New Corporate Courtesan

Author's note:

For a long while, "company whore" (CW) was one of my favorite genres of erotic fiction. I've since become a bit disenchanted with the genre, especially with its frequent delight in degrading the CW as much as possible (because "you're nothing but a

whore

now, Loretta!" and further degrading those subhuman creatures known as "whores" is just good sport).

I thought I'd try a different approach to the CW genre. You can judge better than I how well it works. (Please let me know.) It's often a challenge to decide the best Literotica category for a story. I think the heroine of this one is feeling enough reluctance to put the first couple of chapters in "NonConsent/Reluctance."

I'm hardly the only author inclined to treat the company whore with some affection and respect. If that approach appeals to you, you might enjoy Quinn Rogan's "Trouble at the Office" and JennyGently's series,

Corporate Bodies

--in addition to, I hope,

New Corporate Courtesan

.

Best, Peter

************

New Corporate Courtesan

Chapter 01

The office of the Vice President, Product Development and Quality Assurance included--besides the usual furniture--three leather-upholstered chairs surrounding a low, round, glass-topped table. The table held a vase of cut flowers, a couple of notepads, and, at the moment, a laptop computer, which Phil Uhler, leaning forwards, was consulting. He looked up and assessed, again, the woman seated to his left. Poised. Businesslike. Attractive but not stunning. That's perfect: she'll blend in when appropriate. Hair a pretty shade of brown. Breasts looked reasonable; legs, waist, and hips just fine. He glanced again at the screen. Twenty-seven years old. Very good performance reviews from himself and her former supervisor. He clicked on a tab and skimmed again the results of the personality inventory and tests of cognitive style. All very promising.

"You're due for a raise, Diane," he said, "and a bit of a promotion. Unfortunately, business being what it's been the past six quarters, both will have to be very modest this time. I don't control salaries, but I'd expect a bump somewhere in the three to five thousand range. Don't go shopping for that Lexus just yet."

She smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Uhler. My Honda is still fine. And it's been a pleasure to work with you."

They both knew she was stretching it a little at the end. Work is work, and business is often rough and mean and demeaning. Still, Uhler was proud of his reputation as one of the better people to work for at Tolland Health and Beauty Products. Supportive of his staff. Willing to be flexible. Let's save the cutthroat tactics for dealing with the competition; don't practice them on your subordinates or--if you can avoid it--your peers. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the turn the conversation was about to take.

"Diane, there's an alternative upward path you might consider, a more efficient one. It's open to you now if you want it. Now, I want to tread on some thin ice here--discuss some personal matters of yours, even intimate matters, that may make you feel uncomfortable. It's entirely for reasons of business and your career, I promise. How do you feel about continuing?"

Diane uncrossed her legs, sat up straight, and placed her hands in her lap. She looked Uhler in the eye. "I consent," she said. She assumed he was recording the interview.

Uhler was impressed with her answer. It cut right to the heart of the matter. She's nobody's fool. And she said yes. The next questions would gauge her poise and candor under stress, and they would reveal if her attitudes were as liberal as her file had suggested. Here goes, he thought. No beating around the bush. Hit her over the head with it.

"Diane, I gather that you parted with your virginity nine years ago, late in your senior year of high school, with a chap named Arnold Bailey?"

She knew the appropriate response to that would be, "That is none of your business," followed by a complaint to Human Resources. Not that complaints to HR ever seemed to accomplish anything. In any case, she had a sense that the appropriate response would be the wrong one this time. Besides, it would probably end the conversation, and she wanted to see where this cockamamie conversation could possibly be going.

"'Chip,' to his friends and conquests," she replied. "Late senior year is a good inference, and came close to happening, but he got laid up at home with a bad back injury. My virginity and I went our separate ways the following fall, in college. With Chip, who came to visit."

Again, Uhler was impressed by her reply. Cooperative. Witty. Unabashed. "Excellent, Diane," he said. "And since that day, I take it you have acted like a healthy, normal, American girl? With--if the personality inventory is accurate--perhaps some taste for adventure and perhaps a streak of the bohemian?"

"Not enough to affect my work negatively, I hope you'll agree."

"Your work is fine, Diane. No problems at all on that score."

"Thank you."

"What's your current situation regarding love and romance?"

"'Between boyfriends' is how I'd describe it."

"A pity. Though good, from another perspective.... You are fairly broadminded when it comes to intimate matters, we have some reason to believe, and you have had a reasonable amount of experience in the area. It's hard to tell from our files what is fact and what is inference, but I wouldn't be surprised if the picture included men, possibly including a married man or two, an occasional woman, interracial. A threesome wouldn't be unimaginable. Nothing especially kinky, I believe, certainly nothing felonious. We could just say you're a social liberal."

"I'm a lapsed Catholic," she stated. "When we lapse, we do a good job of it. I'm told we make very good lovers."

Uhler smiled. Once again, Diane's reply was bolder and more candid than strictly necessary.

"You do," he said, still smiling. "Make very good lovers. I went so far as to marry one of you. No regrets there.... Of course, what you, personally, do in bed is only a small part of your total self, and not the most important part. You are a complex and interesting person, Diane, impressive in several ways." He looked at the screen. "You're apparently quite a sharpshooter with a.22 pistol, if one can believe the local newspaper. Some volunteer work at the food pantry. Never married; no children. No sign of drug or alcohol abuse. You refuse to cross picket lines. That's an odd item. I haven't seen a picket line in years."

"Stop and Shop supermarkets," she said. "2020, I think. Just at the start of COVID. Then hospital nurses in Norwich, I think later the same year, though that strike didn't affect me at all. Not to mention nursing home workers here and there, all over the state, then and now."

"I stand corrected," he said. "Social liberalism aside, you are very good at your job, in a surprisingly conservative industry. You are much, much more than whatever it is you do in bed, Diane. But let's not devalue any part of you. You are an extremely smart woman. You can see the direction this conversation is heading. The destination may be less clear."

"I'm picturing a scenario like this," she said. "I sign up to take this 'alternative upward path' you mentioned. Somebody higher up in this company will attempt to get into my pants and will expect to succeed. I get the impression the lucky guy is not you yourself--which is sort of a shame, in a way, as I owe you a lot. I also get the impression that, when he makes this attempt, I am expected to comply. Maybe it's not only one lucky guy. Maybe it's several. What I don't understand is why I would consent."

"Not only for the money, certainly," Uhler replied, "though your new salary would be well above your present one. Maybe for the chance of rising fairly high, fairly quickly, in the organization, despite the bad economy? For the opportunity to get out of the career backwater that our department is and chart a bolder course? Maybe for the chance to thumb your nose at a lifetime of corporate drudgery--at the slow slog up the corporate ladder, always succeeding at the expense of others, compromising more of your principles at every rung?"

"Are you suggesting that prostitution wouldn't compromise my principles?" she inquired. Politely but with an edge. Good for her.

"It would indeed, if 'prostitution' is how you would classify what you would be doing. But think some more. How many women have ever had sex with a man at a time when they didn't particularly want to have sex?"

"We all have. More often than you'd care to realize."

"Correct. Presumably that doesn't make you a prostitute. Or else all women are prostitutes. I'm voting for the first one.... But let's continue. How many women have ever had sex with a man they knew they didn't love and possibly didn't even want to see again?"

"We all have. Sometimes saying yes is just a lot easier than saying no--and then explaining why not, and then arguing for a half hour."

"Correct again. Now, how many men and women in business have prostituted themselves,

in one way or another,

to get ahead? Sometimes literally--or, more often, in ways that didn't involve anyone's genitals? Maybe compromising parts of one's self more important than genitals--like principles? Values? Religious and ethical beliefs? Family relations? How many people successful in business have never prostituted themselves, in any way, ever?"

"Okay," she said, "you made your point.... No: more than that. You're right."

Uhler stood, moved in front of her chair. He put his hand on her shoulder and looked down into her brown eyes. "And also, maybe, in your personality assessment, alongside the confidence, the strength, the independence, the bohemian tendencies, the social principles... maybe there's a touch of a submissive streak too? A delight in being dominated once in a while? That's very common in strong, capable women, believe it or not.

"And apart from young Mr. Bailey--and perhaps that gentleman in Saint Kitts--that side of you hasn't gotten much exercise, has it? The men you get involved with are the sort that admire and respect strong, capable women. It would never occur to them, on their own, to tie you up, spank your bottom, and then sodomize you, would it?"

Uhler heard a sharp intake of breath. He continued. "It would never occur to them, on their own, to make you kneel and blow first themselves and then their friend as they stand side-by-side in front of you."

Diane let out a soft sound, its meaning unclear, conceivably a whimper. Uhler smiled and went on. "And you were always too embarrassed to ask them to, right? So you do without. But even if and when you eventually find the courage to ask, that's still just role-playing, right?

"But now suppose you could be submissive, dominated,

for real

once in a while. Not just fantasize about it as you masturbate or as you fuck. You could do it in a safe environment, with people you could be confident would not harm you. Suppose too that you would be handsomely rewarded for doing this. Handsomely rewarded for actually experiencing some of the things you've fantasized about for... how long?... close to a decade?

"Most of the time you wouldn't even be doing anything especially kinky or physically uncomfortable. Just having very pleasant, emotionally unattached sex with a reasonably attractive, well-groomed, fairly affluent, and probably pretty skilled partner. Which, I would wager, ranks somewhere in the top half of your fantasy list. A "zipless fuck," as they used to say.

"Of course, who's to say that an emotional attachment couldn't develop? And indeed you might find yourself tied, spanked, and sodomized on occasion. Or required to kneel and blow first one man and then another. Possibly asked to give or receive urine. Not every day, for any of that, of course. That would get old very quickly. But perhaps once in a while. All that sounds more like pleasure than torture, don't you think? Plus, in doing it, you would be helping the company significantly."

Diane's lips pursed. Her tongue touched her upper lip. But she was frowning.

Uhler continued. "You would interact mostly with men, of course, but also with the occasional attractive woman. That would be an enjoyable change, once in a while, wouldn't it? I believe it's been a few years since you last had the opportunity. It's not all that easy to arrange in the outside world, is it? For that matter, even for an attractive young woman like yourself, just getting laid is often surprisingly hard, isn't it? Unless the woman already has a steady boyfriend--or is willing to take some extremely big and dangerous risks."

Uhler paused for a minute to let things sink in. He and Diane gave each other fairly blank looks. Then he spoke again. "Finally, imagine that, at more or less the same time as these pleasant activities, you would be impressing others high in the company with your own considerable skills, including your business skills.

"All the while, you'd still be doing some of your usual work. Still doing the manufacturing cost accounting and quality assurance work that you do so well. With a reduced workload for that part of your job, of course. We're not talking about a radical change of career. We're talking about taking on some additional responsibilities."

"Why me?" Diane interrupted. "There are women in Sales who, rumor has it, already have experience in this area."

"Yes," Uhler replied. "And two of them are on our short list for this position. Here's a couple advantages you have. The sales ladies' motivations were mostly personal gain. But you, obviously, have a certain ethical breadth and complexity. We expect that breadth will enable consistently good work, even on occasions when the personal gain may be far from apparent. Plus you have a certain youth and freshness that will be helpful in this position."

Diane's blank look was gone. Now she looked upset and confused--emotions that, in the past, Uhler had glimpsed in her only rarely and briefly. Upset and confused are good signs at this point, he knew. Assumptions and boundaries have been knocked askew. The previously unthinkable is being thought, weighed. Time to close the deal, he decided. This is the right move for her. He felt relieved.

"Shall we give it just a little trial, Diane? A small feasibility study, perhaps? See if the alternative path is a possibility for you or not? Just test the waters a little?"

She looked up at him. "All right," she said quietly. "Let's."

"Show me your pussy, Diane.... Go ahead. Do it now."

She hesitated, then pulled her skirt up as high as she could manage. But the lining was stiff, and the skirt would not stay up. She stood, unbuttoned and unzipped the skirt, and let it drop to the floor. Trembling a little, she took off her low heels, then worked her pantyhose down to her ankles and off. She realized she could never explain, even to herself, why she was doing this. She slowly pulled her ice-blue low-cut panties down and off. The slight breeze on her vulva from the ventilation felt both pleasant and naughty.

Diane put the skirt, hose and panties onto the table; then she sat again, knees together. She saw that her shirttails were blocking the view of her pubic mound. She moved them aside. This is insane, she thought. Totally inappropriate. And here I am, doing it.

She's conflicted, Uhler decided, but she's not about to bolt. He savored the moment. Her eyes avoided his.

"Open your legs, Diane."

She moved her knees about eight inches apart and stopped. After several seconds, without further prompting, she spread her legs wide and leaned back in the chair. She was surprised by how pleasant the cool leather felt against her bottom and the back of her thighs. The slight breeze on her pussy was pleasant, too. She closed her eyes for a half minute--focusing on the sensations.

Uhler's eyes focused on her crotch. He moved to get a better view. This was the moment he had most looked forwards to. The moment when the woman dives into the water. "Takes the plunge," the phrase goes. The moment when, like Huck Finn, she says "All right, then, I'll

go

to hell!" and takes those first steps down the socially forbidden path.

He gazed. Diane's pubic mound was thinly covered with straight brown hair. He preferred curly, but straight was no deal-breaker. At least she hadn't removed it all. The hair was neatly trimmed at the sides. Her upper thighs and her lovely, plump outer labia were bare and smooth. No tattoos in sight, thank God. He looked upwards to her face. Her eyes were open again, and she was looking uncomfortable and embarrassed again--which made her pubic display all the more erotic. He felt his cock stiffen.

"You look lovely, Diane. Simply lovely. Please keep the pubic hair unless someone

very

important tells you otherwise. Look me in the eye, please." After a couple of seconds she complied. "How are you feeling?"

"Awkward, to say the least," she said. "Embarrassed. Humiliated."

Uhler reached and touched the cleft of her labia, down by her vagina. She flinched slightly. His finger registered warm moisture.

"And aroused," he said.

"Yes."

"We'll try one more thing," he announced. "This time I'll let you decide. Masturbate to orgasm a couple of times or else blow me."

A look of alarm leapt to her face. She stared at him.

"Which is it?" he demanded.

Diane pondered for a few more seconds. "I'll blow you, Mr. Uhler."

"Good girl. Let's go."

He took a step away from the table, and she knelt on the carpet before him. With a slightly trembling hand, she lowered his zipper then paused to consider logistics. In the porn videos the girl would leave the trousers up and pull his penis out through the fly, perhaps his testicles too. That would be photogenic as hell, though not so easy to pull off with aplomb in the real world. And zippers have teeth. She decided they would both enjoy the experience more with his pants down. She undid the belt and the fastener and tugged trousers and briefs together down to the floor.

She brought her head close and inhaled deeply. His crotch smelled pleasant. Clean enough, and mild, but clearly the scent of a warm-blooded male animal, not a pot of violets. Probably pheromones galore. Whatever: it worked for her. She placed her lips against the very tip of the glans, wetting it, touching the prepuce very gently with her tongue. Then, her hands grasping his upper thighs, she began licking the entire surface of his cock. It stiffened. She put her mouth around the outer three inches; held and sucked, caressing him again with her tongue. Then her mouth released him, and she spoke.

"How would you like it, Mr. Uhler? Long and leisurely? Short and intense? In-between?"

Uhler glanced at his wristwatch. "Short and intense, I think. First stand and strip naked."

Diane rose and faced him. She removed her jacket and dropped it onto a leather chair, then her silk blouse. She looked away as she removed her bra--ice-blue, to match the panties on the table. She left the thin gold necklace in place. Her hands started to move to cover her breasts, but she caught herself. She stood straight, hands at her sides, her eyes avoiding his.

Uhler appraised her breasts. They were about average in size--which is a perfectly delightful size, he had always felt--and they had an equally delightful shape: somewhere between a hemisphere and a slightly droopy cone. The areolas were brown and round, the size of quarters. You wouldn't find many nicer breasts in Tolland Health and Beauty Products.

"Kiss me now."

The command surprised her, but she complied. She moved close, put one hand behind his head, the other on his lower back, and commenced a long and sweet kiss. After seven or eight seconds she gave him her tongue. As they kissed, Uhler explored her bottom and breasts with his hands.