Amelia sat behind her desk pretending to review her sales figures, but in reality her mind was elsewhere. The thought of what would shortly happen - what she would be forced to do - was all-consuming. The seconds ticked by, the allotted time approached. Right on cue, there was a knock at her door.
"Enter."
Her assistant, James Hacker, threw the door open with a flourish and walked in, a spring in his step. Normally he was shy and subservient around her, (having been firmly put in his place some months ago,) but today he was beaming and smirking with glee. As well he might. Today he was going to see his beautiful, powerful, superior get humbled.
Since she never took him to the executive board meetings, James had never had the pleasure of seeing her take the paddle. But today was different. Today, one of his long-held fantasies was going to come true, right before his eyes. And there was nothing that Amelia could do about it.
Well, technically there was - she could resign. Walk out the door with her dignity intact, and never work again if she didn't want to - she had enough personal wealth and company stock for that. But that would mean admitting defeat, admitting that she couldn't take what was about to be dished out to her, and that was something that her pride would not allow.
"It's time!" Hacker announced with obvious glee.
Amelia drew a deep breath and pushed her chair back. She stood, tall, blonde and beautiful. Her piercing blue eyes gave no hint of the turmoil behind them.
"Then let us begin," she said calmly.
To James' astonishment, she unzipped her close-fitting skirt and stepped out of it. Black, lace-topped stay up stockings covered her legs to mid-thigh, and matching panties circled her waist. While her assistant watched happily, she lowered her panties to reveal her hairless mound and the delicate slit of her pussy. She dropped the undergarment on the desk and shivered slightly in the chill air of the office. She slipped off her jacket and replaced it with a cashmere sweater. It kept her top half warm at least, a small comfort but she would take whatever she could get.
She turned to face Hacker.
"Jame, I know you're enjoying this," she said sweetly. "But if you laugh - if you so much as snicker - I'll tell everyone what happened at Frankfurt."
The grin on his face vanished and he turned pale. Dear God! He couldn't bear the thought. "No, no, ma'am, I wouldn't think of..." his voice trailed off.
"Very well." It was gratifying how effective that threat was! She exited her office, with Hacker following behind, his eyes locked on the small, round buttocks that gyrated as she walked. It was only the second time he had seen her in a state of undress, and he was going to make the most of it.
As they made their way toward the lifts, another young man came around a corner, Eyes widening at the sight of Amelia, he let out an approving whistle.
Amelia stopped, (Hacker almost colliding with her,) looked at her imprudent admirer, and raised one eyebrow. The effect was instant. It dawned on him that while Amelia was temporarily in trouble, she was permanently an executive - one who could finish his career if she chose to.
"I'm sorry ma'am!" he blurted, hanging his head.
"You will be," she replied ominously, and walked on.
The pair reached the lift lobby. The other executives were already there of course - all save for Eddington and Fowlds. Eddington had too much dignity to be seen gawking like a schoolboy, and Fowlds no doubt had his face buried between the soft, plump thighs of his personal assistant. The men smiled and joked as they shamelessly admired her exposed pussy.
"Hope it's not too cold for you!"
"Don't worry - the paddle will warm her up!"
"About time that bottom got a good thrashing!"
She had, in fact, received a "good thrashing" at the last Board meeting, thanks to poor sales figures. But this was an unexpected treat for them. Normally they only got to see her displayed at three-monthly intervals, and there was seldom reason for Eddington to apply the paddle. Today however, they were guaranteed a good show.
Amelia wasn't greatly concerned about her fellow executives - she was used to showing them everything at board meetings when she bent over the table, she had no modesty where they were concerned. But this was going to be different. She wouldn't be spanked in the relative privacy of the Boardroom...
"How flattering," she said cooly. "You all have PA's that you can use anytime - but you've taken time out of your schedule just to see my ass. It really must be something special."
She entered the lift and the others joined her. Hacker was now standing right next to her. It must have driven him wild to be so close, with her half-naked. His frustrated desire for her was one of the tools she used to keep him off-balance and insecure. It made him a better assistant because despite her clearly-stated rule about not sleeping with co-workers, he still hoped that one day he would get lucky with her, and so he strived to impress her. Men really were idiots when it came to sex.
"Tell me James," she asked. "Are you ready for the meeting with the new supplier?"
"Yes Ma'am."
"Then you can tell me what our offer is, and how much we're prepared to go over that?"
"Fifteen million for the agreed merchandise, sixteen and a half maximum."
"Excellent."
Amelia continued to talk business with him as the lift descended - partly to show that she wasn't rattled by what was about to happen, but also to keep her nerves under control. This was not going to be a good day...
Amelia's predicament had actually begun a couple of weeks earlier, though she hadn't realised it at the time. She had been in a meeting with some of the junior sales reps, discussing overall strategy and how best to use their budget. Luke Anderson, a new hire of average looks and decidedly below-average ability, had made the astoundingly dumb suggestion that they increase spending on television advertising.
"Mister Anderson," Amelia said patiently, "Television ratings have been dropping for years. Aside from a few slots in prime-time events, it's simply not worthwhile. Online advertising is cheaper, and gives customers the ability to instantly follow up on something they are interested in."
Anderson had continued to argue however, even after she pulled rank and told him that her decision was final. Eventually she informed him that he simply wasn't someone she wanted on her team, and to clear out his office. He had looked at her indignantly.
"Do you know who I am?" he demanded in an aggrieved tone.
"You're the man I just fired," she snapped back. "Be out by four, or I'll call security."
Two days later, she had received a summons to Eddington's office. He had an apologetic look on his face, which was never a good sign. "I'm afraid I have bad news," he told her.
"Which is?"
"That lad you fired a couple of days ago. He's Baskerville's nephew."
SHIT!
Henry Baskerville was a fabulously rich man who owned over twenty percent of OCP stock. Amelia had stepped on the toes of the single most powerful person in the entire company.
"The little brat went to his uncle, who teleconferenced with the other major shareholders, and they sent me an email this morning."
Amelia's heart sank. This wasn't going to end well for her.
"So I presume they reversed my decision to fire him?"
"Yes," Eddington's face twisted and he looked uncomfortable. "But that's not actually the bad news..."
And then, he had told her in detail about the instructions he had been given.
"You cannot be serious," Amelia said in a flat tone of voice.
"I'm afraid I am. The shareholder's decision is binding - it's out of my hands." He gestured hopelessly. "I'm very sorry Amelia - there's nothing I can do."
"Why don't they just fire me?"
"Oh, they know you're far too valuable. But if you want to submit your resignation I'll accept it."
Amelia thought hard for a short while. Eventually she sighed.
"No. I've worked too hard to get where I am. I can't throw it all away."
Eddington nodded. "It would be a shame to lose your career over this."
"Tell me honestly," Amelia asked, "would you stop this if you could?"
"Oh, yes indeed!" Eddington was emphatic. "This is completely irregular. Upends the whole chain of command. A terrible precedent. Shouldn't be allowed." He sighed. "But - " (another wave of his hand,) "- here we are."
The lift doors slid open. Without hesitation, Amelia stepped out past the security guards who flanked the entrance and into the loading bay - to the thunderous cheers of the assembled crowd. The cold air on her bare skin was an uncomfortable reminder that she was naked from the waist down in front of a large, (and decidedly unwanted,) audience. Despite her cool demeanour she found herself blushing slightly in embarrassment. At the far end of the bay stood Anderson, grinning smugly and holding Eddington's paddle. Eddington had been most indignant about that.
"Fifty years I've spent climbing the ladder!" he declared. "That paddle is supposed to be a symbol of authority - that little bastard has no right touching it! I tried to talk them into using the strap, but they wouldn't budge."
The company-issue strap was lightweight, designed to sting but not do serious damage. Eddington's paddle on the other hand, was a powerful instrument that left serious bruises. Amelia had never taken a dozen from it before. This was going to be a serious test of her self-control and willpower. Could she take her swats without losing her reputation as a woman of iron?
She would find out soon enough. Her hands remained by her sides, making no effort to cover her nudity as she walked the length of the loading bay. Never show embarrassment, never show weakness! It hadn't actually been a requirement for her to parade through the building half naked - she had chosen to do it out of bravado, to show that she wasn't concerned by mere nudity. Even so, she was starting to regret her decision... She kept her gaze straight ahead and her expression neutral, but inside she was fuming. Normally, being exposed wouldn't phase her - she had been publicly strapped since the age of thirteen, and showing everything to police and random strangers was just part of life for pretty girls - but this was her home turf, where she was supposed to be untouchable by all except Eddington himself! Every step took her closer to her fate, with the hoots, whistles and jibes of the crowd ringing in her ears. To see a woman of Amelia's beauty exposed like this was a treat at any time, but the fact that she was one of the highest-ranking members of the company was absolutely thrilling.
"Forgot your knickers love?"
"Shake that ass baby!"
"About time miss high-and-mighty got her comeuppance!"
When the news of her impending punishment had got out, it soon became clear that there would be a veritable riot when almost every man in the building tried to crowd into the loading bay. So Eddington had decreed that a lottery would be held, with employee numbers selected at random. This would limit the attendees to a manageable group, and gave everyone an equal chance to witness the exciting (and titillating,) spectacle. When Amelia had discovered that Hacker was one of the lucky ones she had gone to Eddington to protest.
"It's bad enough that I'm going to get paddled in front of subordinates," she declared, "But him? My assistant? You can't allow this!"
Eddington shook his head. "I'm sorry, but the whole point of the lottery was to make things fair. If I disqualify someone then it looks rigged. Bad for morale, and weakens my credibility and leadership."
So Amelia had to resign herself to the fact that James was going to watch her get her ass beaten. Damn Anderson!
He stood in front of her now, proudly holding the paddle and grinning like an idiot. Behind him were the loading bay workers. Since this was their workplace they were granted prime viewing positions - Anderson had chosen this site especially for that reason. He wanted Amelia to show herself to lowly blue-collar workers as she took her medicine. He regarded them as inferior, and he assumed that Amelia felt the same way, so in his mind this would increase the humiliation she felt. It would have surprised him to learn that she was in fact quite fond of working-class men. They were simple, more or less honest, and easy to deal with. She much preferred bedding a working man (or two), over a limp-wristed, soft-handed business type. While a corporate lackey would spend the whole time trying to impress her with his imagined importance, a tradesman would tell her, (usually in an awestruck tone,) that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. They didn't have the polished look of a male model - but they had something far more exciting to a woman who had bedded multiple men over the last sixteen years.
They were masculine.
Having discovered years ago that even a man of moderate build could easily move things that she herself couldn't lift, Amelia had gained an appreciation for the male body that went beyond the aesthetic. When she drove past a road repair crew, she would look at their dusty, sweaty, sunburned bodies, and think of how easily they could have picked her up and passed her around like a party favour. When she visited one of OCP's factories to deliver a speech about productivity and the resultant bonuses, she would see before her not lowly working men, but instead a multitude of bulls, (not clever, and easily led,) but nonetheless powerful and sturdy in a way that no woman, (and certainly none of her office counterparts,) would ever be. And yet, they were satisfying in bed. Usually unskilled, not having had many partners, but they had a special appreciation for the softness and vulnerability of her body. They would touch her gently with their strong but calloused fingers, the contrast between them making her seem all the more beautiful and fragile. Her encounters with such men were entertaining on several levels. While physically they could overpower her without effort, their reverence for her beauty and their innate respect of women put her firmly in control. She could stop them with a raised finger, bring them to heel with a word. Beauty always tamed the Beast. But once they were inside her she would let them off the leash, allow them to pound her hard and deep. For Amelia, there was nothing better than being the recipient of unbridled lust.
But these particular men were out of luck - she would never sleep with a colleague, co-worker or subordinate. This was as close as they would ever get to her. The executives took their places alongside them - a rare moment when those at the top stood shoulder to shoulder with those at the bottom.
Anderson held up his hand and the raucous din subsided to a low buzz of whispers and muffled laughter. All eyes were on Amelia's beautiful pussy or pert round buttocks.
Amelia cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "I have been a bad girl sir. I need to be punished."
"You certainly do!"
Cheers broke out, and Anderson had to shush them again. "Assume the position!"
She turned to face the audience. Dozens of me, all feasting their eyes on her nudity, all eagerly waiting for the show to begin. She gave a small shrug as if dismissing the whole thing as a mere inconvenience, and spread her legs wide. More cheers and whistles erupted as she bent to hold her ankles.
"Open wide baby!"
"Give it to her hard!"
"You won't be so stuck-up now, I bet!"
The men who jeered and catcalled her had no idea who they were dealing with. Amelia had nerves of steel, her cool demeanour masking a driving ambition which, combined with her intelligence and talent, had seen her become the youngest ever Executive Board member of Omni Consumer Products. She had endured many indignities and painful punishments in her time - at school, in public, and indeed, within the hallways of OCP. She had taken the strap many times, (particularly from Hawthorne,) until her appointment to the Boad had set her out of reach of everyone except the Chairman himself.
She didn't particularly mind being paddled by Eddington - he only did it for genuine reasons and within a strict set of rules. At all other times he treated her as an equal, never giving deference to, or even mentioning, the fact that she was a woman. He was, despite the occasional spankings, a very agreeable person to work with. But taking swats from Anderson, who was not only her junior but also decidedly less than qualified for his position was galling.
Those behind her were treated to the wonderful view of her cheeks parting to reveal the special places between her legs. The neat crease of her pussy sat below a tiny, flesh-coloured asshole so delicate and inviting that many a man had eagerly licked it. She knew that Hacker would be feasting his eyes on her nudity - something that she had never intended him to see again. She had given him the full monty a few months ago when she was stripsearched at Frankfurt airport, but that had been a calculated move on her part, setting him up for the tongue-lashing and crushing put-down that followed. Now he was getting a good look at something he didn't deserve to ever see, and which she would never share with him. Despite her many years of public strappings (which she still occasionally received,) Amelia was feeling ashamed at having to display herself in this undignified position, particularly in front of Hacker. When she bent over the desk at board meetings she would look the other executives in the eye, (those that weren't looking at her beautiful bottom on the screen behind her at least,) but now she kept her head down, not wanting to see the grins and sneers of the assembled men. Rather than her usual confidence and "courage under fire" she was feeling small, embarrassed and vulnerable. But she knew that wouldn't last long. Once her spanking got under way she would have other things on her mind...
WHACK!
The first swat landed square on her backside, delivered forcefully, but to her relief not as hard as she was used to getting from Eddington. The old man had perfected his technique with years of practice, while Anderson was an amateur. But when she was bent double like this her buttocks were stretched much tighter than when she was leaning over the boardroom desk - which made the target area smaller and intensified the pain. Getting through this was going to be a challenge...
Amelia didn't doubt that she could take the dozen she had been ordered to accept, but she had to do it without losing her composure.
"One, thank you sir, I'm a naughty girl!" Her voice was calm and steady.
WHACK!
"Two, thank you sir! I'm a naughty girl!"
She mentally distanced herself, settling into her practised "spanking mode." She had bent for the strap countless times and would bend for many more to come. All she could do was submit gracefully and take what was given to her. The blows landed one after another, and she counted off steadily as the fire in her ass burned hotter and hotter with each swat.
WHACK!
"Five, thank you sir, I'm a naughty girl!"
WHACK!
"Six, thank you sir! I'm a naughty girl!"
It was really hurting now. Her bottom was blazing, and her legs were trembling slightly. She waited for the seventh swat - but instead she head Anderson shift position. "Mister Hawthorne, would you like to deliver the rest?"
GODDAMMIT!
It was several years since Amelia had taken a whipping from Hawthorne - and she had believed herself to be out of his reach entirely. But now, thanks to that little shit Anderson he was going to get another chance!
"So kind of you!" She could hear the smirk in Hawthornes's voice. He took hold of the paddle and stepped up behind her, rubbing the wood over her tingling, throbbing backside.
"Just like old times!" he chuckled.
Ahh, yes, thought Amelia grimly. The "good old days..."
Having worked under Hawthorne for two years, she had been a regular victim of his cruelty. Her weekly reports were delivered bent over his desk, skirt up and panties down, with him standing behind her. Every missed benchmark would result in another swat across her lovely globes. And these were in addition to the summary punishments she could expect if she came in late, or failed to meet his expectations. He hadn't been her only source of misery either. Any time she stepped outside she was at risk of being ordered to "bend and present!" by a smiling cop with a leather strap. Those years had been particularly challenging. Between Hawthorne and the police, she hadn't had an unbruised ass for even a single day, always bearing the marks of her latest dose of corporal punishment.
WHACK!
"Mmmmph! Seven, thank you sir! I'm a naughty girl!"
The one upside here was that Hawthorne didn't hit as hard - the paddle required a strong wrist, and Hawthorne was decidedly lacking in this area - but she was already badly bruised, and the pain was growing more intense with each swat. Her fingernails dug into her skin as she gripped her ankles as tightly as she could, determined not to break position or cry. She had to take it, she had to be unbreakable...
WHACK!
"Aahh!" She shifted slightly and breathed deep. "Eight... Thank you... sir! I'm (pant) a naughty (gulp) girl!"
He delivered the next two swats to the trembling Amelia. She was almost there, just two more to go... Don't crack now! She was just grateful it wasn't Eddington swinging the paddle. Twelve of his best would have had her sobbing, she was sure of that. As it was, she was just barely holding it together.
Hawthorne paused. "Mister Hacker, would you like the last two?"
Amelia couldn't believe her ears. Don't you dare!
Hacker looked at the gorgeous globes in front of him, now an angry red with the small white bullseyes that were the trademark of the paddle. Oh, the chance of a lifetime! But then he remembered her threat from earlier, and realised that Amelia still had the upper hand, and always would.
"No, thank you sir," he replied sadly.
"As you wish!" Hawthorne swung again.
WHACK!
"Gaahhh - ha - ha - ha!" Amelia panted. Her ass was on fire, it was all she could do not to stand and rub at it. "Eleven! (pant, apnt,) Th-thank you s-sir! I'm (sniff) a n-naughty, (pant,) g-girl!"
One to go! She could do it!
The paddle rubbed against her burning bottom, letting the anticipation build. She felt weak now, as though her body was turning to liquid. When the final swat landed it was actually a relief.
WHACK! The board slammed into her, shaking her with the impact. She wiggled her bottom deliciously and whimpered in pain.
"GNNNN!" She fought to keep herself from crying out. God, this was bad! Her chest heaved and her body shook.
"Twelve!" she said as loudly and firmly as she could. "Thank you sir! (pant, sniff,) I'm a naughty... (gasp,) girl!"
It was over! She had made it!
"You may stand," Hawthorne decreed magnanimously.
Amelia forced herself to rise slowly, despite the burning agony in her rear end. Her hands were clenched into fists and held tightly against her thighs to stop them rubbing her blazing rear-end. She faced the throng of excited, horny men before her and rolled her eyes theatrically. "FEEBLE!" she mouthed with exaggerated care. She saw snickers and laughs - evidently her jest had reached at least a few.
She turned to face Hawthorne.
"Thank you sir, I needed that." She inclined her head in feigned thanks for her beating.
"You're welcome, my dear!"
She hated the gloating look on his face - but he wasn't her main concern right now.
She turned to Anderson, looking him straight in the eye. Her face was flushed, her nostrils flared as she breathed, and her words came from a tightly-clenched jaw - but her face was unmarked by tears and her voice was steady as she addressed him, her expression unbowed and defiant.
"Is that the best you've got?"
Anderson opened his mouth to respond - but was abruptly cut off by James, who brought his hands together in a slow and steady clap. It rapidly spread around the room, growing louder with each passing second. Soon it was a thunderous roar - and even the executives joined in. Seeing Hawthorne add his applause she gave him a curious look - and he slowly bowed his head - the first time he had ever shown her respect. She acknowledged with a slight nod, then redirected her gaze to Anderson. He was clearly annoyed at having what was no doubt a carefully-rehearsed speech overridden by the appreciative crowd.
Amelia smiled at him. "I hope you enjoy Norway!"
She spun on her heel and marched to the lift, forcing herself not to rub at her aching behind. The executives didn't follow her, seemingly an unspoken agreement not to spoil the cinematic perfection of her exit. She walked past the lines of cheering, genuinely admiring men, and between the two guards stationed at the lift. Once inside, she turned to face her rapturous audience and forced a smile of triumph as she waved to them before hitting the button.
The moment the doors closed she dropped her act, rubbing furiously at her badly-beaten bottom.
"HOLY SHIT THAT HURTS!"
She vigorously massaged her rear end as the lift ascended, trying to concentrate on the one positive in this whole sorry affair.
"I do have some good news," Eddington told her after relaying what she was required to do.
"You're going to put me out of my misery with a firing squad?" Amelia was still angry.
"No, I mean genuinely good news." His wrinkled face took on a surprisingly youthful grin.
"I offered him the Oslo managership. He accepted."
Amelia was stunned. "He's that fucking stupid?"
On paper, the Oslo position seemed good. A capital city in a small, but safe country. Cold, but beautiful, it provided amazing scenery - and unmatchable women. Norway didn't have its own version of the CPA, but the ladies who were hired as personal assistants had to sign the same contracts, meaning that Anderson would be able to use and abuse them the same way he could in the UK. Being a "national manager" was an impressive note on your resume - and it came with a salary that was significantly more than what he now received, but it wasn't going to get any higher. Since Norway's population growth was minimal, the market was basically stagnant - and to the beancounters on the shareholders committee, the lack of growth would look like failure. If Anderson had been an older man looking for an easy path to retirement, Oslo would have been a blessing, but for a young and ambitious man it was career suicide.
"Yes, he really is!" Eddington had beamed at her. "So in a few weeks he'll be gone! And good riddance to him!"
Some time later...
Amelia stood in her office, still half-dressed. She was rubbing some soothing lotion onto her injured posterior, sighing as the burn of her paddling subsided into a warm glow. She had some time to herself, having sent James to the file archives to dig up some old sales reports and digitise them. Unknown to him, they had all been scanned long ago - it was merely something she did to get rid of him when she wanted to be undisturbed.
Today had annoyed her, she had to admit. She could take her swats in stride, but it was who had given them to her she found galling. That little shit Anderson - and even worse, Hawthorne himself! She was tight-lipped and frowning as she tended to her burning bottom. She needed a distraction...
She locked the door and removed her sweater. It joined her other clothes on the desk, followed by her blouse and bra, and she paused to admire her naked body in the full-length mirror on her wall. She twisted around to inspect her backside, which was, as expected, red and purple. They had given her a good beating, that's for sure. After retrieving her vibrator from a drawer she lay down on the carpet, wincing as her battered bum took some of her weight, and spread her legs wide. She was only slightly moist, and the vibrator required some effort to push in. A soft moan escaped her lips - she loved the feeling of being forced, as if taken against her will. Once it was buried deep inside her, she played with the remote, searching for the right combination of vibrations and gyrations to give her what she wanted. She relived the paddling in her head, remembering the harsh pain as the wood smacked her backside, and the laughs and cheers of the watching men. But in her imagination it wasn't Hawthorne or Anderson who swung the paddle.
One of the coping techniques she had learned at school was to imagine it wasn't the Headmaster who was caning her, but her geography teacher. Late twenties, fit and handsome, he had been her crush at the time. She would think of him standing behind her, becoming more aroused with each stroke he laid down. When she lay alone in her bed she would pleasure herself to the fantasy, picturing herself first soundly punished and then pinned to the desk and ravished. She had actually gone to him privately on several occasions and asked for a whipping, both to strengthen the association between him and the cane, and in an attempt at seduction. He had eagerly taken the chance to cane her perfect behind - something that only Headmasters were permitted to do - but had rebuffed her sexual advances out of fear of legal consequence. Eventually, her teenage emotions running wild, she had managed to find him in a nightclub and spiked his drink. She asked to be taken back to his flat to receive another caning, and after he had thrashed her willingly-presented bottom she had finally got what she most wanted. The near-delirious man had taken her virginity in an orgy of drug-enhanced lust, fucking her slim young body again and again until he passed out. Amelia had liked it rough ever since, and for her, spanking and sex were forever entwined.
She thought of him now, delivering the swats that had bruised and battered her. She imagined herself thanking him with genuine gratitude and with the love that only an infatuated teenager could feel. And after the final swat had been given to her throbbing buttocks, he picked her up gently, laid her on a pile of shipping pallets, and plowed her like a stallion as the men around them cheered and clapped...
"Ooohhhh!" she was wet now, her face flushed and glistening with sweat. The warm tingle of impending climax warmed her nether regions and she spread herself as wide as she could, raising her hips as if to receive her imaginary lover. She bit her knuckles to avoid screaming and -
"Aaaaaaahhhhh!"
The blissful sensation of orgasm washed over her, transporting her to her own private Nirvana for several delicious seconds before she slumped to the floor again, passion spent. She lay there for a couple of minutes, still spreadeagled, and slowly turned down the vibrator as she panted heavily.
The release cleared her head and made her feel a little better about life, but it wasn't enough. She would have to let Amy out tonight...
As Amelia Rutherford, the high-powered executive, she couldn't indulge herself without it becoming company gossip. But as Amy Smith, a sales clerk at a Sommerfield supermarket, she could do whatever she liked. Amelia's wardrobe consisted exclusively of designer-label clothes, all perfectly tailored for a custom fit. Amy's clothes were off-the rack and came from down-market brands. Amelia's cosmetics were top of the range, with several perfumes that were mixed just for her, giving her a unique scent. Amy made do with whatever was available at the local chemist. And while Amelia was aloof and untouchable, (to her colleagues at least,) Amy was warm, friendly - and slutty. Many a man had been between Amy's thighs, or buried himself between her firm round buttocks. Amy had sucked dozens of cocks, smiling as she took loads of hot cum on her face.
It wasn't just casual sex that Amy enjoyed. She also volunteered at a teaching hospital. Scores of med students had learned to perform intimate exams with her help, carefully feeling her firm, perfect breasts and becoming familiar with the female anatomy as she lay on the gyno table with her legs spread wide. Even more intense were her occasional visits to a police station to serve as a training aide. Normally it was an indignity inflicted on girls who wanted to clear their tabs in a less painful fashion, but the boys in blue were always delighted to have a beautiful volunteer. She would kneel on the search bench, holding her cheeks open to be explored by the gloved fingers of a few dozen men, and moan in quiet pleasure as the "special hose" (feared and dreaded by most women, but welcomed by Amy,) was pushed up inch by inch up her tight little back door, going deeper inside her than anything else ever had.
She had a naughty side as well. A few years back, Amy had hooked up with a couple of men who she later discovered were police officers. (Having access to a wide variety of databases made it easy to trace her dates.) Since she was now in possession of some graphic photographs that would likely end their marriages and leave them perpetually crippled by alimony payments, she had made them the reasonable offer that she would say nothing - in return for a weekly update about which nightclubs were going to be raided in one of their random sweeps. They assumed that she wanted this information to keep herself safe - but the reality was the exact opposite.
A few times a year, Amelia would have particular desires that only Amy could satisfy. So she would enter a designated nightclub - and wait for the inevitable. What made these events so thrilling was that she had no control over the outcome. Sometimes she was searched, sometimes strapped. Sometimes she could trade her mouth to protect her ass - sometimes not. But whatever the result, it was always gratifying. The delicious feeling of not being in control, being toyed with, used on a whim - that was something that always got her wet. It was like going on safari, but as prey instead of hunter. And on those occasions when she was ordered to bend for the strap, it amused her to know that the cops would have been amazed to learn who she really was.
But the first two had to be set up in advance, and as for the third, she was in no condition to risk a strapping. Fortunately, Amy was not short of options. There was an old pub in a working-class corner near the docks, with a vibrant atmosphere and a basement that held some ancient arcade games. Amy sometimes visited, and would stand at the pinball table, playing with her skirt rolled up to attract attention. She was never short on offers, but when a man invited her back to his place she would reply; "I really don't want to stop playing. But you can fuck me now on the machine if you want."
This served as her screening process. If a man wasn't willing to perform in public he was, in her view, either short of confidence or short of cock. Either way, he didn't measure up to her standards. But once she found a man who was up to the task she was guaranteed an audience - and usually a few of them would be keen to take a turn. It didn't always happen however. Sometimes she just couldn't find the right man to get the action started - and she had no intention of going home unsatisfied tonight.
Amelia withdrew the vibrator, carefully cleaned it with a sanitary wipe and replaced it in the drawer. She reached for her phone and pressed a few buttons, switching to the second SIM card that held Amy's number and contacts. Her nimble fingers tapped out a message to one of Amy's fuck-buddies.
"Playing pinball tonight."
Amelia chewed her lip as she considered, and then added three more words.
"Bring some friends."
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