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Danielle was late for work, horribly late actually. Just a few minutes past getting her ass handed to her on a pretty pink slip. Her knees were already starting to knock involuntarily in anticipation for the chewing out that was going to happen. Danielle worked for Generex, a company so prestigious that the first floor toilets could be eaten off of. Her position, or whatever was left of it, was to make sure that the big man was happy. If she was a no-show, the big man was not going to be happy.
She pressed the elevator button to the thirtieth floor. It didn’t work. The silver 3-0 stared back at her waiting for an appropriate response. Nothing. It was supposed to glow and sigh pleasantly as if recognizing it’s passion on earth was to ferry her to her destination. The button instead stuck it’s tongue out at her as if recognizing that she was no longer a constituent of the company and should no longer be privy to its compliance. Danielle leaned backward, letting the far wall of the elevator catch her. She peeked through an eye lid at the mirror tiled ceiling, asking it silently for help and wondering when if at any time this miserable day would get started and then hopefully end. Then the elevator doors opened.
A man stepped in. Her body straightened to attention, pretending that it hadn’t just been slouched against a wall. He paid no more attention to her than a passer-by pays attention to a street bum. He pressed his button, 32, and slid a silver card through an almost invisible slot. The elevator, elated that it was finally in use, dinged merrily and proceeded to take it’s legitimate and illegitimate passenger on a ride. Danielle fought the urge to smack herself on the forehead. Of course, the stupid access card.
The man was calm, composed, obviously not in trouble of losing his job. From the point of view from the mirror tiled ceiling, she could see that he had no bald spots, no dandruff and no forward lean to his stance. He was taller than most men she’d stayed in an elevator with and was normal looking enough to hide in a crowd. By floor twenty-nine her stomach dropped to her toes as the approaching doom loomed just a floor away.
At floor thirty-two, Danielle exited with the man, trailing him five feet behind as to not grow suspicion. He wasn’t fazed by her at all, in fact he disappeared through a mahogany colored door and waved her good-bye. Strange. Thirty-two was a floor reserved for the best bullshiters. Floor thirty, her floor, reserved for the mediocre. It smelled like leather and dark stained wood on this floor. These secretaries wore fancy undergarments if any under their skin tight pencil skirts. Two floors down it smelled like old white men who kissed ass all day. Secretaries on floor thirty wore flat shoes that made their asses look like a steamroller drove over them. Except for her boss, and except for her. Danielle hit the stairs, one hundred feet away from the elevator, and stumbled the two floors down to her destiny.
“You’re in deep shi-“
Danielle rushed past Marco, the always pleasant, never judgmental receptionist. She could still hear him clicking his tongue as she zoomed through the cubicle land and into her boss’s office. He didn’t look up, he didn’t ask her to leave either. Danielle’s boss was older than her by a decade and more. While she was learning her ABCs he was making his first million dollars. While she was sneaking out of her bedroom window and onto the back of her less-than-parental approved-boyfriend’s-motorcycle, he had divorced his first wife leaving her nothing due to a well written pre-nup.
Her boss gave her hives when she thought about him sexually, which happened more often than it should. He was the straight version of Anderson Cooper handsome. Must have started graying around birth and kept his Mexican maid ironed crisp white shirts tucked into a tailored pair of black trousers. Eyes were piercing blue as a Siberian husky and a low voice that made the panties wet three floors above from the deep vibrations. His coat hung unattended and unused for the remainder of the day on a coat hanger strategically placed behind his desk. If she had any fantasies during the day, they involved taking his coat on and off; allowing her hands to graze against the width of his shoulder blades, following the muscles all the way down to their insertion points. She would make him breakfast, bring him coffee, and consider birthing an heir to his kingdom if he ever asked. Today, she’d forgotten to be available to prep him for a meeting for a deal that could potentially cost the company quadruple more than her student loan.
“I-” Boss raised his hand to pause her. Without looking up, he pointed to a chair in front of his desk. Gulp.
“Shut the door first,” he commanded. His voice didn’t carry and it was gentle and smooth, like the calm before a storm. Danielle tip toed backward, finding bahis firmaları the knob, and pushing it shut trying to make as little noise as possible. Boss, still engrossed in his papers, waited quietly as she twisted and knotted her fingers waiting for the inevitable. She sat down in the chair, crossing her legs to help stay conservative in a short white wool skirt.
The silence was deafening. It screamed in her ear, taunting, tingling, tickling. Danielle stared at the floor in front of his desk. He wood and dark colors. No books on his shelves, just photos of him plus insert foreign prince, king, president. His rugs were Persian and his desk was barren. No intriguing artifact or sand garden. Not even a name plate because by now every clerical staff to custodian should know his name.
“What to do?” He asked. Danielle perked up, the tears that had welled up in her eyes struggled to get sucked back in.
“Sorry?” Boss drummed his short fingernails on the desk. They were perfectly manicured, perfectly shaped, perfect. He leaned back into his leather desk chair pausing for dramatic effect. The body hiding beneath his clothing was not mid-life plump like some of the other big wigs on the top floors. Boss had kept lean through an implemented regimen of his design. Exercise and health were important aspects for him, and he only hired those who proved to be fit and calorie conscious. Danielle had fit his bill. She even had to prove her gym membership was current and consistent before he would hire her. It counted as one of her references.
“Danielle,” she quivered deep inside whenever he said her name, “I want to make sure this never happens again.”
She bobbled like a little hommie on a dash board, “It won’t.” She would have three alarms set if that’s what she had to do. Disappointing him was last one her list; next to drinking from the drinking fountain next to the bathroom.
“You are attracted to me aren’t you, Danielle?” That was an understatement.
How to phrase what she had tried to keep hidden all of these years went something like, “You know you are.” She hadn’t meant for that to sound cheeky, but by the way his chair rocked forward as if surprised by her answer, she knew deep shi- was exactly what she was in for.
Danielle felt the liquid excitement rush down with gravity. Suppose she did act out on this feeling. What if. . .
“I want you to sit there and consider the implications that your tardiness has caused. I went into that meeting unprepared!” His voice rose and the butterfly effect started. There would be an earthquake in Indonesia by day’s end. Danielle felt a dozen tears well up again. Do not cry, she chanted biting a lower lip. Such excitement, first arousal, then fear. Her first encounter with Boss was four years ago when he interviewed her for the position. She’d left the office wetter than a high school boy in the girls’ locker room and unsure whether he wanted to hire her or condemn her to a nunnery.
“I’ll make it up to you,” Danielle spit out. How? Who knew? She quickly tallied a list of additional services she could provide: retrieval of dry cleaning, shoe shining, tooth brushing. It definitely wouldn’t hurt to wear a shorter skirt.
“I know you will. First, tell me something.” Another dramatic pause, they were adding up, “Do you think I’m attractive. It’s a yes or no question, Danielle.”
Danielle chewed on the inside of her cheek before answering, “Yes.”
“Good.” He sat up and leaned forward hypnotizing her with his stare and taking a little bit of her willpower with him. “Take this,” he handed her an envelope that had it been any more symbolic, would have been sealed with a wax family crest. “You will follow those directions if you want to keep your position. And Danielle, could you fill the printer with paper before you leave.”
Sure, anything you say, master. Danielle stood up and brushed down her skirt. Boss had returned his soul stealing eyes to the top of his desk. No longer paying the least bit of attention to her. She had a feeling their business transaction wasn’t completed yet. In the far corner of the room, Boss had a personal printer he never touched. Danielle had spent many late nights kicking it with her Jimmy Chos. She bent over, bending her knees to get to the paper drawer.
“No,” he startled her. Danielle froze, sweat glistened on her forehead and she turned back to him expecting a smack to the back of the head. But no, he was still seated at his desk, eyes on the stack of annual reports.
Danielle stood straight, tugging down her skirt again which had ridden up when she had bent over and rolled her shoulders back.
“Don’t bend your knees.” Boss insisted, “Lean forward, keep your back flat, and let your skirt do what it’s supposed to do.”
Danielle complied. She turned back to the printer, bent forward at her hips, and felt the cloth of her skirt rise up her thighs. Never one for hose or large-and-in-charge kaçak iddaa stomach holding in granny panties, Danielle wore thongs. She liked the invisible seams, the feeling of the liner against her hot lower lips, and the naughty girl personae that came with them. She could hear the sound of papers rustling and a few sharp intakes of air. Was it her, or was the room a little more stuffy? Her bottom was not exposed completely. If his eye sight was good, he would be able to tell she was wearing a creamy white thong and that the soft luxurious spot between her legs was a little moist. Danielle wanted to bend lower and touch her pretty red painted toes. Her three inch stilettos gave her ass a nice plump shoe box to present itself on. She opened the drawer, took her time arranging the paper, swaying her hips left then right and oops dropped a sheet on the floor, let me get that.
“Danielle,” Her name brought her back to reality.
“Yes,” She stood up straight again, bumping her head on the printer drawer. A soft curse and a few more tugs on her skirt hem.
“I like punctual sex kittens.” That took her breath away. Danielle shuffled out of the office and into the nearest single restroom for privacy and evaluation of what-the-hell-had-just-happened. She was still clutching his envelope in her right hand, understating its value by crumpling it. Three deep breaths later she was still staring at the envelope. She’d flattened it out on the sink counter. The sticker peeled off, the triangular flap pulled up. Now what? Her fingers trembled and the black hole she just got vacuumed into lost oxygen. The paper inside was a list.
I don’t think that you are enjoying your time here. You should feel challenged, like every day is a new adventure. Above all, I do not want you to be late ever again. I do not tolerate tardiness and I do not tolerate a secretary who thinks that I should let her get off without consequences. If you value your career, comply with the following rules. If you feel your time will be better served elsewhere, leave. But let’s make this job a little more exhilarating for you and me.
1). No Bras
2). No tan lines
3). No pantyhose or panty lines
4). Only dresses or skirts, never cross the legs.
5). Blouses must have front buttons
6). Compliance will be verified every morning
Danielle sucked in a breath and slipped a hand under her blouse to release the hooks of her bra. It slid off too easily as the straps dropped down to either elbow and her tits came pointing outward almost obnoxiously visible through the floral print blouse. The feel of her tight nipples against the fabric caused her panties to get a little wetter as thoughts of her boss danced through her head. She balled up the bra and deposited it into her purse along with the envelope. This was the start of an amazing game.
She returned to her desk passing a few gawking mail boys and Marco the receptionist. Taking the part of her sassy gay friend he remarked, “You’re a stupid bitch.”
Danielle flicked him off and went over the list again and again in her head trying to figure out where she slid down the rabbit hole. Must have been this morning when she missed the train, or when she spilled the coffee all over her first outfit. Inside his office, the boss was making very important phone calls and demanding reports from various minions. Danielle sat pretty; mentally raising her hand and waiting to get called on again. By lunch time she was starved for attention, her tits had gotten so hard they’d poke into things unexpectedly. She’d brushed them against the break room vending machine, the stall door in the bathroom, and a very surprised accountant from floor twenty-two. If she went on any longer like this, she would start using them as coat hooks.
By three p.m. the she had made a puddle on her chair and created several different scenarios involving a stapler and a paper clip. The intercom on her phone lit up, he was beckoning. Danielle sat up, nipples still harder than Marco at a Cher concert, and strutted into his office. Her hips swayed involuntarily as if attached to stings he was controlling. Danielle was instructed to shut the door and sit on a bar stool in front of his desk. The presence of the bar stool amused her, where it had come from and when had it gotten there were questions she didn’t want to ask.
As she sat down, the hem of her skirt worked its magic, slivering up to her upper thighs. Her knees stayed uncrossed, like the instructions, and her nipples stuck outwards as if trying to shake hands with Boss. He didn’t look up, just at his computer screen tapping away at the keys. Danielle growing more aroused by the second. Finally, the door behind him opened and the man from the elevator walked in. Boss and elevator man gave slight nods in each other’s direction, as if to acknowledge but not greet.
Danielle took in more of him this time. He was slim, age undetermined definitely older than her, kaçak bahis and a bright blue tie. Elevator stood behind Danielle hands by his sides, her head forced to remain forward. She was asked to stay upright her chest pushed to where it wanted to go, in his hands.
Boss took his eyes away from the screen long enough to say, “Danielle, this is my associate from floor thirty-two. He is to make sure you comply with the rules I’ve set. He’s informed me that the two of you have already met, is this true?”
“I went up in the elevator with him,” Danielle stammered, not sure if that qualified meeting him.
“Then you should be properly introduced. Danielle, stay still. Do not move unless I tell you to, and you must listen only to me.” Danielle nodded scared that she’d already broken the rules. The elevator man was a few millimeters behind her. His breath on her neck was already getting her ready to orgasm and his prick had been pushing against the small of her back now for the past two minutes. She felt his hands come around, brushing past the edges of her arms and began to massage her breasts beneath her blouse. She let out a moan to show him just how much she appreciated the attention.
The elevator man unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her chest to her boss for the first time. Boss sat back in his chair. He slipped a hand into his trousers and watched her as the elevator man cupped each breast squeezing them individually, testing their firmness. Danielle wanted to touch him in return, but the second her hand left the bar stool, Boss demanded she put it back down. She quivered reluctantly and allowed her knees to spread wider.
Boss and her new friend exchanged subtle jaw movements and Danielle felt her skirt being tugged up higher. She felt her white ass cheeks against the cool top of the bar stool as her thong was snatched off of her. She made a sudden gasp only to be stood up and bent over onto the stool, facing the floor. Her bottom up in the air, she felt a slight pang of embarrassment, knowing that they would see her, all of her; from her waxed pussy to her pink core. Her stomach screamed in discontent from being planted on top of the stool. Below, her legs stretched to her toes, gently applying pressure to her stilettos. Elevator man took a step back examining her, slipping a finger in and out of her tight tunnel, knowing which buttons to press down there and this time he didn’t need an access card. Danielle shivered with pleasure, the second another finger slid deep into her wet pussy, she was only a second from the biggest climax she would ever have when he pulled out and motioned for Boss to take a look.
They spoke behind her, their voices hushed. A hand would occasionally brush against her bottom as if examining her; testing her. Danielle started to rise, her head turned toward them as if to ask permission before she lifted her body off the stool, but as soon as she did, two hands gripped her thighs firmly. The blunt head of a warm cock slipped through her silky smooth folds and all was lost in translation.
“Oh God,” she groaned grasping the legs of the stool to keep her steady. His strong strokes caused her vocal cords to show their appreciation of each pump. It didn’t matter who it was anymore, the Boss or the his associate, she knew he was a part of it and that’s all that mattered. Danielle came not a second later, her body wobbled on the stool causing her to almost loose her balance and fall off. Two man hands grasped her hips to reposition her so that she was standing up at an angle, legs spread eagle, another orgasm creeping up right behind the first.
He didn’t speak, whichever one it was, just thrust deeper into her than any man had ever before. Danielle was able to hold onto the top of the bar stool in front of her for balance, but she desperately wanted to know where her Boss was. Was he watching her? Was he fucking her? Another deep push to the her hilt caused a wave of pleasure to rush through her. Her core was squeezing him so tightly that he began slowing his pace to keep from losing himself. Suddenly her boss appeared in front of her. Danielle’s body rocked with his associate, mindlessly getting screwed for his benefit.
Boss reached towards her, grabbing a nipple and squeezing it, pulling her glazed gaze up to his.
“Just wanted to make sure you really were a good fuck,” he said and walked around his desk to sit down.
Danielle felt the throws of his associate’s orgasm inside of her. He gripped her waist tightly, pushing her down and thrusting until he’d spent himself silly. Danielle captured as much oxygen as she could, breathing deep gulps of air until she could finally pick up the pieces of the fantasmagasm that had just occurred.
“Tomorrow, remember the rules,” her boss said as she tugged her skirt back into place and buttoned the blouse.
“Yes, sir,” she answered politely, refusing to look his associate in the eyes. She left the office awkwardly, her hair a mess, her make-up smudged. Danielle packed up her bits of dignity and started leaving for the day.
But she had one last pass through Marco’s snarky catch phrases, “Honey, you look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet.”
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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