Stephanie Goins knew exactly what lay ahead of her as she entered the office that morning. Figures and more figures to look over, and limitlessly it seemed. That was her job, her money earner, and it was fairly lucrative. Being an up-market accountant, she was always in demand. What she was less certain of, on this bright summer morning, were the demands that would be made on that secret part of her mind.
That would only become clear when Gerald, the permanent manager of this company, had quickly defined the real requirements of that part of her mind. As usual, her trim figure was clad in what she considered her work clothes. A white blouse which was of the perfect tension to favor her shapely breasts, and a tight black skirt, which was buttoned from below to permit a wayward hand to reach her inner thigh and beyond.
But when she really entered her other mode there was a wardrobe where she kept an array of changes, so she could dress herself according to demand. Just as she settled behind her desk there was a knock at her door and Jasmine, the junior clerk, came in clutching a number of files. After a greeting she said, "Seems like a load of work this morning."
"Just lay them on the desk there," Stephanie told her, noticing that Gerald, wearing his usual dark shirt, and supercilious grin had appeared in the doorway.
"Morning, Stephanie. Morning Jasmine." He nodded at the pile of files, "Looks like a busy day."
"That's what I said, Mr. Ford," Jasmine replied with a shy smile in Stephanie's direction, she went out and Gerald Ford closed the door. Then, his grin widened, he walked casually to where Stephanie was sitting, already she had a fair idea of what was coming.
Leaning over her, Gerald licked along her cheek, before whispering, "How many times last night, you fucking whore?" Oh, yes, early signs of something. Gerald's hand had slipped inside the neckline of her blouse and was groping for her breast. "Ugh, a bra? They're not drooping, are they?"
Stephanie's breath shuddered in her throat, as his fingers probed beneath the bra and squeezed a nipple. "You know they're not," she told him, adding, "I've got a load of work to get on with."
"You fucking cow, you're going to need all your energy for tonight. You're giving a special, so expect to be home late, harlot."
"Special?"
"All new. If you made money from your -- er -- skills, you'd make a fortune tonight. This client is in the super rich class. But is always seeking publicity."
"I'm not a prostitute," Stephanie said coldly, hating that implication, despite his crude way of addressing her. She needed his abusive name-calling. The needs that teemed through her mind went far beyond that. "What have you told this guy?"
"Just that you're hot, willing, and love an audience." He was staring at her, his lips parted, his eyes clouded. "God, I could fuck you right now." He paused and moved in close, "That can wait. Are you wet?"
"You know I will be," Stephanie told him. All of this was standard to their relationship, although Stephanie did not see it as a relationship.
"Turn your seat," Gerald commanded, when she had swiveled round, he flicked at two lower buttons. "Just a quick feel to warm you up."
Within seconds, his fingers had slid up her bare inner thigh to flutter inside her panty line, from clit to the wet entry where they poked as deeply as possible in the constrained circumstances. Her major sensation was one of being prepared. All part of the build-up.
Gerald drew back his fingers, sniffed at them and gave an appreciative moan, before walking to the door, "I think the guys would appreciate a lunchtime practice."
Stephanie was not surprised. Evening seemed a long way off. "The conference room?" She asked, knowing it always was.
Gerald nodded, "As usual, Madam Cunt."
"Are you going to be number one?" She asked.
His lewd grin said it all, "Can't you tell?"
Of course, she could tell. Stephanie knew that whatever humiliations were piled on her at lunchtime, the ultimate would go to Gerald, and whatever depravity he chose to inflict upon her. She would end up being salaciously wanton, brought on by all that had gone before. When he was gone, Stephanie collected her thoughts, and tried to settle to what was her vocation.
Not easy. Her pulse had quickened, her breathing was faster and came in shorter gasps. There was a prickling on her skin and nausea and butterflies fought in her stomach. All of this because of Gerald's touch and promise of lunchtime, which seemed a long time distant.
Still that wouldn't be a new situation. She had performed there at the whim of a select band of three male staff and one woman, Carmen, who was off sick at the moment. Stephanie adored being an exhibitionist and absorbing the delights of sexual degradation that went with it.
Now, approaching the age of thirty, it had taken Stephanie some time to evaluate her own attitude to sex. She got through a full year at university without succumbing to the lusts of male students, although their constant nudges and lustful gazes stirred her. She had usually resolved her perverse feelings by finding some pleasure in touching herself.
When she was almost twenty, already aware that this was never going to be enough, she had the company of her two cousins staying at her parent's home. Shelly was Stephanie's age, and David was nineteen. Shelly had shared Stephanie's room. One night, they were having an intimate discussion about their sensual feelings, and, when they each admitted fingering their own clit, it was a small step to finding extra pleasure in huddling on Stephanie's bed, groping each other under their wide summer skirts.
They even kissed, and Stephanie was wondering whether this might be a path to lesbianism, when the bedroom door was flung open and big, muscular David was standing there, his eyes wide, first with surprise, but soon with something else.
"Well, well, how about that?" He looked at his sister, and said, "I only came to tell you, Mom wants to see you." All shame-faced, Shelly raced out of the room, while David quietly closed the door, and turned to face Stephanie, a lop-sided grin on his face.
Stephanie, worried at first, had decided to brazen it out. "You won't tell on her, will you?" She soon learned the price for his silence when he ordered her to remove her blouse. "Come on. I want to see them."
There was a vague fluttering in her chest, which she wasn't sure was fear or something else. David's eyes had strayed over her body, and his request suddenly seemed quite logical. "Now the bra." He would see her bare breasts. Shouldn't she feel resistant? But having felt a surprising reaction to his eyes on her bra, she hardly hesitated and the bra dropped to the floor.
God, what a warm feeling, as his eyes stroked over her breasts, like lasers into her very being, making her wet between her thighs. Immediately, Stephanie realized that those eyes on her breasts could be opening a new era of her life.
How was she going to feel when he viewed her total nakedness? When his demand came, she promptly pushed down her skirt and panties. David's eyes burned over her skin. She loved being looked at. It was like being caressed from a distance. But he didn't try to touch her, and Stephanie was scolding herself for being slightly disappointed.
Learning about herself was swift from that point. The delight in displaying herself grew stronger. But she had known that eyes were not enough. Slowly she began to find that she needed a sense of degradation, of humiliation to add to her total absorption in any sexual activity. Much of her pleasure seemed to be centered in her mind rather than in the sheer physical joys that ensued.
Now, here she was, behind her office desk hotly awaiting another session at lunchtime. Stephanie was always excited about what demands would be made upon her. On a slowly building high, she managed to get through her paid work.
As the clock on the wall neared midday, Stephanie's inner heat increased, as it always did. Mad anticipation of having her body viewed, fingered, and explored, had her juices soaking her panties. They needed replacing before any activity, so she went through to the small toilet, and opened the cupboard where she kept a week's supply.