Dixie Saga

Chapter 4: Video Dixie

Dixie’s Office

November 6, 10:07 a.m.

Dixie had chosen her Power Suit to wear today. A navy blue skirt that hung just past her knees, a matching tailored jacket with a white silk blouse with a touch of frill in the form of a bow at the collar. The ensemble was completed with simple strap pumps with three-inch heels.

She was proud of her office. She had worked long and hard to get promoted off the floor. It wasn’t a corner office, and it didn’t have a great view. But she was on her way up the building, as well as the corporate ladder.

She had worked most of the morning on the decorating of a new motel that was going in downtown. It would be a lucrative contract if she could find a pattern that the owner would find attractive and contemporary. A task that wasn’t getting any easier with every idea that she presented.

Willow stuck her head in the door. She confused Dixie even though they had both been friends for a long time. Willow was a shapely redhead who was smart as a whip. But she seemed to be perfectly content to be Dixie’s secretary, while Dixie made the climb up the corporate ladder. Willow was making the assumption that Dixie would always pull her along by asking for her specifically.

“Mail call,” Willow said when Dixie waved her in. “Nothing good; just this.” Willow held out a plain brown package. Dixie took the package and looked at the front of it.

“Can’t make out anything on that postmark. It looks like it got wet.” Dixie said. “So it could be from anywhere.”

“I thought those postmarks were supposed to be waterproofed?” Willow asked. “Shall we open it and see what’s in it?”

“Sure, you go ahead. That way if it’s a letter bomb I might survive.”

“Ugh!” Willow made a face as she opened the envelope. “Honestly, Dixie, I don’t know where you get your ideas. Why would someone send you a letter bomb?”

“Calm down, Willow.” Dixie said defensively. “I was just kidding.”

“I know.” Willow said peering into the envelope. “But how many times do I have to say it: If you focus on the negative then the negative is sure to – OUCH!” Willow jerked her hand out of the envelope and let it fall to the floor. She cradled her finger in her other hand as blood welled on the tip of her finger.

“Willow!” Dixie exclaimed, as she came around her desk to get a look at the finger.

“It’s nothing,” Willow said, licking the blood away.

“That is so gross, Willow. Couldn’t you have waited until you were away before you did that?”

“What?” Willow looked up from her finger confused.

“That’s it.” Dixie said playfully. “Enough is enough.” She took Willow by the shoulders and guided her friend to the door of her office. “Back to work. Enough dallying.”

As Dixie closed the door to her office she turned to go back to her desk. She noticed the envelope still lying on the floor. Curious now, she went and picked up the envelope and peered inside. Nestled in the envelope was an innocent looking VHS tape. Dixie couldn’t imagine how Willow had cut herself on videotape.

Dixie went over to the TV with built-in VCR and turned it on. In Dixie’s line of work, it was often necessary to see the interior of a building, light sources, and numerous other details. Whenever Dixie went to view a place, and to find out what the client wanted, she often brought a video camera along. It allowed her to take a second look without having to revisit the property.

She inserted the tape and pressed play. Then she went back to her desk and sat down. For a moment Dixie looked about for her remote, before she remembered that it was on the bookshelf behind her. She turned, grabbed the remote, and turned back. Then she leaned back in her chair, ready to see whatever was on the tape. As with every time she started a tape, she couldn’t help wishing she had some popcorn.

The screen was black for about 2 seconds before it faded into an office scene that seemed vaguely familiar to Dixie, although she couldn’t say for sure why. The action started promptly with a dark-haired woman walking into the office. The shot was from far enough that Dixie couldn’t see her face very clearly, although she could tell the woman had hair that very nearly matched her own.

Seeing what the woman was wearing made Dixie grimace slightly. It was a perversion of the office power suit. A black leather skirt that only came to mid-thigh was topped by a tight white silk blouse that was open far enough down to show a healthy amount of cleavage; not that the tightness of the blouse left much to the imagination anyway. Six-inch heels finished the ensemble, adding remarkable stress to the woman’s nice legs.

The woman went over behind the desk and sat down. Her head bowed as though she was studying some papers on the desk. This was the moment that Dixie half expected some cheesy title to appear on the screen. But it didn’t happen. There was a minute pause, and then the office door opened again. A redhead that was dressed about the same way as her boss stuck her head in the door.

“The Veshca’s are here, boss.” She said in sultry tones.

“Show them in,” the woman behind the desk said as she looked up.

The redhead opened the door a bit wider and stood dutifully to the side as a shapely black woman strode through the door. She wore a white strapless latex dress that could have been painted on. In the back it dipped so low that the beginning curve of her buttocks could be seen. In the front the material plunged all the way down to just below her belly button. Dixie was sure that the only thing holding the dress on was the lacing that pulled the dress tight both in the front and back. This single-piece dress ended two-thirds of the way down the woman’s shapely thighs.

Behind her was a swarthy looking man whose race was oddly hard to place. He had short, dark hair and was tanned so deeply that he could almost have been a Negroid. But his slim, hooked nose and thin lips belied this. He wore black dress shoes, black pants that were sharply creased, a black silk shirt, white vest, and a black jacket. He was obviously in great shape and moved like a dancer might.

Behind him strode the last of the ‘Veshca party’: a young oriental woman with long black hair that easily reached the middle of her back. Her figure so closely matched that of the black woman that Dixie imagined it had been a chore to find them. She wore the same type of dress that the other woman had worn, except hers was black latex.

“Oh, and close the blinds, won’t you?” The woman behind the desk said.

Dixie expected the redhead to go over to the big windows letting light into the office. But she was surprised when the redhead flipped a switch next to the door. The blinds over the windows separating the office from the rest of the building silently slid closed. The redhead walked out of the office without a word, closing the door behind her.

The man had taken the only seat in front of the desk. After backing it away from the desk a bit, he sat down. The women had taken up places about three paces behind him, and a bit to each side. The woman behind the desk smiled slightly. Dixie felt like she should recognize that smile, the face. But she couldn’t quite place it.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Veshca?” She said.

The camera held a tight close-up of his face as he prepared his reply. His gray eyes seemed so very out of place in that dark face. They seemed to bore into Dixie’s eyes as he spoke.

“Are you prepared to serve, Dixie?”

Dixie closed her eyes and pressed a palm to her head as vertigo suddenly overtook her. Of course! She mentally kicked herself for not recognizing the office. Even the redheaded receptionist should have been a dead give-away. The woman behind the desk could have easily passed for her twin. She had known she should have recognized the face! Dixie opened her eyes and looked up. Her eyes opened wide in shock and surprise.

In her office sat the three people from the video! Dixie stood up and nearly fell. She looked down to find herself dressed in the same outfit that the woman in the video had been wearing. It was the six-inch heels that had nearly caused her to fall. Shakily she walked around to the front of the desk. Over the man's shoulder she saw the TV. It showed only static.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me, Dixie,” the man said. “Are you ready to serve?”

“I don’t know what the hell is going on here,” Dixie said. “But it is going to stop right now!”

“Ladies,” the man said as he stood up and took off his jacket.

The two women approached Dixie on either side. Dixie was in such a state of shock that she allowed the women to gently lay her on the floor. As one each took two silk cords from a hidden pocket. They placed Dixie’s arms straight out from her sides and laid a cord over each wrist. Then each woman moved down and placed their strong hands on Dixie’s ankles. Still moving together, they spread her legs wide.

Dixie suddenly began to struggle. But somehow the silken cords kept her hands firmly in place. The women’s grasp on her ankles was just as unrealistic and just as implacable. No matter how hard she struggled she couldn’t even budge the women as her legs were spread apart. When the short skirt began to press against Dixie’s sides the women placed the second silken cord over her ankles. The two women stood up. Dixie turned her head back until she could see the man standing above her.

“Ladies, oil.” the man said. His voice was smooth and cultured. “Dixie,” the man sighed. “You seem so oblivious to what is going on around you. Yet, I know so much about you.” The man took off his vest and laid it neatly on top of his jacket. “For example I know that Dixie is a nickname. Your real name is Terri. You took the nickname from a play you starred in when you were in high school.” The man pulled off his shirt and laid it with his other clothes in the chair.

Dixie couldn’t help but admire his physique. The skin of his arms and body had that same swarthy tone as his face did. His chest had a light sprinkle of hair across it. The muscles were finally cut and rippled appealing as he moved.

Dixie nearly yelped with surprise as she felt cold metal at her wrists. She looked back down to find that both of the women had settled back into kneeling positions at her sides. From somewhere they produced thin, short knifes. They inserted the knives at the sleeves of her blouse. In one motion the women sliced upward through the sleeves of the blouse, splitting the arms and laying her arms bare.

The Asian woman sliced down the front of the blouse. Three additional cuts removed her bra. The black woman sliced the skirt from waist to hem and folded the pieces back. Two final cuts left her completely naked.

Each woman produced a small bottle of oil. The Asian woman began rubbing oil at Dixie’s temples. Then she began working the neck muscles, moving on down to her shoulders. The black woman began with a foot massage, and then began working oil into her calves.

“I know,” the man was saying, “that Bob does not satisfy you any longer. That you long for something more… intense.”

Dixie couldn’t help but relax. The oil on her skin seemed to radiate a sort of sexual warmth. Where each woman’s hands were rubbing her bare skin glowed with wonderful feeling. Dixie closed her eyes and sighed. ‘If only Bob could make me feel like this’, she thought. As the black woman’s hands crept up higher on her legs, the Asian woman’s hands got closer to her hard nipples.

“I know, for example,” the man said, “that Willow would believe that she had gone to heaven under the ministrations of my lovely assistants. But you require a more masculine touch.”

‘What was that about Willow?’ Dixie asked herself. She had begun to focus more and more on the hands, and less on what the man was saying. But the thought was gone in a flash. In perfect unison hands rubbed across her crotch and each nipple at the same time. Dixie’s hips thrust upward of their own accord trying to pierce herself. But the hand was skillful and prevented it, while maintaining the erotic touch.

Suddenly the hands were gone from her body. Dixie let out a low moan and opened her eyes. The two women had sat back, hands on their turned up legs. A silk string rested in each hand.

“So I ask you again, Dixie: are you ready to serve?”

Dixie rolled over onto her stomach so she could look at where the voice came from. Her eyes beheld a wonderful sample of manhood, and it was completely bare. Somewhere back in her mind she heard a voice protesting, but she quickly squashed the voice. All she cared about at this moment was the need. She desperately wanted something, anything against her body to relieve the ache.

“Oh, yes!” Dixie replied, her voice heavy with lust. She started to stand up to go to him.

“Stop!” He said and Dixie froze. “You may come to me. But you must crawl.”

Dixie dropped back to her stomach and looked at him for a moment. Then she began to use her knees to push herself forward. Her body pushing over the carpet only served to excite her even more. When she reached she looked up at him, waiting.

“Very well, you may kiss me,” he said approvingly. Once again Dixie started to stand only to have him place his hands on her shoulders and push her back down. “I never told you to get off your knees,” he said.

Dixie smiled and kissed him at waist level. She began to run her tongue down t he length of him. She explored every angle and turn of him with her tongue. Then she took him into her mouth, slowly at first. Just an inch, before pulling back. Then deeper, until she was taking his entire length into her mouth.

Dixie felt his hands grasping her head, so that he could control the thrusts into her mouth. As he did so, Dixie’s hand sought out her nipples, teasing and pulling at them. Her other hand shot between her legs trying to ease some of her frustration.

Just as Dixie was about to find release he pulled away from her. Going to his knees he pulled Dixie’s hands away from herself and laid her back on the floor. Then he straddled her, placing his hardness between her breasts. Dixie knew what he wanted. She took her hands and held her breasts around him. As he began to thrust again she tucked her chin down so that with each thrust his head came into contact with her lips. Dixie loved the sensation, although she was she that he got more out of it than she did. She could feel the tension building in him.

Then he stopped. Slowly he slid his hardness down her body until he was positioned between her legs. With his first thrust Dixie began to spasm. She wanted his thrusting to never end. Her legs wrapped around his, meeting his thrusts with thrusts of her own. She could feel the tension building in him. She knew that when he came she would have the most intense orgasm she had ever felt. He drew back for the final thrust….

The door of the office opened. Willow poked her head through the door.

“Lunch time,” she called out. Dixie, who was setting behind her desk, looked up. She blinked a couple of times. Then she stood up.

“I like the new look,” Willow said.

Dixie looked down. She was wearing a black mini-skirt, a tight white silk shirt, and six-inch heels.