Cassandra Ch. 02

Slowly, lovingly, Mistress began laying on the lash. She kept an irregular rhythm, whipping different areas each time, that I not know when or where the next lash would fall. She stopped at intervals, fondled my breasts, my clitty, my sizzling assflesh, whispering a stream of obscenities in my ear.

"Does it feel good, Slut? Are you getting turned on? Too bad you can't see all the men watching you, lusting for you. Every, single one has a hard-on! Do you like that, Cunt? Does it excite you to know that all those men want your hot ass, want to fuck the Cunt with the big boobs, want to thrust their meat into your ass and pump and pump and pump until they flood your tush with their jism? Would you like that, Pussy-Boy? I bet you would. I bet you want nothing more than to do every man here. I think I will set you up in a conference room after we're done here. I'll have all the men come in, one by one, and fuck your mouth, fuck your punk ass, fill you up with their jism. And you know what? You will take it all and LOVE it like the good little whore you are -won't you?"

I came, thrashing and screaming like a madwoman. Mistress pressed against me, caressing my tingling flesh, cooing softly in my ear.

When I had recovered my senses, Mistress released me from the rack, re-clipped my wrists to my corset and re-attached my hobble chain. She led me from group to group, sipping champagne (pouring mine for me), conversing with everyone, encouraging them to fondle my body and examine even my most private parts. Even my girlfriends caressed me lovingly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them. Mistress let everyone know I was theirs for the having, in any way they wanted me.

And want me, they did. The Executive Conference Room became my "boudoir". I think I did just about every man in the company - and many of the women. The positions became a blur; kneeling before one man and sucking him off, bending over the conference table to take another deep inside me, leaning over Grace - who was lying on the conference table - and eating her to a thundering orgasm, climbing on top of a man in the same position and riding him to release. People would come and go freely, watching the unbelievable sex show unfolding before their eyes. I knew no shame; at last, I was free to reveal the wanton slut I was, in all my debauched glory!

No, I didn't win a prize. Nine people - my eight girlfriends and Grace - had guessed that I would be costumed as Mistress's slut-slave. I don't think any of them had guessed the extent of my depravity until they actually witnessed it with their own eyes. Even so, I won the best prize of the evening. After all the other prizes had been awarded, Grace motioned for silence and spoke:

"On behalf of everyone here at Barnes and Bidwell, I want to offer our sincere thanks to the 'entertainment committee'..."

The room exploded in laughter.

"...for their unusual and highly-creative show. This party is certainly one for the books - and if ANYONE breathes a word of this outside this office, they will be fired on the spot!"

More laughter.

"And now for a more serious note. As everyone knows, Debbie will return from maternity leave on Monday. All things must pass, and we must bid a fond farewell to our 'temp' here. But I would be a candidate for 'early retirement' if I threw away the talents of someone we have come to know - and love - so well."

This time, the laughter shook the walls.

"I have to admit I was skeptical when Gwen first approached me about hiring Cassandra. There had already been tension among some of you regarding Matt Monroe. Although I hated the thought of losing his services, his departure was inevitable. I fully expected the subsequent appearance of 'Cassandra' to be an even more disruptive influence. But we were in a bind with Debbie's sudden departure and Gwen was persistent. I was at least willing to give it a try for a little while, to see how things went.

I wasn't prepared for the exquisite young woman I met at the door that first morning. I daresay that, until this night, many of you had no idea - and still can't believe it. In the past three months, Cassandra has proven herself to be capable, efficient, and personable; a real asset to our company. All the women in the company adore her, and the men - well, it seems she has, in her own way, single-handedly wiped out sexual harassment in our workplace. Our productivity is at an all-time high. In addition, she not only prevented two major accounts from canceling their contracts, she is largely responsible for the acquisition of three others.

The Home Office has rewarded me with a Vice-Presidency for our outstanding performance this year, and I intend to give credit where credit is due. I am hiring Cassandra as a permanent employee. Beginning Monday, she will report to Gwen in Human Resources. I am creating a new position for her, that of 'Special Assistant for Business and Office Operations'. It sounds like a mouthful and, to be honest, we haven't quite , er, fleshed out her official job description. I don't doubt for a moment that Cassandra will find her place - and throw herself into her duties with enthusiasm!"

So my dream job - and life - WILL go on. Grace was right; "Special Assistant for Business and Office Operations" IS a mouthful. How appropriate for a girl like me. No one in the office refers to me as the "Office Slut" - at least, not openly. I would not be offended if they did. It is what I am and I am beyond shame.

After eight sessions with Michelle, Melissa has informed me that she is satisfied with my development - at least for now. I can never be sure with Melissa. I am proud of my 44FF-22-38 figure. I wear custom-made underwire shelf bras that cradle my spectacular breasts and lift them high up on my chest - that is, unless I want even more drama and go braless. My wide hips undulate suggestively. It has become a completely natural motion, as if they had a mind of their own.

I am cinched into heavily-boned corsets twenty-four hours a day - an absolute must to relieve the pressure on my back caused by my massive tits and six-inch heels. I have the most fantastic wardrobe of the tightest, sexiest, most revealing dresses, skirts, blouses, and business suits, all specially tailored to make the most of my ultra-womanly figure. Some - especially the suits with longer, snug-fitting skirts - are designed with Velcro closures, just like a stripper's costume! That makes them so easy to get in and out of - an absolute MUST in my position.

I have my own office in a quiet corner of Human Resources. I have a beautiful desk, plants, artwork on the walls, and a large, comfy, padded leather couch. Grace gave me my own secretary so I can keep my long, lovely nails salon-perfect. It seems I am always "In Conference" and not to be disturbed - either with an employee who "needs to take the edge off" or a client (current or potential) who requires a little "nudge" to close a big contract. I can be VERY persuasive!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is semi-autobiographical. Melissa does exist, under a different name and vocation. The details of our meeting, college affair and respective emotional 'baggage' are accurate. So, too, are the details of that first intimate dinner in her apartment when we met again. The rest, Dear Reader, I will leave to your imagination...