Ragdoll Ch. 01

I sat alone in the reception area for a short time, fidgeting, studying my nails. I had shaped them myself, and they were still my natural nails. I had only visited the main staff salon once - to have my hair styled.

"He will see you now," the receptionist was calling over to me, her eyes indicating the door through which I should proceed. She offered a small smile of encouragement.

I stood, smoothed my dress about my hips and then, trying to appear calm, strode to the door, opened it, and stepped inside.

Director Brentwood sat behind his desk, about ten steps from the entryway.

"Come," he said. Just one word.

As I approached, he closed an ornate leather bound book and slid it off to one side. He glanced at it, then to me. "Some things are best not committed to the Net, don't you agree?"

I swallowed and nodded.

He stood then, gesturing to an impossibly large leather couch a short distance from his desk. "Sit," he directed.

I lowered myself gracefully onto the couch, guiding my dress with my hands as I did so such that it was properly arranged beneath my hips and bottom. I sat with my legs together at the knees, my hands crossed in my lap, and looked at him.

He rose and moved to stand in front of me. He was an imposing man, clothed in black slacks and a formal gray dress shirt which matched the color of his hair. His eyes were dark chocolate. A black tie completed the look.

I estimated he was in his middle forties, but he had taken excellent care of himself. I envisioned a private, very well outfitted exercise facility somewhere adjacent to this office.

He folded his arms across his chest. "First, all of this is not about you. It is about Chalis and what you will do for us - and for me." He paused. "Do you understand?" he asked.

"Yes Sir," I said.

He stepped closer and reached to tilt my chin upward forcing me to look at him, to allow him to look at me.

I simply watched him.

"I believe you do," he said. "If I tell you to be somewhere, you will be there. If I tell you to do something, you will do it. If I tell you to fuck someone, you will fuck them. When you are given an assignment with a client, you will normally be given a brief on what to expect. It is expected that you will do your utmost to accommodate your client's needs and desires." He narrowed his eyes. "Are we clear?" he asked.

"Yes Sir, Director Brentwood... I understand." He was the Dark King, and I his white pawn.

He watched me, and I continued to meet his gaze.

He reached to toy with one of my earrings. "I may call you 'Saint' Violet if you continue to dress like this," he said, and then continued, "I claim each new girl, her first time."

He had lowered his voice and I could see his desire now; not just in his eyes, but by an impressive stirring at the crotch of his belted, zippered slacks.

"I thought as much," I whispered.

I would help him, offer myself - show him how serious I was when I had answered yes to his questions moments past.

I imagined him watching me as I raised my hands to his waist and carefully unfastened his belt and then drew down his zipper. I gently pushed and pulled his slacks down around his knees. As I ran my delicate fingers against his underwear, along the outline of his cock, he pushed me backward, forcing me prone, my left side fully upon the couch, my right leg skewed off the edge, knee bent, the white heel of my shoe just touching the floor. He quickly pushed his black boxers down to his knees as well, freeing his swollen cock and balls. He was hard. I knew it could be almost painful - the need to be INSIDE - in this case, me. I could see his urgency.

He positioned himself between my partially splayed legs, his right knee now pressed to the couch, and then used both of his hands to push my dress up around my waist, revealing my white lace thong. As flimsy as this was, he simply pushed the fabric at my crotch aside, revealing me, my delicate nether lips, pink and vulnerable.

"My god..." he exclaimed in soft bass tones heavily laden with lust.

He slipped a finger beneath my chain and pulled it gently, tugging exquisitely upon my clit, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from me. I lifted my head and neck a little and looked at him poised there, his rigid cock surging with his racing pulse.

I drew my right leg up and followed it somewhat with my left, spreading myself open for him, offering what I could only offer one time in my life.

With this, he positioned himself to me, using his thumb and fingers to separate my inner lips. I am certain he felt my virginity with his probing touch, and then I felt the swollen head of him pushing slightly into me, finding the right place, pushing a little more... I was not yet fully ready for him but I knew that nothing could stop him now. He held himself there, his body straining, now supporting himself with his left arm, while with his right hand he reached and grasped my hair, behind my head, and held me with a strength that was now forever beyond me.

"Look at me," he said. "I want to see in your eyes when I open you."

I watched him expectantly. I wanted this, wanted the taking, wanted the hurt. I needed the affirmation of who and what I was now. "Then do it," I challenged softly.

With that, Brentwood groaned and thrust himself into me, forcing his throbbing cock into my depths, tearing my innocent veil, the full measure and weight of him in me and upon me.

"He's in me now... in my vagina, my - pussy. This is me now," I thought.

He lay still for just a moment, and then began to move. His hands gripped my hips and rear as he sought to position me perfectly for him. I felt no real pain or discomfort now, after the initial sharp hurt. In truth I felt just - fullness: natural, warm, inside me; yet I could not say that this caused me physical pleasure, not yet at least. My spirit wept with joy however, to be what I was, and this was of far more worth to me; so I wrapped my legs around his waist as best I could, and clung to him.

I felt a deep contentment as I lay there being fucked by this powerful, striking man, twenty-some years my senior, the heels of my shoes pointed to the ceiling and rocking irregularly as he pounded into me again and again and again. I had moistened enough to ease his thrusts now, and he took advantage of this by increasing the length of his strokes. I judged by his breaths that he would last but a brief time longer so I slid my hands down his sides and gently clasped his buttocks, and coaxed him as if pleading for him to give me more - and he did.

I knew it when he made a low throaty sound and thrust into me with unrestrained force and need; this happening quickly, six or seven times... and then I felt him ease, all of his weight now simply resting on me. I lay quiet, still, waiting... I could feel him begin to recede, and could feel a sticky warmth begin to seep, and suddenly he was gone. Removed from me, he rose, and for an instant just looked at me - into my light gray eyes, and then he frowned a little and turned away to draw his pants back up. I shifted to a sitting position on the couch now and deftly adjusted my thong, smoothing my dress back into place as best I could.

"You are dismissed," he said. "See yourself out."

I did.

I emerged from Brentwood's office feeling somewhat disheveled. I glanced toward the receptionist and waved my hand a little, seeking her attention. Fortunately, she looked up right away - I believe she had been watching. I offered her a pleading expression and mouthed silently, "restroom?"

She gave me knowing smile, not one of judgement but rather one of empathy. "Down that hall, then first left - you can't miss it," she said.

This time I spoke aloud but softly, "Thank you." I proceeded as she had indicated, somewhat self conscious, hoping I would make it in time before Brentwood's semen actually started to trickle down my leg. I did, but it was close.

I still felt a little flare of panic every time I went into a public restroom; like I was doing something wrong, but the feeling was fading with time. A trio of office workers passed me by just as I placed a hand to the door: two men and a woman, "thirty-somethings", all dressed in professional business attire. One of the men let his gaze linger on me for a moment - I knew the look, but then they were past and I was forgotten in a moment as brief as the encounter itself had been. I slipped inside and looked for an empty stall. It seemed there was only one other occupant and I chose a stall which was two down from hers. I untied my dress straps, then shimmied it up and over my head, draping it on the stall door hook. Everything bespoke of wealth and opulence and was immaculately clean.

I eased myself down onto the seat, sighing a breath of relief, and then I scooted my soiled thong down around my ankles and carefully extricated each of my shoes through the clingy lace. I draped it on a very elegant looking toilet paper dispenser. The shade of the paper was a pale lavender and carried a light floral scent - I felt it and it was luxuriously soft. I sat there, leaning forward a little, feeling rather undignified, my shoes slipping against the tiled floor when I moved my feet even a little. Exposure to the cool conditioned air inside the restroom had caused my nipples to firm and peak a little. I tended to myself...

When finished and dressed again, I slipped from the stall, holding my cum and blood-stained thong between thumb and fingertips. I pressed my lips, considering, but I had no clutch or purse with me, so I chose, in the moment, to simply drop it into the feminine hygiene products disposal. A rite of passage was complete.

~~~

I had fallen asleep in my bath. The bubbles were gone; the water now tepid. I rose and stepped carefully to the tiled floor, glancing at my naked form in the full length mirror beside my shower. I smiled whimsically thinking, "I have a lot of mirrors." I had a dancer's form, and I was very proud of it. It was early eve of the same day and as I reflected back upon events, the only thing that puzzled me was the slight frown I had seen Brentwood express toward me just before I was dismissed. I toweled myself dry and then slipped into a warm robe and sauntered my way out to the main room of my apartment.

The Netdisplay was flashing - I had a message from Brentwood in my inbox.

"Already?" I thought. I tapped it open and read:

' Need you at a meeting this eve. 21:00 (9 PM). My office - center court. Security will let you in. I'm sending outfit - wear it, and wear heavy makeup. Client is an important representative of a German pharmaceutical manufacturer we deal with. One of my lawyers offended someone there - now I have to kiss ass to fix it. You will not speak and will likely not be spoken to. You will enter and perform oral sex on the client and then remain attentive until you are dismissed. Under no circumstance are you to allow the client to be soiled by his seminal fluids - Assume you understand my meaning. - BW '

My display showed 19:21:38 - which meant I had just over an hour to get ready. My stomach fluttered a little, thinking of what lay ahead. I figured Brentwood would have my outfit delivered in the same way most of my things arrived. I had shopped exclusively on the Net to date, and stuff was just - delivered. We girls all had a sort of receiving table outside of our rooms and these were often laden with myriad boxes and bags and fluff. I opened my door and, behold, Brentwood was true to his word. There were two boxes.

~~~

An hour and some minutes later I checked myself in the full length mirror beside my closet. I was wearing a dark red stretch tube dress which clung to my every curve, matching red peep toe six inch high heel platform stiletto pumps, and designer pantyhose in a sexy espresso shade, sheer to waist. I loved the feel of the silky fabric taut against my skin and between my legs. I had applied a deep burgundy lipstick pencil to outline my lips, then filled them in with a cherry red, long wearing, transfer resistant matte lipstick. My eyes were made up with a line of dark orange red, blended to a pale tangerine on my lids, completed by another line of dark orange red just below my delicate milky white brows. I wore two small gold hoops and a simple gold stud in each of my ears. I pivoted and posed - the dress was so tight I could see my Venus dimples through the form fitting fabric. I ran my hands over my hips once, assessing, and then decided it was time to go.

A whimsical smile touched my lips as I made my way across the main courtyard to the Director's offices - I likened myself to a small pony clip-clopping across the cobblestones. I wobbled a few times as not only were these heels higher than any I had worn to date, but I was on 2 inch platforms as well. Thinking of what I would do, I cannot say that the thing itself excited me, but, the fact of who and what I was now, and that this was expected of me, did. I wondered if anyone else in the world might understand.

The night security guard buzzed me in and ogled me openly, with no attempt at discretion. I crossed my arms protectively, which seemed to annoy him, for his expression shifted and he waved with his hand toward Brentwood's office.

"Go in, and through his office. There's another door," was all he said.

I turned and made my way, feeling certain that his gaze was riveted to my ass every step of the way. I understood, but something about him had unsettled me. Soon enough, the door clicked closed behind me and he was forgotten, for now.

I could hear voices, and followed the sound. A door I had not noticed during my earlier visit was ajar, and the voices were coming from the other side. I paused, gathered myself, and then gently pushed at the door, admitting myself to what lay behind it. My eyes widened and I froze there for a moment, in surprised wonder. I stood in an alcove which opened onto a beautiful inner courtyard garden; a fountain at its center, with all manner of flora arranged about in large earth filled planters and vases. A cherub was posed atop the fountain, a constant stream of water from his penis arcing into the fountain's pool.

Brentwood cleared his throat and I snapped my gaze toward him, blushing a little though it was unlikely he could see this in the subdued lighting. He shifted his eyes and I took the hint, turning toward his business guest who was seated on a divan a little way from the edge of the fountain.

The guest, my - responsibility, in turn looked at me for a moment, took a sip from what looked like some expensive imported beer, and then returned his attention to Brentwood.

I judged him to be the same general age as Brentwood. His casual attire spoke to expensive tastes. He wore dark green khaki slacks and a white golf shirt with some sort of hiking boots on his feet. His hair was close cut, light brown, and he had striking blue eyes. The two men resumed speaking in a language that I knew was German yet understood not at all. It was not a language I had studied. I hovered, uncertain, then made way to the divan and lowered myself gracefully beside the German, to his right, then leaned against him just a little and placed my hand upon his upper arm - somewhat as if I were a possessive lover. I drew my legs up onto the divan, careful of my stilettos, and then I waited.

Eventually there was a lull in the dialog when Brentwood, seated in a chair opposite to where I lounged seductively against the German, and not far from where I had first entered, opened a portable Net unit onto on a small table before him and started to interact with it. When he looked up again a moment later and arched one brow at me almost imperceptibly - I knew it was my signal to begin.

I moved my right hand from the German's arm slowly, letting it play across his chest, paused, then continued a light caress downward until I found his waist, then groin. I gently cupped his cock and balls through the khaki, feeling a hint of what waited beneath. I leaned closer, lowering myself, bringing my head in line with his chest, and then fussed with delicate fingers until I found and freed the button at his waistband, and slowly tugged his zipper down. I became very intent now - I cannot say precisely what I felt, but, I was excited, and I wanted to do this. My heart was racing a little. A bit more fuss and play with my fingers freed his cock from the front opening of his boxers, and I played a first light stroke along the already swollen shaft. I marveled at how hard he was yet soft to touch. He was not circumcised as was the normal custom for European men, his glans just pushing forward from it's protective flesh. The pubic hair I could see was light brown and trimmed. His testicles were only partly visible, accessible, through the opening of his underwear. I dared to look at his eyes then, parting my dark red lips slightly, brushing the pink tip of my tongue seductively along pleasing pearl white teeth. I wanted him to believe that I wanted him, and, in some respect, I did.

I shifted, easing my slender legs sideways along the divan, settling myself in place against his right thigh and then I lowered myself to him, enclosing the tip of his cock with my lips, as if testing the flavor of a lollipop. After a teasing moment, I committed, slowly drawing him in, my head descending, cherry lips sealed to his heated flesh until my mouth was full. I drew slowly upward, suckling him, then lowered my head again, my lips gliding sensuously along his shaft. As I began a slow rhythm, my head bobbing in his lap, I formed a small circle with my thumb and index finger around the base of his cock and began to stroke him there as well, with somewhat quicker motions. I felt him start to lift himself to meet me, wanting more, his hips rising as I my head descended. My mouth was somewhat small as was the rest of me and I did not think I could accommodate much more of him inside my mouth and throat.

I was going down on him as deeply as I could, and not just to the limit of my comfort. I felt his hand come to the back of my head, at first his fingers stroking my hair appreciatively; then gathering my hair in a firm tight grasp. He began to "help" me as I lowered, pushing me down, forcing himself deeper into my throat. I fought the choking reflex as best I could, holding my breath until he eased the pressure and I could lift again, stealing another quick breath before the next descent. It was not long until I knew him near his peak - his breaths had sharpened and the lifting of his hips and pelvis to my mouth became urgent thrusts. His grip in my hair tightened even moreso and he held my head such that I could not lift it. I struggled, a little, taking my hand from the base of his shaft. In minor panic, I clawed at the divan, trying to brace myself at least. Then he came, holding me in his iron grasp, fucking my mouth and throat, his hips pistoning up from the cushions , pumping himself into me, filling my mouth with his ejaculate.

I thought I had prepared myself, but still it was a shock. My instructions had been quite clear so I tried as best I could to swallow the hot salty cum, keeping my lips sealed tightly around his thrusting cock. He slowed after several thrusts, each new one weaker than the last, until he stilled, and I felt my head and hair released to my own control. I remained as I was, my lips still sealed tightly to his now ebbing organ, regaining my composure... I had a wicked thought and so I lifted from his cock and tilted my lidded gaze to him, opening my lips so he could see within, the last of his cum smeared around my mouth and tongue, and then I lowered again and took him in as if it was my desperate need. Finally, I suckled him, then licked him with my tongue until I felt that what I saw on him was more of me than him - my saliva glistening upon his sated cock. I carefully restored him, zipping him up and rebuttoning the waistband of his khakis, and then I lay my head down in his lap and turned to look at Brentwood.