Amazon-dot-cum Ch. 02

Please do not read if under 18 years of age or offended by sexually explicit stories and situations.

(c) 2002 Couture

***********

"Fuck her," I said as I drove home. I wouldn't get earrings or my nails done. It was bad enough that she pulled that shit on me at work, but there was no way I was going to allow her to control my private life. Then I realized that if I went home, I would have to explain to my husband why I was home early.

I fingered the ten dollar bill. Maybe I would get my nails done. I certainly derserved it after all I had been through, but there was no way I was going to wear trampy big hooped earrings to work tomorrow. No way in hell.

I was a little late getting home after I had my nails done, but that wasn't unusual and Bill was watching TV in his boxers as usual. A bag of potato chips and several cans of beer were on the table next to his feet. He was home all day with nothing to do and the house was in worse shape than when I left this morning.

I wanted to be mad. I deserved more than this . . . especially after what I had been through. I should cuss him out, but I needed something. *I* needed relief.

"What's for dinner hon?" he asked, not bothering to look back at me.

I reached beneath my skirt, shucked off my panties, then put them to my nose and inhaled my musky aroma. God, I needed a fuck.

I strutted over to his chair, unbuttoning my blouse on the way. "Me," I said.

I didn't even bother to take off my clothes; I just hiked up my skirt and sat in his lap. I ground against him until he grew hard. I fished his cock out of the fly of his drawer and he slipped easily into my pussy and soon we were making love.

I was his wife again, not some cheap office whore. A pussy girl. At least I was until I leaned back and raked my nails over his chest.

It was the nails that did it. They made me think about Thandi's demands and then about Thandi herself. I couldn't help but imagine I was back on the floor between her legs - pleasuring her. "Can't you do anything right?" she demanded.

I shook my head to clear the forbidden images from my mind, but I began to doubt myself. What if Bill didn't enjoy me? Was I a bad lover?

"Is it good for you baby? Am I doing it right?" I asked Bill.

"Oh yeah baby," he grunted. "You're doin' real good."

But he would lie, wouldn't he? Instead of Bill, I saw images of Thandi, looking down at me, disapprovingly. Yes, he would lie.

I began to bounce harder. The sofa squeaked beneath us.

"How's that baby? Is that better?" I kissed him deeply, tasting the beer on his breath, and tweaked his nipples through his t-shirt.

"Oh God," he grunted. "Fuck, I'm cumming."

I milked him with my pussy, trying to get myself off. I wasn't even close and he was rapidly growing softer. I reached beneath me and cupped my pussy so his cum wouldn't leak out as I stood. I walked pigeon-toed to the bathroom, looking at the clock on my way. Two minutes had passed. Fuck.

I locked the door behind me, sat down on the toilet, spread my legs. Sometimes, if you want something done right you have to do it yourself. I lightly tweaked my nipples, while my other hand traveled down to my sex. Two fingers thrust in and out of my cum-filled pussy, while I circled my clit with my forefinger.

I wish I could say that I was thinking of Bill, but instead my mind was on her - that coloured bitch Thandi. She was disappointed by my masturbation technique. Was I really that bad? Had I missed out on something when I masturbated myself?

I fluttered my manicured nails over my clit and teased my opening with a finger, instead of my usual around the clit and in and out method. es, that felt good. I was missing out. I got intimate with my cunt for the next twenty minutes and experimented. It was something I should have done ages ago.

I was sitting there, legs spread wide, one hand stretching my pussy wide, the other lightly spanking my moist pink flesh, sending jolts of pleasure through my body, when suddenly, my reverie was broken by a loud knocking on the door.

"Did you fall in?" Bill said.

"No." Goddamnit, I thought to myself. "I'll be out in just a minute." Asshole, you came, didn't you? Give me just a goddamn minute more.

"Well hurry up. I'm hungry."

I tried to finish myself off, but the moment was broken. I took a cold washcloth and wiped my steaming pussy. I'll be back for you later baby, I promised my aching sex.

************

Unfortunately, later came, but my pussy didn't. I spent the rest of the night cooking and cleaning. I went to bed early for some *alone time*, nobody but us girls. In five minutes my husband came to bed. His back was to me, but it was also touching me.

I tried for a few minutes. Gently moving my fingers in tiny circles around my clit, but it is impossible to satisfy myself without being discovered. It was difficult to sleep, I kept thinking back to what happened with my new black boss earlier that day. The thoughts were arousing.

I wondered what was wrong with me.

*************

The next morning I dressed and went to work. By the time I walked through the door, my heart was pumping and my knees were shaking with fear. The urge to pee was overwhelming, so I stopped at the bathroom before I went to my desk.

The morning passed without mishap. I was even in a meeting with Thandi and she ignored me, which I was glad of. Afterwards, I sat at my desk, slightly relieved that maybe yesterday was the end of our bizarre relationship. She did say that I didn't do a very good job, so it was possible that she decided to make someone else her 'Pussy girl'. I smiled at the thought, looking around the office and wondered who it might be.

Then my phone rang. It was her.

"Tracy, please report to my office."

"Yes, ma-am," I said.

I could hear the blood pound in my ears as I hurried to her office. Would I be fired? Or would she make me masturbate her again? Or would she act as if nothing ever happened.

I opened her door and she was sitting there looking more than a little impatient impatient.

"Close the door and lock it," she said. "When I ask you to report to my office, I expect you here promptly. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma-am." I hurried straight here, I wanted to argue, but bit my tongue and locked the door.

"What are you waiting for?" she asked. "You know the procedure."

"Ma-am?"

She shook her head disapprovingly. "Shit, what an incompetent," she muttered. "Take off your clothes and put them on the desk, then come over here and *report* to me." The way she said *report*, it left little to the imagination. She pointed down at her crotch, smirking all the while.

Oh God, she was going to make me do it again. I started to take off my clothes.

"I don't have all day, girl," she said.

I hurriedly stripped, until I was naked, with my hands covering the more private areas.

"Come here," she said. "Don't kneel down yet. I bought you a present."

"Move your hands," she said.

My pussy was inches from her face. I was turned on and humiliated beyond belief. I prayed she wouldn't discover my aroused condition. She ignored my distress, and proceeded to put a strange device on me. First, one hoop went around my waist and a smooth mound went over my crotch. Another hoop went between my legs and she fastened them all together. The crotch piece was covered by a form fitting piece of Styrofoam. I gasped when she removed it. The silver mound looked just like my own, only everything was exaggerated. It was puffy, the lips were distended, and the clit rose up from it like a tiny cock. It was a gross perversion of the female sex, and it cupped me and cradled me at the same time.

She grabbed a small round protuberance, and turned it.

"Now, pull it out and give it to me," she said.

I pulled out what appeared to be a key and reluctantly gave it to her. Something inside told me things had just went to another level, but I her eyes told me to give it to her anyway.

"What is it?" I asked.

She arched an eyebrow at me.

"What is it ma-am?" I corrected myself.

She said, "I call it our new profit sharing plan. You remember yesterday when I said it was my job to motivate my girls. Well this is your motivation, a chastity belt."

Oh shit, this was too much. I tugged at the device and tried to get it off. I looked for the key, but she locked it in her desk.

"Are you finished yet?" she asked.

"Give me the key," I demanded, grabbing at her hand. "This is going to way too far."

"I'll give it to you when you've earned it," she laughed, smirking at me and easily keeping the key from my grasp.

"I'll get someone to cut it off."

"I'd like to see you explain how you got it. And just look at it," she said, her gaze traveling up and down it's very realistic looking lips. "It's so embarrassing, isn't it? No, I don't think you will be showing it to anyone."

Tears welled in my eyes. In my heart, I knew she was right. I tried a different tact. Begging: "Please ma'am. Take it off. I don't won't to do this anymore."

"Sure. But first I want some relief. I'm feeling a little tense today."

I sank to my knees. Defeated.

"I think I will stay in my chair today," she said, raising her hips, so that I could remove her panties.

She placed her legs over the arms of her chair and leaned back. I proceeded to masturbate her. She smiled when she saw my nails.

"Your nails are absolutely gorgeous," she said. "Are they mine?"

"Yes ma-am." Somehow I was pleased that she noticed. Bill never mentioned them last night.

"I love the way the color looks against my skin," she said.

It was a French manicure. The nails were the white and the pink. They stood out, bright as neon, contrasting with her dark skin. I teased her clit with my nail, trailed it along her slit, before cupping her whole pussy in my hand and squeezing lightly, a move I had discovered last night, before I was rudely interrupted.

"See," she breathed. "You are better already."

I blushed, unable to meet her eyes.

"Look at me."

I still couldn't. I stared at my fingers and at her sex.

"I said. Look at me. My eyes, not my cunt."

It was harder to do than you would think, especially, when you are naked and kneeling between the legs of a fully clothed woman.

I met her eyes and her gaze was penetrating. It fucked me. It fucked me to my soul.

"That's it pussy girl. I can see you now. I can see it in your eyes that you are going to give me a good cum this time. Aren't you pussy girl?"

I nodded my head. My flushed cheeks burned. This was what I dreamed of the night before, of servicing her, of her condescending attitude and her superior stare that bored from my eyes straight to my sex. I needed to cum so badly and now even that had been taken from me.

"I love those soft white fingers, pussy girl. They've never been spoiled with calluses from hard work, have they? Have they?" She was breathing heavy. The corners of her mouth turned up - half sly grin - half sexy pout.

"No ma'am."

"Yes, so soft . . . so tender. I bet you are soft and tender all over."

I thought back to my first maid. She was an older colored woman. She would massage my feet with her hard calloused hands after I came in from the office. I tried to imagine her servicing my pussy like I was servicing Ms. Moore's. Instead, my fantasy took a turn for the worse and I was on my knees in front my former maid.

I gasped and opened my eyes due to a sudden pain shooting from my nose. Thandi held my nose between her thumb and forefinger.

"I said, look at me girl and I meant it. Look at my eyes and my face while you work. That is how you know if you are doing a good job, little pussy girl."

I concentrated on pleasing her again. My fingers dance and teased, prodded and probed. Her face softened and she was right, it provided a road map to her pleasure. A closing of the eyes, a gasp, or a biting of the lower lip, meant to continue. Her eyes opening to look at me meant she wanted me to do something else. A wince meant she didn't like it and I wasn't to repeat that again.

"You're going to make me cum you pussy. My little pussy girl. Make me cum with your fingers. Your soft white fingers. Work those fingers girl. Look at me, not my cunt."

God she was demanding and my hands were tired, but I continued on. Masturbating her to the best of my ability.

Her face contorted. The veins in her neck stood out. Her breathing grew ragged. Her hips bucked. The chair squeaked.

This is what an orgasm looks like, I thought.

"God, I'm oh-oh-I'm cumming," she announced, as she grabbed both my ears and pulled my face into her pussy. I didn't know what to do since my fingers couldn't reach her, so I just held still and stared at her. Stared at her, while she used my face as some sort of masturbation device.

Her face told the story of her orgasmic bliss. Gradually, it grew more relaxed, the thrusting of her hips fainter, and thankfully her grip on my ears lessened. Her eyes fluttered open and then widened in shock to see my face trapped between her thighs, pulled tight against her sex.

She let go of my ears and I pulled back.

"Did I hurt you, my tender girl?" she asked, rubbing my ears and then stroking my hair.

"No," I said. "I'm alright." I kept my stare directed at her face. It was hard, part of me wanted to look at her pussy, to see what it looked like after all my hard work.

Her eyes hardened. "Well, what are you staring at? Clean me up and do something with your face. It's a mess. Then, get dressed and get back to work. Don't think for a minute that this changes anything. I expect you to still do your job and I expect you to do it right."

Thankless bitch.

"Yes, ma-am," I said, trying my best to keep my thoughts hidden, as I cleaned her sex with tissues. Afterwards, I cleaned myself and dressed. She stopped me at the door.

"Oh, and Tracy," she said as an after thought. "You did an excellent job. I'm very pleased with your performance."

I couldn't believe she said that. I was naked, on my knees, giving her an orgasm and she commends me like I did good work on the Pittman project. What do you say to that? I was only doing it because you forced me, you psycho bitch. No, I couldn't say that. She still had the box in the corner and a pink slip with my name on it, not to mention the key to this damned belt.

"Thank you ma-am," I muttered, my blushing face pointing to the floor, my eyes cast up at her from underneath my bangs. I caught myself in a bob. She did too and smiled condescendingly.

"Get me a cup of coffee when you come back and don't forget to freshen your face."

Yes, my face. My pussy scented face. I repaired the damage to my makeup, but I still smelled like her. I hurried to the bathroom, washed my face and fingers, reapplied my makeup, got her a cup of coffee, and gave it to her. She didn't even bother to look up, just motioned with her hands, as if to say; hurry along girl - my little pussy girl.

I returned to work, still smelling the odor of her sex in my nostrils, and praying that no one else could. The steel chastity belt was uncomfortable. The way it hugged my sex, kept me aroused and always thinking about it. I found the only way to function, was to pour myself into my work.

The day flew by. I had lunch with Ms. Moore, per her request. I could feel the stares of my coworkers, as if I had sold them out, by kissing up to the head bitch. I ate the salad she ordered for me. I didn't have a say in the matter and we chatted about work. As if we were friends and had a normal working relationship. Afterwards, we returned to work and I threw myself into it again.

The phone rang, I looked down to see her number, and my heart started to pound. I picked it up.

"Yes, ma-am?"

"Report to my office at once, Tracy."

"Yes, ma-am."

I hurried to her office, my legs a blur beneath my skirt. I opened the door, locked it, and started to disrobe.

"Leave them on," she said. "You've done a good job today Tracy, and I'm letting you off early to run a few errands." She slid a key ring to me and I took it.

She handed me a map and fifty dollars. "The keys are to my house. I want you to go to the drycleaners and pick up my clothes, and pick up a take-out meal for dinner. Chinese would be nice. Get enough for two. Take it all to my house, you have a map. When you get there, I want you to change clothes and get on my treadmill. Just push start, don't touch the programming and do it until it stops. Don't leave until I get home."

This was the second day she let me off early and co-workers were starting to notice. I kept my eyes downcast, unable to meet their agitated glances, praying they wouldn't see the outline of the steel belt, encasing my pussy.

I did as she requested, and every time I got up or sat down, the belt cupped and caressed my sex. As I rode to her house, I realized I was hot. No, not just hot, I was desperate. I even felt like I could have molested the young clerk at the drycleaners. My hand snuck beneath my skirt and I tried to circumvent the belt, but I couldn't so much as wiggle a little finger beneath the cruel, unyielding steel. I pulled the car over, had a little cry and then summoned the strength to begin driving again.

By the time I arrived at her house, I had resigned myself to the situation. A situation that couldn't last forever; I just needed to be patient.

Her house was not quite what I imagined. For some reason I pictured a huge mansion. It wasn't. It was even slightly smaller than mine. I took the food and clothes in her house, and found the outfit she wanted me to exercise in, laying on her bed. I stripped and sat down on the bed, and instead of dressing, I tried once again to circumvent the belt. I couldn't.

To my horror, I found that the outfit I was to wear wasn't much of an outfit at all, only a sports bra and a thin pair of shorts with a built in thong that left little to the imagination. I put them on, stepped on the stairclimber, and pressed start.

It was hard work. My legs and ass burned like mad. I was tempted several times to turn the machine down, but I hesitated at the last moment. Her instructions were firm regarding this matter and usually the machine seemed to sense I was about to give up and the intensity would grow less.

The wall was one giant mirror. It was impossible not to look at myself while I exercised. My sweat had soaked the white bra making my pink aureoles clearly visible. The shaped mound of the chastity belt was clearly visible through the bottoms. Even though I knew what I was seeing was only steel, my mind seemed drawn to the shape of a large gaping sex with a hard clit sticking out. Seeing myself this way in the mirror only served to stoke the flames of my increasingly frustrating need for sex.

The exercise program finally ended, and I got off and took a shower. While I was there I tried to wiggle my soapy fingers into the belt, but it wouldn't yield. I had to settle for massaging my soapy breasts. It felt nice, but it did nothing to give me release and only served to let me know just how bad a fix I was in.

Then I remembered the keys!

I quickly dried off, wrapped the towel around me, and found her key ring by the door. I sat down on the couch and tried every key in hopes of opening the belt. No luck. Speaking of luck, it was at that moment she opened the front door catching me there red handed.

"What the hell are you doing slut?" she demanded.

"Nothing," I said, hiding the keys behind my back.

She slid the thin narrow belt from the loops of her skirt as she approached me. "I see you need a lesson about lying *and* disobedience."

"What are you doing?" I said, getting up from the couch and backing away from her. She couldn't do what it looked like she was going to do, could she?