Babydoll
- 4 years ago
- 28
- 0
Baby free porn video
Will you take one of these every morning and lunchtime darling? Oona had
called me darling from the start and I think it kind of defused me. I
can't really say why but I liked it when she spoke to me like that, it
made me feel secure and mothered I guess. Oona was so capable that she
seemed to run Mr Boylan's business single handily. She always had
everything ready on time and presented what ever task she was assigned as
finished and perfect and accomplished so effortlessly, that you just had
to think Mr Boylan was so lucky to have her as an employee - and it
occurred to me that I was lucky to have her as my supervisor.
"Now pet you wont forget will you?"
"No Oona I won't forget, I absolutely promise I won't."
"O you're such a dote, I can see we're going to be the best of friends."
I wondered briefly if the pills helped produce in me the gush of
obedience prompted by the least of Oona's requests. One thing I did know
was that after only two days I really looked forward to that little
purple morning pill and was jumping straight into my morning agenda.
Quite what it was I couldn't say except that it involved putting on my
earphones and listening to audio files which seemed to take no time at
all except, that when I looked up and put my headphones down it was
always half past ten and time for me to make tea for Oona and Mr Boylan
and even that seemed to happen in a dream although I always seemed to
remember that Oona went out of her way to say what a little pet, and dote
I was, and lots of other babying words that made me blush in front of Mr.
Boylan.
When she spoke of Mr. Boylan it was always Mr Boylan and not Mark and
certainly not the boss or even worse the derogatory names I had heard
bosses referred to by and used myself on the litany of other jobs I had
drifted in out of since quitting school but here, after a couple of hours
it was apparent to me that this wasn't just any other job. Really I
guess that after two minutes in that office I already knew that. What I
didn't know was what I was doing there. I mean I kind of did, I needed a
job and after all no one else in my family had one, but this kind of job?
Administrative assistance in a public relations company? I had applied
with all the smug certainty of the pure bred idler that I was that I
wouldn't get it. Except that I did get the job even if at the time I was
totally at a loss to say why they'd want a scraggly haired skinny twenty
year old with a flawless pedigree in failed education and unemployment.
I suppose it must have been in some part the personality test that I did
and which for some reason I filled out honestly, well not just for some
reason but for the reason that it was a test I could do without the
overbearing expectation of failure that school tests with their public
results and pressure from my delinquent peers always seemed to carry.
That first day I found myself sheepishly making tea at half past ten for
Oona and Mr Boylan and filing documents for the afternoon. When they
asked me at home that evening how the job went I felt uncomfortable
knowing that I couldn't give them the negative answer they wanted from me
and just said alright.
The next day I started my pills and dived straight into my files and the
week flew by like that under the watchful gaze of Oona. Mr Boylan wasn't
just lucky to have Oona because she was such an efficient and organised
personal assistant. She was also beautiful, in her little skirts that
began really high up on her waist and never quite made it to her knees,
her spotless killer heels, her perfect figure, her flawless makeup,
almost too perfect you know in the way that everything she did and wore
seemed a perfectly chosen option.
I know I should have just said that I wanted to fuck her and if there had
been another guy in that office maybe I would have said that to him just
to tick the box that's marked perfectly normal guy but there wasn't and I
was glad because I just didn't want to have to say anything like about
Oona. Besides what I felt was different from just sexual, more like she
was an older sister or a younger super glam Mum or something like and
besides that again I was just so dumbstruck that anyone could look so
good and perfect and everything about her was and is just like that.
For example when my Mum wears pantyhose which she hardly ever did, but
when she did it was always just a pair from the local convenience store
in any vague shade, but when Oona wears hose which she always does
they're always tint and texture perfect with everything else she has on
so I think now maybe you have an idea of what she looks like or the kind
of woman she is. My second week I found out a little about the pains she
took to be a super uber personal assistant when she sent to me a large
department store to collect her pantyhose and told me to put them on the
company account.
I had a list with a row of twenty lines telling all the shades and labels
she wanted and what to get if I they didn't have this shade or that
brand. Eventually I got so mixed up trying to find the right ones and
then if they didn't have them make the right substitutions that I gave
the list to the lady at the hosiery department and we worked through it
together which actually felt kind of cool in the weirdest way even if I
did feel out of place in my jeans and t-shirt with such a super elegant
lady. Every pair cost over twenty euros which I thought was really mad
because I knew from experience how much pantyhose cost in our local
convenience store, i.e. about four euros.
Imagine sending a kid to buy pantyhose, I mean what would I know,
although I guess I did sometimes wonder what it felt to wear that stuff.
Imagine I even thought my Mum was glam in her four euro pantyhose but
this was so different, you know, picking through the immaculate packages
with a really sophisticated friendly and helpful lady. This really was
glamorous, picking high quality super expensive labels and being told
just how much better the fit and feel was as if they were for me. I
actually felt proud fetching the smart little department store bag with
the high class hose you know like I was helping Oona to look her
perfect best and also like I was fitting into our little team and I mean
where were all these positive ideas coming from.
One thing I did know was that the longer I stayed in this job the more I
was embarrassed by my family and their whole slack snack eating lives.
The reality that I actually liked my job was dawning on me like the event
horizon of a black hole and I knew there was no way I was going to be
able to resist that. When I looked across my tidy little workspace, so
tidy that there must have been office fairies that kept it neat and
organised while I was listening to my files, and saw Oona's perfectly
appointed workspace the conviction formed that I might even love my job
and for someone like me with my background and history that really was
weird beyond belief! By the end of my third week I hated going home in
the evenings and just went straight to bed after eating something small
because that seemed the quickest and straightest line between our house
and my office and my beloved Oona and Mr Boylan who loomed in my mind not
just as my employer but in some unsettling way as my protector. And of
course I needed to be up early to wash and condition my hair and make
sure I was as well groomed as my awful jeans, t-shirts and sweaters would
allow.
Mr Boylan didn't talk to me for weeks. Instead he talked to Oona about
me even though we were in the same room, which I guess was partly because
I might be listening to my files, and partly because Oona always gave me
my tasks and he probably didn't want to break the line. At first it felt
a little weird and definitely embarrassing because sometimes he'd talk
about me and stroke my shoulder at the same time but the really weird
thing was the minute he put his hand on me I'd feel almost faint with
giddiness. And even then he spoke in a funny almost hesitant way, like
he would ask her was baby taking pills and listening to files, pausing in
place of inserting a preposition.
Once instead of staying silent and letting Oona answer his question I
gushed, "Yes Mr Boylan Sir," which made me almost burn up but I just
couldn't help it. But then that was something else about my job,
sometimes I just didn't know what I was going to say next or that I
didn't care what I was going to say next and imagine saying Yes Mr Boylan
Sir, I mean, really where that did that come from? Where ever it came
from Mr Boylan seemed pleased and tapped my bottom with his hand and then
left it there lightly hovering and said this time to both of us I felt,
"Baby is getting along very well. Well done both of you!"
Before Oona could say anything I gushed out my little line again, "Thank
you Mr Boylan Sir".
A small caustic voice in my head remarked that I had outdone the most
simpering of the sucks in high school, the same high school I had dropped
out of two years before my SATs, but it barely registered above the
brilliance of Oona's smile and a little glow of satisfaction in my tummy
that I has said the right thing. It was all going according to plan,
whose plan exactly I didn't like to think about too much. I had too much
to do.
"I can't wait to show you off to Mr Boylan Sir." Oona's Mr Boylan Sir
always carried the slightest inflection of playful mockery.
"Ooo God I hope he won't laugh at me." I was so excited I was actually
worried that I was going to wet myself, I mean I just seemed to be damp
or moist down there! Just for fun we had played dress up or at least I
had with Oona's thrilled connivance. Oona always kept spare clothes in
our bathroom and now I was wearing them and they kind of fit, I mean not
like they fit Oona but actually better than my ordinary clothes did by
which I meant that even though I hadn't put on weight I really had to
squeeze into my jean and had an uncomfortable little spare tire that
chafed on my waist band and come to think of my thighs felt really
squashed too, I mean what was happening to me? It was like in some
places I was too skinny and in others too fat. Oona's skirt, though
didn't chafe at all, it just fell over my hips and fat little bottom and
kind of sit there like I had a waist or something like a girl and as well
it just felt well I don't know, it just felt right, the way everything I
was now wearing just seemed to feel right.
"Now come on, we better work done before we Mr Boylan comes back."
I wished I could be confident but something was happening to me down
below, something which made me glad that Oona had fixed a pad into the
girdle she made me squeeze me into.
"Oh my gosh I'm wearing a panty girdle and it feels so secure and I'm so
giddy". I said that to myself in what I identified as my new little
thinking voice but I think she sensed it. I mean it was like we were
having soo much fun! And then, well gosh it must have been the
combination of all the sensations I felt from wearing those new clothes
and seeing myself wearing them that had done it, like oh my gosh I was
leaking into the pad in a smooth flow! But it wasn't pee. And it was
carried on the most blissful sense of relief and it had everything to do
with the thought of Mr Boylan seeing me like this all perfect and
immaculate just like Oona!
"Oh my gosh" I gasped when it stopped after what was only a few seconds
but seemed like an age.
"Are you all right?" Oona's look was quizzical and smiling.
"I think so Oona. I just hope he won't laugh."
The pad contained the dampness I felt and it felt kind of nice to be damp
and squishy down there. This is really really weird I thought, realising
that what I had experienced had been an orgasm except that it couldn't
be. After all I hadn't masturbated in weeks and hadn't felt the need to
either. That wasn't true though, I had felt the need, but I just hadn't
had the ability and had stopped trying like I had forgotten how to make
myself hard. That's why I wasn't worried about those feelings Mr Boylan
gave me, because after all if I didn't get hard that mean I wasn't
sexually attracted to him, right? I didn't think about the feelings I
had for Oona because they didn't make me hard either and that would have
troubled most guys, because apart from being perfect, Oona was perfectly
hot or at least that's what 99% of guys would have said. Whatever, I
just hadn't been able to get hard, no matter how I tugged or rolled my
little thing with my fingers and I definitely wasn't hard when whatever
it was happened had happened just a few moments ago so what was it?
Whatever it was Oona seemed to know exactly what to do.
"You'll need to change your pad Baby."
I was too embarrassed not to follow her lead but somehow relieved despite
the mortification of Oona treating me like a child, to see that I had
only soiled my pad and not my girdle or my skirt or my precious pantyhose
(and like why are you saying my when all that stuff is Oona's), and
anyway the stuff that had come out was really clear and not thick and
pasty and bleachy. In a few moments I was back at my desk and feeling
freshly talced and dry and feeling somehow very, very right. Oona gave
me a little cheek-to-cheek hug, put my earphones back on and returned to
her desk and left to me to the surprise discovery that the voice that
poured like balm into my ears was one I recognised.
It was Mr Boylan Sir inviting me to fall into a hypnotic trance, which I
did following the butterflies that rose in a brilliant swirling cloud in
my tummy. By the time I felt the earphones being lifted gently from my
head I felt so calm and so restored and so obedient and so comfortable in
my new clothes and so happy that my face was cupped in Mr Boylan's hand
that I automatically turned my lips to it and kissed it and even dared to
turn my eyes up to see his handsome kindly face looking into mine.
"Isn't Baby lovely Oona, so sweet and so obedient, such a pretty little
assistant to us."
I remembered those words, sweet and obedient, from my trance and felt the
butterflies swirl again and followed them with my lips into his broad
clean hand kissing it lightly and often, inhaling his cologne, loving the
brush of his crisp of his sharp white cuff against the silky curtain of
my newly bobbed fringe. I registered through his fingers that Oona was
smiling her most brilliant smile of accomplishment and I smiled too,
brilliantly I hoped, for myself.
"Baby, Oona tells me you have a surprise for me. Stand up and show me."
I rose fluidly from my chair keeping my eyes fixed on the floor and on my
legs so enchantingly misted in nylon and so smartly shod in the peep toe
pumps that Oona had put on me automatically recalling that looking at my
Mr Boylan Sir's face was only permitted when My Mr Boylan Sir spoke just
to me and so keenly aware that this merest action was an acid test of
obedience that I simply had to pass which as it happened I seemed to do,
if not with flying colours well at least with a swirl of my skirt that
exposed my pearl pantygirdle and sheer to the waist pantyhose.
"Adorable isn't it Oona."
"Such a dote," Oona cooed and unbidden I twirled again for both of them
anxious to be inspected and approved by my employer, my protector.
Mikayla
- 28.01.2021
- 14
- 0
