Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are
under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave
now. If you're and curious, this is not the place to get the
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories.
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so we
can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain,
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.
The Little Lost We need your help. Little Bo Agency has lost its
secretaries and doesn't know where to find them. Could one of them be
you? Temporary assignment. Top pay.
Spawn of the devil! They have an address, they have a fax
machine; why can't something be done about them? I know they are in
cahoots with this Jennings character, why won't someone stop them?
I felt something was wrong when I went to the agency for the
interview, but I wasn't sure I wasn't projecting my own fear of
unfamiliar situations onto them. I was looking at the assignments as
therapy first and extra income second. I thought that being put in new
situations would help me become familiar and therefore not afraid of
them. And the short assignments would let me step away and process
the experience before I put myself in the situation again.
I was assigned to a Mr. Jennings the next day. It was rather
quick for me, but the guy made it sound like I was so qualified he
could send me out that quick. I let the gratification of being (he said)
special overshadow my misgivings and I didn't argue further.
Of course I had to go. That was the first point in all of this. I
wouldn't want to go anywhere, so I would force myself to keep this
appointment. That would be progress.
When I got there, I was glad I had shaken off my misgivings.
Miss Stocker was an absolute doll and Mr. Jennings was a cuddly
teddy bear. At least that was what I thought at first. They welcomed
me and made me feel at home. I guess I was so lost in the ego
gratification that I didn't see anything strange about the amount of time
they were devoting to me - who was supposed to be there to help them
work.
That all changed when Jennings put his hand on my chests.
That is a very big issue with me. They, themselves, are very large and
that is where most of my problems began. They always brought me
unwanted attention and made me retreat deeper into my shell.
When he touched them as we sat on the couch in his office, I
was instantly in a panic. It wasn't something that could be passed off as
an accidental brush. He reached over and cupped my left chest, lifted it
and squeezed. He was feeling them up- no mistake about that.
"Mr. Jennings!" I screeched and tried to jump off the couch.
But I was trapped. He and Stocker held me so I couldn't escape
and he looked at me with surprise.
"Please don't do that," I begged Jennings, "I don't like to have
them touched."
He just grinned at Stocker and then said, "My dear, that is a sin.
It is the height of priggishness to keep such a fine pair of whomper-
stompers to yourself. You owe it to the world to let them worship that
set."
Whomper-stompers? I knew several nasty names for them, but
I had never heard that one. If I hadn't been so scared, I would have
laughed. As it was, I tried to shrink back into the sofa as Jennings
continued his explorations of my chests.
I guess I didn't believe that they would go any farther. I guess I
thought Stocker would be on my side if he tried something. I know I
was wrong now. Stocker held my hands down when I tried to stop
Jennings from opening my blouse. He didn't stop there, reaching back
and opening my brassiere at the same time. Then he had them out and
he was toying with them as I sat helpless and sobbed.
I could have saved my tears. I would need them later.
Stocker kept at my clothes as he rubbed and fondled me until
she had me naked to the waist. It was then I found out what I had
gotten into. Jennings told me to get up and pose for him topless. When
I refused, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch. He held
it up and showed me the braided leather fob and then whipped the fob
down across my chest.
My traitor nipples had gotten hard with his handling and now
the one was the centerpiece of a bright welt streaking down across
the globe to its pert little head. It burnt like fire. He raised the fob to
strike again and I tried to get away from him.
"Oh, you'll dance, but the lesson for arguing is a stripe apiece,"
Jennings said as he administered the second welt to the other chest.
I tried to follow his instructions, I really did, but I was always
wrong. I felt the humiliation keenly, but I was trying to give him the
show that he wanted. Finally he had Stocker strip to the waist and
demonstrate.
It was obscene, but I had retreated within myself long ago. I
struck the poses, felt my chests sway, but I was somewhere else. They
brought me back to the office with a snap when Stocker opened my
skirt and pulled it and everything underneath to my ankles.
"What are you doing now?" I wailed
"You don't think I pay $250 for someone to sit on my sofa and
chat, do you?" Jennings said as he stood and took off his pants.
I fought to get away. Stocker lost her grip on me and I tried to
run, but my clothes around my ankes tripped me. I remember swinging
wildly and then falling. I must have hit my head on the corner of the
desk.
When I came to, Stocker was sitting by my head with my hands
trapped between her calves and thighs and Jennings was sitting on my
stomach- his male part touching my chests.
"Good- wouldn't want you to miss this," Jennings said when he
noticed I was awake.
He put his part between my chests and Stocker lifted them up
to squeeze him between them. Then he made mating movements back
and forth like he was coupling with them. And that was only the
beginning.
"Escaping is two apiece, but this is a second offense," Jennings
laughed, brandishing the fob, "I say we triple it and give her one
suspended- that would be five. Don't worry I'll try to make an attractive
pattern on your tits."
He didn't stop coupling with my chests to beat them. And he
didn't give them to me all right away. It was whack and then maybe
whack, whack as he dragged the strokes out. As he hit me, his organ
grew and throbbed. It was a throbbing that seemed to mock the
throbbing of the stripes with which he was marking me.
I thought he was going to continue until he on me. I
have been told of that possibility many times, but he finished whipping
my chests and he and Stocker pulled me off the floor. I was pulled to
my knees and Jennings pushed his thing in my face.
"Look at that. Look at how hard you've got me. I think you
want to kiss him for the compliment," he said, pushing it at my mouth.
I had never had one of those things that close to my face, let
alone touch one with my mouth. I was afraid of the new experience. I
was also afraid of him whipping me again and I became even more
afraid that I would kiss him poorly and he would whip me anyway.
He wiped those musings away by pushing the thing into my
mouth. I was horrified and confused. I was at a height of emotion that
made me worshipfully grateful to Stocker when she said, "Suck it nice
now."
At least that told me what was expected. I tried and he didn't hit
me. He moved the thing in and out of my mouth, but he didn't hit me.
Then they picked me up and sprawled me across the desk.
Stocker climbed up to sit on my shoulders and I felt Jennings move up
behind me. I knew what was coming and I begged Jennings to stop.
"Please- please don't, I'm a virgin!" I pleaded.
"I bet you are," chuckled Jennings and put his part against my
place down there.
He didn't get it right in. He pushed a few times and them
stopped. He moved back and I thought for a moment that he had
relented. Then he licked me down there and stood up again. This time
he opened me and thrust in. It took a couple of mighty heaves for him
to complete his violation of me, but he persisted until he had ruined
me.
"Jesus," he said as he struggled to push into me, "I think she
really is a virgin."
Not that it stopped him. He ravaged me like an in heat.
It was useless to struggle against Stocker's weight, so I had to take it.
There was no good to the feeling, contrary to the propaganda I had
been fed by wanting to do this very thing. He kept ripping and
tearing and battering my bleeding body with a frightening intensity.
Then he humiliated me the most as I felt him pollute me with
warm and salty stinging fluid. They let me up then, but they didn't let
me go.
"How does it feel to finally be a grown-up after all these
years?" Jennings crowed.
My words of hate welled up and choked me into only sobbing
in answer. I didn't think my censure would change anything and I still
feared more whipping on my now very sensitive chests. But even my
noisy sobbing seemed to displease Jennings and I thought I was to be
whipped again anyway.
Instead, he sat in his chair and Stocker took over. She was still
sitting on the desk and she turned me to face her. Then she began to
kiss my chests. Other than the fact it was my chests, I found nothing
disgusting about a woman kissing and fondling me in that way.
Obviously neither did Jennings. He was touching himself as he
watched us and he had a gleam in his eye.
I was a fool to be lulled by this treatment, but I was. Stocker's
lips and tongue were soothing to my wounds and I was feeling better
about what had happened. I was even beginning to like what Stocker
was doing when Jennings interrupted us.
"Very good, Pam, now bring her over here," he said to Stocker
as he sat stroking his erect member.
She pulled me down on my knees across the throbbing
thing from herself and then pulled our heads together so our mouths
touched around Jennings' part. She demonstrated moving her mouth
around on Jennings and then yanked my hair to make me duplicate her
movements. He only required us to do this for a few moments before
he motioned for Stocker to take me away.
I was crestfallen to find myself sprawled over the desk again,
Stocker poised over me. She wasn't sitting on me this time. She was
kneeling on the desk over me, supporting herself with her hands on my
hips. I supposed that was to remind me that she could trap me if I tried
to move, but I was wrong. As Jennings approached my rear again, she
exploded all my conceptions of the world.
At first I simple couldn't believe it. She couldn't be putting her
tongue where I went to the bathroom. Then I nearly vomited. She was
working her tongue inside the tiny puckered hole. There was no
mistaking that. I just couldn't think after that. I couldn't get any thought
started past the fact that another human being had put her tongue in that
place.
Jennings I could believe anything about. It was no less
disgusting when he put his thing to that same place, but it wasn't
something I would have put past him after he raped me the first time.
He seemed to like to go where no had gone before, and in this
case, where no has a right to be.
Pressing on my hips held me just as effectively as sitting on my
shoulders and had the additional benefit (to them) of holding my rear
open. Actually, I think that was a good thing for me as well. It was
traumatic enough for Jennings to be putting his part where he was
putting it without imagining it being any harder for him to force his
way in.
My panic had lain shallow beneath the surface and now broke
back out in sobs as he pushed and heaved and slowly forced his was
into me. He was about halfway through the process when he broke
down.
"Jesus Christ! This isn't even any fun anymore," he bellowed
and pulled away from me.
"You're a pitiful excuse, I must say," he thundered at me,
"Pam, show this useless slut how a real woman takes it."
Stocker got down and Jennings dragged me off the desk and
down onto my rump in front of it. Stocker straddled me and my face
was caught between their legs looking at her bottom parts. Then he did
to her what he had been doing to me.
In an obtuse and perverted way it was fascinating. The way the
muscle stretched around his thing and the way it seemed to it
as he pushed it in. It didn't seem like he was getting it inside her any
faster than he had with me, but Stocker was a whole lot calmer than I
had been. The only change I noticed was that her breathing became
quicker and more shallow.
Then he was all the way in and he started moving. It was a little
stimulating, I confess. Something about the rhythm and his thing
appearing and disappearing was stimulating. But I still shuddered to
think he meant it to be me on the receiving end.
At the end he got so brutal it scared me to watch. It was very,
very loud that close to their thighs meeting and I couldn't begin to
imagine how hard his thing was slamming into Stocker. Then it was
over. I saw Stocker ooze several disgusting secretions from that place
and then Jennings pulled me away.
I sprawled back from the force of the yank and Jennings
sneered down at me.
"All that meat and no potatoes," he said shaking his head and
reaching in his coat.
"Here, for the privilege of being first," he said and dropped a
$100 on my chest, "Now get dressed and use the rest of the day
thinking about how fucked up you are."
I wasted no time getting away and, in a sense, I did exactly
what Jennings wanted with the rest of my day- I saw my counselor.
Needless to say, I'll never go back, but I can't help thinking
about going back and what Jennings and Stocker might do with me if I
returned.
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