LITMIR.BIZ

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gave a little proprietorial nod when he’d finished, as if pleased with the quality of an acquisition. I returned a bland smile, hiding my true emotions, which were flickering between disdain and a need to be pushed down to my knees and held by my hair as he fed his cock into my mouth. He merely gave me his usual, very formal greeting.

      ‘Miss Salisbury.’

      ‘Mr Scott.’

      ‘Do you have the presentation ready?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      As the lift descended he began to outline his strategy for the meeting, but I knew it already and only pretended to listen while allowing myself a little fantasy. He was big and dark, with a rough edge thinly concealed beneath the veneer of sophistication. Thirty, maybe forty years before, he’d have been the sort of boss who made me sit on his knee and fondled my bottom as I took dictation, maybe even made me go down on him under the desk, or, better still, made me go down on our clients in order to improve our chances of getting a contract. Not that I thought he would ever actually behave like that, and nor did I want him to, but a fantasy is a fantasy and it’s easy to concentrate on the good bits and forget about the drawbacks.

      He was still talking as we entered the conference room. A couple of the girls were laying out pens and paper on the table, a near-obsolete practice when everybody seemed to come loaded with gadgetry, but we were very traditional. Both hurried to finish and one, Stacey Atkinson, even apologised as she left, but the look she gave me was anything but contrite, more venomous. I gave her what I hoped was a sympathetic smile, although I knew it was hopeless. As far as they were concerned, I was the enemy, and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it. Mr Scott didn’t even notice, as he walked briskly to the head of the table and picked up the control for the huge screen at the far end of the room.

      ‘They’re very keen on efficiency, Miss Salisbury, so I want this to run smoothly. Every detail counts, right down to having the coffee ready next door at precisely eleven o’clock, while …’

      He carried on, but again I knew every detail of what had become a familiar routine. I had imagined the job would be challenging, but it was really just a matter of common sense and making sure everybody did what they were supposed to at the right time. A quarter-hour of bustle and polite greetings for the half-dozen Chinese businessmen who were our clients for the day and Mr Scott was firmly in command of proceedings, allowing my imagination to wander once more.

      I’d often wondered how business meetings could be spiced up, simply by being a little less stuffy and a little more imaginative. It wouldn’t even be necessary to dispense with the formality we set so much store by, and if it was always good business sense to keep your clients happy, then why not happier still? I could imagine how it would go, two hours of intense discussion as we hammered out the issues of rights to a vast Australian copper mine which no more than two or three people in the room had ever visited, and then Mr Scott would rise to his feet and indicate the door at the far end of the room as he addressed them in his old-fashioned BBC English. ‘And now, gentlemen, if you’d care to come through into the refreshment area, tea and coffee are available, while Miss Salisbury will be very happy to provide oral sex.’

      They’d all want a go. In fact, they’d consider it impolite to refuse. So in I’d go, to the discreet little cubicle set aside for the purpose, with a single comfortable chair and a mat on the floor for me to kneel on. They’d come in to me one by one, in strict order of precedence, all very polite and friendly, but without the slightest hesitation for what they were making me do as they pulled out their cocks and balls for the attention of my mouth.

      At the beginning I’d be ever so smart, kneeling in my stockings and heels, my perfectly ironed jacket and skirt, my crisp blouse, perhaps with a couple of buttons undone to hint at my expensive underwear, but no more. The Chinese Chairman would be first, and he would ask politely if he could fondle my breasts as I sucked his cock. It would be unthinkable to refuse, and I’d know he meant bare, so my blouse would come open and my bra would come up, to allow him to paw my flesh and rub at my nipples as I gave him his blow job and swallowed what he did in my mouth.

      The first of the two Vice-Chairmen would find me shame-faced and flustered, my boobs still out and my hair in disarray, but that would only make him keener. He’d want more as well, to rub his cock between my tits and have me lick his balls, and, again, I’d be too polite to refuse. The next man would be eager and clumsy, dirty too, tugging his cock into my mouth as I sucked, then pulling my head back at the last moment so that he could watch as he did his business in my open mouth before making me swallow.

      By then I’d be too turned on to hold back, despite being bitterly ashamed of myself. I’d pull up my skirt and stick my hand down my knickers, fiddling with myself as I waited for the fourth man to come in. He’d take full advantage, not only making me suck his cock but then bending me over the chair to pull down my knickers and enter me from behind. I’d be more than willing, sticking my bottom up like a she-cat on heat and rubbing myself while he fucked me.

      I’d come with him inside me, so by the time he’d finished I’d be left slumped over the chair, sticky with spunk and sweat, well used at both ends. That wouldn’t stop the last two men from the Chinese delegation, the first delighted by the state I was in and making full use of my cunt and mouth, the second disgusted and merely tugging his cock off all over my bare bottom. That would leave all six clients entertained, but Mr Scott and the others from our company would take advantage of me, coming in and making me suck their cocks, fucking me, touching me how they pleased, before finishing off in my face or up my cunt. They’d leave me on my back, masturbating, and as the last man closed the door behind him he’d tell me I ought to be ashamed of myself for my behaviour. At that I’d come, just as the catering staff returned to clear up after lunch, so that they found me on the floor with my legs spread wide and my tits out, my face filthy with spunk and my fingers busy with my sticky cunt.

      Just thinking about it was making me shake and I was forced to prescribe myself a strong dose of reality in order to calm down, by paying attention to Mr Scott’s presentation for a while. He was my boss, attractive after his fashion, and I do like fantasies of being under male control, but there was something about him that always brought me down to earth. I could never put my finger on it, but, where with most men the jump between fantasy and reality can come with a tugged-down zip, I couldn’t see Mr Scott letting me do the tugging.

      Nobody had noticed the state I was in, but I could feel the wet between my thighs and couldn’t help but wonder if they could smell my excitement, which made me feel even more ashamed of myself and even more excited. I was going stir crazy, and I was going to have to do something about it, and soon.

      Chapter Two

      What I needed was cock, but the trouble with cock is that it comes attached to men, generally. Men talk, and in the case of company men there’s nothing guaranteed to get them talking faster and in more lurid detail than the conquest of their boss’s PA, which was how they were going to see the encounter. Several of them had asked me out, some of them very attractive, but I’d turned them all down. That had given me the reputation of a stuck-up ice-maiden who thought she was too good to be seen with the plebeians, but that wasn’t it at all.

      The truth was that I didn’t dare accept, because I knew what would happen if I did. I’d let myself go, even if I spent the evening drinking nothing but mineral water, and the consequences would be disastrous. Maybe I’d find a man who could handle me, more likely not, but the chances of finding one who could keep his mouth shut about the way I behaved when I was turned on were close to zero. It had happened before, and just to think about it was enough to bring the blood to my cheeks and make my tummy go tight.

      I’d come up to university full of excitement and anticipation, but also very naive. A childhood as the only daughter of the ambassador to an Arab state hadn’t been much use as training for life as anything else. My education had been expensive and single-sex, finishing at a sixth-form institution so deep in the countryside that the sight of a man was unusual, while computer access was regulated with a vigour that made the average authoritarian regime look amateur. By the time I left

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