Sandra's New Career

I was practically begging Sandra to hit me.

“What do you mean you’re up for a promotion?” she asked. “Wh- what about me?”

“I don’t know about you,” I lied, copying citations, “but I can see why they would want to keep me at the firm.”

"Well... maybe we're both being made senior associates,” she said, but doubt was evident on her face. “We've done a lot of work together on this Beecham case."

I chuckled quietly, still pretending to be busy.

She set down the file she was carrying and crossed her arms. "Alice, do you know something I don't?"

I put down my pen, and looked at my watch. "How much time do you have?"

"What are you talking about?" Her eyes narrowed to slits. She was really getting upset now. "I practically taught you everything you know..."

"You taught me everything YOU know, and that didn't take very long."

"You little bitch!" She swelled up in anger, and then seemed to catch herself, shaking her head. "You're bullshitting me." She picked up the file again and started to leave my office.

"No, Sandra, I'm not. How long have you been here, in the same entry-level position?" She stopped again, in mid-step. "The reason they have us working together is probably so that I can replace you."

She dropped the file, and papers scattered on the floor. "If you say one more word..."

Trying to think of a way to provoke her, I remembered a discussion we had once, working late together as always. I had asked her if there were any men in her life.

"No, honey, no men. I'm not like you," she had said, sickly sweet. Not a little brown ho, you meant? "I was sort of wild in college, but now I don't have the time." She had looked a little wistful, at that.

That night, I had laughed. On the outside. "You mean you don't have any sex? Not at all?"

She had blushed. "Of course not. With who, Alice? Guys get intimidated when they find out I'm a corporate lawyer."

Remembering that conversation, watching her angry face as she tried to pick up the file, I said cheerfully, "Your sexual frustration is probably affecting your work.” That did it. She swung her open hand right at my face.

Sandra Cox had been at Watkins & Boyle for seven years now – five years more than me. Before I was hired, I had worked with her as a summer associate. She was white – I suppose that is important – and she was talking about me behind my back.

Being a woman of color, you always have to deal with this shit from some people. "She's only here because she's black - you know, the firm has an ‘aggressive’ hiring program.” That's what she was telling the other associates. She didn’t even get the specifics right – my mother was Filipina, my father black. Once, at the end of a 20-hour weekend of working together on a discovery project, I remarked about how, when I became partner, someone else would be working on Sunday evenings. In a that sickly sweet voice, she told me, "It may have been easy to get in, honey, but now that you're here, you're going to have to work hard."

Bitch. I could have slapped her. After that, I started to look at her. I mean,

really

look at her. Thirty-something, still doing shit work as a junior associate, afraid of computers, and probably not getting fucked properly. I mean, she was attractive enough. Shoulder length, chestnut brown hair, a little chunky in the hips and probably way out of shape, but with nice tits and skin. Mostly, she had that stuck up, repressed thing going that some women (and men) have that screams to the world, "Fuck me, for god's sake!"

So she swung at me. I guess I struck a nerve.

Sandra was bigger and taller than me, but she had flab on her. I heard her breathing heavily whenever she had to climb more than one flight of stairs. I, on the other hand, went to the gym a few times each week. I had younger brothers I used to wrestle all of the time. And my hair, cut short, was not a liability.

After I swatted her hand away, I grabbed her hair and pulled her head down to the floor. I put her in a headlock and let her struggle for a while, face down, on hands and knees, her plump ass wiggling in the air. Sandra was wearing her typical gray suit, with the jacket off, and a white blouse. The skirt was drawn tight around her hips, and brushed against the pantyhose she wore underneath. She was trying to elbow me, so I straddled her and pulled her arms up in a full nelson. Her cloying perfume filled my nostrils. Her face was right next to mine. As she kept bucking, her lower back rubbed against my inner thighs, giving me surprisingly pleasant sensations.

Sandra gasped, "Let me go, you crazy bitch! Get off me!"

"You're the one who took a swing at me," I said into her ear. The scent of perfume on her was becoming one of sweat, and panic.

She flew into a paroxysm of rage, trying to throw me off, but I wedged my shoulder under the desk and wouldn't let her up. It must have been a sight to see – a little woman like me holding her down. My thighs squeezed her ribs, pressing back against every heaving breath she took. Sandra paused, and then tried to shake me off a second time, grunting with the effort. Again she could not, and she lay there, panting.

"I'm sorry," she squeaked.

I rolled her over onto her back and straddled her again. She was flushed and still breathing hard.

"You could probably stay," I said. "If I told them I need you." I rubbed my chin, as if in thought. "Maybe as my temp legal assistant..."

Sandra hawked and spat right in my face.

"Oh," I said, grinning evilly. "You're gonna regret that." Wiping her phlegm off my mouth, I spun around, crouching over her face. She tried to twist away, but she was still short of breath. I took a handful of her hair and forced her onto her belly, clamping my knees around her head. Now I was facing her lower body. Her skirt was rucked up nearly to her crotch, exposing her legs as they kicked and squirmed uselessly. Every time she struggled, I squeezed her head. I reached for a statute book on the floor and yanked her skirt up over her ass. She wore regulation sky blue panties under her hose. With every word, I smacked her ass with the book.

"I. Am. Better. Than. You."

Sandra screamed in anger and shock, but as my thighs constricted her, her screams wilted into muffled gasps against the carpet.

"You. Will. Never. Spit. On. Me. Again."

"Please, stop!" she cried.

"You. Will. Never. Call. Me. Bitch. Again.” The last few spanks resounded with deep, satisfying claps.

Sandra whimpered quietly.

I spanked her some more, just for the fun of it, but I loosened my grip on her. She had stopped struggling. I noticed a darker patch in her panties.

"You slut! You're wet!"

I let her go, standing over her. She rolled onto her back, lying there silently.

That moment was a turning point. I looked into her green eyes and saw that I had won. All of the malice I felt towards her flowed out of me like water through a sieve. I could have left her there, humiliated on the floor, and she would never have given me trouble again.

But I saw that subtle pleading on her face. She was waiting for me to do something – hoping I would do something more. I never thought of myself as gay, but all of that rubbing against her, smelling her, spanking her… it got me hot. It’s not like I wanted to kiss her or anything, but I thought, what could a little mutual satisfaction hurt?

I gazed down at her flushed face, trying to decide what to do with her. Then I unbuckled my black pants and slid them off. I grabbed a letter opener and sat square on her head. Slipping the letter opener under the waistband of her laddered pantyhose, I ripped them open. Then I did the same for her schoolgirl panties, yanking and twisting them until they tore off. Her untrimmed bush was moist with dew.

I began to grow unsure of myself. But, feeling her warm breath on my panties, watching that quivering, meaty slit, I just had to play with it. Her legs spread at the slightest push. I slapped her pink bits lightly, hearing Sandra whimper in response, and seeing little droplets of her juices spatter.

Scooting forward to get my fingers in, I felt the delicious tingling of her nose pressing into my panty-covered butt. So I lifted up a bit and rubbed myself over her face. Then I just had to have it against my bare pussy. I stood up, quickly shed the offending thong, and planted myself on her sweaty face again.

"Eat it."

Sandra rolled her head to the side.

I rolled her face upwards again. Her arms thrashed, until I pinned them under my shins, ignoring her muffled moans of protest.

"Eat it, or I won't touch you again."

I felt the tentative flickers of Sandra's tongue.

"That's it. Do it right, Sandra." I rubbed against her, closing my eyes.

Her tongue began to dart into my pussy. If I shifted, I could get it anywhere from my asshole to my clit, and I did, over and over again.

"Yeah, that's it, baby." I played with her clit.

Soon I had her thrusting her pussy up to me. She kicked off her heels and locked her ankles around my upper back, presenting me with her dripping, needy snatch. I pushed a finger into it with one hand while I continued to rub her clit. Her legs were heavy, but if I rocked backwards, I could ease the pressure. Her mouth made wet little smacking sounds underneath me.

Eventually, I could thrust three fingers into her gaping hole. She moaned urgently until she began convulsing in a drawn out orgasm.

I stood up over her prone body and reversed myself. This time, when I sat down her nose pressed against my clit, and her tongue returned dutifully to the inside of my pussy. I realized her tongue must be getting tired from thrusting, but it felt wonderful. I caressed her forehead and matted hair.

"That's it, baby. Just like that. Oh yes..." Her arms wrapped around my thighs to draw herself deeper into me. I bounced a little, pressing against her nose until I felt the spasms wash over my body. As I cried out, Sandra dutifully lapped up my juices.

I slumped off of her, looking at her glistening face. She just lay there, rolled so that she was facing away from me.

“Was it true, what you told me?”

“Yes. About the promotion. But they might keep you, if you want to stay,” I replied. "I gotta go pee," I said. "Then I'm gonna go home. I'll see you tomorrow, OK?"

Sandra didn’t answer. I pulled on my pants and called a car for myself. It was late, and she wasn’t talking, so I left.

What I told Sandra had been true, and I knew because Warren Braun, the partner we worked for on most of our cases, told me. Warren confided in me because I had been sucking his dick for over a year. I wasn't just sucking him off. I had fucked him a couple of times at my apartment, but in the office, I sucked his dick. Warren was nice, fair, and pretty handsome for an older man. Besides, there's something about a dick that just cries out to be sucked. And there is nothing more delicious than the feeling of power you get when a man is groaning and convulsing as he shoots off in your mouth.

So, the day before my confrontation with Sandra, he had clued me in. "Your work is more solid, you're young, and I think you have a better future at this firm," he had said, wearily. I was sitting on his desk, checking my face in my compact mirror for traces of cum.

I found a few drops and licked them off my fingers. "I'm not her biggest fan – you know that – but it's kind of harsh, don't you think? I mean, who's going to hire her now, after she's been here so long and is still an associate?"

I never wanted Sandra to get fired. She would go off thinking she lost her job because of some affirmative action handout. I just wanted her to know I was better. And, maybe a little, I wanted to humiliate her.

"Actually, it's probably the other way around,” Warren replied. “If she realizes she isn't making senior associate anytime soon, she'll probably want to leave. And I don't know if we can justify the cost of having another person anymore. And then there is such a thing as sex discrimination. The associates who came in with her are either seniors to her or they've left. All men."

I had an idea. "Warren, what if she took a cut in pay, and still wanted to stay?"

He mussed his hair, on the top, where it was still brown. "Alice, what are you talking about?"

"I'll handle it. She'll make the choice voluntarily. She won't sue, and the worst thing that could happen is that she'll decide to leave anyway."

He frowned. "I don't know..."

I told him more about the plan that was forming in my mind while I took off my blouse. Twenty minutes later, as I was drooling over his dick again, he came enthusiastically to endorse my proposal.

So, when I came home from my encounter with Sandra, I called Warren and told him everything.

“What do you think she’ll do?”

“She’ll stay.” I said. “Where’s she going to go?” Seven years as a junior associate at Watkins would not look good on her resume.

“Well, we’ll find out tomorrow. Get some sleep, Alice.”

The next day, though, I didn’t see her all morning. I went by her office twice and she wasn’t in. I started to think I had misjudged her.

Maybe she just took the day off to think about it,

I told myself.

Just after lunch Warren called.

"She came in this morning," he said, shortly.

"What happened?"

"You want to hear the whole story?" he teased.

"Yes, dammit. Tell me."

"Well, she comes in practically before I could even sit down. 'Warren, is it true that they're letting me go?' she asked me.

“I said, 'The decision hasn't been made yet, but it kinda looks that way.'

“'But why?' she whined.

“I said, 'Well, it looks like we're going to go with Alice. I'm sorry you had to hear - however you heard. But speaking of Alice, she told me you were, should I say, behaving inappropriately last night.'

“'Me!' she said. 'She made me - she did everything! Warren, please, I know you don't make the decision, but you could put in a good word for me. Alice even said, last night...'

“I interrupted her. 'The way I heard it, you were giving her head at the time. I mean, Sandra, if you were doing that to me, I probably would've said the same thing.' And Alice, before I could say a word, Sandra dropped to the floor and began unbuckling my pants. And I thought, maybe I should stop her. But then I realized; I didn't tell her to give me a blowjob.

“I'd have to say, she wasn’t that good, but she makes up for her lack of skill with effort. Alice, she must have licked my dick, sucked on the head, and jammed it down her throat for a good ten minutes. I had to practically drag her off of it, because her slobbering was making a wet spot in my pants. I stood her up. The drool was still hanging from her chin. I pulled her skirt up to her waist and yanked down her hose and panties.

“Alice, her underwear was soaked. I’ve never seen a woman who creams as much as Sandra. I left the tangle around her ankles, and went to lock my door. She just stood there, bashfully, with her wet chin and her pantyhose pooled around her feet. One look at her, and I ripped off my pants. I sat on the floor and pulled her head back down over my cock. Since her ass was up in the air, I reached over her and fingered her pussy.

“I think Sandra is much better at sucking cock now. Every so often I pulled her up to show her where I was most sensitive and where to put her hands. I had her lick my balls and I fed her her own cream off of my fingers. When I got close to coming, I got behind her and sank my dick right into her pussy. I started fucking her nice and slow, but she was moaning so loud I had to stop. Even after I told her to shut up, she kept moaning. So I pulled the hose and panties all the way off her feet, balled them up and stuffed them in her mouth. Then I plunged back into that sopping wet pussy. I never thought that prim and proper woman I had worked with for seven years was such a good fuck. She put her face to the floor and rammed her ass back on my dick. Alice, I can't tell you how good it feels to have nice, soft ass cheeks like hers slapping against your crotch while you fuck.

When I was ready to cum, I pulled out, turned her around, and fed it to her. I told her I'd see what I could do to keep her on, while I folded her panties up neatly and put them in my front drawer. Her blouse was all wet, so she left that with me too. She went back to her office just wearing her suit jacket, bra, heels, and skirt."

While Warren was telling me this, I closed the door and thrust a hand in my panties to rub my clit. I couldn't believe that I had turned this conservative, repressed woman into such a complete tramp overnight. She went from gulping down my pussy juice after work to getting fucked on the floor the next morning! Pretty soon, I was coming all over my fingers.

Dizzily, I realized Warren had stopped talking. “Was that just now? Warren, I went by Sandra’s office twice this morning, and it didn’t look like she’d been in it at all.”

“Well, after about twenty minutes, I couldn’t concentrate, and I was getting hard again,” he said. “So I called her back for lunch.”

“You went out?”

“No. She had her lunch on her knees. I’m going to the deli later. Listen, Alice, I’ve been putting Abe Vargas off all day. I need to get to work.”

As soon as I could get my hand out of my panties, I called Sandra to my office.

She didn’t come until the end of the day. She sat down, barely even saying hello. Clasping her hands, Sandra looked at the floor.

"Are you OK? I’m a little concerned," I told her. I was worried. I didn’t want Sandra to go home for the weekend and overdose on sleeping pills or something. It was all so unlike her.

She didn't answer for a long time. Then she shook her head. "No. I... I don't know what's happening to me."

Sandra started to wipe her eyes. "I used to hate you, you know. Or maybe it wasn’t hate. Maybe it was jealousy. You’re young, pretty, and you are really smart Alice. I think you’ll do really well here.” She burst into tears.

I reached for her and hugged her to me, rubbing her back. “It’s OK,” I said. “I’m really sorry about last night. I just wanted to humiliate you. I don’t want you to lose your job.” I smelled Warren’s cum on her breath, remembering that she was practically naked under her jacket and skirt. For all of the tenderness of the moment, I wanted so badly to plunge her head into my crotch.

“You know…” she sobbed after a moment, “I really got excited last night. When I realized you had total control over me, this rush came over me. It was like I’ve had all of this pressure built up in me, for years.” She pulled back and looked me in the face. “I gave in to you and all the pressure just flowed right out of me – all the worry, the stress about being single, about being unwanted, about having a dead-end career – it all just disappeared. It was like I had no more responsibility.

“It was nice for a night. Well, a night and a day,” she said, oblivious to the fact that I knew about her day’s adventures in cocksucking. “But I probably will get fired anyway.”

I caressed her face. “I don’t think you’re going to be fired. Let’s go talk to Warren. I’ll bet he’s staying late tonight.”

As we went to Warren’s office, I realized that I had felt the same sort of rush Sandra had, when I saw the submissive look on her face, when I heard her whimper. Sandra and I had been friends; even if she was talking shit about me, she apologized for that. I didn’t think I was into women – but I was into dominating Sandra.

The three of us had a long discussion in Warren’s office, and he assured her that he would do everything he could to keep her job. I think she felt a little better after that. We also told Sandra each of us knew about the other’s encounter with her.

Finally, Sandra said, “Well, it’s getting late, and I wanted to finish that 370 memorandum.”