Caught Ch. 03

Story Info
Boss catches her in a compromising situation.
2.4k words
4.34
59.2k
13

Part 3 of the 5 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 10/17/2013
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here
Ashson
Ashson
8,502 Followers

After I left school I took up an apprenticeship as a hairdresser and beautician. I've very nearly finished the apprenticeship and I'm quite good at what I do. The salon I work for has two rooms, apart from the main shop.

Up until recently most of my time has been spent in the main shop. This is where the standard customers come. They're the women who want a simple cut, a perm, wash and dry and cut, all the standard stuff. Being a rather exclusive salon we charge quite heavily. Mind you, the customers don't mind. Andre, the owner, swishes around, charming all the women and leaving their purses at his complete mercy. Not that he has any.

The two back rooms are for those who want special treatment and treatment there is expensive. (Not that treatment in the main shop is cheap.) We have one room for the men and one for the women. I'm now trusted enough to work in the back rooms. The women's rooms I'm under constant supervision but I occasionally get to work in the men's room unsupervised, though Andre will drop in every so often for a quick check. And I had better be damn sure I call him if I think there's going to be a problem. Some customers, you know. . .

Don't ever be taken in by the propaganda that women care more for their hair than men. Some of the men who pay for the special service are absolutely fanatical about their hair. I had one bloke trying to tell me that each hair should be dyed separately to ensure an even colouring. Him I referred to Andre.

(Andre explained to him that I was a mere apprentice and didn't really understand the nuances of dying, but he would show me. Then Andre did a standard dye job, leaving the customer happy that he'd got what he wanted.)

Now one evening I was working late. The main shop had shut and the doors were closed. Andre was finishing off a client in the woman's room while I had one last customer in the men's room. I'd barely started when Andre stuck his head in the door and told me he was finished and was going home. Make sure I locked up when I left. I nodded and kept going on what I was doing.

I was working on this guy and when I leant over at one stage I could have sworn I felt his hand stroke my bottom. I took a step back at glanced at him but his face was perfectly straight, looking completely indifferent. Deciding I must have imagined it I continued working, but I didn't imagine that second touch. I stepped back again.

"Excuse me, sir," I said politely. "I must ask you not to touch me while I work."

"I'm sorry," he said smiling, all charming politeness. "You're quite right. I shouldn't have done it, but your bottom is rather appealing and touchable. I'll try not to do it again."

Eh? Try not to? Not exactly a hands off promise, is it?

So I continued working and he kept his hands off my bottom.

Now, this might sound like a digression, but it's not. It's background material. Andre insists we all wear uniforms. The tops are lacy white blouses and we have short blue skirts. We have a little logo on the pocket of the blouse. Andre also likes the women to undo a couple of buttons on the blouse, giving the men a bit of cleavage, but not too much. We all look reasonable demure.

You will note that I said a couple of buttons. You can understand my righteous indignation when my customer stroked his finger along my cleavage. It wasn't the touch so much but the fact that he'd managed to slip open a couple of extra buttons without me even noticing. Not really too hard when you think about it. When I leaned forward the blouse would hang free and a gentle touch wouldn't be felt. The finger on my breast was I can tell you that.

I reared back, glaring at him, reaching up to do up the buttons again when he stopped me.

"Don't do that," he said softly. "You have lovely breasts and I like looking at them. Just leave your blouse the way it is and I swear I won't touch them."

Now strictly speaking I should have buttoned up and ordered him out of the shop with his hair not finished. The trouble is he was smiling sweetly and seemed so earnest and what woman doesn't mind being told she has nice breasts. I hesitated and he seemed to take that for acquiescence, folding his hands in his lap and smiling.

She who hesitates cuts hair with her blouse open, it seems. She also finds that she should have more sense than to trust a man. Did he touch my breasts? No. His hand went running lightly over my bottom again, this time with his hand under my skirt.

"Sir," I protested. "You said you wouldn't touch. Please stop it."

"I said I wouldn't touch your breasts," he pointed out. "I didn't say anything about not touching your bottom. It's soft and round and made for a man's hand."

As if to demonstrate he calmly slid his hand up my skirt and started stroking my bottom. It's pretty hard to put on a show of righteous indignation when you're standing in front of a man with your blouse gaping wide, showing off a frilly bra and your breasts. It occurred to me that he hadn't said he wouldn't undo any more buttons. Bit late to complain about that now.

"You'll have to stop," I managed to tell him. "Things like this are just not permitted in the salon. Please take your hand off my bottom."

"OK," he said with a soft sigh, and his hand slid down off my bottom. I nearly shrieked when he managed to stroke it across my mound while doing so.

"Sir!" I protested and he just laughed.

"Oh, stop complaining," he said, openly grinning at me. "You don't really mind or you'd have slapped me down the first time I touched you. Long before I did anything like this."

'This' was my panties sliding down. I'm like, "What the hell?" but he had them down around my knees and his hand was back up and touching me. I hastily pushed his hand away, blushing fiercely.

"You must stop this," I commanded. "You really must. I'm here to do your hair. That's all."

"It's hard to concentrate on my hair when these are pointing at me," he said, and his finger was gently stroking along my cleavage again.

"You said you wouldn't touch me there," I pointed out, finally having something to fasten my indignation upon.

"You're right and I'm sorry," he says. "Um, if you'll just excuse me. ."

With that he just reached behind me and flicked open the catch to my bra. One handed, he just found it and flicked and my bra was loose. I have more trouble undoing it. But with the bra loose he just lifted it up, freeing my breasts.

"I didn't say anything about not touching you here, did I?" he asked, and he was touching my nipples, rolling them around.

It's hard to make all the right protesting noises when someone is touching you up and you're enjoying it. There was something deliciously enjoyable at the way this guy was just ignoring my complaints and petting me. His hands would drift across my breasts and then go back to my bottom, drifting forward until he was stroking my pussy again.

It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn't made any attempt to pull my panties back up, something that I should be doing pretty quickly. I couldn't right then, because his hand was there, but as soon as he moved it, up they came.

He moved his hand all right, but instead of pulling up my panties I shuddered. I won't say exactly how he moved his hand, just that he should not have done that.

"Touch me," he said, and looking down I found that he'd unzipped and he had quite an impressive erection on display.

It occurred to me that if I didn't say something pretty quickly I would find myself being fucked, whether I agreed to it or not. Not that I was going to agree to it. At least I didn't think I was. Certainly not. We couldn't do that sort of thing in the shop. Andre would have a heart attack. So it didn't matter if he was kind of cute. There was no way I could agree. I was sure of it. Fairly sure anyway.

"Excuse me," I managed to say, speaking quite firmly to my surprise. "Your hair is finished and I will really have to ask you to pay for it and leave."

He laughed and let me go for a moment, reaching for his wallet. He took out some notes, folded them in half and tucked them in the pocket of my blouse.

"That will cover the treatment and a nice tip for you," he said. "You realise you haven't touched me yet."

He took my hand in his and was drawing it down to where his erection stood, a prize waiting to be claimed. What the hell was I to do? If I touched him he would take it as consent to fuck me and we both knew it.

"What the fuck is going on here?" screamed Andre.

I cringed and the customer was up out of the chair and bolting, trying to do himself up on the run. Andre came mincing over to me. I found myself turning to face him, hands fluttering, not knowing what to do.

He ran his eyes over me, taking it all in. Open blouse, bra above my breasts instead of neatly covering them, panties down around my knees.

"Lift your skirt," Andre said.

"What?" I couldn't have heard right.

"Lift your skirt," he repeated, speaking slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to someone stupid, which was how I was feeling right then.

I swallowed guiltily and lifted the front of my skirt, showing my boss everything. My face must have been a blaze of colour.

Andre moved towards me and I backed up. I couldn't back up far because of the hairdresser chair behind me, but I could sit on it and wriggle back a little. For some reason, when I did that, Andre got a real smirk on his face.

I found out the reason for that smirk fast enough. He just reached down and touched one of the controls and the back of the chair just tilted flat. I forgot they could do that. It's not a position we often use.

With the chair going flat I finished up flat on my back. Andre, to my intense surprise, was dropping his trousers, and his erection was every bit as large as my customers. Then he was on the chair with me, pushing my legs apart and mounting me.

In case you're wondering, yes, I do mean mounting in a sexual way. Andre simply pushed my legs apart, leaned over me, and pushed his cock into me without so much as a "May I?"

That guy, with his fooling around, had got me aroused. When Andre pushed into me I was all wet and slippery and he just zoomed right into me, his groin slapping against mine with a smacking sound.

What with all his swishing around and being a hairdresser I'd always thought that Andre was gay. No one had told Andre this. He knew exactly what his cock was for and was demonstrating that knowledge. He started driving into me at a ferocious rate, banging into me as if he'd gone without for years. All I could do was buck under him, trying to match his driving need.

I've never had sex go so fast before. That guy had got me all worked up and if I'd let him go ahead we probably would have had a nice little interlude. (Not that I would have let him. I mean, I didn't even know him.) The sudden switch from him to Andre and the sheer unexpectedness of having Andre jump me just left me completely bemused.

I was banging against him in a sort of stunned disbelief, while his cock was wreaking havoc within me. I could feel it there, sliding back and forth, the friction absolutely burning into me, the sheer excitement of being taken so unexpectedly and so hard just wrecking any chance I had of self-control.

It didn't go on for very long. It didn't need to. I found myself ready to climax in what seemed like no time at all, and I could hear myself gasping and squealing as Andre rode me, yelling at him to hurry. Hurry? Good god. I don't think he could have gone faster if you shot him full of pep pills.

Then I was simply clinging to him, gasping in shock as a climax hit me. Andre seemed to take that as encouragement and actually managed to drive in even harder for a few moments before shooting his load.

When I finally got myself together Andre was leaning against the wall, looking at.

"We are a salon," he told me. "We do hair. We do facials. We do hands and feet. We do not do more personal services for either the men or the women. Understand?"

What could I say? Nothing but, "Yes, Andre."

"I will overlook this one lapse, but do not let it happen again."

"No, Andre."

"If people thought they could get more personal services here we'd have all the wrong sort of customers. Our good name would be dragged down. This is not permitted. Understood?"

"Yes, Andre".

Not a word did he say about having just fucked me stupid and I didn't dare mention it. Satisfied that he'd made his point he ordered me to close up.

I did so. When I was putting the money for that last guy's haircut in the till I found that he'd tipped me two hundred dollars. Wasn't that nice of him? Especially as he didn't get what he thought he was tipping me for.

Ashson
Ashson
8,502 Followers
Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
1 Comments
JBEdwardsJBEdwardsover 5 years ago
She could have been cuaght twice

The big tipper could have pretended to leave, but stayed hidden to see what would happen. After he watched the goings on, and once Andre had left, well then he too might have enjoyed himself, maybe even increasing his tip.

Share this Story

READ MORE OF THIS SERIES

Caught Ch. 02 Previous Part
Caught Series Info

Similar Stories

Comforting My Neighbor's Daughter I fuck my innocent neighbor when she comes to me for comfort.in Mature
BabySitter BabySitter taken during the night.in NonConsent/Reluctance
Burglar Burglar finds someone inconveniently at home.in NonConsent/Reluctance
Wrongful Detention Student Teacher assigns a malicious detention.in NonConsent/Reluctance
Farmer's Daughter Her brattish ways were brought to a halt.in NonConsent/Reluctance
More Stories