School for Nurses (7 page)

‘I don't...' Penny protested weakly.

‘You will kneel,' her husband said. ‘She's seen it all before.'

‘Not her, I haven't,' Caroline pointed out. ‘She's my special friend.'

‘I can't, not in front of...' Penny felt light-headed. She was still blushing from the memory of Caroline's hands lingering on her legs, which had made her feel so strange...

‘Would you rather I had you kneel before Caroline? She's the one you wanted to demonstrate obedience to. Or perhaps we should wake Susan and teach
her
a lesson.'

‘I'm fine...' Susan mumbled, without opening her eyes.

Penny walked past the smiling Caroline, and nearly felt her legs give way in front of Andrew; she had to put her hands on his knees to steady herself.

‘You know what to do,' he said.

She glanced down at the bulge clearly visible beneath his robe that told her his cock was already almost fully erect.

Caroline sat down beside Andrew again and leaned against his shoulder, bringing her face down close to the knot in his belt. ‘Show me what you can do, Penny,' she said, and leered at her as she licked her lips in anticipation.

Penny swallowed hard thinking of her suitcase upstairs and of her life in this house. Then she slipped her hands into her husband's dressing gown, found his hard-on, pulled it out gently, and put her lips to it as her friend giggled and reached out to stroke her hair.

Andrew looked on patiently, his hand coming to rest on Caroline's thigh as he said, ‘Good girl... good girl...' while Penny worked her mouth up and down on his tool, her head bobbing in his lap. Then she gave a small, choked cry when he suddenly gripped the back of her head with one hand and pushed her face down hard over him as he came, pumping his white-hot cum down her throat and making her swallow every last drop. Finally he let her go, but only to punish her for taking so long to get the pearls.

Bent naked over a chair, Penny bit her lip as Andrew dangled the string of pearls from one hand while gripping the back of her neck with the other to hold her down. Then he brought the rope of pearls up in a slow arc, and each one stung painfully into her buttocks as he lashed her with it. She was stunned to discover how like a whip a string of pearls could feel, how like a long and cruelly knobbed whip raising a string of red welts across her exposed bottom and making her squeal.

‘If you don't take your strokes like a good girl,' he warned, ‘we'll have to start all over again, only this time we'll do it outside on the pavement. Or you could, of course, leave with Caroline and never return to this house again.'

Penny closed her eyes and stifled a moan as she waited for the rope of pearls to bite her bare cheeks again.

After he had finished punishing her with the pearls, her husband made her crouch down on the floor, the infamous necklace around her neck, her cheek pressed against the carpet and her elbows chaffing against it as her bottom was pummelled, regularly and repeatedly, by a ten-inch dildo wielded with great enthusiasm by her friend, Caroline, who was naked now except for the strap-on she always carried around in her purse, just in case she got lucky. Caroline thought this was a great way to express friendship as well as obedience. Andrew stood by watching, and Susan was no longer asleep.

She was sitting up straight, her dress bunched around her waist while she eagerly stroked her clitoris and slipped two fingers up into her pussy, which was getting unbelievably hot watching her friend being banged from behind by her other friend. She was looking forward to her wedding tomorrow even more now, and the oath she would take to love, honour and obey her husband, no matter what.

 

 

 

Erica Johnson was a large-breasted blonde with a contrastingly thin waste and a mane of long golden curls she tossed to great effect in the presence of men, and since she worked in television, it could be said she was always in the presence of men and performing for them.

At the moment she was fiddling with one of the buttons of her blouse, which showed off the beautiful breasts she seldom imprisoned in a bra. She was riding in the glass elevator all the way to the top of the Television Tower building, and she was nervous because the boss had asked to see her. This was not in itself an unusual occurrence; he had asked to see her before. She had been to see Chairman Mathews dozens of times with at least two buttons undone on her blouse, a ploy that always worked when she had to deal with difficult men. But this time was different.

Erica had a reputation for trouble. When you had breasts the size of hers and a pretty smile and gorgeous hair and you liked to laugh, well, people just looked at you. She had found the perfect job for herself as a sports broadcaster and a sports show hostess. The trouble was that Erica enjoyed being looked at off camera as well. She liked it so much that she often wound up in the newspapers, for one reason or other. And she had the unfortunate habit of getting involved with men who liked to tell afterwards, or who were not very discreet. One of these men had taken her to a topless beach, where a photographer had secretly snapped their picture, and the following morning her naked breasts graced the front page of several tabloids in all their glory. Millions of people had gazed at them over milk and cornflakes and jammy toast. Which was why she was a little nervous this time about going to see Chairman Mathews. She was just a bit concerned that, this time, she had gone too far. Not that it was her fault, she told herself as she flicked open one more button on her white blouse, but people never understood that. Naturally, he could not fire her, but she freed one more button just in case. It was the last button she could undo and still sport a professional aura rather than look like a total slut.

She was very popular, she reminded herself in the mirror just outside the chairman's door. Men liked her, women envied her, and all that had to be worth something. She wiped a stray blonde curl out of her eye with a manicured finger, and knocked quietly on the double mahogany doors.

There was no answer.

She knocked again, and almost immediately one of the doors swung in on silent hinges. No one seemed to be in the suite, with its stunning view of the city below. No one was at the secretary's desk just outside the chairman's office. No one was here at the nerve centre of commercial television where the most important phone, the phone that warned of any technical emergencies or news breaking stories, was hung.

Erica walked up to the desk feeling a little panicked. She had expected to plead for her job, not to be so unimportant as to be stood up.

‘Ah, Erica,' a voice said from somewhere behind her, and she recognised it as Chairman Mathews's. Apparently, it had come from a bathroom tucked discretely away between the oak panelling and bookshelves lining the suite's chestnut walls. As she turned, a section of mock bookcase swung open and revealed her boss with his bald head and his slight paunch contained in a blue shirt that matched his striking eyes. And Erica could not believe her own eyes, because the chairman was on the toilet. But then, as she stared at him in horror, she realised that he was not actually on the toilet, meaning he was not using it for its intended purpose. His shining black trousers were crumpled round his ankles and he was sitting on the lid of the toilet while his secretary, an older woman with her hair gathered up in a bun at the nape of her neck, knelt on the floor before him with his penis buried in her mouth.

The chairman was being sucked off!

‘Won't be a minute, Erica,' he said. ‘Come over here, I'd like you to see something.'

In a daze, Erica approached the doorway of the tiny bathroom. Her heavy breasts swayed back and forth inside her blouse as she walked, but she was scarcely aware of them any more. She paused just outside the doorway as the chairman grabbed hold of his secretary's head, and guided it into moving more swiftly up and down his erection. ‘You see, Erica... look at me while I'm speaking to you,' he demanded.

She looked at him. Now he was caressing his secretary's tightly contained hair. The woman didn't look up, she was much too busy, and Erica couldn't tell if she minded being seen like this. She certainly didn't seem to mind what she was doing.

‘Look at me,' the chairman repeated.

Erica forced herself to meet his eyes. They were a chilling blue that made her shiver somewhere deep in her belly, and she realised that was why she didn't like looking at him. The way he made her feel wouldn't help her get her way during negotiations.

‘You see, Erica, this is private business. What Miss Brown is doing to me - suck Miss Brown, suck, that's good - is private. We all do this sort of thing behind closed doors... I said, look at me, Erica.'

Her eyes had wandered again; she found it intensely humiliating having to look at his cock disappearing in and out of the kneeling woman's mouth. She wondered why that was, why she minded what the other woman was doing. But he was talking again, and it was important she listen to what he was saying, that she not let the sight of his rigid, gleaming shaft distract her...

‘We do it in private, Erica, whereas you do it in print.' Suddenly, he reached up and grabbed one side of her half open blouse.

Automatically Erica moved forward to prevent him for tearing the fine material and fully exposing her breasts, and before she knew it, she found herself bending over his face, between him and his secretary's bobbing head.

‘Do you like doing things in public, Erica?' he asked sternly.

‘No Mr... I mean, Chairman Mathews, no...' she stammered, surreptitiously trying to get his grip off her blouse while politely trying to look back into his hypnotic eyes. Her hand brushed ineffectually at his sleeve.

‘Do not touch me, Erica, not unless you want to touch me where
she's
touching me. Would you like to help out?'

‘No!' Erica quickly dropped her hand as embarrassment added an attractive colour to her cheeks no make-up artist could ever emulate. Bent over him like this, her breasts were practically hanging out of her blouse in plain view of his face as she looked away from his penetrating stare again.

‘Look at me, Erica,' he commanded.

She looked at him.

His other hand got a firmer grip on the back of his secretary's head, and he literally shoved her face down into his lap. The woman gave a muffled cry as he pulled her head back up by her tight bun, and then pushed it deep into his crotch again. His expression grew oddly stiff as he looked into Erica's wide eyes, but he made no sound as he came, there was only the muffled gulping of Miss Brown's frantic swallowing as Chairman Mathews pumped his cum into her demure little mouth and down her obedient throat. Meanwhile, Erica swallowed dryly as she watched, but her pussy was getting wetter by the second.

Then Chairman Mathews lifted Miss Brown's head off his still partially erect penis, and let her collapse back onto her efficient tweed skirt as he stood up. ‘You like things public, don't you, Erica?'

‘No,' she said quickly. More than ever, she had no idea where to look. His still hard prick bobbed up and down before him when he moved, a drop of sperm quivering on its cleft head, and she suffered the terrifying impression that he wanted
her
to lick it off. She felt dizzy suppressing the urge to sink willingly to her knees before it as she tried to keep a firm grip on the conversation.

‘On your knees, Erica.'

‘Sir,' she said weakly, ‘I can explain about the photographs...'

‘Do you want to keep working here, Erica?'

‘Yes, sir,' she answered miserably.

‘Then on your knees.'

‘I have a contract...' she began, but she knew perfectly well that he could break any contract she had signed. Feeling two inches tall, she sank to her knees before him so his cock hung in the air directly in front of her face. The secretary did not look at her, and she too kept her eyes away from the other woman.

‘Erica, pull my trousers up for me, please,' said the chairman.

Trying not to look at his prick as she did so, Erica pulled his sleek black trousers up for him, and then looked up as he zipped them closed just over her head.

‘Erica, you don't understand boundaries. You don't understand boundaries because you have no experience of them. I will have to teach you what boundaries mean.'

Chairman Mathews was still talking, and Erica was still listening, only now she was naked. He had asked her to take her blouse off. Then he had asked her to take her skirt off as well. She had protested, despite a certain thrill at the thought of being seen by him, the same thrill that always, somehow, put her in the position to be caught by photographers doing something most people didn't get caught doing. This thrill was going to be the death of her...

‘Do you want me to see only as much of you as the rest of the world has seen on the front page of the newspaper?' Chairman Mathews enquired acidly. ‘If I didn't think you felt closer to me than you do to these anonymous readers, Erica, I would have to fire you, as it would be a pointed insult. However, if I felt there was some bond between us, a special intimacy that made you want to share something with me you haven't shown the whole world,' he sighed meaningfully, ‘well, then, I might have an interest in keeping you around.'