Taking Dictation

Clytemnestra Lathrop, better known to the corner boys in the Tillery's Tenements area of Buttermilk Falls as "Nasty Nesti" lounged in the outer office of Dickie Divallo.

Richard Divallo Senior, had founded Divallo & Rothgeb and then left it to Dickie (Junior).

Dickie's oldest son, Richard the Third, called "Trey" headed up Accounting...

But it seemed like Dickie's younger boy, who they called "Dizzy" was not up for joining the firm at all.

Nesti thought Diz was adorable.

So what if he wanted to be a pottery instructor? Working in the brokerage was boring, Nesti knew that well.

Diz really appreciated Nesti's interest in him. Sexually, he was more compelled by his roommate's nine inches of you-know-what-

But Nesti did help to get money out of the old man to keep Diz's lights on.

Her vocational course in typing in the Buttermilk County Girl's Correctional having proved invaluable, Nesti was Dickie Divallo's executive secretary.

"Dickie, why doncha give Diz a little cash?"

Nesti stood up and stretched in her violet mesh pullover, and her firm cantaloupes slightly rearranged her riot of honey blonde curls.

Nesti pouted slightly as her employer looked a bit truculent.

"Nesti, the boy doesn't want to work. Teaching ceramics is a waste of time."

"It's not like he needs a lot. He makes enough with the senior citizens and also at the community center to cover his rent and food, but I think his car payment is the big problem."

Nesti smiled and stretched again, and amusedly watched Dickie's eyes pop a little bit, the horny old fuck.

"You're as bad as his mother. The boy needs a shock of reality. Actually, so does his mom. Too dependent on the alimony."

Nesti walked over and leaned in front of where Dickie was sitting, and casually moved her knee between the old man's legs and rubbed his crotch.

"It would make Nesti happy, if you were a little generous to Sonny Boy."

Dickie flushed. He just worshipped his new secretary. She was friendly and fun, and she gave him massages, and sometimes let him give HER massages.

Nesti claimed she had a "heart murmur" and more than once had opened her blouse and asked Dickie to rub a sensitive spot just above her left breast.

Once, when she'd felt tense, Dickie had taken her to the motel down the street and she'd stripped to her bra and panties and he'd given her a full rubdown, just for medical purposes, of course.

Dickie had been a medic in Vietnam, and had also learned a bit of physical therapy. So it was not surprising that Nesti thought he had capable, strong hands.

But you see, when Dickie came back from the war, sure, he could have become a full time physical therapist...

But Richard, Sr. needed him in the business. And Trey had wanted to be a race-car driver, and had driven in Lemans for a bit, but also joined up at Dickie's request.

Now Dizzy...that boy just didn't comprehend. Art school, all that nonsense, selling his vases, and now this stupid job teaching.

Nesti got very close to Dickie. He breathed heavily.

"You were so nice to give me that massage the other day. I felt a little uncomfortable about taking everything off-"

Dickie coughed.

"Hrrumph, well I just wanted to be thorough in getting the kinks out."

"You don't want to spend a lot of time lecturing Dizzy. Why don't you just give him a big check-five thousand, maybe ten or so-"

"What?"

"You're generous, Dickie. You gave me a huge bonus last month.

Give Dizzy that, and then we can go to the motel and work on making your fingers do the walking, you know?"

Nesti leaned down and unzipped Dickie, and he felt her reach her long peach nail in and stroke his burgeoning member.

"You must have tension and groin pain yourself."

Nesti's fingers rubbed Dickie's penis and she kissed his ear.

"B-but I don't think I'm teaching Diz anything with-"

"Don't bother teaching Dizzy anything. I'd rather you teach ME some things. Or I could teach them to you."

Nesti yanked her net top off, leaving only a push up embroidered bra in a lively violet color.

Almost a bustier, she rubbed her chest against Dickie's, as her soft fingers and long nails tickled and rubbed him down below.

Suddenly she stopped and ground her fingers into the tip of his cock.

Nesti's eyebrows contracted into a frown as he winced from the pain.

"Who the fuck are you, Dickie? Your dad gave you this investment house, what real work you ever done?"

"I've put my life's work into this firm-"

Nesti smiled and ran her fingers into Dickie's open shirt and she tweaked his nipples, very hard.

"But Dickie, what else were you going to do? A needle-penis'ed little creep whose wife left him 'cos he dresses in girl's clothes nights-"

Dickie wished he hadn't told Nesti that story, dammit.

"I mean, even if Diz is gay, he's in a way, more of a man than you are."

"D-don't be ridiculous. He is an abomination to God.

"Didn't you get kicked out of a seminary years ago for some'pin similar, like? Kind of a wuss, ain't you?"

Suddenly she smiled again, and rubbed his cheek with her hand.

"Such a nice guy you can be when you want to."

"You mean when you want me to!" Dickie protested.

The week before, all the Rotarians wanted Dickie to contribute with them towards a summer camp for troubled youth, and Dickie had refused initially...

But Nesti, who had nephews and nieces going to that camp, had given him a lecture, and when he still was stubborn, she'd used the stapler to torture his nipples.

Finally Dickie had cried for mercy, and Nesti had let up, and after he'd signed the check...

Nesti had rubbed her Jimmy Choo beaded Lance on his penis as it hung out of his pants, grinding it into the floor (he was on his knees) until he'd had a happy "accident."

On Tuesday, Dickie was about to fire one of their bond brokers because he'd sold the company car during a bender...

Nesti had borrowed the dude's leather belt while he sat there, bombed, and she'd removed Dickie's pants...

She'd whipped Dickie's bare ass right in front of the bond sales guy until Dickie had promised to just put the chap on "probation."

Dickie overheard someone at the water cooler whispering that the employees thought of him as less of a "Scrooge."

Nesti was really de-fanging the Monster!

Once or twice, Nesti had dropped by Dickie's house and made sure that the housekeeper, the cook, the gardeners and other servants were getting decent raises.

Dickie was really unaware of how hard it was to clean a house.

Nesti had made Dickie don a French Maid's uniform and come and clean her apartment.

When Dickie had done a bad job on the toilet, Nesti had poured cottage cheese into it and demanded Dickie eat it out.

"B-but that's disgusting, Nesti."

"Only 'cos you did a bad job scrubbin it. Now you're going to eat it out and lick the commode clean!"

Afterwards, Nesti and her mom had given Dickie a soapy enema, which seemed to cleanse his perspective more than a little.

Nesti also felt that she needed a decent wardrobe for work, and thought her boss should fund it, as well as for the typists and other clerks.

When he'd boggled at the bill at Macy's, Nesti had dragged Dickie into the changing room and taken him over her knee...

It looked ridiculous, the senior executive, wiggling his naked crotch against the young woman's scratchy skirt as she whipped his bare buttocks with her jacket belt.

The itchiness and scratchiness of the material had aroused his cock to the point that Nesti discovered Dickie had cum on her skirt!

She looked so angry that Dickie obediently paid the bill for the 30 women he'd bought clothing for, and also her cleaning bill.

Although first Nesti had made him suck his cum out of her skirt as he knelt on his knees on the dressing room floor.

Sometimes Dickie lusted after other girls in the office, and made them uncomfortable. Nesti didn't mind his attentions, but didn't like other young women crying when he'd rubbed up against them in the coffee room.

She'd more than once put Dickie's dong in the office paper cutter and lowered the blade just over his trembling penis.

Once, she'd poured boiling water from the coffee room on the tip of his penis...

Strangely, after almost all of these tortures, Dickie would kneel and masturbate on the floor in front of her...

Dickie was so compelled by his arousal.

Nesti now and then would visit him in the office under the guise of taking dictation.

Sitting on his lap, she'd allow his penis to rise up between her soft thighs and stroke the tip faster and slower depending on whether he was pleasing her.

Sometimes she would demand that he memorize scripts from her favorite soap operas and repeat the entire thing...

"But Dirk, I think I'm going to have your Baby..."

"No, that's not right. She said 'I'm going to have your child."

And of course Nesti would cease the rubbing until Dickie got his head straight...

But really he had to man up, these insane requests of hers!

Especially giving money to his worthless younger son, the so-called "artist".

Now, Nesti reached into Dickie's pants.

She was still leaning into him, her knee against his open crotch. Nesti lifted his penis up and she slammed the knee hard into his testicles.

Dickie thought he was going to faint.

"P-please, Nesti, don't-"

Nesti stood up and took off her right heel, a six inch black job and grabbed it by the front and used the stiletto as a hammer, whacking Dickie's hard cock until he squealed.

She leaned into his ear.

"Don't you wish I'd suck your little dickie, Dickie?"

Those red, varnished lips!

"Oh-all right, I'll give the boy a check, ten thous-"

"Twenty."

"Oh-all right."

Suddenly Nesti was all smiles again. She stepped back into her shoe and gave Dickie a huge kiss on the mouth.

"I have the check right here, Mr. Divallo. Just sign it."

Shaking, Dickie got up and signed the check to his son, amazed that she had so predicted the twenty grand that she'd written it out an hour ago.

He signed the check, and she smiled and went out of the office as he sat back on the chair, his cock starting to grow, watching her adorable bottom twitch.

Nesti came back in, and she guided him to the couch he used to charm clients. Dickie noticed with some unease that she locked the door.

"I gave it to Diz, he said thanks and he and his friend want you to come to dinner next week. Please don't be homophobic."

Dickie's mouth grew dry.

"I wouldn't want to take off my heel again, Dickie."

"Y-yes ma'am."

A moment later she looked down, and there he was, jacking off on her shoes again.