Tiffany's Timidities Ch. 03

"But, um... N—"

Before she could voice any objection his finger was through her choker's D-ring, pulling her down onto his face. His lips captured hers mid-word, cutting her off. He kissed her gently at first but then used his tongue.

"Mmm!" she squirmed, belatedly aware that she was clutching his penis rather tightly.

"Good," he broke away, pushing her back upright. "Now, go sit in Doctor Adams' lap and give him one of those too."

She shot to her feet - out of surprise more than any intent to obey. She wobbled atop her new shoes, mouth open and fists clenched.

The words hung in the air, slowly penetrating her buzzed brain.

She glanced over at Adams.

He was next-nearest, sitting to Jacobsen's right on the loveseat. He looked cool as a cucumber, maintaining that easy half-smile she remembered from the day before.

"You want," she stammered in disbelief, returning her gaze to Ian. "You want me to kiss him, too?"

"Yes. You must treat everyone the same. No favorites."

"But—I mean... No."

"Just go kiss him, Tiffany. We still have a long way to go here."

"But I—"

Her vision wavered, as though the room was rotating on a warped LP. Her memory of the overnight hours, of all her dreamed-up kisses with Adams, returned. He was the reason she was so tired. He was the reason she had returned. But the idea of kissing him like THIS... in front of everyone... was a nightmare.

"You don't have to marry him," Ian prodded her. "Just a quick show of affection."

Adams spread his palms innocently and gave her a goofy shrug, as if to say: 'I don't want to do this either, but let's just play along.'

She exhaled through pursed lips, swaying slightly above her steep shoes. Her whisky-breath reminded her of a time she'd let a stranger kiss her at an Irish bar back home. Her hands began to sweat.

She took a step toward him.

Never, actually, did she make up her mind to do it. She just found herself doing it; taking the next two steps, leaning over, draping her hands over his shoulders and kissing him right on the mouth. He reached up and held her there, wrists grazing the sides of her dangling boobs while his mouth worked itself up into hers.

His tongue was not shy, sliding all around, challenging hers to a mini wrestling match.

She felt her knees dip. Her left foot lifted behind her. Everything she'd fantasized about suddenly seemed real.

The other three doctors watched as her short skirt tilted way up, exposing her tanned backside from ankle to ass.

She got so lost in Adams' kiss that she collapsed onto him. He caught her easily, turning her so she landed across his lap, still twisted toward him. Their mouths never separated. His fingers creased her silk top, kneading her tits.

Finally he broke the kiss. Her chin was wet. Everyone was staring.

Ian cleared his throat and then said softly: "See? That wasn't so hard. Now it's Jacobsen's turn."

Tiffany's eyes were still closed. Adams had to physically turn her face back toward Ian before she opened them and regained her equilibrium.

"Jacobsen now, please," he repeated.

She covered her mouth as it finally dawned on her: "I... I have to kiss everyone?"

"Yes. I don't want anyone feeling jealous about you. So you have to be fair."

"But—"

"Ivan," Ian said, looking to Jacobsen who was seated behind her. "Would you please kiss Tiffany now?"

"Alright," he answered calmly.

She felt Adams release her. New hands hauled her backward. Suddenly she was reclined across both men's laps with her head on Jacobsen's thigh and her breasts aimed at the ceiling, mostly flattened by gravity. She had only enough time to inhale before being smothered by a demanding French kiss.

"MmmMM!" she complained, pushing against him with both arms.

Jacobsen clutched her hair to keep her still and began tweaking her nipples through the silk.

It was all very unsubtle, Ivan's effort to out-do his first two partners. Not only did he push his kiss deeper into her mouth, but his right hand soon went under her top, blatantly manhandling her swollen young tits.

Trapped by his grip on her hair, Tiffany writhed and kicked. This worsened her panties' exposure.

Eventually, after almost a minute, Ivan broke off. He straightened up and released her.

She rolled off him and onto the floor in a single motion and then staggered from her knees to her feet. A distinct new taste polluted her mouth and her nipples ached.

"What the hell?!" she wheezed. "You can't DO that!"

"Sorry," Jacobsen said. "Was I too abrupt?"

"Yes! I'm not... I'm not a TOY!"

"Okay, duly noted. Your nipples are sensitive."

"Tiffany?" Ian interrupted. "Now Doctor Grisholm please."

She spun to face Mitchell with as much fury as she could muster but was quite unready to speak to him. Her entire body was abuzz. All her life she'd never imagined kissing three men in a row like that, and now her boss expected her to kiss a fourth. She pushed her hair back and re-fixed her headband.

"No," she said flatly. "I get the message, okay? No favorites."

"So then kiss me," Grisholm chimed-in from the roll-arm chair directly behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and then back at Mitchell, hoping for something other than what she saw.

Ian gestured for her to hurry up.

She almost told him to fuck-off, but instead noticed Adams looking her up and down. The pang of wantonness she felt for him was like an opiate. It excused everything.

She took a deep breath and slowly turned around, thinking, 'I can't believe this.'

Grisholm was seated in a very relaxed posture, knees wide, forearms flush to the bolsters of his chair. His eyelids were narrow, however, betraying a suspicion that she might refuse.

"Affectionately," he stipulated.

She looked down at him, realizing he had just seen her kiss all three of his partners, quite willingly in one case, and that it would be hurtful were she to delay any longer.

Stepping close, she suppressed her distaste and bent from the waist until her hands were on the back of his chair. Her breasts slung forward, straining against the thin straps of her top.

Grisholm's dark eyes flicked down to capture the approaching flood of her cleavage but then returned to hers. His head tipped back and his lips parted.

Her short hair draped forward, enshrouding him. The lower half of her ass and blue g-string once again peeked at the room.

She set her lips onto Grisholm's and kissed. His hands made no move. He just lay there, making her do all the work. With every passing instant his quietude in the face of her mouth's indulgence evinced a far deeper self-control than any of his partners possessed.

She broke away gradually. A strand of spit briefly connected them.

There was silence.

She had expected to feel repulsed, but now that she'd kissed him her whole opinion changed. He was the only one who hadn't pawed her body. He was the only one who didn't seem desperate. His kiss had felt kind, yet manly.

"That was nice," he said, looking up at her with a smile that crinkled his eyes. "You didn't sit in my lap, like the others, but we can do that later."

She found herself nodding at him, which appalled her completely.

"Thanks everyone," Ian interrupted. "Let's move on."

Her feet, so elevated by their new sandals, slowly inched through a half-circle as she reviewed the chain of men she'd just kissed.

She felt wildly alive, as well as terrified by her own latent potential.

"Next item:" Ian continued, "Tips and gratuities. We talked about this earlier, gentlemen, and you may remember from T's resume that she spent many summers working in restaurants. Her basic hourly wage here is not high, so I suggested it'd be a good to formally encourage her with cash from time to time, as a way of recognizing excellent service. Do you all still agree?"

"Yes," the other three doctors announced in unison.

"Good. That's settled then."

"Wait... I get tips now?" she asked, belatedly hearing the words through her tipsy, over-sexed fog.

"They're not automatic, Sweetheart. For instance, I suspect you'll need to do something really special to get any money out of those two parsimonious bastards on the sofa."

He chuckled and flicked his chin lightheartedly toward Adams and Jacobsen.

They scowled back.

She looked at them and then back at Ian. "Like what?"

Every man smiled in a different way, each imagining some fantastic response while pouring their eyes over her like syrup on a pancake. She moved her hands to her hips and canted her weight to one side.

"Nuh-Uh!" she blurted, sounding far more coquettish than intended. She quickly added: "Just no, okay? Get those dirty thoughts out of your minds!"

Everyone grinned harder.

Ian shaded his face to conceal his glee, whispering: "Dear Lord, thank you."

He couldn't believe how much fun this was.

"Next up:" he resumed loudly, stifling his grin, "is patient-care. Everyone must remember that our patients' needs come first. I don't care if Tiffany is naked and tied to a chair in your office, if you've got a patient waiting, you need to stop and help that person. Clear?"

Every muscle in her body tweaked. She had to adjust her feet to stay vertical.

The other three doctors chuckled, not because of Mitchell's words, but because of her reaction.

"Hol-hol-hold on!" she stuttered. "Why would I be tied to a chair!? Or naked!?"

"Oh, I don't know," Ian sighed, beautifully feigning annoyance. "Disciplinary reasons, I suppose? It was just a random example."

"I don't wanna be tied-up... or naked!"

"Well... then I guess you'd better learn quickly."

"No! You can't just say things like that! I have rights like, not to be molested... or whatever."

"Yes, and we'll get to that in just a minute."

"Or spanked!" she added bravely, crossing her arms and daring him.

Mitchell fixed her with a look. A moment of tension stilled the room.

"Actually," he said, "your employment agreement stipulates consent to certain disciplinary measures, spanking being one of them so... technically; on that point you're wrong."

"What?"

"Your employment agreement; the thing you signed over the weekend? Remember you gave it to me Monday morning?"

"It... didn't say—"

"Did you read it?"

"Yeah."

"Really?"

"Well, I... I don't remember that part."

"Section Seventeen, if I recall. It's right over there on my desk if you want to fetch it."

"No."

"So you admit you didn't read it? You signed a volitional contract without even bothering to know what was in it?"

"No, I..."

"Don't lie. Our relationship is based on trust."

"But sir, I—"

"Did you, or did you not, read your entire contract?"

"I... I guess not all of it. I didn't think—"

"What kind of a message does that send about your attention to detail?"

"Um..."

"How are we supposed to trust you with our patients' vital records if you can't even be bothered to understand something that so directly affects your own welfare?"

"Can I read it now?"

"To what end?" he exclaimed, raising his voice for the first time. "You already signed it!"

"Don't be mad, sir, please. I just—"

"Grisholm," Ian said, cutting her off to address his partner instead. "Since today is your day in charge of Tiffany's discipline, I'll leave this to you... but I feel a significant remedy may be needed here, to remind her to be more diligent and attentive to detail."

"Mm-hm," Grisholm nodded.

"No. Wait," she pleaded. "I'll read it! I'll read it right now."

"No. Stay where you are," Ian insisted. "Grisholm will decide when and under what conditions you will read your contract. If we had more time I'd recommend you read it aloud to all of us, right here, while being spanked for the duration. But I'm leaving that decision to him."

Tiffany's eyes widened incredibly, showing an acre of white around each iris. She shook her head side-to-side.

Grisholm tented his fingers, deep in thought. Adams and Jacobsen covered their smiles.

"I..." Tiffany began uncertainly. "I don't think... I'm just not sure I can... do this job, sir."

"Are you quitting?" Ian asked, noticing her lips trembling.

"I need... the work, sir, but I can't just... these thing you're making me do, like—"

"We're training you, Tiffany. Every job requires training. Once you learn your new role, you won't need so many reminders."

"I know, but—"

"If you quit, this job will be gone. There is another girl; Kelsey I think her name was, who called right after you. She lives in Grand Junction and sounded very motivated - something about not being able to pay her tuition and being harassed by a collections agent. She said she'd be willing to commute all the way here, every day."

"Yes, sir."

"What I'm telling you is that there won't be a second chance. This is a good, full-time job with benefits and financial upside if you work hard. And I think you'll find it relatively easy and fun once you're trained."

She nodded and wiped one eye.

"All you need to decide is:" he continued carefully, at a lower volume. "Are you willing to be trained?"

Tiffany's respirations became unsteady; animating her silk top. She glanced around, furtively seeking reassurance in each face but finding little. Her knees brushed back and forth while she fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, folding the suede around her fingers. Inside her mind the lengthening silence was like a pry-bar.

A tear dripped from her eye, streaking her shell.

"Sweetheart," Ian continued, softly this time. "We all want you to stay. We all think you're wonderful. But you need to accept your punishments."

"I know but," she began, wiping her eyes. "I can't just—"

She sobbed once, under her breath, wishing she were sober. She knew quitting was too important a decision to make buzzed.

"It really boils down to just one question."

"It... it does?"

"Yes. Are you, in light of everything this job provides; steady pay, good benefits, medical office experience, a better resume and a chance at tips and raises... are you willing, in exchange for all that, to be spanked?"

Her lips slowly parted as she looked at him. The sound and thrill of Jacobsen's spanking replayed inside her head. Her breathing became damp. She lost the ability to hold his gaze and dropped her eyes.

"Are you?" he prodded.

His proposition trickled through her, melting the edges of her resistance. She crossed her feet and whispered:

"But... if I say ye—yes then... at least may I keep... my panties on?"

"You mean when we spank you?"

She nodded, still clutching her skirt.

"No."

It struck her like a whip, that unqualified denial. She coughed; expectorating all vanity, then bit her bottom lip so hard it turned white. Her nostrils flared.

Silence hung in the room, awaiting her capitulation. Finally her shoulders sagged, her features scrunched and she spun around to hide, eyes shut tight and hands across her butt as if expecting some incipient pain.

"Humiliation," Ian continued, leaning forward in his chair, "is the most effective teacher of all. You know that."

She nodded.

"Is that a yes?"

She nodded again, unable to speak.

"You accept your spankings and the rest of the training protocols, including your outfits?"

"Y—yes."

"Good!" he grinned. "I'm glad you came 'round. You had me worried there for a moment."

"Sah—sorry sir."

Ian suggested she return to his lap before she fell over.

Still facing away, she wiped both eyes and inhaled deeply. Surrender's unfamiliar release penetrated her sinews like a salve. Her breathing stabilized.

She loitered moments longer, promising herself over and over that everything was going to be okay until, after a final sob and a rub of her nose, she swiveled around.

The four doctors' faces all seemed friendlier. They regarded her warmly, like a new relative. She thought Mitchell looked especially pleased.

She slunk to him, then turned and sat; aware that all the men's eyes were tracking her. Once seated she folded herself against his shoulder, emotionally spent and longing for comfort. Her legs slowly crossed, showing miles of toned, tanned thigh.

Ian moved her petite hand onto his penis again.

She emitted no noise but closed her eyes. She had no desire to witness their ogling. She just wanted peace.

"Final rule:" Ian announced, "No one may have intercourse with Tiffany without her consent."

She coughed for a second time, re-experiencing the urge to cry. Her head burrowed into Ian's shoulder, rocking side to side.

"And by consent," he continued, unmoved, "I mean Tiffany must be lucid and begging for it. Hypnosis doesn't count, okay Grisholm?"

Grisholm raised his hands in mock astonishment. The others jeered.

Tiffany felt herself free-falling through space. It occurred to her she might vomit. What remained of her ego screamed that this latest rule shouldn't be necessary, that its very existence was a portent of impossible awfulness. She withdrew her hand from Ian's erection and managed to utter a subtle:

"No."

"You have an objection to that one?" he asked incredulously. "Why? Is the threshold too high?"

She lifted her face and whispered: "No, I... It's just—"

"Then what?"

"I... I don't want to have... that," she glanced around, expression wilting, "...with anyone. I'm not like that; I just want my job."

"You've got your job." Ian countered smoothly, "for the time being at least. Anyway, there's nothing in these rules that compels you to have intercourse with anyone. On the contrary, it's forbidden. Unless you beg for it."

"But...then why even—?"

"All you have to do is not beg for it. That seems fair."

"I would... never—"

"Never is a big word, but okay, continue."

"I won't, sir... ever. I'm serious."

"So am I. No intercourse."

"Promise?"

"Unless you beg for it."

"Which I won't."

"Right."

A pregnant silence followed. She thought she had done okay, maybe fought him to a draw, but Ian knew better. To him this was all just foreplay.

"I'm moving on now," he said. "Is that alright with you?"

She felt exhausted. Her eyelids narrowed and she nodded.

He tugged her fingers back onto his cock.

Her expression went through a sequence of impulses; from fatigue to anger to sadness to resignation and then to quiescence, all within a matter of seconds.

He loved it. She was so endearing.

He added pressure to her hand and intentionally pulsed his erection to make sure she felt how hard he was. Her eyes and mouth briefly widened, displaying their habitual wonderment, but her hand did not pull away.

Instead she hid her face in his shoulder.

Ian sensed her warmth. He guessed he would be inside her by Friday; or at latest by the weekend.

"Nice job finding that choker," he segued happily, looking across the table. "It's perfect."

"I got lucky," Grisholm replied, smiling in his seat.

"Yes, I think we all did. She's going to make a lovely office girl."

"Here, here!" Jacobsen seconded.

"For sure," Adams added. "She's a sweet one."

Mitchell grinned and pulled her closer. Then he picked up his agenda.

Tiffany kept her eyes closed and cringed. She didn't want to hear any more talk. She just wanted to be somewhere dark. She breathed into her boss' collar, imbibing his scent and the sturdiness of his body. When he spoke his voice reverberated through her like a purr. She willed herself to feel safe.

The erection in her hand felt thick. Without thinking, she slid her fingers to its tip.

Ian's voice cracked.

She cursed herself for having done it, wishing she could rewind that impulse. But suddenly something else derailed her regret; a tickle her crotch, deep inside.

She adjusted her legs. She was leaking.

Instantly she jerked upright, mouth aghast with shock. It felt like a stick of butter had just melted within her. She flattened both palms across the gap between her thighs, panicked that her bosses would see her underwear soak through or, God forbid, SMELL her. Worse yet, she knew she was about to leave a wet mark on Mitchell's trousers. She jumped to her feet and hurried to the empty side of the coffee table.