Chapter 7
King seemed very pleased with himself. He had been promoted once already and had received a raise. Now he was looking at one more such prospect. It all depended on how well Anita did for him with the vice president who had expressed an interest in her. Bullay had called King to tell him all about his talk with Bardeley and how Bullay and Bardeley both would appreciate it if King could make sure that Anita cooperated. There would be a lot in it for her.
"The old bastard won't do it himself," King said to no one but the walls. "He's leaving it to me. Oh well, if it can help me, why then shouldn't it come from me?"
There was a knock on the door. That was Anita. Maybe she thought the reason he had sent for her was that he needed to have his lob sucked. Well, that wasn't the reason. Not at all. Though it wouldn't be bad to have his lob sucked. She had been getting so much experience lately.
He looked around the office at the new plaster statue of Winged Victory that he had bought and put there. The replica of ancient Greece looked good in the modern he-man decor that he liked.
"Come in," he said, his eyes hooding. She stepped into the office and looked at him, then dropped her eyes as she wiggled to the chair in front of his desk. She had become accomplished at making men drool at the sight of her.
Crossing her legs, letting that skirt ride up those smooth, bronzed thighs, she smiled seductively. "Anything I can help you with, sir?" Her eyes dropped to his crotch.
He felt a blast of erotic fire cross his balls and cock. But King forced that now down now. He said, "I want to talk to you about that bookkeeping job you've been asking me about."
Her eyes brightened, she sat up, her heart beat faster. "You mean there's an opening?"
He lifted a finger, waved it about in the air, then dropped it to his lap and rubbed his chin with his other hand. "There might be," he said, dropping this hand to.
"What do you mean, there might be?"
"Just what I said. There's room for a girl with brains and ass in this world. I pointed that out to you the first time I introduced you to the new opportunities in your life."
"That you did. Now what have I got to do and who do I do it with?" She looked at him sharply as she said this. He grinned, his face a pleasant mask, hiding his next move.
"The man who'd like to meet you and who'd like to have the pleasure of your company is named Peter Bardeley."
"The vice president?" Her eyebrows rose.
He nodded up-down, once. "His assistant, a Mr. James Dunahoe will talk with you about what your duties are and whether you can handle this bookkeeping job and the other activities that go along with it." He put the emphasis on the word other and his mouth broke into a wide smile at the end of it; the corners traveling up along his face.
Her smile was grim. "I can handle the bookkeeping. I'm trained in that respect."
"That's not the only thing you'll have to be trained in, my dear girl."
"I'm also trained in other respects," she said, her smile now gone. "I'm sure you experienced some of that not so long ago. You should be a good judge."
He pursed his lips. "I'll admit I was satisfied. But then I'm just junior league compared to Mr. Bardeley, when it comes to taste. He's a man who's been around. People like to please him. I'm sure he has a tougher shell to pierce."
She wanted to answer that he was junior league in just about everything, but instead said, "I can pierce it. Just let me at him."
King looked at his watch. "Your wish will come true. In about five minutes from now you're to meet Mr. James Dunahoe, who will interview you and see if you're what they're looking for. It's on the ninth floor of the executive office wing."
"I know where it is," she said, standing suddenly. "You might have called me earlier in the day and let me prepare."
"Honey, if you're not ready now you never will be." With his words ringing in her ears, she left. She took a small vial of perfume from her bag and sprayed herself. She looked at herself in a wall mirror and got ready to be as sexy and sultry as possible. They were calling her at the end of the business day. Things were bound to happen.
They didn't want anyone around when things got going, she thought as she rode up in the elevator to the ninth floor. There was a ping as the stainless steel doors slid into the wall to reveal a brief carpeted hall and a man sitting in shirtsleeves behind a desk at the end.
He looked up as she came from the elevator, walking seductively, her hips swinging like a pendulum, a smile of harlotry on her lips. James Dunahoe swallowed and felt his cock swell.
She stopped in front of his desk. "I'm Anita Dumont. May I sit down please?"
"Yes, sure," he stammered, pointing to the seat in front of his desk. She sat down and crossed her legs and gave him one long sultry stare. She was sure the first impression had been good, very, very good.
James Dunahoe stared at Anita Dumont and licked his lips. She sat in the chair in front of his desk, her legs crossed, her knees dull black satin under the smooth frosted sheen of her new, tight and sexy nylons. He kept dropping his hand below the level of his desk to rub his cock, forgetting that his desk had no front to prevent her from seeing his hand. The desk was the standard wooden top with two sets of drawers on either side and room for his feet.
Anita licked her lips, pretending disinterest, looking at corners of the room, while all along feeling heartbeats of desire inside and fear of the great unknown that lay ahead.
Her legs were crossed to accent her wide thighs and she added to the tension along her smooth and wide and shapely fleshy upper thighs to force the skirt to ride up another two inches. She was aware that his eyes followed her skirt up and came to rest again and again in the area between her legs, which she made sure would peek through. She was wise enough not to have crossed her thighs all the way.
Dunahoe felt a shiver of pleasure pass through him. He tried to hold it in, but couldn't. She could hear the breath rasp from his nose and open mouth and had to fight the faint smile working it's way across her lips.
Those lips were plump, painted with pink lipstick and tempting enough to make Dunahoe imagine her blowing him and those wonderful, plump, smooth, painted lips riding up and down his slicked, wet cock, while he strained to sustain the pleasure and not blast off into her mouth.
While staring at the corners of the room, she kept, casting glances at him; admiring his lean, handsome face, the thin, aquiline nose, the alert gray eyes and the nice graying around the temples and sideburns. He looked very distinguished. Black hair and graying sideburns became him. She wondered how his cock looked and how big his balls were and how they tasted. The taste of a man's balls were important to her.
Dunahoe stared at the fat beaver beneath the shadowed blue of her panties swelling around it. He rubbed at his cock some more. What a piece, he was thinking, wishing he had her for himself. He would take her home to his house at Grosse Pointe and fuck her silly. Now that he had his own house all to himself since the divorce he could bring women home. Getting them was the problem. When he didn't have the house free to himself he'd had the women and no place, except for a motel to bring them to. Now, it was the other way around. It was always like that.
Remembering what he was to do and why she was here, he cleared his throat and began. "I called you here, Miss Dumont..."
"Why not call me Anita," she asked him with a broad smile?
His cock really tingled.
"Well, Anita, the reason you're here is about that bookkeeping job you've been interested in."
Her face brightened. She sat forward, but at the last moment realized this might obstruct the view to her pussy and sat back. She made her face into a mask and waited for Dunahoe to go on.
"I've been talking with Mr. Peter Bardeley about this." Her head throbbed. Bardeley was the vice president in charge of hiring and firing; an important man to suck up to. And thinking about sucking she realized her reputation might have preceded her. And this was just what might be required of her. Well, if it had to be it had to be. If a girl was going to give it away she would give it away where it counted, on the job. She had been fucked enough by life. Now she was going to get fucked again, but for the rewards it would bring. Shivering within, she waited for Dunahoe to go on.
His face grew wooden as he began to outline the job and what would be required. He went through the hours and the different things needed from each bookkeeper. Then he got down to the essentials.
"The pay is three-fifty a week."
"That high, sir. I wasn't aware it went that high."
"We-e-ll, ordinarily it doesn't. But this is a special position we're discussing and I'm wondering if you're the right girl."
"I am sir, I am," she said, spreading her legs a bit farther apart. His gaze dipped, his cock hardened. He could feel it lengthen and move down his leg.
"This is an important position, where no mistakes are to be made or tolerated." His voice hardened. "And it is open only to the woman who can meet it's demands."
"I can, sir." Her smile had grown sultrier. She licked her lips and smiled so that her teeth showed; white as only white teeth can be in a dark face.
"And it is a position which demands punishment for any mistakes which are made."
"I won't make any mistakes sir. And I'm ready to pay for any mistakes I do make."
"Mr. Bardeley is quite particular. He is paying this high salary because he wants the right bookkeeper."
"I understand. I understand," she repeated, her smile growing still more.
"He wants no mistakes and since money alone can't insure that he'll enforce personal punishment to make sure no mistakes are made. And the high salary is to insure that the right bookkeeper will agree to the punishments meted out for not doing the job right on some days."
"And what may those punishments be, sir?"
Dunahoe hesitated, his heart beating, his head throbbing, his eyes bright sparkles of fire. He nervously licked at his lips and eyed her body up and down, wishing he were in his bosses shoes right then. Boy, could he give her a workout.
"In order to insure that you do this important, high paying work with the right attitude and minimum of mistakes Mr. Bardeley wants to give you a whipping each time you commit a major error in your work."
Now that it was out, he hurried on, almost afraid to stop, because he simply might not be able to go on once he did stop.
"You will be informed by phone on the day when he wants you to come to his office. You will come to his office as the workday ends, just as you have come to my office as the workday ended. You will then listen to the charges against you and will then prepare yourself for the whipping he will deliver. Do you understand?"
He stopped, his heart beating more, his brain about to burst from the bone encasing it. Sparkles flew before his eyes. His throat was shut. He expected her to rise up, screaming, ranting, cursing him out. He had told Mr. Bardeley he was not sure this might work. He remembered the hard, hot light in Mr. Bardeley's eyes and the way he spoke; his voice tight and high.
"She'll do it, Jimmy. I can feel it." He had tapped his crotch to indicate where he felt it. Well, Dunahoe had not been so sure. He sat and waited for her to speak; speechless himself.
Anita said nothing for a moment. Her face was flushed. Two burning spots were evident on each cheek; made harder to see by the darkness of her skin.
So this was it. This was what that big, hot-cocked honkey wanted. For that she would get her three-fifty a week. For that, she would get the bookkeeping job she wanted and needed; the money that would make her financially independent, take her out of the Detroit ghetto into a nicer black neighborhood on the edges of the city.
She grinned. "The request is unusual, but I can't say it isn't fair. Bosses are so demanding these days and I guess that makes for a better worker. Yes, I can see that's fair."
Dunahoe, turned a pale red. His cock sprang up and almost ripped a hole in his pants. A shivered passed up and down his body. He fought the urge to close his eyes and inhale deeply, instead he just blinked rapidly, up and down.
"You understand, that ahm-a-a, this won't be a simple spanking?"
"I understand, sir. A flogging. The way the English do it?"
"Yes, I-I-I think so. It won't be with his hand."
"I didn't expect that. But I'm hoping it won't be a cat-o-nine tails. That's too barbaric and should have gone out with, "Mutiny On The Bounty."
"No, no," he said, shaking his head from side-to-side, the red in his cheeks growing, the glow in his eyes considerably brighter.
"It'll be a birch switch. Narrow, about three feet long, flexible. It cuts more than stings. Not so bad, really. Just designed to teach a lesson and not hurt."
"Oh, I can't be hurt that easily, sir. I'm a big girl. If you haven't noticed yet."
He picked up a pencil and began playing with it. Shaking his head up and down, he muttered, "I've noticed. Yes, I have."
Then he dropped the pencil and raised a finger in the air. "One more thing." He hesitated, not knowing how to begin. "This birching, it won't be done across the back."
"I'm glad," she said, the smile still on her lips. "A lady's back is so sensitive. I was hoping it would be across the buttocks. They're so much more fleshy, ample."
"Yes, it'll be across the buttocks." Again, he stopped, then started and went on. "Naturally, for it to be a true birching and to teach you the lesson you have coming it can't be across a dress or slacks or anything, because the material would absorb the cuts and defeat the entire purpose of the punishment. It would have to be um, naked." He looked down for a second.
"Naturally, sir," she answered, not loosing her cool. He looked back up with a bit of surprise. She was still with them, still willing. This was a much hotter bitch than he'd imagined. Bardeley certainly had her figured to the T. She really wanted that job and that dough.
Still keeping that smile she said, "I didn't expect otherwise. I mean, if a lady has a whipping coming, is there any other way than with her skirts up, panties down and buttocks exposed for a good dozen or twenty, so that she doesn't make the same mistake again?"
"Yes, that's what I say," Dunahoe told her, his face growing still redder. Then he picked up the pencil. "One more thing. Just to show that you're not talking and won't chicken out when the time comes..."
"Anita Dumont knows the ropes, sir. She doesn't chicken out. When I give my word, I keep my word. I'm sure that when I'm called in to pay for my mistakes I'll be grown-up enough to admit them and take what I've got coming. You can be sure."
"I believe that," he said, bowing his head forward three inches, then straightening it up again. "But we have to be sure." He began to fiddle with his tie.
"Would you be ready to demonstrate that, Miss Dumont, I mean Anita? Demonstrate it right now? Come with me to Mr. Bardeley's office and take what you have coming? It wouldn't even be a demonstration in the pure sense. You have been making some bookkeeping mistakes and I say it's time to impress upon you that such mistakes can't be made when you take on your full responsibilities."
He gulped. She allowed her smile to grow a bit wider, her heart really pounding like mad. "Of course, sir. If you feel a demonstration is necessary and a lesson whipping should be administered for past mistakes, I agree. After all, if I'm going to do well I should have the proper attitude before I start. And this way I'll have the proper attitude."
Dunahoe smiled widely. "Yes, yes, you do have the proper attitude. I wish more young ladies were like that."
Thinking to herself, Anita said, "I'll bet you do you horny, ass hungry turkey and smalltime sadist. I'm going to get my cheeks warmed because some white cock needs hardening. His wife can't do a good enough job. So he's going to get it from hot, black meat."
"The fact that I am that way should help me in the company," she added; her face still covered by a bland smile.
"Oh, one more thing," he said, then paused. "You know, I guess you know," he said, gesturing with one hand before letting it drop, "that sometimes when a man is punishing a woman the sight of her wriggling behind may make him..."
"Yes, Mr. Dunahoe?"
"Well, it may make him horny. And it would be a shame to leave him like that. If, after the punishment, you could take the discomfort away, it would be deeply appreciated in many ways. Such an attitude, I am sure, would do wonders for your promotion in the company and would result in good marks on your company record."
"I understand those things sir." She let her eyelids sink down to cover her eyes a moment; feigning shame. Then her lids lifted and she looked him direct in the eyes.
"I'll be more than glad to help Mr. Bardeley over his temporary problem."
"Very good, very good," Donahue said; dry washing his hands, shaking his head up and down, hunching his shoulders. To her he looked like a vulture.
"There is one more thing though, Anita. Mr. Bardeley has this special way he likes to be satisfied. Especially after he has used his birch to help guide an errant employee onto the straight and narrow, so to speak. He enjoys a good session of Greek."
"Why Mr. Donahue, I enjoy Greek too. What a coincidence. I am sure I'll be able to do a good job of taking care of Mr. Bardeley's problem in the proper manner. I have a tight, hot, very satisfying rectum. And I am quite adept at using it with skill and dexterity. There is no art to these things, you know."
"Yes, I have heard," he replied, still dry washing his hands. "And," he added, "I hope you're not one of those girls who complains that it hurts and just lets the man put the head and maybe a bit of the stem in?"
"Oh, no sir. I have an educated and experienced rectum. When I let a gentleman take me, he gets it in all the way. And by all the way I mean right up to the gills."
Donahue's eyes did back flips. "I think we had better go up and see Mr. Bardeley."
"Yes, I think we had better. I'm anxious to get this started and to show just what talents I do have."
"I'm sure they're considerable," he said. Then, as he began to rise he remembered his hardon and sat back down. He took a few deep breaths and waited for his erection to fade before he stood, doing so slowly.
Anita suppressed a smile and watched him rise ever so slowly. Then he extended a hand for her to walk ahead of him. She did, adding to the already mean wiggle of her ass. Dunahoe watched and willed his cock to stop rising once more.
He led her to the small, three-person elevator, which led up to the vice presidential office. They rode up, the elevator came to a stop and the stainless steel doors parted, then sank into the wall.
Sitting behind a large desk with a glass top, a green blotter and many papers, was a man in a white shirt, red tie with silver patterns and no suit jacket. His hair was silvery gray, his face rugged and weathered, like that of an outdoorsman, which he wasn't. He had steel hard, blue eyes, which sent a shiver of fear and a feeling of submissiveness through her.
He was smoking a cigarette, waiting, a bit of a red flush to the dark tan of his face, a tan not produced by the still weak spring sun. It spelled Florida, Houston, New Mexico or California.
There was a long, narrow, rounded, white wood stick lying across his desk to one side. She did not have to ask what that was for. She felt her heartbeat increasing and her pulse rate follow along. She became painfully aware of her ass and just what she would now have to do, indeed, be asked to do.
She tried to guess how old Bardeley was. She figured fifty-five; thirty years her senior. Donahue was thirty-five. That she knew for a fact. When he had been her age she had been going from sixth into seventh grade. When he had been eighteen she had been eight. When he had been fifteen; probably riding around in cars, drinking, getting his first ass, she had been entering kindergarten. And Bardeley had already been older than Dunahoe. Who knew how many asses he had spanked or fucked by then or how demanding he would be now; the El Exigente of asshole connoisseurs. There were such men. They looked at a girl's asshole and the way she used it and knew how good her technique was and could guess within five screws either way how many times she had been taken up the shit chute.
Bardeley stood. He extended a hand. "How do you do, Miss Dumont." It was all so pleasant and businesslike.
"Please call me Anita."
"Please call me, sir."
She smiled. "I call all men, sir." Her eyes dropped down. She found his cock hardening already. Men were the same. You gave them pleasure, they turned to putty in your hands. They took care of your needs as you serviced them and they helped you get places in the world at the same time. Anita was proving that a woman's machinery could be useful for more than looking at. Those foolish girls who were saving it for some day were merely letting it lie fallow. Like money in a mattress instead of in a bank in a high interest bearing account.
"I gather James told you how things go here." He said that staring at Dunahoe, who stood, all nervous and red faced and waited to see what would happen. She glanced back at Dunahoe with a grin and saw the picture windows behind him and the view of Detroit. The lake, the skyscrapers, the crumbling brownstone inner city slums, the roads, elevated highways, parks, lakes, cars moving along. All of them out there unaware of what was about to go on here. Just as she was unaware of them.
She wondered if any of those curious skyscraper watchers with binoculars, was watching this skyscraper, then with a smile realized what a treat he would get to see.
"How do we go about these things," she asked, without answering his question? "I mean, do we wait till Mr. Dunahoe leaves or what?"
"We don't need any ceremony," Bardeley said, picking up the birch, slapping it lightly against his palm, staring beyond her at Dunahoe with a smile.
"We will do it in front of James here. The reason that's so is that I want him to see how the process goes. Some day," he grinned again, "he'll have an office of his own, like this," he swept the birch in a half circle to indicate the offices belonging to him and others of his rank. No one but him and Dunahoe and Anita were there.
She watched that birch with hypnotized eyes. She felt his menace in the depths of her bowels. She wanted him badly. But she also feared him. This was a part of her that proved new and strange. And she was afraid of it.
"I also want Jim here to watch this because he'll need to take care of your transgressions, mistakes, failings, sins against the company through error or carelessness, when I'm away and not around. So he has to be here and see how things go."
"I understand." With a smile back at Dunahoe, she said, "it's important for him to know these things. You're the boss." Turning back to Bardeley, she asked, "how could I refuse?"
His face grew redder. He asked, "and you don't mind receiving discipline from Jim also?"
"I'm ready to accept discipline from Mr. Dunahoe if it will help me do a better job and ease company relations." Both men smiled broadly. This bitch was alright and would prove a good addition to the staff. If she proved as good as she looked to be and acted, then she would be worth every cent of the money they'd be paying her. Anita knew this and resolved to be as good as good could be.
"Okay," Bardeley said, "strip off. Let's see what you're made of."
Without a word or a seconds delay, she began, proving what a good addition she was to the office staff. The sound of the zipper going down, the rustle of her nylons, the swish of her dropping mini, were all the sounds to be heard in that room. She put these to the side after stepping from her things and stood there a second, stretching, accenting her muscles, her shapes, her meatiness, the sheen of the nylons across her shapely legs, and thighs, the tightness of her panties over her big, blooming ass, and the vee of her dark pubic thatch showing through the light yellow gossamer material, which only barely covered it.
She cast brief, sly glances over her shoulder to see how the others were reacting and they were reacting well. Anita said nothing and began to take off her sweater, making sure to walk back and forth as she did, so as to point out her strength and power, the movement of her flesh as she used her legs, the sway of her ass, exposed now and accented so tightly by the panties she wore.
Finally, Anita pulled the sweater over her head, mussing her lustrous curls somewhat. But she shook her head like some fine doe emerging from a mountain pool after a summer dawn bath and her hair fell back into place. All of her hair, except for two or three ringlets, which remained nicely mussed. She knew this and smiled at them, watching the simmering fire in their eyes, while painfully aware of the hardening and rises in the area of their crotches.
She wore no bra and underneath the sweater she had removed was bare skin; smooth, satiny, ebony, resilient, young. Her tits were upthrust, the nipples semi-hard in anticipation of the fun to come.
"What now," she asked; holding her arms out, away from her body?
Bardeley gripped the birch more firmly. Then he used it like a blackboard pointer. "Go and lean over that desk. The empty one. Grip the ends and hold on. Are you one of those girls who have to be tied down?"
"Nossir. I'm very gentle and docile. You can do what you have to do. I won't be any trouble."
"Excellent." He studied her again. What meat! What ass! Licking his lips nervously, he realized just what a treat he was getting.
She walked to the desk, her feet feeling like lead bricks. She again became painfully aware of the size and wiggle of her ass and how enticing it must be for them to stare at her and just what sort of payment they were going to get from using that birch across her bare cheeks. She shivered, partially in fear, partially in excitement. Her breasts heaved up and down with the sudden increase in her breathing rate. There was a tiny film of sweat across her flesh and a hum in her ears. The hum, she understood, came from the nervous tension now passing through her. The muscles across her belly fluttered with nervous nips of energy. She wondered if the rippling of her belly muscles was visible.
She was afraid to look down and see. For if she did, Anita felt her legs would turn to rubber and she would be unable to go on. That would not help in her image as a cool bitch, ready to take a good warming across her buns; looking for ways to satisfy those white, hard cocks throbbing so grandly behind her.
She reached the desk, bent forward and rested her top half across the desk; feeling her tits flatten out beneath her and the edge of the desk catch her cunt and thighs. She felt the cool wood against her flesh, almost sending a shiver of coolness along her hot and trembling meat. The desk was so strong, so solid, so unbelievably powerful when compared to quaking human flesh.
"The panties, Anita darling," Bardeley said with a laugh, "the panties. We can't have them in the way."
She laughed to herself. "Oh, sorry sir. I guess I just forget in all the excitement of undressing. I've never done this on the job before," she said, standing up. "The panties are so light I hardly felt them."
"But they are there," Bardeley said. "And they'll get in the way of the whipping."
"I wouldn't want to do that, sir," she said as she pulled the panties down to her ankles. "I want to feel the full effect and I'm sure you want me to feel the full effect."
Her words and the sight of her suddenly bared, big, black, juicy, meaty ass, made their cocks throb, their faces turn red, their tongues stick in their throats.
Smiling back at them she again took position and parted her legs, so that they made a V, spreading her ass, opening her up wide, letting them see it all. She gripped the ends of the desk with her long, elegant fingers; the polished tips like ten red spots of elongated blood against the fine, dark grained finish of the wood.
The men licked their lips and stared at the sight she had laid out for them. The hot, open, wet, hairiness of her beaver hanging down at the apex of the inverted V that her legs made. The inner flesh of her exposed cunt was pink, salmon pink. The lips were a lighter color of black, almost the color of malted milk. They were very thick and fleshy. Dunahoe could almost imagine himself sitting there on the floor; his legs out before him, his back to the desk, his mouth nibbling away at the hairy cuntflesh. He forced this thought down. It was not for now. More momentous things were about to happen.
Her ass was fantastic to say the least; two large, fleshy half globes of satiny black meat. Staring at it was enough to make a true assman's mouth water. She was good enough to make a man want to give up white women forever. When one stared at a woman like Anita Dumont one realized for the first time what the motto "Black Is Beautiful," was all about.
The fine upsweep of her back, the shoulderblades, ribs and muscles outlined by the position she had taken, were a grand topping to the sight of her ass spread so wide and tender before them. Then there was the piece de resistance. Her asshole was fully exposed by the position that Anita had assumed.
Her asshole was at the upper half of her wide ass, just above the centermark of the deep groove that contained it. Light, short black hairs grew up and down the groove and around her asshole. Bardeley was glad there were not too many hairs. He liked assholes, but not one surrounded by too much hair. Though there were men who loved hot, hairy assholes.
Her asshole was dark, malted colored, big, rounded, with an irregular outer perimeter. It was plump, the asshole ring puffed with soft flesh, the flesh cut by deep wrinkle lines that pointed inward to the slight open chink in her ass, which led to the rectum and from there the colon.
It was a big, appetizing looking asshole and just seeing it Bardeley knew he would find true asshole joy within those tight, hot bowers. He was mesmerized by all this fine meat put on display before him. So mesmerized was Bardeley, that he forgot for a moment his overwhelming letch to warm the buns and instead, walked closer to inspect the wonder of her asshole. Dunahoe also moved closer by a few steps. Anita said nothing and waited. She knew they were as amazed by her ass and body as were many men that she knew. So she stayed and let them look and touch.
Bardeley went right over and began to run a finger over her asshole, sniffing her female scent. The scent of her perfumed cunt and the higher, sharper scent of her asshole; there, so fresh and big and juicy and ready for him to use to his heart's content. She was sure, lying there, waiting for him to get on with it, that she would earn every penny of that three-fifty a week that she had been promised.
He ran a fingernail across the flesh of her puffed anal ring. He felt the flesh quiver and she felt a sharp dart run up into her ass. A good and not uncomfortable feeling.
Turning to Dunahoe he said, almost in wonder, "this is prime asshole, Jim. Prime asshole. I've got to check this girl out and see if she's as good as she looks."
"I'm better sir," she said. "But I've got a tender rectum. A woman's rectum is so soft. Please use some lubricant, maybe Vaseline."
"I'll do better," he said, going away for twenty seconds, then returning. "A true man," he said, "never goes anywhere unprepared."
He thrust a small rounded jar in front of her eyes. There was white cream in the see through glass and a label. On it, in big black block letters were two words, REAM CREAM.
"Very good, sir," she replied. "Use the product in good health."
"I intend to," he assured her, a quiver of joy in his throat.
He put the jar down and flicked the birch through the air several times to test it out. Every good whipping artist does this. The way he worked the switch told Anita this was no novice to the whipping game. Bardeley was an experienced whipsman. An artist who knew how to process an ass and manipulate a switch to make the meat sing and dance.
Indeed, Bardeley had seen more then his share of twitching, well birched asses in his time. As a bachelor he had made it a practice to spank girlfriends. When he married and his wife would not let him warm the buns for her more than once a month he began to seek out secretaries who would raise those skirts, drop those panties and lift those cheeks for a brisk half dozen with the birch or with the hand. He found call girls, divorcees eager to prove the breakup of the marriage was not their fault and that they could still bring happiness to an erect prong in many different ways. And now he had Anita. She would feel the culmination of his many years as a devoted participant in the underground ass culture.
Her ass was just marvelous, he thought to himself, as he tested the birch a few more times; building anticipation, excitement. She listened to the swishing cut of the birch through the air and could just imagine it working her ass. She listened to her heart beating so fast that it almost felt that it was within the very confines of her head. She hoped they couldn't hear her fear and excitement. She closed and opened her eyes a few times. Anita could feel the switch of that birch along her back. The air it moved about made her shiver a bit. Still, she kept the position she had taken, pressed her thick, soft lips together and waited for the birching to begin.
Bardeley still stared at her asshole. Bardeley's wife was such a bitch. She only gave him her asshole on special occasions such as Christmas and New Years. He thought fondly of how he had fucked her ass not too many months past, and this being Spring, how much longer still he would have to wait till he could fuck her ass again. The fact that it was so rare for him and that here now was a great ass to fuck made his hunger greater still.
He lifted the birch up and back now. Bardeley was through swishing it. He looked at a red faced Dunahoe and winked. Dunahoe smiled back weakly.
Then the birch swished down, coming into her right cheek at an angle with a hard thwack. The birch indented the meat, then lifted up and away. The chocolate flesh turned a slightly darker color along the line. Her cheeks trembled once, then stopped. She said not a word.
The birch came down with a second thwack across her other cheek, also indenting at an angle. She shivered slightly, but kept her position and never moved an inch. The birch lifted away and another diagonal slash darkened.
He could hardly tell, looking at her. This was a resilient woman, with a lot of meat to whip. Now that the timing was set he loosened the birch, so that it could ride around in his hand and brought it forward. It came down with a thwack as it covered her in a side to side slash that touched both buttocks.
This time she lifted her head a bit and shifted her buttocks. The birch struck again and her cheeks lifted and began a bit of a wiggle. A whoosh of air escaped her mouth. He gave her slashes five and six; one for each buttock. Now the meat wiggled and she hissed, moving her head about. Her asshole opened a bit more in shock. Bardeley had an urge to plunge in, but didn't. He held himself and gave her slash seven. Her ass really began to dance the way an ass should.
Her face was covered in sweat and wrinkled up. Her eyes were shut tight. Her mouth was open. Her teeth were sharp white slashes of bone. Her tongue darted in and out. Her head rotated as each stroke came down. Her mind traveled about in a pink and purple fizz of fire. She was mad with the thing he was doing to her. It both hurt and stung. The slashes were not vastly hard, nor were they light. They made her quiver and twist and expose private and very erotic parts of her body to the two men watching.
This both frustrated and delighted her. On one scale she was still unwilling to do what she was doing. She regarded this as a forced affront on her flesh. But on the other side of the coin she loved it. She fought it and loved it at the same time and the things she was being forced to expose and the things she was being forced to endure made her deliciously, throbbingly, excitedly hot and erotic. She wiggled more. The birching was making her hot. The sharp whistle of the cane, then the thwack and the cut and the heat radiating away from the slash into the depths of her fine and ample ass, into the hot tropics of her needing, hungering bowels, up the pinpoint had, splayed out thickness of her tits and down to the churning core of her furry cunt, made her hornier still.
The winking pink eye of her cunt slit and her downhanging beaver, as she danced, made the two men tremble. The twists and turns of her plump asshole made mouths drool and eyes water. Bardeley did not know for how long he could continue whipping that fine ass before he had to whip out his hard cock and take her tender, twitching asshole.
His hunger made his hand a bit too hard and heavy. He let her have three stings that really cut the meat. And he dropped them down to get the low undersides of her buttocks. The heaviest, thickest part of the ass and the most sensitive portion of the female buttocks. He let her have one to each cheek, then a cross slash across both cheeks.
Her ass quivered, her cheeks wiggled, her head lifted, more hisses came from her lips. This, the bitch had felt. It was time to end the strokes before they got too hard and entered the realm of painful and punitive. He wanted to arouse her, to give her and himself some fun, not to turn her off to the joy of whipping and most of all, he didn't want to come cum in his pants.
Bardeley would give her just one more. Gripping his birch he swung it up and down in a vertical slash that ran down her groove and kissed her puffed anal flower with the edge of the birch.
"Oh, my," she said, as she lifted her head in response to the sharp sting that rushed up her asshole and through her intestines! He dropped the birch just then and said, "let me put something on that miss. It'll take away the sting and then I've got something to put inside to really make it feel better."
He laughed at his own humor as he got the ream cream, after throwing the birch away to the side. He fumbled with the cap and got it off. His face was flushed, his eyes were doing somersaults in his head, his mouth was open and air was jetting in and out.
He threw the cap to the side and took out a gob of cream and began to smear it across the anal flower before him. She felt the coolness and smiled, relaxing her body, but knowing her asshole would be getting a reaming she would not soon forget. Mr. Bardeley looked to be one of those hard-loving anal studs who would take her again and again to find the true rectal joy an ass admirer like him would really appreciate.
Then he took another gob and poked one long finger up into her in a moderate corkscrew motion. While rushed, and needing satisfaction fast, he also had some consideration for the woman with him.
Anita appreciated this. She would pay it back by being extra considerate as she gave him pleasure now and in the future.
He pulled his finger out, got another gob of cream and gave that to her. Anita lifted her burning, well birched ass and spread those cheeks wider in order to provide him with the extra room he needed to get those fingers in.
When he pulled his fingers out he got his zipper down, loosened his belt and pulled down his pants so that he could operate with his unlimbered cock and balls ready for action.
He began to apply gobs of cream to his cock. He was so hot that he hadn't even allowed Dunahoe to use the switch on her ass. Dunahoe had been too scared to ask the boss to let him. He didn't want the boss angry at him. But if the boss didn't ask him when he was done, Dunahoe would go over, grease up his own cock and plunge it in. He was going to get some ass off that fine black piece come hell or high water.
Bardeley worked his cock till it was gleaming and greased. Then he dropped the jar to the floor. So nervous had he become, that he did not even think about putting it on a desk or anything else but getting into that gleaming, throbbing, hot asshole in that fine, fleshy, big black ass he had birched so well and with such skill only minutes before.
The jar rolled till Dunahoe picked it up and then he too began to unlimber his machinery and began to grease it up, hoping that Bardeley would not take too long in her divine asshole.
Putting his hands down on her trembling, hot and marked cheeks, Bardeley palpitated the hot flesh; his fingers digging deep into the hot, shivering cheeks. With his hands thus anchored he was ready to ensconce his pole of burning purple-red meat in the depths of her bowels.
She began to will her asshole to relax. Anita knew what was coming and wanted no problems in swallowing that big meat, which the vice president would now push up into her rectum. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead on the cool wood of the desk.
Bardeley put the tip of his blunt, quivering cock against the hot softness of her puffed anal ring and just felt the flesh for a second. It was enough to make his balls tremble with the thought of taking her.
Then, he closed his eyes a second and pushed forward. Her asshole seemed to give around him, putting up no resistance, as he shoved the head steadily into her. Seeing that her asshole took him with ease and without any oohs or aahs from her, he pushed on, not stopping when her anal ring swelled up as her asshole took in his head and then her anal ring closed around him.
It was hot and soft and tight and greased at the same time. He pushed on, savoring the first heat and squeeze of her ass. By this time he had the head and more than an inch-and-a-half of the stem inside of her. He heard her hiss and whoosh and lift her head and watched the ripple of muscles along her smooth, sleek back. Bardeley stopped.
She was grateful for that. Anita took it as a time to rest up for the next squeeze of cock going up into her and willed her rectum and colon to relax some more.
Bardeley blew out gusts of air and kept throwing his head up and back. Her asshole was reacting to the penetration of this hard object up into her. It began to ripple down and out as if to expel him. But the immovable object now inside of Anita would not be moved. It would not go away and it merely quivered as her asshole assaulted it.
Bardeley was hissing, gritting his teeth, clenching his lips, squeezing harder on the chunks of assmeat he held in his hands. Anita, below him, felt that cock tickling her insides and the heat from her cunt merging with the conflagration in her asshole and the tingling effects of the birching, which had traveled to every portion of her body and had gotten the blood to flow faster and her sexual feelings to rise to a point where her heart was beating a hundred-ten times a minute, and there was a whirling within her head which made Anita see double.
Bardeley ceased waiting and began to push inward again. She willed her asshole to relax still more and open wider still for the large pole of firm flesh being so lovingly and steadily shoved up and up till her asshole would be gorged with hot, executive cock. White executive cock. Remembering who she was serving and what it would mean to her future, Anita began to make small moans of pleasure. This was to massage his ego and to show him that she really loved it. That ought to be good for a twenty-five dollar raise after three months on the job and a further twenty-five a week three months after that or maybe sooner, depending on how much he liked her ass. It was high for a bookkeeper. But then, books weren't the only thing she would be keeping. There were hard, hot cocks, like the one he was pushing up and up into her clenching, squishing, hot and burning rectum. She gasped. The tension of the passion passing through her made Anita suck more air down into suddenly bottomless lungs.
She twisted those cheeks from side to side, the flesh undulating under his hands. But she did not move too far. Bardeley had her anchored there and kept her firmly against the desk.
Anita thrilled to his masculine power and the strength of his fingers. At first, he had hurt her, with all the pressure he was applying, as he speared big chunks of flesh with hard, hungry fingers. But now, she felt almost nothing. Not even the aftermath of the sting of the birching he had given her.
Bardeley pushed himself into her to the hilt. She was so tight that he felt the very ream cream squeezed from his slicked and hard cock. He stayed and felt the tightness, the spongy power of the rectum undulating and trying to expel this hard foe now deep into her guts. The feel of so many convulsions created hundreds of ripple sensations that massaged his prong from head to base. The touch of her along the plump underside, against the thick vein which ran there, was maddening.
Bardeley began to rotate his ass to work off some of the sexual tension her asshole massage was creating. Dunahoe watched and rubbed his meat and swallowed and tried not to pull off. Soon, he told himself, soon, it would be his chance and his cock plunging into the tropic depths of that fine, black ass, now so insolently display and about to be so grandly and gloriously fucked till she was mad with the power of that thing and wild like only a woman can be in the throes of high passion.
Bardeley began to pull himself out. He looked down; his eyes still open, but being forced closed by the power of the sexual waves now smashing over the beachhead of his consciousness.
He took himself out to the head. She felt him leave and wanted to hoist her ass back and swallow all that fine, wonderful, white executive meat that was leaving her. Anita felt strangely empty now, and her bowels hungered for a hard, masterful cock to ream out her insides and teach her what being a woman is all about.
But she had nothing to fear. Bardeley rammed back home and pushed himself into her to the hilt. She took him with a gasp as his belly slapped back in against that big ass. He felt those cushiony cheeks indent then spring back into place.
Her asshole exploded in a frenzy of ripples, as it fought his cock's return. But it failed. All it did was to make him gasp and hiss and groan with the pleasure he was receiving. Bardeley, shut his eyes, opened his mouth and threw back his head. His fingers squeezed harder at the meat of her ass. But by then Anita was on fire and felt nothing but waves of pleasure. Her asshole was a burning oil-well and his cock was the drill plunging into her unknown and plumbing the depths.
He pulled out and then rammed home. This time he was a bit harder and faster. Under the divine ministrations of her experienced and hot asshole, he had grown an additional three-quarters of an inch. He was harder and thicker now. And she loved it, she just loved it.
He plunged in again and buried himself as far as possible before pulling back out. Her asshole was going crazy under the ruthless pile-drives of his boiling prong. Her bowels twitched and every corner of her dark, tropical intestines was tingling with the fire and the ass heat emanating from the ruthless buggery he was practicing on her.
Anita was digging her nails into the desk and shaking her head and opening and shutting her mouth. Her lips were clenching tight one moment, while the next second she was licking them with a long, wet, hot looking tongue. He continued to ram faster and harder into her. These were short, swift jabs, which took him about halfway out, then back home to the hilt.
The fires from her whipped cheeks traveled till they touched the far reaches of her ass, thighs, toes, tits and fingers. Her nipples, now so hard with lust, were rubbed against the smooth wooden surface of the desk by the swaying of her body under the assault of his hard plunges.
Each rub made her tits tauter and hotter. The fires of lust traveled from her swollen tits back down to her cunt and asshole and made them vibrate still more with the fire and the savage passion of the thing he was doing to her.
Her brain stewed in a pink fizz. She wanted to take one hand from the edge of the desk and begin to play with her tits, but couldn't. The effect of the fire across her senses and throughout her flesh made any movement impossible. Anita began to hiss and wiggle her ass more wildly; enticing the man fucking her, making him fuck in harder, more brutal jabs. Her asshole was overwhelmed by the effect. It aided him mightily in the downward thrusts and helped him grandly in the upward bashes, as it rippled with full force against the ram thrusting into her. But all this was to no avail. He was master of her ass and the possessor of her asshole.
"Fuck me," she gasped. "Fuck me deeper and harder. Screw the living shit out of my asshole."
Bardeley clenched his teeth and began to fuck her with determined ruthlessness. He let his cock shoot out to the head and then rammed all the way in. These were full thrusts, that opened her up, right to the limits of her colon. They were longer thrusts than the short fuck jabs Bardeley had been using till now and so they were not as fast. But the raw determination and power he displayed as he fucked into her, made his cock travel in and out with the speed that gave it super strength and made her asshole convulse like a wild sleeve around the slicked, red and now brown stained meat spearing her with such savage regularity.
He used his hips like blazing pistons to shove that cock about and put the meat to her with a harsh pounding vigor that he rarely used on his wife.
"God, Lord, Holy Mother," she exclaimed, lifting her hands from the edges of the desk, making them into fists and beating the top of the desk as she sobbed and gasped and groaned in passion at the power of his fucking.
"Take me, take me. Take all of me, sir. I'm yours. My asshole is yours forever." Then she fell silent except for gasps of fresh air and mewlings of advanced passion. He was piledriving her asshole into ruthless convulsions that made her cunt drip lust juice onto the desktop and her entire body quiver with jolts and waves of red and green and orange fire.
Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open, and her brain sizzled with myriad colors and waves of incandescent blue and red and purple. She could feel the lust dancing inside of her. She could feel her tits about to burst with the pressure of her lust, the nipples so hard, that she was afraid they would scratch the wooden desktop; her cunt so wet that it seemed as if half of Lake Michigan was leaking from between her thighs. The peak of her sexual flow was coming. She could feel it rise from deep within her, moving past her madly pounding heart. She could see it even though her eyes were closed and her face pointed forward and not down at her body.
Bardeley increased the level of his fucking a few more strokes per minute. His own peak was about to strike. He could feel it in his balls; which swayed to and fro like a pendulum gone mad. He bashed still harder into her and felt his balls bouncing, smashing, thumping against her furry, wet, open pussy and one of his balls almost, but not quite, making it into her gash each time he stroked home.
His nuts quivered and in their quivering he could tell the juices were boiling, about to rush up his cock and into her asshole. He could almost visualize this and remembered the last time he had filled a soft, yielding female asshole with white hot cum. It had been New Years and, as was always the custom in the Bardeley house, his wife greased up her rectum, went on hands and knees and shoved that fine, white ass of tier's in the air, then spread those cheeks and took a mighty load of her husband's tool up the old bunghole. She had walked funny for days afterward. But Bardeley remembered fondly what a treat it had been. And the remembered delights of last time came back now and made his cock grow another quarter inch in anticipation of the feast he would have in this fine, vigorous, still fighting asshole. He knew that his wife's asshole could never compare to that of Anita Dumont. Nor could his wife's ass compare to her's, nor could anything his wife had compare to the qualities of this woman.
Getting such meat was a rare and grand treat. He tried to reflect some more. But now his stomach muscles quivered, his brain seethed, his nuts twitched. He could feel his balls preparing to give up their cream. He rammed harder still.
In that ramming, Anita could feel he would come. She hoped she would be able to cum before him or while he was cumming. She didn't want to miss out on anything.
Watching them, hotter than he had been at any point since he was fourteen and jerked off, watching an older boy, next door, fuck the queen of the high school cheerleaders in the mouth, Dunahoe prayed his cock would not burst and he would not shoot prematurely. He wanted to be ready when Bardeley finished spewing his load in Anita's asshole.
"Feel it, you bitch," Bardeley muttered. "Feel that cock." He gave her the whole thing from tip to base in one second. Then he repeated it and did it in just half a second. His cock was going so fast there was almost a friction burn between the surface of his tool and the shocked insides of her poor asshole.
His tool swelled as the sensations of needle-fire rushed up his cock and then down into his balls, causing the sperm there to liquify and flood up the length of his tool, then explode like fire from a flamethrower, coating the walls of her insides with sticky, thick white cum.
It touched her like liquid nitro with a match put to it. Her rectum and colon exploded in an even wilder frenzy of clutchings and downward ripples. She gasped, trying to lift her behind, but unable to. Her entire body seemed to collapse in surrender as he fucked her wild and filled her with his cream. Her asshole reacted by squeezing his cock like a wet washcloth in an attempt to make it limp and soft.
She shivered, she shook, she gasped, she twisted, and then she began to sob hysterically as her asshole sent tidal waves of brutal fire up along her body and then through each fiber of her frenzied, maddened flesh.
She could not move, so powerful had this thing become. She just lay there, her body now a receptacle of flesh into which he punched his now shrinking cock, which she milked with grand and powerful convulsions of her burning rectum. It felt as if napalm had exploded inside. Great heat waves passed up through her intestines and towards her heart and brain; where they struck with crushing blows that drove her into a tizzy of wild gasping and mewling. This fucking was becoming too much. She almost wanted to scream, "stop, no more. My asshole! My poor, poor asshole!" But there was no strength to scream, to say a word. She just lay there, his clay to do with whatever he pleased. And at the moment he pleased to fuck her with every ounce of energy he had left.
She felt each pounding blast. Each thrust that sent her brain dancing to even wilder and more rabid heights. The entire screen of her inner vision danced with the fire of burning red and then shimmering orange and blue. Out of the shimmering would come three, four, five, vase shaped puffs of blue and these would disappear to be replaced by slashes of yellow, which would finally dominate the entire screen before fading out to allow a newer color to take it's place.
In the middle of this firey show and the ruthless pounding of the vice president in her asshole so sore and tortured, she came. The coming was like a hammerblow through her brain and heart and cunt and ass simultaneously. It seemed almost to lift her up out of this place, where she was. For short seconds she became one with the universe. Her body danced about under Bardeley. He was barely able to hold her. Her shaking made his cock tingle and slowed the shrinking, even though she was squeezing his meat like a limp washrag and squeezing every last drop of cum from his cock.
His own cumming passed quickly. He came down from that high world, in which he had been, and as he did and the grip of passion loosened, he went slower; aware of his exhaustion and breathlessness. His cock was still hard, but softening and he found that making progress in the inferno of her asshole was quite hard in his present state. At last, he stopped altogether, wiped sweat from his brow with the wrist of his right hand and let go of her cheeks.
Standing there, he wondered a moment if he should perhaps go on, but then decided, no, he'd had more than enough. He looked down at his white, still reddish cock sticking out between her cheeks, which still wiggled around.
Anita had not yet emerged from her high and the fact that he was no longer shooting or filling her shit chute with cum made her sad and disappointed. She was half-aware of this world, while still in the other world.
At last, Bardeley began to pull himself from her. He did so slowly, watching his stained cock emerge inch by inch. Then he stopped at the head to let it stay in another ten or fifteen seconds so he could feel the delicious nippings of her anal sphincter.
Then, Bardeley pulled out and staggered over to a nearby chair, not even bothering to put his cock back in his pants. He looked at her, still bent over the desk, those big cheeks pointing up in the air, her asshole swollen wide open, as big as a silver dollar, the fleshy perimeter quivering.
"Oh, shit," she muttered, "I need dick. I still need dick."
Anita would get her wish answered sooner than expected. Dunahoe rushed over and staggering the last few steps, said, "this is for you, sweet bitch." Without hesitation, he rammed his meat into her, up to the hilt, like a madman in heat.
Her asshole closed around him as Anita gurgled in joy and Donahue began fucking her with the ruthlessness of a man who hasn't eaten in three months, being invited to Thanksgiving dinner. All the while, she danced about beneath him and massaged his plunging tool with her hot rectum.