Tiffany's Timidities Ch. 04

Ian tossed the scissors aside and sat down.

"Let me see," he said.

"Oh my God!" she answered. "I'm falling out! You... you ruined it."

"There wasn't much to ruin, dear. Now remove your hands please. Let me see you."

Her brows wrinkled and her expression fought back, but slowly she let go.

The cut yawned wide in sympathy with her breasts' natural weight, exposing a tan valley where her cleavage had been. The rest of the shirt held together, but barely. Its new neckline was wide enough to reveal the edges of her triangular tan lines.

"Perfect," he grinned.

She hugged her ribcage below the shelf of her breasts, looking down in awe. She was exposed nearly to the areolae and her top's remaining fabric looked as though it might tear at any moment. A chill ran through her as she wondered how long it would hold.

Her expression flickered, unsure what to express.

"Really.... really lovely," he whispered, nonchalantly cupping one boob from below, assaying it before tracing a circle around its puffy tip.

She twisted away, mouth agape and hands protecting her chest.

He caught her by the beltline and pulled her into his lap.

She landed on him with a squeal, legs sprawled and one arm flung over the backrest. Her forehead abutted his for a moment and then she dodged aside above his shoulder.

The chair creaked under their combined weight and tipped rearward. She brought her knees up, tight together. More stitches in her shorts popped.

His hands went everywhere; finding all her ticklish spots.

She squirmed and giggled, involuntarily tucking her elbows and curling her toes. The scandal of it was enthralling. She was utterly vulnerable.

When he snugged his right hand between her thighs and began massaging her there using just the right amount of pressure, her face contorted against the leather and her voice attempted protest.

"Nn-Nn," was all that came out.

"Yes?" he prodded, isolating the hard bump of her clit.

"N-ihh! Please not there!"

"Sensitive?"

She arched like a petted cat, biting her lower lip and humming. She realized, belatedly, how much better these molestations were feeling each day.

He wobbled her clit side to side.

"N-ah!" she exclaimed, aware that everything inside her was about to liquefy.

He undid the shorts' top button.

"Noh!" she scolded.

"Why not?"

She grabbed the back of his head, raking his dark hair as she thought.

He undid the next button.

"'Cause we can't!" she hissed, grabbing his wrist.

"Can't what?"

"Do that."

He undid the third button despite her interference, countering: "But it would be so much fun."

"No, seriously, stop! You're my boss! We can't sleep together!"

"Who said anything about sleeping?"

She tried to twist away as the fourth button sprang wide, pleading: "No, I'm not supposed to—"

The last button came free.

Immediately his finger was inside her.

"Eek!" she squealed, clenching all her limbs together, trapping his hand and hugging his neck.

"Jesus you're so fucking wet."

A pitchy moan announced her guilt. This new level of disgrace only stoked her excitement.

He drove his digit deeper, relishing her snugness.

Her moans sweetened, becoming pure aural candy.

"Goodness," he teased. "That's one eager pussy."

She clawed at the back of his neck, unable to defend her dignity yet desperately wishing she could. Her vagina throbbed on his finger.

"Did you shave it just for me?" he asked, rocking his hand.

"Mohh!" she sobbed, transparently debauched.

He continued delving, smearing her hard clit with his palm.

She clung to him like a castaway on a life raft, pressing her forehead to the leather and exhaling in plaintive huffs.

He goaded her onward, whispering: "Were you hoping I'd shag you? Maybe a couple times?"

"Nu-Oh!"

"I bet you were."

"No, y'hafta sto—"

"You just need to beg for it, Kitten. Those are the rules."

With conspicuous effort she muted herself, aware that her tone was undermining her.

He leaned back and sighed while keeping his hand busy, asking: "You know what your problem is?"

"Mm-Mm!"

"My partners have spoiled you. These past two days they've impressed upon you that this job is nothing but a pleasure-fest."

"Noh! Mm-m."

"Judging by your present state I'd say you were hoping for more of the same today. Isn't that right?"

Her eyes squinted shut and she answered him with an involuntary, open-mouthed, whine.

He continued massaging her, pretending to be unfazed: "Now I'm in charge of your discipline however, and things are going be much more rigid."

"Ohh!"

"For starters, you need reminding about your actual job," he went on. "It's to help recruit younger donors and patients, keep me and my partners happy and perform normal receptionist duties during business hours. Is that clear?"

"Mm-Hm!"

"You'll notice nothing in that list involves you having wild orgasms, right?"

"Noh," she exhaled; mortified that he knew everything. It made her insides turn to jelly. "I never wan—"

"Today," he cut her off by squeezing a second finger in, "you will focus on your duties. Is that clear?"

"Yes!" she cried, curling with pleasure. "Yes but you—"

He spread his fingers.

Words failed her. Drawn like a moth to her own burgeoning pyre she widened her thighs and bucked, impaling herself on his hand. It was a level of naughtiness so far beyond her experience that her brain briefly abdicated, witnessing the scene in the third-person and reporting that she looked like a depraved sugar-baby, mewing and grinding in her boss' lap.

Ian made it worse by holding still; making her do the moving as he lectured: "You're here to help me, remember? Not the other way 'round."

"Nih-Hm!" she pled, humping his longest two fingers. All she wanted was to come. Nothing else mattered.

"I have needs too, T'; needs you'd be extremely adept at addressing."

"Yeah," she winced. "Just like tha—oh! Oh God!"

She was thrusting, appalled by herself yet unable to stop.

His erection was obvious. She was nearly dry-humping it.

He surprised her with a kiss on the neck, just beneath her ear, but she barely felt the shiver this gave her. The main event was between her legs, where things were hurtling toward a cliff.

He wiggled his hand.

"YEh-ss!" she cried, tightening her grip.

"Does the princess deign to offer me anything in return?"

"Nohh!" she inflected, unable to mute herself as her abdomen clenched rhythmically, beating her swollen vulva onto his hand.

"We could do it right here on the floor, or the sofa."

She practically convulsed at this, grinding even harder.

"Or are you just a tease?"

"Neehuh!" was the only sound she could manage; not even a shake of her head. The delight in her voice was clear.

"Beg me."

Such confessions were the last thing she would surrender. But all she could think of was sex.

"Come on, you know you want it."

She didn't hear him. Suddenly every muscle in her young frame tensed and her jaw gaped wide.

He pulled his hand out.

"N-don't stop!" she cried, squirming higher in his lap, pressing her boobs to his face.

He up-righted the chair and released her.

She tumbled clumsily to the floor, landing on all fours.

"That's enough of that," he spat flatly, standing over her. "No more till you start earning your keep."

She scrambled upward and grabbed him, wild-eyed and weak-legged. "No, you—you can't leave me like this!"

"Yes I can."

He then hauled her to her feet and began roughly buttoning her shorts back together.

She resisted, clawing his hands away. Her clit wailed like a siren. She only needed a few more seconds to peak.

"Please!" she simpered.

He persisted with her fly, getting the second and third buttons redone while she fought him clumsily. As soon as he got the last two closed he abruptly stepped aside to his desk.

She was left teetering behind him, knock-kneed and besotted.

He opened a drawer and extracted an inch-wide silver bell that was polished to a mirror shine. When he dangled it in front of her it tinged like a concert triangle.

"This," he announced, "will remind you to focus on others' needs."

He brought the bell to her throat and clipped it to the metal ring of her choker with a snap. It tinged cheerily as he let go.

"Please, you... you can't," she stammered, covering her newly-ornamented neck with one hand, trembling everywhere else with denial.

"Your outfit is now complete," he said. "It's not great, but it's the best I can do. Now run along and take care of your morning chores. Be especially sure to remind everyone to catch up on their billing today; that's the whole point of these no-patient Wednesdays. And I want you back here in twenty minutes, understand? Every minute you're tardy will add to your tally of spankings."

"Please!" she protested desperately.

"The sooner you start focusing on your job," he added, "the sooner I'll remove that bell. But until then you will jingle while you walk."

Crestfallen to the point of despair, she stamped her feet. No man had ever had the temerity to abandon her at the doorstep like this. All she wanted was a little more. The bell wobbled and tinged.

"Run along. Your time starts now."

She nearly swooned. Her entire nervous system was a torch of horniness. Her right hand fell to her shorts.

He scanned her and smiled: "You are cute when you're mad though... I'll grant you that."

She grabbed her crotch and her chest. Her look was pleading.

He struggled to resist this, cognizant of having just tethered himself to the proverbial mast against her siren song. Of course he wanted to fuck her, desperately, but rules were rules. She had to beg for it.

It required every ounce of his self-discipline to point her toward the door.

"Tick tock," he said.

She remained blind in her own storm of conflicting impulses. For a moment neither of them budged. They just stared, dueling by eye.

But her brain began to resolve a brand-new set of calculations, faster than he realized, and it wasn't long before a new bolt slid back from its hasp.

She dipped her gaze to the bulge in his trousers and, for the first time in her life, licked her teeth for a man.

This hurt him physically. He staggered back, bumping into the arm of his chair.

She dragged her wet tongue between canines, staring him up and down. It was his kryptonite. And she absolutely knew it.

Within two steps she'd doffed her sandals and descended to her natural height, slackening her jaw as she neared him.

At an inch away she pivoted her hand to his fly.

This broke everything he thought he knew about her, but he was too drunk with lust to care. He couldn't back up. Nor did he want to.

Wordlessly she eased his zipper down.

"R-really?" he asked.

Her hand went inside, fishing through his boxers.

He gawped at first contact, becoming entirely warm.

She slowly drew back. His cock sprang to light.

Momentarily insecure, he smoothed his trousers flat; trying to make it look bigger.

From her perspective he needn't have. His uncircumcised shape was plenty sturdy. She stared down and eased his foreskin back, unveiling his sensitive glans.

Her mouth flooded. She had to swallow. She couldn't look anywhere else.

She canted her hips and began stroking him, urging his tip toward her navel. Her other hand reached for his balls.

"Oh God Tiffany," he whispered.

She looked up: "Yeah?"

"You have to kiss me."

She coaxed his shaft higher and taunted: "Where?"

His heart tripped over this like a tree root. He nearly fainted.

With a smirk she rose to her toes and gifted him a long, open kiss. Her lips were soft and her tongue was playful.

His cock surged. She kept tugging it, smearing the tip across her flat stomach.

He grabbed her with both hands and held on; sealing her mouth to his in an earnest embrace as his captaincy shattered.

She let herself be squashed, flattening her boobs against him as she stroked.

"Fuck yes," he grunted into her mouth.

She broke away and sucked his lower lip, then delivered a line of kisses down his chin to his neck. Her breasts stayed crowded together against him, nearly spilling out.

He ran a hand up her spine, into her hair, keeping her close.

She tugged his cock eagerly, kissing his shirt and cupping his balls through his fly. Then she leaned back and gazed up at him, hanging in his arms.

Dots of pre-cum littered her tummy. She kept stroking, making more.

"Is this what you want?" she whispered.

"Yes!"

A smile bent the curve of her pretty girl mouth as she unlocked her knees and sank lower.

His world narrowed to a pin.

From the floor she looked up, tugging his length toward her face. It was salacious as hell.

He swayed above the spectacle, entirely unmoored.

She pulled his balls forward, then ducked under and kissed them.

He groaned, aghast at the sensation. His erection draped across her freckled cheek and hair. His balls shifted autonomously against the movement of her adoring lips. He thought he might climax from this alone, but then she proceeded to paint a languid, sloppy lick all the way up his frenulum and began to French it as though it were a mouth.

He stared down at her, overjoyed.

She gripped his root and pursed her lips, flicking and smacking his most sensitive nerves. Then she widened her jaw and enshrouded his whole crown in a single, ambitious slurp.

"Ohh fucking God," he moaned.

Hoops were being licked around his helmet, under his foreskin. It was like being in a cock-washing machine.

He lost it, bracketing her face with both hands and thrusting.

She absorbed half his length with an impish grunt.

He pulled back and pushed again, making her bell ting.

"Fuck yes," he enthused, ecstatic to be inside her.

He began humping her slick mouth, compelling her to concentrate as the bell matched his tempo.

This wasn't her first rodeo by any means, but her ex-boyfriend had been skinnier. She tried to stick her tongue out beyond her teeth but it was difficult to keep her jaw so wide. His cockhead barely fit between her tonsils. The effort of not gagging made her blink.

He was rapt. This was everything he wanted, only better. He cradled her head and moaned.

Her neck veins bulged as she sucked. Her eyes began to water.

The ringing bell and her thickening drool became positively Pavlovian. He kept thrusting, making her struggle to accommodate him. Soon she was gurgling and coughing. Her throat cinched at his very tip like a slippery ring, blocking any ingress yet maddeningly sexy.

He worked himself against this spot until she twisted aside, expelling him with an urgent gasp.

His cock bobbed against her face, impatient and gleaming. Threads of saliva hung from her chin. She ducked under his length for another slow lick from root to glans.

It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

Then she resumed on her own; bobbing her head and cradling his balls. Her nostrils flared as the silver bell rang.

"God yes!" he grunted, curling his toes in his shoes.

She began to hum, sounding increasingly congested. Lines of her spit slipped out in sequence, crisscrossing to the carpet between them.

At one point he withdrew again to let her recover, but she grabbed his thighs and pulled him back in, sucking harder.

He moaned and throbbed in answer, leaking more pre-cum which compounded her slipperiness. He began emitting blissful whimpers as her tongue's wet frictions continued. She was scrubbing his underside, squeezing her lips and smacking his tip into the back of her mouth. Squeaks and little gags signaled her commitment.

He sped up, not quite believing the urgency he felt. All he wanted was to flood her mouth with a load of cum. The hope that she might swallow it all and keep sucking afterward triggered another dose of his pre-cum.

Her eyes rolled back and she became utterly sloppy but didn't slow down; even when a bubble emerged from her nose.

He knew he couldn't last at this rate; she was much too good. He pulled free and tried to settle down.

She inhaled quickly and then slurped him back in, re-sealing the suction he'd broken.

What he felt and saw was fantastic. She was worshiping his cock; vacuuming and scrubbing, humming and slurping, leaving him to just stand there and take it as her pretty face worked. Two-thirds of his cock was disappearing past her lips; out and then in, over and over.

It was crazy. His balls started thrumming. He closed his eyes and embraced the inevitable, letting himself get closer by the second. Her bell was ringing right under him, so close to his balls he could nearly could feel it. Suddenly he pulled her closer and froze, grimacing as he savored his last moments of exquisite agency.

She felt muted by cock, caught between his hands' desperate grip and the pressure of his fat crown against her throat. There was nothing she could do but wiggle her tongue and hold on.

With a throb and a whispered "ohh" he sent a penultimate squirt straight down her throat. It was thick and ferociously salty.

Immediately she twisted free, ejecting him with a neck-bulging cough that was straight from his fantasies.

"So fucking good!" he relished, letting her go.

She observed his cock nodding rigidly between them, nearly upright with tension. It was dripping at the rate of his heart.

She looked up with an expression of sudden lucidity, reeling as if this reality had just materialized out of nowhere, and then in a single motion snapped back onto her haunches and stood, concealing her mouth with both hands.

He was too stoned to understand. He just stayed there with is cock out, gaping.

No words transpired before she turned and ran from his room, jingling at the neck and bouncing out of her shirt.

"No!" he cried, too late, arms outstretched.

The bell faded as she vanished into the hall.

Her sandals lay catawampus, forgotten. Her drool began to cool.

"Fuck!" he wheezed, stooping in anguish.

SCENE TWENTY-TWO

Tiffany gripped the edge of the lobby credenza, alone again.

Initially she could only focus on breathing; trying to tamp down her panic even though she didn't know how. The only solution was escape, surely, after what she'd just done.

She imagined Mitchell in his office, erect and probably purple with rage. She'd deserted him mid-blowjob.

Who does that?!

She wiped her mouth. It was damningly slick. Then she balled her fists and beat the credenza, agonized by how ridiculous she was being. She should simply leave -- walk out. She even had normal clothes to wear. There was nothing stopping her.

'Stop being such a slut!' her ego scolded. 'Just leave!'

But her id wasn't listening. It had only just begun to fight.

She fumbled with the coffee maker and opened a new pound of beans.

The clinic's entryway squeaked behind her, making her jump.

"'Morning, Sweetheart!" Doctor Adams announced cheerily, arriving with the town's local newspaper tucked under one arm. Fresh air rushed in behind him, briefly puffing his sandy locks.

"Shoot—Um, hi," she fumbled, quickly turning back to the credenza and wiping her face more thoroughly. She clutched her neckline and busied herself loading the grinder.

"Holy smokes," he offered, pausing en-route to the hallway. "That's quite an outfit."

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. Not my fault, actually."

"Grisholm?"

"Well... he picked it. Then Doctor Mitchell had his way."

"Wild."

"Yes sir."

"Hm. I guess it's true what they say."

"What that?"

"Y'gotta watch the quiet ones.'"

She smirked but kept her head down to mask her condition.

He chuckled and tapped the corner of the credenza with his newspaper. "I'll take one of those while you're at it."