Little Scandal #02: Maya

The familiar photo shook in Maya's hand. She tried to stop it, but that only made it shake harder. So she put the photo down. She'd brought herself to look at it like he'd wanted and now she was done..

Film photos. No digital trace. Harmless fun. (Harmless -- kinky -- fun.) All the way across the pond.

A few whacks on the bum "for redness," she'd said. "Can't have a photo shoot with such a pale ass!" Then, her body -- Eleza's sleek body. Eleza (with an ee-zee.) She remembered the salty-shroomy taste, the musky scent -- all that juice when she'd brought herself to orgasm holding Maya's mouth at her hole. The naughty thrill ran through her looking side-long at that photo now sitting on her boss's desk. "They'll never be seen," Eleza had said. "I'll develop them myself, and make a copy for you, and they'll never be seen by anyone else. I promise."

"Like that one, do you?" asked Mr. vanderVoort, shaking the reverie from Maya's head. "I'm rather fond of it myself."

Maya's mouth fell open. The way he had spread these out before her -- her own body in grainy photorealism. First the spanking photos, taken by her brother (or had it been?). He'd laid them out on his desk. Three of them. There had been more than three, but that was all it took. She'd picked one up, and as she'd been staring at it, hand quivering, he'd laid three photos of her pussy-licking down.

And again, there had been many more photos of cunnilingus. Maya'd gone on for quite sometime, enjoying herself better than she'd imagined, and Eleza (with an 'ee-zee') had snapped quite a lot of photos. That dirty thrill stabbed at her tummy again. She remembered it from each snap of the exposure. She'd delighted in it then; and now she felt as though it would rip her belly open with its fierce forceful fire.

"Fuck!" she whispered as Mister vanderVoort's hand went back into the manila envelope. He paused, and looked at her over his wire frames.

"Hoom, I'll say."

She hung her head, bit her lips. She would not let him see that she was even slightly amused by this. They both knew what was coming next -- Maya far better than Mister vanderVoort. After she'd come three times on Maya's face, Eleza had strapped on a monstrous dildo easily more than eight inches long, and a ridiculous width.

"I don't know," past-Maya said to Eleza again, "if that's going to fit in my twat."

And Eleza smiled down at Maya's skeptical cunt-slaked face and reassured her that it would. Then she'd said those seven fateful words: "But it's not going in your twat."

Not even Eleza had known the kind of dirty thrill Maya had experienced when she'd heard that. Bizarre as it may seem, Maya had been into anal sex for some time prior to her freshman year the American college where she was studying law and psychology. A boyfriend of hers had promised her it would be worth it -- sex without a condom, froget your pills at home, ladies. Niether had banked on Maya liking anal quite as much as she did. Maya hadn't wanted a dirty girl rep, so he'd promised no one would know. He'd broken his promise just after she'd started dating Geoff Greene, but at least then she had the expression "lying, jealous prick" to defend her. With Eleza, clearly she'd had no such luck.

Now laid out on the table were the seven photos Eleza had taken of that big strap-on cock buried at various depths in Maya's rosied-up arse. In three of the photos, she was on her hands and knees with Eleza behind her. In one Eleza (with an ee-zee) had placed a long-nailed, long-fingered hand on Maya's coccyx. Her thumb hung over the divet of Maya's tailbone pointing directly to the red rubber protuberence she was popping in Maya's toaster.

The next photo in the line showed Eleza's cock fucked all the way in. (Deep, deep, how deep it had been!) She could see Eleza's (once-)darling breasts hanging down over her tummy. She'd leaned back to take the picture. "Isn't this so much fun!" she'd cried when she'd shot Maya's wide-open ass.

There were, of course, no photos of Eleza's strong-fingered grip on Maya's hips as she'd plowed her fallow field. The photos couldn't capture how Eleza had hissed the words "Dirty bitch!" into Maya's ear. Or the way Maya'd shaken her head "like a colt" when Eleza had asked, "You don't hate this, do you slut?" But they could capture just how much Maya had enjoyed it all. The next photo was the one Eleza had demanded Maya look over her shoulder for.

"Head up, so I can see your pretty lips," she'd said. Maya had complied. And now she was looking herself in the eye -- by far her favourite photo out of all of them, the one that made her cream the hardest. The red lips pouting, the slitted lust-filled eyes dripping mascara, the deep blush of sex.

The next four pictures were the ones where Eleza had flipped Maya onto her back, lifted her feet in the air and punish-fucked her as hard as she could. Maya had screamed bloody murder, and on occasion when she got to loud, Eleza would stop and give her a break, and take a picture. All four of the photos showed both Maya's slick, slippery, stylishly bald cunt and her sticky, messy, slutty face. There was no way Maya could deny that the woman in the photos was her.

Mister vanderVoort pointed to the one of Maya on her hands and knees, with her eyes and mouth showing lust from every corner. "That's not your first time in the rump, is it?"

Maya swallowed and shook her head.

"It's amazing what you can learn from a photo, isn't it?"

From some kind of hazy distance Maya wondered what this had to do with anything.

"There's a reason I'm showing you these pictures, my dear, Mister vanderVoort proclaimed, "instead of going directly to you father. Can you guess what it is?" It was blackmail. It had to be! Someone -- probably Eleza -- had sent him these pictures because she wanted -- what? money? revenge? But revenge for what? And weren't there easier ways for a girl like Eleza to get money? A grand sense of betrayal settled over Maya like a pall. She said the ugly word.

"That's right. I'm blackmailing you, my dear."

"What?"

"Your father's pride in you is well-placed but he doesn't deserve it. Since your father took this company, I have been checkmated by his arrogant incompetence and his willingness to spend as much on lawyers as he does on whores."

"What?"

"Maya, you poor stupid naive little girl," Mister vanderVoort looked serious at her, "your father is a whore monger. I have watched with much jealousy, he and his wife, your mother at the Christmas parties, or the company picnics. He doesn't deserve a woman as radiant as your mother, with his lechery and his flippant wallet! But now I see -- as I suspected while I watched you grow -- that it does indeed run in the family."

He paused, looking at her. She could not respond. So, he shrugged his left shoulder and continued. "You may want to get your steno out. I'm about to dictate the rules of our new unprofessional relationship to you." Like an automaton, she did as she was told and took his dictation.

"The first rule is -- and this may seem familiar -- you are not to speak of this engagement to anyone. Not your girl friends, not your doctor, not your mum, not your precious daddy, not your therapist -- which you will need after I finish with you. No one will know. If word gets back to me, even the barest rumour, that I'm fiddling the boss's daughter I will finish you and your father, and this company along with it.

"The second rule is that you are at my beckon call at all hours. An intern is only as good as the hours she works, after all. If I wake up with a hankering for oyster stew at three in the morning, I better be getting it by three-thirty or I go to the press with these photos.

"The third rule, and probably the most important rule, is that you are never to gainsay my requests and demands. I have lived a full life, and tasted many exotic perversions and, my dear, I find I have rather a taste for them. From the look of some of these photos, I'd say I'm not alone in this office.

"That should be simple enough. Any questions?"

Maya was stunned. The weight of the pall of betrayal threatened to stop her breathing. She was shaking. Her mouth was dry. A distant sense of what she'd gotten herself into -- just what she was now -- bore down on her. And yet -- none of this made sense.

"Why!"

"Have you not been paying attention, girl? I hate your father, and all the mislain power he's received through the grace of God. I'm helpless to put a stop to it. So, I'm doing the next best thing and making a slut and a slave out of his precious virginal daughter."

"But if you destroy us, you'll destroy yourself."

"I'm already destroyed, girl! Now get over here, and kneel in front of me."

By the time she was kneeling, his cock was in her throat. He throat-fucked her for a good solid minute, gagging her as he would, before he pulled her off. "That's good. I like to know you can take my cock in your throat while you kneel, but I'm not fully interested in that right now. Get up, bend over the desk, raise your skirt, lower your stockings and panties, and make sure I have a clear view of your asshole, Maya. I know you can take cock there, so don't whimper about it."

Maya, shocked into silence, bent over her boss's desk. She felt exposed just doing that. The abject humiliation made her numb and slow. She shook under a sudden blow on her ass.

"Faster, bitch," he seethed behind her. "I'm losing my hard-on. Get going, or I'll have to get creative."

In a matter of seconds, Maya's ass was bare, her rosebud facing the draft in the office.

"What a pretty pair of hands," said Mister vanderVoort.

Behind her, Maya could hear the sound of Mister vanderVoort's spit-slicked dick being stroked. She had watched those gnarled, spotted hands work many times. She knew what they looked like, and now she had a fair idea of what they looked like working his cock. A swift, wet gust of breath from her boss's mouth left her button slick.

"This is going to hurt, Maya, not because I'm unskilled and not because you're unused to anal penetration. This is going to hurt because I want it to. I am, as the Americans would have it, one sick bastard. I like it when women cry. I like it when women beg for mercy. And I like to deny them that mercy. So, beg Maya, but do so quietly. Beg me not to fuck your ass."

The first raspy sound had barely left Maya's abused throat when she felt the unbecoming pressure of his blunt tool against her dirty hole. She shook and sobbed once. "Please, Mister vanderVoort," she said, with a gravitas she wished he would hear, "don't fuck me there." And as soon as she'd said it, she felt the head of his old dick open her ripe rosebud.

"Please," she sobbed because she really wanted her begging to work, "stop. I'll -- I'll --"

"You'll do what I say, slut." He withdrew and she sighed. "You'll do what I say, and apparently you'll like it." "Please, no. Please, I don't want this. Isn't there something else?"

In response he pushed his psychopathic cock as deep as he could muster, and though she knew better, Maya squeezed up. And, of course, it only hurt more.

"Oh, that's nice," said Mister vanderVoort. "Do that again."

Maya released, and squeezed again. She already knew how to follow his orders -- a month of working under him had taught her enough.

With one more thrust, he was inside and fucking her with an abandon Eleza simply had not been master of. His rough hands grabbed at her naked hips and his prick plunged again and again into her bowels. She felt so small and helpless under him. And it thrilled her. And it humiliated her. And that thrilled her too.

Behind her, Mister vanderVoort was getting sweaty. His breathing was becoming heavy. She wished the old bluebeard would have a heart attack and die, but he didn't. Instead, his prick hardened to that extreme state that always made her arse burn. He was about to shoot his load in her back door. In that moment, he grabbed her arms and used them as leverage for his frantic fucking. Maya felt herself distorted. She could barely breathe, her chest hurt, and the plunging of her boss's cock into her arse made her shiver from stem to stern.

When he came, he leaned over her and breathed one long, loud, tortured sigh into her ear. When he pulled out, his cum spilled out a little, and pooled around her cheeks before beginning to drip into her panties.

Then, he stepped into his bathroom. She pulled up her stockings and panties, straightened her skirt and began to gather the photos still strewn across the desk.

This was easily the worst day of her life. Betrayed, blackmailed, and beaten. Defeated. She'd been helpless to stop him. The crazy clarion question struck her -- if he had been destroyed by his own helplessness, did that mean she would be destroyed by her own helplessness? And the answer was equally clarion, ringing out in Mister vanderVoort's own voice in her head: "Of course it does, my dear. I'll see to that!"