Named and Shamed (3 page)

'Does a vibrator count, Sir?'

Mark slammed his head against the backrest of his chair. She was serious. He knew full well that she'd had no partners, because he paid for the security which guarded the apartment block which housed all of his submissives, and they were not allowed callers of any kind except for family members. When they were out and about they were watched and any fraternisation of a sexual nature would guarantee instant dismissal. The idea was to keep them hot and horny at all times, but the thought that not one of the dignitaries, clients or visitors that were allowed the use of his staff had picked her, made him somewhat perplexed. She was a beautiful woman, so why had no one required her services before now?

'No, it does not.' He closed his eyes and rubbed them with the tips of his fingertips. Fine, he'd go gentle, but she was still getting a taste of his belt. He'd been looking forward to that part.

The skirt moved higher and higher. The further the skirt peeled back, the harder it became to breathe. He noticed the disobedient woman was wearing panties, which she'd pay for later, and the only thing it did was fan the flames.

'Were you aware that I require my submissives to forgo their underwear at all times when in the confines of my office?' He generally let them get away with wearing a bra, especially if they had a generous-sized cleavage, but there were zero exceptions to the 'no panties' rule.

'Yes.'

At least she was honest. Now that her fingertips had stopped moving he admired the whole expanse of her tanned backside and noted that she either sunbathed 'au natural' or used one of the tanning tubes in the beauty salon that all his 'ladies' had an account with.

He stood up and bent his large frame over hers. 'Place your hands beside your head.' His long arms, still encased in his suit jacket, helped guide them into place. 'And what made you think you could flaunt my rules?' He bent down to whisper the sentence in her ear and noted that her body trembled. For the second time he wondered if she would be wet for him. He would soon find out.

Marianna made an audible gulp before she answered his question. He noted, with some amusement, the two bright spots of colour that bloomed upon her cheeks. It took a moment for her to reply. 'After a year of not being called upon, I figured no one would mind too much if I wore panties.'

It was a reasonable answer, but it didn't excuse her behaviour in the least. 'Do I, or do I not pay an awful lot of money to have you at my beck and call, Marianna?'

'Yes, Sir, you do.' Marianna's bank account had a ridiculous sum in it to testify to the fact.

'I have very few rules in this office. I wonder if a disobedient little slut such as yourself would be able to remember them all?'

She remained silent, but then, he hadn't expected anything else. Placing a palm underneath her body, just below her left breast, he smiled when he felt for her heartbeat. It was easy enough to detect; the thing was trying to make a break for it. 'Calm down, Marianna. I'm not an ogre.' His fingers caressed each little ridge of her ribcage and he smiled when her heart appeared to pound harder. So, at least she found him attractive. 'What were those rules again, my dear?' His voice was that of a master seducer's and dripped with hunger.

'Sir. All submissives are required to be clean shaven, wear no panties and not indulge in any sexual activities unless prior permission from yourself or staff has been given, Sir.'

'Where did you obtain permission for the use of your vibrator?' Mark was curious. He'd never spoken to the girl on any matter remotely sexual. She would be aware that if she was caught in her rooms bringing herself to orgasm she would be liable for instant dismissal, as per her contract. All of the rooms in each submissive's apartment had cameras, and although not monitored 24/7, it was usually a good enough deterrent for them to behave.

'I asked your secretary, Sir.'

'You asked Cecilia?' This time his jaw dropped. Cecilia was his private secretary. She was approaching her sixtieth birthday and had been with him right from the start, over fifteen years ago when he had first dipped his toes into the world of commerce. Whilst she knew about his sexually deviant nature, she chose to distance herself to that side of his dealings and few of his submissives would dare to approach her with anything more than a perfunctory request. Her stern glance and vicious-looking shoulder pads usually kept the girls at arms' length.

'Yes.'

'What did she say?'

Marianna paused for a second. 'She took pity on me because I'm a brunette. She did say not to bother her with "these type of requests" too often, though.'

Mark laughed. 'I'll bet she did.' That woman would have some great tales to tell when she retired, had she not signed an NDA, of course. His curiosity had been piqued yet again though. 'How many times did you ask her?'

'Just the once; I couldn't summon enough courage to ask her again.'

'You mean to tell me, that in the past eighteen months you've had precisely one orgasm?' Mark could not believe what he was hearing. She simply nodded in response. 'Have you missed sex, Marianna?'

'Oh yes, Sir.' There was no doubt that her answer was in the affirmative bracket.

'Well, on the plus side I guess you've got a lot of joyful catching up to do.' Spanning a hand across her cheek, ensuring her head would stay on the table, he entwined a lock of her beautiful chestnut hair on his index finger and then tugged at it sharply. Her eyes became luminous with need. 'Do you like pain, Marianna? Would it arouse you to suffer a little, under my hand?'

'Yes Sir. I would like that.' It was a standard response; whether true or not remained to be seen. The girl had been expertly voice trained; her breathy little whisper gave nothing away. He'd see how good she really was, when they tested the theory in a few minutes. If she could school her features under the cruel bite of his belt she'd be a bloody good actress.

'Have you broken any more of my rules, by any chance?' He pressed his lips to the pulse point on her neck and lathed at the area with his tongue. Thud, thud, thud went the traitorous beat.

'No, Sir.'

'Let's check, shall we?' He stood up and let his right hand trace a leisurely path down the side of her body until he reached her ass. He then let two fingers walk down the valley of her backside until the soft peaks denied him further access. He scooped his fingers under the white lace of her panties and pulled roughly. The flimsy elastic didn't stand a chance. Ripping the offensive material away from her body and discarding the remains on the floor, he cupped her sex. When his fingers brushed the smooth expanse of her soft, shaven pussy, she jumped up like she'd been shot. She was wet all right. Letting his fingers arch into the fluid heat of her body, his efforts were rewarded when he felt a trickle of liquid slide down his finger. She was aroused, ripe and oh-so ready for him. He curved both his middle and index finger into a crook shape and began to torment her clit. Marianna was certainly due an orgasm, but seeing as how she hadn't had one in months, a few more minutes here and there probably wouldn't hurt. He stopped fingering her and laughed at the little petulant moan she gave him.

'Kneel before me.' Her body slithered down the table and she was on her hands and knees quickly. He expected the woman thought she was down there for a blowjob. She was in for a shock. 'Remove my belt, Marianna, using nothing more than your teeth and then beg to feel its vengeance.' Yes, there was the delightful gaze of disbelief in her eyes. He had been right.

A few minutes later, when her teeth were still working to free the tight leather, he wished he had asked to be blown. Having her hot breath torment the sensitive skin of his cock was a torture all of its own. If he ended up staining his suit it would serve him right.

When she finally freed his belt it was not a moment too soon. The image of her grasping the leather between her teeth, with its tails poking from each side of her mouth, would stay with him for some time to come.

'Back over the table, Marianna, and start begging.'

Glorious

'Well? Is she any good?'

'She sucks,' replied Beauty, her lips forming a moue of disdain.

'Yes, but is she any good?' asked the redhead on Jenny's chest.

'Ha-ha, very funny, Red.'

Jenny had been enduring such comments for the past ten minutes. Her particular favourite was when her technique had been likened to 'that of a wet fish having an epileptic fit'. Not one to be defeated easily, she realised that Beauty wasn't going to get off her face until she had completed her task. It quickly became obvious that having an additional X chromosome meant that the bearer of said chromosome was a lot more difficult to please sexually. If Jenny had a penis in front of her, she could have practically done anything with it and the male in question would have slathered at her feet. This was not so with women. Realising she could end up being smothered for the foreseeable future if she didn't improve her game, she started to experiment. Starting with the 'windscreen wiper' she let her tongue swing from side to side. No luck there. Then she tried an up and down flicking motion, which was marginally more successful as Beauty actually managed a single groan. Jenny tried several different tongue motions: soft, hard, pointed and palpating, to no better effect. Then she tried circling the little nub of the clitoris, but the elusive moan was nowhere to be found. Running out of ideas she tried sucking it, as if it were the tiniest of cocks, but still... nothing. In desperation she finally tried writing the alphabet, which was something she'd read in a men's magazine somewhere and voila! These men knew what they were talking about. Beauty was screaming her head off before she'd reached the letter 'O'.

Having the taste of a woman in her mouth wasn't at all unpleasant, Jenny mused. She rather liked the musky, earthy scent that coated her lips and tongue. They were deliciously soft too; soft and squishy, unlike the hard, salty maleness of a cock. If she were being entirely honest, she had become rather aroused at the thought of making another woman come. Without doubt she still preferred men, but women had a charm all of their own. Unfortunately, before she had a chance to gloat upon her victory and give herself a congratulatory thump on the back, CD had taken Beauty's place.

To Jenny's extreme chagrin the alphabet trick did not work on CD, even when she progressed with numbers which entered the double digit format. Swearing under her breath at the complete fickleness of womankind, she started at the beginning again.

By the tenth pony she was really starting to get the hang of things. A quick trial and error session at the beginning revealed what was going to work and then, yeah baby, she dived in for the kill. It worked like a dream and while she didn't want to boast, she suspected she could have been a lesbian in a previous life. It was almost a shame she was getting rescued tomorrow. There was probably a lot of fun to be had here.

As number fourteen, and the final pony of the evening's proceedings, knelt over her face and thrust her loins onto Jenny's mouth, she realised she had become rather wet. The egg felt heavenly inside her and it wouldn't take too much to tip her body over the edge. Fourteen was screaming her head off in record time. Applause filtered through the room.

'Can you get off me now?' rasped Jenny, whose tongue felt like it had just swum ten miles in a lake of treacle.

'Only if you give me your solemn promise that you will remain on the floor until we have finished with you.' CD gave her a stern look.

Jenny nodded. It wasn't as if she could go anywhere, and if they wanted to use their tongues on her, so much the better. She'd hoped they'd forgotten about the no-orgasm rule, as she was revved up and ready to roar.

CD stroked the length of her moist pink tongue with a long finger and smiled. 'Ponies, you may have fun but do not let her...' the rest of the words were lost in the rustle of hay and the rush of crawling hooves.

Though the bodies moved, the ponies didn't trust her to remain still. Hands pinned her down from every angle and stray, leather-clad legs rubbed and slithered across her body. The prickly straw underneath her was all but forgotten as her senses were bombarded from every angle. She arched, sobbed, pleaded and begged. They were animals and wild in their need for a sweetly perfumed, tasty morsel of human-horseflesh. Jenny felt as if she were being eaten alive. Teeth sunk into the most delicate parts of her body, nails scraped and tongues dragged across every inch of her skin. All of her newfound tricks were replayed and with much greater precision. The windscreen, the alphabet, the clit-sucking; all of these and more were employed to better effect, with one single difference. They obeyed CD to the letter. No matter how excruciatingly close she came to release, it was always one terrible hairbreadth away.

An hour later, after several very articulate tongues had performed all manner of stunts upon her body, Jenny began pleading with every fibre of her being.

'Please let me. Someone please let me... I need to... I've got to... I want to...' and then, 'I'll do anything you tell me to, just please let me come!' Jenny's body writhed and undulated as it begged for mercy. 'You can't leave me like this!' The trainee pony girl was sobbing, so acute was her pain and frustration.

The stable erupted in laughter again. 'Right, hands off her; time to settle down for the night,' ordered CD, and this was not the response Jenny wanted to hear. She began pleading as if her life depended on it.

'Can't we just take the egg out?' Jenny's sobs had grown so fierce she'd begun hiccupping. Her mittened hands flailed helplessly above her head.

'No we can't,' replied CD. 'I know you can't see them, but when you wake up you'll notice this place is wired with more cameras than a Hollywood movie set. They have infra-red capabilities and we're closely watched at all times. There are plenty of people who'll pay good money to watch naked pony girls frolicking in the dark.'

'Oh God, how many people are watching us?' Jenny was horrified. If they were recording her, how easy would it be for the footage to get into the wrong hands and be used against her?