Additional Duties

My name is Tom O'Donnell. I'm thirty-six; the Chief Engineer, for Eco-Logics Technologies. The following account was mostly told to me by Kathy, my wife of eight years. I remember it so clearly – every detail and nuance – because, for me, at least, it was the most novel, engaging, and, quite literally, fantastic story I'd ever heard.

It all began when Kathy, thirty-three at the time, was hired by Halliborn Innovations Ltd. – fresh out of school, sparkly new MBA in hand – as the Executive Personal Assistant to Lori Halliborn, the forty-three-year-old President and CEO of the wildly successful upstart tech company.

The job was high-pressure and full-speed. Kathy hit the ground running, determined to do a bang-up job, especially during her six-month probationary period. She liked her boss immediately, and loved the job right away. Every night she'd get home exhausted, but smiling from ear to ear – full of stories of how she filled her day. It was wonderful to see her so happy.

Kathy began working late one or two times a week from the get-go; but, hey, that was par for the course for me, too. And it was all legit – initially, at least. She was learning the ins and outs of the new job, on the job – in the trenches, getting dirty; but, in retrospect, there was, obviously, some setting of the stage; establishing the precedents, as it were.

It is clear to me now, that, at that time – in those early days – Kathy's boss was already slowly and expertly seducing her. It began innocently enough – after a particularly stressful day, in the boss's rather palatial office, Lori asked Kathy for a neck-rub. "This is the 'Personal' aspect of the Executive Personal Assistant job," she chuckled, adding, "Consider it 'earning brownie points'."

Kathy complied, moving behind her boss, she began to massage her shoulders – pressing and squeezing. Lori sighed appreciatively and talked about the importance of stress relief. The scenario was repeated a couple days later, and again following that. After several times over a couple weeks, during which Lori had reciprocated only two or three times, while receiving a very strong massage – as requested – Lori grabbed Kathy's hands and lowered them to her bosom. Quietly, casually, she spoke about how 'just feeling good' is a stress release – as she gently guided Kathy in caressing her boobs.

After only a few times Lori had led Kathy's hands under her blouse and bra to mold her firm breasts and pinch her nipples. While Lori occasionally did the same for Kathy, the sensuous caress was pretty much one-sided. Kathy complied without remark because, as she put it, "I knew what side my bread was buttered on."

Eventually Lori had pulled Kathy around front and fed her her tits. Kathy licked and laved, nibbling and molding. She sucked and tugged and did everything to her boss that she loved being done to herself – by me. Here, Kathy paused in her narrative and looked me imploringly in the eye. In a whispered aside, she admitted that very soon she'd found it soothingly arousing to grope and nuzzle Lori's ample breasts.

One afternoon Lori took Kathy's hand and led her, wordlessly into the side office – sort of a den that overflowed, with a kind of a muted opulence, off Lori's main office. Pulling Kathy down onto the couch she said, "This affords us a little more privacy." Then, pausing to fix Kathy's attention with her gaze, she added, "I trust you understand that our little recreations here just stay between us, eh? No one else need ever know." Kathy understood the implied warning clearly enough, and respected it.

Sitting side by side, Lori pulled Kathy into her boobs as she peeled her blouse open. Then she put her hands on Kathy's shoulders and prodded Kathy into sinking to the floor between her knees. At the same time, Lori flipped up her own skirt to reveal her unclothed pussy. With a little coaxing, explaining patiently how an orgasm is the ultimate de-stressor, Lori coached Kathy in her first cunnilingus experience.

Reaching around to cup Lori's ass-cheeks in her hands, Kathy pushed her face into the juncture of Lori's thighs. From the first touch of her tongue to Lori's pussy Kathy could feel the changes: the lips becoming puffy, and slick with natural lubricant, saltier to taste; running her tongue up the labia, she felt Lori's clitoris engorge as she circled it. Once again, using her own experience as a guide, her own pleasure, Kathy took to pussy-licking rather seamlessly.

"I guess I was pretty successful that first time," Kathy remarked, inserting a small smile into what had, so far been a very clinical account. "As I stroked over and around her clit, Lori's thighs began to tremble and her hips began to bounce and thrust. Fingers entwined in my hair, she pulled me tight into her crotch. I could feel the vibrations of her building scream rumble through her fundament. Then holding my head tight, she squeezed her legs, scissoring me as she forced her suddenly weeping quim against my face, sealing my nose. Struggling for breath, I kept my tongue actively probing her vagina, reaching for her throbbing clit. Eventually she released the pressure and let me breathe again, although she continued to hold me in place through the echoes of her climax."

In the following weeks, Sapphic love became almost a staple – sucking and caressing Lori's tits, munching on her pussy, bringing her to climax. Kathy took to it amazingly readily. In fact, she admitted, she really enjoyed it, and found it a relaxing break in the work routine.

But Lori reciprocated only as far as sucking Kathy's tits and fingering her to climax – never performing cunnilingus. Kathy figured this was something to do with keeping the help in its place; but she didn't mind. Furthermore, she believed that compliance furthered her progress up the corporate ladder towards a VP appointment.

Somewhere in her subconscious, Kathy realized that her uncontested responses, her unquestioned complicity could be considered evidence of a growing submissiveness, but she chose to dismissed that concern. She'd convinced herself that they were just two girls de-stressing, in a mutually pleasurable way. And that's all it was for a few more weeks, before the situation began expanding – mutating.

Kathy paused as if to catch her breath, snatching quick glances at me. She had my rapt attention. After a moment, she continued with her tale of corruption.

Lori called Kathy into the side office, where Lori's husband, Barrett, VP of operations, lounged nonchalantly in an easy chair. Bustling about Lori said, casually, "I'm frightfully busy, hon, as you know, and Barrett is frightfully horny." She stopped and looked directly at Kathy, before adding, "Be a dear and take care of him for me, will ya?" Then she flounced out of the office, leaving Kathy looking aghast at her boss's husband. The forty-year old letch just smiled at her appraisingly. Rising slowly, he approached her and put his hands on her shoulders. "You look terrified,' he chuckled. "I don't bite, you know." Kathy stood frozen.

"Tell you what, let's dispense with the foreplay and go right to the main even." He led her to the couch in the den, lifted her skirt and removed her panties. She followed along like an automaton.

When they were done, he told her she did a pretty good impression of a blow-up doll; they'd have to work on that. He left her to recover her underwear, her mind whirling as she thought about what happened. "Though," she considered, "It was not actually that much different from what I do with Lori."

Casually, next time they were intimate, Lori remarked that she felt Kathy was a bit disappointing for someone with so much potential. Then she went on to relate what Barrett had said. "He thinks you should relax – mellow out. He said you were very up-tight. There's no need for that, you know. 'Cause I think you're a natural." She gave Kathy's boob a playful squeeze, adding, "We'll work on that, eh?"

Kathy understood the implied threat, and realized that she'd better step up her game. Pissing off the boss would put all her career ambitions in jeopardy. So she decided, while munching hungrily between Lori's thighs, to give one hundred ten percent, from now on.

Hence, the next time with Barrett was 'way better. Kathy just let herself go. Lori had 'asked', almost flippantly, if Kathy could come in and "take care of Barrett." Kathy had straightened her shoulders and entered the side office confidently. Pausing momentarily, she surveyed the room. Barrett was slouching in the easy-chair, watching her entrance with a glint of challenge in his eye. Kathy smiled as she pounced. Straddling his knees, she leaned in and crushed her mouth against his, forcing her tongue down his throat, all the while struggling with both hands at his fly-front, to release his already turgid cock.

Raising her hands to peel open his shirt, she slid smoothly down his chest to engulf his still growing erection. "It was easy, once I had the right mind-set!" she observed. Shedding her panties, she climbed up again onto his lap, and, stifling any remark he may have made with her hungry lips on his, she lowered herself onto his wood, sinking down until their pubes met. As she began to actively ride him, rocking and raising, up and down, she was surprised by a sudden-onset climax, which, at its unexpected arrival, swept over him. "Holy shit," Barrett sputtered, "Where'd that come from? Are you even the same girl?"

Kathy just smiled as she set to getting him up for a second round.

And it wasn't long after that, that Kathy received her first 'request' to service a client. Lori explained that he was in from out of town, a loyal customer who deserved a few perks once in a while. "Just like Barrett," Lori had advised, "just make him feel good!"

Kathy called on him at his hotel room on the pretext of delivering a prospectus. Sam Waterhouse turned out to be a shy, lonely, middle-aged dumpling of a man – but Christ, was he well-endowed. After small-talk, and a drink, Kathy had initially turned on the charm, then pulled out the stops. Suddenly transforming into a tiger, Kathy aggressively fucked the hell out of the poor man. He didn't know what hit him, and in the end, as Kathy straightened her clothing to leave, he insisted she take the proffered couple of hundred-dollar-bills, as a token of his appreciation. Kathy protested that it had been her pleasure, but in the end bowed to his insistence.

"And what does that make me?" she asked herself, ruefully, as she hailed a cab back to the office. Notwithstanding, she was pleased to find out how far she could go, and how much she'd enjoyed it. "Bottom line is:" she'd concluded, "inasmuch as corporate advancement is the objective, this was, really, very good for brownie-points!"

During her discourse, Kathy tried to assure me that I was her sole source of love. "All of this other stuff is just sex, just lust – titillation and thrill; and," she added with a shrug, "in an odd way, power. But I get all the love I need or want from you, and only you." She looked at me, uncertain, tentatively reaching with her hand. I met her, giving her hand a squeeze. Despite her deception – cheating, if you will – I believed her. It's funny how love works. After a moment, she took up the story once more.

Of course, it wasn't all erogenous stimuli. Her time, for the most part, was spent dealing with the machinations of commerce – what one might expect of an executive assistant – organizer, manager, advisor, troubleshooter, and gofer. Kathy loved her job for the variety and the opportunity, and in the bustle of those legitimate aspects of her position, Kathy thrived, too.

But this particular history focuses on the more questionable aspects of her employment. After that first time, she began providing clients with perks and incentives two or three times every couple of weeks. Not long into the establishment of that routine, Kathy found herself servicing two potential buyers at the same time.

Lori had summoned Kathy into her office, and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "Darren and Mike, in there," she nodded toward the side office, "are hemming and hawing. You go in and offer to get them drinks or whatever to help with their decision-making. Okay?" Kathy had flirted shamelessly – her own words – with them, while preparing and sharing drinks. They got the idea that her teasing was serious when she quietly locked the door and drew the shades. Sashaying over to Darren, she reached for his fly while leaning in to plant a passionate kiss on his lips.

His penis sprang out of his shorts like a tensioned spring and, as Kathy lowered her mouth onto it, Mike moved in behind, roughly pulling her panties aside, before ramming himself balls-deep into her unprepared pussy. "Luckily," she said, "I had already begun to moisten in anticipation of my 'duties'."

It took well over and hour, and almost a dozen orgasms among the three of them, to convince them to sign a deal with Lori – but they eventually did. Kathy was exhausted, but happy, as she straightened her clothes and kissed both 'gentlemen' good-bye at the door.

The next day, Lori handed Kathy a thick envelope for cash. "Your bonus," Lori chirped, "for a job well done." Just flipping through the stacks of bills, Kathy could see that it was a very generous bonus, indeed. She blushed a bit as she recalled the details of said job. "Just think of it as a commission," Lori purred as she turned to leave.

Staring at the bundle in her hand, Kathy ignored the little voice in the back of her mind that pointed out it could just as easily be considered payment for services rendered – ie: whore's wages!

Later in the day, Lori and Barrett suggested that Kathy set up a secret stash – not a bank account – a safety-deposit-box, maybe, somewhere secret – secret even from me. For my own protection, they explained, apparently employing a bit of dubious logic; and hide all but a small percentage – a nest-egg, for a rainy day. Not knowing what else to do, and trusting them, she followed their advice.

Kathy's experiences had continued to accumulate during her many repeat performances, and she had participated in – or, more precisely, facilitated – a few more threesomes when her first foursome occurred. Once again, she was sent to the clients' hotel suite to get a final agreement signed.

Once the business was complete and the deal signed, the delegation – three middle-aged executives – began raucous cheering and passing around drinks in what to Kathy was a rather adolescent celebration. Still, she was pulled in – basically forced to join in the silly revelry. And soon they were dancing and spinning with her; all taking turns, constantly refilling her champagne glass. Kathy tempered her drinking as she wanted to keep her wits about her. The clients continued, drinking and swinging her into bear hugs that crushed her bosom into their chests.

As alcohol loosened tongues, reduced inhibitions, and obscured propriety, the chatter became, as it is wont to do in such circumstances, lewd and suggestive. Kathy was surprised to hear her behavior and reputation bandied about. She was more than a little mortified to learn that her activities were becoming public knowledge, furthermore, she realized that that fact threatened the sustainability of her running deception.

Notwithstanding, she realized she would still have to keep the customers satisfied – regardless of their moral opinions. She was still expected to earn her 'commissions' and the attendant 'brownie points'. So Kathy set her concerns aside and flung herself into the fray, once again, beginning by necking with each guy, and encouraging them all to grope and grab. Once they got underway, the head of the group said, "Okay, let's take it to the bedroom. What's the point of a king-sized bed if you don't use it, eh wot?"

The three of them were all on the drunk side of tipsy as they hustled her into the bedroom. Kathy rolled her eyes as she recalled. "They actually played 'Rock-Paper-Scissors' to determine who went first!" and as they set to poking and prodding, they were each a little 'sloppy and floppy' – to start, at least.

Kathy did her best to facilitate their pleasure, and, at one point, while she took one of them doggie-style while another thrust in and out of her mouth, the third fellow called out, "Dibs on her ass!"

"Airtight!" her fucker shouted, like a teen at a frat party, and pulled out, quickly worming his way beneath her. Now, while Kathy had been fucked anally several times before, she was unfamiliar with being 'airtight'. The three 'gentlemen' obviously knew what to do, though. In a flurry of pushing and pulling, they positioned her and impaled her on the slick and rampant erection straining under her. The instigator swiped her anus with a handful of lube, and immediately started forcing his ingress. Kathy breath caught in her throat at first, but the insistent tool popped smoothly into her rosebud without any further discomfort.

After a brief pause, Kathy took up her felatio again, rocking and grunting to the rhythm set up by the other two. Each of them took a turn in each orifice, and they came several times each. Kathy said that once she got started, she enjoyed countless climaxes, both mini, and full-blown. "I loved it," she remarked, still oddly clinical in her affect.

Kathy's first true gangbang happened a little while later. "We were at a trade show – a two-day event – and, the second day, Barrett had invited a few shakers-and-movers up to our hospitality suite." She told me that she had already serviced a few special clients, the first day of the convention. Her clinical objectivity wavered a little when she began to recall the second day's incident. Once the guests were all settled with drinks, it was Lori who asked Kathy, in a loud, staged voice, to "Give us a strip-tease, dear, like you do so well!" Nothing surprised Kathy any longer, so, finding a suitable music station on the stereo, she began to writhe and gyrate like a pro. When she was virtually naked – down to heels, stockings, and garter – she beckoned, at Lori's suggestion, the guests into the suite's bedroom.

"I'll spare you the sordid details," Kathy muttered, "but suffice it to say that once we'd gotten started, I quickly lost track of who fucked me where and how many times." The long and short of it was that she was constantly dicked, in one orifice or another, for hours and hours. Kathy said she'd worried, somewhere in the back of her mind, that, by the time she got home, she would be so loose and slick that I couldn't help but notice – tell-tale giveaways, for sure.

Kathy admitted here that she had been overwhelmed by the first gangbang. She had arrived home that night still vibrating from the echoes of the excitement, and had had to make a conscious, deliberate effort to mute the enchanted sparkle in her eyes, in order to carry on her deception – to keep me from becoming suspicious. The thrill of her illicit activities balanced out the guilt, and allowed her to function. While I didn't remember specifically, she reminded me she was a tiger in bed that night – super-aggressive, in part because her naughtiness made her horny and partly to take my attention off the well-used aspects of her sex.

Over the months she had been at this, and it turned out to have been many months, Kathy had been very busy. "I visited, on many occasions, the high-end hotel suites of potential customers, with the sole intension of drumming up business, you understand." Her droll delivery lost none of its flat matter-of-fact tone, even when she added, "And it very often worked." All the while she was adding commissions and bonuses to her secret stash.

Around that time, it occurred to her that her sexual-favour duties had begun to outweigh her legitimate work; and that concerned her, but she had no time to dwell on it. Her additional duties, the miscellaneous assignations, were innumerable.