The following is a departure for me. It is pure fiction; and although Becky, Rachel and Lisa are all very much real (and part of my everyday life); their actions as portrayed here are nothing more than fantasy. Why this disclosure? A future posting will reveal!
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It was shortly after 8:00 P.M. on a Friday night in late March. I had just finished reviewing another pile of tax returns and was ready to call it a day. The intercom rang. I answered.
"Yes?"
"Misses Samuels, your presence is requested in the conference room. Now!"
The voice was that of my secretary, Lisa.
"Pardon?!"
"You heard me!"
Abruptly, Lisa hung up.
More than a little irritated, I rose from my desk, stormed angrily down the hall, and flung open the door to the conference room. "Who the hell do you think . . ." I began, then stopped short.
A long-legged, willowy blonde (woman) stared me down, then said, "If you know what's good for you, I suggest you lose the attitude and shut the fuck up. Understood?"
Confusion reigned. My eyes darted about the room. The conference table was pushed against the opposite wall, with a large beach towel spread out in its former place. In the far corner, the chairs were arranged in a half circle, facing the towel. Seated there – all dressed in navy skirts, with matching blazers, high heels and white blouses – were my good friend, Becky (several years my senior); my protégé, Rachel (a few years my junior); and my secretary, Lisa (young enough to be my daughter).
"Allow me to introduce myself." the blonde began, "My name is Veronica Walters. I specialize in corporate takeovers. Not the kind you're thinking of, though."
My composure regained, it was my turn to stare-down Veronica. "Exactly what kind of takeovers do you specialize in?!"
"The kind where employees takeover and make their bosses into their sex slaves for an hour or two; or three; or more."
"What?!" I sputtered.
"You heard her, Chris." Rachel said, "For the next few hours, you're going to be our sex slave."
"Just remember who signs the paychecks around here!" I snapped.
Veronica walked up to me and stood as close as humanly possible. "The same person who will keep signing them." she said.
I drew a breath . . . Started to speak . . . Couldn't. Her scent . . . Her . . . intoxicating perfume had my senses spinning.
"Now. Take off your clothes." she said softly.
I hesitated.
"Something wrong?" Veronica asked, "Afraid someone will walk in? See you stripping for us?"
Again, I drew a breath . . . Started to speak . . . couldn't.
"The men have all gone home for the day." Veronica continued, "The girls didn't want to share you with them. But if it will make you feel any better, go ahead and lock the door."
Another breath.
"Go ahead." Veronica said, with a fearsome degree of sternness.
Like a child scared of the price of disobedience, I hurriedly closed and locked the door.
"Now. Take off; your clothes." Veronica said in a bone chilling tone.
Anger built, I turned to confront her. "What if I refuse?!"
"We'll do it for you." Lisa said.
My eyes darted to her.
Then to Becky.
Lastly to Rachel.
Becky crossed her legs (knee over knee), leaned forward (resting elbow on knee; chin in hand), then shot me a raised eyebrow. Rachel followed suit, her expression sporting a 'try me' grin.
"The choice is yours." Veronica said.
Slowly, I unbuttoned my blouse, and removed it. My skirt went next. Then my heels, stockings, bra and panties.
"See? That wasn't so hard." Veronica said, displaying the most sickening sweet smile, as she collected my clothing.
I could feel my face (and everything else) redden with embarrassment/ anger.
Veronica issued another sickening sweet smile. "Lisa!" she announced.
My secretary rose from her seat. I met her gaze, and gave her my most intimidating stare. To my surprise, she returned it, and approached, removing a pair of clover clamps from her pocket as she did.
Trepidation welling, I involuntarily drew a sharp breath. Lisa stopped, shook her head and rolled her eyes. Acrimony built within me. Amusement within her. She smiled; took a single, purpose-filled step forward, then stopped once more. Determined to win the test of wills, I wet my lips, and raised a 'what now' eyebrow. In response, she heaved a disgusted sigh, then took another, purpose-filled step forward. Another. Then another, and another, until she met me toe to toe. I pursed my lips, and raised both eyebrows. She cocked her head to one side, then dangled the clamps mere inches from my nose.
I tried to appear unfazed.
She cocked her head to the other side, then fit the first clamp in place over my right nipple and snugged it.
Once more, I drew a sharp breath.
Another disgusted . . . make that: self-satisfied sigh, as she repeated on my left.
I tossed back my hair, and gave her my best nonplus look.
Mockingly, she mirrored my expression. "If only you knew who you are screwing with." she said, running her index finger along the fourteen inch long chain that linked the clamps.
"I have a pretty good idea." I said softly, yet forcefully.
Lisa smiled, lightly stroked my cheek, then slapped me hard.
"Rachel?" Veronica said with a laugh.
Lisa spun, and returned to her seat. My associate rose, then advanced.
From where, I'm still not quite sure, she produced a rather sizable ball gag. "Open wide." she said.
I hesitated.
"Don't make her tell you again." Veronica cautioned.
I drew a deep breath. Let it out. Opened my mouth to accept the gag.
"Good girl." Rachel said with a smug smile as she fit the gag in place and secured the strap.
"Christina," Veronica said, her tone daring challenge, "please keep in mind that you are not in charge here. We are. When you are told to do something, it IS in your best interest to follow through immediately. Understood?"
A chill ran through me. "Yes Mistress." I muttered into the gag.
"Good." Veronica said, "Then we understand one another?"
Slowly, I nodded.
"Becky." she said, "Your turn."
My good friend stood and smoothed her skirt. "Kneel on the towel." she said, "Your back to us."
Without qualms, I did as told.
"Down on your forearms." Veronica added.
Readily, I complied.
"Now for the fun part!" Becky laughed.
As she spoke, I glanced back and watched her kick off her shoes and don a rubber glove.
"What. . . what are you going to do?" I asked; my words made unintelligible by the gag.
Like the others, Becky gave me a smug/ self-satisfied smile, then walked over, and knelt next to me. "Veronica? Would you spread her butt cheeks for me?" she asked.
"Certainly."
I braced, as Veronica's slender fingers invaded my cleft and pried me apart to expose my puckered hole.
"A little more." Becky said.
"How's this?" Veronica asked.
"Perfect!"
With my cheeks spread painfully apart, Becky's gloved finger coated my rim with a slimy ginger paste, then forced a large amount inside. Immediately, the fire began to burn.
"Hold her still." Becky said, in her soft, soothing voice.
Veronica's fingers dug in even more. I braced. Winced, as Becky inserted the nozzle of an enema bottle into my burning bung and quickly dispatched its full contents. With my butt on fire, I tried to protest as she administered the second.
The ball gag thwarted me.
A laugh; from Becky. "Time for number three!"
Again, I stupidly tried to protest.
Another laugh. "Number four!"
Never had I felt so . . . full.
Veronica released her grip. "Lisa." she said with her voice dripping of contempt, "Start the timer."
"How long?" Lisa asked.
"Fifteen minutes." Rachel answered with a laugh.
"Make it twenty!" Becky said with a laugh of her own.
I groaned, as the fluid migrated further in.
"Thirty." Veronica said, her voice emotionless.
Lisa set the timer, then stared at it. "So. What happens; now?" she asked, with a dramatic flare, that bordered on the absurd.
"So glad you asked." Veronica replied, with an equal degree of over-acting, " You, Rachel and I get to sit back and watch, while Becky masturbates her."
My mind spun out of control. "What did she just say?!"
"And Christina?" Veronica continued, her tone cold and threatening, "Don't you dare cum!"
"Yes Mistress." I mumbled into the gag.
Becky removed the glove, and sat next to me. "Spread your legs for me." she said softly.
Resigned to my fate, I cautiously shifted my weight from side to side, widening my pose.
"That's a good girl." Becky whispered.
A sharp, cramping pain struck. I groaned in discomfort. Becky ignored, and slipped the first two fingers of her right hand inside me so that they straddled my clit. Wildly, she jiggled them sided to side . . . round and round . . . forward and back. My attention quickly shifted, and a soft moan escaped my lips.
"I thought you might like that." Becky said.
With the same two fingers of her left hand, she pinned my labia and stretched them out.
A less severe pain. A shameful moan.
Trapping my clit between thumb and index finger, Becky slowly rolled it side to side. "I read a study once that said that some women find direct stimulation of their clitoris to be painful, and avoid it at all cost." she said, "Personally, I find it . . . delicious!"
More jiggling. More rolling. More pinching.
Another, shameful moan slipped past the gag.
"Sounds like she does too!" Rachel laughed.
Becky gradually accelerated the torment: focusing her efforts solely on the 'jiggling' method.
"Oh god!" I moaned, unintelligibly.
"What's that?" Becky said, "Faster? More . . . intense?"
A devastating cramp struck. I arched my back, sucked in my stomach, and groaned.
Becky ignored.
Another cramp. Another groan.
Systematically; diabolically, Becky varied both the speed and intensity of the jiggling. It was pure torture! My clit ached, and my need to orgasm was becoming unbearable.
"Oh god!" I moaned.
"Tap on her clit." Veronica said, "Lightly at first, then more and more and more forcefully."
Becky complied.
Another pain. Another groan.
More tapping.
Another cramping pain. Another groan.
"She sounds in distress." Lisa taunted.
"Doubtful." Rachel snipped, "The other day I was walking past her office and heard her making those very sounds, and I don't think she was waiting for an enema to do its thing!"
