“Hi, I’m Tammy Jones,” I said, business-like. “I’m not sure …”
But the elderly woman gave me a kind smile.
“Yes, we’ve been expecting you. I’m Norma,” she said, extending her hand. “We’ve desperately needed a new addition to the typing pool, so your arrival is much anticipated. Let me show you around.”
A typist? My heart sank. This was definitely old-school, I hadn’t even realized that typists still existed in the modern era. But it wasn’t for me to say. I was lucky to not be fired and I wasn’t about to complain about a demotion from my marketing position.
So I followed Norma around obediently, greeting various staff members including the guys who operated the copy machines to the in-house caterers who were whisking away a late breakfast of some type.
“Oh wow, the view here is beautiful,” I said, pausing at a floor-length window in the conference room.
“It is, isn’t it?” commented Norma. “Mr. Martin commissioned these windows because he wanted everyone to enjoy our location. He could have done tiny windows or no windows at all for a fraction of the cost, but he decided to go floor-to-ceiling instead,” she said.
That was the first mention of Nick and I pounced.
“Oh does Mr. Martin work on this floor?” I asked, as casually as possible. Inside my heart was thumping, my pussy automatically moistening at even the thought of the big man.
“Oh yes,” said Norma. “Luxor is headquartered here and Mr. Martin has his office just around the corner. He’s not here that often,” she confided, lowering her voice, “busy with meetings and such, but yes, this is his home base.”
And immediately my pulse began racing. I’d be working within spitting distance of Nick Martin? Seeing him every morning as he strode into the office, powerful and handsome in a dark suit? My heart began jackhammering at the opportunity, the chance to be around Nick.
But as we rounded the corner to Mr. Martin’s suite, my heart dropped. Because the most beautiful woman was sitting at a desk right outside the massive double doors, a woman with gleaming blonde hair effortlessly swept into an elegant updo, wearing a chic black dress that highlighted her slender figure, her long arms and legs.
Norma smiled.
“Hi Jeanette, this is Tammy our new typist,” she said by way of introduction. “Jeanette is Mr. Martin’s personal secretary, she handles all of his appointments, his bookings, his everything. If you need to get to Mr. Martin, you’ve got to go through Jeanette first,” she said with a wink.
And my heart dropped even further at that. Everyone knew that some secretaries were more like wives than employees and it certainly seemed like Jeanette fell into that category. The blonde was elegant, beautiful, with a charming smile and an air of sophistication. I felt dumpy and plain next to her, my curls a mess, my dress suddenly tight in all the wrong places, hopelessly frumpy and outdated.
“Hi,” said the blonde, extending a hand. Oh god, even her hand was perfect. Long, lean fingers surrounded mine, cool, almost cold, whereas my hand was fleshy and warm, my nails slightly bitten.
“Hi,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. “Nice meeting you.”
“If you need anything just let me know,” Jeanette said, her red lips curling into a fake smile. “I’ve been here two years already.”
And Norma nodded approvingly.
“Mr. Martin goes through secretaries like crazy, he’s very particular about who works for him. For Jeanette to be here two years means that you’re doing a very good job,” the old lady praised.
And Jeanette preened at the compliment.
“Thank you, I do my best,” she said with a smirk. “I’m organized, efficient, and I know just how Mr. Martin likes it. Exactly how,” she said with a wink.
That got Norma laughing.
“Young ladies these days!” she clucked, winking at the double meaning. As we moved away, she leaned in, whispering confidentially.
“If you ask me, Jeanette’s got her eye on the boss and if Nick Martin’s a real man, he’ll put a ring on her finger. After all, he couldn’t do better than her. Beautiful, efficient, sleek, sophisticated, who could ask for more?”
I nodded although my mind was whirring. Norma had just described what to me sounded like a computer or some kind of high-end iPad. Couldn’t Siri do all that with more feeling?
But I shook my head. I was a lowly typist, part of a pool of secretaries available to transcribe notes, type up labels, and file documents. I was lucky just to have a job, much less at a place like Luxor.
So my heart heavy with disappointment, I followed Norma down a hall, then down another hall and to the right. Before me was a sea of cubes, the walls about chin-high, a maze of repeating grey nylon. She led me to a cube on the far side and it was with a sigh of relief that I saw my old desk. The shabby metal frame was banged up and scratched, but everything else was intact, all the drawers closed.
I sat down in my chair and swiveled happily.
“Yep, this is my stuff,” I said gratefully.
The old lady smiled gently back.
“Well I’ll let you get settled then. It’s your first day, help yourself to supplies from the supply closet, and Tammy, the women’s restroom is right over there,” she gestured. Sure enough, the door was about ten feet from my cube. “You’re lucky and unlucky,” confided Norma. “This cube is so out of the way that hardly anyone uses that restroom, but on the other hand, yes, you can hear the toilets flush,” she added wryly.
I colored. Oh god, I had such a tangled past with the women’s restroom, did Norma know? But I scolded myself. There was no way the old lady could know, my masturbation incident had happened only yesterday and Mr. Martin wouldn’t confide in a receptionist.
So I pasted a bright smile on my face.
“Thanks, I’ll look you up if I have any more questions. And thank you again for the tour!” I chirped.
The elderly lady just smiled back and slowly scuffled off, her bent form disappearing as she rounded the corner.
Taking a deep breath I turned back to my cube. It was tiny and Spartan, to say the least. Grey cloth walls surrounded a desk and chair, with my old computer already plugged in. There was a banker’s box on the desk with a few of my belongings, my paper weight and some binders, as well as a photo of my mom and dad from long ago.
Slowly reaching a hand forward, I tested the handle to my desk drawer. Oh thank god. It was locked. Taking a deep breath, I shook myself, determined to start fresh, give myself an opportunity to succeed.
And flicking on the computer, I was able to log in, relieved to find that all my old passwords worked. I kept myself busy for a while, arranging my stuff in the new cube, re-reading the Employee Handbook, settling in when suddenly a new message flashed onto my screen. Clicking the icon, an email from Nick Smith popped up.
Come to my office, it said.
I frowned. Who the hell was Nick Smith?
But another email appeared right after it.
I’m waiting.
And I immediately blushed. Of course. Nick Smith was actually Nick Martin, Mr. CEO. He had more than one email account because it was very likely that his official account was handled and monitored by the beautiful and efficient Jeanette.
So I got up and straightened my dress, heart pumping. Slowly, I slipped my feet back into the violet pumps and made my way to Nick’s office, already feeling oddly warm and liquidy inside. Of course, his pretty secretary was waiting, staring at me like I was an alien and not a new employee who’d been introduced just an hour ago.
“I’m here to see Mr. Martin,” I said formally.
“I don’t have you on the schedule,” the blonde sneered. “Are you sure it was him?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Mr. Martin called me? I got an email from his shadow account, I can show it to you?
But an old-school buzzer rang on her desk and Nick’s disembodied voice floated out.
“Jeanette, could you send Ms. Jones in please? An
d pour us some coffee too, will you?”
I smiled victoriously then. Not only had Nick invited me to his office but Jeanette was going to be our waitress. If you asked me, it suited her perfectly, although the ugly frown on her face wouldn’t be getting her any brownie points.
But once inside Nick’s office, the blonde was all smiles, bowing and gracious.
“Oh Mr. Martin, I didn’t know you were expecting company,” she cooed. “Just a moment, here’s your coffee. You like it black, right?”
And Nick watched with a bemused expression, all elegant masculinity as the blonde poured the steaming liquid like a geisha, swift with a sure hand. But that sure hand lost its grip when it came to me. With a shriek and a small “whoops,” Jeannette managed to upset my cup so that the steaming brown liquid splashed all over my dress, leaving me with an ugly wet spot on the chest.
“Oh I’m so sorry!” she cooed again, “Here, let me help you,” she said taking a napkin and rubbing all over my bosom, forcing the stain into the fabric.
I grabbed her wrist tightly, holding it away from me.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I said tightly, my eyes shooting daggers at her. But Nick stepped in there before we got into an actual catfight.
“Jeanette, thank you so much, I’ll let Ms. Jones use my private bathroom to get cleaned up,” he said smoothly, his tone betraying nothing. And sure enough, there was a door to the side of his enormous office. “Ms. Jones, please,” he said nodding his head. “And Jeanette, thank you, I’ll be ready for my five o’clock soon.”
“Of course!” chirped the blonde. “I’ll let you know as soon as they’re here,” she warbled, elegantly walking out the door, coffee pot in hand.
Meanwhile, I was a dripping mess. I almost cried, the coffee already turning cold, the material sticking to my skin clammily. My purple sheath was ruined and I’d be out a pretty penny – it’d cost me a hundred bucks on sale at Nordstrom and I couldn’t afford to replace it.
“I … I guess I’ll just use your restroom and try and get some of this stain out,” I mumbled, looking at the floor.
But there was no reply from the big man, merely silence. I chanced a glance up and what greeted me took my breath away. Because Nick was staring at me like I belonged to him, hungry, ravenous, his eyes eating me up.
“Ms. Jones, we meet again,” he growled by way of introduction, prowling to my side of the room. And immediately, my nerves went into overdrive, my pussy moistening automatically.
“Yes, Mr. Martin,” I said in a small voice. “But I need to clean up. I paid a lot for this outfit and it’s done for,” I said in a small voice.
But Nick just growled again.
“I’ll get you a new one, two new ones,” he rumbled, his eyes going up and down my form, once, twice, three times, eating me up, lingering on my breasts and hips. “Take it off, it’s garbage now.”
And I gaped at him.
“But what am I going to wear?”
But Nick didn’t appear to hear, or care.
“Take it off,” he commanded, his gaze like fire on my breasts and ass. My cunt positively gushed under the heat of his stare.
“What?” I whispered. “Right here? In the middle of your office?”
Slowly he nodded.
“Take it off,” he rasped. “That’s the third time and I’m not going to say it again.”
And my cheeks flamed as the big man reached for a remote. Immediately the floor to ceiling windows tinted, growing dark, throwing us into shade. The overall effect was that we had privacy of sorts, away from the bright glare of day, cloaked in an intimate world where it was just me and him.
And mesmerized, I silently obeyed. Without breaking eye contact, I slowly undid the zip of my dress before edging the cap sleeves off my shoulders. The fabric fell away to reveal my décolletage and then dropped even further, revealing my luscious, creamy girls.
Because I hadn’t worn a bra that day. The stiff cotton of the dress was enough to hide protruding nipples and now my tips stood ramrod straight and perky, pointing at Nick as he devoured them with his eyes, my Double D’s huge, perfect teardrops.
But I wasn’t done yet. Slowly, I edged the dress over my hips, struggling because the fit was tight but finally the material dropped into a puddle on the floor and I stepped delicately out, clad now only in the sheerest purple panties and violet heels.
Sassily, I put my hands on my hips, cocking my waist to one side and whispered, “You like?”
And the big man was on me in an instant. His massive form was literally draped over mine in a second, his mouth hot on my own, his tongue thrusting into my mouth as his hands ran over my curves.
“Ohh,” I moaned. “Oh god.”
“Scream all you want, little girl,” he whispered into my ear. “The walls are solid oak, they can’t hear you outside.”
And I just creamed further, rubbing my naked body against his big one, the wool of his suit scratchy against my sensitive nipples, almost humping his leg with my cunny.
And the big man laughed deep in his throat again, pulling away slowly.
“Show me that slit,” he commanded.
I knew what he wanted. Oh so slowly, I dipped a finger between my legs and lifted the lace, pulling it to the side so that my pussy was bare. Just as expected, my lips were wet with desire, gleaming, my clit so hard and big that it poked out between my folds.
And just like before, the big man commanded me again.
“Show me your clit, all of it,” he rasped harshly.
Balancing against his big frame I leaned back and squatted a bit, widening my stance. With one hand I reached down to my naked pussy and put a finger on each labia, slowly pulling my pussy lips apart so that my gleaming channel was exposed, my little hole winking at the big man as my stiff clit stood up with pure need.
And this time, the big man touched me. But not with his hand. Instead, his belt was off in a flash and cock out, the entire ten inches hard with arousal, the vein on the bottom throbbing hungrily as the tip dripped. Without pausing, he brought his glans to my clit and slowly rubbed the tip of his dick against the bottom of my nub, massaging the bundle of nerves, making me throw my head back and moan.
“Oh god,” I cried breathily, my boobs heaving up and down. “Oh god, oh god!”
This was the closest I’d ever been to a man’s dick and it was pure heaven as he circled his tip around my bud, tracing circles around my sensitive nub before lightly running the purple head through my soft folds, wetting himself, getting his dick lubed up.
But just when I thought he was going to thrust into me, the fabric of my panties snapped back and a piece of plastic bounced off his penis.
“What the fuck?” the big man frowned, reaching one hand to fondle the fabric. “What the fuck is this?”
Because when I said I’m a wicked girl, I meant it. I’d put on a special pair of panties this morning, one that had a vibrator embedded in the crotch. The little plastic motor was sewn right into the lace and I could turn it on and off with a remote.
“I … I … was planning to dump my box of toys, so I needed something to play with,” I said in a begging tone, my eyes pleading with him to understand. “I was going to get rid of everything,” I rushed, “and this was just a bit of relief to get me through the day, I haven’t even used it yet,” I babbled. Oh god. I’d been caught red-handed again, first with my toy chest and now with vibrating panties. WTF was wrong with me?
But I’d completely misjudged Nick’s reaction. Instead of freaking out or kicking me to the curb (which he’d be completely justified in doing), instead he eyed my curvy body hungrily before coming to a decision.
“Take it off,” he ground out, his eyes never leaving me.
And trembling, I obeyed, stepping delicately out of the lacy lingerie and dropping it into his big, outstretched hand. Now I was completely nude save for my high heels, my big breasts bouncing to and fro, nipples erect, a smear of juice on my thighs.
But Nick wa
s intent on taking his sweet time. Curiously he studied the lacy fabric, the butterfly-shaped insert at the crotch. Slowly, he brought it up to his nose and sniffed deeply, his eyes closing as he inhaled my female musk.
And fuck, were my eyes deceiving me or had he just licked the crotch too, tasting some of my nectar on the fabric? I gushed again, my insides dissolving, this time the smear on my thighs becoming a steady flow of female cream.
But Nick had a plan. His eyes flicked open and he stared at me hungrily, blue eyes penetrating, taking in every inch of my boobs, ass and pink pussy.
“Get on the couch,” he commanded, his voice raspy and deep. “On your knees.”
And with shaking legs I obeyed, my nude form open for his gaze, his touch. Slowly, oh so slowly, he reached for my phone and flicked through various applications to find the app named “Pussy Pleasure.” Oh god, why hadn’t the manufacturer named it something else? Something less obvious? But Nick’s big fingers were clever and in an instant, the motor in my panties began to hum, the scrap of lace vibrating in his hand.
And swiftly, he reached between my legs and pressed it straight onto my clit, teasing me with it, rubbing it in circles, pushing my body to incredible heights.
“Oh!” I squealed as my hips twisted, my cunt practically gushing liquid now. “Oh oh oh!”
But Nick held me tight with his other arm around my waist, his chest pressed to my back as he vibrated my clit.
“That’s right,” he whispered harshly into my ear. “You’re such a dirty slut, such a wicked, wicked girl. Wearing vibrating panties on your first day at work? Who do you think you are? My fuck toy? My fuck doll?”
And the nasty words made me cream even more, made me act like a wanton slut instead of the naïve virgin I actually was.
“Yes,” I gasped. “Yes, use my body, I’m your fuck doll,” I affirmed, panting. “Use me, use me.”
And that caused the big man to grind the vibrator into my cunt harder, his breathing raspy against my neck as I trembled and shrieked below him. It felt so good, electricity tingling throughout my form, shivers running to my fingers and toes as my pussy clenched and spasmed, the sensations overwhelming. And just when the tidal wave was cresting, the big man shocked me, threw me a curve ball. He shoved a finger into my butt as he vibrated my clit, pushing his index finger up to the first knuckle, exploring that tight ring, my private dryness.
Tie Me Up Daddy Page 30
