Beginnings Chapter 4 Room For Change
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Beginnings: Chapter 2 - Formalities free porn video
When I awoke the following morning, my eyelids steadfastly resisted my initial attempts to open them. My night’s sleep had been punctuated by a patchwork of semi-lucid dreams which had left my head feeling furry. Within moments my mind turned back to my meeting with Veronica the previous evening. I spent several seconds lightly rubbing the heels of the palms of my hands against my unwilling eyes in an attempt to hurry along full consciousness. For a few seconds I played with the possibility that the events of the previous evening had been a semi-lucid dream too. When my heavy eyelids finally prised themselves open sufficiently, I turned my head sideways to check the time and saw Veronica’s black case-file of papers relating to Samantha Sutton’s divorce sat on my bedside table. I laid my head back on the pillow and drew the duvet up over it, heaving a weighty sigh. The previous evening had been no dream.
In the haze of my mind in which my early-morning thoughts were now swimming, my head began to try to make some sense of what had happened little more than twelve hours earlier. One thing was absolutely certain; I had never done anything like that before. It was totally out of character for me. My first instinct was to try to blame the wine. I had virtuously abstained from drinking any alcohol during my final year at university, I suggested to myself, and my body was just not used to it. I knew, however, that this attempt to explain what had happened was in reality little more than wishful thinking. I had barely drunk three-quarters of a glass of red wine; even my grandmother could have drunk that amount without so much as feeling drowsy! My mind needed answers but was struggling to find any.
Under the comforting warmth of the duvet my thoughts began to drift lazily back to the wine bar and the unbelievable ease with which Veronica had managed to unlock such intoxicating, irresistible sexual urges from deep within. I had always suspected I was possessed of what may have been described as a ‘shrinking’ personality, but the way in which my emotions had been so totally and effortlessly overpowered had taken my feelings of vulnerability to an entirely new level. It was, however, a vulnerability that for those moments had made me feel more alive than I ever had in my life.
As I lay there, I felt a divine heat beginning to radiate from between my legs once more. My logical mind was still exhorting me to keep looking for answers I could understand; my body, on the other hand, was urging me to surrender to the desire that was building between my legs and percolating tantalisingly through my body. I squeezed my thighs tightly together as my body and mind wrestled. Then, slowly, the fingers of my right hand began to move over my warm torso and find my left breast. Under the palm of my hand I could feel my nipple, engorged and tense, pressing insistently against the smooth black satin of my nightie. I allowed my palm to rub lightly over it and encourage its firm insistence yet further, before surrounding my breast with my hand, kneading and caressing it until I felt it swell deliciously under my touch.
I felt my back arch and I allowed my left hand to slip down between my legs. I was beginning to feel powerless again in the face of my sudden desire. My mind was bathed in sexual thoughts and appetites that I was beginning to realise I had no control over. In my mind’s eye I saw Veronica’s deep, sensuous eyes once more, assertive and hungry, burrowing into my mind and melting whatever resistance I had. My fingers drifted easily down inside the waistband of my panties and quickly found the puffy outer lips of my sex, now moist with the dew of my desire, and I began to explore their moist, fleshy texture. My weakening mind then reminded me that Veronica’s toes had been there; that they had pushed inside me and eventually had driven me over the edge and into intense sexual pleasure. My wet, yielding lips were provocatively inviting my fingers to press against them just a little more and slide inside. Feeling my breathing quicken, I felt my fingers almost being sucked inside myself, and let out a little moan of pleasure.
A knock on my bedroom door and the sound of it opening, however, brought me swiftly back to reality, as I hurriedly pulled my hand from within the confines of my panties. Under the duvet I could feel my fingers, slick and sticky.
“What time do you call this?” my mother asked. “It’s nearly ten o’clock.”
“It’s Saturday morning,” I complained. My mother was the kind of woman who paid no attention to complaints.
“So tell me,” she said, rather like an excited child as she perched herself at the end of the bed, “How did your meeting with Veronica go last night?” I motioned with my eyes to the black file on my bedside table. “She wants me to start on Monday morning.”
“She’s offered you a job for the summer?” my mother chirped. “I just knew you would impress her. From the size of that file, it looks as though you are going to be quite busy.”
“It looks that way,” I sighed, my disappointment at my secret, spontaneous pleasure being so suddenly and fatally interrupted now beginning to overtake me.
“Come on!” my mother urged, patting my legs over the duvet. “I’m going to take you into town to celebrate.” With that she stood up and left the bedroom, leaving my door wide open and my hopes of a few moments personal pleasure tight shut.
I spent most of the remainder of that weekend diligently studying the contents of the file. I anticipated that Veronica would expect me to be intimately acquainted with the case. I had to confess to myself that, in spite of not really having much interest in family law, aspects of the case had already begun to intrigue me, and the more I read about it, the more absorbed I became.
It became clear that Adam Sutton, Samantha’s husband, was claiming that his wife had been unfaithful to him, not only with the agency model Emily but also, over a long period of time, with a number of other women. For Samantha’s part, in her own statement she categorically denied the allegations that Adam was making. At first blush there seemed to be very little evidence to support the allegations beyond what Adam was claiming; there was no statement from Emily, or for that matter from any of the other women who Adam suggested had been involved with Samantha, and there were no photographs of Samantha in flagrante. However, I noted that at the end of his statement that Adam had ominously indicated that in due course he would provide undeniable proof of his wife’s infidelity. The other thing he was claiming was a financial settlement that ran well into seven figures.
I had been more than a little nervous about arriving at the office on the Monday morning, and as I passed through the reception area at a little before nine o’clock my stomach felt like rough, ravelled rope. I made my way by lift to the fifth floor, where the partners of the firm all had their own plush and spacious offices, and walked along the corridor until I eventually found a door with an impressive metallic name plate on which were impressed the words ‘Veronica Hamilton, Senior Partner’. I curled my fingers into my slightly clammy palm and, with more than a touch of trepidation, knocked on the door. After a few moments of silence I heard Veronica’s voice from within, bidding me to come in.
As I entered and closed the door behind me, I could see Veronica sat behind an expansive, imposing desk, her jacket hung neatly over the plush, broad shoulders of the high-backed leather chair on which she was sat. She was hunched industriously over a scattered sea of papers and several weighty legal volumes, some of which were in small untidy piles and others open in front of her, holding an expensive-looking silver pen between her slender, red-tipped fingers and writing avidly. It was obvious that she had been hard at work for quite some time. I moved a little closer to the edge of her desk, hardly daring to do anything to interrupt the silent energy that was pervading the whole room. There I waited, clutching the black file to my chest and feeling, as the moments ticked by, more and more like an anxious schoolgirl who had been called to the headmistress’s study for failing to hand her homework in on time. Eventually, signing whatever papers she was working on with a flourish of her pen, Veronica raised her eyes and looked at me. I felt a mysterious mix of nervousness and semi-embarrassment begin to bathe me and lowered my eyes slightly.
“Is there a problem, Lucy?” she asked. I felt that perhaps there was, but at that precise moment I was unable to identify it. Part of me wondered how Veronica could so confidently feel no sense of awkwardness or self-consciousness about what had happened in the wine bar three days earlier.
“No, there isn’t, Honestly,” I replied.
“Good,” she said, her tone blunt and disarming. “Now, you can work over there,” she continued, pointing to a generously broad, mahogany, leather-topped desk a few feet away. “I intend on keeping you very busy today, Lucy.”
“I don’t mind that at all,” I replied, feeling an intense need to say the right thing although knowing that I had no idea what, exactly, the ‘right thing’ was where Veronica was concerned. I knew that impressing Veronica was probably going to be impossible, but I had no wish to add to this by causing any offence. I had no real ideal of the protocol and at least wanted to ensure I didn’t upset her unnecessarily,
“By the way, may I just ask how I should address you?” Veronica offered me a sober, serious look.
“For the time being, Lucy, at all times you are going to call me Miss Hamilton. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” I replied. Veronica looked at me intently. It was a look that conveyed clearly that she expected me to say something more. I felt confused.
“I don’t like repeating myself, Lucy, but bearing in mind that this is your first day, and in case you didn’t quite hear me the first time, I told you that at all times you are going to call me Miss Hamilton.” Inside, I suddenly felt a heavy penny drop.
“I’m sorry. Yes, of course, Miss Hamilton.” Veronica’s eyes began to warm perceptibly and at that moment I felt an inexplicable, intense and comforting heat radiate through my body.
Veronica was true to her word. She kept me busy all morning, although most of my tasks were relatively mundane: several trips to the local county court offices in order to file applications, delivering papers along the corridor to Veronica’s secretary for typing up, multiple visits to the photocopying machine, and locating a variety of legal volumes containing statutes and cases that Veronica needed consumed every moment of my time. I had to confess to feeling more than a little disappointed. I had anticipated the work of a busy, high-powered lawyer to be rather more exotic. The closest I came that morning to anything exotic was making Veronica a cup of coffee with beans that had been grown in Brazil.
By the middle of the afternoon, Veronica was still busy working on her papers, as she had been all day. At around half-past three, as I was hunting along the bookshelves, trying to find another volume of statutes for her, the telephone on her desk rang.
“Will you answer that for me, Lucy, and tell whoever it is that I am not to be disturbed for another hour at least.” I went over to Veronica’s desk and tentatively lifted the handset.
“Hello?” I said. “Who is it please?” The female voice on the other end told me she was Helen Swan, the office administrator. She asked to speak to Veronica.
“I’m sorry, Miss Swan,” I replied, “but Veronica can’t speak to you at the moment. Can you call back in perhaps an hour?” On the other end of the line I heard Helen sigh deeply before putting the receiver down. I went back to my task of finding the books that Veronica had asked for.
Several minutes later, as my eyes were busily skimming the bookshelves, I heard Veronica put her pen down firmly onto her desk. I turned around to see her ease her leather chair back from her desk, stand up and walk towards me. She had a purposeful look on her face; not angry, but clearly resolute and intense. I sensed something was wrong but the aura surrounding her somehow prevented me from saying anything.
I turned to face her as she continued to calmly walk over to me, until finally she was stood some two or three feet in front of me. Her eyes were intense again. Slowly she raised her right arm and extended her slender fingers into my hair. I felt them brush against my neck and felt a scattering cascade of what felt like electricity run down my shoulders, back and arms. Her fingers continued, slow and gentle, round to the back of my head, which I tilted back a little way. Suddenly, I felt her fingers tighten firmly around the hair at the back of my head. It wasn’t particularly painful but her grip on my hair was firm enough to tilt my head back still further until my eyes were looking upwards and directly into hers.
“Lucy,” she said, her voice low but controlled. “For an intelligent girl, your short-term memory seems to be something of a problem, and we are going to have to put it right very quickly. Do you know what I am talking about?” I shook my head as best I could given the tight hold Veronica had on my hair.
“I see,” she sighed. “Then I can see I am going to have to deal with you rather more firmly than I had anticipated.” Still holding the back of my hair in a vice-like grip, Veronica began to walk me slowly over to my desk. I was battling with my feet, planted in still unfamiliar heels, in an attempt to maintain my balance. Suddenly I felt the front of my upper thighs make firm contact with the edge of my desk, but Veronica was still moving me forward, holding my hair and pressing against my back with her body. Eventually the upper half of my body collapsed forward onto the desk. My face was now so close to the leather that I could smell it.
“The one thing that you must understand, Lucy,” Veronica said calmly, “is that when I give you instructions, you do as you are told.” My mind was whirring like a flywheel at the speed and vigour with which I had been folded unceremoniously across my desk. I was struggling to understand what I had done wrong. I was about to find out.
“A few minutes ago I asked you to answer a call for me, didn’t I Lucy?” she continued. She pulled my head up slightly by my hair; my back arched a little and I could feel my bottom tense and stretch within the tightness of my skirt. I then felt the palm of Veronica’s hand begin to caress it, firmly but provocatively.
“Yes, Miss Hamilton, you did,” I said, managing to find enough air to force the words from my lips.
“And do you remember what you said?”
“No, Miss Hamilton, not exactly. I think I told her...”
“Stop waffling, Lucy. I know exactly what you told her. I was listening.” Veronica’s hand was now circling over my bottom rather more firmly, and her fingers spreading over it and pressing into it. “And when you spoke to Miss Swan, do you remember how you referred to me? It was something I had specifically instructed you about only this morning?”
I suddenly became aware of what I had done, but before I had the opportunity of even attempting to respond I felt the palm of Veronica’s hand pull away from my bottom, only to be brought back sharply within seconds with a firm slap. My taut backside immediately began to burn and smart. I yelped, but before there was time for what was happening to fully sink in, I felt another searing spank scorch my bottom. I yelped again, this time a little louder. As I felt the painful warmth dissipate over my backside and radiate up to my body and down the back of my thighs, I became aware of another warmth, deliciously provocative, beginning to gather between my legs.
“I’m sorry Lucy,” she said sharply, “but if you insist on making that noise, you leave me no choice.” Behind me, I sensed Veronica suddenly sink to her knees before running both of her hands swiftly and nimbly up inside the depths of my skirt. Within moments I felt her fingers hook themselves into the elasticated waistband of my panties and in one agile motion she slid them down my legs,before lifting up each of my feet in turn in order for me to step out of them.
“Well, well,” she continued in a slightly mocking tone. “What have we here? Why on earth are your panties this damp, Lucy?” I watched as she quickly rolled my delicate white lace knickers into a neat ball in the palm of her hand.
“Open your mouth, Lucy,” she purred. As the words were spoken I felt Veronica’s fingers work into my hair once more and pull it tight. My mouth opened involuntarily and immediately I felt my warm panties being pressed into it and filling it. The taste of sex teased my tongue and began to fill my senses.
“Now, Lucy,” she continued firmly, “you will never...ever...refer to me as Veronica again, until I give you express...permission. Is that clear?” In perfect rhythm with every emphasised word she brought the palm of her hand into searing contact with my bottom. With each spank I let out muffled moans into the soft, sex-scented fabric that was stuffed roughly into my mouth. Not only could I feel the branding heat of each one, but I could hear each slap like a loud firecracker. After the first couple of spanks I reached for the edge of my desk, gripping it tight until my knuckles blanched. After each one, what quickly became my desperation for the next began to grow, and gradually it felt as though my moans were not so much of pain, but of exquisite, undeniable pleasure.
My breathing had become heavy and accelerated. As the spanks stopped, I suddenly felt physically exhausted and as though I had run a marathon in two minutes. My bottom was burning and all I wanted to do was lay there for a few moments, spread-eagled on my desk to recover my composure. Veronica had other ideas.
In one smooth movement I felt myself being rolled over on the desk and onto my back. I looked up to see Veronica stood over me. Her eyes were intense and smouldering, although her face betrayed not a hint of anything other than perfect control. She reached out her hand, moved her fingers between my lips and pulled the panties from my mouth. I let out an audible gasp as I felt the air rush in, filling my breathless lungs.
“I am pleased to see that you have swapped cotton for lace,” Veronica said, her eyes simmering. “However, Lucy, you have to understand that if you do not do as I instruct you will be punished. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“Yes, Miss Hamilton,” I replied, nodding. I began to try to lever myself upright using my elbows against the desk. Immediately I felt Veronica’s right hand against my chest, pushing me back onto the desk.
“What do you think you are doing, Lucy? Did I give you permission to get up?” I shook my head. By this time every word she spoke was like warm syrup sliding through my body.
I caught my breath again as I felt Veronica’s right hand move under the confines of my skirt. I almost instinctively shuffled my bottom back a little, so that it rested more fully on the desk. As I did so, I became aware of an exquisite pain radiating from my bottom from the firm effects of Veronica’s spanks, making me arch my back and push my hips upwards, towards her advancing fingers.
“Goodness, you are an eager girl, aren’t you?” she teased. Her fingers seemed to take an eternity on their journey under my skirt, brushing lightly against my silken inner thigh and gliding wistfully over its smooth contours.
“How warm you are down there,” Veronica continued, as her fingertips edged higher. Suddenly I felt them brush against my puffy, viscous opening, and threw my head back as she ran two slender fingers expertly over it. Slowly, she teased my slick petals apart and slipped two fingers inside me.
“What a wet girl you are, darling,” she said, “but I want more; much more.” I could faintly hear the sound of her fingers as they slid playfully in the smooth nectar which was lubricating my increasingly yielding sex. I felt myself stretch and surrender to the way her fingers pressed and probed inside me. One moment she would be curling her long fingers deep within me; the next she would drag them over my engorged clit and vibrate it, causing waves of pleasure to flow over me. I could feel myself flooding under her touch. I then felt her fingers withdraw from between my legs.
“Sit up, Lucy,” she ordered. I slowly struggled to lift myself and immediately became aware of the way my bottom was still smarting. Veronica moved her hand behind my head and helped to ease me upwards until I was sat upright facing her. I felt her fingers tighten in my tousled, shoulder-length chestnut hair once more.
“What I want you to do now, Lucy, is to take the papers I have been working on most of the day down to my secretary and tell her I need them typing up before five o’clock. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes, Miss Hamilton, I can,” I replied. Her fingers continued to clutch my hair tightly.
“You have exquisite, soft lips, Lucy,” she continued. “All they really need to perfect them is some suitable gloss.” With that, she lifted the two fingers which moments before had been tantalising the desire that had been, and was still, burning between my legs. They were glistening and shimmering with the viscous essence of my lust. Slowly, she moved her fingers to my lips and began to smear my liquid lust liberally over my lips, coating them, before pressing her two fingers into the warmth of my mouth and finding my tongue. I felt myself beginning to suckle gently on her fingers, tasting myself on them, and moaning softly. Within seconds all I could smell and taste was the overpowering scent of my sex.
“Now go and take those papers to my secretary right away, Lucy.”
I nodded and slid off the desk as cautiously as I could, conscious of the burning sensation in my bottom. I began to bend down tentatively in order to pick up my panties, which Veronica had dropped on the floor a few minutes earlier.
“Did I tell you to put your knickers back on, Lucy?” Veronica demanded.
“No, Miss Hamilton.”
“Well leave them where they are, then, and run along and take these papers to my secretary.”
As I left Veronica’s office, clutching an armful of papers, I realised that I probably looked a mess. My hair felt wild and rebellious. My skirt and blouse were looking more than a little creased. Every time I took a breath I inhaled sex, and every time the tip of my tongue lightly touched my lips, I tasted it. Between my legs I still felt a tantalising, unsatisfied warmth, and a trickle of warm, liquid sex was making its languid way down my inner thigh. Besides that, my bottom felt deliciously tender. As I walked down the corridor towards the larger, open-plan office where the secretaries of the partners worked, my mind managed to put a word to the way that I was feeling at that very moment: wanton.
I approached the work station where Veronica’s polite and industrious secretary, Karen McCarthy was deep in concentration, preparing bundles of court papers for another case Veronica was working on. Karen, a slim and attractive woman in her early-thirties, smiled warmly when she saw me, and with her fingers provocatively flicked back some errant strands of long strawberry-blonde hair that had dropped disobediently over her face.
“I’m sorry, Karen,” I said, “but Miss Hamilton told me to tell you that she needs these papers typed up by five o’clock.”
“That’s no problem at all, Miss Richardson,” she said as I passed the papers to her. “You can tell Miss Hamilton that I will have them ready by then.
“Thank you, Karen,” I replied.
“And how has your first day been, Miss Richardson? Has Miss Hamilton been keeping you occupied?” Suddenly I felt my cheeks flush irresistibly, and smiled awkwardly.
“Yes, she has. By the way, please call me Lucy.”
“That’s very nice of you, Miss Richardson, but Miss Hamilton gave me strict instructions first thing this morning that I mustn’t do that.”
As Karen looked into my eyes, I could not help wondering whether she was aware of the scent of sex that I was inhaling with every breath and tasting on my tongue. I felt as though my whole body was betraying how wanton I felt at that moment. Suddenly, and out of nowhere, I felt the most overwhelming need to tell Karen to sink to her knees in front of me, to lift my skirt and to lap my swollen, wet labia with her tongue until my orgasm broke over it in waves. Instead, I smiled, thanked her and made my way back to Veronica’s office.
Copyright. All of my stories are written entirely by myself. Please do not copy or repost them.
Copyright 2015: claire2013. All Rights Reserved. This story may not be copied, reproduced or linked in any manner without the express written permission of the author.
In the haze of my mind in which my early-morning thoughts were now swimming, my head began to try to make some sense of what had happened little more than twelve hours earlier. One thing was absolutely certain; I had never done anything like that before. It was totally out of character for me. My first instinct was to try to blame the wine. I had virtuously abstained from drinking any alcohol during my final year at university, I suggested to myself, and my body was just not used to it. I knew, however, that this attempt to explain what had happened was in reality little more than wishful thinking. I had barely drunk three-quarters of a glass of red wine; even my grandmother could have drunk that amount without so much as feeling drowsy! My mind needed answers but was struggling to find any.
Under the comforting warmth of the duvet my thoughts began to drift lazily back to the wine bar and the unbelievable ease with which Veronica had managed to unlock such intoxicating, irresistible sexual urges from deep within. I had always suspected I was possessed of what may have been described as a ‘shrinking’ personality, but the way in which my emotions had been so totally and effortlessly overpowered had taken my feelings of vulnerability to an entirely new level. It was, however, a vulnerability that for those moments had made me feel more alive than I ever had in my life.
As I lay there, I felt a divine heat beginning to radiate from between my legs once more. My logical mind was still exhorting me to keep looking for answers I could understand; my body, on the other hand, was urging me to surrender to the desire that was building between my legs and percolating tantalisingly through my body. I squeezed my thighs tightly together as my body and mind wrestled. Then, slowly, the fingers of my right hand began to move over my warm torso and find my left breast. Under the palm of my hand I could feel my nipple, engorged and tense, pressing insistently against the smooth black satin of my nightie. I allowed my palm to rub lightly over it and encourage its firm insistence yet further, before surrounding my breast with my hand, kneading and caressing it until I felt it swell deliciously under my touch.
I felt my back arch and I allowed my left hand to slip down between my legs. I was beginning to feel powerless again in the face of my sudden desire. My mind was bathed in sexual thoughts and appetites that I was beginning to realise I had no control over. In my mind’s eye I saw Veronica’s deep, sensuous eyes once more, assertive and hungry, burrowing into my mind and melting whatever resistance I had. My fingers drifted easily down inside the waistband of my panties and quickly found the puffy outer lips of my sex, now moist with the dew of my desire, and I began to explore their moist, fleshy texture. My weakening mind then reminded me that Veronica’s toes had been there; that they had pushed inside me and eventually had driven me over the edge and into intense sexual pleasure. My wet, yielding lips were provocatively inviting my fingers to press against them just a little more and slide inside. Feeling my breathing quicken, I felt my fingers almost being sucked inside myself, and let out a little moan of pleasure.
A knock on my bedroom door and the sound of it opening, however, brought me swiftly back to reality, as I hurriedly pulled my hand from within the confines of my panties. Under the duvet I could feel my fingers, slick and sticky.
“What time do you call this?” my mother asked. “It’s nearly ten o’clock.”
“It’s Saturday morning,” I complained. My mother was the kind of woman who paid no attention to complaints.
“So tell me,” she said, rather like an excited child as she perched herself at the end of the bed, “How did your meeting with Veronica go last night?” I motioned with my eyes to the black file on my bedside table. “She wants me to start on Monday morning.”
“She’s offered you a job for the summer?” my mother chirped. “I just knew you would impress her. From the size of that file, it looks as though you are going to be quite busy.”
“It looks that way,” I sighed, my disappointment at my secret, spontaneous pleasure being so suddenly and fatally interrupted now beginning to overtake me.
“Come on!” my mother urged, patting my legs over the duvet. “I’m going to take you into town to celebrate.” With that she stood up and left the bedroom, leaving my door wide open and my hopes of a few moments personal pleasure tight shut.
I spent most of the remainder of that weekend diligently studying the contents of the file. I anticipated that Veronica would expect me to be intimately acquainted with the case. I had to confess to myself that, in spite of not really having much interest in family law, aspects of the case had already begun to intrigue me, and the more I read about it, the more absorbed I became.
It became clear that Adam Sutton, Samantha’s husband, was claiming that his wife had been unfaithful to him, not only with the agency model Emily but also, over a long period of time, with a number of other women. For Samantha’s part, in her own statement she categorically denied the allegations that Adam was making. At first blush there seemed to be very little evidence to support the allegations beyond what Adam was claiming; there was no statement from Emily, or for that matter from any of the other women who Adam suggested had been involved with Samantha, and there were no photographs of Samantha in flagrante. However, I noted that at the end of his statement that Adam had ominously indicated that in due course he would provide undeniable proof of his wife’s infidelity. The other thing he was claiming was a financial settlement that ran well into seven figures.
I had been more than a little nervous about arriving at the office on the Monday morning, and as I passed through the reception area at a little before nine o’clock my stomach felt like rough, ravelled rope. I made my way by lift to the fifth floor, where the partners of the firm all had their own plush and spacious offices, and walked along the corridor until I eventually found a door with an impressive metallic name plate on which were impressed the words ‘Veronica Hamilton, Senior Partner’. I curled my fingers into my slightly clammy palm and, with more than a touch of trepidation, knocked on the door. After a few moments of silence I heard Veronica’s voice from within, bidding me to come in.
As I entered and closed the door behind me, I could see Veronica sat behind an expansive, imposing desk, her jacket hung neatly over the plush, broad shoulders of the high-backed leather chair on which she was sat. She was hunched industriously over a scattered sea of papers and several weighty legal volumes, some of which were in small untidy piles and others open in front of her, holding an expensive-looking silver pen between her slender, red-tipped fingers and writing avidly. It was obvious that she had been hard at work for quite some time. I moved a little closer to the edge of her desk, hardly daring to do anything to interrupt the silent energy that was pervading the whole room. There I waited, clutching the black file to my chest and feeling, as the moments ticked by, more and more like an anxious schoolgirl who had been called to the headmistress’s study for failing to hand her homework in on time. Eventually, signing whatever papers she was working on with a flourish of her pen, Veronica raised her eyes and looked at me. I felt a mysterious mix of nervousness and semi-embarrassment begin to bathe me and lowered my eyes slightly.
“Is there a problem, Lucy?” she asked. I felt that perhaps there was, but at that precise moment I was unable to identify it. Part of me wondered how Veronica could so confidently feel no sense of awkwardness or self-consciousness about what had happened in the wine bar three days earlier.
“No, there isn’t, Honestly,” I replied.
“Good,” she said, her tone blunt and disarming. “Now, you can work over there,” she continued, pointing to a generously broad, mahogany, leather-topped desk a few feet away. “I intend on keeping you very busy today, Lucy.”
“I don’t mind that at all,” I replied, feeling an intense need to say the right thing although knowing that I had no idea what, exactly, the ‘right thing’ was where Veronica was concerned. I knew that impressing Veronica was probably going to be impossible, but I had no wish to add to this by causing any offence. I had no real ideal of the protocol and at least wanted to ensure I didn’t upset her unnecessarily,
“By the way, may I just ask how I should address you?” Veronica offered me a sober, serious look.
“For the time being, Lucy, at all times you are going to call me Miss Hamilton. Is that understood?”
“Yes,” I replied. Veronica looked at me intently. It was a look that conveyed clearly that she expected me to say something more. I felt confused.
“I don’t like repeating myself, Lucy, but bearing in mind that this is your first day, and in case you didn’t quite hear me the first time, I told you that at all times you are going to call me Miss Hamilton.” Inside, I suddenly felt a heavy penny drop.
“I’m sorry. Yes, of course, Miss Hamilton.” Veronica’s eyes began to warm perceptibly and at that moment I felt an inexplicable, intense and comforting heat radiate through my body.
Veronica was true to her word. She kept me busy all morning, although most of my tasks were relatively mundane: several trips to the local county court offices in order to file applications, delivering papers along the corridor to Veronica’s secretary for typing up, multiple visits to the photocopying machine, and locating a variety of legal volumes containing statutes and cases that Veronica needed consumed every moment of my time. I had to confess to feeling more than a little disappointed. I had anticipated the work of a busy, high-powered lawyer to be rather more exotic. The closest I came that morning to anything exotic was making Veronica a cup of coffee with beans that had been grown in Brazil.
By the middle of the afternoon, Veronica was still busy working on her papers, as she had been all day. At around half-past three, as I was hunting along the bookshelves, trying to find another volume of statutes for her, the telephone on her desk rang.
“Will you answer that for me, Lucy, and tell whoever it is that I am not to be disturbed for another hour at least.” I went over to Veronica’s desk and tentatively lifted the handset.
“Hello?” I said. “Who is it please?” The female voice on the other end told me she was Helen Swan, the office administrator. She asked to speak to Veronica.
“I’m sorry, Miss Swan,” I replied, “but Veronica can’t speak to you at the moment. Can you call back in perhaps an hour?” On the other end of the line I heard Helen sigh deeply before putting the receiver down. I went back to my task of finding the books that Veronica had asked for.
Several minutes later, as my eyes were busily skimming the bookshelves, I heard Veronica put her pen down firmly onto her desk. I turned around to see her ease her leather chair back from her desk, stand up and walk towards me. She had a purposeful look on her face; not angry, but clearly resolute and intense. I sensed something was wrong but the aura surrounding her somehow prevented me from saying anything.
I turned to face her as she continued to calmly walk over to me, until finally she was stood some two or three feet in front of me. Her eyes were intense again. Slowly she raised her right arm and extended her slender fingers into my hair. I felt them brush against my neck and felt a scattering cascade of what felt like electricity run down my shoulders, back and arms. Her fingers continued, slow and gentle, round to the back of my head, which I tilted back a little way. Suddenly, I felt her fingers tighten firmly around the hair at the back of my head. It wasn’t particularly painful but her grip on my hair was firm enough to tilt my head back still further until my eyes were looking upwards and directly into hers.
“Lucy,” she said, her voice low but controlled. “For an intelligent girl, your short-term memory seems to be something of a problem, and we are going to have to put it right very quickly. Do you know what I am talking about?” I shook my head as best I could given the tight hold Veronica had on my hair.
“I see,” she sighed. “Then I can see I am going to have to deal with you rather more firmly than I had anticipated.” Still holding the back of my hair in a vice-like grip, Veronica began to walk me slowly over to my desk. I was battling with my feet, planted in still unfamiliar heels, in an attempt to maintain my balance. Suddenly I felt the front of my upper thighs make firm contact with the edge of my desk, but Veronica was still moving me forward, holding my hair and pressing against my back with her body. Eventually the upper half of my body collapsed forward onto the desk. My face was now so close to the leather that I could smell it.
“The one thing that you must understand, Lucy,” Veronica said calmly, “is that when I give you instructions, you do as you are told.” My mind was whirring like a flywheel at the speed and vigour with which I had been folded unceremoniously across my desk. I was struggling to understand what I had done wrong. I was about to find out.
“A few minutes ago I asked you to answer a call for me, didn’t I Lucy?” she continued. She pulled my head up slightly by my hair; my back arched a little and I could feel my bottom tense and stretch within the tightness of my skirt. I then felt the palm of Veronica’s hand begin to caress it, firmly but provocatively.
“Yes, Miss Hamilton, you did,” I said, managing to find enough air to force the words from my lips.
“And do you remember what you said?”
“No, Miss Hamilton, not exactly. I think I told her...”
“Stop waffling, Lucy. I know exactly what you told her. I was listening.” Veronica’s hand was now circling over my bottom rather more firmly, and her fingers spreading over it and pressing into it. “And when you spoke to Miss Swan, do you remember how you referred to me? It was something I had specifically instructed you about only this morning?”
I suddenly became aware of what I had done, but before I had the opportunity of even attempting to respond I felt the palm of Veronica’s hand pull away from my bottom, only to be brought back sharply within seconds with a firm slap. My taut backside immediately began to burn and smart. I yelped, but before there was time for what was happening to fully sink in, I felt another searing spank scorch my bottom. I yelped again, this time a little louder. As I felt the painful warmth dissipate over my backside and radiate up to my body and down the back of my thighs, I became aware of another warmth, deliciously provocative, beginning to gather between my legs.
“I’m sorry Lucy,” she said sharply, “but if you insist on making that noise, you leave me no choice.” Behind me, I sensed Veronica suddenly sink to her knees before running both of her hands swiftly and nimbly up inside the depths of my skirt. Within moments I felt her fingers hook themselves into the elasticated waistband of my panties and in one agile motion she slid them down my legs,before lifting up each of my feet in turn in order for me to step out of them.
“Well, well,” she continued in a slightly mocking tone. “What have we here? Why on earth are your panties this damp, Lucy?” I watched as she quickly rolled my delicate white lace knickers into a neat ball in the palm of her hand.
“Open your mouth, Lucy,” she purred. As the words were spoken I felt Veronica’s fingers work into my hair once more and pull it tight. My mouth opened involuntarily and immediately I felt my warm panties being pressed into it and filling it. The taste of sex teased my tongue and began to fill my senses.
“Now, Lucy,” she continued firmly, “you will never...ever...refer to me as Veronica again, until I give you express...permission. Is that clear?” In perfect rhythm with every emphasised word she brought the palm of her hand into searing contact with my bottom. With each spank I let out muffled moans into the soft, sex-scented fabric that was stuffed roughly into my mouth. Not only could I feel the branding heat of each one, but I could hear each slap like a loud firecracker. After the first couple of spanks I reached for the edge of my desk, gripping it tight until my knuckles blanched. After each one, what quickly became my desperation for the next began to grow, and gradually it felt as though my moans were not so much of pain, but of exquisite, undeniable pleasure.
My breathing had become heavy and accelerated. As the spanks stopped, I suddenly felt physically exhausted and as though I had run a marathon in two minutes. My bottom was burning and all I wanted to do was lay there for a few moments, spread-eagled on my desk to recover my composure. Veronica had other ideas.
In one smooth movement I felt myself being rolled over on the desk and onto my back. I looked up to see Veronica stood over me. Her eyes were intense and smouldering, although her face betrayed not a hint of anything other than perfect control. She reached out her hand, moved her fingers between my lips and pulled the panties from my mouth. I let out an audible gasp as I felt the air rush in, filling my breathless lungs.
“I am pleased to see that you have swapped cotton for lace,” Veronica said, her eyes simmering. “However, Lucy, you have to understand that if you do not do as I instruct you will be punished. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“Yes, Miss Hamilton,” I replied, nodding. I began to try to lever myself upright using my elbows against the desk. Immediately I felt Veronica’s right hand against my chest, pushing me back onto the desk.
“What do you think you are doing, Lucy? Did I give you permission to get up?” I shook my head. By this time every word she spoke was like warm syrup sliding through my body.
I caught my breath again as I felt Veronica’s right hand move under the confines of my skirt. I almost instinctively shuffled my bottom back a little, so that it rested more fully on the desk. As I did so, I became aware of an exquisite pain radiating from my bottom from the firm effects of Veronica’s spanks, making me arch my back and push my hips upwards, towards her advancing fingers.
“Goodness, you are an eager girl, aren’t you?” she teased. Her fingers seemed to take an eternity on their journey under my skirt, brushing lightly against my silken inner thigh and gliding wistfully over its smooth contours.
“How warm you are down there,” Veronica continued, as her fingertips edged higher. Suddenly I felt them brush against my puffy, viscous opening, and threw my head back as she ran two slender fingers expertly over it. Slowly, she teased my slick petals apart and slipped two fingers inside me.
“What a wet girl you are, darling,” she said, “but I want more; much more.” I could faintly hear the sound of her fingers as they slid playfully in the smooth nectar which was lubricating my increasingly yielding sex. I felt myself stretch and surrender to the way her fingers pressed and probed inside me. One moment she would be curling her long fingers deep within me; the next she would drag them over my engorged clit and vibrate it, causing waves of pleasure to flow over me. I could feel myself flooding under her touch. I then felt her fingers withdraw from between my legs.
“Sit up, Lucy,” she ordered. I slowly struggled to lift myself and immediately became aware of the way my bottom was still smarting. Veronica moved her hand behind my head and helped to ease me upwards until I was sat upright facing her. I felt her fingers tighten in my tousled, shoulder-length chestnut hair once more.
“What I want you to do now, Lucy, is to take the papers I have been working on most of the day down to my secretary and tell her I need them typing up before five o’clock. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes, Miss Hamilton, I can,” I replied. Her fingers continued to clutch my hair tightly.
“You have exquisite, soft lips, Lucy,” she continued. “All they really need to perfect them is some suitable gloss.” With that, she lifted the two fingers which moments before had been tantalising the desire that had been, and was still, burning between my legs. They were glistening and shimmering with the viscous essence of my lust. Slowly, she moved her fingers to my lips and began to smear my liquid lust liberally over my lips, coating them, before pressing her two fingers into the warmth of my mouth and finding my tongue. I felt myself beginning to suckle gently on her fingers, tasting myself on them, and moaning softly. Within seconds all I could smell and taste was the overpowering scent of my sex.
“Now go and take those papers to my secretary right away, Lucy.”
I nodded and slid off the desk as cautiously as I could, conscious of the burning sensation in my bottom. I began to bend down tentatively in order to pick up my panties, which Veronica had dropped on the floor a few minutes earlier.
“Did I tell you to put your knickers back on, Lucy?” Veronica demanded.
“No, Miss Hamilton.”
“Well leave them where they are, then, and run along and take these papers to my secretary.”
As I left Veronica’s office, clutching an armful of papers, I realised that I probably looked a mess. My hair felt wild and rebellious. My skirt and blouse were looking more than a little creased. Every time I took a breath I inhaled sex, and every time the tip of my tongue lightly touched my lips, I tasted it. Between my legs I still felt a tantalising, unsatisfied warmth, and a trickle of warm, liquid sex was making its languid way down my inner thigh. Besides that, my bottom felt deliciously tender. As I walked down the corridor towards the larger, open-plan office where the secretaries of the partners worked, my mind managed to put a word to the way that I was feeling at that very moment: wanton.
I approached the work station where Veronica’s polite and industrious secretary, Karen McCarthy was deep in concentration, preparing bundles of court papers for another case Veronica was working on. Karen, a slim and attractive woman in her early-thirties, smiled warmly when she saw me, and with her fingers provocatively flicked back some errant strands of long strawberry-blonde hair that had dropped disobediently over her face.
“I’m sorry, Karen,” I said, “but Miss Hamilton told me to tell you that she needs these papers typed up by five o’clock.”
“That’s no problem at all, Miss Richardson,” she said as I passed the papers to her. “You can tell Miss Hamilton that I will have them ready by then.
“Thank you, Karen,” I replied.
“And how has your first day been, Miss Richardson? Has Miss Hamilton been keeping you occupied?” Suddenly I felt my cheeks flush irresistibly, and smiled awkwardly.
“Yes, she has. By the way, please call me Lucy.”
“That’s very nice of you, Miss Richardson, but Miss Hamilton gave me strict instructions first thing this morning that I mustn’t do that.”
As Karen looked into my eyes, I could not help wondering whether she was aware of the scent of sex that I was inhaling with every breath and tasting on my tongue. I felt as though my whole body was betraying how wanton I felt at that moment. Suddenly, and out of nowhere, I felt the most overwhelming need to tell Karen to sink to her knees in front of me, to lift my skirt and to lap my swollen, wet labia with her tongue until my orgasm broke over it in waves. Instead, I smiled, thanked her and made my way back to Veronica’s office.
Copyright. All of my stories are written entirely by myself. Please do not copy or repost them.
Copyright 2015: claire2013. All Rights Reserved. This story may not be copied, reproduced or linked in any manner without the express written permission of the author.
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