Jun 072009

I told her I wanted her to come for me. Not just for me but for ME. What I had in mind was risky but the high erotic factor of it was clouding my brain and I just wanted it. Hadda have it. I felt my greed take over.

But first….the torture.

Off and on throughout the day.

……and what if Barry, the guy across the aisle and down one, can smell your wet cunt as you…..

……i would do it if you told me to but please….please don’t make me go to……

…..Sarah, don’t you want to show off that body? I know I do, I want to show you off while…..

…..i am torn with your words and torn between wanting and not wanting….

Little bits and what-if’s peppered into the day. I grew more sadistic and suggestive as the afternoon wore on, my mix of humiliation and erotic sensual scenarios had her begging for respite. Just begging for me to allow my slut to escape to the 8th floor restroom for a quick wank. I denied her time and again and told her she needed to wait until 5pm. I wouldn’t tell her why. But oh can you just imagine…a horny girl, skirt and no panties? Hard to resist, isn’t it….

I went to her desk to get her promptly at 5. The majority of people in the office, in the building in fact, worked earlier shifts. Very few people were left and they all tended to practically run for the elevators at 4:58. I leaned down and whispered “Sarah….spread your legs for me…” She glanced around, as if I hadn’t already checked on this, and as she spread her legs I reached up her skirt. I ran my hand up the inside of her thigh and pushed it out to spread her further for me. I let my fingers trail over her mound before I slipped one finger past her lips to find that she was, quite literally, dripping wet. Thick and sticky. I roughly rubbed a finger over and around her clit for a few seconds before I pulled away. She was biting her lip to prevent herself from making a sound.

“Gather your things, Sarah, and follow me. Now.”

I took her to our favorite out-of-the-way restroom and headed to the back stall, the large handicapped one. As I entered it, she hesitated, until it was obvious that I was holding the door waiting for her to come in as well. She looked at me with such uncertainty but didn’t say anything. I hung our two bags on the back of the stall door; I stood just in front of the toilet and I had her stand facing me, her back to the door. I yanked her shirt up over her head, just the front of it, hooking it behind her neck. Her chest exposed but the shirt was still “on”.

Next, I shoved the cups of her bra down and under her tits. I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t resist giving a firm hard pinch and pull to one nipple, just to watch her struggle with staying silent despite the pain and pleasure that caught her by surprise. I then lifted the front of her full knee-length skirt and shoved the material of it up and through the band of her bra. Her cunt and tits fully exposed for me but her clothes were still on. Depraved and beautiful.

As I kept an ear out for the telltale squeak of the door (I pray they never fix that loud squeak) I sat down on the toilet and whispered her instructions with my lips to her ear, threatening to graze her sensitive neck. She was to sit on my lap. Facing me. Bring her legs up off the floor if she could manage it. I lifted my own skirt up my body so that she would be sitting on my bare skin – there was purpose in this beyond the need to feel skin to skin.

My sweet girl complied and I stared at this gorgeous filthy girl who was mine and just inches away. We had never been quite this close before, this intimate.

“Come for me, slut. Right here, and hurry up.”

The warmth radiated from her cunt, her musky scent filled my nostrils and the decadent wet sloshy sounds nearly drove me insane with lust as she furiously rubbed her clit. Her chest broke out in redness, her brow furrowed in concentration – concentrating on coming for me but also being silent. I just could not help myself as I leaned my head forward and my mouth latched onto her nipple. A small, surprised squeak slipped past her lips as I roughly sucked and bit her. Suddenly her breathing was more erratic and quick; I stopped, leaned back and watched the show about to happen.

She clenched her eyes shut, tucked her chin and bit her lower lip. Then she held her breath for a few seconds and I knew she was climaxing when her eyes opened, her head tipped back and her mouth opened wide, lips forming a big “O”. I watched her cunt and I could partially see the spasms and contractions; my favorite sight. Her feet touched the ground and she put a hand on the stall wall to steady herself as her body came down from the high of climaxing.

I waved her off me and motioned for her to fix her clothing as I fixed my own and cleaned up (the damn slut left quite a mess on my thighs!). She then made a move to reach for the toilet paper to wipe away the wetness that was no doubt running down her thighs but I stopped her. I opened the stall door, peeked around and saw no one. I shoved her out ahead of me and finally was able to speak.

“You’re going to walk to your car like that, all sodden and slutty. The breeze will dry you while also carrying your scent to those around you. Don’t hide your face; act as if nothing is amiss and see if you can tell who notices. Report back to me tomorrow morning.”

I kissed her then, hard and crazed and full of lust.

We walked out together; I wanted to make sure she didn’t secretly detour to a bathroom before exiting the building. We walked our separate ways, while I practically ran for my car. I absolutely HAD to orgasm before I was fit for driving.

Part Two

Part One

May 252009

Over the next two weeks, I slowly divulged to Sarah more and more tidbits of my kinks and my personal exposure to them. Gauging her reaction via text was difficult but manageable. Her only exposure to “my world” was the occasional blindfold for a bit of  teasing sensual foreplay. About as vanilla as a blindfold can get.

The day came when I knew I could accelerate things – there were no subtle signs, no, she opened the door and it was loud and clear. I had just fulfilled a picture request for R. I told her about it and she teasingly asked if she could see it. It was just my tits so I texted it to her phone. I didn’t hear back from her right away, in fact 10 minutes went by.

And then….

Her response is a photo of her own tits. A mimic of the picture I sent to R. Taken just then, just for me. The accompanying text read:

Your pic made my head spin and my mouth water. I hope I have returned the favor, even if in a small way.

Oh hell. It had, perhaps, a greater effect than she imagined. I knew she’d look this good but I did not anticipate the immediate carnal reaction I would have. Creamy pale and lightly freckled skin, full C-cup size, pale pink and slightly puffy areola and a little darker pink nipple. Tiny pink peaks. My clit throbbed and I subconsciously touched a finger to my lips and then slipped the finger inside my mouth a bit; my need to lick and suck her was immediate and visceral. I actually sat there for a minute and pondered if there was a way, a place, somewhere somehow I could get her naked breast and my mouth to meet pronto. Sadly nothing came to mind except my need to sate my pent-up lust – my own hand would have to do. I quickly texted a response, a casual statement of her beauty, and then I made a beeline for my favorite jerk-off restroom. I smiled at her on my way past her desk. She texted back, asking where I was going, but I didn’t answer her. Not yet.

I propped my phone up in the stall, hoping it would not fall, so that I could stare at her hands-free. Leaving both hands free for masturbating to a relatively quick orgasm in 5 minutes.

As I walked back by her desk she looked at me quizzically. Again, a near-immediate text.

Where did you go? And why are your cheeks so flushed?

And so I told her, via email. I told her that I ran off to masturbate in the restroom and all because of one little pic from her. I told her all the dirty things I wanted to do to her, all the kinky things. Things I would do with my lips and tongue and teeth; with my fingers and the palm of my hand and my fist. I told her that I wanted to claim her, make her mine if only for brief glimpses. Have her under my control.

I am stunned, speechless, and in awe of your daring. Stunned and speechless that my photo caused that reaction. Clearly I am not as brave as you, because it didn’t even occur to me to attempt that even though my reaction to your own photo was equally amazing. And even if it had been mild, the reaction caused by your words has done it. I am incredibly horny, most certainly shockingly wet and would kill for a good O right now. Everything you said, everything you want from me and to do to me, yes yes PLEASE! Just be gentle and patient, Mistress ;)

and then:

Oh god, I’m sorry, I hope I wasn’t being too cheesy and naive there. “Mistress” just flew out from my fingers and I hit ‘send” before I fully realized it.

I thought for a minute, but only a minute. I had to test her. I replied in short order:

When it is warranted, Mistress will do just fine. So you’re horny, eh? Why wait? I want you to go down to the 8th floor restroom, the one that’s in the corner of the east hallway. It is not used very often, it’s where I go. Use the handicapped stall at the very end of the row. I want you to go do what I just did. I want you to come for me. That’s an order, Sarah. No reply, just go, NOW.

After one minute, I followed her. I snuck into the restroom as quietly as possible. Practically held my breath as I slowly crept towards that last stall. I stood where I knew she couldn’t see my feet, and I listened.

I grinned and silently swooned. I heard that unmistakable sound, the wet rubbing sound, of a girl getting off.

I planted my feet where I was and leaned forward with my upper body, until one eye was looking into the crack between the door and stall wall. She had her pants down, but had only pushed her panties to the side, so my view was partially obstructed, but it was still insanely sexy. I didn’t want to break her obvious concentration so I leaned back, backed up a few feet and just waited on her. I strained my ears listening to the barely-there sounds of her fingers rubbing her swollen clit, getting faster. Then the sound of what seemed like a long exhale, probably from her holding her breath. In that exhale I swear I could hear her whisper something but I don’t know what. Despite my own recent orgasm I was aching and dying to come again.

I waited a few moments and then cleared my throat.

“Sarah, open the door, now.”

She didn’t say anything but I heard the rustle of her rearranging her clothes and then the sound of the latch opening. I pushed it open impatiently and relished the look on her face for a brief moment. It was this delicious combination of startled and embarrassed and aroused and sated and orgasm-happy yet apprehensive. I bit my lip, smirked, and in one rapid move I shoved her against the bathroom wall. I gripped the neckline of her top and pulled both it and her bra cup down in tandem and quickly, ravenously, moved my lips to her exposed nipple.

I had been wanting to do that for what felt like forever.

The moment we returned to our desks, I sent off a quick email:

From now on when I order you to masturbate in the restroom like that, you are to do it with your legs spread wide apart and panties pooled at your ankles. None of that demure crap you just pulled…..

May 172009

I had been eying her up for weeks, this enigma. Reasonably confident exterior, with a shy and easily embarrassed girl peeking out sometimes. I had witnessed the duality enough to know I could fuck with her. Sarah. Thin, pretty in a different sort of way and very attractive, C-cup tits, long straight light brown hair. A little younger than me but not by much.

After more than a month of laying the groundwork and getting things to a flirtatious and covertly dirty stage, I taught her how to communicate via email without risk of our naughty words being read.

I confessed a few things to her, one of them being my relationship with R and what we did. Her response was positive and then I laid out one more bombshell – that he wanted me to find a submissive girl to play with in the same manner. What a delicious and dangerous twist it would be to do this with a girl in my office….

I asked her, outright, if she considered herself submissive. She answered that she didn’t really know, as she had no experience in it – but the erotic stories she’s read online gave her a taste and at least knew that she wasn’t dominant.

Obviously I had to tread carefully; I could deal with that. I sent her off this email:

“Hypothetically speaking – what if, right now, I told you to go to the restroom and remove your panties? Would you do it? And what if, when you exited your stall, you found me standing there waiting for you to hand them to me? Would you do that? Would it make you blush? And then… what if…..as you stood over the sink washing your hands, I slid my hand up your skirt to your bare ass and down the crack and slipped my fingers quickly into your sticky wet cunt? Would you fight me? Or would you like it?”

A hypothetical situation, a little bit of control by me and a little bit of dominance. To be honest the short paragraph made me instantly wet. But I had to ignore the throbbing. The moment I hit ‘send’ I got up and walked down my cube row, over to her aisle and then I stood there quietly as she read my words. So engrossed that she didn’t see me there right away. I watched her lips part and her face flush to pink. A good sign. As she looked up and noticed me, she blushed a furious red throughout her face and chest.

“Oh I can wait, don’t let me interrupt you, go ahead and finish off your email there” I said nonchalantly as if I were there to just ask her a silly work question. But the hard look on my face told her that she best not argue with me, she should indeed answer that email.

She typed away for a minute, casting quick sidelong glances at me as she did so. When she finished I kept up the ruse and asked her a silly work question. I walked back to my desk and went straight for the email.

“Would I do it? Yes.

Would I hand them over? I hesitantly say Yes.

Would I fight you? The shock of it would take me by surprise and the fact that someone could walk in at any second would cause me to fight it at first. Would I like it? Again, a hesitant ‘yes’. Even as you are standing over me right now trying to embarrass me, I know deep down I’d like it no matter how it appeared on the outside.”


Just the answers I wanted to hear.

{Thank you Muse Mina, you were a big help and a good bit of inspiration for this piece}