Last Saturday Night

Girl obeyed, girl lifted her head, looking up at Sir Richard's face for the first time, his cock still buried deep in girl's throat, he in turn looked down, his eyes flaring in recognition, he jerked his head up, the colour draining from his face as the clear green eyes burned his soul, his eyes flicking from mother to daughter. Mistress Stephanie spoke. "Bite down, hard." Girl obeyed.

* * *

Monday morning, eight o'clock precisely. The lift doors opened on the top floor of Sir Richard's head office. Beatrice strode past the receptionist and along the wide corridor to the mahogany doors that guarded Sir Richard's office. Entering the seat of power, Beatrice heard the latch click shut behind her. A new ritual had begun.

Seated at her father's expansive desk Beatrice pressed the single red button besides the phone. Within seconds the two secretaries entered, their expressions of total bewilderment unable to overcome their bodies ingrained behaviour. Both obediently approached the desk, stopping before it, awaiting orders.

"Strip."

Both secretaries obeyed with alacrity. Each folding their clothes before adding them to the growing pile besides them on the floor. Once naked they stood awaiting orders, unmoving as Beatrice surveyed them with growing appreciation. "You." Her gaze fixed on the left hand secretary, "will henceforth be called 'long'." Her smile was genuine, "whilst you," Beatrice now directed her attention to the right hand secretary, "will from now on be known as 'thick', and that is not a reflection on your intelligence."

Both spoke in unison, "Yes.... Mistress?" Their consternation obvious as they struggled to understand the meaning of this mornings events. Ramrod straight they remained motionless, heads held high, eyes downcast.

"Look up, both of you, look at me." Beatrice held their gaze, her confidence absolute, her control obvious. Her forearms upon the desk, she rose from the leather executive chair and raising one heel, pushed the chair far back, then spread her legs apart. "Long, take a letter, thick..." Beatrice paused... "Take my arse."

Beatrice understood the importance of ritual. As the thick cock-head stretched her ring, Beatrice began to dictate, perhaps that should be 'dick-take' she thought irreverently.

Next Saturday would be interesting.