Then she heard a woman’s voice behind her.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there was anybody…oh!”
In shock, Kristin snapped her head back, releasing Shepard’s penis with an audible plopping sound, whilst simultaneously banging her head on the underside of the desk. At that precise moment, Shepard ejaculated, sending a stream of white cum into Kristin’s face. He emitted a long, shuddering grunt and Kristin heard the woman exclaim, “Good Lord!”
Panic-stricken, Kristin backed out from under the desk and whirled around. Still prone, and with a glob of Shepard’s viscid semen hanging from her chin, she looked up, straight into the face of Deborah Francis, the chief accountant and a fellow member of her tennis club.
For an endless second they held eye contact and then Deborah stammered, “I’m sorry! Excuse me. I’ll…ah…I’ll just be going…”
As Deborah backed out of the door, Kristin scampered frantically behind the desk. She could hear Shepard chuckling quietly and her shoulders slumped in mortification. Deborah will tell everyone, she thought despairingly. By the end of the day, the whole of OFS Software will be buzzing with the news of how Kristin Hartman, the vice president, was caught giving Henry Shepard a blow job under his desk.
Chapter Seventeen
As they entered O’Rourke’s Irish Pub, Henry recalled that he had once, in a former life, invited Kristin out to lunch here. The manner in which she had brushed him off so slickly in front of his colleagues had left him cringing with embarrassment for days.
He was well aware that the Kristin Hartman of old would never have stooped so low as to patronize a common establishment such as this. But his systematic dismantling of her reputation was gathering momentum. He had deliberately led her through the open plan office on their way out to lunch, and from the incredulous stares that they had drawn, Henry concluded that he and Kristin were now already being considered as something an ‘item’.
O’Rourke’s was teeming with lunchtime trade. It was actually a very homely and animated place, where Henry was well known. As he guided Kristin though the throng towards a corner table, he reveled in the admiring glances she was receiving. For her part, Kristin had a look of utter desolation on her face.
Once seated, a chubby barmaid, whose name Henry could never remember, took their orders. Conscious of the fact that he had allowed Kristin very little to eat all weekend, he ordered two bowls of pea and ham soup. But, as always, there had to be a twist.
“Please serve one bowl cold,” he instructed the barmaid pleasantly.
She blinked at him.
“Cold?”
“Yes please,” Henry replied. “It’s a medical thing.”
“Okay, you’re the customer. Drinks?”
“I’ll take a Guinness. And a double gin and tonic for her.”
The barmaid briefly registered a look of disapproval at the offhand way in which he was treating Kristin, but went to fetch their drinks without further comment.
“Master?” Kristin said. “I can’t drink.”
“You can’t, or you won’t?” Henry asked. “Remember that you are already in line for a punishment session when we get home.”
“I don’t drink, Master,” Kristin protested. “I never have.”
“It’s time you came down off your perch and lived a little,” Henry admonished. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a little liquid lunch before we tackle the Motoko situation. It will help you to think clearly.”
“Please, Master,” Kristin whined, sounding increasingly apprehensive. “I never touch alcohol.”
“I know that,” Henry said. “You like to keep your faculties under control, don’t you? Well, get ready for another new and exciting experience in your life.”
The barmaid returned with their drinks and Henry lifted his glass.
“To our new partnership at OFS Software.”
Kristin sat motionlessly staring at her drink.
“The more disrespectful you are now, the worse your evening is going to become,” Henry said menacingly. “Drink.”
Kristin raised the glass to her lips, took a tiny sip, and grimaced.
“I expect you to have drunk all of that before I finish my beer,” Henry said.
While he watched her tentatively negotiate her unwanted drink, Henry cast his mind back to the sexual episode they’d just had in his new office. Unlike the previous evening when he had physically pressured her into oral sex, this morning she had been the one to initiate proceedings. Admittedly, she didn’t want to do it, but the actual act of fellatio, the pursing of her lips, the movement of her head, the sucking and licking, had been all hers. And if that really was only her second attempt, then she was a quick learner. Although there was much to do beforehand, Henry found that he was constantly thinking ahead to the moment when he would finally plant his cock inside her sweet, tight cunt.
Their soup arrived, Henry’s steaming and appetizing, Kristin’s, an unheated, clammy goo.
“Another gin and tonic,” Henry informed the barmaid.
Henry tucked into his soup as Kristin drained her glass, dry-retched and then picked up her spoon.
“You’d better eat it all up,” he said. “That’s all you’re having today.”
Kristin’s second gin and tonic arrived and Henry ordered her to down it in one, which to his surprise, she did.
“One more for her,” he said to the barmaid.
“Are you sure?” she asked, eyeing Kristin, who was already looking a little wobbly.
“We’re celebrating,” said Henry.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Kristin’s moving in with me.”
“You’re his girlfriend?” the barmaid asked Kristin incredulously.
Kristin spooned some cold soup into her mouth and hiccupped.
“I know,” Henry said. “I still can’t believe my good luck.”
The barmaid shook her head and departed.
Henry observed Kristin as she tucked into her unsavory meal. She was making good progress even though she could hardly be enjoying it. She must have been starving!
Her third gin came and again, Henry had her swallow it in one hit. She belched and dropped her spoon on the floor, causing heads to turn in their direction.
“Pick it up,” Henry instructed.
Kristin leaned under the table, groping for the spoon. Unable to locate it, she dropped onto her hands and knees, unwittingly exposing a glimpse of her panties to the onlookers.
Henry summoned the barmaid.
“We’ll take one more gin, and the check, please,” he said.
“Where’s your ‘girlfriend’?” the barmaid asked him.
Henry poked his thumb downwards and the barmaid cocked her head. Kristin, clutching the spoon, emerged from under the table and rose unsteadily.
“Are you okay, dear?” the barmaid asked.
“Yessh,” Kristin slurred, holding up the spoon. “I found it.”
“I’ll get you a clean one,” the barmaid said.
“No need,” said Henry. “Just bring us another drink.”
Kristin flopped back onto the seat and stabbed the spoon into her soup bowl. Henry watched with a twinkle in his eye as Kristin raised the spoon, missed her mouth and poured the soup into her cleavage. She looked at him apologetically.
“Come here,” he said, and Kristin sat impassively as he unbuttoned her shirt, exposing her lacy black bra. Then he took a napkin and patted at the green stain between her breasts. To Henry’s extreme satisfaction, a group of young male office workers stopped talking and gaped at Kristin’s shapely bosom.
Kristin looked unfazed, for a change, and Henry realized that she must be well and truly sozzled. He buttoned her up as her fourth gin arrived and Henry paid the check using cash he had taken from Kristin’s purse.
“You be sure to take care of her,” the barmaid said.
“Don’t you worry,” Henry assured her. �
�I have no intention of letting her out of my sight.”
Kristin made another attempt at the soup, gripping the spoon like a baby. Henry pushed the bowl away and pried the spoon from her hand. He raised the glass to her lips and she blinked at it, her head bobbing gently.
“One last drink,” he said. “Then we have our meeting with Brian.”
He rested the rim of the glass on her lower lip, tilted it, and with difficulty, Kristin managed to get it all down.
She puffed her cheeks out and looked at him with misty eyes. Henry had never seen her looking so adorable.
They made the short walk back to the office with Kristin swaying, but the crisp winter air helping to keep her cognizant.
In the lobby, George was eating a sandwich and reading a magazine.
“Hey,” he said. “I heard that it went okay with the big boss. Welcome back.”
“Come on,” Henry joked. “How would you guys ever get along without me?”
George eyed Kristin, wobbling on her heels as she waited on the far side of the lobby.
“I heard a couple of other things, too,” he said in a low voice. “Have you really got something going with Miss Hartman?”
“Wow, news travels fast!” Henry replied smugly.
“You lucky dog,” George grinned. “How in the hell did you pull that off?”
“Women are strange creatures. I guess all her hostility was just suppressed desire.”
“Yeah right,” George said. “So tell me, are you getting any… you know?”
Henry just winked at him.
“Damn,” George said. “No disrespect to you, but what wouldn’t I give to get a piece of that ass?”
Henry regarded him a moment.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “What are doing tomorrow night?”
“Nothing,” George replied, puzzled. “Why?”
“Come to the house. Kristin will be there.”
“And… what?” George said, trying to process the implications of Henry’s words.
Henry held his gaze and George’s jaw dropped.
“You’d let me fuck her?”
“Whatever you want to do to her, old buddy. The way she’s treated you in the past, I’d be thinking of a lot more than that.”
Still grappling with the intoxicating thought, George said, “Why would she allow me to do that?”
“She’ll do what I tell her to do,” said Henry simply.
George’s eyes narrowed.
“What have you done, you devious fox?”
Henry tapped the side of his nose.
“Never you mind,” he said. “Do me a favor and keep this between us. Tomorrow night?”
“Hell, yeah. You’ve got yourself a date!”
Leaving the bemused and elated doorman, Henry led Kristin into the office. If they had been a point of interest before, the sight of Henry holding Kristin upright as she crashed into desks and chairs, now brought the office to a standstill.
They reached Brian’s office where the CEO, oblivious to Kristin’s condition, was keen to get started.
“Let’s sit around the coffee table,” he said. “I’ve got everything set up on my laptop.”
Without speaking, Kristin lurched awkwardly past him and dropped heavily into an armchair. Brian looked inquiringly at Henry, who shrugged.
“Well,” he said, once they were all seated. “The first area that needs to be addressed is the inventory control module…”
“I have to use the bathroom,” Kristin interrupted.
Brian seemed taken aback at her bluntness.
“Well of course, Kristin. Go ahead,” he said.
Kristin stayed put and turned towards Henry.
“Be quick about it,” Henry said. “We’ve got a lot to cover.”
Brian looked from one to the other in bewilderment. Henry could only imagine what he must be thinking.
Kristin got up uncertainly and tottered over to the bathroom.
“Has she been drinking?” Brian whispered.
“Smells like it,” Henry said.
“My goodness. I’ve never known her to touch a drop.”
“I guess you never really know people,” Henry replied.
Henry glanced at the bathroom door, which in her haste, Kristin had neglected to close. As they listened to the echoing sound of Kristin’s urination, Henry couldn’t decide whether the expression on Brian’s face was one of embarrassment or titillation.
When she emerged, Kristin’s cheeks were flushed and she hadn’t tucked her blouse in.
“Shorry,” she said thickly, whilst making a concentrated attempt to walk in a straight line. Her efforts were in vain however, because half way across, her feet became tangled and she dropped onto her knees.
Brian and Henry jumped up and together they guided her over to one of the armchairs where she slumped back and closed her eyes.
“Perhaps you would fetch Kristin a glass of water?” Brian asked Henry.
As he went over to the mini-bar, Henry observed that Kristin had allowed her knees to part, and her miniskirt had ridden up, affording Brian a generous view of her crotch.
Henry held the glass to Kristin’s lips and she sucked on it clumsily, letting the water dribble down her chin.
“Kristin, are you feeling alright?” Brian asked with genuine concern.
Kristin mumbled incoherently.
“May I make a suggestion?” Henry said.
Brain looked at him.
“I think she needs to sleep it off,” Henry continued. “Why don’t we lay her on the couch and then we can continue on our own. She’s not going to be any use to us like this.”
Brian agreed and they maneuvered Kristin over to the couch, laying her on her side. Henry removed her shoes and placed a cushion under her head and within seconds she was asleep. Stretched out beside them, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, Henry thought she was pretty as a picture.
For the next two hours, Brian and Henry went over the salient points of the meeting while Kristin slept like a baby. Henry found it hard to concentrate with this sleeping beauty in close proximity and so too, he observed, did Brian. In fact, he was stealing a lot more furtive looks at her shapely curves than Henry was. That planted the seed of an idea in Henry’s mind, which would become another unfolding chapter in the rapidly collapsing world of Kristin Hartman.
Chapter Eighteen
Sitting in the passenger seat of her Outlander, Kristin felt absolutely terrible. She had never experienced a hangover before and she never wanted to again. Her temples throbbed, her mouth was dry and tasted of gin, and she felt slightly queasy. Every time Shepard turned a corner, she felt like throwing up.
She had woken on Brian’s couch at four o’clock with very little recollection of what had happened. Brian had gently informed her that she had slept the afternoon away, and while he didn’t appear angry, the look on his face displayed more than a little concern at his vice president’s surprisingly inappropriate behavior.
She had missed Brian’s briefing entirely, which meant Shepard was way ahead of her regarding the Motoko situation. Worse still, she had lost her opportunity to formulate any kind of an escape plan. Furiously, she now understood why Shepard had forced her to get drunk. Not satisfied with merely being reinstated, he wanted Brian to lose his faith in her, in order to make himself look better. He was still obviously after her job.
Shepard pulled up outside his house and they went inside. In the hallway, he took the leather slave collar from the hook where he had left it and once again fastened it around Kristin’s neck.
Then he said, “Go upstairs and take off all your clothes, put on your slave shoes and come back down to the living room.”
Kristin hesitated, unsure if she’d heard him correctly.
“Did Master say, all of my clothes?” she asked.
‘I did. Just your shoes and the collar. That’s all my slave needs to wear aro
und the house.”
His eyes twinkled as he spoke, reveling in the moment as she digested what he had just said.
“Did Master mean for me to wear the g-string?” she tried hopefully.
“No, I did not. And for your impudence, you’ve just earned yourself two strokes of the cane.”
She really wanted to plead with him but the thought of that wretched cane made her keep her mouth shut. She went upstairs and slipped out of the blouse and skirt and then peeled off the bra and panties. There were red lines on her breasts and around her hips where the tiny garments had bitten into her skin. She buckled herself into the six-inch heels and then stood, catching sight of herself in the mirror.
She gazed at her nude image sadly, and for the first time, she really did feel like a slave. Her eyes dropped to the thin downy triangle between her legs. In a few moments, he was going to breach the last bastion of her defense. For three days he had been systematically undressing her and she had naively held on to a futile optimism that for some unexplained reason, he would spare her ultimate modesty.
Wrong again, she thought. He’s been making himself wait, to savor the moment.
Perched on her high-heels, Kristin forlornly tottered downstairs and, effectively naked, entered the living room. She had already figuratively yielded her breasts to him, but in a final act of defiance, she clasped her hands together over her mound.
“What is the slave’s fixed position?” Shepard asked.
Looking up at the ceiling, Kristin inhaled deeply, raised her arms, and clasped her hands behind her head.
“Look at me.”
Her lips quivering, Kristin turned her eyes towards him.
“You have a very trim bush,” he remarked. “Do you manicure it?”
Kristin took another deep breath. No man had ever dared to ask her such personal questions.
“No, Master,” she answered.
“Well,” Shepard nodded appreciatively. “I think this a most suitable attire for you as you carry out your tasks.”
Attire? she thought. I’m naked!
“Now before we put you through your paces, you’ve got to receive your two strokes. Go fetch the cane from the cabinet.”
Kristin's Demotion Page 12
