and releasing one nipple, but keeping a firm grip on the other, she retrieved the ruler from between Lydia's lips. A silver stream of drool escaped from Lydia's mouth and hung, glistening in the sunlight for a moment before falling onto her breast.
Lydia knew that the question was rhetorical: what she wanted didn't matter. But she was required to reply, and she also knew the wrong answer could only make things worse "I only want what pleases you Miss," she said, and stifled a yelp when Stella suddenly pulled the one nipple up high and hard so that Lydia was forced onto her toes.
