Working Girl

She tufted at her ginger fringe before giving a sensitive pout to the mirror. An hour at the salon that morning left her with a high ponytail and bangs that took five years off of her. She couldn’t help but smile, the finest feathering of wrinkles against her freckled skin believed her three decades on this Earth. Hmph. That won’t do. But it was nothing a bit of women’s dark alchemy couldn’t fix.

Emily reached for her costumes case. She needed to be perfect; it was an important day after all. She gave one last flutter of her long and dark eyesashes in the mirror before opening her case. She batted aside a few brushes before finding what she wanted and set herself to completing her work of art. She paused with a giggle at her moment of narcissism. But it was a nervous laugh, trying to ease away her fear and tension.

As she finally packed away her case, her brow furrowed at the familiar thrum coming from outside. Brian’s ancient Corolla finally spluttered out its tired engineon the driveway. She checked her watch. He was much earlier than she had anticipated. It wasn’t a problem though, she was ready ahead of schedule and he always stopped to have a smoke outside. She quickly pulled on a button-up white blouse and a dark knee-length skirt. It was all business, covering up the muslin-thin black panties and bra underneath. That was all slut.

She made her way to the front door to greet her husband, opening it just as he dragged himself up the steps to the porch. His shoulders were slumped, his face as pale as milk. That wasn’t unusual, but it just seemed especially pronounced today. Brian looked up at her with dejected eyes and floor for a moment, unable to take another step.

“Honey? What’s wrong? Why are you home so early?”

“Em, I uh. I’m sorry Em. I got…I got fired today.”

A smile tried to waver into existence on Emily’s face, but failed, “Well, happy fifth anniversary to you too. What happened?”

Brian look around at nothing in particular in the street before turning back to Emily, “I don’t know. That work I was doing last night, that was a really important bit of code for this contract we have. We had. And uh, a big chunk of it disappeared.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.” Brian at last stepped up to the door, barely registering his wife’s sultry appearance, “Not just on the flash drive, but all the backups too. We lost the contract. Jake said it was my fault. It was one mistake too many.”

“No…no…I’ve met Jake. He wouldn’t be so harsh. He’s not like that.”

Brian gave Emily a dejected hug before wondering in to the house, almost as if in a dream, “You spoke to him for five minutes at Christmas party. Jake…Jake’s exactly like that. His way or the highway. I’m…I’m going to have a few drinks. Brandy is still behind the cookbooks, right?”

Emily’s fear and tension from earlier seemed nothing like what was growing in her heart now, but she slapped on the steelest face she could muster, “No! I mean…yes it is. But I’m not going to let this happen! We’ve barely started paying back the mortgage on this house! We’re trying to start a family.” She followed him through to the living room where he was slumped in a recliner with the brandy in one hand.

“We’ve been trying for three years. I think…I think there’s a reality we need to face there.” He took a big swing from the bottle. Emily ignored his comment.

“It’s never a good time to lose a job. But this is the worst. Businesses are closing up all over town. I’m going to go talk with Jake. There’s nothing to lose and everything to gain, right?”

#

Emily gripped the Corolla’s steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. She took a deep breath and released her hands, stretching out her fingers. She stared at her sanguine nail poison. She gave another giggle. Her fingers were shaking. At last she found the measure to open the car door, but it took her another moment to stepout and look at the imposing building.

Situated at the end of a long concrete pathway in a perfectly kept emerald green lawn was the campus of Zenith Solutions, Brian’s former workplace. A spraying seven-structure indulgence of the much too wealthy owner, Jake Carlyle. Emily scranched up her mouth. It was going to be a long walk to his office, and even longer one back to the car.

She made her way to his office, guided by her experience of a drunk office party in December. An office party she would swear that more than one person had taken advantage of her state and gave her general D-cups some manual exploration. It took all of her willpower to smooth the smile that crept on her lips at the hazard memory. Not all of her body was so easily controlled though. On many occasions since that night she found her toes curling in excitement at the recovery of it all. Brian was not getting fired.

It was fifteen minutes into lunch, and the offices were near deserded. The few Sisyphean souls still at their desks were glued to their screens, and didn’t notice the firey haired crumpet walking through their fluorescent-lit halls. Soon enough she came to the doorway to the assistant’s foyer. The assistant was, like everyone else, fixed on the computer screen. Emily hesitated, she hadn’t thought what she might say to this gatekeeper. She stepped back from the open doorway and puzzled about it for a moment, but it seemed to be her lucky day. The assistant soon breezed passed her, nose stuck in a folder and had disappeared down the hallway.

Emily made her move. As quickly and quietly as she could in her very impractical black high heels, she crossed the foyer and opened the door to Jake’s office. Without thinking, her eyes were lowered as she crossed the threshold.

She slowly raised her eyes along the maroon carpet, soft and thick as lambswool. The office, spacious enough to house a dozen staff, was dominated by great, dark mahogany desk, littered with a few papers. A person could comfortably lay upon it and have room to roll around. Behind the desk was the man himself, seated in a plus black leather chair, as tall and broad as he was.

His eyes were on her from the moment she stepped inside. Hazel brown and sharp and cold as a hawk’s. His black hair, peppered with a few white streaks, was coiffed in a slightly ragged side parting. His short, neighbor bear cut along the sharp edges of his lantern jaw. Emily’s own eyes hung on his perfectly tailored suit. Black as midnight, it hugged his form tightly, rounding over his solidly built muscles.

“You do not have an appointment.” His jaw muscles flinched in announcement. His voice was as hard as stone. Her knees suddenly felt weak.

“No, Jake…Mister Carlyle…”

“If you do not have an appointment then you do not have permission to enter.”

“Y-you fired my husband this morning.” Her voice falsetered to a whisper. His eyes bored into her, his silvery penwhipping about in his fingers.

“Sit.” He indicated to a small and uncomfortable looking seat with his pen. Annoyance dripping from every word. Emily scuttled over with her head bowed and obediently sat down, hands clapped in her lap. His eyes never left her, they barely seemed to blink. She cringed at his stare, suddenly feeling awfully helpless. She knew what was just underneath her business Attire. Her feet were wobbly and vulnerable in such high-heeled shoes, shoes she had not had practice wearing since the anniversary last year. “Your husband, at his best, is an adequate programmer.”

“Mister Carlyle…”

“He is a dime a dozen. I can have his cubicle filled by the weekend. Keeping him or replacing him is nothing to me.”

“Please Mister…”

“But today he was not at his best. Today he cost me, cost this company and every worker here, a three-hundred-thousand-dollar contract.” Emily frozen, she knew it was a costly mistake, but not quite that costly. “Whether it was negligence, incompetence, or wilful sabotage, I don’t care. He is gone. What kind of lobotomized chimp does not make a single backup of their work?”

“Mister Carlyle, please, he’s worked hard for you for so many years! How many nights has he worked from home? I’ve honestly lost count.”

“In that regard alone, he was a stalwart employee. But he had to do so simply because he could not keep up with the rest of his team. This is all besides the point. Do you have the three-hundred-thousand dollars to repay me?”

Once again, she found her fingers were shaking again and she didn’t know if she wanted to cry or giggle. This was the gambit now. “I don’t have that kind of money, but I am certain I can compensate you in some other manner. We must be able to come to some sort of an agreement.” His hawkish eyes didn’t move in the slightest.

“I do not have patience for vague suggestions. Say what you are going to say or get out.”

Her heart leaves into her throat.She had not anticipated that he’d react like that. The darker parts of her imagination that had played the scenario out expected this to be much easier. Throwing subtlety to the wind and with shaking hands, she unbuttoned the top of her blouse.

“Are you hot? Would you like the air conditioner turned on?”

Emily froze save for her shaking finger, paused on the next button. Somehow, she finally saw Through his stony face, whether through his tone or some micro-expression, she realized he was toying with her, and he was enjoying it. Emily shook her head slightly, and released the next button. Her plump, creamy breasts tumbled out of their confinement, kept in check by the thinnest of bras. It seemed a miracle such wispy material could hold them back without ripping. She slowly brought her hands back down into her lap, and sat there for a long silent moment so exposed. It took everything in her to hold his gaze.

At last he looked away as he pulled his iPad towards him, giving it a few practiced swipes and presses. “I hope you were not expecting to blackmail me with such an offer.”

Her breath quickly, breasts fluttering up and down nearly as fast as her heart. Had she was rejected? “N-no.”

His eyes flicked up at her, fingers paused over the tablet. “Do you have any electronic devices on you? Recorders, phones, et cetera?”

“M-my phone.” She tapped at her pockets, before realizing that in her nervous state she had forgotten it in the car. “No.”

A few more swipes, “If you do, you may find that they fail to function anymore. The magic of technology.” Another press on the tablet, and behind her the door locked itself with a click. “What are you offering me, specifically.”

“I-I um. Well, whatever you want.” She gave out a tattered breath. “We need this. It’s more important than anything else in the world.”

“This is clearly your first time doing this. A list of do’s and don’ts is usually…helpful.”

“This is not yours?” He answered with the slightest of smiles as he moved his iPad into one of the desk drawers. “L-like I said. Whatever you want. Anything you want. I-I don’t have a job and Brian-“

“You might come to regret those words.”

“Emily.” She said, by way of belated introduction.

“Whore.”

Emily blinked and shook her head, her cheeks flushing red. She felt like she had been slapped. “Excuse me?”

“You sit there with your tits out, selling your body for a paycheque. Is that not the very definition of a whore?” She lowered her eyes, shame burning in her chest. And yet…and yet…she found her heart racing. She found her innermost thighs feeling damp.

“Yes.” She finally managed to whisper out, “I am a whore.”

“You are whatever I Say you are.” She nodded again, eyes cast down at her painted nails. “Now let’s start with you asking very nicely for Brian’s job back.”

“Could he please-“

“No.” A crooked smile on his lips, “Beg. Get on your knees andbeg from the floor.”

Emily carefully got of the chair and lowered herself to her knees, setting back on her heels. Quite the task given her highly impractical footwear. “Please Mister-“

“Sir.” He corrected.

“Please sir. My husband needs his job back.”

“Forehead to the floor. I said ‘beg’, not ‘state an obvious fact’.”

Emily slipped her palms Along the soft carpet until her forehead touched the floor, her rump presenting itself as she did so. She brought her hands together as though in prayer, “Please sir. Please give my husband his job back. He’s a fool but a dedicated one. I’m a whore but a desperate one. I’ll do anything to prove to you how much we need it.”

“I can barely hear you from over there.” She could hear the grin his voice, “Crawl around here, whore. Low. I want to see those big tits of yours scraping the floor.”

Emily took a deep breath, moved around the desk, keeping her arms bent and stretching out her limbs, her nipples audiblerubbing along the thick carpet. Her toes curled at every pull along the ground. At last she came around to his side of the desk. He turned in his chair, his brilliantly shining leather shoes directly in front of her.

“Forehead to the floor.” As she obeyed, the tip of his shoes touched her head. “What are you?”

“Whatever you wish me to be, sir.”

Again, she could hear his smile, “You learn quickly. Remove your skirt. Do not bring your head off the ground.”

A simple enough command, but it was quite difficult to maintain her posture at the same time. She could feel her entire core getting a workout as she unclipped the wrap-around skirt from her waist. As she pulled it aside, the cool office air kissed her bared skin.

“Hands behind your back. Stay just like that.” She gave a tiny murmur of effort, silently thanking her Pilates and yoga instructors. “You are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“N-no sir.”

“Bullshit. I can smell your heat from here. You’retelling me that if I reach between your legs there won’t be a river flowing?” He leaned forward and began to reach.

“I-I’m wet, sir.” Her cheeses were on fire, but finally found the courage to confess, “I lied sir. I’m sorry. I am enjoying this.”

“Sit up, eyes down, hands behind your back.” She obeyed. There was no hiding how furiously she was blushing. No hiding the sheen of sweat that formed despite the cool air. There was no hiding her excited anticipation for what was yet to come. “Remove your top.” She quickly pulled away at the remaining buttons and stripped off the blouse.

Jake sat back in his chair. From the periphery of her vision she should see the growing bulge between his legs. He must have a good seven or eight inches in there! Christ, some men really have Everything.

She could feel his eyes running over her, inspecting every inch of her. She honestly could not tell if she loved it or wanted to run away screaming. Why not both? She told. “Before we go any further, I do have a few important matters to deal with. Get under the desk, whore.”

As large as the desk was, the space underneath still felt as confining as a cage. Double so when he wheeled his chair closer. His hands, large and veiny with the thickening of a veteran weightlifter, unzipped his trousers and pulled out his thick, fat cock. Still yet to come fully erect, the damn sausage unfurled itself onto Emily’s face. She could feel his pulse through it, throbbing on her face.

“While I am busy, you keep that wet and warm for me.” Keeping her hands meekly behind her back as previously commanded, she guided the cock into her mouth with her tongue. His musk filled her nostrils, an earthy scent. An addictive scent that told some primary part of her brain that she was doing a good thing. This is how you get the approving smile, the pleasure stroke of the head. She heard the drawer open again as he took out his tablet, and the tapping and swimming began again.

She pulled her head back slowly, relishing the texture of the cock as it ran along her tongue, of the sensing of it growing in her mouth with every pound of his powerful heart.

“Stop!” He barked. Emily froze, her body clenching to the sudden rush of fear. “I did not say suck. You will suck when I tell you to suck, you stupid whore.”

She gingerly nodded with the cock at the tip of her tongue. She slid back down and held as much of the meat in her mouth as she could possibly handle. It was an impressive amount of cock. Many a desperate and lonely night with a dildo had given her all sorts of appropriate practice.

Through his cock, she could feel every shift of his balance, every twist in the chair. Her eyes flared wide when she realized his dick was still engorging. It really was eight inches at the very least, never mind the girl! Her jaw was beginning to stretch to its limits, and she realized that she swallowed more than she could chew. He was certainly larger than her association of rubber toys at home. The WhoreMaster 5000 had advertised that it would make horses blush, but even that enhusiastic preparation was insufficient.

She let out a muffled cought as the tip reached towards the back of her throat. She wanted to pull, even a little to relieve herself, but the way he had barked at her a few minutes ago for moving had left her weak at the knees. She was unable, and indeed, unwilling to disobey. She cought again, and felt a tear at each eye brim over and run down her cheeks, tracking with it her thick, black mascara. It repeated her determination. It would attest to her earnest resolve.

At last his cock stopped growing, at the point where she had not one millimetre left to give. The increasing dampness on her cheeks told her she was doing well. She was being a good girl. Yet her mind could not stop imagining what overpowering sensings she would have when it finally forced its way into her pussy.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally wheeled back in his chair, his cock pulling free from Emily’s mouth with an audible pop and a stream of juice stretching between tip and moist, crisis lips. She could not help but admire the log of meat between his legs, well lit now that it was out from under the desk, standing at attention triumphantly.

“Get out, and stand there, facing the wall.” He pointed off to the side of the desk. Emily docilely obeyed, keeping her hands behind her back and crawling out awkwardly on her knees. She stood up, back straight but head bowed, feeling his eyes behind her. She felt his inspection breaking down and judging every square inch of her. She was utterly exposed save her whisper-thin panties and unsteady high-heels. “Do you go to the gym?” He asked.

She nodded, starkly aware of the sensing of her own red hair brushing against her naked back. “Yes sir. Five times a week.”

“I can tell.” She could hear him scar contentedly, “Remove your underwear.”This was her first hesitation with Jake. “Now.” He did not yell, but there was a gruff reverberation, a primeval growl, that spoke of the caveman dragging his lusted home by the hair, of the chief claiming his harem, of the king seizing the conquered queen. It cut through all thought, all veneers of civilization, and dominated the very core of one. Her heart quivered at the sound, and with all hesitance evaporated, she hooked her thumbs into the panties and pulled them down to her ankles so quickly that it seemed to be instinctive.

“Bend forward, and spread your ass cheats.” Oh God, was this it? Was he about slide that meat-monster into her? What if he decided on a more…unconventional hole? She was hardly inexperienced in that matter, but she had never dared anything so large before. Nonetheless, she could not bring herself to Resist. She spread her cheeks, the cool air slipping into the last unexposed crevice of her body. As she did so, she felt a drama of warm moisture rundown her inner thigh.

Jake took an achingly long minute to admire her ass. The muscle gave it a firm, heart-shaped roundness, while a thin cladding of fat gave it that feminine softness. The tan-lines around her ass delineated her public and private flesh. The darker skin saw by a thousand others at the pool or at the gym, but the smooth, creamy flesh reserved for a select few. Down the centre of it all, her holes trembled keenly for him. A cruel smile created his face. Not quite yet.