It was the fall of nineteen-sixty-three, and I was enjoying life. I relaxed all weekend, thinking how easy those young secretaries were, especially Toni, whom I had to get a shot at again.
Monday was beautiful, but I immediately noticed that Toni wasn't there. She was probably too ashamed to face me, but she'll get over that; she needs the money. Speaking of a girl who needed money, Mandy walked by. She was finally able to look me in the face and acknowledge me. Her time was coming and soon.
The week passed, and I was getting caught up on my work. I deserved some fun. Toni had called in, saying she would be back Monday, telling her supervisor there had been a family emergency.
I waited until mid-morning, then buzzed Mandy to come in for dictation; she knew her luck had run out. She knocked softly on my door and walked in. She was wearing a beige dress that was well above her knees, sheer suntan stockings, and black heels.
"Take a seat," I said, gesturing toward the stool at the side of my desk. She blushed beet red and pulled herself onto the stool, exposing her panty girdle and garter clasps, working to keep her stocking tops taut. She tried vainly to cover her legs but to no avail. I made no excuses; I openly stared at her exposed nylons. But then my attention turned to her tits, trying to pop her overworked dress buttons.
I dictated some letters while watching her try to keep her dress under control. She made the mistake of hooking her heels on the rung of the stool, forcing her to pull up her dress higher; her skin tone was naturally tan, being of Italian descent. So when she wore lighter stockings, they appeared darker.
I finished the letters, and she started getting off the stool.
"Wait, Mandy, stay where you are. I'm not finished yet."
All the color left her face; I thought she would pass out.
"I can't do anything in the office. I'm too afraid of being caught. And I need this job, so I don't think I should agree to anything else."
"I think you will agree to anything I want, Miss Mandy." I chuckled as I handed her a stack of pictures, showing her sucking my dripping dick and the last one of her face covered with my cum.
"You lousy bastard. What if I tear these up?"
"Be my guest. I have the negatives. Now you're pissing me off; say you're sorry for being rude and beg me to have some fun with your body."
With tears welling up, she sobbed,
"I'm sorry. I didn't think you would blackmail me. You can do anything you want to me; just destroy the pictures. If my in-laws saw them, I would be out in the streets with nowhere to go."
She was panicked; and realized she was vulnerable, to say the least. Now, I had to think of ways to abuse her.
"You may leave now; I've got work to do."
She slid off the stool, her long-leg black panty girdle exposed well past her garter clasps, visible through the sheer material of her girdle. She tugged her dress down, afraid to look me in the eye.
"Before you go, I didn't get enough of a leg show; now take your time and pull your skirt up to your waist. I want to see your legs."
"You can't be serious. What if someone comes in?"
"What if I send these pictures to your parents or in-laws?"
Her shoulders slumped; she was broken. She looked behind her, checking the door, then bending down; she gripped her hem and slowly pulled up her dress, stopping at her stocking tops, partially covered by her sheer panty girdle.
"All the way, Mandy."
Groaning, she pulled her dress to her waist.
"Now turn around and show me your ass; now, be a good girl and bend over. I walked over to her. Her ass was barely visible through her girdle. I began to rub her butt. She tensed up, moaning.
"Please stop; you have no right."
I picked up a ruler from my desk and, with no warning, brought it down on her ass. Before she could recover, I hit her again. She squealed, rocking from foot to foot.
"YEOW STOP IT! THAT HURTS."
She tried to stand up, but I forced her to stay bent over. I gave her two more for talking back.
"You may rub your ass but keep your dress up."
She gingerly massaged her ass. Her tears ran down her cheeks, and she finally asked if she could leave.
"Yes, but keep Saturday free. I may have a job for you."
A look of fear and distrust came over her face.
"What kind of job?" she murmured.
"You'll be a cocktail waitress at our weekly card game, so wear something appropriate. Definitely black stockings and high heels and a short skirt. Use your imagination; you may leave now."
She left without saying a word. She had resigned herself to being humiliated by her boss and his friends.
On my way to the parking lot, I saw a few guys from the loading dock standing around a car. As I got closer, I recognized that one of the girls from the front desk was having car trouble. The men were trying to help, but I noticed they had her get out of the car every few minutes to show her something under the hood. In the process, hiking her skirt up. They were laughing behind her back, getting her to show her pale yellow panty girdle and stockings, which were on full display. It is incredible how gullible young girls are. They couldn't get the car started, and she was sitting on the seat with the door open, thanking them while displaying stocking tops and garter clasps. The best part was that another secretary was walking by, and they conned her into trying to start the car. Her dress rode up as she settled behind the wheel, exposing pink garter straps and coffee-colored stockings. The best part was that the girls had no idea they were being used.
Saturday night, and I wondered if she would show up at all. She asked if I would pick her up at a store two blocks from her in-laws. As I pulled up, I was pissed when I saw what she had on. I could see she had on a jacket, black skirt, bare legs, and flat shoes. She hurried across the street and got in my car.
"I thought I told you to wear something appropriate?"
"I couldn't dress in heels and black nylons and say I was shopping with my friends. I put my clothes in my bag and can dress at your place. I hope I can get through this."
I could see she was trembling, her eyes welling up.
As we pulled up, I could see the others were already there. I turned toward her; the look of fear on her face was priceless. She slowly got out of my car. We walked in. When she saw guys sitting in the family room and realized they were her bosses, she froze, gripping my arm.
"You never told me that they would be here. I want to go back home."
"It's too late now unless you want to walk. I think it's starting to rain."
Frank smiled at her,
"Don't be afraid, Mandy, it will be fun. We all know each other."
I got her a glass of wine, and she gulped it down.
I poured her another. Despite being pregnant she immediately drank it.
Shaking, she asked where she could change. I took her to the bathroom.
I went into the family room and made a drink.
We sat at a table, not really wanting to play cards, nervously talking, waiting for her.
Mandy's hands were shaking so severely that she wasn't sure she could put on makeup. Putting on her black garter belt, panties, matching push-up bra, and off-black stockings, she started to cry. It was only the second time she had worn them. The first time was the night before her husband left for boot camp. She wished it was all a nightmare.
Heavy black eye shadow and eyeliner completed the whore look guys liked. Big hoop earrings and black gloves were all she could think of to look sexy. She needed another drink. Checking her hair one last time, she opened the door.
We heard the door open and her heels clicking on the hardwood floor.
She was a "Knockout." The tight black skater's skirt was well above her knees, and the first black welt of her stocking tops showed with every step she took on her four-inch heels. She kept her eyes focused on the floor and poured another drink.
"I think we all know you, Mandy; why don't you turn around so we can take a look at your ass? She turned like a robot, stopping when her butt was facing us. Now, bend over. A sob escaped her mouth.
"Please don't do this to me. I'm married and pregnant."
