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Sweet Caress
She trembled as fingers brushed up her stockings, from calf to knee.
“Do you know who I am?”
They stroked up the inside of her thigh. She wanted to moan at the sensation.
“No,” she replied. She was supposed to answer questions.
The hand found the elastic at the top of her stocking, and the bare skin above it.
“Do you know who you are?”
“I . . .” She hesitated as her mind worked to process the query. “I am Genevieve Bascon, Founder and CEO of Bascon Software, named by Forbes Magazine as the 743rd richest person in the world.”
The digits had stopped and were stroking lazy circles between her stockings and her panties. She wanted to sink down, to make them touch her between her legs.
“No, my dear, that is who you were. Do you know who you are?”
Her mind came up empty. “No.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you who you are when you need to know.”
It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t answer. But a part of her worried.
“Do you know where you are?”
The fingers pulled away. Of its own volition, her throat issued a whine of frustration.
“No.”
There was the noise of someone moving, very close to her.
“You’re in a conference room at Leyland, Gray, and Pierpont.”
She saw the long table surrounded by leather chairs. The blinds were open to overcast skies and a view of the city.
“Do you what Leyland, Gray, and Pierpont is?”
The voice came from behind her, almost in her ear.”
It was a hard question to answer. Her thoughts spun fruitlessly for . . . a very long time. “They’re my attorneys,” she said finally.
Two hands came to rest on her shoulders. A stray thought wanted them to push her down until she was on her knees.
“Close. They’re actually the outside law firm for Bascon Software, not you personally.”
“Do you know why you are here?”
A foot pushed its way between her five inch stiletto heels.
She felt like she should know why she was here. That it was something terribly vital. “No.”
The intruding foot pressed against her own. She allowed it to spread her feet just more than shoulder width apart. Just wider than the hands that still did not force her down.
“We have very important business to conduct. Don’t worry about what it is. I’ll tell you what you need to do, when you need to do it.”
She hadn’t been worried about it, but she did now, with the small part of her mind that wasn’t thrilled by the feel of cool air ri between her legs, making her feel her . . . she struggled for the word that meant ‘between her legs.’ Making her feel moist.
“Do you always wear such a short skirt and jacket when you conduct very important business?”
She saw her reflection in the window. Or maybe she just imagined she saw her reflection, and projected an image of the outfit she was ing putting on.
“No.”
She saw herself in a parody of a business suit. Charcoal gray jacket with blue pinstripes that fell an inch short of the matching skirt that didn’t quite reach the tops of smoky thigh-high stockings. A tight white lycra shirt that left her navel exposed and displayed her large breasts. Red sandals taller than anything she ever wore.
“If I bent you over the table, everyone behind you would be able to see your panties.”
She wanted the hands to bend her over so that everyone could see her panties.
“Are they thin enough so that everyone would be able to see how wet you’re making them?”
The fabric between her legs became even wetter. “Yes.”
“You’re aroused by wearing skimpy clothing and you soak your panties at the thought of someone seeing how much it arouses you, don’t you?”
Her hips twitched.
“Yessss.”
The hands released her shoulders. Hands encircled her torso, unbuttoning the jacket.
“That means that you are a slut, don’t you think?”
The word ‘slut’ exploded in her mind. She didn’t even hear herself say, “Yes,” though she must have, because she had been asked a question. All she heard was, ‘Slut. Slut, slut, slut. Slutty slut. Slutty, slutty slut. Sluttiest slut. Slutting. Sluttiest slutting.’
Moisture overwhelmed the barrier of her panties and trickled down her leg.
The hands ascended her chest. Fingers found the hard nubs prominently poking out the tight white spandex. They cupped her breasts, fondling them gently.
“I’m sure that you not only want to be bent over, you want to be fucked. You want someone to ram a big cock up your cunt.”
Fingers
Cunt. That was the word she’d been looking for. Her cunt was an ocean of wet. Of course she wanted someone to ram it with a big cock.
“You’re going to have to wait. Once we have successfully concluded our very important business, then you might get something large shoved up your hungry twat.”
Fingertips squeezed her distended nipples. Raw, physical pleasure raced to her brain, then back down to her clitoris. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together, but the foot had pushed her legs apart.
“If you are a really good girl, and do exactly what you are told, I might even let you cum.”
Most of her mind swooned. The concept of an orgasm left it unable to think of anything else. The tiny part worried about what the important business might be started fretting about doing what you’re told.” The rest wanted to do what she was told more than anything else in the universe.
“You were the last one here. The attorneys are all ready, so we can get started.”
She saw Jane Leyland, along with two associates. They were seated at the table. Their heads lolled back and they stared at the ceiling. Their legs were hooked over the armrests, skirts around their waists, except the one junior who had worn pants, which hung off of one ankle. All three were slowly running their fingers up and down their slits, glistening with the moisture they collected.
She was jealous that they could touch themselves.
At last the hands pushed her. Disappointment filled her when it was just to guide her into a seat at the table.
“Shall we begin, ladies?”
Four sluts answered in the affirmative.
“I believe one of you has documents?”
“Yes,” Jane Leyland answered. “associate whore number one has them.” She kept stroking herself.
“associate whore number one, present the documents to the genevieveslut.”
She heard the word, and recognized that this was not who she was. It was just a description. An accurate description. A hot, wet, true description.
Wordlessly, the young blonde next to . . . surely not ‘Jane Leyland,’ but she didn’t know who . . . stood, picking up a manila folder. Her skirt slid down, around the wrist connected to the hand still stroking underneath the fabric.
associate whore number one looked so sexy, masturbating herself as she set the folder in front of the genevieveslut, whoever she was. associate whore number one’s eyes were glassy, uncomprehending of anything other than delivering papers and the urgent need in her cunt.
“Open the folder, associate whore number one.” Fingers flicked it open. “Stop playing with yourself. I want you to let the genevieveslut watch you suck your fingers clean. Imagine that they are a big cock that I have told you to suck.”
The girl brought her hand up to chest height. Rather than stick them into her mouth, she brought her mouth down to them. She bobbed her head up and down their length, allowing her soft, wet, pink tongue to slip out and swirl around them.
The genevieveslut wanted to bob her head up and down on a big cock, feeling it push into her throat and slide back out.
The hands reached down from behind her sliding down her shirt.
“I cannot abide seeing big tits . . .” Another word she should use . . . “naked and flopping around. You are to keep them covered and ed at all times, though on display, like they are now.”
The hands squeezed her disgusting big tits. It felt so good, no matter how ugly they were.
A chin rested on her shoulder. The voice’s words came wrapped in warm, wet breath. “bimbopartner, please explain this first document to the genevieveslut.” Fingers traced their way across her abdomen. “I doubt that she can read it, and I don’t want her making very important business decisions without informed consent.”
bimbopartner stared at the ceiling, still playing with her pussy, but she was loud and clear. “The first document is an authorization instructing Leyland, Gray and Pierpont to liquidate all of your holdings aside from your 78% share of Bascon Software.”
She felt a pen in her hand. Fingers played with the hem of her skirt. Distracting fingers. Not distracting enough fingers.
“Initial where it is highlighted, and sign at the bottom.”
She imagined having her bottom signed. She did as she was told, and felt the anticipation of being fucked.
“Set that aside.” She complied. “associate whore number 2, please execute the trades that have been programmed into your computer. Inform me when they have all cleared.”
The really hot redhead with slacks around one ankle sat up and used one hand to flip open her laptop. She executed keystrokes, all without needing her second hand. Not needing it for any task that wasn’t hot and wet.
The fingers fluttered along the genevieveslut’s upper thigh as they waited.
“All of the trades cleared,” associate whore number 2 announced.
“Very good. How much were the proceeds?”
There was an electric jolt as something brushed the crotch of her panties as the redhead said, “One billion, six hundred and thirteen million, eight hundred and twenty eight thousand, four hundred and seventy six dollars.”
The fingers between her legs swept away the tiny part of her brain that recoiled at the number. She’d just lost so much wealth from the sale of illiquid assets.
“What is the second document?”
Fingers pulled her panties aside, exposing her cunt. A puddle started forming on the chair.
bimbopartner answered, “This is a loan agreement between the person legally known as Genevieve Bascon and Vronsky Invesments, LLC, in the amount of one billion, five hundred million dollars in cash.”
Fingers slid along each groove between her inner and outer labia.
“Sign at the bottom.”
She did as she was told, ignoring the cry of dismay from the tiny part of her brain. The genevieveslut’s cunt gushed as she did.
“associate whore number two, please execute the loan agreement that is set up.”
The redhead, too, did as she was told.
“associate whore number one, kneel between the genevieveslut’s legs. Look very closely at her cunt, but do not touch it yet.”
She felt the blonde insert herself on the floor, and felt her warm, wet breath.
“Document number three.”
There was the lightest pressure, almost just the air currents, on her clit. She fantasized about thrusting forward against it, but sat still.
“The third document,” bimbopartner said, “is a sale agreement of the legal entity Genevieve Bascon’s 78% share of Bascon Software to Vronsky Investments, LLC for the amount of one billion, five hundred million dollars”
The tiny part of her brain panicked. Her company was worth double that. Fingers gently squeezed her clit, blowing the objections into vapor.
The fingers maintained their subtle grip on her clit. Other fingers indicated places on the document.
“Initial here, here, and here, and then sign at the bottom.”
The genevieveslut did as she was told. She thought, for a moment, that she might climax. Then the fingers pulled away from her clit. Thumbs hooked her panties. The genevieveslut lifted her hips to allow the sodden fabric to escape down her legs.
“associate whore number one, lick the genevieveslut’s inner thighs. Do not make with her cunt. Yet.”
She felt the girl’s warm, wet tongue laving her skin. She shuddered.
“bimbopartner, explain the fourth document.”
The senior lawyer did what she was told, still lost in the white ceiling and the sensation of her own fingers between her legs. “The fourth document opens an in the name of Genevieve Bascon at Mincon Bank, a private bank owned by Vronsky Invetments, LLC and chartered in the United Arab Emirates. The initial deposit in the is one billion, five hundred million dollars. In addition to Ms. Bascon, Sam Vronsky is also a signer on the and will have full access to all funds in it.”
The tiny part of her mind managed an equally tiny squeak of despair.
“Sign at the bottom.”
She endured the briefest of struggles with the tiny part of her mind. The blonde girl’s tongue washed away any doubts. She did as she was told. She needed to cum so badly.
Fingers twined in her hair, and pulled her head back so she, too, was looking at the ceiling. Lips pressed against hers, and a tongue invaded her mouth. Another warm, wet tongue.
They released her. The voice whispered in her ear, “It’s not written down anywhere, but ‘Mincon’ is short for ‘mind control.’ Isn’t that appropriate?”
She ran the phrase ‘mind control’ through her brain over and over. The genevieveslut wanted to have her mind controlled.
“associate whore number two, please execute the transfer of one billion, five hundred million dollars to the indicated .”
The fingers of one hand clicked on the keyboard.
She lifted her head. Fingers placed her panties on her head. The narrow strip of fabric that had run between her legs settled over her nose, carefully arranged so that she could still see the dwindling pile of papers in the folder.
“Inhale deeply.”
She did as she was told, and the genevieveslut’s musky fragrance of arousal penetrated her entire being.
“associate whore number one, spread the genevieveslut’s knees as far as the chair will allow.”
She felt her cunt’s exposure to the whole world. The puddle grew.
“The fifth document.”
“The fifth document is notification that the current board of directors is hereby dissolved. A new board is established with five . The Chair of the board shall be Sam Vronsky. shall include Genevieve Bascon, Jane Lindsay, Katie Mullins, and Penelope Price. The audit committee shall consist of Genevieve Bascon and Sam Vronsky.”
She vaguely ed that the last two names were those of the associates in the meeting. They seemed like they would be manipulable The tiny part of her mind felt relief that she would still hold a position of power.
“Sign at the bottom.”
She did as she was told, exulting in her position. She felt lightheaded from her own scent. Surely, she deserved to cum.
“associate whore number one, lick the outside of the genevieveslut’s labia. Do not lick her slit or touch her clit in any way.”
She felt the warm wet tongue shift. Her hips wanted to thrust as it began lapping at her cunt, but the voice hadn’t told them to move.
The voice whispered to her again. “I’m going to have you waxed, so that you look like a little girl. A submissive little girl. You want to be a submissive little girl.”
She wanted to be a submissive little girl. That was like doing what she was told, but always. A submissive little girl would get to cum.
“What is the sixth document?”
bimbopartner answered, still staring at the ceiling and stroking her cunt. “The sixth document authorizes the transfer of all properties, domiciles, vehicles, and other personal assets currently owned by Genevieve Bascon to Bascon Software.”
The tiny part of her mind pleaded that this would leave her destitute, at the mercy of Sam Vronsky, whoever that was.
“Sign at the bottom.”
The warm, wet tongue and her own fragrance demanded that she ignore such worries. She did as she was told.
Fingers pinched her nipples, electrifying her whole body.
“You’re such a good girl,” the voice whispered. “Only one more document to go.”
One more document, and then she would have done everything she had been told.
“associate whore number one, push your tongue into the genevieveslut’s cunt, as far as you can. Then lick her cunt from bottom to top. Keep doing so, but do not even graze her clit.”
Her throat whined at the sensation of a warm, wet tongue burying itself in her hot, wet cunt.
“Have you ever had your pussy eaten by another woman?”
“N . . . n . . . no,” she gasped.
“Oh, that’s right! You contributed two million dollars to Business Leaders for Decency. You talked a lot about how children needed to be protected from perversion, and that the only appropriate way to have sex was between a married man and a woman. That must mean that you want associate whore number one to stop, and for us to leave you right where you are, and tell you not to touch yourself between your legs. That is what you want, right?”
The genevieveslut panicked. “No!” she shrieked. She wanted to babble more protests, but she had already answered the question.
“Very well, then. Your desperation to behave in such a deeply immoral way brings us to the final document. bimbopartner, if you please.”
“The last document is a declaration by Genevieve Bascon that she is incompetent to run her own life, and that she should be placed under the legal guardianship of Sam Vronsky. Vronsky shall have total control over all decisions concerning the ward’s personal life, including her finances and all persons with whom she may associate. This guardianship shall run for an indefinite period of time, and cannot be ended without mutual agreement of the guardian and the ward. So long as it is in force, the ward will do as she is told.”
She would do as she was told. Always. And forever. The genevieveslut almost had an orgasm imagining it. She tried to cum imagining it. She tried so hard to cum so hard.
She failed.
“Sign at the bottom.”
She did as she was told.
“associate whore number one, stop licking and stand up.”
She went rigid as the girl did what she was told. Infinite protests formed in her mind, and died before reaching her lips.
“Soon, pet, soon,” the voice whispered. “You’re a good girl. There are just a few more things you will be told to do.”
She focused on that. Soon, the geneviveslut would be allowed to cum. Soon, the sluttiest slutting slut would get to cum.
“Stand up, and put your skirt back into place.”
She stood, and pulled her skirt down as far as it would go. For an instant, she almost felt unslutty. But the feeling of satisfaction at doing what she was told fixed that.
A foot kicked her slutty stilettos apart, wider this time. A hand pushed between her shoulder blades and bent her over the table. It forced her face to the glass, lower than her hips.
“I would, indeed, be able to see your panties if you weren’t such a slut that you weren’t wearing any. All I see is a wet, gaping, hungry fuckhole. And a second fuckhole. Do you want a big cock ramming your fuckhole?”
It was a stupid question. Of course she wanted a big cock ramming her cunt. “Yes.”
“Beg me to shove a huge dick up your slutty twat.”
Something hard nuzzled into the slippery folds of her pussy. It stroked her slit, up and down.
“Please fuck my cunt with your giant cock.” It came out as a whine.
“Does anything make a slut happier than getting fucked?”
The genevieveslut tried to push herself back against the object, but she stayed still.
“No.” She wanted to plead, but she had already answered the question.
“Very well.” The hard object found her fuckhole, and it rammed into her. Her thighs crashed into the table. It was so thick. The genevieveslut felt completely and totally filled. It almost entirely withdrew, then slammed into her again. Her entire mind lost focus on everything but the massive cock filling her wet, slutty cunt, except the tiny part that foolishly screamed that this was bad. She ignored that tiny part. She just wanted it to shut up and leave her alone to get plowed in peace.
The cock forced grunts from her throat, even though it wasn’t asking a question, really. She lost herself in the feeling of being filled.
It wasn’t until that glorious piece of meat pulled out of her and left her empty that she ed how badly she needed to cum.
“Come over here,” the voice said.
The genevieveslut stood, tottering on her stilettos. She did as she was told.
Hands settled on her shoulders, and, finally, they pushed her to her knees.
“You have so much to learn about proper posture,” the voice informed her. “But, for now, I just want you to suck my cock clean.”
She tried to do what she was told. To her surprise, the cock was purple. And it was made of a hard plastic. She tried to take it into her mouth, but the panties over her face blocked it. The genevieveslut wasn’t doing what she was told. Maybe she wouldn’t get to cum. She persisted.
The voice laughed, and the fingers pulled the fabric away from her head.
She greedily impaled her face. Its girth forced her jaw uncomfortably wide, and she started choking when she hit it with the back of her throat. But it was all good. The cock filled her . . . The genevieveslut again struggled with vocabulary. She settled on “her face’s fuckhole.” She was doing what she was told. Her taste was exactly what she had anticipated from her scent. She bobbed her head, like she had seen associate whore number one do.
Fingers in her hair pulled her head up, away from the object of her worship.
“Look at me.”
She had expected a man, but an elegant, raven haired woman sat in the chair before her. Violet eyes bored into her own, filling her as satisfyingly as the cock had. Almost. A black leather bustier set off her pale skin, as did the black leather boots that ascended to her thighs. In between was an enormous purple strap-on dildo, and a patch of hair that shone from the wetness leaking from her . . . not cunt. Sluts had cunts, not elegant ladies like this. From her sex.
She stared at it. She wanted to lick it. To taste it. To feel its slick skin on her tongue.
The fingers, still in her hair, made her look up at the lady’s face. “I am Samantha Vronsky, but to you, I am just Mistress, and that is how you will address me in private.
“Your company was perfect. A corporate structure I could topple, without pesky venture capitalists. Your habit of hiring attractive women as lawyers. Your personal assistant. She drugged you for this of course. She’s a young woman going places. Mostly into my bed, but she has other uses. And a hot, sexually repressed CEO.
“That you were a bigot was a bonus, but a fun one. Isn’t it better to be a slut, wanting to be fucked by anyone than to be a hateful harridan?”
“Yes.” The tiny part vehemently disagreed. It had liked being a bigot.
“But you don’t care about any of that any more, do you? Sluts don’t have a head for business. You’ll keep the title of CEO for now. I wouldn’t want to spook your clients or the press. But not the duties. You’ll just kneel under my desk, and satisfy your Mistress with your tongue any time I want, won’t you?”
Mistress unsnapped the belt of the strap-on, allowing better access to her sex.
She wanted that so very badly. “Yes.”
“Good girl.”
The fingers pulled her head down and pressed it into her Mistress’s sex. The voice said nothing, but she knew what she was being told to do. Her Mistress tasted heavenly, so much better than her own slut cunt. She licked everything she could find.
“You will still respond to ‘Genevieve Bascon,’ at least for now. But that’s not who you are. No, your core identity, how you think of yourself, who you are, is Sam’s pussy slave. Nothing matters as much to you as being a slave to my pussy and satisfying it.”
Nothing mattered to her as much as what she was doing at that moment.
“You want to cum, don’t you?”
The hand didn’t relinquish its grip, so her answer was mumbled into Mistress’s bush. She was rewarded with a sigh of pleasure as her lips and tongue found Mistress’s button.
“In order to cum, you need to do what you are told, don’t you?”
Again, Mistress’s sex muffled her affirmative.
“That means that your cunt, and your clit, and your mouth, and your ass can make you hot and wet and desperate to cum, but they cannot make you cum, can they?”
She tried to express her confusion about this, but it ended up sounding just like saying, “No.”
“You will cum when I tell you to cum, and only when I tell you to cum.”
She licked harder, trying to do what she’d been told.
“Cum for me, pussy slave.”
She did what she was told.