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Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
OFFICE SLAVE
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Chapter One
"Your name is Veronica Van Paachen?" the man behind the desk asked.
"You pronounced it right the first time!" the female complimented
him brightly.
"I had hoped it would rhyme with 'passion,'" the man replied in a flat,
monotone voice. "This position requires that you know two foreign
languages," the man proceeded.
"Oh, I do, French and Russian," Veronica replied, her eyes fixed
studiously on her interviewer. He was impeccably groomed, dressed in a
Brooks Brothers suit, and as formal in his bearing as his attire. Despite
this, or perhaps because of it, Veronica found herself deeply affected by
him. The word "stiff" came to mind, and it was not defined solely by his
demeanor.
"Have you ever had supervisory experience?" the man, who had
introduced himself only as Robert, asked.
"Yes," Veronica replied. "Before I got married I supervised over fifty
people. I was head of a construction firm."
"A construction firm?" Robert asked, breaking his first sign of
emotion as a look of surprise spread across his face.
"Yes," Veronica replied. "Fifty workers, almost all men, except for a
few school girls who came in after their college classes to lay tiles. I
was responsible for completion of a small luxury housing community. I
brought the project in on time and under budget."
"How excellent," Robert said, touching his pen to his lips before
making a notation on his form.
"The children in the hall, the toddler and the baby, how will they
affect your ability to perform in a job? The one I am offering is strictly
full time, you know," Robert said.
"Oh! They'll be no problem! No problem at all!" Veronica blurted, but
the apprehension that that question had brought to her eyes belied her
response.
"Veronica," Robert said. There was a reproving disposition to his
voice. "I say this in the gentlest of tones--you must be completely honest
with me." Veronica's eyes slipped from his face to look at her lap. "Lift
your eyes," Robert said. "Look into mine." Veronica obeyed. "The children,
they are a burden to you, are they not? Even now."
"Yes, sir," Veronica replied quietly.
"You are a very talented, professional woman, Veronica," Robert said.
Her face took on a very sad countenance. He smiled. "And now you think
my next sentence is going to begin with the word 'but,' don't you?"
Veronica's face showed that she did. "And," Robert continued, his voice
lending a special, almost relished emphasis to the conjunction, "And
despite all your years of college, even getting an advanced degree, despite
your work experience as a highly efficient manager, you find yourself
today married and with two children. Children who take all of your time
with their many demands." Veronica nodded.
"I ask this only in a philosophical sense," Robert said, leaning back in
his chair, lifting his pen airily. "Why does a woman like yourself, and you
are not the only one, why does such a woman have children? If I may
compliment you without being sexist, at 23 you are still a bit young to be
burdened with motherhood."
"Oh! They're not my children!" Veronica exclaimed. "You're right,
there are a number of 23-year-old mothers, even ones who are rapidly
ascending in their field, but these children belong to my husband. By a
prior marriage."
"I see," Robert replied, a trace of a grin twitching the corners of his
mouth. "Of course there is another class of young professional women like
yourself who meet a man and overlook the tots trailing in his wake...until
one morning you find yourself married to him and he walks out the door for
work. Leaving the children behind."
"Right," Veronica agreed. "I guess I never really thought about it
until after we were married. We came back from our honeymoon and the
next day he got up and kissed me goodbye and left. And I turned around and
found myself staring at an overturned bowl of frosty flakes and a crying
baby that needed changing."
"Forgive me, but my question does actually have an occupational
purpose; your marriage, does your husband devote to you the time a
husband should?" Veronica gulped.
"No," she said quietly, glancing back down at her lap. Robert sensed
that she felt a hidden gladness at being asked this question, as if finally
she had someone to share her feelings with. Someone other than the nosy
housewife next door.
"He does not," Robert summarized. He cleared his throat. "Veronica,
you will think I am letting this interview get completely out of bounds,
but I must tell you that I find you an exceedingly attractive woman."
Veronica looked up at him, surprised but clearly not offended. "It is not
only your physical appearance, which any 18-year-old would have, but your
demeanor, your thoroughly accomplished bearing."
"Thank you, sir," Veronica replied. An imperious air had returned to
her form. She cracked only the slightest of smiles, smiling more with her
eyes than her lips.
"The qualifications which I listed in the classified section of the
professional journal you read are met in every respect by your
background," Robert said. "I require a woman with all those attributes
because" and here he paused and looked her directly in the eyes, almost
piercing her with his stare "because this is the sort of woman I most
enjoy liberating."
Veronica sat speechless for a moment. "Liberating?" she asked
finally, struggling to keep her regal manner which Robert had said he
found so attractive.
"Yes," Robert replied. "There are some girls who are giggly
teenagers, and I certainly enjoy requiring labor of them, and there are
college girls, unsure yet in their role as a woman and their place in
society, and those girls also I find delight in. And then there are the
women like yourself, young wives caught up unexpectedly in the cares of
the world, women who find their lives and dreams crimped by the onrush
of reality. These I most enjoy putting to work."
"Because?" was all Veronica could say, her mind still racing to catch
up with the highly unsettling direction their discussion had suddenly
taken.
"Because I long to see you stripped of your executive manner, naked
and perspiring, forced to perform menial tasks and undergoing ordeals of
my choosing." Robert said in a hot, almost ferocious voice. Veronica
gasped.
"I-I think I hear my baby crying," Veronica said suddenly, making to
rise.
"Sit down!" Robert roared, and rose himself to better enforce his
edict. He came around the edge of his desk and leaned in toward Veronica
menacingly.
"You will not be left to rot in suburbia, left to grow wrinkled and
worn with another man's children," He breathed, his breath blowing in
warm puffs with each word into Veronica's face. "You are a beautiful
woman, and I will treat you royally, but I will also require much of you."
Veronica stared back at him, her eyes offended and defiant.
"Enough!" Robert said, standing. He put both hands to the lapels of
his coat and straightened it. "You may leave now, but you have my number.
When you are ready, you will call." Veronica rose abruptly from her chair.
Her hands clutched her small purse in front of her.
"You sir, are an evil, sexist pig!" Veronica said with all the
opprobrium she could muster.
"On the contrary, my dear, it is your husband who is that. Unlike
him, I shall devote my utmost attention to you, as I do all my slaves."
Veronica started, eyes wide. "I shall lavish you with gifts and money for
your favorite clothes, but I will also require you to run buck naked in the
out-of-doors, as nude and tempting as Eve herself on the day God created
her."
"My heart belongs to my husband, you fucking bastard!" Veronica
bleated.
"It is well that you are loyal, for I require that quality in my
charges," Robert replied, unfazed. Veronica was trembling now. She knew
the things Robert said of her husband were true. He would never pay her
the attention she craved, would never treat her to candlelit dinners or
soapy bubble baths in anything more than a perfunctory manner, hurrying
to get it over with so he could get back to his financial affairs. But
Robert--" Veronica pursed her lips. He was so strikingly handsome, and so
very interested in her-- she dismissed the thought from her mind.
SLAP! Veronica's gloved hand, tied so daintily at the wrist with a
bow of silk, became suddenly a weapon of feminine vengeance. Robert's
face twitched and flew to one side as she slapped him hard across his
cheek. "I should report you to the authorities," Veronica said, and turned
stiffly on her four-inch spiked heels. With rolling hips, she strutted away
from him. Her pinned up locks bobbed as she walked.
Veronica put her hand to the door of Robert's office. She attempted
to turn its handle. The door was locked. Veronica looked over her
shoulder. "You fiend!" Veronica breathed. Robert smiled.
"It is not as you think, though I will mention in passing that this
room is sound-proofed, and there is another exit from whence a
recalcitrant female could be escorted without anyone ever knowing of her
departure," Robert said. "However," he lifted a remote control. "That is
not my way." Robert pressed a button on the remote and Veronica heard
the door unlock. Incredulously, she turned from him. Her hand tried the
door. It opened easily.
There were several dozen guests. Outside it was bright, high noon.
A promenade beckoned those who wished to walk in the open air. The
interior of the private club was panelled with dark wood. It seemed to
soak up all the light that spilled down from the overhead chandeliers. Fat
leather chairs were scattered around the room, but Robert and Veronica
were standing. TheyÕd just arrived. Most of the guests had just arrived
and, except for a few of the older women and men, weighed down by age,
they were all standing and talking, casually. Waiters in white tuxes
moved through the room. They bore silver trays with cocktails on them.
ÒMint Julep?Ó a waiter asked Veronica. She smiled, plucked a glass
from the waiterÕs tray. Robert did the same.
"And what do you do for a living?" the bald, rotund man asked
conversationally.
"I train fillies," Robert replied. The bald man, sipping from a
cocktail, spluttered and coughed.
"And you my dear?" the bald man asked Veronica when heÕd regained
his composure.
"My life is with Robert," Veronica answered.
"Though she is a multi-talented girl," Robert added. He lifted a
finger and coiled it in Veronica's hair. "Are you not, my dear?"
"Yes," Veronica smiled. She wore her hair piled up in a coif, with
loose strands here and there, hanging down, to catch menÕs eyes, and
RobertÕs inquiring finger.
"She is fluent in both Russian and French," Robert said to the fat
man.
"I see," the fat, bald man replied admiringly. "And many other things
as well, I suppose?"
"Indeed," Robert said.
ÒMortimer!Ó a woman intoned. She was short, chubby. She appeared
at the fat manÕs side and tugged at his sleeve. She seemed to be drowning
in jewelry. It ringed her throat and covered her fingers. ÒMortimer,
mother would like to see the horses!Ó the woman said to the fat man.
Robert and Veronica glided away. Together they strolled out onto
the promenade. Flowering vines hung down from its roof. It shielded them
from the brightness of the noonday sun. Out in the grass, beneath a white
tent, a quartet symphony played. Beyond, on a neatly clipped field, polo
horses pranced. A buzz of conversation flowed out from the interior of
the club and was lost amidst the chirping of birds. They flitted amongst
the trees that graced the clubÕs lawn. Couples, walking slowly, moved up
and down the promenade. Some ventured into the grass. All were dressed
to the nines, in tuxes or blazers or expensive gowns. It was noontime at
the club, the lunch hour, where the idle rich and the new rich gathered to
pass the time and take in some polo.
"How do you know I'm as talented as you made me out to be?"
Veronica asked as she walked hand-in-hand with Robert. He wore a silk
top hat with a matching blazer and slacks. The cloth was violet, the color
of Blue Victoria salvia. Polished black boots sheathed his feet and he
wore black leather gloves.
Veronica wore a ruffled top, a little daring in front, showing her
bosom almost down to the nipples, with a scarf round her neck that tried
to restore her modesty. If the breeze was not too strong, the tails of her
neckerchief laid over her breasts. But a ruffling breeze revealed all and
caused the older women who passed them to frown. VeronicaÕs skirt, too,
was sexily short. It was cut lower in front than in back. From the front,
it seemed modest enough, reaching down to her knees. But in back it rose
up abruptly, higher even than inventive fashion permitted. From behind
one found that VeronicaÕs skirt rose right up to the tops of her thighs. As
if in compromise, Veronica wore dark silk nylons on her legs that kept
their whiteness from being seen. She walked lightly on her thin,
stockinged legs. The passing women would never have guessed that she
was a mother. Her legs were too thin, too schoolgirlish. Granny boots
with silver buckles on them sheathed her feet. Her arms were covered by
the sleeves of her dress. Her hands were mittened by bright yellow gloves
with green trim. The color of her gloves mirrored that of her skirt.
A gardener, riding by on a mower out in the rough far beyond the
portico, turned his head and stared at Veronica. He was harvesting rape
weed. She looked so much like one of their flowers, did he wish to harvest
her too? Even at this distance Veronica could see he had brown hands and
rough skin from years of working under the sun. He turned away. The
scything blades of his mower hurled rape weed up toward the sky and then
into a bag slung from his mower. Within, they were captive. For a moment
Veronica found herself inside the mowerÕs burlap bag, her beauty
snatched, caught, held for processing into rich oils. She turned, regarded
Robert. He had not answered her question. His grip was light upon her
hand but commanding. She tried to withdraw her hand from his and felt
his grip tighten. He stared ahead, tipped his hat to a man who passed
them.
They stopped. An ornate bird feeder stood in the grass and, despite
the heat, a single bird alighted and frolicked in its water. Veronica stared
at it. Then she looked up at Robert.
"How do you know I'm as talented as you made me out to be?" she
asked.
"A sixth sense tells me you are," Robert smiled. Then, after a pause,
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Yes, it's very nice," Veronica replied. "I enjoy your private club very
much."
"You shall enjoy it even more in the future," Robert said. Veronica
made no reply. He escorted her to an alabaster bleacher out on the lawn,
next to the polo field, and they took their seats. On VeronicaÕs seat there
was a stained slip of paper that read, ÒGo to holy joeÕs law school: 1-
916-630-0424.Ó With his gloved hand Robert gallantly brushed it away.
Veronica sat down, tucking her short skirt underneath herself so that her
pantied bottom wouldnÕt make contact with the seat. But, warmed by the
sun, it was uncomfortable. Robert put a finger beneath her chin, gently
lifted her. He spread out a handkerchief from his breast pocket on the
wooden bench, then permitted her to sit once more.
ÒThank you,Ó Veronica said quietly.
ÒMy pleasure,Ó Robert replied. Veronica had a small umbrella with
her and she opened it to protect herself from the sun. A few minutes later
the polo competition began. Robert nodded to several of the riders as they
cantered past, readying for the game. He tipped his silk hat to them. They
halted their horses and looked at Veronica to ask, tacitly, for her favor.
She smiled, waved politely. Inspired, two of the horses reared up and
showed her their strength.
ÒI like horses,Ó Veronica smiled.
ÒThey like you,Ó Robert replied.
It was several hours later when Robert directed his chauffeur to
drive himself and Veronica to the preschool where her children were being
kept for the day. The children were fetched, and on the way home the
toddler made their presence known to all future riders by yanking down
the baby's diapers. The baby, her bottom smeared with the feces of a just
completed bowl movement, plopped down on her seat. In addition to the
odor which rose to fill the nostrils of the travellers a large splotch of
shit was deposited right on Robert's silk covered back seat.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" Veronica cried. She clutched at the baby and fetched
a fresh diaper from her purse. She worked off the soiled diaper and then
set about wiping and powdering her baby's bottom, her face a display of
profound embarrassment. Robert watched her, assuring her that she and
her children had made not the slightest imposition upon him. The toddler,
perhaps to further test Robert's forbearance, began crying.
A strand of Veronica's hair came loose and tumbled down to tangle in
front of her eyes. She pushed it back over her ear and kept working on the
baby. After another minute or so she finished, and had only time to catch
her breath and quiet the toddler before Robert's limousine pulled up in
front of her house. The chauffeur let her out of the car and Robert exited
as well.
"Thank you, dear Robert," Veronica said, standing beside him on the
curb. Her toddler stood beside her, yanking on her arm, babbling of an
imminent cartoon show and pointing toward the house. In her arms her
baby groped at her breast.
"Tomorrow I would like for you to meet me at my office," Robert
said.
"Of course," Veronica replied unhesitatingly.
"In your skimpiest bikini." Robert added. Veronica bit her lip and
looked down.
"Are we going to the beach?" Veronica asked in a small voice.
"No," Robert replied. She looked up at him, eyes smoldering.
"How am I supposed to walk into a downtown office building wearing
nothing but a bikini?" Veronica asked tensely.
"A mink coat shall arrive here before your husband gets home,"
Robert said. "Wear it over your bikini tomorrow. And, of course, you will
want to wear your heels, so you blend in with all the other working girls."
Veronica eyed him closely.
"Including the ones who earn their money solely by wearing bikinis
under their minks," she said accusingly.
"My dear, I have never even once thought of you in that way," Robert
replied.
"Not a whore, just a free squeeze toy," Veronica breathed.
"You accuse me unjustly," Robert replied with amused defensiveness.
"Not only have I paid your way on three surreptitious dates now, but I have
never taken any greater liberty with you than to kiss you goodbye."
"A bikini, Robert?" Veronica asked, eyes narrowing.
"Yes, your very skimpiest," Robert replied. He lifted a hand and
stroked her hair. It was slightly disheveled after her experience with the
children in the car. "You must learn to trust me, Veronica. I really only
have your best interests at heart. Do as I say and rebel as little as your
nature will permit you to."
"Yes, Robert," Veronica replied quietly. The toddler, ever more
insistent with each passing minute, tugged hard on her arm. Veronica
nearly lost her balance, perched as she was on her high heels. Robert
lifted a timely hand and steadied her.
"Goodbye, Robert," Veronica said, lifting her lips, offering her face.
Robert leaned in and kissed her gently.
"Go now," Robert said. "The neighbors are watching." With that
Veronica let her little 3-year-old boy lead her off to her house. Robert
slipped back into his limousine and was gone.
"I'm here to see Mr. DuPont," Veronica said the next morning to his
secretary. She clicked her heels, feeling just a tad unsteady, wondering if
the secretary noticed that her ankles were not clad in nylons.
"Ah yes, he's been expecting you," the older female replied, and
buzzed Robert's door, unlocking it. Veronica let herself into his office.
"Robert?" Veronica asked, seeing him on the far side of the room, at
the room's small wet bar. The door to the office closed behind her.
"Come in, come in my dear," Robert grinned. He was just pouring a
pricey chardonnay into twin goblets./glasses
"The coat is beautiful, thankyou Robert," Veronica said.
"You're quite welcome," Robert said. A woman, hitherto unseen by
Veronica, stepped out of the shadowed recesses of a double row of
bookcases by the front door.
"Please allow me to take your coat," the woman, dressed in the
simple but formal attire of a servant, said in a thick Spanish accent.
Veronica gasped.
"Do not be alarmed," Robert said to Veronica. "Hypatia is new to our
country, with excellent skills but very poor English. She is here only to
assist you. Command her as you please." With great reluctance Veronica
allowed the maid to lift the mink coat from her shoulders. The maid
betrayed not a sound as Veronica's bikini clad flesh came into view.
Veronica gave a toss of her coiffed hair and regained her composure.
With sure, easy steps she walked across the room to Robert. He gazed at
her warmly as she approached. The look in his eyes was one of pleased
surprise, as if she were even more beautiful than he imagined. Certainly
her bikini did little to conceal the charm of her body. The top looked like
little more than a strand of thread with two bra cups added as an
afterthought. To make matters even more enticing, there was not the
customary string tied about the neck to keep the cups from slipping down
off Veronica's breasts. With every step her bosoms jiggled freely,
threatening to bounce right out of her trifling bra.
Veronica's bikini panties left little more to one's imagination. The
front and back consisted of two small triangles of fabric, connected by
long, skinny strings about her flared hips. The strings tied in bows on
either side of her body. "Have I obeyed your instructions properly?"
Veronica asked, reaching Robert and accepting a glass of wine from his
hand.
"Very much so," Robert replied. "And your beauty exceeds my highest
expectations."
"How nice," Veronica purred, and took a sip of the proffered wine.
"Come," Robert said, directing her to a plush, leather covered chair.
"Let us discuss your prospective training." Veronica's leggy body made its
way to the offered chair and she daintily sat down. She crossed her legs.
"You must not do that," Robert said. "Uncross your legs. Do not hide
the beauty between." Obediently Veronica did as she was told. The
juncture of her creamy thighs came into view once more, at a better angle
than it had ever before been displayed to him.
"That's better," Robert said, taking his place behind his desk. The
chair in which Veronica sat was back just far enough to allow him to view
her knees and all that lay above unimpeded. For Veronica, it gave her an
added sense of security, as if she might be able to elude Robert if, in a
sudden fit of passion, he came at her. However when she heard the
rustling of Robert's maid in the background and remembered that she was
locked in, her discomfiture returned. She sat before Robert's desk like a
penitent waiting to make contrition for her sins, to confess all her
badness even as she strove to emphasize her good points.
"I wish to take you to the club tomorrow, for a private gathering,"
Robert said. "I had to assure myself of your physical perfection before, er,
sharing it with my companions there." Veronica regarded him for a long
moment.
"How do you know I don't have warts on my breasts, under my bra?"
Veronica asked. Robert cleared his throat and rose. Purposefully he
walked over to her. She looked up at him with wide eyes, sure that now he
would use her last statement as an excuse to finish her disrobement. She
followed his fingers as they sailed through the air that separated them
down to her nearest bosom. The pads of his fingers came into contact
with the thin, opaque material of her bra cup. Gently he massaged the cup
over her breast with the tips of his fingers, feeling the flesh hidden
beneath. Then, seemingly satisfied, he put his hand to her other breast in
turn, and felt it through the material of her skimpy halter as well. Never
once did he actually touch her flesh.
Robert straitened himself. He had felt, through the material of the
mini bra cups, everything underneath save the bud of each of her nipples.
Though he had flexed the supple cloth that passed for her cups, causing it
to rub against her nipple buds, his fingers had not done any touching
themselves. Nonetheless the excitement of the situation and the rubbing
of the material was enough to make Veronica's nipple buds stand up very
straight. By the time Robert was finished they poked insistently at the
lissome fabric of the cups, as if to pierce them.
"And what about the rest of me?" Veronica sassed, her legs open,
easily accessible to Robert's fingers.
"Yes, I should check down below as well," Robert remarked casually.
He lowered his fingers to the vee of fabric that just managed to cover her
pubic delta. With small, limber movements of his fingers he gently
massaged the soft triangle of cottony cloth that covered her there. Then
he passed on down to the lips of her labia, tracing them atop the cloth as
well.
"I must say I need another drink after that," Robert said. He stood
straight once more. His eyes looked into Veronica's. "You are a fine,
healthy young woman," Robert complimented her. "May I refill your glass
as well?"
"Please," Veronica said. Robert took her glass from her hand. He
turned and walked to the bar. Veronica rose and followed. "You forgot my
bottom," Veronica said mischievously as she watched Robert's trim
posterior retreat before her.
"Ah yes," Robert said, catching himself in mid-stride and turning
once more to face her. But Veronica had meanwhile pirouetted on her
heels so that her backside was now presented to his eyes. She reached
behind herself and plucked at the waistband of her bikini (which in fact
crossed not at her waist but a good three inches below it). She pulled the
rear panel upward until it was contained entirely within her bottom crack.
Robert bent close, their wine glasses both balanced between the
fingers of his left hand. With his right he just skimmed the surface of
Veronica's bottom cheeks. She nearly shivered with ecstasy at his touch.
He was so gentle, so considerate, so appreciative. "Flawless," Robert
breathed in admiration of her heinie. "Absolutely flawless." Then he rose
and proceeded the rest of the way to the bar.
Veronica found herself staring deep into Robert's blue eyes as they
stood face to face by the bar a few moments later, sipping their second
glasses of wine. Robert extended a finger and curled it underneath the
tiny string of Veronica's bra where it connected with her right cup. He
lifted the cup slightly. "What is this made of?" Robert asked.
"Lycra," Veronica said. She looked down at her breast. "I think. It's
as soft as cotton, though."
"Mmm," Robert said, gulping awkwardly as he swallowed a mouthful
of wine. He let his finger slip just underneath the corner of her cup,
feeling the underside of the fabric. "But I'll bet your breasts are even
softer." The back of his finger, from his fingernail down to the first joint,
had touched her skin as he lifted the cup. He let the tensile strength of
the string gently pull his finger back now, pressing it against her breast
once more. Veronica's flesh did indeed feel very soft, yet firm, like a
brand new downy pillow. Robert could restrain himself no more. He
twisted his hand around so that it came in contact with the flesh of
Veronica's breast. His thumb cupped the flesh underneath, where her cup
did not reach, while his fingers arched over the flesh surmounting her
nipple, where the cup left off trying. Easily Robert lowered his face to
her boob. He bared his teeth, offering Veronica a moment of fright as his
clenched teeth dropped near to her erect nipple bud. Then his teeth dipped
slightly southward in their glide down to her breast, coming to rest just
beneath her perky bud.
Robert squeezed Veronica's breast even as he lifted up her right bra
cup with his teeth. He exposed her nipple. Robert extended his tongue and
touched it to the tip of her straining bud. Veronica shivered. With little
strokes of his tongue Robert began to lave the bottom half of Veronica's
perky little bud. Then his tongue began to move in a circular motion,
wetting the bud completely, soaking it more with each pass. Veronica
swooned.
Suddenly a sharp crack seared across Veronica's bottom. She was
jolted back to her senses by the unexpected pain. With frightened eyes
Veronica turned her head to see Hypatia at her back with a switch. It was
about a foot and a half in length and made of a slim, pliant reed of bamboo.
Robert kept licking her nipple.
Wordlessly Hypatia drew back the stiff reed once more. "No!"
Veronica said with a stifled gasp. WHACK! came the switch again, sending
another painful shock across her nether cheeks. Robert lifted Veronica's
other bra cup with his teeth. She looked back at him to see his tongue
lower itself to titillate this other pointed strawberry of perfection. This
time he first traced a circle over over the smooth skin of her areola. Then
his tongue surmounted her stiff, petite areola and began to work on it in
earnest.
"Robert!" Veronica cried, trying to get his attention. Then she
gritted her teeth as a third stroke of the bamboo inflicted a stinging cut
upon her bum. With nimble fingers Veronica reached back behind herself
and grasped at the ribbon of cloth that traversed her pussy lips. She
meant to pull down upon it, to release the rear panel of her bikini from her
bum cheeks. Hypatia's hand came to her wrist. "Don't ma'am," Hypatia said
in broken English. "The fabric is delicate. The switch might tear it."
"What about my bottom?" Veronica cried, unsuccessfully trying to
twist away from Robert and confront the maid. Robert caught her behind
one of her thighs with his free hand and kept her from turning about. She
felt the cold stem of his cocktail glass pressing against her flesh, for he
also held his glass in that same hand that now so easily restrained her.
"Richard, my bottom-!" Veronica began, turning back to him as he
continued his work on her nipple. She winced as another blow fell upon
her bum.
"That is enough," Robert said between flicks of his tongue, and lifted
his hand from Veronica's thigh to wave the maid away. He straightened
himself and gazed down at Veronica's nipples. There was a sheen of saliva
on them. Then Robert's eyes drifted lower. Veronica did not have to guess
what part of her anatomy now held his attention. She watched as Robert's
fingers took up position on either side of her hips. He fingered the ties of
her panties. He would undo them, she knew.
But no! With the phrase, "Forgive my lust," Robert merely pushed
downward on the ties, dropping Veronica's front panel. Her bush displayed
itself to him. Robert stared at it a moment, drinking in each little curl of
soft brown hair. Then he touched the pads of his fingers to it. Finally his
fingers slipped down to slide beneath the waistband of her undies and
explore the recesses of her labia lips. Veronica watched a moment, then
let her head fall backward in a swoon of passion. His touch caused her to
flex her bottom cheeks, which burned all the more in remembrance of the
switch. "Spread your legs more," Robert said, his hand still exploring the
entrance to her vagina. Veronica did his bidding. Robert dropped to his
knees. He drew her bikini down a little more and then extended his tongue.
He began to lave her labia lips, tickling her clitoris.
Robert's arousal left a wetness between Veronica's legs. When his
head had finally been lifted from her Venus delta he ordered her to
straighten out her bikini. As Robert watched Veronica smoothed her
panties and bra back into place, plucking them from between her bottom
cheeks, covering once more her still stiff nipples. The pain in her bottom
still made her flinch.
"Does your bottom hurt?" Robert asked compassionately.
"Of course!" Veronica winced. "Wouldn't yours if it were hit with a
switch?"
"Why, I have no idea," Robert smiled. "You'll have to try it on me
sometime."
"I don't like S&M stuff," Veronica said with doleful eyes.
"All the more reason to do it then," Robert said. "You must face new
challenges and overcome your fears."
"What do you mean by "sharing" me with your companions at your
club?" Veronica asked accusingly.
"You'll have to wait and see," Robert replied simply.
"I don't like the idea of a gang-bang," Veronica said.
"I'll note that in your records too," Robert said. "Another fear to be
overcome. You promise to work me overtime with your inhibitions."
Hypatia appeared behind Veronica with her fur coat spread wide.
"I get the feeling you're through with me for the day," Veronica said.
She rubbed her bottom with one hand as she spoke.
"Yes," Robert replied. "But I'll have more for you tomorrow."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Veronica said, a look of feigned fright
coming to her face. She trusted Robert now, but only so far.
"Fear is an important catalyst for change," Robert said.
"What shall I wear tomorrow?" Veronica asked in a meek voice.
"A parcel will arrive this afternoon," Robert replied. He stepped
forward, clasped her jutting bottom cheeks lightly with his palms, and
kissed her. "Go now, I have work to do."
Veronica, clad once more in her fur, bottom smarting and pussy wet,
turned and was escorted to the door by Hypatia. As Veronica stepped
through the doorway she turned to see Robert looking at her. She blew him
a kiss.
30
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-END OF story EMISSION