Department Store (3 page)

In the middle of the floor, between the greeting card displays and my own station, the diaries and notebooks section, there was a small group of seats, identical to a couple of dozen other such groups spread around the store. The idea was a simple one: allow the customers to rest and still see the merchandise before they got back to their feet and shopped with renewed vigour.

Mister Chisholm led me straight to this seating group. I gulped, realising he intended something with more impact than merely fucking me. The seats were nothing more than oversized stools, well upholstered but no backs or armrests. The six were arranged in a group, and I already knew they were tied together at the junctions.

“Get on there. All fours.”

He gave me no chance to acclimatise to my new location, suddenly everything was moving at speed, much faster than he had done before.

Sitting on these damned things was difficult enough, but balancing as instructed on all fours was much, much worse. My hands sank into the soft cushions to a depth of almost six inches. My legs went not quite so far, the weight was spread onto my lower legs too, my feet hanging over the edge.

For the first time he touched me. I stiffened as he put both his hands on my waist and pulled my ass backward toward the edge. In order to avoid the junction between the two seats I’d been forced to spread my hands and legs wide apart, which helped his intentions no end. The shock of his touch on my naked skin as he reached under the baby doll and above the top of the panties caused a gasp. Another one escaped my parted lips as I felt my ass end up against his still clothed crotch.

“I honestly think my slave is ready to be fucked, don’t you?”

Suddenly his hand landed hard on my ass.

Crack.

“Ow!”

“Silence or I’ll give you more. That was merely to remind you who is in charge here. Whose pleasure it is that counts. And who is that?”

“You, sir!”

I tried very hard to stifle a further moan as the heat from his handprint seeped slowly into my backside. My pussy lips pulsed again, releasing yet more of my fluids. The thin material of the panties couldn’t cope with the volume anymore, and it was trickling onto my thigh.

His hands now descended to my ass cheeks, massaging them gently through the thin nylon mesh. Instinctively I pushed my ass back into his hands to be rewarded by a chuckle.

“My you are an eager little beaver, aren’t you?

As he said this his hand dipped low between my legs and rubbed across my sodden slit to reinforce his pun. I moaned again, my whole body shaking as he continued to tease and torment me.

The sodden strip of thin material that shielded my pussy was pulled unceremoniously aside. A couple of hairs caught in the fabric, matted there by my own secretions, but even that transitory pain didn’t stop the near continuous babble of moans and groans now issuing from my mouth.

“What it is you want?”

“Please . . . Please . . . Please.”

I tried to talk but this was the only word that came out.

At some point in the preceding couple of minutes he’d undone his fly, because suddenly I could feel his red hot prick touching my inner thigh. Suddenly I found my voice.

“Do it! Put it in me! Please fuck me! For God’s sake. . . fuck me!”

He chuckled again but held still.

“What do you think your husband will say when he hears you’ve been begging your boss to fuck you?”

His words seared into my brain and pushed me over the top. As wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure flooded through me, my lower body was desperately trying to capture his member, to engulf it, to draw it into me.

* * * *

That final calculated insult had a far more shattering effect than I’d expected. Her entire ass was churning under my hands, almost with a life of its own as an unearthly primal scream of passion issued from the other end.

Her mad gyrations slowed down and the babble of incoherent phrases slowed to a stop, her breathing slowly returning to normal alongside.

“I should punish you for that you know?”

Her flesh jumped between my hands as I gripped her waist, pulling her back against me but not actually entering her as yet.

“For what . . . master?”

“You came without my permission.”

“I can’t help it, sir. It’s what you are doing to me.”

“And what exactly am I doing and do you want me to do more?”

“Yes, sir. Please . . . don’t make me beg.. . . Fuck me!”

I chuckled and pushed my crotch forward, rubbing the length of my penis against her slit, eliciting another moan.

“Please, sir . . . please sir, put it in. Make me come again. Come inside me. Please . . .”

Unlike some dominants I don’t actually get off on inflicting pain, but rather on the giving of pleasure. It was a plea I could resist no longer. After so long in an aroused state my own body craved release almost as much as hers did.

I dropped one hand between her legs, used two fingers to spread her engorged pussy lips apart and used the others to guide myself right to the brink of her opening. As I began to press it forward and into her, she shot her ass backward, pulling me in just as hard as I was pushing.

“Argh . . . I’m sorry, sir, I can’t help it. . . I’m cumming again!”

Literally she exploded into another orgasm, her cries resounding around the store, echoing off the displays and fixtures. Even before I’d fully penetrated her she was writhing on my impaling dick, desperately trying to milk every ounce of sensation out of the fucking. Never in my life had I experienced premature ejaculation but her movements were so wild, so passionate that before her orgasm subsided, before I was even fully inside of her, my hot lava erupted from my end. In the end I rode all the way home on the lubrication of my own spunk.

The experience was so draining I realised I could hardly keep on my feet. I allowed myself to slip out of her and staggered backward to lean against the railing, panting for breath. On the seating in front of me Amy collapsed into a sprawled heap, her panties still askew, and her open gaping pussy glaring at me. Even from the distance of several feet I could see the slight pulsing of the outer lips as the final dregs of her orgasm swept through her. It was time to take control again.

“On your feet, slut!”

She panted, made one attempt to lever herself off the cushions and failed.

“I said on your feet, slut! Now!”

This time she was more successful, pushing herself to her hands and knees and then sliding herself slowly backward so her feet touched the floor. From there she laboriously pushed herself into a standing position, her back to me, panting for breath, her legs shaky. It was a real kick to rub the events of the last few minutes into her saturated mind.

“Adulterous sluts don’t wear panties. Strip them off!”

I saw her shoulders quiver as my words lashed home. She was nevertheless obedient, hooking her thumbs into the waist band and lowering them down her legs. Eventually she stepped out of them.

“Hand them to me.”

She picked up the garment, gingerly, it was obviously rather damp, and the thin nylon had no absorbency at all. Turning, she faced me and took the few steps toward me before holding them out in her dainty little hand. Down below she was a mess, thick globules of my sperm and her own juices intermingled and dripped from her pussy onto her thighs. Some were rolling lower, leaving a slimy trail behind.

I took the panties from her, wrapped them around my own equally slimy cock and wiped it clean with a few brisk jerks. Her eyes followed my every movement.

“Is that the first time my slut has been unfaithful to her husband?”

She bit her lip, I could see the tears trying to form, the emotions warring behind her eyes and then she lowered her gaze to see what I was doing. Panic flared then as she quite obviously expected me to tell her to re-don the gruesomely soiled garment, but I had other plans.

“I told you, you would go home full of my cum, didn’t I? And you still turned up at the door on time didn’t you? Knowing you would get fucked? Knowing you would have to display the evidence to your loving Alan?”

Each time she nodded, keeping her gaze low, not looking at my face.

“Well, I have news for you Amy. The load of cum dripping from your pussy you will be showing your husband isn’t this one.”

Her eyes came up to my face this time, the import of my words stinging her. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was mine, by her own choice and she knew it.

“I want you to use the back stairs, go to the upstairs washroom, and clean yourself up. Then visit the sporting goods store and pick a bag of six ping pong balls and then go to the cafeteria and bring us two coffees. Return via the central staircase. I will be waiting at the bottom of it for you, on the ground floor. Understand?”

“Yes. . .sir.”

“Good. Oh, I nearly forgot, do not attempt to cover yourself in any way. By the way, these panties, I will be hiding them here in your department. Hopefully you will have the chance to find them before we go home. Otherwise you will have to locate them tomorrow morning while working your normal shift.”

The look she gave me was stricken.

“Don’t worry, you won’t be wearing panties under your uniform tomorrow anyway. As I said, adulterous sluts don’t wear panties, ever!”

I walked away from the grinning man who I had just surrendered myself to, with all sorts of emotions floating around my head. The sex had been electrifying, even if it hadn’t lasted long, the build up to it heightening my pleasure. I don’t think I’d ever cum so hard in my life, and not only that but it had happened twice in as many minutes. On top of all that was heaped the humiliation of knowing his eyes were riveted to my naked backside as he watched me walk away from him. This was coupled with the decision to send me on a walk about around most of the store, wearing only a thin baby doll nightie without any underwear. I knew the security cameras were working and I had to rely on his promise to pull the tapes but the apprehension this engendered only increased the other sensations.

Finally I felt shame and guilt. I’d just wantonly, and it had to be said, willingly betrayed my husband, with my boss and I was doing as I was told in the certain knowledge he intended to do it again, and even more, in the not too distant future.

I opened the staff only access door and moved onto the staircase. Instantly I realised why he’d sent me this way. Unlike the shop floors themselves the back stairways on either side of the building weren’t air conditioned. Despite the power of the sun outside this area felt cold. The thin covering over my breasts offered no protection and my nipples hardened on contact with the cooler air.

At least now I was out of sight of him, but he’d told me not to cover up, or use my hands to provide some protection for my residual modesty. He hadn’t told me to walk slowly though. I took the stairs two at a time, not caring about the way my breasts banged from side to side obscenely. My pace slowed as I entered the top floor, pushing gently through the door and quickly checking there was no-one else there, which of course I already knew there wasn’t. The ladies toilets were right next to the stairwell and I scurried inside, thankful for the level of temporary privacy a stall provided.

In the end, to clean myself up I had to use some dampened toilet paper but at least by the time I’d finished there were no slime trails on the inside of my thighs anymore. There was nothing I could do about the small amounts that had soaked into my stocking tops, nor would anything short of a full douche clear out all of his jism from my vagina. I did the best I could, dried down, used the toilet while I had the chance and headed across the upper sales floor to the sporting goods department.

A pack of six table tennis balls was easy to locate and then it was off to the cafeteria. One of the coffee machines had already been switched to free, Mister Chisholm’s key still dangling in it. Not sure of what he wanted, cursing myself for not asking, I filled two of the disposable cups with white, no sugar and set off for the stairs. Carrying one cup in each hand, with the loop on the table tennis balls dangling off my little finger I made it to the middle landing. When I reached the top of the final flight I could see him waiting at the bottom for me, just inside the main doors.

“Amy!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Take it slowly, I want to enjoy watching you descend the stairs dressed, or should I say undressed like that.”

Like it or lump it I was back on show to him again. The steps on the wide marble staircase were deep so it was easy to step down with one foot and bring the other to the same step. That wasn’t what he wanted though.

“Descend properly, Amy, just gracefully.”

“Yes, sir.”

I did as I was told, each leg extending to its fullest as I descended the stairs.

Eventually I arrived at the foot of the stairs in front of him and handed him his coffee.

“I’m sorry, master, I should have asked you how you like your coffee. I forgot. It won’t happen again.”

He smiled at me.

“Coffee, white, no sugar?”

I nodded.

“Good, you guessed right.”

My relief must have shown.

“But don’t forget such details again.”

“Yes, sir.”

The long transit from the top floor had cooled the coffee and he indicated for me to drink mine up.

“Now go back to the ladies wear department. Find a nice flower pattern, lightweight summer dress and replace that nightie. Then return.”

“Yes, sir.”

I turned to go but he stopped me by holding out a hand.

“Better idea, come here first.”

I moved over to stand immediately in front of him. His hands lifted and gently touched my shoulders before travelling slowly down my arms. They returned to my shoulders and this time descended via my neck and the inside edge of my breasts. My gasp as he touched the sensitive globes amused him. His fingers snagged the top lace and quickly undid the bow. The second one followed very quickly as well. Then he threw the shoulder straps backward off me and the thin scrap of nightie fluttered to the floor behind me. His hands returned to my breasts, cupping them and squeezing them. I closed my eyes, a low moan escaping my lips as my nipples hardened against his palms. It was the first time they’d been really touched all morning and the sensation was electric, it was as if they were jealous of the attention my pussy had received.

“Scoot.”

I opened my eyes again and saw him backing away. I turned and walked slowly back up the stairs exactly as he must have expected me to, to find a dress that met his criteria. Luckily it was late spring and our summer fashions were all in stock. He hadn’t told me to lose the stockings so I guessed they were to stay on.

Ten minutes later I walked back down the flight of stairs in the dress I’d picked out. The material was very light and not exactly see through but you could see a dark spot where each nipple was. The print had large red and yellow tulips scattered at random across it, and I’d deliberately picked the style that buttoned all the way from the neck to the hem down the front. On impulse I’d left the top two and bottom three buttons open. Glancing down, at each step I could see a fair amount of my otherwise naked breasts bouncing without their confining bra. At the bottom the opening displayed one or other of my legs with each step I took as high as the darker band at the top of the stocking.

He smiled.

“Excellent choice, now come here!”

The last phrase was snapped out, no amusement in his voice at all. I hurried down the last half a dozen steps and moved quickly to stand before him, wondering what I’d done wrong.

“I have a present for you.”

He had obviously been working on the ping pong balls whilst I’d been finding a dress. He’d needed some other bits and pieces but must have gathered those whilst I’d been busy. The six balls were now threaded onto a piece of string, about an inch of string showing between each one, the string knotted to prevent them moving.

I stared at it in puzzlement, not quite sure what they were for. Then a latent memory hit me, something I’d read about ben-wah balls; something a woman inserted to keep herself excited. The gasp was entirely involuntary and I almost took a step back. Table tennis balls were fragile, there was no way they could be inserted that way without smashing inside of me.

“No silly,” he said, almost reading my mind, “although that’s an idea. This is my punishment strip. Each time from now on you make a mistake you will have three lashes from this. It will sting but it won’t leave a mark. Now over to the lifts.”

He moved over toward the lifts, carrying this strange homemade flogger. I was partly relieved because he had obviously discarded my belt so wouldn’t be able to use that, partly apprehensive about what it would feel like on my butt. I scrambled to follow him, anxious to not find out for real.