Pierced Ch 03 Company Ambassador

Content Warning: Incest

*

"I don't wear high heels," I say, although not as firmly as I would like. It sounds embarrassingly like I'm whining. "I never wear high heels."

Karen looks at me without sympathy. "You're the one who asked for this promotion. If you're going to be a company ambassador, you need to look the part. Mr Charles was very clear about that."

Yes, I asked for the promotion, and earned it too, but I'm still unclear what exactly my new role will entail. Clearly it involves me looking more posh and femme than I'm comfortable with. Since Karen's paying, I'm not being given much choice. "Walk," she orders, and I reluctantly do a circuit of the shop in the black patent leather three inch stilettos that were clearly designed by a sadist.

"I hate them," I say, then relent. "Although they're better than the others." Twice the price too. Why anyone pays so much for instruments of torture is beyond me, unless they're masochistic. I don't mind the extra height they give me. I do mind that she wants me to walk in them as we continue to the next shop. "These take all the fun out of shopping," I grumble.

I never wear skirts and dresses either - well, hardly ever - but that doesn't stop Karen from buying them for me and then insisting I wear them. It's like playing dress-up with dolls except I'm the doll. In high heels and a charcoal dress that reaches nowhere near my knees. "I feel ridiculous!"

Karen shakes her head, clearly enjoying her reinvention of me, and leads me tottering into a posh lingerie shop. I hesitate in the doorway. "Wait, Mr Charles specified my underwear?"

"Of course not," she says, laughing. "He didn't need to." The boutique owner insists on measuring my chest before picking out a selection of lace bra-and-knickers sets. I choose one black and one white, but Karen adds in a red and a fuchsia, and then persuades me into hold-ups for the first time in my life.

As Tuesday mornings go, it's different. It's fun, even if I do feel a bit of a fraud. By the time she's had my hair and make-up done, I have to admit I look a lot sexier than usual, and also more professional. But I'm also reminded of why I've never really liked Karen. She's being nice with me now, but she's bitchy as hell about the staff in the shops.

A shop display featuring a PVC nurse's costume catches my eye. "There's a few more things you can buy me," I say, and despite her clear distaste for the place, she lets me lead her in there.

It's a new experience for me too, but my life these past few days has been a string of new experiences. I pull Karen close to me and kiss her. I don't need to like her to love kissing her, and she can't help loving it too. "Wow," she breathes, enraptured.

There's no one watching us - at least, not closely. I bunch up my new dress carefully, trying not to crease it, and guide Karen's hand down the back of my knickers. "What are you doing?" she hisses, blushing furiously and checking for watching eyes.

Before she can snatch her hand away, I press her fingers between my cheeks, her fingertips against that tight ring of muscle - and, more importantly, the little steel ring that pierces it.

Karen jerks her hand away, shocked, but it's too late for her. "What was that?" she whispers.

Ignoring her question and readjusting my dress, I say, "Since I'm wearing what you tell me to wear, it's only fair that you wear what I tell you to wear."

She starts to shake her head, as if to deny me, then shrugs agreeably. "I suppose."

"And what not to wear."

"I guess..."

Karen's clearly unconvinced by this reasoning. To test the strength of the magical compulsion, I suggest, "Take your knickers off."

"What, here?" She glances around, but there's no one paying us any attention.

"Yes."

With a heavy sigh, she complies, pulling her black lace knickers down to her ankles and stepping out of them. "Happy?"

Tempting as it is to have her go commando, I have a better idea. "Buy these for yourself and put them on." I hold up a crotchless thong. "Red or black lace, you choose."

With an exasperated sigh, she snatches up a red pair, and marches over to the cashier. The girl behind the counter watches bemused as Karen steps into the thong and pulls it up into place.

That isn't all we buy, however. I buy a strap-on harness and dildo (purple) for myself, and for Karen I buy six more pairs of crotchless undies in a variety of colours and styles. "One for every day of the week."

Karen buys a leather paddle. "Be careful what you wish for," she tells me, brandishing the paddle meaningfully. My cheeks hurt just thinking about the threatened punishment.

*

I have Jenna to myself, since Matt plays rugby on Tuesdays. I use the opportunity to fulfil another fantasy of mine. Strap-on firmly in place, I lie between her parted thighs and ease my unfeeling cock into the pussy I've just licked to a climax. I kiss her with lips that are wet from her own orgasmic pleasure as I settle into a rhythm, fucking my adoring girlfriend. It's surprisingly good for me too, the harness pressing gently against my pierced clit with each thrust of the purple dildo, but mostly I am enjoying the expression on her face, her enjoyment of being penetrated by me.

But neither of us are quite able to come this way. After a good, long effort, Jenna uses her fingers to complement the dildo's action, and is soon gasping through a long, intense orgasm as I struggle to keep fucking her with the silicone cock. My muscles, unused to this exercise, are cramping painfully by the end.

We lie together, kissing, cuddling, catching our breath, until Jenna unbuckles the harness from me and instead fastens it about her own hips. "My turn," she says, and I allow her to part my legs. I've used a dildo before, but never one attached to a strap-on. I've been penetrated before, but never by someone else.

I've been making love to Jenna for days now, but suddenly I feel like a virgin on the point of being deflowered. "Be gentle," I want to say, but don't.

Sensing my nervousness, she bends and kisses me tenderly before positioning the dildo, and when she penetrates me she takes it slowly, bit by bit, kissing my breasts and sucking on my nipples as she does. Perhaps it is the effect of the triangle piercing, but the dildo feels huge in me, and feels amazing too.

My momentary fear is abruptly gone, and I am able to enjoy this delightful coupling. "Do it," I urge her. "Fuck me properly."

Jenna laughs, and is happy to comply, easing out of me slowly only to drive in hard. "Fuck!" I cry, unprepared for just how good it feels. Even as I recover from that, she is driving into me again, even harder. I pull her head down so that I can prove to her with kisses just how in love I am with her right at this instant.

But it is only a momentary respite. Jenna clearly enjoys wearing and using the silicone cock. She startles me by lifting my ankles over her shoulders, and settling into a savage rhythm, fucking hard and deep, much the way I witnessed Matt doing it to Jenna last night. This is so different from making love. This is fucking pure and simple, intense and amazing, every thrust of the silicone cock driving the tension higher.

"I'm close," I say, massaging my breasts and pinching my nipples in an effort to hasten the end, even as I wish it could last forever. "I'm close."

"Come for me, Em," Jenna says, and I can hear the strain in her voice. This is new for her too, but damn she's good. She maintains the rhythm, each impact of her hips against my cheeks accompanied by electric pleasure soaring through my clit.

"Yes!" I scream as I am propelled into ecstasy, my vagina contracting blissfully about the silicone cock as I convulse in orgasmic pleasure. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

As I relax in the aftermath of that, still trembling with echoes of that ecstasy, Jenna eases my legs back onto the bed and bends down to kiss me. "I adore watching you come," she murmurs. "I can't wait to watch you take a real cock..."

*

For my first proper day as a company ambassador, I'm in a red dress and high heels. Jenna snorts at the sight of me. "You look like a hooker in a five star hotel bar."

She's right too. Posh and sexy, with a liberal dash of professional escort. "Karen chose this for me," I say defensively.

"I'm shocked," she says, and I stick my tongue out at her.

There's a trade fair at the exhibition hall in the city centre. Our company has a stand, Mr Charles and Alan, our marketing guy, taking turns to talk to other attendees who wander by. We have a variety of brochures to give out, and there are two laptops with looping videos that talk about our warehouse systems. My main role, apparently, is to look pretty and give people big friendly smiles, although I do know enough about the warehouse operation to answer most of the questions that come my way.

Given how little I'm actually doing, it's surprisingly stressful. Standing in one spot, smiling, talking with strangers who mostly have zero interest in us but who are bored enough to at least half-listen, especially to a young woman in a red dress and high heels that are literally killing her.

By five o'clock I'm desperate to just sit down and shut out the world. I'm famished, wishing I were away at my favourite pizzeria with a book and a bottle of wine, but I'm hungry too for something more, the ever-restless magic in my piercings arousing my erotic imagination in subtle and perverse ways. The memory of the spanking two days ago is fresh in my mind, and I have to bite my lips to stop from saying, "Yes, sir," every time Mr Charles asks me a question.

"You're coming to dinner with me," he says.

"Yes, sir," I reply, fatigue getting the better of me. I kick myself mentally, and his brief smile is not lost on me.

"We're meeting an important client," he says. "Potential client, that is."

"So we have to be extra nice to him?"

"Something like that."

So much for getting some quality alone time. But at least there's food. Posh food and small portions, but food all the same, and the wine is superb. The client, Mr Eric Daniels, who insists on being called simply Eric, seems as interested in me as in the company. Like Mr Charles, he's old enough to be my father, and although he's not unattractive his arrogance is not to my taste.

Which doesn't stop me wondering what his cock tastes like. What it would feel like in my mouth. I've only been intimate with one cock so far, and I can't help but be curious about others. When he heads for the bathroom, while we're waiting for dessert, I turn to Mr Charles and whisper, "I think I've had too much to drink. I'd better go before I do something really naughty."

"Nonsense," he says immediately. "If you go now, you'll ruin everything. Stay, I insist."

And so I stay, and try to keep up with the conversation, and try not to dwell on what I really want to be doing. This is the trouble with getting a promotion. On a normal day I'd be home by now, my face buried in Jenna's sweet pussy.

No, on a normal day I'd be home fantasising about my face being buried in Jenna's sweet pussy. Nothing is normal anymore.

But at long last dinner is over. "I wonder," Mr Charles says to Eric. "Would you be willing to see Emily home? She's had a long day."

"I'd be delighted to," Eric says quickly, and suddenly I feel like I'm being set up.

I glare suspiciously at Mr Charles, who is barely suppressing a smirk. "Or I could call a taxi for you, if you prefer?" he says.

I should be angry, but it's too much effort. "Thank you, Eric," I say. "That's very kind of you."

*

Eric drives a Mercedes, and I'm so comfortable in the passenger seat that I dose off almost immediately, waking only as Eric pulls to a halt in the driveway of a large detached house. "Where are we?" I ask, stretching and yawning.

"My place," he says. "I didn't think you'd mind." He sounds uncertain about this.

The house is dark, no sign of life inside. "Do you live alone?"

"My wife passed away last year."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. You're the first..." He takes a heavy breath. "The first woman I've brought here, since..."

I place my hand on his thigh and squeeze reassuringly. "If it makes you feel any better, you're the first man to ever bring me to his home. Or anywhere."

He sighs, and nods. "It does. I wasn't sure what I was getting into with you. I just knew I wanted you."

What a surreal end to the day. Sitting in a dark car, staring at a dark house. "I could do with a coffee."

Eric laughs. "I can do that."

Not only is it dark inside, but it's cold too. Fortunately there's one of those fake gas fires in the living room, and I hover near that as Eric lights the house, sets the central heating going and makes coffee. The place is generally clean, although there's a visible layer of dust in places. On the walls and mantelpiece are photos of his wife and his daughter, making me feel like an intruder. The bookshelf is mostly classics, drama and poetry, with some aging magazines mixed in.

It's so strange being in someone else's house. I close the windows for privacy, and switch the TV on for background noise, and the heat of the fire and smell of brewing coffee conspire to relax me. "Mmm, thanks," I say, accepting a mug full of hot, black filter coffee from him, and breathing in the rich aroma.

"So, have you been with other woman, since..." I don't finish the question.

Eric shrugs awkwardly. "A couple. Nothing serious. One-night stands only."

"Any kinks I should know about?"

"No! No, well..." He laughs at my raised eyebrow. "I wouldn't mind if you kept your clothes on while, you know, we do it?"

I suppose, although I can't see the dress will escape unscathed. Putting my coffee down for a minute, I tug my knickers down and off without lifting the dress more than necessary. "Like this?"

Eric smiles. "Maybe the bra could come off too?"

That takes some gymnastics, but I succeed in removing my bra at last, Eric watching absorbed. "What about you?" I ask pointedly.

He laughs and undresses quickly, all the way indeed, so that I am suddenly confronted by a naked and visibly aroused man who is not only twice my age but twice my size. Crossing the room to me, he kisses me tentatively, his hands at my waist. His bare cock pressing against the fabric of my not inexpensive red dress.

And all this without any magic. How much my life has changed in the past week!

His lack of surprise on discovering my tongue piercing tells me he must have seen it earlier. "That's not the only one," I say, and guide his more than willing hand up under the hem of my dress, all the way to my pussy and my pierced clit.

With a moan of pure lust, he drags me over to the armchair and bends me over, his cock rubbing against the back of my dress for a minute before he lines it up with my pussy.

I'm actually glad he's doing it this way. I don't want him to see how anxious I am suddenly, having never before been fucked by a real cock. I wish Jenna were here to see this. In length he's similar to the purple dildo she used on me, but he is significantly thicker.

And far less patient. I guide him into me with my fingers, and then he thrusts in with brutal urgency, forcing a cry of pain from me. "Sorry," he mutters, but continues his determined effort to bury his full length within me. Despite the lingering pain of the penetration, I feel exquisitely stretched by him, amazingly full, and the excitation of my pierced clit is wonderful. "Such a sweet, tight cunt," he says, shocking me momentarily with his choice of language.

As he pulls out and slams in again hard, I surrender to this rough use of me. I'm too focussed on how good his cock feels in me to care about anything else. We must make a comical picture, a naked man fucking a fully clothed - or almost - woman. From behind, too. I wonder if he is imagining that I am his wife.

"Such a tight little virgin cunt," he says. "Tell Daddy how much you love his huge cock."

I suppress the urge to laugh. "Oh, Daddy!" I cry. "You're so big! Be gentle with me!"

Of course he doesn't slow down. If anything, he speeds up, his thrusts deepening. "Do you want... Daddy to come... all over your dress?"

In truth, not really... but: "Do it, Daddy! Spray your cum all over me!"

His breath increasingly laboured, his thrusts erratic, he pulls out of me suddenly, and I hear rather than feel his climax - until his cum starts seeping through the fabric.

*

Eric looks away, his cheeks flushed with shame. "I'm sorry..."

"It's a harmless fantasy," I say, attempting an offhand manner. "How old is your daughter?" I examine the photos of her. In the later ones, she does resemble me a little.

"Twenty-three, now. She stays here sometimes. I can't bring myself to tell her not to."

He's still hard. Of course he is. That's the magic in my clitoral piercing. "Well, tonight I'm all yours, Daddy," I say, dropping to my knees and shuffling towards him. "And I really want a drink of Daddy's warm milk."

With a moan of fresh lust, Eric turns to me and aims his cock at my mouth. It's so much thicker than the dildo, and thicker too than my boyfriend Matt's cock, the only one I've ever sucked before. I have to stretch my jaw so much wider to accommodate this Daddy-Bear cock. It's funny to think I'm tasting myself on his skin, though mostly it's a last few drops of his cum from his recent climax that I'm tasting as I do my best to excite him with my tongue and lips.

"I can't believe I'm still hard," he says, thrusting with his hips in an attempt to fuck my mouth. I try not to choke, and try to control him, but as precum fills my mouth with the salty taste of his excitement, I realise I'm out of my depth.

"Sit down, Daddy," I say, pushing him down onto the sofa. Straddling him there, I ease down onto his cock, enjoying that wonderful fullness for a second time. Eric caresses my breasts through the fabric of the dress as I ride his cock, bouncing in the saddle. It's great fun, but also hard work. "I love having my Daddy's huge cock in my tight little cunt," I cry.

He's in no hurry to finish, however, and I have to pause for a rest a few times, during which we kiss and I tell him how much I love my Daddy. Until he guides me down onto the floor and takes me missionary style, hard and urgent. I love every moment of it. "Yes, Daddy! Yes, Daddy!" I shout as he takes me to the heights of pleasure.

I climax twice - two intense, wonderful orgasms - before he pulls out abruptly and aims his cock at me, and this time I see the cum as it spurts out onto my red dress, a sight that I find hysterically funny and can't stop laughing about until my chest hurts from it. Even Eric chuckles as he watches me try to get control of myself.

We cuddle up in front of the television, and within minutes we're both fast asleep.

*

Dehydration and the need for a pee stir me to life again sometime after midnight. The latter sorted - a slightly strange experience given my lack of underwear - I head for the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. I'm belatedly aware that someone is watching me.

A young woman in pyjamas is at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of herbal tea. It's Eric's daughter, the one I've been pretending to be. I wonder how obvious it is that the stains on my red dress are her father's cum.

"Um, hi," I say.

"Is this a one-off thing?" she asks, her expression icy. "Or do I have to worry about walking in on the two of you?"

The thought of her walking in on us while I cry out for 'Daddy' to fuck my ass - damn, the magic is messing with me again - makes me smile. It also makes me visualise father and daughter going at it for real.

"No," I say, "you don't have to worry about ever seeing me again." Sitting as she is, she can't escape my lips as I kiss her cheek, my tongue piercing pressed against her skin.